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talkfantasytome · 3 years

Note

Aedion starts to help Lysandra to get free of her foster-father and get her little sister back.

Just because I loved 'I'm Here'!!!

Thank you, nonnie! So, I didn't really hit the end goal in this request, but as all of my other Lysaedion requests are asking for smut, and this chapter ended up longer than planned, thus is getting split into two, well...this is for you. <3 It's still a continuation of I'm Here, but it's mostly just fluff and angst and leading to the big conversation, which will start us down this road. XD

Evangeline enjoys the night as Lysandra waits to tuck her in.

Warnings: Minor Angst | Word Count: 2,729

Part 1 | Part 2 | Read on AO3

a/n: Did I spend far more time than necessary focused on s'mores? No, no I did not. If you think I did, you may want to sort out your priorities.

Tying this to another continuation request. Honestly, this was meant to get much farther, but it just started to get so long that I decided to split the night up more. We will see that conversation, I already have it mostly written. I just didn't feel like I could have a 5k word chapter after 2 chapters that didn't hit 2k together. 😂

It was surprisingly easy to get Evangeline comfortable.

She had always felt at ease around Aedion, and she was quite relaxed around Rowan and Aelin as well, so Lysandra knew that being in this house with them would help. What she hadn't counted on was Evangeline seeming to feel a general kinship with Rowan's family, as if, even in those with such vastly different personalities to Rowan, she could sense the familiarity. Something telling her that they were like him, which meant that they were good.

She made fast friends with the other children, all of whom were rather excited that someone new was there. She seemed to get along best with one of the boys, a miniature of Rowan in every way. A bit shier, but all too happy to engage Evangeline in a heated debate about the Goosebumps books, which she'd been reading throughout the month as an added Halloween celebration. Evangeline loved a good argument.

"Is it weird if I don't like that?" Aedion sighed, coming to stand beside Lysandra as she watched Evangeline and this boy, Taran, animatedly debate some character's likability.

"Yes," Lysandra answered, her tone showing just the hint of amusement.

"That one is going to be just like Rowan when he's older, and that is dangerous," he argued, making Lysandra laugh. She could feel his shoulders relax at the sound.

"Don't project your issues with the openness of your cousin's relationship on Evangeline," she teased. "We've got a long time before we need to be worried about that."

Aedion huffed out a laugh, muttering what sounded like 'we' under his breath, and Lysandra felt her body stiffen, realizing the mistake she'd made. He wasn't hers to plan for a future with. He wasn't hers to help in raising Evangeline. He wasn't hers to assume he'd be around in another eight to ten years.

He wasn't hers.

He couldn't be, and she doubted he ever would be.

"Okay, everyone. Time for s'mores and stories!" Enda, one of Rowan's closest cousins, announced. He was carrying a massive bag of jumbo marshmallows, some huge chocolate bars, and a big box of graham crackers, his husband carrying the skewers as they led everyone outside where Rowan had been building a bonfire.

Lysandra couldn't help but smile as she took in the backyard.

The large space had been turned into a child's dream campground. Fun, little, multi-colored tents with various characters were set up in a large circle, the entrances all pointing toward the bonfire that sat in the center of it. In between the two was a smaller circle of log benches for everyone to sit on.

Around the campsite and strung up to connect the tents were lines of fairy lights in orange, purple, and black - the same colors the house had been decorated with on the inside. Aelin's doing, most likely.

"All right, each kid gets their own tent!" Aelin explained loudly. "Pick your favorite character and stake your claim!"

The kids all rushed, Evangeline with them and immediately finding and claiming the tent with Merida on it.

"Aelin," Lysandra breathed, walking up to her friend, already feeling a blush on her face. "This is lovely but, erm…Evangeline doesn't have a sleeping bag."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Aelin said simply as Lysandra heard Evangeline gasp excitedly. "We provided those too, and pillows."

"Lysandra, look at how cute!" Evangeline squealed, running up to her, the sleeping back dragging behind her. She pulled it forward to show Lysandra the bag that had the three brothers from Brave on it, in their bear forms. It was one of Evangeline's favorite pieces of the movie - she thought the bear cubs were adorable.

"Wow! That's amazing!" she offered, rubbing Evangeline's head. "But why don't you go put that back before you accidentally drag it through the fire?"

"Okay," she agreed, doing as suggested.

Lysandra pivoted toward Aelin and gave her a soft glare. "This is too much."

"Don't be ridiculous. We did it for the whole family," Aelin countered. "And before you ask, no, none of them chipped in. These are Rowan's and my gifts to our favorite children."

Exhaling loudly, Lysandra nodded. "Well, thank you. But we won't be able to keep them."

"Nonsense," Aelin scoffed, saving a hand. "You just won't be able to keep them at your house. They'll be here whenever Evangeline needs them."

"Thank you, Aelin," Lysandra muttered. "You all are really too good to us, but I'm glad Evangeline has you."

"You have us too," she said kindly, placing a hand on Lysandra's shoulder. "Don't forget that, yeah?"

Lysandra nodded as Aelin walked toward the bonfire where the other adults were attempting to chorale the kids onto the seats. Most seemed to want to compare their tents and prove why theirs was the best.

Finally, Rowan spoke up, creating order where no one else could by threatening to take away their chance at hearing a story from Aedion. Apparently, that was something none of the kids wanted to miss out on. They all quieted down and grabbed seats, Enda and Karter passing out the skewers and s'mores materials.

"You know, there are enough seats for the adults as well," Aedion explained, making Lysandra jump. She hadn't noticed that he'd joined her.

"I'm good here," she sighed, watching Evangeline skewer a marshmallow and then hold it delicately over the flame. She always had to get that perfect golden toast.

"Don't be ridiculous," he groaned, stepping behind her and pushing her toward the bonfire, his hands braced on her hips. She tried to look annoyed, but a giggle escaped her lips, betraying her. "Can we get a skewer here for this beauty?"

She slapped Aedion in the gut before accepting a skewer and marshmallow from Karter.

"If he's bothering you, you can always join Karter and me on our bench," Enda offered as he handed her a graham cracker and some chocolate pieces. "We're very skilled in helping beauties avoid obnoxious alpha males."

Lysandra laughed loudly as Aedion scowled at Enda. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be taking you up on that offer," she chuckled, Aedion poking her in the waist playfully.

"Aedie! Story!" Evangeline requested, the kids all looking up at him expectantly, their mouths already covered in marshmallow and chocolate.

"Can't I enjoy a s'more first, too?" he asked in mock offense. The kids all grumbled, making Aedion laugh as he sat down next to where Lysandra had seated herself, his own skewer in hand.

He held it over the fire, clearly happy to take his time, but that wasn't Lysandra's style. She plunged her marshmallow directly into the fire and then took it out, holding her skewer up as she let it burn for a few seconds, until it was just about to fall off of its own accord.

"No! Tell me you're not one of those!" Aedion exclaimed, staring in horror at the burnt marshmallow she was now placing on her chocolate and graham cracker.

"It ensures the most melted marshmallow, and does so quickly," she explained, placing another piece of chocolate - because chocolate on just one side was a dumb concept - and the second graham cracker on top of the marshmallow before she slid the skewer out and rested it next to her.

Aedion was shaking his head. "And here I was, thinking you were perfect."

"Nope!" She popped the 'p' cheerfully, a wide smile on her face. "But I do make a great s'more." Lysandra took a cheerful bite into her little sandwich, savoring the sweet, gooey taste, the chocolate half-melted due to the marshmallow's warmth.

Aedion watched her as she did, laughing softly, his eyes focused on her lips. Lysandra's heart fluttered at the attention, the intensity, and it completely stopped as he lifted a hand to her face, his finger caressing a spot at the corner of her lip.

"Bit of chocolate," he said, licking that same finger. "Don't worry, you're still the neatest s'mores eater I've ever seen." She rolled her eyes at the comment, but could feel the flush of her cheeks. She really needed to find a way to not be so affected by him.

It had always been a super power of hers. Her ability to control her emotions, put on the face she needed, whether she were hiding feelings or pretending she had them. It had come in handy for much of her life, sad as that may be, and was a talent she still used today, mostly with Arobynn. And yet, with Aedion, she often felt reduced to some swooning pre-teen, her body reacting before her mind even knew what was happening.

"Go make your s'more," she sighed, looking toward the fire. "The kids won't wait forever."

Another chuckle but Aedion heeded the order.

It was so easy, pretending nothing was wrong. Acting like it was just another night at Aelin and Rowan's, letting herself forget for a few minutes the talk she'd promised to have. And why it was even necessary.

As soon as his last bite was in his mouth, the kids were hammering Aedion for the story.

"All right, all right you little monsters," he chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. They all quieted after that, the kids moving so they could hear better. Some sat before him on the ground, a couple joined their parents on the benches next to Aedion and Lysandra.

Evangeline crawled right into Aedion's lap, sitting perpendicular to the way he was, his arms wrapping around her to hold her in place instantly. It left a faint smile on Lysandra's face that never left.

"In honor of our new friend, here, I'll tell you all the story of Brannon," Aedion started, squeezing Evangeline for a second in a way that made her giggle. "Brannon and the founding of Terrasen.

"Before this country was founded, this entire continent was a wild, feral land. Inhabited not by humans, but by witches and sorcerers and the Fae." The children all gasped at that last word, making Aedion huff out a small laugh. "Also known as the Fair Folk, and sometimes faeries, but those myths rarely tell the truth. The Fae weren't small creatures that glowed and floated around, showing you the way. Nor were they the tricksters some legends would have you believe. They weren't winged," he tugged on Evangeline's wings lightly, earning another laugh from her and the children, "and they weren't nice. That's not to say they were mean, but the Fae gave into their animalistic instincts in a way we don't. Taller, stronger, faster, and some gifted with magic, they were incredibly dangerous and preferred freedom to what they might consider the 'trappings of civilized society'."

And so Aedion's story began, the kids completely enraptured, and Lysandra couldn't deny she was wrapped in it too. Or, at least, wrapped in Aedion. The way his face shifted as he spoke, how he adjusted his tone up and down at the perfect spots. The way his hair seemed to glimmer in the firelight, how his jaw would set, his lines becoming sharper, a clear path for Lysandra to trail kisses up.

Not that she was thinking about that. No, she just crossed one leg over the other and continued to listen.

He spun a tale of a great Fae warrior with the gift of fire, vanquishing enemies and defending their land from the humans that would seek to steal it from them. How the Fae then made him their king and he established a country that would be recognized by the world, a country so great that all attempts at conquering never succeeded.

"Of course, over time, humans were welcomed into the kingdom," Aedion sighed, coming to an end of his story. "They mixed with the Fae, and the population started to grow immensely. With Fae having such a hard time having children themselves, soon enough there were no pureblooded Fae being born, and slowly the Fae race died out in favor of the demi-Fae and humans, the latter in particular, who bred like bunnies in comparison to the demi-Fae." Soft giggles from the children. "And, while any traces of the gifts the Fae were given millennia ago disappeared, there are still hints of that ancestry in some of us alive today." Aedion smirked at the kids and then turned his head, tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ear to reveal the tiniest of points at the top of it.

He had it on both sides, and she loved it. Not because they were proof what Aedion had said was true - no, not at all. She knew that some people were just born with slightly pointed ears. It wasn't anything special. And yet, it totally was, because it was something unique about him, to have the points on both ears. She thought they were so cute, and had definitely given them little kisses at times when the two were wrapped in each other's arms.

The children, on the other hand, were all stunned, and even Evangeline was taken by the concept, reaching up and touching the point Aedion had on display.

"Now, little lady, who told you it was okay to touch someone's ear without their permission?" Aedion asked, an air of mischief in his tone.

Evangeline blushed, hiding her face in his chest as Aedion laughed, smiling over at Lysandra.

"I think it's time to get her to bed," Lysandra sighed, standing up and stretching. The story had gone for much longer than she thought, and it was definitely past Evangeline's bed time now.

"Will you tuck me in?" Evangeline asked Aedion, looking up at him.

Aedion paused, looking up at Lysandra. "If it's okay with Lys."

She nodded without even hesitating. "Of course, go right ahead."

"No!" Evangeline groaned. "Both of you!"

Lysandra couldn't help but smile at that, her eyes sparkling as she looked upon her sister. "We can do that."

Climbing out of Aedion's lap, Evangeline stood and took Lysandra's hand in one of hers and Aedion's in the other before leading them to her tent.

"Good choice," Aedion muttered at seeing her tent and the wild redhead painted on it.

"Stay out here," Evangeline demanded, going into her tent alone.

Aedion's brow furrowed as he looked at the now closed flap. "She's probably changing, Aedion," Lysandra offered, his entire stance relaxing suddenly.

"Right…makes sense," he breathed, rubbing his neck. "Did you like the story?"

Lysandra smiled up at him kindly. "I did. Quite a bit, actually. Especially the part about the ears." She took a step closer and booped the point that was still on display. "Oh, I'm sorry, should I have asked for permission to do that?" she teased.

His face fell into something serious as he took a step closer, their chests now brushing with each breath the shared. "You never have to ask permission to touch me," he whispered, his voice low and intense. Lysandra felt her heart flutter as a heat spread through her face.

"I'm ready!" Evangeline proclaimed, her voice cutting through the air and jolting them both, Lysandra jumping a step away from Aedion.

The little girl was nowhere to be seen, but when Lysandra pulled back one of the flaps she found her already snuggled in her new sleeping bag, looking up at her expectantly.

"Are you comfortable?" Lysandra asked softly, crawling in a bit and brushing some of Evangeline's blonde hair out of her face. She nodded softly, her eyes as bright as her smile. "Then good night, sweet girl. I'll see you in the morning." Lysandra leaned over and kissed her on her forehead just as Aedion crawled in on Evangeline's other side, the three quite squished in the tent for one child.

He waited, and when Lysandra pulled back, Aedion brushed his own kiss to Evangeline's temple. "Sweet dreams, Evie," he whispered softly.

"'Night Aedie," she replied happily.

"I'll be in the house if you need me," Lysandra offered quietly.

"The guest room to the left of the stairs, on the first floor," Aedion added. Lysandra flashed him a grateful smile. Evangeline nodded in understanding as she slid further into her sleeping bag.

With another quick kiss on the forehead, Lysandra followed Aedion out of the tent, zipping up the flaps once she was standing again.

"You ready?" Aedion asked gently, his hands in his pockets.

No. "Yeah, sure."

a/n: Fun fact, one of my sister's ears has a tiny little point to it…so, either Lysandra's right, or we, too, have Fae in us. 👀😂

@boredserpent @live-the-fangirl-life

If you’d like to be added to my Lysaedion tag list, or any tag list (or just an all tag list), let me know! :)

#lysaedion #lysandra #aedion ashryver #aedion x lysandra #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #ask box #anon ask #fanfic prompt #fan fic #angst #camping #bonfire #s'mores #campfire stories #lysaedion fic #fluff and angst #fluff

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years

Text

Favours - Part Four

Mafia AU! Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part Three // Part Five

A/N: This is short, because my keyboard went apesh*t. I’m typing this up with a Nokia Flip Phone. - Nemo

Warning(s): Blood. Dismemberment. Alludes to Murder. It all starts under the cut.

Summary: A nasty gift. The cavalry. A diamond necklace. A once-in-a-lifetime meeting. How much can you fit in one day?

Listening to: ‘Diamonds’ by Megan Thee Stallion and Normani - ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Sometimes the world was cruel. Unfortunately, with life you led, all anyone knew was cruelty.

When you woke the morning after your meeting with Zeke, Rod, and Levi, you had something waiting for you. It had already left its mark on those of the building's residents who were awake - and on your front doorstep. Nanaba, the eldest of such awake residents, instantly went to wake you when she saw what it was. She burst your bedroom door open, thrusting your half-asleep mind awake, with a look that spoke a thousand words. You didn't need her to tell you - you were up and throwing on a housecoat before she could utter a single word.

What you were met with in the foyer was not a pretty sight. Hence the eerie silence.

The front door was left wide-open, and a trail of drops and splatters led to the circular table in front of you. In the center - and no doubt the cause of the mess - was a crystal vase. Wrapped with a silk bow, and housing red rose blooms. In the midst of the flowers were skewers - topped with eyeballs and pieces of flesh - which no doubt was the cause of the red tint in the water.

If the iron smell didn't put you off as you approached it, the smell of meat that had been in the sun too long sure did.

You spotted a piece of white card. Reaching among the crimson mess, you pulled it out. A message was scrawled on it in messy handwriting.

"'Roses are red, our blood is too. You're playing with the big boys now, l hope your friends know that too.'" you read aloud. Tapping the card between your fingers, you thought.

"I think," Hange said, plucking the card from your grasp, "That we need to make some phone calls."

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

The convoy of black BMW's that pulled into your driveway was - at best - too 'extra'.

Likewise was the small army of men that stepped out of said cars. Naturally, at the forefront, was Levi.

He was almost wearing a full suit, jacket lacking to put on display, a form-fitting vest, and tie discarded also - he looked awfully casual as he stepped through your front door.

You didn't know why you had called him specifically, but his attitude and demeanor thus far pleased you greatly. You found later last night that he also hadn't agreed to Zeke's offer. That did make him trust you a lot more.

He was proving true to his word.

"You were right when you said it 'wasn't pleasant'." he said, eyeing the red vase as he stepped around to your side. "It sure isn't a bouquet I'd want on Valentines Day."

"I'm aware." You replied, shifting your arms around to cross them as you kept looking at the vase.

"I'm guessing we all assume it was Jaeger that sent it," Erwin said, "Yes?"

"Yes." Hange said. "We had prints run. Got the results as positive right before you came in."

"You 'ran prints'?"

"Uh huh," you looked over at Levi, "There isn't much we can't do here."

"Anyway!" Hange said, clasping her hands together, "The prints were Zeke's, so he wrote the card. The DNA from the .... other 'gifts' have so far all matched profiles of women who worked for Rod Reiss."

"I'm wondering less and less why you don't like those two." Erwin mumbled.

You sighed, running a hand down your face you found yourself thinking again. Zeke was threatening you - using Rod's resources to do so, so he wouldn't 'waste' any of his own no doubt - and so far it wasn't working. Were you shook up? Definitely. Anyone would be. But you weren't going to let it get to you. He'd need to try harder than just a few flowers.

"Yimr, find someone who won't get sick to clean this up." You gestured to the vase. "Hange, get back to working on those other DNA results. Find out who those women were. Find their families. You know the rest."

"What's 'the rest'?" Levi asked, moving to flank you as you turned to led him and his men into the building.

"It's not why you're here." You said, "You're here to help me find out about these jewels, and why that monster who dares claim he's a man wants them."

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

The jewels, as it turned out, were pieced together to form a necklace and matching earrings - hence Zeke's comment at last night's dinner.

And they were nothing short of magnificent.

The necklace was chocked to the nines with small, pure, one-of-a-kind diamonds. Slightly larger yellow diamonds were around the neckline, and as the centerpiece - a large, and rare, red diamond.

Both earrings had a similar style - mostly because of the great number of small white diamonds that outlined the two yellow, and singular red diamonds on each piece. But despite their beauty, and great worth, that was not they Zeke Jaeger wanted them.

"... by mob law, he will be 'king' if he gets ownership of those jewels." Levi said, tapping his finger on the glass table as he looked over the shrewn papers and photos.

"That's the gist of it." Erwin said. Furlan sighed from Levi's side.

"Shame, they look real good." he said.

"Um, no. That's not why him getting them is bad." You said, standing to point out highlighted parts of the papers. "He becomes Our boss if he gets them. He wants the power they hold, and he will use it. Personally, I didn't make it this far to be on the end of a leash - or, undoubtedly, some trophy wife either."

"You're right. You - or I - aren't here to serve others." Levi said, tilting his head at you. "You don't deserve whatever he will ask either."

Petra chose then to poke her head in the door. You nodded at her.

"You have a call, line two."

"Thank you, Petra," you said, turning to the others with a hand on the phone, "Will you give me a moment?" They murmured their 'yeses' and 'sure's'.

The person who introduced themselves sounded young. If they didn't sound so professional, you may have mistook them for Historia trying to prank-call you - then too, she wasn't like that.

As your phone call went on, your lips twitched up into an amused smile.

"Thank you, sir." you said, glee evident in your tone. "I greatly look forward to meeting with you." Saying your final goodbyes to the caller, you hung up.

"Who was that that you're looking so smug?" Hange snickered.

Sitting, you looked across at Levi, who had his head rested against his hands. He looked dead at you, expectant. But with your growing smile, and the look in your eyes, he sat up straight.

"I have a meeting," you started, "With one Armin Arlert."

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

Series Taglist is now Open!

#favours #mafia au #levi ackerman one shot #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan one shot #attack on titan x reader

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thenonsensetronaut · 3 years

Text

Cast:

-Wanda Schenn

-Conrad Twelve

-Kennedy Rodgers

-Gabriel Griffith

[The following is my contribution for the Firefighters LMLC Exchange. This one's for @korethekiller! Enjoy!]

Conrad looked at the scrap of paper, then at the door the small group stood before. The door itself was just about as nondescript as possible, no signage to indicate anything of note behind, but they’d been following extremely detailed directions that had led them right here. Behind them, Gabe was tapping his foot impatiently while K-Rod quietly adjusted one of the bolts on his left arm. Conrad knew Chicago best of all of them, even if Chicago had changed a lot over their lifetimes.

“We’re pretty sure this is the place,” they said softly, hesitating to open the door. “But if we’re wrong, please don’t hold it against us.”

“It’s been almost an hour,” muttered Gabriel. “At this point I’ll take anything.” He pushed ahead and reached for the handle, but Kennedy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We agreed to let Conrad take the lead,” he said in the same calm tone he usually affected. “Let them be sure.”

Gabe scowled but relented, shrugging as he stepped aside. Conrad took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. They weren’t wrong often, and ages on the road had made them fairly confident about following directions, but the writing had been a bit tricky to decipher. Regardless, after a moment, they gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

The trio were immediately greeted by a completely different space than the dockside warehouse they’d just gone through. Wood paneling adorned wide walls and gentle yellow light spilled from chandeliers hung from low ceilings. Booths cushioned with plushly stuffed maroon leather lined one wall, with round tables spread out just far enough to give ample space dotted the main floor. An enormous bar took up the wall opposite the booths, and a small stage with thick velvet curtains stood proud but empty opposite the door.

“We guess we found the right spot,” Conrad said with a smile.

There weren’t a great many people inside yet, but it was early enough in the day that none of them had expected a crowd. One or two, they recognized from the stands. Diehard Chicagoans who’d found their way here by luck or accident, one of whom was bold enough to have brought along a jersey from the gift shop. Conrad couldn’t see whose name adorned the back of it, but it was unmistakable even having been slung over the back of a chair. A slight woman in a white shirt approached them with a smile, pushing a strand of straight, dark hair out of her face.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said to the trio. “The boss reserved her favorite booth for you. I’ll let her know you’re here, if you’ll just follow me.” She turned and led them back to one of the booths closest to the stage, letting them ease their way in. The seats were luxuriantly comfortable.

“Drinks to start you off?” she asked.

“Hakushu whisky, one ice cube,” Gabe said immediately. It was a typical flex from the star pitcher, going for something esoteric and expensive, but the young woman just nodded and looked around the table.

“Do you have a carajillo?” K-Rod seemed almost hesitant to ask for the coffee cocktail, but the gal responded in the affirmative. “Delightful.” He relaxed visibly. Rodgers didn’t really drink, and it was entirely possible that he couldn’t and just pretended to, but the beverage would at least smell very nice.

Conrad considered their order for a long moment. A dozen lives’ worth of history had left them with complicated feelings on alcohol, and while they didn’t abstain they were fairly certain they’d end up having to haul Gabriel home.

“Just a club soda for us,” they said after a moment. It seemed the safest choice, and the woman gave that same pleasant nod as before.

“I’ll get those to you right after I let the boss know you’re here. Enjoy your stay!”

As she walked away, Conrad let themself relax into the seat. When the three of them had been invited out, it had been a bit of a surprise. Only Kennedy had even known the place existed before, but had never been here personally.

“Did Wanda tell either of you why we’re here?” they asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “I assumed she finally figured out that we’re amazing and wanted to socialize away from the Firehouse. I knew they had a side hustle or two, but this place is very nice.”

Kennedy said more with the words he didn’t use, as he often did. “We don’t get that many days off.”

Conrad frowned. It wasn’t as if they didn’t trust Wanda, or anything like that. It simply seemed sudden that this particular group would be let in on what had previously been something of a secret. They looked around the bar -- speakeasy? -- as Gabe and Kennedy continued the conversation. Gabriel, true to form, lamented that he wasn’t pitching every game, while K-Rod stated with no reservation that that sounded very tiring. It made sense, then, that they were the only one to notice when Wanda approached the table at that inhuman speed of which only she was capable.

Wanda was seated at the booth before Griffith or Rodgers noticed anything was amiss. Even Conrad had missed her actually sliding past them to sit nearest the wall. Wanda Schenn wasn’t exactly aloof, but she was fairly private. That made it all the stranger when she threw one arm around Conrad’s shoulders. The other extended over the table waving someone closer.

“Drinks are on me tonight, pals,” she said in a husky alto. “I do own the place, after all. Except yours, Griff, I only stock that crap for blowhards like you. You’ll enjoy it and you’ll pay for it.”

Gabe was more visibly surprised than Kennedy, but then, he was more visibly most things than Kennedy. With the metal face and the one eye, K-Rod wasn’t exactly an open book. Gabriel, despite his avian features, was almost comically expressive.

“Wanda!” he said, the feathers around his neck rising. “When did you-”

“Literally about a second before she started talking,” Conrad interrupted. There was some kind of competitive and undefinable thing between the two of them, and if not headed off properly it could devolve into a bravado-fueled contest of one-upsmanship. That was not what Conrad wanted tonight.

To his credit, K-Rod seemed entirely normal.

“Good evening Ms. Schenn. Thank you for inviting us to your lovely establishment. Might I ask, while we-”

“Hold that thought, K,” Wanda said. “Drinks are here.”

The skinny woman in white was indeed returning with a small tray holding four glasses. A coffee-cocktail which smelled wonderful for K-Rod, a bubbling glass of soda water for themself, three fingers of wildly expensive imported whisky for Gabe, and-

“Your usual, boss,” the woman said, handing over a martini glass with a smoky-white sphere of ice resting in a small amount of clear liquid. A skewer pierced a pair of blackberries and rested on the rim. “One Full-Moon Martini.”

Wanda grinned as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip. The icy moon lolled gently as the liquid beneath it diminished. Once the glass was resting back on the table, Wanda put her chin in her hands and looked over the little group.

“Underhanded,” she said, apropos of nothing. Gabe immediately rankled, feathers down the back of his neck rising, but the other two gave no indication of any response yet. “Cool your jets, GG, it’s not gonna be all of us. But I’ve got a line on a special item. Just one, for one of us. Called you all in here to figure out who’s getting it.”

Conrad blinked back a wave of confusion.

“If you found it,” they said, “shouldn’t you be the one to use it?”

It was K-Rod who filled the moment of silence. “I believe,” he said, “Wanda is proposing we figure out what would best benefit the team. According to League rules, an Underhanded pitch only scores Un-Runs on a home run. Thus we should calculate which of us allows more home runs than hits and act accordingly.”

“I don’t want it,” Gabe said in an instant. “I’ll win my games on my own.”

Wanda chuckled but said nothing, which seemed to rankle Griffith even more. He stared at her for a long moment, eyebrows furrowing until K-Rod broke the tension.

“I believe, statistically speaking, Conrad should be the one to take it. They have given up the most home runs, and-”

Conrad was biting their lip. The glass in their hand cracked and shattered, dropping a pall of silence over the table. Wanda waved over the girl and indicated for towels.

“Don’t give it to us,” they said slowly, looking over their hand to make sure no shards were in the skin.

Wanda leaned back, expression quizzical.

“Why not?”

“We… Honestly, we don’t know. There’s something inside of us that really doesn’t want it. If you gave it to us, that would be… bad.”

Gabe swallowed his slug of whiskey in one go, setting the glass back on the table with a resolute thump.

“Wanda, as much as I hate to say it, you’re good. If you were throwing underhanded, you’d be extremely difficult to defeat. Why don’t you keep it and we’ll see how it goes.”

With that, he excused himself from the booth. “I’m going to refresh my drink.” He was looking vaguely toward the bar, but his eyes were unfocused. “Rodgers, seeing as I’m just back from my Hawai’ian sojourn, come with me. You can catch me up on what I missed last season.”

“I really feel I should-” Kennedy started before Gabe wrapped a wing around his upper arm and tugged. “Oh! Well alright, ah, hm. Where to begin?”

The pair walked off toward the bar, K-Rod starting to unload a season’s worth of shenanigans.

Wanda took the towels and sent the young woman off, cleaning up the mess herself. Conrad tried to protest, but a hand and a stern look from Wanda set them to silence again. A moment later the spilled drink was sopped up and the broken glass was gathered in a neat little pile.

“Do you want to talk about that?” Wanda asked softly. Conrad let their eyes rest on the detritus of an outburst they didn’t fully understand.

“We’re not sure we can,” they answered. “We just… There’s something about this. About everything that’s been happening lately. We can’t explain it, but we think one of us, or maybe more, has dealt with something similar before.”

“Well sure,” Wanda said with a shrug. “We’ve all been through a lot. Hell, I’m still grappling with everything before the Descension. That’s plenty of baggage on its own.”

“We know.” Conrad cringed. “We didn’t mean to imply…”

“You didn’t. I’m just letting you know that, maybe more than the others, I can sympathize. You can talk to me, if you want. I’m here for you.”

Wanda rested a hand atop Conrad’s. That hand was hot, steady, strong. Conrad glanced at it and looked away again, but they let a small smile find its way to their lips.

“We appreciate it. You’re a good friend, Schenn.”

Wanda looked back over to the boys at the bar. Gabe had his next drink, which he was nursing as Kennedy animatedly told some story or another. If Wanda had to guess, the topic was some Socks antic or another.

“We have to have each other’s back out here,” she said. “It might look like we have it all, to the people who don’t bear this burden, but I know damn well that everything can be ripped away from you. That you’ll have to rebuild everything in a new place, maybe even a new time. If we can’t count on each other, we have nothing.” She pulled her hand back and sipped at her drink. “If, or when, you want to talk about anything, you know where to find me. How about for tonight, we just have a nice time?”

Conrad nodded. “While it lasts,” they said softly. Some part of them knew that the world would shake around them soon enough, that everything would change and maybe never be the same again, but for now? For now it was enough to be here, and now, and let the past stay quiet within them.

For now, it was enough to be with friends.

#blaseball #chicago firefighters #wanda schenn #conrad twelve #kennedy rodgers #gabriel griffith #fanfic #cw alcohol

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ds-ts-smut-fics · 4 years

Text

Far From Home [Chapter One]

Read on Ao3

Synopsis: When Logan, a human monk, comes across an unconscious tiefling in the forest, he nurses him back to health and they decide to travel together. Logan quickly realizes there's a reason Remus is on the road, and not one easily fixed.

Trigger warnings: NSFW, dnd typical violence, demonic possession, lmk if i missed anything!

Words: 5,379

A/N: There's some sex scenes in this fic, fair warning. Feel free to give suggestions on what to do, events, loot, etc! This is a completely homebrew world so no limits. They're currently at level 5. Claire is playing Logan, I'm playing Remus. Remus is a bard rogue.

Logan had never travelled so far between towns.

He’d been going for several days. There was nothing but fields of dying grass and thick clumps of trees. If memory served well, he was close to the Jubilex Thicket, thus not too far from a river he could wash up at. The sun was setting fast, though. If he didn’t find a place to camp soon, he’d be travelling in the dark.

In between the clopping of Juniper’s hooves, something slithered to the right of him. A rustle of leaves, a grunt of pain, and a thud.

The forest was too dark to see inside, but something rustled. Pulling up on the reins, he tries to see what's moving, hand sliding to his sword as he debates calling out to the dim area off to the side of the path. It could be an ambush, and that would not end well for me. On the other hand, it could be someone in need of aid.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

Something slithered away with a slorp sound, and the forest went still. Shivering, he pats Juniper's neck.

"That's not creepy or foreboding AT ALL…. I think we should continue on our way, maybe there's a clearing ahead."

Juniper shakes her head, moving towards where the sound was, making a soft sound. Frowning, Logan slides off, trying to see what she does.

"What is it, girl? You see something, hmm?"

Logan stared hard at the ground, where Juniper sniffed at, but he couldn’t for the life of him find anything. That was, until moonlight glinted off something on the ground— a sickle. Logan trailed his eyes to the hand wrapped loosely around the handle, up to what he quickly realized was a tiefling laying in the dirt. Deep black skin, shoulder-length hair that faded from green to black. He was covered in black clothes, a trenchcoat, hood, and a mask. With Logan’s human vision, it was no wonder he couldn’t see him.

"Oh dear heavens!" Dropping to his knees, he does a quick check for wounds, using some of his ki to heal him with a touch after moving the weapon as he doesn't want to get stabbed.

The man’s eyes snapped open— stark white and pupil-less. He sat up with a rush, then dropped one of his sickles to grip his head with a groan.

Shifting back a little to give space, he can't help but smile. "I promise, I mean no harm. My name is Logan, may I offer some water and rations? Once I make camp for the night I can attempt more healing. It is getting dark for me though, I nearly missed seeing you!"

He blinked and looked around, his eyes nearly glowing. His voice came out gravelly, painful to even listen to. “Uh… That- That’s okay. I have some. Thanks for the help.”

"You're welcome, I really must insist though, it wouldn't be right to leave you here. At least spend the night? I can build a fire for warmth, lend you a blanket?" Offering a hand, he hums softly, calloused fingers tan and marked with the practice of using the sword at his hip. "What do you say?"

The man hesitated. He grabbed Logan’s hand and hoisted himself up, then reached down to snatch his sickle. “I’m Remus. If you make a fire, I can set up a place to sleep.”

Remus didn’t have much on him. He clearly lived out of his backpack, a bedroll stuffed messily on top. His hooves were rough and scratched.

"Sounds like a deal, Remus! Oh, this here is Juniper, she led me to you." Helping him over, he looks Remus over. "Been out here for long?"

Remus smiled at Juniper awkwardly, then set his bag on the ground to pull out his bedroll. “So-so. Do you have a bedroll or anything?”

Tapping a bundle on Juniper, he nods, smiling a little as he turns to get a fire going for them. "I do. Want me to pass it over? I'll get her settled after I get a fire going."

“Yeah. Here.” Remus dug around in his bag for a minute, before taking out a paper-wrapped box. He tossed it to Logan. “Some meat you can cook. Do you eat meat?”

Catching it easily, he nods, the fire starting to crackle and glow merrily. "I'm not terribly picky so long as it's cooked. Did you hunt this?"

He tossed out his bedroll then grabbed Logan’s. “Yeah, this morning. Just glad it’s not going to waste.”

"Do you not eat meat then?" Tipping his head, he sets his pack down next to the box, turning to tend to Juniper.

“No, I just meant…” Remus laughed weakly and pulled off his trench coat, revealing a ripped up button-down in loose fabric. It hung off his shoulders and showed more of his chest than it covered. He pulled his mask down. He had delicate, round features, face covered in scars. “I almost died. It would’ve just rotted in my bag, you know?”

"Oh!" Blushing softly, he lets his eyes wander a bit, 'assessing the damage' on Remus. "You were quite injured, but I don't think you would have passed on. Shall I do another healing?" I knew I was more attracted to delicate males, but I am in trouble. He's so lovely!

He shook his head. “No, don’t waste it. I’ll feel better after getting some rest. Are you a cleric or something? How’d you… You know?”

"How'd I heal you? I'm a monk, I follow the traditions of the way of mercy. I used some of my energy to give you a little boost in health, and I can do so several more times before I rest if you have need?" Brushing out Juniper a little, he slides off her harness so she can graze.

“No, really, I’ll be fine. Thank you, though, that’s… Interesting.” He helped Logan skewer the meat over the fire, roasting it almost like he roasted marshmallows when he was younger. “Are you headed anywhere in particular?”

"Thank you." Turning the meat occasionally, he smiles. "I'm not really headed anywhere specific, are you?"

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “West. There’s a village on the coast I need to get to.”

"Would you object to some company? I was simply instructed to leave the monastery and assist others." Looking over at Remus, he smiles a little.

Remus pulled a sliver of meat from the fire and stuffed it into his mouth, showing off a row of sharp, fang-like teeth. Feral tiefling? Logan pondered.

Stick your hand in the fire!

“No,” Remus mumbled.

"Ah, excellent, then I shall accompany you to that village." Nodding, he hums. Feral or not, I did offer my assistance. He's dangerous but oddly cute.

Remus looked up in surprise, then bit back a curse. “I really don’t need any help,” he promised. “You don’t have to.”

"I don't, that's true. However, I did offer, and I truly don't have anything else to do. It would be a pleasure to accompany you if you'd like a road companion."

What, scared you’ll have to find a quick way to get rid of him? I know a fun way!

“Shut up,” Remus mumbled, then said louder, “Okay. Sure. I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep.”

He stood, then with a quick echo of fire? in his head, Remus swept his hand through the top of the flames and stepped away to find a good vantage place to take watch.

"Remus, wait! You're still recovering… If you won't let me heal you, at least let me take the first watch so you can rest and heal?" Logan frowns lightly, worried by the sporadic behavior of his new companion. Is he really okay?

Remus turned to him, pressing his now slightly-burnt hand to his skirt made of rags. “If I go to bed now, I won’t wake up on time for my shift, and I won’t be able to protect us as well. Let me ride the rest of my energy, then I’ll get some sleep. Promise.”

"Promise to wake me when your energy wanes?" Holding out his hand, he hums. "Let me heal you at least a little more as well, please?"

Remus hesitated, then sighed and took his hand. “It’s really a waste, but sure. And yes, I will wake you up.”

Taking his hand, he smiles softly, kissing the dark skin. "Mmm, thank you. It eases my mind to know you're more healed up to protect us."

Remus’ face turned bright red. “Uh… Th-thank you. Go to sleep, alright?”

Nodding, he winks, standing straight again and heading for where his bedroll is set up. "I will. I have some stretching to do first, but I'll be settling in. Thank you for watching the area, Remus."

Remus climbed up to a low-hanging branch and settled against the trunk, watching their little area.

You could always wait for him to sleep and take his stuff. His horse has taken a liking to you! She’d be easy to steal!

“I’m not doing that,” he mumbled.

Humming lowly as he works though some gentle stretches, Logan turns and clicks softly to Juniper, offering her a cube of sugar as he bids her goodnight. Remus went through his watch, enduring Adelaide’s taunts until he got tired, and finally let Remus settle into quiet.

He waited until he was about to fall off the branch from nodding off before he got down and shook Logan awake.

Waking easily, he smiles a little as it clicks who this is over him and he hums. "Remus… You waited a little longer than I thought. Did you want my warm bedroll? You look about ready to drop."

Remus blushed. “Uh… Sure. Let me just roll mine up.”

He reached for his cold one, only to land hard on his hands. He laughed it off and settled back on his knees, starting to roll it up.

Taking over the motion, Logan gently helps Remus onto his bedroll, settling his blanket around his shoulders. "Definite cue for you to rest. It'll help me wake up to get this all packed up."

Remus hesitated, but he really couldn’t help it. Logan’s blanket was warm against the freezing night air and it smelled like him. “Yeah… Okay.” He crawled around Logan to flop down onto the bedroll, kicking off his skirt and burying his face in the pillow.

Wrapping his cloak around himself more, Logan slides his hood up as he works, adding more wood to the fire. "You deserve a nice warm spot, Remus. Sleep well."

He mumbled something into the pillow, voice tight with embarrassment, and went to sleep.

Giving him a soft pat on the hair, Logan turns to making the camp set up organized, watching the edge of the light as the night passes. Hopefully he rests and heals up. I suppose I could try to sneak in another healing touch, but… He hasn't consented.

In the morning, the sun streamed through the trees and directly into Remus’ eyes, waking him up far earlier than he wanted. He pulled Logan’s blanket tighter around him and buried his face in the pillow.

Reaching over, Logan hums softly, trying to ease him back to sleep. "Shhh…."

Remus hummed at the hand in his hair and on his horns. “When d’you wanna get going?” He murmured.

"Not for a bit. It's just barely starting to lighten up." Stroking more, he smiles softly. "Not light enough for human eyes just yet."

He nodded, and started to respond, only to trail off sleepily. “M’kay,” he managed.

Rubbing over his horns, he smiles softly, getting out a little oil to rub into the chipped surface. "Sleep. I'm watching over you."

“What is that?” He mumbled.

"Oil made from pressed sunflower seeds. It helps skin and nails heal when they're dried out. I use it for when my hands are cracked from overwork. I. thought it might do your horns and hooves some good. May I?"

He blushed and peeked at Logan. “Sure. Not sure how much good it’ll do, but… Sure.” He poked his hooves out from under the blanket and presented his horns, which towered above his head. “Have you been this close all night?”

"I made a small circuit to walk every so often. As it's gotten lighter I can see further though, and you seemed to appreciate it when I was close." Stoking gently, he starts working in the oil with a soft cloth.

Remus hummed happily and stretched out his legs. “Was I talking in my sleep again?”

"A little… It wasn't a language that I know however. You did seem to settle more when I sat nearby. How are you feeling?"

“I’m good,” he mumbled. He sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “We should start packing up camp. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Hand glowing a soft green, he hums. "Very well. So long as you're feeling okay." Finishing up the oiling, he nods. "As soon as we get a little food, sure."

“There should be a town about an hour from here, if you want to get something at a tavern.” He folded up the blanket and bedroll. “Otherwise I can hunt something.”

"Ah, I haven't really been out this way. That tavern sounds lovely." Helping out, he starts putting the fire out.

Remus pulled on his trench coat and mask, then shrugged on his backpack. “I can walk beside you and Juniper.”

"You sure? She can carry us both." Getting the bedrolls attached to her saddle, he hums, sliding on her tack once more.

“I don’t want to impose,” he mumbled.

Reaching over, Logan taps Remus on the nose softly. "It's not an imposition. I offered, if you're okay with either sitting behind me or in my arms in front, we can make faster time? She's faster than either of us."

“Faster sounds good,” he mumbled. “I can be in front if you can drive that way… I’ll keep a lookout for any threats.”

"Sounds good to me, that way you can be warmer too. You could do with some more intact clothes." Offering his arms, he winks. "May I lift you up?"

He blushed and hooked up his pack, then grabbed Logan’s arms.

Settling his own supplies in place, he grins and lifts Remus with a little bounce as he overestimates his weight. "Oh my, you're so light!"

He blushed. “Not- Not that light, no…”

Flexing a little, he grins. "Mmm, toned, definitely. But to my strength, you're light, my dear." Settling Remus in place, he finds a tree and uses it to swing up into the saddle behind Remus safely.

Remus held onto Juniper’s neck, face bright red at Logan’s closeness and warmth.

Grinning, he reaches over to take the reins. "You okay, Remus? You're clinging like… oh, what was that sea creature with all the arms?"

“An octopus? I’m fine.”

"That's it!" Shifting Remus up a little, he hums, easing him to lean back on his chest as he guides Juniper in a slow walk back towards the path. "Just relax?"

“Yeah… Not too much, though. I gotta keep a lookout.”

Logan’s chest was burning warm against Remus’ back, his arms closing him in. When was the last time he was so close to someone? He didn’t think ever.

"That's fair, but at least a little so you don't have to worry about tipping off like a wood plank?" Smiling a little, he chuckles. "Don't want to worry about you falling, hmm?"

“I won’t fall,” he blushed.

"Good…" Scanning the woods, he hums, clicking his tongue to guide Juniper into going a little faster. "Don't want to see you hurt again."

Remus laughed weakly. “Right.”

Letting his fingers stroke over Remus a little in the guise of keeping him steady, he hums. "You're cuter without your blood staining your skin… at least to me."

Remus felt weak. He babbled out something unintelligible, before managing, “Do you save a lot of boys from the brink of death?”

"Not recently… and none quite as cute certainly!" Grinning, he hums, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "It was nice to feel your pulse return under my fingers~!"

Remus leaned back against him, his heart racing. He was in the middle of trying to figure out how to respond when something caught his eye up ahead.

He sat straight up. “Is that a barricade?”

"Hmm? Is it? I could redirect… Or try and jump it. I don't think she'd like that though."

“Don’t. We need to turn around.”

“Stop the horse!” A man demanded from behind them.

"I think that's out…" Kicking Juniper into a gallop, he swerves them to the left, not seeing anyone there even as two crossbow bolts strike the dirt behind them. "Got any ranged weapons, hun?"

Remus snatched his short bow off his bag and knocked an arrow, watching carefully for any sign of movement.

“STOP THE HORSE OR WE’LL SHOOT ITS LEGS!”

"Shit!!" Trying to see where they are and if they're a threat, he leans back a little to give Remus room to shoot as he lets Juniper guide herself, eyes searching for any more bolts. "Where are they?!"

Two more arrows shot off, one narrowly missing Juniper’s ankle and the other flying wide overhead.

Remus’ eyes narrowed as he caught their hiding place. A breeze of fabric swept behind a boulder, a head poking above a dip of land. Two crossbows rested over the cliff.

Remus snatched one of his sickles and dove off Juniper, rolling a bit sloppy but getting to his feet unscathed. Just as he landed, the arrows shot from the cliff. One landed in Logan’s upper arm, the other in Juniper’s side.

Pulling up short with a curse, Logan slides off his horse, turning to place himself between the attackers and his horse. "We're stopped! Stop shooting!”

The bandits, four of them, jumped out of their hiding spots and came closer with their bows. They stood about twenty feet away.

“Drop your bags and you can go,” one commanded.

"What proof have I of that?" Logan frowns, straightening up and using himself as a distraction for Remus, one hand sliding towards his sword.

They all glanced between each other. One of them jerked their bow. “Just drop it! Let’s get this over with!”

“No.” Remus shot his bow and hit a bandit straight in the chest.

He stumbled back with a groan.

"Gary!" One of the bandits steps out 5 feet and shoots at Remus with a shout. Another sighs and decides to take a shot at Logan. "We gave you a chance…"

Logan sidesteps the bolt, stepping in to draw his sword and swing.

The blade sunk into the bandit’s neck, blood gushing forward. The bandit dropped dead.

Remus kicked the second bandit down and brought his sickle through the bandit’s shoulder.

"Very nice!" Whipping his sword to clear the blood, Logan grins.

Seeing how the battle is going the last uninjured bandit turns to flee.

Remus raised his bow and shot, one hoof planted on the bandit’s chest— it sunk into his back, and he fell.

He pressed his sickle to the fallen bandit’s neck. “Are there more of you? Where’s your base?”

Stuttering and stammering, the bandit shakes his head, unable to get a clear sentence out.

Remus pushed the sickle closer. “Answer me or I’ll kill you now and track down your base myself.”

Setting a hand on Remus' shoulder, Logan hums. "Best answer, he means it!"

Gulping, the bandit squeaks. "There's just two more! Up the…" He points up to where there's a clear view of the road coming towards the barricade.

Remus swung, digging the sickle halfway through the bandit’s neck. He turned and stormed forward, leaping over the barricade. There were some shouts, some slices, then Remus reappeared with blood marking his arms and chest. He stared at the ground carefully, walking slowly.

Logan hums, looking up from where he's tending to Juniper, having healed her but only wrapped his own arm. He comes over to Remus, offering a hand. "All set? How are you doing?"

“I’m fine. I’m going after their camp, though. I can meet you at the town.”

Humming softly, he frowns. "I'm coming with, just in case you need backup, or you can meet me at the river. I think we both could use a scrub up."

“I’m not stopping for a bath,” he laughed, stopping to glance at Logan. “They could rob or kill someone else in the next five minutes. Tracks going this way, if you’re coming you’re coming.”

Chuckling softly, he nods, leading Juniper along. "I'm coming, and I meant after the clean up we clean up, before we get to town, dear."

Remus took his other sickle from his bag and ran his hand through Juniper’s mane. “Alright,” he whispered as he followed the tracks. “Uh… Thanks. Sorry for the…” He gestured to himself.

Reaching over, he taps Remus' nose, whispering back. "I'm just glad none of it's yours!"

He laughed quietly. “Really? You’d rather it be…?”

"Mercy where possible, but it should be acknowledged that it is not always possible. There's a reason that I carry a sword. I gave them an option, and they chose violence. I'd rather these few perish as opposed to however many they would harm or kill."

He nodded slowly. “How long have you been out here?”

"I left the monastery, hmm… I believe it was 8 days ago?" Pointing to a fork in the path, he hums, gesturing up.

Remus’ eyes widened. “Jesus. You… Do you have any adventuring experience?” Remus stopped and put a hand on Logan’s chest. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”

"I've been out on expeditions with my fellow monks. We are trained to be wanderers… and I have been on the road with my parents before I joined the order." Smiling, he takes Remus' hand, kissing it. "I am quite capable, my dear, but thank you."

Remus’ face turned bright red. He stumbled over his words for a moment, before taking his hand back and continuing along the tracks.

Grinning, he follows, watching for clues to where the camp is. While Logan didn’t find any tracks, the path they were on was not intentional, made from years of kicking away and flattening foliage. They trudged deep into the woods, silent and crouching the entire way.

Remus saw it before Logan did— Stilts of wood going between trees, a clear barrier. Remus narrowed his eyes and gestured for Logan to wait. Arching an eyebrow, Logan pauses, waiting to see how Remus procedes forward.

Remus misses seeing a wire settled near the ground as he moves forward, only feeling it when it presses against his ankle before it shifts quickly, slicing a little as it pulls a rope around his ankles and a net scoops him up into the trees.

“Fuck!” Remus hissed, scrambling around for his dagger.

There's some rustling in the area where the stilts lead up to, the trap having set off a silent alarm there as well.

Logan curses softly, heading to the area to see if there's a rope he can cut to help lower the net to the ground. "Calm yourself, don't thrash too much, you'll tangle yourself more!"

Remus slashed a hole in the net and it dropped him towards the ground, Logan darting forward to catch him, with a small smile.

"Got you, darling!"

He sets him down carefully, letting Remus get settled with the knife now properly stowed and brandishing his sickles as footsteps raced towards them.

Logan steps in front to shield him from the oncomers, sword out and ready to swing even as he's calling out to the people coming. "Prepare yourselves!"

Remus fought back the blush to focus. A bandit jumped out of the foliage and slashed at Remus with a scimitar, digging into his shoulder and wetting his coat.

Logan curses softly, touching Remus to heal him some with a ki. Stepping in prepares to attack the bandits at the next opportunity. One bandit with green hair kicked Remus away and took another slash, just barely missing. A half-orc stepped out of the foliage to Logan, bow held up. He shot, the arrow nicking Logan’s ear.

A half elf slices out at Logan with his scimitar, slicing into his side and making Logan shout out in pain. Remus growled and snatched his dagger only to throw it, sinking it straight into the half-elf’s eye and taking him down.

The last bandit pales a little, deciding to attack the taller human that they'd gotten a hit on rather than the scary looking black-horned demon, swinging wildly at Logan and missing terribly.

Logan turns, taking two swings at that cowardly bandit, hitting both times and making him choke on blood as he falls to the ground.

The half-orc in the trees shoots another bolt off, and it stuck into the tree above Logan’s head. Remus snarled and whipped around, throwing his hand out.

“You fucking coward!” He snapped, casting vicious mockery.

The bandit flinched and dropped his bow to hold his head, groaning.

"Want to do the honors of finishing the coward off, dear, or let him come down to face us?"

The half-orc reached for his scimitar, stumbling forward with a red face and narrowed eyes. Remus stormed forward and decapitated him with his sickle.

He sheathed them and groaned, holding his shoulder. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Logan frowns softly, reaching over to examine him, using a ki to heal him when he sees the damage.

“Goddamn,” Remus sighed, pressing his forehead to Logan’s shoulder. “How much of that do you got?”

Smiling a little, he gives Remus a gentle hug. "I can do that twice more today."

“I’ll try not to make you need it. I have a greater healing potion for emergencies, so don’t-”

“HEY!”

Remus froze.

“You pieces of shit done yet?!”

“Hide,” Remus snapped, crouching and diving into the foliage.

Freezing a moment longer than Remus, Logan makes for some bushes on the other side of the oath, having to take a moment to find one big enough to hide his bulky frame. Big footsteps fell along the ground.

A goliath bandit captain stepped around their camp, bushy eyebrows knitted into a deep frown. “Hello?” He grunted.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily, then snapped them open and sprinted out of hiding.

The goliath whipped around but Remus was faster, slashing the sickle along the goliath’s waist. The goliath hissed in pain, turning to Remus in surprise.

Stepping out, Logan attacks the goliath's back, slicing in deeply with a chuckle. The goliath stumbled away from them, face bright red.

“You killed my men?” He roared. “YOU KILLED MY MEN?”

He grabbed his great axe and charged Remus, his rage steering him wrong and missing wide. Remus jumped out of the way and brought the sickles down on his ankle, both missing.

“Fuck me!” Remus snapped.

"Maybe later, dear?" Logan can't help but quip as darts in to try a hit of his own, missing as well.

The goliath let out an unearthly cackle. “You murder my men and you can’t even get a hit in? Pathetic.”

He brought the greataxe down over Logan’s head. Logan ducked away but the axe still managed to slice through his robes and crack open his leg.

“Logan!” Remus narrowed his eyes, rage bubbling in his chest. He whispered menacing threats under his breath, Adelaide coming in with his own excitable suggestions.

The goliath looked around in panic, his eyes watering. He almost dropped his great axe, then shook himself out of it.

Grinning a little, Logan steadies himself, attacking once he's steady on his feet again with a wide grin, slicing into the goliath's arm. The goliath dripped blood, a steady trail along the ground. He was looking pretty beat up, but was still steady on his feet, grinning.

“You really think you two will walk out of here alive? A human, and a little devil? Defeating me?”

Remus braced his sickles. “I’ve killed more than you before.”

"Together we are stronger than alone!" Logan grins as he watches Remus move.

He glanced around the camp, taking in the mountains of supplies, the barrels and crates that clearly held corpses. He yelled angrily as Adelaide helped him hit, slicing his sickles into the goliath’s midsection. The goliath groaned and gagged as his stomach dropped blood and skin, dropping down to one knee.

Taking a step in, Logan swings twice, eyes hard. "You shall receive your just reward for the life you have lived here."

He looked back at Logan, eyes hard. With the realization that the two unlikely martyrs weren’t going to leave without killing him, a second wind rushed through him. He pushed himself to his feet. He slashed at Logan, opening a large cut in his chest and ripping away some of his robes.

Remus’ eyes landed on Logan, heaving for breath, limping. He rushed over and touched his face, black energy pooling around Remus’ hand and dispersing along Logan’s body.

Leaning into the touch a little, Logan smiles slightly as he steadies, dripping less blood as some of his injuries heal up. "Thank you, dear."

Turning back to the goliath, he frowns, stabbing him harshly. "I liked these robes. Blue is my favorite color."

The goliath howled in pain. He kicked Logan’s weapon away and turned to Remus. The greataxe lodged into Remus’ side. He doubled over as fire erupted along his side, sucking in a breath of pain.

“Fuck,” Remus choked out.

Adelaide’s laughter echoed in Remus’ head. Remus’ eyes glowed red, and purple flames surrounded the goliath.

When they melted away, the goliath laid on the ground, charred to a crisp.

"Wow…" Letting himself sit heavily, Logan laughs softly, a bit dizzy and mesmerized by the colors now that the danger has gone away.

Remus’ red, pupil-less eyes flicked to Logan. He grinned, blood staining his teeth. “You didn’t think I’d let him break my favourite toy, did you?”

Logan's eyes widened and he frowned. That was not Remus. From everything he’d learned from the monks… A demon was speaking to him. "Remus is not a toy. Release him please." Please don't make me fight him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He knows, Logan knows. Don’t make things worse. Please don’t make things worse.

“Don’t whine, darling, it’s unattractive.” Adelaide sighed and straightened up. That same black energy that healed Logan danced along Adelaide’s fingers, pressing it to his own forehead. Some of his wounds closed, but he still looked pretty beat up.

"Frankly, I don't care about being attractive to you. Remus' reaction is my concern. Who are you and why are you here…" Slowly pushing up, he retrieves his sword, using a ki to heal himself in case he has to fight this creature possessing Remus.

The demon laughed. He turned and headed back into the forest.

Where are you taking us?

“You were heading towards that village, weren’t you? We can have some fun. Don’t you miss it?”

Reaching for Remus' hand, Logan hums, gently commanding. "No."

Adelaide turned to him in surprise. “Sorry, was I talking to you? Or would you like to join?”

"I'm not sure what you're planning, but I have intuition that Remus doesn't agree with the plans. I'm standing up for his wishes. You can't just bully him like this." Keeping a firm grip on the dark arm, he straightens up to his full 6' 2" height and hardens his eyes.

A smirk curled over Adelaide’s lips. “And what will you do to stop me?” His voice echoed. “Remus likes it here.”

Stepping in, he hums, other hand sliding over the dark cheek, smearing a little blood. "Well… I'm willing to give Remus a kiss if he comes back. We had planned to wash up after clearing the bandits. I'm sure they have some clothes he could better outfit in."

Adelaide rested a hand on the side of Logan’s face. He pressed their foreheads together. “It’s cute how you think Remus has a choice in this,” he whispered.

His eyes rolled back and he fell.

#far from home #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders

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pixelzprince · 3 years

Text

Circuit - Lore Fic

FINALLY!! This lore fic has been about two weeks in the making now, and finally we can post it!

It’s a bit of backstory regarding Incandescent and Chill (and Wolvesbane, a bit) and the misadventures the thrill-seeking young dragons in the Hewn City get up to - basically an excuse to write a bunch of headcanons for the Shade. And let’s just say, when the most cursed city in an entire Flight territory is way more saturated with magic than usual.. something’s bound to go horribly wrong.

Warnings: Some mild horror themes, unreality/slight derealization/existential crisis stuff, you know. We’re dealing with the 10% More Eldritch Shade here after all. Also, mentions/implications of bullying, eugh.

Probably the darkest thing we’ll actually write out in our character lore, to be honest though things get better after this, it’s just a Not So Pleasant inciting incident-

With that out of the way, onto the show!

"So it's like, a ghost-themed biking group?" Chill had asked on the way to the venue. "Sounds.. kinda forced to me, to be honest."

His neon friend let out a poorly stifled guffaw, briefly lifting a claw from the handles of her bike to hide her grin. "I don't think you're in any position to say that, Mister 80s band tees."

Chill frowned, clinging a bit tighter to Ink's shoulders as they zoomed through the night aboard the latter's tricked out three wheeler bike; Incandescent's parents hadn't allowed her to get a proper motorcycle, and all Chill had was his old mountain bike, though the Mirror couldn't truthfully say he felt all that safe clinging to the spiny shoulders of a Banescale for dear life on a vehicle meant for one.

Thus, he'd urged her to drive as slowly and carefully (the damage to his "coolness" didn't go unnoticed) as she could manage given her high octane lifestyle - giving them much time to talk on the trip. Plenty of time to sling banter and waste breath meant for more valuable discussions.

"Right, so... you really capitalize on that Halloween aesthetic?" Chill tried again, wording his question carefully to dodge Ink's edgy defenses; for how nice his friend could be, she was like a spring-loaded trap full of retorts ready to snap given the right ammunition. "Everyone thinks you're some sorta cult, but it's just for the rep, right..?"

Ink quirked a wry grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the city. "Something like that." Her spines rattled with something akin to excitement, making Chill quietly yelp and adjust in the seat to avoid getting skewered. "Reputation's power, right?"

Chill fought the conditioned urge to shoot some witty sarcasm back, though his contemplation was interrupted as the bike came to an abrupt halt, worsened by the sudden prickling of scales against his arms.

"We're here," Ink supplied.

She slid off the bike, radiant scales glistening in the neon lights of the shopping center. Chill barely caught the discarded helmet slung at him, the weight smacking against his chest and knocking the air out of him. He called after her as he fumbled, "Heavy helmet for a hard head!"

Ink gave no indication that she'd heard him, merely striding off towards the parking lot of a nearby pizza place. Chill frowned, disappointed in the lack of acknowledgement. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the childish irritation, before hesitantly beginning to follow Ink.

He kept his head held low, eyes shifting around to observe the creeping murk of the city's almost unnatural darkness; even at only dusk, even with the piercing glow of dozens of light sources (the motorbikes' custom lights, the LED of the storefronts, the subtle hues of his own luminous capsule trait, his overwhelmed mind rattled off) the Hewn City's oppressive night seemed to leech as much warmth and luminescence as it could.

And this was Light territory; a shudder went through Chill as he dared to imagine what Shadow or Ice's expanses looked like at night, away from most sources of radiance.

Slinking past an unrelated crowd congregated by the road (they smelled of pizza, sweat, and ozone, probably some sports team, ugh), the Mirror soon reached his destination, a small group of dragons around his age, some younger, all gathered in the darkest corner of the parking lot.

How convenient.

Some were lazily leaned against their bikes as makeshift lounges, while others stood almost like guards, alert and scanning the area. Chill caught the eye of one of the latter category, a Nocturne with strikingly patterned scales. Their eyes widened as their gazes met, before they scowled and turned away slightly. They muttered something to their companion, a rather anxious looking Fae who was half coiled by the tail around a metal-studded bike just a tad too big for them. The Fae looked almost as out of place as Chill, wearing a brightly patterned hoodie and trying to look tough, though the amusing juxtaposition did little to reassure him.

Just what kind of crowd was this-?

Ink tugged him over, draping an arm over his shoulder in a gesture that, outwardly, may have seemed protective. Chill frowned and glanced up to see the mischievous, "I'm dragging you into shenanigans" grin that betrayed otherwise. He wilted under her conniving gaze, silently resigning himself to whatever hazing or crimes this so-called "biking club" had in mind.

Vandalism? Petty crime? He couldn't say he was up for it, himself, but he hoped whatever the group of off-kilter rebels had planned would at least be fun in the moment. Anything but bike racing, at least...

The wind began to pick up a bit, drowning out some of the quieter chatter around him. He allowed himself to relax, if only a tad bit; perhaps they were just.. hanging out. Loitering was a crime in some places, right? Passive crime, "safe" crime. Chill, figuring that the others had no interest in hanging out with him, distracted himself by counting the treasure in his pockets, wondering if he had enough to get himself a slice of pie. He may have been half Fae, but anyone, enhanced Mirror senses or not, could smell the thick, syrupy scent of apple cobbler wafting through the air from the pizza place.

It was all... so passive. Boring, but pleasant.

Of course, something had to give.

After what seemed like ages of tense stillness, Ink spoke up suddenly, her voice rumbling like a foreboding storm cloud, which Chill felt from where he was currently hugged to her side. Of course, the calm before the storm was over.

Despite everything, her voice was a tad comforting, a familiar sort of "danger" instead of the alarm bells that had initially screamed from every other corner of this place. Chill clung to her subconsciously, glaring out at the others and trying to tune out whatever was said, to just focus on the pure tone... dissociate into the void, or however the halfhearted joke went.

Despite his efforts, a few words slipped by, "Summoning" and "power" and whatnot. Part of the ghost gimmick, he assumed. He shuddered from the sudden, brisk breeze that whipped by, though instead of being hugged closer, he was abruptly shoved towards the center of the crowd.

A yelp escaped him as he stumbled to regain his bearings, his claws painfully catching on some uneven pieces of concrete. He hissed, swaying, before he glanced around to see what he'd missed in his half-attentive musings.

When had they formed an actually cohesive circle..? And around him specifically..? He looked back at Ink for explanation, though she averted her gaze. The wind rushed by, now deafening. It'd picked up unnaturally quickly, and Chill soon located its source, a growl ripping from his throat as he once again met the eyes of the Nocturne.

Airborne Parchment?! Where would they get something like that? Instead of using the windbound material for its intended purpose of bringing life to drawn objects, the supposed leader of the group was merely willing forth elemental gales of wind into existence. They didn't seem to have much hold over it, but control wasn't the intention, merely... power.

"What are you doing?!" Chill hollered. He snapped out of his stupor, storming towards the amateur spellslinger. Their eyes seemed to widen a fraction, perhaps in shock, though before more words could be exchanged, their previously awkward Fae companion leapt into action, shooting forth and headbutting Chill right in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard hit, rather a precise one. Capsule dragons were known for their vulnerable stomach area, and sure enough, Chill reeled back, hardly able to prevent himself from crumpling to his knees back in the center of the circle. He was freezing and burning all at the same time, battered by brisk winds and the uneasy sort of thrum that rippled through the earth itself.

And yet, finally, through the gale, voices rang true. "We've never done this before, true.." It was a tinny, raspy voice that grated on Chill's ears. "But but but!! Someone naïve was needed to call forth the Shade. Call forth, not use as a vessel. He won't be hurt."

"So he's the flippin bait you mean?! Can it with the sugarcoat." A painful shockwave rattled Chill's senses as Ink screamed from somewhere above him. "And you've never done this before? He's a test dummy if anything-"

Her hands are blazing with light, undoubtedly, as she growled, "You said you knew what you were doing."

"Silence," a third, cool voice intercepted. It reverberated much stronger than the rest. "It has already begun. The artifact will draw the Shade near."

The Shade?

Chill's eyes stung as he forced them open, and he instantly regretted it. His surroundings were awash with too-bright colors, the dragons around him more like blobs of light against the pitch of his surroundings. Alarms blared in the back of his disoriented brain, and he bared his teeth, trying to stand. His claws uselessly scrabbled against the suddenly slick concrete for some purchase, and by the time he managed to stand, he could faintly see something somehow darker than the existing murk rising from the cracks.

Liquid dripping upward, unburdened by the constraints of reality.

And all fell silent, as if the world itself paused to gaze into the void.

He watched it for a moment, himself, mesmerized by its headache-inducing, impossible blackness. It swayed in an inviting, inquisitive manner, hardly blotting out the dull panic slowly igniting in the Mirror's bones. Only the very edges of its fluid form seemed to reflect light, almost like a cartoonish outline that barely detracted from how otherworldly the substance was.

The Shade..

A quiet, almost breathless whisper shook the stillness, "It worked..."

And Chill's world exploded into white hot pain, impossible fireworks set aflame behind his eyes.

~~~~~

A pulse. A pain. A thrum of negative power.

A shockwave cuts through the souls of all in the crowd, invasive and calculating and yet erratic all the same. Wild to their perception and coiling and thriving with an intelligence beyond this world. It.. analyzes them, down to the core, samples their magic and minds, and then it's gone.

The all-encompassing murk seems to draw in all light like an amorphous black hole. It's fluid and yet like plasma, burning and freezing, hollow and yet dense. It moves with a weight that's not quite physical, though fearsome and ancient all the same. Though as soon as the display of eldritch un-energy begins, it stills, settles, coalesces in the center of the circle in a more manageable form.

The summoning worked... or so they'd thought.

The Nocturne stares, captivated. The now useless parchment drops limply from their claws as they breathe, "Oh... Lightweaver.."

Ink breaks the stillness with a snarl, "Orbit!" and in an instant, the Banescale's upon the summoner, a tangle of claws and spikes and conflict. The summoner has no chance to react, the air knocked out of them as Incandescent crushes them prone to the ground and screams in their face, "What did you DO-"

They manage to whisper, "The summoning worked," though their heart's not in it. They cast a forlorn gaze towards the semi-solid insubstantiality. Their poor artifact, perfectly crafted to contain traces of the Shade... lost to this blunder. "At a cost..."

The sentiment sends Ink hysterical. "At a cost?" She devolves into wordless screams, all fight leaving her as she weakly shakes Orbit, who stares into the tearful gaze hollowly. Others break from their frozen state to attempt to break up the fight, life and energy, albeit a tense sort, flooding back.

Life cannot be paused for long, after all. The elements, however dimmed they may be, quickly resume their presence.

Ignoring the halfhearted tussle, the Fae from before hops down from his perch, silently striding past the "fight". His palms flare with magic, bright and cold and merciless, matching the shine of his eyes. Gone is the awkwardness, even in the face of the Shade itself.

The insubstantiality, which has collected into the form of the Mirror that it claimed, raises its "head" slowly, shakily in a false show of weakness. Its eyes, the only spots of light on it, blaze like searchlights, betraying its true strength.

The Fae speaks, that raspy tone adding a hint of menace to his words, "A failure.. another failure." He bares his teeth and snarls, "An expensive failure."

Another? The impossibly lightless plasma inches back, fan-like crests pinning back as it gazes into the wild eyes of disappointment and scorn. The Shade does not know fear... but all this creature knows is the impulse of fight or flight humming in its hollow core.

Something akin to a heartbeat pulses in its "chest". Quick, fearful, hardly present. Move, flee.

The fighting's died down, Ink dragged away from Orbit's huddled and silent form, and all the Banescale does is scream into the sky, into the speckled night. Yet the darkness she screams at is nowhere near the impossibility of the Shade which has claimed her friend.

Fear. The heartbeat stutters. Run.

Elemental ice, wicked and glowing, freezes the spot where the being had been mere moments before. The Fae spits a venomous string of blights, at the summoning, at the lost artifact, at the waste of time. But the residual darkness staining the ground isn't the Shade he'd aimed to erase.

It's already long gone, fleeing through the gaps of reality itself, through the tear from which it arrived.

~~~~~

Find safety.

Get out of there. Away. Far away.

But where..?

~~~~~

The fragment of Shade rematerializes in the subway. From the darkness itself, it's ejected, the ambient Shadow element of this world rejecting its unnatural presence and leaving it to sizzle in the fluorescent, buzzing lights of the few operational signs in this district.

And yet, it relaxes, collapsing shockingly solidly upon the cold, smooth pavement.

It's silent for once, the normal hustle and bustle of the city having been driven out by recent damages done to this railway. Even the usual stragglers, kids like Ink's club, who normally loiter around the "spooky abandoned subway" for kicks have long since either gone home or to the park to camp out.

Not even the most daring of delinquents would test their luck napping in the hollow depths of the earth. Not in Light territory, especially.

They say Light, for all its pristine brightness, hides something eldritch. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows after all.

Perhaps, this is that something.

With that thought, the insubstantiality lets out a cry.

Get to safety. Hide.

It manages to stand, first shakily onto all fours, then to its hind legs. It limps towards the darkest corner, baking in the light, before it stumbles and trips to its knees again, gasping. The air passes through it, not that it needs to breathe; nonetheless, it curls up and forces itself to inhale and exhale, if only to replicate the life that it'd sensed all around it just minutes before.

Breathe.

It scrabbles at its chest its claws finding little purchase in the slick, incorporeal material making up its form. Frictionless, there's no way to scratch through to tear out the artifact inside, now bound to its metaphorical core.

It’s alive. ALIVE.

Yet the mere contact sends it reeling, light shimmering from within and just barely reflecting off its body, enough to outline its limbs among the tangled darkness, to give some definition to its form.

It’s… I’m real. I'm alive. I'm real.

The tentative balance of energy and nothingness snaps, allows life to win over, if only slightly. He remembers, his eyes glowing not with a pure, absent white like before, but with a blend of violet and fiery hues, a rapidly shifting twilight twinkling in his gaze.

Time releases a breath it'd been holding since the threads of reality first snapped.

They'd summoned The Shade, of all things. They'd tethered it to an artifact, which had tethered itself to him. He could still, if only faintly, feel his own magic humming beneath the oppressive gloom which coated (comprised?) his form, but it was.. contaminated, thoroughly so.

His poor excuse for a heart thumped once more, only seeming to beat prominently when he was struck with powerful emotion. He held his paws to his chest, focusing on that sound, willing it to continue, to prove he was still of the living realm.

Yet the heartbeat stilled soon enough, merely the erratic pulsing of a cursed artifact attempting to keep the Shade in check. To keep things in balance, in control.

The altruistic part of him was glad that such an artifact was now useless to that group. With such potential, to control even a piece of an otherworldly horror... he didn't even want to imagine what it could be used to bring about.

Petty crimes, he at least hoped. Petty crimes deluxe edition, don't get caught.

A bitter laugh escaped him, distorted and crumbling in the umbra. No need to worry about crimes now, at least. Their power... it was his now... it was him now.

Or perhaps he was its.

He waved a claw, watched it seem to flicker as if already cutting through atoms in the air with a single gesture, leaving smoky afterimages behind.

As the memories of the past thirty or so minutes flooded back, he realized, he can do just that, he has done just that, slipped out of the physical plane and just moved, perhaps faster than light for a moment, even.

So that's what teleportation really was.

The childish part of him would've relished in the idea of obtaining cosmic power, like some sort of superhero, though he knows better. His own magic fights constantly within, a storm of elemental energy caught in an endless cycle of extinguishing and reignition, with the artifact in the center, regulating it all.

He's no superhero, and this is no origin story.

He stared at the high, arching ceilings, at the darkness that would've once strained even his Shadow element eyes.

He's no superhero... he's just a circuit.

#flight rising #fluffyfics #body horror tw #unreality tw #horror warning #FluffyCharas #Chill Fallenleaf #Orbit #Ink Shimmer #Wolvesbane #angst cw #//just in case//#//it's not that bad we're just tagging everything for caution//#Shadow Officiants #Clanless #Hewn City

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mikiib · 3 years

Text

The Magnus Archives: ALIEN AU (Part 3)

Jon manages to remember to close the door to the Artifacts Room but in his panic does not lock it. Rushing quicker till he reaches the cryochamber room he immediately wakes them all up, yelling at them to get up even as he quickly looks around in paranoia for one of those creatures to pop up- there are 2 entrances to this room by door and he hastily rushes back and forth between them as the others- much more exhausted from having to rush their cryosleep recovery- question his sanity. That is- until Martin notices Jon’s neck and shirt- the entire left side of him seemingly splashed with blood.

Melanie at first thinks this is some elaborate joke, asking where Sasha is and when she’s gonna pop out to surprise them before Tim shuts her up- demanding to know where Sasha is if these creatures Jon’s describing are real. Jon says it was Sasha that led him into a trap with that nest of creatures, and Tim grabs the front of Jon’s shirt and slams him against the wall.

Tim is basically outraged at the thought that Sasha might not really be Sasha but its Georgie and Martin playing peacemakers as they pull the two apart. Georgie reasons if they really are in danger they need to go to the security surveillance hub- it’s doors can be locked on command from the inside and they all agree this is a smart idea. Nikola is quick to tend to Jon’s wound- remarking that the slash to his throat is similar to that of a barbed mouth- meant to latch on and not be yanked off for whatever reason. Jon is deeply unsettled- considering himself very lucky. Melanie picks up The Admiral- him much more sleepy than the rest to even wake up properly yet.

They eventually make their way to the Security room and lock themselves in there. Georgie, not wasting time as she logs into the camera system to find- not only finds the visual feed on the cameras no longer working but the audio as well. Jon turns to Tim and Martin and asks them what could’ve done that, and Tim eventually shoots back that the cameras had to have been entirely destroyed if they no longer are picking up anything. They turn to look at their own cameras location in this room and just that- the whole camera is missing from its place.

The room grows silent, a chill rippling across their moods as they begin to realize how serious this whole thing is. Martin then asks if there's any way for them to view the ship otherwise, Tim then points out there are the motion sensors that are all over the ship's floor panels. Only way those are busted is if they to get fully removed from the floor. Turns out they are all intact- aside from the ones in the Artifact Storage. Movement is noted coming from that direction and moving randomly now throughout the ship.

Nikola openly ponders just how such creatures could’ve been born on the ship- and asks them that if they are to hunt these creatures down- to bring her the corpse of one to study. She claims that even if they are violent- a dead one will be enough to bring back for proof of their events thus far.

They agree to this- not wanting the whole of this ship's damage to be placed on them for any reason. They split up into 2 groups, equipping themselves with some spare pipes and walkie talkies. Melanie and Georgie are Team A and Jon, Tim and Martin are Team B. Nikola is set to feed them information on the creatures locations as well as keeping track of their own.

Melanie and Georgie are headed towards the location Jon last said the creatures were, while the boys make their way to the engine room where movement is being tracked.

Jon eventually is the first to find a face hugger- it jumps out at him just as Tim bats it away from him.

Scene:

Jon’s ears were ringing. The squeal of the creature combined with the whistle of the pipe playing back in his mind as he stares up at Tim. He doesn’t even register Martin’s hands pulling him up from the ground from where he fell out of shock until a hand presses against the small of his back to balance him.

“You saved me,” he breaths, the present seemingly slapping him across the face as Tim snatches Jon’s crowbar from his grasp,” Thank you,” he stutters.

“Don’t thank me yet-“ Tim steps away from him and stabs the creature from its dazed state,” I’m just fucking pissed,” he brought the weapon up into the air before repeating the action several more times until the creature stopped squirming. Its shrieks nothing but a low hum now as its impaled body is lifted up and examined. He offers the skewered creature towards Jon, instinctively his hand reaching out to take it. The crowbar now seems to be deteriorating, bending and hissing from the blood that oozed slowly from the creature. He makes a not to see the ship has also started corroding from where the creature was brutally killed only moments prior.

Acid blood Jon realizes as he tosses the creature's body away from the engines. Taking a moment to examine his hands to see if any had gotten on him.

The radio chirps as Martin reports they killed one of the creatures, and all else seems clear from that room. Static comes before Nikolas voice chimes back.

“No, no, no! That can’t be right! More movement is still detected within that room,” Jon narrows his eye towards the radio and Tim reaches for his own as he cautiously walks through the narrow spaces of the engines, pipe in hand.

“Where-?” In a flash Tims body is slammed backwards onto the floor from the passageway- his shout muffled and gurgled by some terrible squishing sound. In less than a moment Tims body stops struggling and Jon and Martin are stunned by the scene.

“Tim!” they simultaneously shout, rushing forward to assist their downed crewmate.

Scene Ends

Martin calls out for help over the radio and Nikola says she’ll meet them in the observation and medicine room. Jon swears under his breath as he struggles to carry Tim, Martin taking it upon himself to guard them with a fire extinguisher. He reasons it has enough heft it should send them flying like the crowbars. It isn’t until they reach the last stretch that they find another face hugger- going for Martin.

He doesn’t think as he swings his weapon, and only knocks it back a bit. He pulls the pin of the fire extinguisher and hoses the creature down- hoping to stun it as his swing didn’t seem to have much effect as he’d hoped. As the fog clears away however they find the creature is very much dead- curled in on itself like a spider. Jon shutters at the thought. They find shelter in the medical room and try not to stare too much at Tim as Nikola makes it to them- no issues that come across on her way.

Jon radios Team A their current situation but to no response. His nerves are on fire, as he’s torn to know why Georgie and Melanie aren’t responding and saying by Tims side. Martin tries himself, informing them of the weakness found with the fire extinguisher, and warning them of the blood. Jon didn’t tell Martin about the blood, but it seems he’s perceptive enough to have pieced it together himself.

Melanie and Georgie however are in their own situation- too busy shutting off the radios to hide from the xenomorph that is currently searching for them. They had spotted it down the hall near the docking bays entrance, and when running away they noticed the creature jump into a vent and hear it chasing after them through them.

Melanie and Georgie had indeed made it to the artifact storage. Now however were hiding in the office lounge- both crouching behind their respected desks. The creature jumps down from the vents, its forehead looking like a morphed face of Sasha, with a body mixed with that from what they saw on the alien ship and that of a human body. It looked wrong to say the least.

Melanie- closer to the fire extinguisher grabs it quietly as Georgie goes to sneak towards Melanie's desk- which had a survival knife in it. As she does her pipe hits the floor creating a loud enough echo to catch the Not-Sashas attention. It screams and laughs as it hurdles its way towards Georgie. Melanie- ever quick on her feet pulls the pin and sprays the creature in the face- right before bashing it in the head. It clicks unholy sounds as Georgie grabs the knife and makes a dash for the door. Melanie follows quickly behind her but when she goes to lock the door the creature's tail shoots out and stabs her in the eye.

She screams in pain and rage before she sprays the creature once more- it’s body not dying but shaking violently in pain from the cold as it jumps into a vent to escape the extinguisher's wrath. Just in time too as Melanie almost collapses from pain of her own bodily injury. Georgie catches her just in time.

Georgie tells Melanie to head to the Med bay where the others are- equipping Melanie with the knife, but Melanie pleads with her to not leave her alone. Georgie kisses her forehead before pushing her off in the right direction and takes the pipe and swings at the vents opening, grabbing the aliens' attention more than Melanie's running away. PART 1 PART 2

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 46 – I Heard Nothing

“Don’t kill him. Not just yet. We’d better figure out how big is his dagger and how much he managed to unsheathe and plunge it into our backs.”

Said M-21 to Lunark, who was rummaging her cloak.

“...Can’t guarantee I’ll remember that, but for now I’ll give you my word.”

Countered Lunark to M-21, who was turning away to get his clothes changed.

She was ready to warm up her joints, with nobody to send her away due to her rejection, when a sound stilled her steps.

“Lunark.”

Familiar were both the voice and the name. However, with the two combined Lunark jumped as if she were caught on fire.

It was the very first time having none other than Raizel calling her name.

She assumed only something important would have urged the Noblesse to delay her at such emergency; thus she obediently held her movements and waited for his following words.

Contrary to her assumption he merely stared at her in silence, and Lunark gently crushed her teeth against each other in anxiety.

She decided to ask for his understanding and save whatever it is for later if it falters in necessity. After all, the situation was dire.

Alas, that was when he chose to voice himself.

“At last I have come to see a promise.”

She could determine neither the purpose nor meaning of his words, and her pink eyes flipped like a pancake on a frying pan.

Before she could request for his explanation regarding this promise, Raizel began to retrace his steps back into his home. Apparently he never intended to keep her locked in her place for long.

At the same time, he left something that grabbed Lunark’s steps in their places for good.

“I shall count upon you concerning Frankenstein.”

She could not move for a while even after his disappearance.

She knew that the timing was outrageously wrong for her to speculate so, but it was as if she was watching a father who is sending away his treasured son to be someone’s husband.

‘Husband my behind. Snap out of it, Lunark.’

She had to shake her head to free her mind from idle thoughts. And by doing so, her brain brewed a duty that awaits her, sharpening her concentration to maximum.

Next up came rage, upon picturing a certain white-haired man; now she felt like punching herself in the face for not finding herself an opportunity to use his head as a shovel to dig up a grave for him when they were both elders of the Union.

With her fury driving her, Lunark finally kicked off and threw herself in the air.

Her mind was still keenly reverberating with wrath, shock that did not fade a bit, and hurried commitment.

On the other hand, a corner of her mind was echoing with desperation, and Lunark minced her lips as if her life depended on the action.

‘Please stay safe, Frankenstein... Please hang in there!’

*****

Few days later, Frankenstein’s island

“Welcome back.”

Frankenstein merely flapped his hand to 3rd Elder’s greetings and walked past him, which whipped the latter’s heart with cold biting sensation.

‘...He didn’t notice, did he?’

He knew, of course, that there was no way Frankenstein would know.

Because now he knew the recording device and camera Frankenstein implanted in him are no good.

And he wanted a word with the man regarding the matter.

He watched how Frankenstein was tramping forward, looking too exhausted he could bet the lord of the island would fall by simply having his name called, and he could feel guilt kicking and wrenching his conscience.

Are you sure it’s simply because you’re about to deny an exhausted man of his rest?

Muffling a voice whispering from a corner of his heart he could not pinpoint, 3rd Elder decided to speak.

“...Wait.”

Frankenstein, whose steps were weighed with fatigue, turned his head with much struggle.

Based on the fact that such ridiculously simple gesture was embedded with struggle, 3rd Elder could clearly see how serious Frankenstein’s state was.

That did nothing to make 3rd Elder change his mind, for this was the only chance he had.

“There’s something I’d like to ask.”

“...Be quick about it. I have a long way to go.”

Now that he was handed with the mic, 3rd Elder could not help but gulp.

‘...Just how did things turn out like this?’

The original plan was supposed to end with his immediate evacuation, instead of this confrontation.

‘...Who would’ve known our encounter would be led to this?’

Just a day ago, a weapon against heads of noble clans – or Sol, who has made the body his house and ride – presented himself at the island.

Here. Take it.

What’s this...?

It’s the chemical Union has been keeping. You know, the one that renders a substance its countersubstance. I believe I wouldn’t have to brief you about its use.

The man nodded, and that was supposed to be it.

Yet he asked Sol how he found out about this place, which ultimately rolled a snowball that raced all the way towards his conversation with Frankenstein.

I tracked down your whereabout. Do you remember what happened when you first ran into Ms. Helga?

Yes, but nothing in particular ha... Wait a minute. She did land a blow on my torso as soon as we recognized each other. Is this what you’re referring to? Speaking of which, after that Frankenstein did announce that my camera and recording device were jammed. Though he soon replaced them with functional ones.

Actually, that’s when Ms. Helga planted something in your body, and that thing is equipped with tracking feature. Forgive me for telling you now; she believed we shouldn’t tell you until we are assured that you’re with us.

There’s something inside me...? What did you do?

It’s a sort of distractor. We figured Frankenstein would leash you with a surveillance kit or two, so we requested our conspirator to come up with an anti-kit.

Conspirator? You mean...

Yes, he’s the inventor. It’s a mixture of a stealth device that absorbs sounds above certain decibels and a device that emits special signal to cause only noises for every type of footage-recording device. Both devices distract instead of destroying or freezing, so it would prevent Frankenstein’s knowledge, given that he calibrated his devices so he would pick up as soon as they are unavailable in function. And it’s a unique invention from its proposal to completion.

Shortly expressing marvel at devices that flaunted creativity, 3rd Elder feasted upon the thundering pounds of his heart.

If Sol’s words are as authentic as they could be, Frankenstein has been left in the dark concerning his behaviors ever since he met Helga.

Simultaneously, he could feel question nudging his cognition.

If his camera and recording device did not work properly after replacement, there is no way Frankenstein would not have pointed it out.

Nevertheless, the blonde scientist has never once sought him after replacement.

One excuse he could think of was that Frankenstein’s judgment is now fatally clouded, thanks to the sleeping issue he has been suffering.

Notwithstanding, his past history at Union was telling him there must be more than it seems behind this mystery.

And it was coercing him to find out more.

Sol, I know this is out of nowhere, but I need your help.

My help? For what...?

I’d like to find my voice and footage files Frankenstein would have collected so far.

With Sol’s hands in action, 3rd Elder could sneak a peek into Frankenstein’s personal files.

The firewall failed to stand against their infiltration, perhaps the network security compromised due to loss of connection during the failed activation of QuadraNet.

At the end of his navigation, 3rd Elder was turned speechless.

‘...How can this be?’

He could find records of his words and actions only from the times when he was beyond the shorelines.

The counterparts from the times when he was tucked within the boundaries of the isle were nowhere to be found.

‘Was he lying when he said he’s got his eyes on me on this island?’

Impossible.

That devilish homo sapiens will never do that.

We were adversaries to start with, and he’s keeping me alive just because he can make use of me.

Despite his uncertainties, 3rd Elder could not stop himself from dispensing the topic now that he was faced with the man of interest.

“Am I free of surveillance while I am on this island?”

In a flash, Frankenstein’s face marred with exhaustion and a bit of annoyance was sparked with icy glare.

Though the change did nothing, other than lightening the shade of the bags under his eyes by a tone.

“Don’t get me wrong. Before your return, I was reminiscing my days at Union and... Uh, I muttered something that you might take as a hint that I’m waiting for an opportunity to stab your back. Yeah, that’s right. I’m turning myself in, so you wouldn’t make a Dark-Spear-skewered meat out of me.”

The man did not miss how Frankenstein flinched albeit very faintly the moment he mentioned the cursed weapon.

Exhibiting none of his observations, he continued on.

“There’s a possibility that you didn’t check my voice print yet, but allow me to dare ask you, since you hadn’t burst into my room to throw a fit at me so far. Is this voice recorder inside me actually working...?”

Before either of them knew it, Frankenstein had fully turned to gaze at the speaker, who could feel his throat clenching as he witnessed how the master doctor was not even blinking.

I shouldn’t have asked. If only I can go back in time. If only I can have a word with the past me.

As 3rd elder was winding up bunch of thoughts, Frankenstein muttered, “...This is something students from my school used to say at a time like this: there’s a reason why sometimes it’s better to walk around in underpants than with smarty-pants.”

“...Beg your pardon?”

“That’s right. The voice recorder and the camera are off when you are in this island, via my judgment.”

The 3rd Elder’s face scrunched up so hard it almost looked foul: the one person ought to stay vigilant upon him was practically playing vigilant all this time.

“...But why?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? I’m not like Union, that’s why. I have no intention to keep tabs on each and every word and action of someone sharing my roof, like the Union lot had done. Most importantly, I happen to have a family. A family that had to go through horrible manipulation of body and mind under the Union. So there’s no way I’m doing what you have in mind. Now, if that answered your question, please excuse me.”

Frankenstein did not even wait for 3rd Elder to thaw from his mute stupefaction and promptly left.

That did not release 3rd Elder from his petrification.

‘He’s been neglecting me so far...?’

No, he was not neglecting me.

He was trusting me.

Perhaps it was too soon for him to employ the synonym of faith, but at least there was no doubt the way Frankenstein is treating him is different from the way he treats him.

When he explained why he was not keeping surveillance on him, the vocabulary he pulled out was ‘Union.’ Not ‘you Union folks.’ Or ‘your people.’

Which was a proof that Frankenstein no longer identifies him as part of the Union.

He thereby showed how he unconsciously crossed off 3rd Elder’s name from his list of foes.

As soon as he relished in the fact, he could feel something straining his heart.

And then he recalled what he had done at Frankenstein’s lab before his return.

Feeling something striking his chest, he turned halfway towards the lab, only to stop dead not after long.

The table was toppled, and the pieces of what used to lie on top cannot be restored.

‘...There was no other choice. This is for the Union. For the humanity.’

I heard nothing.

I. Heard. Nothing.

He endeavored to cover the fact that his hands are bloody, tagging definitely-not-nothing as nothing.

And he sprinted to get away from the crime scene on the double.

(next chapter)

Yes, 3rd Elder did feel guilty; yet he decided to stab Frankenstein in the back. :’( And this isn’t the end of his appearance. Of course it’s not! Please stay tuned to find out what he does after this what his betrayal will bring about; I can guarantee that the result will be nothing close to meaningless.

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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toilalo · 4 years

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🔪 🔪 ---- I don’t know if I’ve ever explicitly stated here, but Silver is from a small, subsidiary set of islands far off the coast of Inazuma. They don’t hail to any one Archon (( rather there are people who hail to each of them )), and they get along rather peacefully. Despite being technically apart of Inazuma, Baal does not specifically protect them, so there are, in the most technical sense, a set of islands without an Archon.

🔪 🔪 ---- They are a people that have a deep history and a very rich culture and traditions. While they do small trades for specific goods (( such as cotton, silks, some spices, wine, ect )) they for the most part exist completely on their own. They do not speak the native languages that Inazuma, or the main lands of Teyvat speak. They are a very hearty people whose primary diet resides in meat (( Boar, Birds )), fish, and primarily fruits !!

🔪 🔪 ---- One of the largest traditions of this island it becoming a warrior, as their lands are riddled with various dangers (( a bit worse than the main lands, seeing as they are not protected by an Archon )). Its imperative that new generations are taught to fight, regardless of gender. As you get older you can change your career path of course, but those that decide to follow the path of a warrior are highly revered.

🔪 🔪 ---- This path is not easy, it requires a life time of diligent training and trials that no child should deal with alone. While most had parents to watch over them, Silver did not. He’s an orphan, and spent the entirety of his younger life completely alone in the wilds of a very harsh land. It’s the reason why he has unparalleled strength, and despite wielding large swords, speed. He was seven when he came across his first Lawachurl, after all (( though he did have to flee that fight )).

🔪 🔪 ---- Silver lived like this until he was about thirteen, and that’s when Beidou’s ships happened to dock, he stowed away before the left, and ended up becoming a pirate thereafter. Because of his brute strength, and rather feral and vicious strategies and tactics he eventually climbed the rankings and became the Quartermaster of the Fleet, and Beidou’s first mate.* When Silver turned eighteen, they returned to his home islands so he could finish his training as a warrior, his final trial.

🔪 🔪 ---- This trial was a mess. As per their law, seeing as he had no parents, not even the guardians could assist should something go awry. Silver faced against a hoard of enemies, Lawachurls, Hilichurls, Slimes, you name it, he faced it. He fought with a spear at the time, though in an slip of a move, the Mitachurl managed to snatch away his spear, and skewer him through. He still retains the scars on his abdomen from it to this day, but he did not fall, and he did not fail.

🔪 🔪 ---- Silver’s entirety, his very soul, thrives off his determination, and indomitable will, and through his own sheer will power he forced himself to complete his task. It was that moment he was nearly granted two visions, though the Pyro Archon beat the Geo to the punch, and with that Vision he managed to complete the trial, and temporarily seal his wounds. He promptly passed out and had to be carried back to the village. A week later after the final trial, a celebration was held for all of the warriors that completed their final trials that year ;; in turn it was also to honor all of the warriors they lost that year, as well.

🔪 🔪 ---- Each year (( if one is chosen )) seven titles are passed down, one title to represent one Archon. Not all titles are passed down if the previous title holder does not agree with the new chosen title holder. The longest lasting titles would be the Geo Archon and the Cryo Archon’s titles ;; it is hard to fine one that can be cold and calculated in the face of pain of a loved one. Likewise it is hard to find one that can manage to stand and face against anything completely unwavering, to withhold any form of promise with the utmost honor.** The Geo title hasn’t been passed for nearly thirty years, and the Cryo for nearly fifteen.

🔪 🔪 ---- That day during the celebration, Silver gained a title, he would be the islands new Stone Dragon ;; he was given the Geo Archon title. After his wounds healed, he also gained his tattoos, ones dedicated to Rex Lapis in honor of his title, and what he stands for for his community. When he eventually returns home, he will become the next warlord, if not the next Chieftain.

🔪 🔪 ---- It was shortly after that that Silver finally left the Crux Fleet, deciding that he would like to see the rest of the world before he is to return home. He’s also found himself curious about his vision -- curious that he was given a Pyro Vision of all things, instead of a Geo one. After all, everything else in his life has led to gaining a Geo Vision (( he has yet to realize he gained because of his determination to win, to keep others safe. Its this very passion that made the Pyro Archon leap to grant him his blessing )). Thus, he’s become a researcher, studying Visions, and constellations as well ;; he has also returned to his roots of primarily being a hermit out in the wilderness.

🔪 🔪 ---- Because of where he’s from, Silver does have a heavy accent when he speaks, and because he was a pirate, he tends to slur his words together on occasion. He has far more knowledge than he lets on, but that’s not to say him acting as a dumbass is completely a lie. He was a wilds child after all, there is quite a lot he doesn’t know.

* I wont force / require any Beidou rpers to follow this, this is more of just in general with others. However..... Beidou rpers............ 🥺 👉 👈

** I rEALLY want to expand on this but since we don’t know too much about the other archons I can’t and I’m mad about it >:[

#⟣⇢ C || Silver Theo Varus #⟣⇢ Verse 003 #⟣⇢ Headcanons #this is very long whoopsies

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abizarreyodelingincident · 5 years

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Ridiculous Optimization: The Art of Finding the Right Tool for the Wrong Situation

Chapter two: Never put that on again

Time had long since discovered that his exasperation in dealing with the assembly of goblins that were the legendary heroes of Courage was proportionate to the amount of supervision on any given evening. For example, Wild could and would test any idea he had unless strong armed away by Twilight. Chastising him (or snarking at his ideas if you were Legend or Warriors) meant that you were ignored as surely the result would be so spectacular as to shut up all the unbelievers!

So far, only the incident where he shield surfed down a mountain to perform acrobatics and snipe fifteen black blooded wolfos had managed to shut up anyone. Even Twilight who knew just what Wild could do once properly motivated had whistled low and patted his protege on the back, praising his skills.

Incidentally, Wild was not currently the source of Time's annoyance, despite (because of) Twilight's inability to reign him in. His quiet pup had woken up miserable, red-eyed and sniffling. Yesterday, Sky had exhibited similar symptoms Thus, their group had extended their stay to allow two of their own to recover. Normally, that would have cause some antsiness in a few of the boys, but Wild had been glued to Twilight's side since the start, and Wind had taken his role as Hyrule's aid very seriously.

Time's lips twitched upward. No, no, he shouldn't be comforted by their good natures at the moment. The two hadn't returned from 'a quick supply run' and the sun was setting.

“Still not back?” Legend asked, fretting (or as close to that as their spike could display).

Four shook his head, scrutinizing the hills around them.

Great. They could ill afford to stay out at night on their own. Stallfos might emerge from the open plains and surround them. Normally, in a situation like this, he'd exchange a look with his pup and the situation would resolve itself at a beastly pace. Not an option, at the moment.

Wild yelped as his slate flashed to life, bringing out the voice of their missing Link. “Guys? Guys, can you hear me?”

At once, they converged on Wild, who fumbled with the slate. Bringing it to eye level, he showed them the image of Wind's and Hyrule's faces smushed together over the glass. Their hair had collected an impressive collection of branches and leaves, to the point where Legend pithily wondered if they were learning how to camouflage.

“Hardy har har,” Wind replied.

Wild ignored them both. “What happened to you guys? And where are you? It's almost night.”

“Well, I was gathering the herbs when I noticed a rare mushroom a bit down the hill, and a couple of helpful flowers, and one thing led to another-”

“We got jumped by river zoras.” Wind grunted. The bruises on his arms weren't bleeding, at least. “Had to make a run for it through the forest.”

Hyrule chuckled nervously. “Did you guys know that it's very easy to get lost in the woods?”

“Yes,” Time and Wild deadpanned in unison.

“Well, we're lost.”

“Sounds like a job for our furry friend,” Legend deadpanned, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. They hadn't seen Wolfie in this world yet, for obvious reasons.

“We can't count on him jumping out of nowhere to find our comrades before night falls.”

“Why not?” Warriors asked, swapping the rag on Sky's face with a cold one. “Wolfie usually shows up when it's convenient for us. I am certain the beast follows us from a distance. It's probably tracking Hyrule as we speak.”

Time prayed to Farore for strength, least he threw his arms in the air and gave up, metaphorically speaking. He just wished his pup worked up the nerves to reveal this one secret. He'd started to suspect that Twilight enjoyed some of the perks of this secrecy a bit too much. None of the others acted as guarded around Wolfie as they did Twilight. They'd accepted the presence of a wild wolf rather easily.

The pup's face when he'd mentioned that had made Time's heart ache.

Time sighed and shook his head. The choice wasn't his.

“You would rather take the chance and leave two of our own alone before night?”

Warriors colored. His gaze sharpened. “Does anyone have a way to locate them quickly?”

Legend shook his head, mumbling something under his breath about having been alone most of the time. Fair in itself, few of them had had adventures in groups. Time's own experience was companion that stuck close to you until the end.

But past that…

Time ruthlessly squashed the bout of nostalgia threatening to return and focused on the present. “Perhaps.”

He gestured for Wild to lend him the slate, and Wild dared not disobey. Even through the screen, the two lost boys cringed at his intense look.

“Hyrule, do you have enough magic for that shapeshifting spell of yours?”

The guilty expression faded in favor of confusion and reluctance. “I… I'd be able to turn into a fairy, yeah, but I can't fly very high if that's what you're thinking. And Wind is stuck on the ground...”

Time shook his head. “That's not why I asked. If you turn into a fairy and stay with Wind, I can find you.”

“Oddly specific,” Legend commented, scanning Time for this ability to find fairies.

“Well, he does lead us to fountains more often than not,” Four replied.

Time passed the slate back to Wild, his hand lingering a second longer on the cub's shoulder. This one's worry was not hidden behind barbs. The scars on his side echoed the ones inside, and without Twilight's reassurance… well, he'd be fine, but not as fine as he could be.

Time bent over his bags and rummaged through for one of the more 'exotic' items he'd found on his quests. Prickling on the back of his neck told him the rests had started staring. Well, Time thought as a mischievous idea got hold of him, at least, they'll have reason to stare.

With his back to them, he hunched over to hide the great silky locks, struggling for a moment with proper adjusting. Then, he whirled around.

A horrified, blood curdling scream exploded out of Warriors' mouth.

The group startled and drew their swords, including Twilight and Sky, who barely could prop themselves up by their elbows. The tense moment lasted only long enough for them to gather up their wits and realize that no, this was still Time despite the horrifying sight.

Warriors was on the ground, his face pale and his hand over his chest as if he'd narrowly avoided a heart attack. “W-w-warn us before you put on monstrosities like that!”

The Great Fairy Mask covered his entire head when Time had been a child, but as an adult, he knew the other heroes could make out his smirk. “But your reactions are half the fun, captain.”

Warriors' energetic cursing flew right over Time's head and the mask's long, flowing pink locks. Pink lights like fireflies started floating by his head, and a tug in his head made him turn Four's way.

“Got a fairy on you?” he asked, voice slightly distorted, almost a woman's suave, lascivious.

More shaken than he'd like to admit, Four nodded quickly.

“Good. Keep it on you. I shouldn't be too long.”

Time adjusted the mask over his head, annoyed by the tightness of the fit, and took off, marching on over the hill like a pink nightmare incarnated. It was thus no surprise that only Legend dared go with him.

***

Hyrule, long since changed back to hylian form, returned to the camp feeling six inches tall. He'd gotten distracted again. Old habits die hard and he had been free through his travels, no maps, never having anyone to wait back for him, and he'd led Wind into an ambush! Not to mention how he made everyone else worry.

“Hyrule, it is good to see you back and unharmed,” Warriors told him with sincere warmth.

Which was why it felt strange for his instincts to scream at him to put some distance between them. “But?”

“But if you ever provoke the old man into putting that mask back on, I will join him on the search. And when we find you, I will skewer you, and then myself on the Master Sword.”

Bonus:

“So, what if it had been Wild instead of Hyrule that had gotten lost?” Legend asked, passing the food around the campfire.

Time swallowed carefully, considering. “Assuming Wolfie wouldn't be around?” Legend nodded, neither him nor anyone else noticing Twilight's fleeting guilt. “I own something else that might have helped.”

Warriors choked. “Beh- wah- excuse me, old man?! You subjected us to that when you had another solution?”

Time's enigmatic air thickened. “The alternative was far worse.” With a theatrical flourish, their stubborn old man of a leader pulled out a pig's face and held it up. “This thing allows the user to picks up a scent trail like they were a hungry pig.”

“Why the hell would you not use that one instead?!” Warriors screamed.

Time savored the bite he had in his mouth, because he doubted his next meal would be as pleasant. However, he simply couldn't help it.

“Because then,” he started, letting his tone verge into a whine, “then my poor nose would be even more assaulted than it is now.”

“HEY!”

Four jumped in the air when Twilight snorted his milk through his nose.

In the end, Time was right. The next meal was a goron spice special that no one managed to finish, besides Wild and Hyrule.

#Linkeduniverse #Linked Universe #LU Time #LU Hyrule #RO:ART

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theavengerfairy · 4 years

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One Step Closer - Chapter 4

Previously known as “Gravity”

Aaravos adored games, especially when those games involved real risks and consequences. Every sparkling fiber of his being would vibrate with excitement as he carefully ushered each pawn into place to create a grand masterpiece that he alone could see unfolding. At times, one of those pawns might start to shift out of alignment, operating of its own accord instead of by the will of its master, but it never took more than a few polished half-truths to lure the insurgent back into place. Patience was the key to success, and if being imprisoned for longer than he cared to calculate had taught him anything, it was patience.

Things may have seemed placid in Viren's cell, but as his grub-like vassal clung to the shell of the mage's ear, Aaravos sensed that the castle was still abuzz even at this late hour. He could feel the reverberations of marching feet through the stone floor and walls, and he could faintly hear the whispering of a gentle wind overtop of Viren's muffled snores. Most importantly, however, he could sense the baleful nip tainting the air as something wicked steadily closed in on the dungeon where it sensed its master's presence.

"It would seem that your phantoms have returned." he crooned smoothly, fully aware that Viren could not hear him from the realm of dreams. "Do not fret. I will take care of everything."

Peeling itself off of Viren's ear, the little caterpillar inched its way across the mage's cot and then up the cell wall until he reached the grate in the ceiling. After wiggling through with ease, it only had to wait a moment or so in the deserted courtyard above before being blanketed in shadow as four pairs of blank, glowing, purple-tinged eyes peered down at it from within towers of churning smoke that vaguely resembled the shape of elves. To anyone else, these creatures of shadow would've been terrifying, but the little caterpillar raised itself up and stared right back at them with an air of haughtiness.

"Your master is resting, but it is not yet time for you to do the same. You still have work to do." Aaravos crooned without a hint of hesitance even though the phantoms could easily trample the caterpillar beneath their heels if they wished too. Why? Even though they could, he knew that they wouldn't, for just like the mage who had summoned them, they were also drawn to the power emanating off of him.

"Your master's possessions have been scattered across the land in an attempt to control him, and one of these relics could be your and his undoing. Bring back the coin in which your leader is imprisoned, the leader who in his pride led you all to your deaths, and you will soon have your rest."

Though their faces showed no expression as the shadows continued to listlessly sway back and forth in the wind, Aaravos could sense their reluctance. It seemed even as phantoms, traces of past loyalties and autonomous thought still lived on inside them; this, however, was not a major problem for him.

"Why do you hesitate? Does it not anger you that the one responsible for your demise now has a chance to return home to the open arms of his family while yours grieve your loss? He made the call to move forward with your mission knowing full well that your chances of survival were slim, and now he simply gets to walk away from that while your blood, the blood of those who trusted him, stains the floors of this palace? Should he not suffer a fate worse than death?"

One by one, a change swept over each ghost, their eyes glowing brighter as their previous uncertainty was burned up by the flames of bitterness; it was a light and a heat that Aaravos never grew tired off as he drank it in again and again.

"Go. Find your leader's coin and its brothers. Justice will not be denied."

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

"Can I skewer him?"

"No."

"What about mildly maim him?"

"No."

"...Can I at least give him a bad enough gash that he'll need stitches?"

"No! The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves by being petty and starting a fight."

"He kidnapped Callum and Maddie!"

"And we are going to discreetly get them back. We fight only as a last resort."

"Ugh, fine!"

It wasn't that Anora couldn't understand Rayla's desire for payback, but retribution never just ended once the scores were even. Having to worry about a vengeful party pursuing them would only further complicate their already complex quest, so for now retaliation, though tempting, was not an option.

It hadn't exactly taken the two elves long to realize that something was wrong, but true to the stories Madeleine had told Anora about Midan, the blacksmith's son indeed proved to be a slippery serpent to catch. Despite managing to procure adequate disguises and sneak into town fairly quickly, Midan was already gone by the time they found the shop and discovered the note that Madeleine had managed to tuck amongst the tools in the back room without getting caught. The fact that they had to ask around about the location of the artisans' fair before finding someone that actually knew only added further to Midan's head start, and while Anora and Rayla probably could have caught up with him if they were on their own, Zym's restlessness meant making occasional stops during their journey, thus allowing the scoundrel to remain one step ahead of them.

By the time they arrived at the fairgrounds, the festivities were already in full swing with more humans crowding around exhibits and mingling between stalls than either elf had seen in her whole life. From this resulted their current situation of hiding in a dense thicket of shrubs not too far off from the line of tents, Rayla keeping watch while Anora attempted to coax Zym into a basket that the younger elf had "borrowed" from the back of an unwatched cart.

"It's only for a little bit, cutie, I promise. Come on! You want another treat?" Grabbing one of the fresh figs from the rations in her bag, Anora placed it inside the basket. "There, now you've got a fig, an apple, some berries, and some milkfruit, a feast fit for a prince. What do ya say, Zym?"

After a moment of thinking as critically as a baby dragon could, Zym tentatively sniffed the mouth of the basket before apparently being won over as he hoped inside with a happy trill. Once she had secured the lid of the basket in place and carefully shrugged the case onto her back, Anora fixed her hood and cloak and stuffed her hands into her gloves, Rayla following suit.

"I still don't see why we can't just split up and meet back here. We'll cover more ground that way." Rayla grumbled as she fiddled with the pink finger of her gloves that had been stuffed with leaves and a twig to mimic a fifth finger. A surprised sputter sprayed from her lips when Anora suddenly appeared in front of her and began smudging dirt over her markings to complete her disguise.

"Midan is smart. If he notices the same two hooded figures frequenting his booth, he might become suspicious, and the longer we're here, the higher our chances of getting caught become. We need to find them, come up with a plan, execute it, and then leave as quickly and quietly as possible." With her and Rayla's tattoos concealed beneath a layer of grime, Anora briskly exited the safety of the shrubs and beckoned Rayla to follow her with a small jerk of her head. "Come on!"

Zym thankfully stayed contently quiet in the basket as the girls crept past the outermost tents and into the fray, heads down and senses alert. After passing several stalls from all of which the heavenly smell of baked goods wafted, it dawned on them that the booths were probably arranged according to trade, meaning they would not have to scour the entire grounds so long as they found the designated area for the blacksmiths. The density of the crowds and the scarcity of maps or directional signs to promote more sales as s wandered aimlessly about ensured that their task remained somewhat difficult, but the smell of burning timber and the ringing of many mallets hammering away at different metals eventually drew them to the right place. As the fourth stall on their left came into view, Rayla was the first to catch a glimpse of those familiar green eyes beneath that mop of fluffy, brown hair, and it didn't take long for them to lock back onto her.

Callum pretended not to notice the two elves until they had crossed over to the stall, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling as he made his way over to the booth's counter as casually as he could. Casting an apprehensive glance back at Midan, who was busy chatting with two reasonably attractive dames at the other end of the stand, he made sure to grab a few odd bits and baubles as he went.

"Hi ladies! What can I help you with?!" he announced quite loudly, depositing the knickknacks onto the counter with a harsh clamor, and to his relief, Midan didn't even spare him a look of disdain. Picking up one of the miscellaneous trinkets scattered in front of him, he held it out as if showing it to the two elves, his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned over the countertop. "I can't talk long without Midan becoming suspicious. Where's Zym?"

Rayla jerked her head toward the basket while Anora took the trinket from Callum and turned it over in her palm. "Are you alright? Where's Maddie?"

"She's in the back and we're both fine other than being a little tired. In fact, she's been tinkering with something since our arrival last night that she believes will distract Midan long enough for us to slip away."

Pride dressed Anora's lips with a lustrous shimmer like the most beautiful of rouges. "Why am I not surprised? Is there anything that we can do to help?"

"There's one more thing that we need but haven't been able to get since we're constantly being watched."

"What do you need?"

"Wildflowers. Lots of 'em."

Rayla's nose wrinkled at the absurd request. "Flowers? What are flowers going to do?"

"He's allergic." Anora muttered, nodding at Midan as theories about Maddie's plan began to take form in her mind. "He obviously can't see us giving them to you."

"Bring them to the back of the tent and toss a rock through the back entrance to let Maddie know that you've made the dropoff. She'll tell you the rest of the plan, and I'll do what I can to keep Midan busy in the meantime."

Rayla groaned under her breath. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Why do you always assume that I'm going to do something stupid?"

"Because you usually do something stupid!"

"You two are cute, but let's save the flirting for a less precarious time, yeah?" Out of the corner of her eye, Anora noticed the two maidens who had been preoccupying Midan's attention were departing, meaning that the louse would be on them in moments if she and Rayla stuck around for too much longer. Setting the trinket that she was still holding back down on the counter, she extended her hand to Callum, who shook it as soon as he realized what she was doing.

"Don't push yourself too hard. You'll need whatever energy you have left for hightailing out of here."

Callum's eyes remained locked with Rayla's until she and Anora were swallowed up by the throng of festival patrons. Gathering up the samples that he had brought out, he spun on his heels and beelined for the curtains separating the front of the tent from the workspace in back. However, just before he could cross the threshold and disappear, he was yanked to a stop by Midan's hand firmly clamping down on his shoulder.

"Don't tell me you spent all that time talking to those two clients and didn't sell anything?"

Callum swallowed thickly to push down the anxious butterflies fluttering in the back of his throat. "They...They said that they had some other errands to run first and would come back if they had the money."

"Let me handle the transaction when they return. I want to make sure that the payment is...authentic given their haggard appearance. Business is going to slow down as the crowds congregate at the indoor attractions to escape the heat of the day, so go wash off and polish those samples. I trust the cleanliness of those bums as much as their money."

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

The sun hung just above the tops of the tents on the far west side of the festival grounds, painting everything with a golden glow.

"Blasted sun. No matter where I stand, it's shining in my eyes." Midan grumbled sourly, shielding his face with his hand as he stumbled about half-blind. "Clem!"

"Um, it's Callum."

"Whatever. Go scrounge around in the back and see if you can find anything to block out that darn sun!"

"Uh, you got it!"

As Callum slipped through the curtains in the back room, Madeleine raised her head from the two small metal tubes sitting in her lap and locked eyes with him. At his nod, she rose, handing him one of the cylinders and held the other to her chest as she left her comrade to gather both their things.

"Midan?" She winced as she poked her head through the doorway right into a particularly bright ray of sunlight.

"Why aren't you working?"

"I'm waiting for the last order to cool down enough so I can polish it." Raising one hand to shield her face while blinking rapidly to quell the tears that welled to defend her eyes from the bright assault, Maddie just barely made out the Midan's silhouette and strode over to him. "I just wanted to talk to you about an idea I had for a new product."

"You're being unusually considerate. You heatsick or something?"

"No. You and I may not like each other, but your dad is still my business partner. He's going to need all the extra cash that he can get for his medical expenses, right?"

"Touché. Tell me what you've got."

"I can do better than that. I built a prototype during my lunch break!" Tucking the braided cord attached to the bottom of the tube beneath her thumb to hide it from sight, Maddie held out the gadget for Midan to see. "I haven't decided on an official name yet, but for now I'm calling them celebration starters!"

Midan squinted at the cylinder. "...It's an embellished pipe."

"Wrong! It's much more than that!"

"Is that so? How does it work then, little genius?"

"Like this!"

Without missing a beat, Madeleine pulled the string attached to the celebration starter as far as it would go and then released it, aiming the barrel directly at Midan's face. Wildflowers of all colors shot into the air with a pop, and the noise was soon followed by three others just like it as more flowers filled the air. The festival-goers all gasped in delight as the fragrant petals rained down on them, but Midan's reddening eyes had bugged out in horror.

"You little-" His exclamation was cut off by a thunderous sneeze, Madeleine springing just beyond the reach of his fingers when he made a mad grab from her.

As much as she would've liked to stick around and relish over her fine work, Maddie speedily vaulted herself over the counter and sprinted into the crowd. Catching a flicker of Callum's scarlet scarf in the evening light somewhere off to her right, she veered off in that direction, focusing all of her strength into her legs until she had caught up with him, and together they ran towards the chosen meeting place: the eastern entrance of the grounds. Their feet had already begun to burn like they were running over a bed of hot coals by the time the pillars decorated with many colorful banners and other ornaments rose into few, and just as they flung themselves down at the base of the one columns in order to catch their breath, Anora and Rayla burst forth from the sea of people, panting heavily as they refused to slow even slightly.

"Get up! We gotta go!" the latter shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Before Callum could ask what was wrong, the crowd parted for a portly man with a crimson face marred by an angry scowl as he charged after the two elves with his son and daughter flanking him.

"Thieves! Thieves!" he bellowed.

Anora grabbed Callum and Maddie by their arms and more or less dragged them to their feet while Rayla continued to run, her fist pressed against her chest as something glittered inside. The prince's mouth hung agape, his eyes darting from his friends to their pursuers.

"What did you guys do?!"

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

Moments earlier...

It was a beautiful sight that Anora would've liked to enjoy, the flower petals dancing through the air like snow after being launched from Madeleine's invention, but she and Rayla dutifully slipped the now empty gadgets into their belts and ducked behind a wall of stalls. Keeping their heads down and bodies low to the ground, they zipped along their predetermined course completely unnoticed aside from catching the attention of the occasional small child who was quickly shushed by a preoccupied parent, and the steady sinking of the sun created many long shadows that stretched out to offer them additional cover. However, it soon became apparent that they had forgotten to consider one particular detail when it came to their seemingly seamless plan: Zym.

Having been startled out of a deep nap by the loud pops of the celebration starters, Zym clawed quite furiously at the lid of the basket, and with a few good swipes, he managed to tear a hole just large enough for him to wiggle out of. His little feet scarcely touched Anora's back before he unfurled his wings and sprang into the air, giving neither elf much time to react as he glided through the air and scampered through the back entryway of a large, deep indigo tent as soon as he touched the ground.

When their minds finally processed what had just happened, Rayla and Anora dug their heels into the dirt and swerved in the direction of the tent, halting just a few inches shy of the opening in the wall of cloth.

"Zym! Come back here! You can't be in there!" Rayla called as she peered into the darkness, searching for any sign of white down or icy blue scales that should've stuck out like a sore thumb against the shadows of the tent. All she was met with was a soft, anxious whine from the dragonling, the origin of which she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I don't think he's coming out on his own," Anora muttered, sliding the basket off of her back. Taking the lavender scarf that hung around her waist and laying it out flat on the ground, she placed the busted lid on top of it and wrapped it in the soft but fairly sturdy material, tightly tying the ends to ensure that it didn't come loose. Tucking the lid under her arm, she handed the barrel of the basket to Rayla. "I'll try herding him back towards you, but you'll need to be completely silent if we don't want him to bolt. Think you can do that, Moondrop?"

"...You're kidding, right?"

"I know, I know. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Hearts hammering against their ribs, they slunk into the belly of the pavilion, their soft, careful footsteps sounding more like the stomping of elephants to their own ears. When their eyes adjusted to the dimness, they found that the inside was mostly filled with an array of colorful tapestries decorated with what had to be the most degrading depictions of different kinds of elves that either girl had ever seen. Towards the center of the room stood three ornately carved, wooden pedestals topped with soft pillows, and above each one hung a series of banners that could just barely be read from where they stood if they squinted.

"...Haunted Coins from Xadia?" Rayla scoffed with blatant disgust, "Are you serious?! We don't even have haunted coins! Who would actually believe this nonsense?!"

"You'd be surprised," Anora remarked absent-mindedly, having already dismissed the laughable exhibit and resumed her scouring for the baby dragon. As soon as she noticed a pale shape crouching behind the base of pillar closest to them, she pointed it out to Rayla followed by drawing two arcs in the air that eventually met at a point in front of her. Rayla immediately understood and began to close in on the pillar from the left while Anora took to the right.

"Zym," she called when she was close enough to see the tip of the dragonling's nose poking out from behind the pillar. "I know you're a bit spooked right now, but we have to go before we get caught. There will be no more loud, scary noises, I promise."

Zym's answer was a shrill, suspicious yip, nostrils flaring slightly when Anora entered his line of sight. Slowly dropping down into a crouch, the elf held her hand out to him as she inched closer, not daring to glance at Rayla to ensure she was ready and risk Zym realizing what they were up to. Fortunately, Zym's attention remained fixated on Anora as he shuffled his feet uncertainly while Rayla tiptoed up behind him, basket held out in front of her. They had him cornered, and when Anora lunged forward, Zym spun on his heels and fled straight towards the mouth of the basket. At the last moment, however, he spread his wings and splayed out his little limbs, his front claws grabbing onto the rim, and using the edge as a foothold, he propelled himself upward at a slight angle. Anora leaped into the air before he could get very high, wrapping her arms around the prince's middle and pulling him to her chest. Unfortunately, she hadn't paid much thought to her trajectory in her haste, and thus she came crashing down on top of the pedestal, which proved to be much flimsier than it looked as it crumbled beneath her weight.

"Yep, that's definitely going to leave a mark." she groaned, rolling onto her side and then up into a sitting position all while Zym flailed in her arms. Rayla was by her side in the blink of an eye where she held the basket steady so Anora could place Zym inside.

"He's a little fighter; I suppose that's a good thing though." the Oceancry elf remarked as she secured the lid once more and slipped her arm through one of the vessel's straps, hoisting it up onto her back again. Shifting onto her knees so she could stand back up, she jerked to a stop when something resting on the bed of splinters beneath her snagged her eye.

"Rayla...you said Xadia doesn't have any haunted coins, right? Then why does that one have a moving face on it?"

"You mean your reflection? Besides, that isn't even a Xadian coin..."

"Rayla?"

The color drained from Rayla's already pale face and her eyes widened to the size of two full moons as she stooped down, unable to believe what she saw. Staring back at her was a face she knew all too well despite being clouded with a fear that she had never seen adorning those features before, and as she gently scooped the coin into her trembling hand, she watched the terror melt away and sheer relief rise up in its place.

"Runaan..." she whimpered, hand clamped over her mouth as she fought back the urge to break into tears. Suddenly, it felt very hard to breathe, as if the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her lungs. "...how did you...what...who did this to you?"

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

Anora's head snapped up to behold a middle-aged man and four children of varying maturities looming in the main entrance of the tent. The man, obviously the owner of the tent, glared at them with two small, beady eyes that peered out from behind bushy brown brows and bulging cheeks, grinding his feet into the dirt as he prepared to charge. Snatching up the pillow from the remains of the pedestal, she hurled it at the man, nailing him in the face.

"Rayla, run!"

With their father momentarily disoriented, the two eldest children, a boy and a girl, rushed at them. Glancing upwards, Anora noticed how the weight of the numerous tapestries was causing the roof of the tent to sag, so she grabbed the closest one and yanked it as hard as she could. This proved to be just enough strain as the center of the tent caved inward, cutting them off from their assailants. Brought back to her wits by Anora's shout, the commotion, or a combination of the two, Rayla closed her fist tightly around the coin and barreled back out into the open with Anora close behind her.

#tdp #THE DRAGON PRINCE #tdp oc #tdp fanfic #tdp fanfiction #tdp runaan #runaan #runaan x oc #tdp callum #tdp rayla #tdp zym #tdp aaravos #Runaan

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lady-byleth · 6 years

Text

Title: New Beginnings

Fandom: Tales of Vesperia

Setting: Post-game, like right after

Ships: Fluri (main)/Ristelle (side)

Rating: Gen

Summary: So much had already changed. Maybe one more change wouldn’t be so bad.

Link

By the time they made it to Zaphias, the decision to avoid Halure and it's too small inn going unspoken but understood by all, the sun was already peeking over the edge of the world. The city, however, was far from asleep.

Apparently celebrating the giant monster in the sky disappearing held more appeal than worrying over the sudden lack of running water and electricity, so the citizens had taken to the streets and thrown an impromptu festival that spanned all quarters at once. Some restaurants had even gone through the effort to put up stands, handing out food for free to anyone who asked.

Yuri had to sidestep more than one drunken noble as he wove his way through the crowd at the head of his small group of world savers and hip checked more than one into the nearest source of water to sober them up.

The smell of food made him nauseas though he was sure Patty would have jumped at the opportunity to eat a skewer or ten had she not been fast asleep with her head resting against his shoulder blade. Her big hat was safely tucked under Flynn's arm and her ruffled braids tickled against Yuri's skin with every step.

The poor thing had fallen asleep on her feet, almost walking straight into a rose bush had Rita not flung out her sash and caught Patty around the waist before it was too late. How exactly Rita had managed to move so fast when Yuri could barely follow the movement of his own feet against the cobblestone was a mystery he didn't have the energy to solve right now.

He was too damn tired. They all were.

Saving the world took a lot out of a person, especially when you had to fight your way through an army of monsters that had taken over the city of an ancient civilization floating over the ruins of a much younger city, while fully aware a crazy strong war hero was waiting for you at the end. And then you had to fight that war hero, simultaneously try to make him see reason and that was before the Fell Arms decided to fuck with you.

Yuri sighed and then yawned, losing his train of thought. Where had he been going with this again? Damn, he was so tired. His brain felt like jelly.

No, his everything felt like jelly. Maybe he was jelly now? Did channelling insane amounts of Mana turn you to jelly? If so, he hoped he wasn't apple flavoured. Pineapple was sweeter. He liked sweets.

“Yuri.” Flynn's voice startled him out of his disjointed thoughts badly enough he almost dropped Patty. She didn't seem to notice, only grumbling something about “scallops” and “sea devils” before falling silent again.

“Huh?” he answered intelligently, looking over Patty's blonde head to where Flynn was standing, pointing at the...oh. He had walked straight past the castle entrance. “Ah.”

Heaving another sigh that turned into a yawn he spun around too fast, stopped for a second so the world could stop spinning too, grabbed Karol by the collar so he wouldn't walk straight past the group as well and led the way up to where Flynn was waiting for them in the open door.

Leblanc and the Tweedles held it open until all nine of them had made it inside and then slowly closed it, their curious eyes boring into Yuri's back so intensely he was surprised Patty hadn't caught fire yet.

Raven broke the exhausted silence with a sound that was half yawn and half groan and all exactly what Yuri was feeling. “I think I'm actually gonna sleep in a bed this time around,” he mumbled, abandoning his affectations of ditzy dumbass in favour of a more Schwann like manner of speaking.

Beside him Rita huffed. “I think the old man broke.”

Yuri wasn't sure where Estelle and Judith got the energy to chuckle from but wherever that was, Yuri didn't have it. He just smiled, adjusted his grip on Patty's legs a little and turned to face the group. If only the room would stop spinning...

“Everyone remember where their guest room was?” he asked, somehow sounding far more put together than he felt.

“Oh!” Estelle gasped as the others nodded, looking absolutely crestfallen. “I don't remember!”

Judith put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Estelle, you live here,” she said, squeezing gently.

Estelle flushed an interesting shade of red that contrasted horribly with her pink her. “Oh,” she said again. “Yes, of course.”

Karol yawned so loud he almost fell over.

Yuri shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. “I think that's our cue,” he said. “Everyone, off to bed. I don't want to see any of you up before lunch. Now shoo.”

No one complained about his tone, not even perpetually grumpy Rita who just grabbed the hem of Estelle's dress and let herself be pulled along. Judith waved rather gracelessly and trudged off with Karol who pulled a groaning Raven along. Raven for his part attempted to swat Repede away, not realizing the dog was the only thing that was keeping him from running into a wall.

Yuri watched them go, shaking his head fondly, before he took another hallway that would lead him straight to Patty's designated guest room. He wasn't surprised to feel Flynn fall into step beside him, hovering close in case Yuri needed help with their little pirate queen.

The help was appreciated when they finally arrived at Patty's room. Flynn opened the door for them, put Patty's hat down on the dresser and pulled back the covers, helping to carefully lower her onto the mattress. She didn't move once as Yuri tugged off her boots and removed her gear and only gave any indication of life when Flynn tucked her in. She murmured contently, snuggling into her pillow, and dreamed on, oblivious.

Yuri sighed and stretched his back. Small as she was, she was practically made of muscles and thus much heavier than she appeared. He was gonna have a crick in his neck tomorrow...later...whatever.

But at least that was one down. Only a few more to go.

“You can go ahead,” he said when he closed the door, keeping his voice low just in case. “I'm gonna check on the others too.”

Flynn chuckled. “I figured as much,” he said, some emotion dancing in his eyes that made Yuri's throat burn. “I'll come with you.”

He shrugged, looking away. “Suit yourself.”

Next up was Karol and Yuri thanked the high heavens his room was an empty knight room like Patty's and thus as single. He could already hear the kid sawing logs a few doors away and when he stepped inside Karol lay spread eagle on top of the covers, legs dangling over the edge and mouth open so wide a bit of saliva had already made its way down his cheek.

Yuri shook his head fondly. “Sheesh,” he mumbled, feeling more than hearing Flynn's laughter beside him.

Karol, despite being younger – in more ways than one – than Patty, was both bigger and heavier than her, so Yuri was silently grateful Flynn had decided to come along. Otherwise he would have probably dropped the poor kid on his head trying to shift him under the blanket, though that might have done quick work of the horrible snoring.

At least Karol had managed to store away his weapon and gear before falling into his light coma, which couldn't be said of Judith, who had landed face down on her own bed and stayed there.

She had apparently decided getting ready for bed was too much effort and simply dropped her spear by the door, effectively setting a trap Yuri would have broke his neck on had Flynn not caught his arm.

What a way to go that would have been, surviving an abomination of global size only to whack his head on a dresser because Judith couldn't be bothered to put her weapon into a damn corner.

Yuri thrust the weapon at Flynn, who was hovering uncomfortably in the doorway because...girl, and made quick work of Judith's shoes and the knife on her thigh. He also pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing full well how badly her scalp would hurt upon waking if he left them in. First hand experience. He still blamed Flynn for that one.

Raven had somehow managed to wrap himself so tightly into his blanket Yuri wasn't even sure the old man was breathing any more but at least he had removed his shoes before doing so so Yuri simply gathered up the scattered bow and knife and put them on the dresser before leaving again. He wanted to be far away by the time Raven started snoring too. Karol may be loud but Raven always sounded like he was chocking on something and it was beyond annoying on a good day.

Repede, who had at some point rejoined them, though Yuri had absolutely no idea when that was, snorted at the closed door, his eye critical. “I feel ya, buddy,” Yuri said, patting his head.

Flynn nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

Not quite up for banter Yuri simply threw Flynn a teasing look, relying on that something between them that made conversation without words so easy to translate his meaning.

Flynn stuck out his tongue. “I'm off duty, I can say whatever I want right now.”

“Very mature, Commandant,” Yuri said, rolling his eyes. They were walking. When had that happened?

Flynn winced. “Why does it sound like an insult when you say that?”

“Dunno, maybe because it is?”

“I could have you thrown in jail for that.”

“But you wouldn't do that.”

“Are you sure?”

He was but instead of saying so he just smirked, elbowing Flynn lightly. The clang of elbow against armour echoed through the empty halls before settling into silence.

It felt good, being stupid like this. Without the threat of the apocalypse hanging over their heads, without a friend that needed saving and hordes of monsters hounding their steps. Even when he was this bone-tired, he felt strangely light having Flynn by his side, steps unhurried, voice light and joking.

When was the last time they had just...been? He couldn't even really remember. The soft looks Flynn shot him when he thought Yuri wasn't looking were proof enough that he felt it too. That peace settling in.

Before he realized how far they had walked they arrived at Estelle's room, the white door as out of place as the first time he was here. He opened it as quietly as he could, not surprised to find Estelle and Rita curled up into a ball, so close one half of the bed was empty.

“Huh,” Flynn murmured. “That's new...”

“Nah, Ristelle being Ristelle,” Yuri said with a shrug, sending Flynn over to Rita's side so he could relieve her of the heavy tome wedged between her hip and the mattress. Estelle had somehow managed to fall asleep on top of her boots, while Rita's goggles had slipped half over her face. Untangling the girls to get their gear off was almost as complicated as wrestling an eggbear, simply because they both refused to let go even in their sleep. In the end they had to leave the now useless bodhi blastia where they were or risk waking them. And Yuri was not in the mood to be fire balled again.

A big pile of small objects Yuri was too tired to identify had formed on the desk, all pulled from the too many pockets of Rita's clothes.

Flynn disappeared down the hall for a second, signalling Yuri to wait, and returned with a spare blanket from what was probably a supply closet. Together they spread it over princess and mage, tucking them in until only tufts of pink and auburn hair were left visible.

Repede curled up at the foot of the bed, yawning widely, and pointedly closed his eye. How, Yuri didn't know, but he had a feeling Repede was telling them to get lost and so they did.

Or rather, they tried to. As soon as Yuri pulled the door closed behind them, something changed. Not the hall, it was as quiet as before, nothing quite so obvious. It was more as if the air itself had suddenly shifted and it left Yuri reeling.

It was hard to look at Flynn, but even harder to move away. The last time this had happened Yuri had been twelve, soaking wet from a fall into the fountain, and had just been punched in the gut by the realization that he had fallen in love with his best friend somewhere along the way.

Except now he was nine years older, several brushes with death and one staved off apocalypse wiser and on better terms with Flynn than ever before. So why was it so hard to just be normal right now?

Yuri would have liked to ram his head against the wall until he passed out but Flynn was right there and probably not tired enough to let that one go. He would have to be dead to let it go and even then Yuri wasn't sure he would.

He sighed at the same time Flynn did and the tension popped like a soap bubble, falling away with snorts of laughter and shaking heads. They both knew, had known for years what they could never say, so why were they getting all worked up over this?

“This is dumb,” Yuri said, still grinning. Flynn was smiling as well, eyes glowing. Yuri had heard the girls in the lower quarter compare them to the sky before but that was ridiculous. The sky paled in comparison.

“We are dumb, you mean,” Flynn said, running a hand through his hair.

Yuri snorted. “That too, yeah.”

They had known. For years. It had always been an unspoken but open secret.

And still Yuri hesitated when Flynn held out his hand, a hopeful and encouraging glint in his eyes.

So much had changed in so short a time. Not just the empire and the world as a whole, but they had as well. Since Mantaic, Nordopolica, Aurnion...especially Aurnion.

Their duel had been the first time in ages they had both been completely honest, with each other and themselves. As Flynn had put it, something was different now than it had been before. Something inexplicable, but also so very obvious.

They were different, as much as Yuri refused to admit he had changed. There was no way someone could make the journey he had and not come out the other side a different person.

Yuri and Flynn both had...matured in a way, but also found that spark again they had lost when their friendship had taken a bad turn. They were more now, individually and as a unit.

It was strange, but also familiar. Yuri took a deep breath, eyes glued to the hand Flynn still offered. Patient. Hopeful.

So much had already changed. Maybe one more change wouldn't be so bad.

He had barely finished the thought before his hand moved, fitting palm against palm, fingers weaving together. A shiver ran through Flynn, so soft it was invisible to the naked eye but Yuri could feel it reverberating through him and into his own skin.

He let Flynn tug him closer until their sides brushed, and was hit by the realization that they hadn't really touched in years and how much he'd starved for it.

Just as he'd starved for this first kiss.

Flynn moved without thought, letting instinct guide him the way it always did when Yuri was involved, as he finally brushed their lips together after wanting it for so long.

It was not like the flowery novels Lady Estellise so loved, there were no metaphorical fireworks, no sudden wave of emotion. It was nothing so grand that poets would continue to speak of it for centuries to come.

Instead it was like the final piece of an intricate puzzle finally slipping seamlessly into place, the last stroke of a brush that gave the whole painting meaning...it was a conclusion and a beginning all at once, taking something that had always been good, what they had been for so long, and made it better.

Flynn knew that this wouldn't change them any more than their struggles already had. These unspoken feelings between them had always been there, boiling underneath the surface, but they had not been all they shared.

Theirs was a friendship built on trust, respect, understanding, of almost an entire life of shared hardships and happiness. This would not change that.

When he finally pulled away the world was unchanged and yet completely new, because Yuri's smile was finally free and soft the way it was whenever he thought no one was watching. But now Flynn was watching and still Yuri didn't hide, his storm cloud eyes bright with emotions that made Flynn's heart trip.

Yuri's fingers squeezed Flynn's, the other hand rose to brush blond hair away from blue eyes.

No, this wouldn't change them. They had just cast off the hesitation that had bound them for so long and were finally free to be what they should have been for years.

Together.

A wide yawn from Yuri lightened the mood, but did not break it, and Flynn chuckled fondly, rubbing his thumb lightly over Yuri's knuckles.

“Let's get some rest,” he said gently. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

Yuri nodded, letting himself be guided along the marble floors to Flynn's room. “Sounds good.”

#tales of vesperia #tales of vesperia spoilers #yuri lowell #flynn scifo #fluri #ristelle #karol capel #patty fleur #raven tov #Judith tov #estellise sidos heurassein #rita mordio #repede

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blueskies-and-applepies-blog · 6 years

Text

A Big Rock Star

Read it here on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512785

Once upon a time, Dean wanted to be a rockstar. His whole life, really, the fantasy persisted.

Six years old, running around the house, banging on pots and pans like he thought he was a mini Neil Peart. Making Sam put on mock concerts with him while he tried his best to yell along to the Zeppelin tracks he’d already started learning by heart.

As soon as he could get his hands on them, he started picking up magazines anywhere he could find them, plastering his walls with pictures of all the bands he loves and looks up to. Some days, when the fighting got to loud, he’d lay in bed for hours and stair up at his walls, staring at their faces and thinking of everything they had that he didn’t. Fame, money, girls. That was the end game for Dean.

Mom thought it was cute. Dad did, too, at first.

When he got older, it was less the fame that attracted Dean to the idea; more the money then. He liked the idea of making enough money to find some way to get them away- him and Mom and Sam, to someplace far away. Set them up in a house on a beach, somewhere warm and friendly. Some place where Dad wouldn’t even go looking for them.

And then life hit.

At least, it felt like a hit. Like a series of punches and kicks that left Dean feeling like someone had dumped him out the back of a van and left him bruised and bloody on the side of the road.

The fire came first. Losing Mom and home in one fell swoop... that was a fucking bitch if anything ever was.

Moving from place to place didn’t help at all either. Dad would dump them off in a hotel room for couple of weeks at a time while he went out looking for work. Most of the time they spent in the car, no more walls to host the posters of the men Dean so idolized.

Still, the fantasy lived on. Money more than ever on the front of his mind, every time Dad went out without leaving any bills on the table and Dean had to figure out some way to afford cereal to keep Sammy fed. Fame? Hell, why not. He sure wouldn’t mind someone looking at him like he was anything other than a useless piece of shit. The girls? Well…

Lately had been finding that the girls at school(s) weren’t really doing it for him anymore. He figured it wasn’t a big deal, maybe his tastes were skewering a little older now that he’d matured some. Maybe it was just high school girls that he couldn't get it up for. So he started hanging out around bars, trying to pick up more more mature ladies.

And sometimes, sure, he noticed that there might be a guy or two who caught his attention at the bar. But, that was normal. At least, he figured. A lot of the time, he had a hard time figuring out if he wanted to emulate them, or... something else. But he spent half the time with a hard dick cramping his jean space, so who the fuck knew.

It all started to go real belly-up sometime around he was twenty-three. That was right after Sammy up and left for school, when he decided that he couldn’t put up with being around Dean’s pathetic, mopey ass anymore. Dean couldn’t much blame him.

Dad wasn’t around too much after that either. Without Sam to share the impact, he got pretty bored of ragging on Dean all the time. And Dean was happy to be rid of him, though he scarcely even dared admit that to himself. Truth was Dean was pretty scared at the idea of spending time alone with the old man.

There was… an incident, which led to a... well. And after that Dad made it clear just what kind of person he wasn’t gonna have for a fucking son.

So he tried harder. Dean went out and tried to pick up girls. If he could just find one he liked, one who could get his dick hard enough, then it’d all be okay. If he could find one, then he wasn’t like that.

One got pregnant. Her name was Lisa. She was a few years older, and she was definitely a fucking babe, Dean knew that for sure. They banged in the bathroom of some sleazy biker bar and Dean didn’t even remember giving her his number, but then she called and she told him she was knocked up and she was pretty sure it was his.

Pretty sure wasn't really enough for Dean, but it was for Dad. John leveled him with a mean look when Dean tried to go to him for advice (dumb fuckin' idea that was). He said that a real man would step and do the right thing, and he wanted to know exactly what kind of man Dean thought he was.

It was kind of funny, how his dad was so happy after they got hitched. It was probably because he never thought he’d have to worry about finding his son again with his dick in one hand and a picture of Jimi Hendrix in the other.

And he wouldn’t, Dean was fucking sure of that. He might not know how to be the perfect husband, but he was gonna fucking try. It wasn’t Lisa’s fault she ended up strapped to him 'til death do them part, and she shouldn't have to suffer for it.

It only lasted a couple of years. Before Ben’s eighth birthday they’d already split up, and he took off for the road like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Hell, it was the only thing he knew how to do.

He picked up odd jobs all over. Most nights he spent in the same shit hotels he’d hated in his teenage years. Always shared a parking lot with some tragic dive bar, only now it was him instead of his dad who sat at the bar pounding Heinekens all night. Normally, the bar would have the promise of live music, some sad assembly of dads who looked like they worked day jobs as plumbers and electricians, and then came right here to the bat to live out their deflated fantasies of making it big. Their wives cheer from the dance floor like a bunch of horned-up teenagers. Dean scoffed and turned away from it. If he stared too long, it made him feel sick.

Every day he woke up with a new hangover, he felt himself becoming more like his old man. He told himself that's not his worst nightmare, but he still ended up hurling into the toilet anyway. Who was he trying to kid.

When he was lucky, he'd get a phone call from Sammy, and that was enough to cheer him up for a week at a time. Dean would do his best to put on a happy voice and make it sound like his life's a fucking breeze. He'd say he's got good work and the new place is like home and he'd always say that he'd just seen Ben.

He almost never saw his kid, actually, and he knew it was all his own fault. If he could get his shit together for not enough to not be ashamed in front of Ben... He told himself that it would be soon, and said the same to Lisa, and he kept hoping that 'soon' would come one day.

His nights were still spent in bars, but now he hit on younger ladies. He spent more time than effort trying to weasel his way into girls' panties, with his success ratio staying more about at a solid 50-50. And maybe, sometimes, he went for the girls he knew would say no. It made it easier. Then he could go home alone and think of whoever he wanted when he blew his load into some already-crusty motel room sheet.

He'd kill to have a home again.

One time, when he was driving around the streets of some podunk middle-of-nowhere town, he was lying in the backseat of Baby, trying to get a little shut-eye, when he saw her. She was sitting there in a shop window, a little beat-up with a few scratches, but no worse for the wear. Dean scrounged up the tiny bit of money he had lying around that he didn't have to send back to Lisa, and he walked right into that pawn shop, and he bought his first guitar.

He spent forever trying to think of the right name for her. Something good, solid, but nothing to make Baby jealous. In the end, he couldn't think of anything, so he told himself he'd come back to it later, when he'd made enough progress to merit it. He sat in the back seat and tinkered around, trying to figure out which string made which notes, and how to turn them into chords to make a song. That was the day that Dean figured out that for all the watching and listening and obsessing he'd done, he didn't have the first fucking clue how guitars actually worked.

He didn't get a chance to pick out a name before she was gone. It killed him when he had to hock her again. But he'd lost another job and he was running out of cash for places to stay. Plus, Lis had called and said that Ben wanted to start playing soccer. Dean may not have had the opportunity to pursue what he wanted growing up, but he'd be damned if his kid was gonna have to go through that same thing.

So thus began a cycle that ran for years. It was like a bad relationship, on-again, off-again. Some real Ross and Rachel crap. Whenever he had they money laying around he'd go buy a guitar- not the same one as before, but whatever one he found that he could afford- and then when funds ran low again he'd sell it to pay for food, for beer, to lend Sam some money or buy something for Ben.

He never kept one long enough to really learn anything, which was fucking frustrating. Sometimes he didn't know why he bothered anyways. The older he got, the sadder the whole endeavor seemed. What, was he going to do, get discovered? Become a some big shot rock star at thirty, thirty-five years old?

It was pathetic, and about a million degrees out of his league. He was a high school dropout that couldn't even hold a steady job for a couple of months. Even if he could have, at some point in his miserable life, had any talent- he didn't deserve it.

At a certain point, he would have just been happy to have someone look at him, look him in the eyes. Someone to notice him. And god damn if a little spooning wouldn't be nice.

He spent a lot of long, lonely nights wondering why he ever left Ben and Lisa. Why he couldn't have just stuck it out, pretended to be happy. It'd be better than this useless existence. Better than shuffling from barstool to barstool, looking for something to make it all matter. To make anything matter.

He also never kept any one guitar long enough to get attached to it. Which was pretty much the same along the board with most things in his life.

But things were different now.

Now... well, damn. Now he was one of those old dads he was making fun of back in his twenties.

It was all Cas' fault. He's the one who swept in out of god damn nowhere and made things so... so easy. Things were so easy with Cas. They were so easy that it made Dean look back and see how difficult he'd been making things for no reason at all.

"You want to learn to play guitar?" Cas asked one day after he'd been listening to Dean lament the fact that he was completely useless with a musical instrument. "We'll sign you up for lessons."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, guitar lessons. I'll go after school. C'mon. What am I, fourteen? "

"No, you're forty," Cas turned on him with a scold, "And you've got a head thick enough to prove it."

After that, Cas implied that if Dean wasn't going to even consider it, then there would be a sharp decrease in a certain Thursday night activity that Dean spent all week looking forward to.

So, Dean started taking guitar lessons. And, somewhat unexpectedly, he got good.

Twenty years he'd been whining about the fact that he'd never gotten to live out his musical fantasies, and all he had to do was go see a scrawny kid in a strip mall once a week. Go figure.

But that was exactly it. Cas always knew exactly how to fix all of his problems. Dean would spend hours, day complaining about some bullshit- big or small, it didn't matter. Then Cas would come in with his big brain and his grown up attitude, and everything was just.... better.

Dean had a stomach ache? "Drink some water. There are other beverages besides whiskey and coffee, you know."

A problem with a co-worker? "Talk to Rufus about it. That's his job- they didn't hire a supervisor for no reason."

Couldn't open a jar? "Smack it with a knife. And stop pouting."

He always cut right through the bullshit. He told Dean what was what, what to do. And Dean loved it. Loved him.

He'd thought for a long time that he lived his life the way he did because he liked the independence, craved the open road with no attachments. Turns out he was wrong. He just hadn't found the right person who wanted to stick around and tell his dumb ass what to do. Tell him how to be happy.

But Cas didn't only put Dean in his place. Nah, if that was all it was, it would probably be a little too close to home (literally) for Dean not to think he just ended up with another version of his dad in some twisted Oedipal complex thing.

Cas could be real soft when he wanted to be; which he did, a lot. He liked to whisper soft praises into Dean's hair while he fell asleep; liked to hold his hands and kiss his knuckles when they were bruised from a long day on the job; liked to smile and compliment him to their friends like he hung the damn moon and built a ladder to the stars. Dean pretended to hate the attention- but, well if he was a shit guitar player, he was a much worse actor.

Yeah, shit was pretty good with Cas around. He and Dean even cleaned up their act and got a little place together. A house. Dean had a house- his first once since Sometimes he thought back to those dirty motel dumps and the nights spent sleeping roadside in his car. He really, truly, couldn't believe his luck.

It had a little backyard where they had their friends over for beer and burgers and where Dean swore one day he was gonna set up a karaoke machine just to piss Cas off (and maybe, sometimes, he would do that version of "I'm Too Sexy" that makes Cas laugh in a way that Dean could listen to for the rest of his life on repeat without getting tired of it).

Ben came to visit in the summer and on school vacations. Next month, Dean was going teach him how to drive. Take him out onto a dirt road and put him behind the wheel of his Baby. He could already feel the uncontainable pride bubbling up behind his throat. It wasn't unlike the feeling that sat in his gut when he saw the way Cas and Ben got on like a pair of freaking gangbusters. Or Cas and Sam. Or Cas and pretty much anyone on the very short list on people that Dean gave a damn about.

His dad wasn't on that list. In fact, wherever his dad was, Dean didn't have a clue. And he really didn't intend to spend a second's energy thinking about it.

All his energy now was pretty much reserved for one guy. Dean figured, Cas had single-handedly turned him from a pathetic sad sack into somebody who liked to wake up in the morning. That in itself was a damn miracle. So Dean resolved to try and pay back as much as he could.

Mostly, that meant mowing the lawn and semi-regular blowjobs. Dean had no complaints about that particular arrangement.

So there he was: on the wrong side of forty, strapped down in suburbia... and he couldn't be happier. And to top it all off: he was in a band. With a bunch of dads.

Fate sure was one funny fuckin' lady.

They played the Roadhouse a couple times a month. It was the same crowd of regulars, but they people seemed pretty happy with what they did. Dean had a blast playing with the guys, and it felt good to be up on stage. It was different than he'd been imagining for the past forty years... but at least he knew for himself was the reality felt like. Which was worth about a thousand times as much as some low-rent fantasy.

Especially when it included Cas looking up at him from the dance floor, every single time, without fail. Cheering for Dean with a smile on his face, shouting like a horned up teenager.

#dean winchster #castiel #destiel #fanfic #spn #supernatural #under 3000 words #fluff #angst #john winchester a+ parenting

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alixofagnia · 7 years

Text

Get to know your fellow Reylos meme

This will be fun! Thanks for the tag @emperorren.

Answer these 10 Star Wars related questions, reblog and tag your favorite Reylo blogs to join in!

1) Who is your favorite Star Wars character of the new trilogy (excluding Rey and Kylo)?

Wow, that is so unfair because Rey and Kylo are truly my favorites from the ST so far.

Since TLJ came out, I would say Holdo. I love how she was introduced: you didn’t quite know what her deal was (or if that was all just in Poe’s head), but you gradually understood that there was way more to her than met the eye. Some people think she was a wasted character ��because apparently showing up for the first time and then dying in the same movie amounts to a wasted, pointless character (Qui-Gon, hello, is that you? Rogue One squadron, are you there?). But I saw TLJ four times in the theater and every single time people literally gasped into the silence of Holdo’s death.

So, yeah, fuck off.

2) What is/are your favorite quote(s) from a Star Wars movie?

The OT movies were my “stay-home-sick” movies when I was a kid – I played the shit out of those VHS tapes, let me tell you. So, there are a lot of quotes from the OT that are just kind of pure nostalgia for me. I’m not a huge fan of the PT and since dialogue is one issue I take with them, I hardly ever quote them except to mock “she’s lost the will to live” because I find that line so problematic, and I just hate it.

It hasn’t been until the ST that certain lines of dialogue have actually resonated with me, probably because I’m seeing them as an adult. There are a lot of terrific quotes from TLJ, but I gotta let them stew a bit longer. So the two I picked are from TFA:

Maz Kanata: The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead. I am no Jedi, but I know the Force. It moves through and surrounds every living thing. Close your eyes. Feel it… The light… it’s always been there. It will guide you.

My liking this quote probably has a lot to do with Lupita N’yongo’s lovely voice and line delivery, because I remember tearing up in the theater when she started talking about the Force, and I swear to you I was not high. I just think it’s so beautifully spiritual, and when you put it into context with Rey’s journey and Kylo’s journey, or any SW character’s journey, really, it carries this deeply profound message of hope and faith.

The entire bridge scene dialogue, but mostly the moment when Han touches his son’s face:

I know it’s not a quote, but so much is contained in that single gesture.

It wasn’t shock at Han’s skewering that made my breath catch and bring a tear to my eye. It was the utterly heartbreaking grace of his final action. It’s such an unexpectedly visceral reaction and, actually, far more profound than I previously believed Han Solo capable of since he was largely a one-note character over the course of his SW career. This moment has taken on much more depth and meaning since TLJ’s release, in terms of Ben Solo’s arc, and I think it will continue to do so after Episode IX.

3) Do you think Kylo/Ben will survive Episode IX?

I have a lot of thoughts about this. Well, mostly just one.

YES.

As is obvious, Kylo Ren is one of my favorite new characters. That has nothing to do with Adam Driver, whom I had never watched before, and nothing to do with what I knew about the character, which was zero. [Srsly, I was in such an ‘I heart SW’ bubble for TFA that I did not even think about, let alone suspect, his heritage until literally the moment he was talking to Vader’s helmet.].

No, it has everything to do, instead, with the complex villain story-line and Byronic heroes. I love complex villainy. I adore Byronic heroes, with their tortured souls and black clothing. OF COURSE I was going to fall for Kylo/Ben. Just a bit.

But he’s also the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa and I love them, too. So, out of loyalty and like the good SW fan I am, I care about their son and what happens to him, and there’s just no hope to be found in Kylo’s death. There’s no good message in it. Even say that he’s “redeemed” or finds salvation or suffers through atonement, fine, whatever. Death is too simple. Vader was not a complex villain. Maybe in his youth he was supposed to be, but after his fall? No. He made his choice, and he chose the wrath and the Dark every day for 20 years until his son came along to rile up the long-buried conflict in his heart. No one conflicted Ben Solo more than Ben Solo himself. He’s his own worst enemy, as we all can be at some point in our lives.

It’s repeated all the time, so I’ll say it again:

Star Wars is a saga predicated on hope.

The message with a dead Ben Solo at Episode IX’s end is simply that of ‘well, you can find a way back from hell, but only if you die’, and that’s really bleak. Yet, it worked for Vader because, in the OT, he was largely an unsympathetic, “more machine than man” character.

Consider: How was Darth Vader going to find salvation and atonement for 20 years’ worth of galactic terrorism and oppression?

Answer: He wasn’t. His crimes were so great and extensive that 10 minutes of “goodness” couldn’t even begin to ease them. Narratively-speaking, his story was complete and it was time for him to meet his end. Character-wise, fueled as he was on hate and anger, and sustained by machinery for so many years, you have to also wonder if Vader wanted to die, ever since the moment he was told that he’d killed his wife and, by extension, his child[ren].

This greatly contrasts with Kylo Ren.

Consider: How is Kylo Ren going to find salvation and atonement for 6 years’ worth of galactic….wait, what?

Answer: The FO as a military and political threat is fairly new. It was not a fully realized organization during the events of Bloodline, though it was (if I remember correctly) in progress in the far regions of space. Ben, aged 23, was still with Luke at this time; he’s 29 by the start of TFA. So, in the span of 6 years, Kylo Ren canonically

destroyed a temple, killing a handful of classmates

started training under a Dark side master

became the leader of a mystery group

killed an old man from his past for withholding information during war time

ordered the mass killing of a small village during war time

interrogated some prisoners during war time

committed patricide during war time

fired on his mom’s ship during war time

killed his abusive master

led a full-scale yet futile attack during war time

tried to kill a projection of his uncle during war time

all while exhibiting acute internal conflict. It’s important to consider the majority of these crimes strictly within their context of war, primarily because it’s in the damn franchise title, but also because it again contrasts with Anakin’s crimes, which were not always within the context/name of war. It’s such a different villain treatment from OT Vader that I think Kylo not only deserves, but demands an equally different resolution.

Therefore, here’s a much more hopeful message on which to conclude the complex villainy of Kylo/Ben and, thus, the entire Skywalker saga:

You can find a way back from hell, if you live well.

4) What is your favorite scene featuring Rey and Kylo?

Ah, shit.

Well, the throne room battle was amazing and the closest to definitely-on-the-same-page as they’ve ever been to date. But I think I have to say the fourth Force bond scene. Hand making-out aside, this scene truly can be read as merely platonic, which I actually love because it’s another example of how this movie as a whole is so versatile and open for varying interpretations and discourse, for years to come!

AT THE SAME TIME, I personally feel that the hand touch (from the skin-on-skin contact, which the camera lovingly and reverentially sexualizes, to the forbidden connotation of Cock-block Luke) sent these two really rolling on a romantic trajectory. This scene also won over many viewers, whose previous feelings about Reylo were lukewarm at best and are now overwhelmingly positive. And that’s because of one undeniable thing:

This is the most emotionally vulnerable we’ve seen either Rey or Kylo.

It’s a major turning point in both their shared interactions and as individual characters. There’s a lot of amazing meta out there right now about Rey and Kylo, articulated far better than what I can produce. So, what I want to quickly add is that, for me, this scene reveals how utterly unselfish they can be with one another. Born from a place of intense, mutual knowing, they offered one another sincere support and reassurance from opposite sides of a political and ideological war. We later learn that this moment of reaching out yielded a shared vision, one where they saw themselves together.

A key takeaway is that they not only acknowledge this vision as truth, but earnestly –almost desperately– welcome it.

For me, this scene alone transcends the depictions of other cinematic romantic pairings within Star Wars itself, the wider genre of sci-fi, and the scale of big-budget franchises. I know I’m biased, but it’s quite frankly unbelievable how much was established and advanced between Rey and Kylo in two and a half hours of screen time, which they had to share with two other interwoven plot lines. For comparison, we have a good 80-90% of AotC entirely devoted to Anidala, and the most I’ve ever felt for them is a tepid interest because George Lucas and the OT said I had to. Written on paper, the Force connection scenes honestly sound super corny, this one especially. That they’re actually some of the film’s strong points is a testament to the story-telling/directorial abilities of Rian Johnson as well as the chemistry and talent of Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver, of course. And the great thing is Reylo isn’t even over! Think how much screen time will be devoted to them in IX and what they could do with that!

This is bound to change upon repeat viewings and/or after IX comes out. But for now, yeah, this is my favorite Rey and Kylo scene.

5) What order did you initially see the saga films in?

I think I was 5 or 6 and I think it was Return of the Jedi first, then A New Hope and Empire (in that order) shortly after. The rest I’ve seen as they’ve been released.

6) If you had a lightsaber, what color would you want it to be?

Maybe like an ice white blue…I’m not much of a lightsaber gal.

7) What are your top 3 favorite Star Wars films?

I’m tentatively going to say Empire, Force Awakens, Last Jedi.

8) Which droid would you most like to own/ have as your sidekick on intergalactic adventures?

What’s that Empire/FO “mouse” droid called? Maybe that one.

9) Which Jedi master would you most like to train under: Luke, Yoda, Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan?

Pfffft. Please. Reylo, obviously.

10) What is your ideal ending for Reylo in Episode IX?

So, I really try not to look at a Reylo ending through rose-tinted glasses. Reylo is a pairing that at this point cannot be taken lightly: it’s dark, it’s deeply complicated, and it’s very imperfect. In other words, it’s an honest, unfeigned pairing and I identify with it so much more because of its mesmerizing humanity.

We inevitably hurt the ones we love; shit happens, people miscommunicate, feelings get hurt. Kylo and now Rey have exercised misguided, even manipulative, behavior toward each other and failed in basic ways to understand and accept one another’s differences despite having shared and attained a powerful moment of clarity in their way forward. People call this ship abusive; I’m not that sorry, but they’re wrong. At worst, it’s unhealthy.

Well, guess what. You can get healthy.

Since I can’t even begin to predict or shape an ending for Reylo, I would just say that I wish for them to be sound in body and sound(er) of mind, and preferably together in some way. I personally want to see that union be romantic, but I will also accept a platonic union. I love and respect these characters so much that, honestly, I just want them to finally find what they’ve been longing and suffering their entire lives for. Now that they’ve at least partially found –and briefly possessed– that, I hope they also find a way to hold on to it in whatever way they can.

So much for not looking at it through rose-tinted glasses.

Tagging: @maleficentrox; @crez0le; @reylotea; @adambenkyloren; @paper-radio; @violet-is-maybe; @mooshygirl; @dr-porkchop1; @him-e

#reylo #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #star wars episode ix #can you guess at what i actually wanted to talk about #complex villains #byronic heroes #humanity #meta

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