#but it was very clearly made with love and its a wonderful tribute towards the source material

[lumina-rose]

Tear You Apart

Chapter 2/4

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/79765408#workskin 

Pairing:

Laszlo x Reader

Summary:

Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist's new assistant, who's presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.

(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)

Warnings:

Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining.

(More Future Warnings TBD)

Notes:

Chapter 2: Love & Hate

It had been a full day since your strange interaction with Dr. Kreizler.

After waiting to for him to gather everyone involved with the investigation, you were troubled when no call came. Part of you worried that it was due to your disturbing experience, but you fought back your anxieties with logic. Even if something had happened between the two of you, Laszlo would never let it interfere with the case. Still, that did not stop you from worrying about the alienist. Your mind constantly returning to that moment.

His tired appearance, caused by countless hours of work and stress, which were aided by sleepless nights theorizing the motives and background of the murderer that haunted New York. The vacant trace-like state that overtook him, as though his actions were being controlled by something else. Someone else. The warm feeling of his palm against your skin, a feeling that would have been calming and welcome, had it not been placed around your throat. Yet, the firm but gentle hold had thrilled you- excited you. But it also frightened you. And even now, you debated your mixed, complex emotions. There was fear, yes, but excitement too. Or was there both? Or were they the same? What was the difference between the two?

You had felt like this before, in fleeting moments and never quite as strong. You had felt it with small admirers from your past, though nothing ever came from these interactions. You had felt it when you first began your work at the Kreizler Institute, upon seeing the care taken to provide the city's troubled youth with a sanctuary, free from the pressures of society. And recently, in small moments with Dr. Kreizler, himself, after working by his side tirelessly. On your trips to the Opera, when you both would be given a chance to simply talk- not about work or the mentally ill- just genuine conversations, discussing your hobbies, interests, and hopes for the future. One particular moment had stuck out to you, thinking back. It had been late, and you had joined Kreizler back at his home after a long day of work. You shared a drink together, when he finally asked you what you hoped to gain from learning from him.

Usually when men asked about what you wanted to do as a working woman, they were against the notion that you wished to become an alienist, believing that a woman could never become a doctor despite the fact that there were a rare few that already were. Indeed, even with the likes of Marcus, Lucius, and John Moore there was apprehension. With Dr. Kreizler, however, he never tried to persuade you otherwise and spoke only with respect and encouragement in regards to your dream. Ever since that moment, you had harbored affection for the alienist, though you would never act on it. If not for the sake of your own feelings, then for Laszlo's reputation.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

Your mind found its way back to the present, returning you to your surroundings. You stood in the small apartment that had become your home, a space you had rented out from a Mr. Louis Arnett. He was an older man who had been left a widower, and remained unmarried to this day. While he was a bit older than yourself, perhaps eleven years your senior, it wasn't impossible to imagine the possibility of him remarrying. It often made you wonder if his lack of interest in remarriage was due to his age or grief. Due to the sudden passing of his late wife, he had moved to a new house in the city, but offered for you to live in his previous residence, as long as you kept paying your bill on time. Since the Kreizler Institute was more generous in terms of wages, that had never been an issue for you. Still, sometimes the older landlord would come by to check on the space, often taking time to sit and chat with you despite your insistence that it wasn't necessary.

"I must apologize, Mr. Arnett." You sighed, giving a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I'm afraid my mind is elsewhere as of late."

The older gentleman sat at a small table in the center of the room, drinking from a cup. He wore his typical suit, all black- save for one pin attached to his tie. A lily was depicted on the small item, as a tribute to his late wife. You eyed the item warily now, only being reminded of the bloodied bouquets.

He gave an understanding look. "As I can imagine. Nasty business. I must say, I'm rather concerned about that alienist you say you work for....Kreshner, was it? Letting a lady such as yourself work well into the night, with all these horrible attacks going on."

"Kreizler. Doctor Kriezler." You corrected. Another burning heat flashed through you, upon Arnett's mentioning of your employer, wrapping around the collar of your dress jacket. "As for myself, I am capable of finding my way home safely."

"Of that, I am certain. I do hope the man doesn't keep you there too late." Arnett relented, chuckling slightly at your reaction.

You turned to the landlord, scoffing.

"I assure you, if Dr. Kreizler had it his way, I'd be back well before the sun had begun to set. If anything, it's at my insistence that I spent so much time at the Institute."

"Is that so?"

You were used to speaking casually with the older gentleman, during such visits, but your comment seemed to intrigue the man. Perhaps you should be a bit more careful with your words. You stiffened slightly, rushing to correct your mistake.

"With the attack of those four women, I believe we should be using what time we have to catch the person responsible. My beauty sleep can wait, for now."

The man nodded, thinking for a moment, before standing to come closer to my side. Holding a hand out, he gave a quick goodbye. "Very well, Ms. (L/n). I suppose I shouldn't keep you. Though, I do wish you would take care of yourself."

"I thank you for your concern, Mr. Arnett." You nodded. "I should be heading to the Institute soon, anyways. Perhaps I can walk you down?"

"You are too kind, my dear."

You brushed off the endearment, convincing yourself it was merely a phrase he used often, and went to join the man in his exit. Once outside, the sounds and smells of the street hit you, reminding you that even with a killer on the loose, nothing could stop the momentum of New York. You escorted Mr. Arnett on the sidewalk, waiting as he attempted to hail a cab. After a few long minutes of idle conversation, a small carriage approached, stopping before the two of you. You gave a quick goodbye to the landlord, beginning to rush him away, as you grew more concerned with the time. Finally, once the cab was out of sight, you let out a heavy sigh.

It wasn't that the man's company was unpleasant. In fact, you were grateful to find a landlord in the city who was so welcoming and reasonable with rent prices, there was just something about Mr. Arnett that seemed odd. It was as though he sought to interject himself into a person's life, whether or not it was welcomed. Though you were now used to the man's occasional visits, it had been a bit unsettling at first. From what you'd heard before moving here, most people in the city didn't bat an eye when it came to the lives of strangers. Then again, he was a widower, offering up what used to be his home to anyone who would be willing to pay. Maybe having a woman in the house reminded him of happier times?

Now on your own, your mind was drawn back to Dr. Kreizler and the investigation that had taken over your current daily life. You had been a bit untruthful in your conversation with Mr. Arnett earlier, in saying that you needed to return to the Kriezler Institute for the day. In fact, you had been given the day off in advance by the alienist, for what he called a "well deserved break". Nevermind the fact that he had ignored you when you suggested he do the same. Looking back on it now, you wished he had taken your advice. These murders were clearly effecting him, if yesterday was any indication.

The walk to the Institute had been short, given that you only lived a few city blocks away. Even from the sidewalk outside, you could hear the cheers and laughter of the children inside, followed quickly by the voice of one of the matrons. You smiled lightly, knowing that at least the patients of the Institute seemed happy, despite the dark times the city was currently facing. It reminded you why your efforts in the investigation were so important. You faced the ugliest parts of life, so that they wouldn't have to.

When you entered the front doors of the Institute, you were relieved to see that no one appeared to be in the halls. While you usually enjoyed the company of the children, you didn't want to be pulled away from your current goal of finding Dr. Kreizler. You made your way towards the alienist's study, knowing you might find him there. After the fourth victim had been found, there was no doubt in your mind that he had once again stayed up all night, trying to go over every detail of the murder.

You found the door to the doctor's study left ajar, a sight that unsettled you. You crept inside, calling out softly for the doctor, before stepping in fully. After receiving no response, you glanced around. The walls of bookshelves towered over you, but you noticed spaces were there were empty slots where certain books were meant to be, no doubt to help create the ever-growing mountain on the main center table. Papers and pages were scattered about, messily, along with notes and photos from the murder victims. A chalk board had been placed inside the study, and had stayed there ever since the new case began. Countless questions were written, some organized to certain corners, while others were placed haphazardly.

Sleep fascination? Somnophilia?

Meaning of Flowers? Personal or Symbolic?

Physical Strength- perhaps a labor worker or military background?

Love and Hate?

Your eyes landed on the last question, drawing you back to your last discussion with Sara. Only now it seemed the question wasn't love or hate, rather love and hate. Much like your fear and excitement, it seemed Dr. Kreizler was starting to blur the two. In your distraction, you had failed to notice the door to the side laboratory open, where Laszlo emerged from, followed closely by a young girl.

"Ms. (L/n)?"

The gentle questioning tone in words were countered only by the rough, scratchiness in his voice. Turning quickly, you gave the doctor a startled stare. The circles under his eyes were darker, confirming your suspicions, but you were pleased to see that he had taken the time to clean up his appearance overnight.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Kreizler, I had called for you but you never answered." You explained.

"It's quite alright, I was just talking with Loretta." He gave a small smile to the girl, who clung to his good hand. When his eyes came back to you, a small jolt went through you. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Never."

The man quickly told the young girl to go join the other children outside, earning a silent nod and goodbye from her. As she rushed out, her hair bounced behind her, as she eagerly went to find her friends. You couldn't help but grin. Loretta was one of the more troubled youths. After an incident with a wild dog as a small child, she had been left with an intense fear of all animals. That fear later formed into troubling habits of torturing and hurting any creature she came across. Even going as far as to set fire to a neighboring cat's tail. You never would expect such a sweet smile to hide such violent tendencies.

"How did she react to the monkey?" You asked, curiously, looking back at Laszlo.

"She's improved, but is still afraid of them unless someone shows that they're friendly. It may be a while until she can deal with animals on her own." He nodded, mostly to himself, as if making a mental note. He stayed in his spot, by the door, as he continued. "I wasn't expecting you, I'm afraid. I believe I told you that you could have the day off."

"You did."

"And yet, you are here."

Still, he remained in place, as if he wanted to be near an exit at all times. You paused for a moment, stepping back towards the chalk board.

"I wanted to discuss something with you, but if you are otherwise occupied, I can wait." You said.

He stepped closer now, but still a good distance away. For some reason, that fact irked you. "Then you caught me at just the right moment. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

Ah, avoidance.

You didn't miss the fake curiosity in his tone, as he vaguely asked you what was on your mind. It was a test, and you both knew it. Would you mention his strange behavior? Did you dare? Did you want to? Did he want you to, or was this simply an attempt to forget the action, altogether?

You bit the inside of your cheek, biting back a frown. Two could play these games. "I wanted to share a thought I had about the case."

Instantly, Kreizler approached the table, overlooking the piles of read and unread books, in order to watch your expression, gauge your behavior. His expression became serious. "Go on?"

"I was thinking about why the killer used chloroform on his victims, despite failing to render them unconscious." You answered, your eyes meeting his. "I thought about the possibility that perhaps putting them to sleep wasn't his goal, nor was it to be used as a painkiller. As you pointed out, if reducing pain was it's purpose then he wouldn't resort to strangling the women. So then what if his goal was merely to disorient them, to make them unable to fight back? Perhaps the combination of panic and the effects of the drug caused them to go into shock? If that were his goal, then that would explain why he continues to use it."

The alienist pondered this for a moment. "He’s created an obsession with his true target, creating a delusion and using his victims as substitutes for her. If this is true, then perhaps the use of chloroform was simply a desperate attempt to keep them from fighting, from breaking the illusion he's created in his mind."

"That would also explain why he would then turn to using violence against them when they struggled." You nodded. "I suspect our latest victim fought a bit harder than the others, due to the stronger markings on her."

"It also supports the killer’s effort to cover up the wounds of the struggle. It would suggest that the victims didn’t want it to happen, when his delusion depends on their submission to him." Laszlo added, looking over the photographs. "He's become obsessed his target, taking pleasure from the idea that they will accept him, and escalating to violence when he's denied that pleasure."

He moved with a strong purpose, over to the chalk board, writing down a new series of thoughts and questions. There was a serious focus in his gaze, contradicted by a light glint in his brown eyes. You focused on his hand, as he quickly scratched the white chalk against the board's surface, following its path until he was done. The doctor stepped back, his chest heaving up and down slightly. A slight, satisfied smirk on his face.

"How did you come to this conclusion?" He asked, curiously, sighing.

A burning blush had reached your face, and your heart raced at the fact that your theory had brought some level of joy to the man. Blinking, you looked away, slightly embarrassed by your reaction. "I had an idea back at the morgue, before you..."

...before you grabbed my throat. You had trailed off, not wishing to speak the words aloud. Still, It seemed your message got through to Laszlo.

Now his eyes turned away, looking to the ground, as a rosy color reached the apples of his cheeks. There was a mixture of emotions in his expression, ones you could see he was fighting to hold back. Shame, embarrassment, regret, and something more. He no longer stood far away from you, as he had been just a moment before, yet you could tell he wanted nothing more than to be closer to the exit of the room.

“I must apologize, it was improper on my part and disrespectful to your boundaries." A hand went through his hair, a nervous reaction. "I fear I’m not sure what came over me.”

He didn't seem capable of looking at you, and you found yourself desperate to see his eyes. Taking a small step towards him, his head slowly turned to you. You gave him a reassuring smile.

"This case has been disturbing for all of us, Doctor, I won't blame you for being effected by it. Trying to understand the thoughts of the person responsible for these acts has proven to me that there is darkness in all of us... and that it's hard not to be consumed by it." You said, hoping to sound understanding.

You now stood only a couple feet away. His eyes met yours, as his expression gave way to something softer. "I’m not sure how I could make it up to you, after frightening you in such a way. If I still...”

Now you understood. There was the slightest tremor in his voice, but it was there. He was afraid. Afraid of his actions, afraid of how you'd react, afraid that you were scared of him now.

"I don't fear you, Laszlo." You admitted, softly. "I fear for you. If you truly wish to make it up to me, then allow yourself a break, if only for a day."

"I.." He shook his head, stubbornly, and glanced back to the photographs. "I can't-"

"-you will do no good if you work yourself to death before we even find a suspect." You countered, standing your ground. "Perhaps time away would clear your head. Please, Laszlo."

You bit you lip, as you prayed your heart would stop racing. You knew that Kreizler could be stubborn, often not listening to reason once he'd made up his mind. He paused, debating whether or not to listen to your advice. The ghost of a smile flickered over his face, before disappearing just as quickly as it came.

"How long has it been since we last went to the opera?"

You stared, unable to process his question for moment, as you focused solely on the word: “We”. After your initial shock, you cleared you throat. "I..I believe a month, perhaps?"

In truth, you weren't sure. After your investigation began, days and nights began to blur. You knew it had been more than a couple of weeks, at the least. Kreizler chuckled, softly.

"Well, then we must remedy that, shouldn't we?"

You weren't sure why you were so nervous. Going to the opera with Laszlo wasn't a first for you, so why did it feel so different this time?

You stared at yourself in the mirror, after changing into yet another dress for the outing. Perhaps it was because you felt surprised that Laszlo had asked you to join him, after the events of the day before. Or maybe it was because you couldn't get his actions out of your head, constantly thinking back to the feeling of his hand on you. You had been understanding that his action wasn't completely his own in that moment, but had that changed anything between you? Had he thought back to that moment, as you had?

Surely not, since you were about to accompany the alienist for the night. Then again, when you had insisted that he took a break, you didn't think he'd want to spend it with you, and yet here you were: stressing over what you should wear to the engagement. You wondered if you were just making a big deal out of nothing. He had said he wanted to make it up to you, and perhaps this was a compromise he'd found acceptable, allowing you both to have a night without worry or stress.

"Foolish." You sighed at your reflection, and the obvious blush that overtook your features, making it clear that it was not simply makeup that gave your cheeks a darkened color. "Absolutely foolish."

It wasn't often that you wore your formal attire, nor did you have an entire day to prepare for the night ahead. The payoff was that you looked far better than usual, a small comfort for your nerves. Was this too much? The question was now an echo in the seemingly endless cave that made up your mind. You shook your head, turning away from the mirror, once again cursing yourself for thinking in such a manner. Regardless, it was far too late now to worry about these little details, as the clock in your home rang out, signalling the time. You'd have to leave soon in order to make it to the theater at a reasonable time.

Every so often, as you began to gather you things for the night, your mind returned back to the investigation. You'd scold yourself. Tonight was a break, you didn't need to think about the horrors you'd seen. Laszlo needed this. Lord knows you needed this. Despite your nervousness, tonight was just a fun outing with a dear friend. And you intended to enjoy it, while you still had the chance.

A knock at your door startled you, as you prepared to leave for the evening. A shadow danced under the crack at the bottom of your door, signalling that there was indeed someone there, and not just your ears plating tricks on you. Cautiously, you reached for the knob. Was someone meant to visit today? No, you wouldn't have forgotten if Sara or the Isaacson twins were meant to come by.

When you opened the door, a man stood there, smiling down at you.

"Oh, hello Cyrus!" You greeted, sighing in relief.

The tall man gave you a nod, a smile playing out over his features. "Ms. (L/n)."

"Why..I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you, has.. Has something happened?"

Your heart and mind raced together. Had Laszlo changed his mind? No, he wouldn't be so rude as to cancel your plans last minute. Unless there was something important. Had another body been found?

Cyrus chuckled, shaking his head. "No, nothing of the sort. Dr. Kreizler just asked if Stevie and I could take you to the opera."

"Oh." It's all you could say, as you fought back another flush from your face.

"You look lovely tonight, Ms. (L/n)." Cyrus said, comfortingly, before turning his head back to the street. 

There, Laszlo's young ward, Stevie, sat at the driver's seat of the carriage, clearly itching to leave, so that he might race through the streets. You smiled, unable to hold back your joy.

"Thank you, Cyrus."

You had already gathered your belongings for the evening, not that there was really much you could bring, only a small bag attached to your wrist. You stepped out of your home, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You hurried down the front steps to the sidewalk, where you were promptly let into the empty carriage. Once inside and settled, you beamed, unable to contain yourself. You reasoned that your unexpected escort was probably due to concerns for your safety at this time of night, and nothing more. Still, a certain lightness in your chest emerged, bubbling up inside you, causing you to beam as you looked out the side window. 

You heard Stevie cheer out, and suddenly the vehicle pulled forwards. After a moment, you felt the wheel hit a large bump. You laughed after a second of surprise. Maybe your ride wouldn't be as calm as Doctor Kreizler had expected, but you couldn't find it within you to care.

When you finally made it to the theater, you had arrived a bit earlier than you expected. Not that you should be surprised, given how Stevie raced you through the city. On the carriage had stopped, Cyrus opened the door and bid you farewell. You watched the boy-driven carriage disappear into the night, before turning to face the opera house. The building was a towering structure, with large marble beams that made up the entrance. The warm, yellow light from the inside called to you, ushering you to join the fun. Given that Cyrus hadn't told you when Laszlo would arrive, you assumed he was waiting there for you. Picking up the skirt of your dress, you began your climb up the stairs, a slight urgency in your step.

You had found him a few minutes later, standing by the large stair case that lead to the upper level seats of the theater. Before he had seen you, you took a moment to admire his form. You had seen him in his formal suit before, a simple black suit with a white bow tie, but you always had to stop and admire the expensive outfit. He also had his cane with him, the one with the bird handle that you had once said you liked before. The one detail you thought was odd was the fact that he held the item with his right hand, as opposed to his left. Due to the weakness in the arm, he usually kept it close to his side in order to keep from hurting himself. It was only until he pulled a pocket watch from his vest with his dominant arm that you understood the change.

You walked towards him, until your approaching figure finally drew his attention. With a shy smile, she greeted the man. "I hope I'm not too late."

He shook his head, giving you a warm look. "Right on time."

He seemed rested now, compared to earlier, no longer wearing the dark circles that had plagued him for the last couple of days. You felt happy, knowing that he must have taken a break from the day as well.

"I apologize for sending Cyrus and Stevie to you without warning, I thought it'd be best if you didn't travel alone." He explained, before quickly looking over you. "You look beautiful tonight, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Laszlo." You replied, blushing, while clasping your hands together nervously. "Though, you didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It was no trouble at all. Stevie, in particular, seemed more than willing."

When the crowd of people began to move into the auditorium, you joined Laszlo as he led you up the stairs, towards the direction of the private box seats. You were a bit surprised to see this, given that he had gotten the tickets on such short notice. As you entered the box, you each took a seat next to each other, with you seated in your usual spot on his left. The opera you were watching was Aida, a story about an Ethiopian princess of the same name who was held captive in Egypt, and fell in love with an Egyptian general, Radames, and he with her, despite being promised to the Egyptian princess. As the show began, Laszlo quickly explained to you that the opera had been made by Antonio Ghislanzoni and Giuseppe Verdi, and had premiered December 24th, 1871. You chuckled, mostly to yourself, as you knew he'd be listing off little facts like this throughout the night.

As the show went on, you slowly realized a running theme in the show, in relating to it's star characters. Love & Hate. You found it a bit ironic, given the circumstances. In the first act, Aida, the main character, loves her country deeply but has hate for the Egyptians who have taken her and her people captive. Including Radames, as he continues to fight against her country. Time passes in the story, and the two begin to fall for one another. You were impressed with how the performer playing Aida was able to portray the conflicting emotions of the character- with her love for her country and her love for Radames, as she begins to fall for the Egyptian general. 

One of the reasons that made Laszlo's company so enjoyable was his ability to talk during a show, without taking away or distracting you from the experience. Often times, he'd speak quietly, leaning slightly for you to hear him over the music. He'd go on to tell you the historical origins that the opera was based on, and you had a feeling he had studied the opera before coming here. It seemed nearly impossible for him to know so much, if that were not the case. However, once the music began and each new song was sung, Laszlo's words would fall silent as all his focus was placed on the stage. Occasionally, his hand would twitch in the edge of you vision, pulling away your focus to the watch as his fingers shot up and down in the air, as though he were trying to play something.

Act Two played out similarly to the first, but showed how Radames fights with his own loyalties. By the end, the Egyptian general asked for the Pharaoh to release Aida and her people, but the Pharaoh would only accept if the general agrees to marry his daughter. Once the woman on stage stopped singing, the curtains closed and lights flickered back on. Already, some of the crowd had begun to leave the auditorium, in order to socialize with the other members of New York's society.

The two of you join them, going out into the crowded halls and lobby in order to celebrate your evening. Drinking champagne, you exclaimed your love for the story so far, as well as the performer's work. Laszlo agreed, complimenting the orchestra as well, before listening to your thoughts on the characters, occasionally interjecting how it's history was exaggerated for the sake of entertainment. Truly, you felt content in this moment, sharing your same passions with the alienist, while being able to give each other new thoughts and opinions. 

You were both finishing up your drinks, when your name had been called from some far off part of the room. Turning, you were shocked to see none other than Louis Arnett for the second time today. The man came over to you, dressed to the nines.

"Mr. Arnett, what a surprise to see you." You greeted, politely. "I thought I recalled you saying you weren't fond of the opera?"

"I've been known to come on the rare occasion." He replied. "It's a pleasure to see you, my dear. Lovely, as always. I also seem to recall the fact that I said you could call me Louis."

Kindly, you shook your head in denial. "I apologize, Mr. Arnett, but I highly doubt that'd be appropriate."

Before, you may have brushed off the endearments, but now they were beginning to irritate you. Especially with Laszlo present. Turning your head, you looked at Laszlo, who's warm smile had returned to his usual subdued expression.

"Mr. Arnett, I must introduce you to Dr. Kreizler!" You said, steering the conversation away from you. Laszlo gave you a confused expression, before you quickly explained: "Mr. Arnett was kind enough to open his home to me for such a low price, when I first moved here. He'll stop by on occasion."

Laszlo smiled, giving Arnett a nod, before placing his cane back into his right hand. With his left, he shook your landlord's hand, introducing himself.

"Ah, the alienist." Arnett hummed. "Tell me, Kreizler, do you always take your assistants with you to the opera? One might think you're trying to keep (Y/n) all to yourself!"

"Mr. Arnett, please." You hissed out, appalled.

Arnett chuckled, but you found nothing about his words humorous. Not only were they rude, given the circumstance, but the implication alone was entirely inappropriate. You also despised how he had spoken as if you weren't right there in front of him. Laszlo was clearly uncomfortable with the man's words, but tried his best to hide it.

The alienist merely sighed. "While it's true, Ms. (L/n) does work with me, It's been a pleasure to enjoy her company. Though she does assist me with my work at the Institute, I'm honored to consider her a close colleague and friend."

The last word was barely more than a small whisper, yet Arnett seemed to catch it. The older man nodded in understanding, before looking to you.

"I understand entirely. I don't blame you for wanting to spend more time with her, especially way from those horrible murders."

You blushed, stiffening slightly at the mentioned case. "Mr. Arnett, I'm afraid the purpose of our outing was to get away from the investigation. I'd highly appreciate it if we could enjoy our night in peace."

"Ah," He cleared his throat, embarrassed at your reaction. His hand went up to smooth out his tie, his thumb brushing over the lily pin. "I apologize. Of course you wouldn't wish to speak of it here. " Something in the distance seemed to catch the older man's eye, drawing his attention. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going."

You found yourself stunned at his erratic behavior, as he moved away back into the crowd. Once out of earshot, you let out a heavy sigh, turning to Laszlo with an apologetic look.

"I must apologize for Mr. Arnett. He has a tendency to overstep in conversations. I hope he didn't offend you too greatly."

Kreizler's brown eyes had followed Arnett, before finally looking back to you. While his smile hadn't returned, the warm look he gave you had. "John has, on occasion, accused me of doing the same. I suppose its only right that I should have to experience the same hardships I deal to others."

With that, the crowd was then directed back into the auditorium, as intermission drew to a close. To your surprise, Laszlo had offered you his arm, as you both returned to the private section. As the curtains rose and the next act began, you found yourself thinking about Mr. Arnett's strange behavior and how he'd spoken with Laszlo. You could understand if the man didn't like the alienist, given that Dr. Kreizler didn't have the best reputation among most of New York. Still, you weren't prepared for how casually he had disrespected him and spoke about you as though you were merely there to entertain them. Your chest felt warm, as you recalled how kindly Laszlo had spoken about you, complimenting your company. However, the way his voice has weakened upon calling you a friend had stirred all your anxieties back to the surface.

As the first song began, you looked to Laszlo, admiring him as he watched the show. Did he truly see you as a friend? Or was his hesitation an indicator of something more?

The third act began, with the story immediately picking up where it left off. Aida and her lover, Radames, perform in a song, where the characters are lamenting their forbidden and doomed romance. Once the song ends, Aida then began to plead with the gods, praying that they take pity on her people and the two lovers. In such dark times, as the one you live in now, you felt as though you would've done the same, had you believed in such a God. 

With the song at an end, you had expected Laszlo to then make another small comment about the show. However, when his gaze remained focused on the stage, you found yourself a little disappointed. It wasn't until you felt a warm brush against your hand, that your attention switched. It was brief, just for a moment, but Laszlo's left hand had touched yours, yet his eyes remained in place. Somehow, it seemed as though he hadn't noticed. Or if he had, he didn't mind. You blinked, clearing your throat silently, before looking back to the stage. The next song began, and followed the story with interest, wondering what would come of the two main characters, and the enslaved people of Ethiopia. 

Once again, you felt his hand against your own. There was no doubt now. Without moving you head, your eyes went back to his hand, a finger draped over your own. Slowly, you moved your hand into his, your palm covering over his own. Your heart raced, and the room felt significantly warmer. You began to doubt yourself, cursing whatever god there was for your foolish actions. But it all stopped, as his fingers wrapped into your own. You felt your breath hitch, but fell into a comfortable silence, watching the opera with a racing heart. As the song came to an end, you weren't sure if you welcomed it's conclusion or mourned it.

Laszlo turned, facing you. Even with the dim lights of the theater, you could make out the pink color of his cheeks and neck, as he continued to stare at you. His eyes held the same intensity as the day before, but that vacant expression was gone, replaced with something much softer. A binding energy trapped you in place, unable to look away. Even as the music began, signalling the next song, the doctor did not break his stare. Instead, his gaze slowly traced over you, a soft caress.

It wasn't until the music softened, transitioning from a loud crescendo to a soft steady melody, that you heard him whisper your name, as if asking something. You responded with his own.

You didn’t know who let go of the other’s hand, but it didn’t matter. Kreizler’s hand slowly reached up to you, the back of his fingers brushing over your cheek, as he pushed back a small section of your hair behind your ear, before finding it's destination against your jaw. He was hesitant to lean into you, not wishing to overstep your boundaries. It until you matched his actions, did the space between you disappear.

It was a small, innocent kiss. Even as you broke away, you felt the soft gentle buzzing on your lips. Your noses brushing, you looked up at him, staring into those brown eyes you've grown to love. You only broke the stare to lean in again, chasing the feeling of his lips on your own once more. You hardly cared where you were at the moment, as you lifted a hand to place over his own. You kissed him gently, not wanting to ruin this moment, as you lightly parted your lips for him. The hand on your jaw fell, finding it's place back against your neck, making you gasp. He seemed to grow more bold, matching your desperate enthusiasm. His fingers then dug down, not harshly but just enough to add pressure. The sensation was enough to send a sudden jolt of heat through you, making a small instinctive whine fall from you.

Suddenly, he broke away from you, a strange glint in his eye. As you caught your breath, you couldn't quite tell if his expression was one of excitement or fear. Before you could even ask what was wrong, the doctor got up from his seat, moving to leave the small theater box, not even stopping to take his walking cane. The light happiness in your chest died as quickly as it was born, and all that was left was the sinking feeling of fear and confusion. You then followed, doing the same, as the same nagging question played over in your mind. Had you done something wrong?

Tears threatened to form, but you fought to keep them down. At least until you had an explanation for Laszlo's actions. You found him just outside, in the empty halls of the theater. As you approached, he looked back at you, a troubled expression on his face. Your heart broke at the sight.

"Laszlo, I.. If I've done something wrong I sincerely apologize. I.. I'm sorry-"

Cutting me off, his head shot up, as if stunned. "You've done nothing of the sort!"

"Then why are you troubled?" You stepped forwards, searching for answer. "If I am not at fault, then you must tell me what it is I have done that has made you react in such a way."

"I just...I don't wish to see you get hurt. By being close to me." Laszlo looked conflicted, pausing as he tried to form his thoughts. His eyes looked to the ground, as he sighed. "By me."

The phantom hold on your neck returned, as you noticed the look of fear in his eyes. This man, who has trouble follow him wherever he goes, seemed haunted by something. You bit your lip.

"I've already forgiven you for you previous actions, as I know they were not entirely your own in that moment." You took a deep breath in order to keep your voice from failing you. "And even if they were, I trust you enough to know that you'd never hurt me, Laszlo."

"And if I wanted to?" He spat it out, quickly. Though the words didn't seem directed towards you, rather.. himself.

You blinked, a blush rushing to your face once more, as you were taken aback. Gathering yourself, you reached for his hand once more, silently. Lifting it gently, you gave a soft squeeze, a comforting gesture. His eyes met your own again.

"I'll trust you even then." You replied, feeling genuine in your response.

His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he looked down at you. He squeezed you hand, holding it in a grasp that was almost tight. A warning. Yet you stayed right there, watching as his eyes fell to your lips.

He pulled you forward, against him, as his lips met your own again. Unlike before, this wasn't so sweet and gentle as it had once been. No, now that underlying desperation, that need, broke to the surface as his teeth pulled on the soft subtle skin on your mouth, almost forcing you to open your lips for him, hadn't you not already been willing to. His weaker right arm found a place against your waist, as his left found the back of your neck, a strong hold keeping you there.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden forwardness of the typically reserved man. Your hands fell against his suit, finding a hold on the vest beneath his suit jacket. One of your hand slowly traced a path, running against the hairs behind his ear, as you gently pulled against them. The action sent a groan from Laszlo's throat, an unfamiliar experience for you, as you felt his voice against your skin. And Oh, how you craved more, smiling at how you had earned such a reaction. In response, you felt a quick nip at your bottom lip, a small jolt of pain coming from it, before his tongue ran along the same area. At the same time, the hand around your neck squeezed down. A thrilling chill passed through your entire being, finding it's destination just below your stomach. His lips changed direction, trailing a path from your lips to your jawline. You moaned, quietly, just enough for the alienist to hear.

"Laszlo."

Lust wasn't a look you were a stranger to, but seeing it overtake every aspect of Laszlo's appearance as he looked down at you definitely was. And you had no doubts that you looked the same. He pulled away from his advances, hesitating for a moment, blinking away the haze in his eyes. You leaned up, pressing a kiss against his cheek, as his left hand came down to your waist. As you silently stared at each other, you heard the volume of the opera's music return, reminding you of your surroundings. As much as you wished to continue, you knew you couldn't. Fortunately, it seemed Laszlo had come to the same conclusion, leaning back as he smiled again.

"It would be best if we return, before we are found in such a state..." He sighed, almost sadly.

He was right of course. If anyone had gone out into the halls at that moment, the mere sight of your disheveled states would be enough to cause a scandal, something neither of you wanted for the other. You looked away, nodding in agreement as you blushed, bashfully. As if you hadn't just clung to him, wishing that he'd continue. You returned to your seats, the two of you smooth out your clothes, erasing as much evidence to your actions as you could. Once you returned, Laszlo once again placed his hand against yours, drawing gentle circles against the back of your hand throughout the rest of the show. Permanent smile crept to your face.

The opera ended, with Aida and Radames dying in each other's arms. A tragic love story, doomed to fail from the start. But then again, did it truly fail? After all, Aida's people had escaped captivity and she had found her last moments with the man she loved. Perhaps if you hadn't missed part of the story you would've come to a suitable answer. You didn't regret missing it though, finding comfort in a far more enjoyable feeling in whatever it was that was between you and the alienist by your side.

You left the theater, with your arm wrapped around his own, sharing electric glances and soft touches. Once outside, you saw the familiar faces of Stevie and Cyrus, who apparently had been waiting to escort you back. Laszlo lead you to the carriage, opening the door for you. He took your hand, helping you step into the vehicle, before quickly joining you inside. Once settled, you met his gaze once more.

He smiled, warmly. "I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. John has told me that the opera can be rather dull, at times.."

You blinked, bewildered. Surely, he was joking. You couldn't help but laugh, as you gave him a strange stare. "You're the alienist, Dr. Kreizler. What would you believe?"

Laszlo chuckled in response, taking your joke as a good sign. Lifting his cane, he tapped the roof of the carriage twice, signalling Stevie to start our journey. Your ride home had been much calmer than earlier, and you enjoyed the comfortable silence that fell over the two of you. However, as you neared your home, you sensed that Laszlo had something to say. 

"I'm sorry if my reaction startled you, that hadn't been my intention. The troubled minds of other have always been something that intrigued me, yet when faced with it myself, I find myself at a loss." He said quietly. "I meant it when I said you could get hurt, being close to me. Someone I held dear was taken from me, and I still fear that the same fate may reach you, the way it did her..."

He spoke as though a ghost hovered over his shoulder, a new level of vulnerability you'd never seen before. You realized that perhaps this is what John meant when he said Laszlo had been hurt the most by the last investigation. 

"I understand," You looked up, reading his expression as you spoke. "But you shouldn't blame yourself for the past. If you truly cared for her and could have changed whatever happened, I know you would have. You cannot punish yourself for something you could not control. If you worry for me, for whatever may come, I know you will work to keep the same from happening."

Laszlo stared at you, a sad smile playing over his face, as he mulled over your words. Once more the silence fell over you. It was only a few minutes more, when you reached your home.

As you glanced out the window, you paused. "Thank you, Laszlo. I had a lovely time, enjoying your company."

"Perhaps we should go to the opera again?" He suggested, hopeful.

"I.." You blushed for what felt like the hundredth time at this point. "I didn't wish to assume."

"Never, kedvesem." He replied, speaking a Hungarian word you hadn't learned yet. But it didn't take much to know that it was an endearment of some sort. "Though, perhaps we should save Delmonico's for the next trip to the opera."

You heart leapt at the notion, sending a rush through you. You gave your farewell, before stepping out of the carriage. Quickly, you did the same for Stevie and Cyrus, once again thanking them for their services for the night. As you watched the carriage disappear into the night, you felt as though you could die from happiness. Stepping into your home, the door being left unlocked, you gave a sigh of relief. The night had been a success and so much more.

You dragged yourself into your private room, tired after the long night.

 And in your distracted state, you hardly noticed the small bouquet of roses on your pillow.

[beebubbly]

Ever After

Prince Ethan x MC  

A twist on A Cinderella story 

SUMMURY: Casey, a beautiful young woman, is treated as a servant by her stepmother and stepsisters. One day, she crosses paths with Prince Ethan, heir to the kingdom, who falls in love with her.

There are those who swear that Perrult’s telling of Cinderella with its fairy godmother and magic pumpkins would be closer to the truth than many of the other versions, one including the legendary slippers to be made of fur.

Perhaps its time to set the record straight; what’s that phase?

Once upon a time...

There lived a young girl who loved her father very much. Her father was a merchant who went abroad and often brought a tribute back for his darling daughter. Casey missed him terribly when he was away, but knew he would always return. 

Casey’s mother had passed away not long after Casey was born. Her father had started to believe it was time for change, hopefully for the better. Upon his travels he met and fell in love with Baroness Rodmilla de Ghent and the two married quickly making their little family complete with the addition of Rodmilla and her two stepdaughters.

But like all stories, there is an unhappy event. One day as Casey’s father was leaving for a new trade, he had a heart attack and sadly passed away. It would be ten years before another man who would enter her life, a man who was still a boy in many, many ways.

In the years that passed since her father’s passing Casey became more of a servant than a member of the family. She worked hard, allowing the hard chores as a distraction from the grief of losing her father.

Luckily, she still had the other servants who she had grown up with and loved like family. Unfortunately, Rodmilla was used to the luxurious lifestyle and the household fell into debt, one of the servants- Elijah had been sold in attempt to pay off some of the debt.

Casey found herself in the forest that was near the house, she picked apples for the household to enjoy. Casey picked an apple and was studying it when the sound of hooves caught her attention. The palace guards rode past her paying her no heed.

Once satisfied with the apples Casey made her way back to the house when a horses whining caught her attention. Curiously, she paused in her walk.

“Come on, you stupid beast” she heard a man’s voice follow.

She watched as a man on the back of one of the families horses jumped the hedge and galloped near.

“Oh, no, you don’t” Casey shook her head running towards the man, dropping most of the apples from her hold.

Taking one of the apples Casey threw it hard at the man effectively knocking him from the horse. The man tumbled from horseback and fell into the hay. Casey grabbed more apples from the ground.

“Thief!” she yelled at the man, attacking him with apples. “This will teach you for trying to steal my fathers horse!”

Another satisfying hit to the man, who attempted to scrambled to his feet, a cloak covered his head and face.

“Please, my own slipped his shoe. I have no choice” The man said as Casey attacked him with more apples.

“And our choice is what? To let you?” Casey asked him.

“I was borrowing it!” 

“Get out, or I’ll wake the house” Casey warned him pelting him with another hit.

“Ow!” 

The man managed to get the cloak from his head, and stand up enough for Casey to see his handsome face, dark hair and blue eyes. Imminently, she recognised him to be the prince. With a gasp, Casey fell to her knees, dropping the apples.

“Forgive me, your highness. I did not see you” Casey said bowing her head to the ground, not daring to look up at the man before her. Prince Ethan looked down, realising he was wearing the royal coat of arms- clearly visible.

“Your aim would suggest otherwise” Ethan said, rubbing at the welt that was forming on his head. She had a powerful arm.

“And for that I know I must die” 

“Then er-” Ethan hesitated, he was not about to be caught by his guards. “speak of this to no-one and er- I shall be lenient”

Ethan climbed back onto the horse, he glanced down at the young woman. She had long dark brown- almost black hair with a thin braid. She glanced up at him for a split second.

“We have other horses, Highness” she told him. “Younger, if that is your wish”

 “I wish for nothing more than to be free of my gilded cage.” he found himself telling her. “For your silence”

He tipped a number of gold coins onto the ground in front of her, with one last look at the young woman he clicked his tongue and rode off.

Casey looked up watching the dark haired prince ride off with her horse. She wondered what had brought him to  run away from home. Glancing down at the coins before her, Casey sucked in a deep breath.

There was a lot of money, quite possibly enough to buy back Elijah! But the only problem was her stepmother, if she caught wind of money- it would be gone in a heartbeat. Casey picked up the gold coins, carefully tucking them into her dress before she stood and started to pick up the apples.

This might just be her lucky day, first the prince speared her life and now she would be able to help her family, with Elijah back, his girlfriend would be reunited with him and that would mean the world to her.

Casey made her way quickly to the house once she finished picking up the apples. She had just entered when she heard her name being yelled by her stepmother.

"Coming!" Casey called back, tipping the apples into a basket.

"Ooh, she's in one of her moods." Jackie warned her as she entered the room with the two older women.

"Did the sun rise in the east?" Sienna asked looking at Casey's bright smile.

"Yes, Sienna, it did" Casey said tipping the gold coins onto the table. "And it is going to be a beautiful day."

The two women gasped at the sight, taking a step closer to the table.

"Look at all those feathers! Child, where did you get this?" Jackie asked.

"From an angel of mercy. And I know just what to do with them." Casry smiled at Sienna.

"Elijah?"

"If the baroness can sell your boyfriend to pay her taxes, then these can certainly bring him home." Casey told her. "The court will have to let him go."

"But the king has sold him to Cartier. He's bound for the Americas." Sienna shook her head.

Casey moved around the room, picking up a cup of salt and the bread.

"This is our home, and I will not see it fall apart." Casey told her firmly, putting a hand to her shoulder.

"We are waiting!" Rodmilla called.

"Oh, take heed, mistress, or these coins are as good as hers." Jackie warned her putting the coins back into Casey's dress handing her another plate.

"Morning, madam." Casey greeted as she entered the room where her mother and two stepsisters sat eating breakfast. "Marguerite. Jacqueline."

"Hello." Jacqueline replied softly.

"I trust you slept well."

"What kept you?" Rodmilla questioned as Casey put the salt carefully on the table.

"I fell off the ladder in the orchard, but I am better now." Casey told her.

"Someone's been reading in the fireplace again. Look at you, ash and soot everywhere." Marguerite commented in distaste.

"Some people read because they cannot think for themselves." Rodmilla said as Casey put the bread onto the table.

"Why don't you sleep with the pigs, cinder-soot, if you insist on smelling like one?" Marguerite told Casey.

"Ooh, that was harsh, Marguerite. Casey, come here, child." Rodmilla grabbed Casey's hands. "Your appearance does reflect a certain crudeness, my dear. What can I do to make you try?"

"I do try, Stepmother. I do wish to please you." Casey told her. "Sometimes, I sit on my own and try to think of what else I could do, how I should act-"

"Oh, calm down, child. Relax."

"Perhaps if we brought back Elijah, I would not offend you so." Casey suggested.

"It is your manner that offends, Casey. Throughout these hard times, I have sheltered you, clothed you and cared for you." Rodmilla said. "All that I ask in return is that you help me here without complaint. Is that such an extraordinary request?"

"No, my lady."

"Very well. We shall have no more talk of servants coming back. Is that quite understood?"

"Yes, my lady." Casey nodded as she turned to leave.

"After all that I do, after all I have done, it's never enough." Rodmilla turned to her daughters as Casey left the room.

If Rodmilla wasn't willing to help get Elijah back, then she was going to do it herself. Casey had a plan.

Dressed in a nice light blue dress and her face clean, Casey made her way to the castle where she knew Elijah would be. She spotted the cage where men were being pushed into. It set off.

Casey ran up stopping the men from leaving by grabbing the rein of the horse.

"I wish to address the issue of this gentleman." Casey told the man on the waggon with the cage, motioning to Elijah.

"He is my servant, and I am here to pay the debt against him."

"You're too late. He's bought and paid for." The man told her.

"I can pay you 20 gold francs."

"Madam, you can have me for 20 gold francs. Now drive on!" the man ordered but Casey stood her ground.

"I demand you release him at once, or I shall take this matter to the king." Casey demanded.

"The king's the one that sold him. He's now the property of Cartier."

"He is not property at all, you ill- mannered tub of guts." Casey said furiously. "Do you honestly think it right to chain people like chattel?"

"I demand you release him at once." Casey repeated stepping closer to the cage.

"Get out of my way!" the man yelled in her face.

"You dare raise your voice to a lady, sir?" a voice called out to them.

Casey turned to find Prince Ethan sat on a horse watching them. She bowed her head at him respectfully.

"Your Highness." the man chuckled. "For- Forgive me, sire. Uh, I meant no disrespect."

"Uh, it's just, uh, I'm following orders here. It's my job to take these criminals and thieves to the coast."

"A servant is not a thief, Your Highness, and those who are cannot help themselves." Casey turned to look at Prince Ethan. The attention of the many people were now on them.

"Really? Well, then, by all means... enlighten us" Ethan motioned a hand for Casey to continue.

"If you suffer your people to be ill- educated, and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them" Casey told him passionatly.

"What else is to be concluded, sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?"

"Well, there you have it. Release him." Ethan ordered the man after a moment.

"But, sire-"

"I said release him."

"Yes, sire. The man nodded getting down to release Elijah. Casey followed behind, but sent Ethan a thankful smile over her shoulder.

"I thought I was looking at your mother." Elijah said as he hugged Casey, she handed the man the bag of gold coins.

"Meet me at the bridge." Casey whispered to Elijah.

"Prepare the horses. We will leave at once." Casey announced in a louder voice. Elijah, curious nodded and walked off quickly.

Casey made her way over to Prince Ethan, she curtsied slightly.

"I thank you, Your Highness." she told him sincerely before she set off wanting to get away in case he recognised her or someone realised she wasn't a courtier.

Ethan climbed down off his horse and followed after the woman that had peeked his intrest.

"Have we met?" Ethan frowned at her.

"I do not believe so, Your Highness."

"I could have sworn I knew every courtier in the province." Ethan told her.

"Well, I am visiting a cousin" Casey said thinking quickly as Ethan walked alongside her.

"Who?"

"My cousin."

"Yes, you said that. Which one?"

"Th-The only one I have, sire."

"Are you coy on purpose, or do you honestly refuse to tell me your name?" Ethan almost huffed.

"No. And yes."

Casey paused for a moment before she continued walking briskly.

"Well, then, pray, tell me your cousin's name, so that I might call upon her to learn who you are." Ethan said walking in front of her and backwards so he could still see her.

Ethan stopped for a moment letting her brush past him.

"For anyone who can quote Thomas More is well worth the effort."

This made Casey stop and turn to face Ethan. She was intrigued that he knew of the book.

"The prince has read Utopia?"

"I found it sentimental and dull." Ethan told her as he took a few steps towards her.

"I confess, the plight of the everyday rustic bores me."

"I gather you do not converse with many peasants." Casey noted as Ethan stepped closer again.

"Certainly not. No, naturally." Ethan gave a light scoff.

"Excuse me, sire, but there is nothing natural about it." Casey shook her head lightly, frowning at him as she walked away.

"A country's character is defined by its 'everyday rustics,' as you call them. They are the legs you stand on, and that position demands respect not-"

"Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?" Ethan raised an eyebrow as he stepped in front of her again, standing close to her.

From this distance Casey could see the prince had bright blue eyes and feel the warmth from his body.

"Well, you gave one man back his life, but did you even glance at the others?" Casey glanced back at the others who were still imprisoned, Ethan followed her gaze.

She had a point.

Casey started walking again making Ethan follow.

"Please, I beg of you. A name. Any name."

"I fear that the only name to leave you with is Comtesse Sophia de Lancret." Casey told him.

"There now. That wasn't so hard." Ethan smiled at her.

"Ethan!"

The pair paused again for a moment, Ethan turned to find his mother heading their way.

Casey used this distraction to slip away from the prince. A small smile stayed on her face as she and Elijah made their way home.

[missingartist]

Fated Destiny

anonymous asked:

Hi can i request geralt x reader soulmate unwilling to find each other, you can do whatever you want for the story. I know this sentence mean a lot in the tv show ''people linked by destiny will always find each other''

Rating Mature- You have been warned

People linked by destiny will always find each other

The words etched into your skin since your birth. It burnt at first, even after a lifetime you could still remember the searing, the burning, the begging for it to end. The priestess had told you that it meant your bond was strong, the strongest they had ever seen. That had not been very comforting in your heats, with no lover or soulmate to pull you through; those times were harrowing and hard. Still, the priestess had been proud of a Valkyrie to have a soulmate, the stuff of dreams you were told. It made you almost laugh; you were never a romantic, a realist if anything, the scowled you received at the hands of the High Priestess herself were legendary. So few Valkryie receive such an honour and those who kept them after were few and far between. The High Priestess would repeat time and time again that destiny would prevail. Even now, you could clearly recall the sound of her voice as she bared down at you from her throne in the temple. When you ascended from Swan Maiden to Valkyrie, she had been destroyed that you chose to stay at the temple as advisor and teacher.

Staying in Valhalla was practical, there were so few of them remaining that they need sturdy teachers, who else could teach the old ways, then who would carry the slaughtered through to the next world, guard the weak and vulnerable, help the unfortunate. There were times you regretted it; you were not above the idea of love and a family, only a soul bond could grant that for a Valkyrie to free of her duties and allow the gods to grant fertility. Yet, sacrifices had to be made, and you would never had made a good soulmate, too much of a reader, too bookish, too dull. Those were the taunts that were whispered behind your back, the jeers and isolation who received at the hand of your so-called friends in arms, the other swan-maidens. So you remained in the temple bound to your duty, honouring the dying and the fallen.

But in saying that, sometimes you would fantasise. He would be a fierce warrior, skilled in his craft, bathed in blood and at the same time kind with a loving smile and warm arms that would encircle you. Your dreams kept you company in the lonely nights in the library, and that was enough because you knew, no matter what the books said about soulmate, it was romanticised, no one could love another like that, not even your parents, too afraid of her daughters mark to keep her, so instead offer her to the Temple of the Valkyrie.

‘Y/N…’ A voice called you back into the present as your friend, and mentor Edda entered the vast library, gliding across the marble in her white silk dress. Elegant and poised as ever, she had ascended when she was nearing 40, but she was easily one of the most beautiful maidens in the temple, graceful and slim bodied.

‘We have been called to the throne room; it’s the High Priestess, she has called an emergency meeting.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Ahhhh Edda and Y/N so glad you could finally honour us with your presence.’ The High Priestess chirped, standing in the middle of the throne room.

Including you, 27 Valkyrie’s stood silently around the edge of the circular hall, some in temple dress of white silk and bright gold metal, hair twisted in place immaculately. Others, in armour, battle dress, plated metal and hardened leather, adorned with the finest steel swords and bows, glittered shield strapped to there backs. Both sides of the Valkyrie were so different. Light and dark. Life and death. Contrasting, but the different sides of the same coin.

‘My children…I fear our age is coming to an end. We have become less and less, humans kill us, haunt us when all we have done is serve them. Till we are the few that remain, if we perish then the Valkyrie is no more. I cannot allow this to happen. The humans have turned, just as they did with the Elfs. Kings mad with power deem themselves beyond us. Some have outlawed magic altogether, train witch hunters to track and kill all things magic. Our temple can stand no longer silent when our brother and sisters are tortured and burnt at the stake. Tissaia de Vries, Rectoress of Aretuza, has pleaded for our help and we can no longer linger at the side of the battlefield. We are Valkyries, shield maidens, defenders, and we do not hide. WE WILL fight. If any of you do not agree, go forth from my halls, I will hold no ill will. But daughters, I beseech you. Fight with me.’

Your eyes did not move from her, her golden hair shining in the light, creating a hallow around her as she moved. No one moved, no one breath till the High Priestess has a sharp nod and ascended the throne.

‘Men have forgotten what it is to be afraid. We will bring fear. Shall we begin?’ The voice of the High Priestess run out deadly across the room as you received your orders.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

With that you found yourself posted to the mortal lands, you still found yourself standing in awe as you past some wonder or another. Skellige had a savage beauty to it, dark greens and blues, mix with the earthy tones of browns and greys. The people for all their ferocious talk and gruff nature were warm and welcoming; few knew your true visage, but that didn’t seem to matter. They welcomed your help with open arms, clothed and feed you.

Your Pegasus, a pure white mare, its wings tucked secretly away at her side as she trotted merrily through the worn path. You had picked her personally from a litter, the runt; you had nursed it yourself, fed it day and night for weeks, will it was strong enough to train and since then you were inseparable. You had flown into battle with her, sprinted through meadows, guarded Kings with your faithful Pegasus at your side.

You had been travelling for days, across Skellige to reach here, the gates of Crach an Craite’s castle, Kaer Tolde. It stood tall and imposing above the sea and waves broke violently against the cliff wall. The stone was a dark grey, but vibrant green ivy climbed the stone, giving it an almost picturesque quality. You hated to admit it but coming to earth had made you realise how much you hate the pristine halls and celestial keeps, you like the imperfect, the grim and the grotesque. Nothing had to be perfect to be beautiful.

A tall, powerful man in traditional garb stood in the middle of the keep, a band of gold surrounded his head, making him almost King-like, a powerful Jarl to be sure.

‘Hail Virtuous Valkyrie, my home is yours for as long as you need.’ The Jarl stepped forward bowing nearly in respect.

‘I thank you, noble Jarl, but just Y/N is fine. My High Priestess thanks you for you tributes. I am at your service.’ You grinned as you stepped forward, clunch his forearm in a Northan handshake.

‘Ahhhhh you with your pretty words. Come I have had the maids prepare a room for you. There is someone I think you have been waiting a long time to meat ’ The jarl laughed as he gestured you into the castle.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The room was comfy, autumn colours warmed the room, while a fire softly roared by the hearth. It was not as grand as the rooms at the Temple, but in its rustic charms, it felt more homely than any rooms you had ever slept it. You made your way, thought the larges corridors to the feasting hall, it wasn’t hard to figure out where you were going, just follow the noise of roaring cheers that reverberated across the castle. The hall was full of merry people, laughing and cheering, songs rude enough to make a sailor blush. It was outrageous, and you loved it. Weiving you way through the crowd you pitched a flagon from a pasting steward toward your host, who stood in conversation with a group of white-haired men and a woman.

‘Ahhhh Geralt, Vesemir, Ciri this is Y/N, the Valkyrie I have the honour of hosting’ Crach beamed as he hoisted his horn aloft draining the vessel in one gulp, droplets of mead, gathering in his beard.

‘Greetings fair warrior maiden, humble Witchers are ever given such an honour’ the oldest man, bowed, revealing two swords strapped to his back, ever ready it would seem.

‘I have never met a Valkyrie before, is it true you ride a flying horse?’ The women Ciri grinned across at you, amused.

A laugh formed in your belly and escaped from your lip before you could fight it back, ‘It is, mine is called Slugger, he often has to roll with the punches, if you want you could come on a ride. She loves to show off. But the honour is mine; Witcher’s are famed throughout the hall of the temple they are very coveted, I believe many of my sisters have a favourite Witcher they protect and guard against harm.’ You teased, taking a sip of the honeyed mead, savouring the taste on your tongue.

‘Hmmm,’ the last Witcher hummed but remained silent, looking boredly at the floor.

‘I never realised you all had different coloured irises.’ You beamed before turned your attention to the silent man's eyes; they were a stunning amber, flecks of gold run through them, along with burnt oranges and saffrons.’ You smiled ‘Your eyes are beautiful.’

The group smiles vanished, replaced by shocked stares. You blinked quickly, eyes snapping from Witcher to Witcher. You had never meant a Witcher before; it had never occurred to you that they may have some kind of etiquette to them. From the tales that spread across the temple, they fought hard and played harder, any coined they earnt was spent on wine and women, they didn’t seem the kind of people easily offended.

Pursuing your lips in a quick apology they stopped as the Witcher’s lips twitched into something resembling a strained smile, it looked neither happy or unhappy just impassive.

‘People linked by destiny will always find each other.’ The man grunted, his bulky form vibrating at the sound.

A shiver through her body and to her core at the sound of his gruff tone. Immediately, your hand flew to cover your forearm, where your mark was held, just above the artery to her heart, in fear that your gauntlet had come off. The gauntlet that had covered your arm the last 50 years, shielding the mark from the world and you. The man's eyes didn’t leave yours as your thoughts raced a thousand miles a minute. The feeling you felt were conflicted, guilt for not find him sooner, for finding him and shattering what he had already made of his life. Happiness at not being alone, soulmates were meant to compliment the other physically and mentally, to meld into one to create the most potent force, unstoppable. A magnetism pulled you to him, powerful and commanding.

‘By the gods…. I never thought you would hear your word Geralt. You have no idea how much shit I used to give him about those words. Beautiful eyes….huh this grumpy bastard.’ The drunken Jarl boomed.

The other Witchers laughed and raised their drink; however, the ashen haired women observed you curiously, through light green eyes, cat-like, only distracted when behind you a couple of warriors began to brawl causing a chain reaction. Within seconds the whole room erupted in chaos, beer and mead splashed against the walls, teeth spilt out across the floor and the sound of flesh against flesh cracked across the room. Blade where unsheathed and the clash of metal pierced the air. By the time Ciri’s eyes came back to find you, you were gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The roar of the fight had long ago since died down and the roar of laughed was once again back. Your feet aimlessly wandered the castle for the last hour; you weren’t really sure where or what you were doing, the only thing you could hear was his voice repeating your words over and over, like honeyed silk in your head. You never thought he would be this attractive, tanned marble skin paired with white hair pinned back revealing chiselled features. His body was 6ft5 of honed muscle, and in his armour, he was more than impressive, no wonder he was a favourite among the Valkyrie’s.

‘You know I’m not going to let you leave. Not till you let me ride Slugger. I don’t think Geralt would either, but I think he has a rather different idea of riding.’ Ciri’s voice cut through the chilly night air.

The young women sat cross-legged on a bench at the end of the hall. You stood hesitantly lingering in the middle of the hall observing her; she was expressive and kind, her face told everything. It was a gorgeous face, but her eyes were the main feature, framed in thick charcoal, with a smoky eye effect.

‘I never believed it when Crach said a Valkyrie had Geralt words. Apparently, your High Priestess is important to get you bonded.  Had to see it myself, never thought you would be so cool. Is that really a G'valchir sword- I heard they penetrated anything.’

‘It is, and it does. I'll let you practice with it later…perhaps we can spare tomorrow morning.’ You smiled tightly, coming closer.

‘I don’t think Geralt going to be letting you leave that room anytime soon. Don’t worry Crach removed everyone from this wing. I don’t think he wanted a raging Witcher roaming the halls. It's going to fun having you to hang around with.’ Ciri giggled, hopping off the bench and out the window.

The world had lost all normality. This morning you where a wandering Valkyrie, burden with aiding an uneven war and now you were confused. It couldn't be real, just some surreal daydream, fueled by a bad reaction to mead, you just need to sleep and tomorrow would back to normal. Soulbond forgotten. Pushing your way into your room, you fell against the back of the door and let out a puff of breath, as you removed your breastplate and threw it onto the bed, rolling your neck, groaning as you felt the stratifying clicks and began to unbuttoning your undershirt. Only stopping when you saw a mans armour on the dresser.

‘I thought you were going to run away, though I was going to have to track you down….I am a little disappointed not to have a hunt. I think that would start my rut off.’

Geralt of Rivia was lounging on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire, shirt half-open, chest hair teasingly peaking out from a rock hard chest, just as tanned as his face. Why was he in your room?

‘What…What are you doing here? These are my rooms.’

‘Hmmm,’ The Witcher grunted.

You stood in silence for several more minutes, his eyes hungrily devouring you, his predator eyes taking in every inch of you, his head tilted to the side, giving you a beautiful view of his neck. Perfect to bite, to suck, to mark. You could feel a familiar tingle travel through her body; wetness pooled between your thighs as gazed down at him. You wanted to say something, anything, but every time you opened your mouth, no words would form.

Swallowing hard, you spoke. ‘What are you doing in my room.’

‘Our rooms. Crach had my things moved in while we were at the feast. Think he thought it was more…. convenient.’ The Witcher smirked as he raised himself up on one arm.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I stopped running. You can’t outrun destiny just because you’re terrified of it. I was coming for you. I have always been coming for you.’ Geralt purred, standing elegantly, his full height was impressive and intimidating, he crossed the room in two long strides.

You scrabbled across the bed and darted across to the fireplace. Now the light was to the back of you; his features were more prominent, highlighted by the flickering flames, that licked up the fireplace. Geralt’s shirt was now fully open, revealing the sheer power of his chest, perfectly toned by battles and training, the odd scar decorated his body. No wonder he was so converted, your sisters were going to be green with envy when they found out he was yours.

‘I…. We…You’

Before you mouth could catch up with your mind, you found yourself pin to the furs that laid across the floor in front of the blazing fire. The Witcher hovered over you, eyes searching your face, his large hands gripping your hips as the rest of his length held your body in place. Without hesitation, you curled your legs across his thighs and twisted, switching your position, your knees stretched to pin his hips to the floor, it was an easy advantage, from here you could place pressure on his weak point and for a brief moment escape. As you moved back, though the flimsiness of your riding pants you could fill his hardness pressing against your wet core. You had never felt anything close to this pleasure  from the briefest contact. You had tried to bring your self through the heats, the touches where only enough to stave off the pain for a short while, necessary but not pleasurable.

Biting your soft plush lip, you attempted to hold back a groan, as you moved again. Your grip loosened as you caught yourself gentle grinding against the Witcher. His hands slowly travelled up your thighs to rest on your round bottom, pushing his chest up and once against resting above her. You stared nervously up at him, all thoughts lost, he smelt like mint and spice, it overwhelms your senses. Geralt pulled back, peeling off his black undershirt and tossing it clear across the room. Your eyes following the masterpiece of his muscles as they moved. Tentatively, you let your hands brush across his skin with feathered touches, feeling his muscles tighten and relax under your fingertips.

‘I have never been with a man.’ Y/N gasped.

What sounded like a growl feel from his lips, as he kissed his way down your body ‘You are mine’ Kiss. ‘You are only ever gonna be mine’ Kiss. ‘ To kiss, to make love to, to fuck, suck,’ Kiss ‘to finger and touch’ Kiss ‘to tease and bring to the brink of ruination.’Kiss ‘Just like I am yours.’

The sight of the golden skin man between your legs was too much as sight to believe, his amber eyes pinned you to the plush fur as his rough fingers tore into the weak fabric of your cotton trousers. The sounds of ripping fabric were deafening and you couldn’t help but let a bright red blush as he caressed your features. No mortal man had ever seen you this bare, the only thing that covered you modestly was a pare of heeled riding boot and a half-opened shirt. Geralt made quick work of the boots, sliding them off your calf letting his fingers massage them and he removed them one by one, throwing them over his shoulder.

The Witcher shifted slowly pulling himself up your body; his eyes were dark with desire, he looked prima. The intensity of his look made you shift away, backwards, into the mound of pillows, the ashen haired man did not climb all the way up to you; instead his torso pinned your hips to the mattress, his strong hands shooting out to encircle your forearms pushing the down onto the bed, totally disabling any chance you had of escaping him. Geralt amber irises completely consumed black with lust eyes turned away from her a began to mouth any piece of skin he could, his hot tongue gliding across her flesh, teeth nipping and gnarling as he went. It was so gentle yet possessive; he groaned as he sucked the plump flesh of her stomach. Geralt nuzzled at you stomach before looking at her, directly into your eyes. You held his gaze, staring into the depths, of the emotion swirling in his honeyed orbs. Angry. Passion. Fear…Love. The outburst of raw emotion was unexpected; it made him look…vulnerable. Something you neer thought a Witcher to be.

Your lump pink lips parted to speak but instead he pulled hoarse cry from your throat instead. His free hand found your most sensitive area, your clit, swirling in the wetness that had already pooled between her legs. It was slow and playful as the tip of your finger mischievously teased your opening. It was a curious feeling, the need for something, anything was unfamiliar and terrifying, to yearn for something this badly. His middle finger sank down into your core. Bliss. It was a totally new sensation; a moan escaped your lips as his mouth suckling on your breast as his thumb teased your clit. Breathy moans escaped your mouth as he withdraw his finger almost entirely before plunging it back in, it was frantic, you felt raw with the to sensation it has made you slick and pliant to him, something he took complete advantage of. After a few more thrusts another finger curled within you, almost hitting the spot within you, the spot you knew he could feel. The stretch felt strange at; first; his fingers were large and thick, almost too much but still, you wanted more, something to build the burning arch that roared inside you. He shifted a little so he was on his side, still pinning you down with his body, angling his hand for better thrusts, his other hand still gripping your forearm, as your hand searched for anything to hold, something to ground you from the feeling bubbling under your skin. Finally, after what seemed like an age, her slender fingers found his muscly shoulders, she could feel his muscles flex beneath her fingertips as they dug into him.

‘Geralt!’ The tension in your stomach was close to breaking; you could feel it splintering at the force of his actions.

The Witcher rose on his knees taking in your flustered form, a panting mess beneath him. He shed his leather pants so quickly your eyes could not follow his movements. Now he was bare, a true warrior, all muscles and scars. You wanted to spend day upon days worships his body in the old ways, to guide him to the peak of divine pleasure but now his body caged you to the floor, as his black orbs swirled with lust.

His hard member rested heavily against you, thick and throbbing, he said nothing but slowly sank it deep into you with a swift and strong thrust. A feral groaned grunted through clenched teeth as his eyes fell closed, basking in the tight warmth that surrounded him. The pain was pierced through you; he was so thick you though he had split you in half, instinctively you tried to move away, to shift away from the dull pain but his hips kept you in place.

‘Breath…’ Geralt gritted out through clenched teeth. ‘Tell me to stop and I will’ The rough voice of the Witcher broke out in heavy puff, as he rested his forehead against you.

The pain subsided quickly to an ache, a need for you to move. Raising your hips, you felt Geralt shift, pulling back slightly and pushing back in, shallow thrusts hitting the sweetest spots. Wanton moans spurred Geralt, his hips picking up pace and force, withdrawing fully before slamming into you again.

A thin sheen of sweat covered your bodies, moans and grunts filled the room as the fire illuminated them, glancing down you watched with fascination as his cock pushed its way into her tight walls, it was the single most erotic thing you had ever seen. Geralt's thrusts became stronger and stronger, more iritic and with each movement inched you closer and closer to your release.

‘Geralt….’ Your eyes found his as you pleaded.

The Witcher shifted his weight on his elbow as he sank close, his cock grinding against your sweet spot, his free hand moving between your bodies to frantically play with your clit. His pace increased, desperate and needy as he chased their release. Your moans turned into screams as you felt the warmth fizzle in your stomach.

‘Yesssss, Gods, please….Geralt’ Your voice released a hoarse scream as your orgasm rolled through you. Above you, you felt his hips stutter into you, as his teeth bite down into you shoulder and his cock slammed into you once last time as he poured his seed into you.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You awoke sometime later to find Geralt tracing the word on your arm, lazily. Contented eyes smiled up at you; his hair ruffled up in pleasant bed head.

‘Mmmmm this is nice’ you hummed and snuggled into him. ‘Things are going to get complicated now aren’t they.’ You sighed tucking you head onto his chest.

‘Hmmmmm’ Geralt grunted wrapping his arms around you, tightly.

Requests are open!

[toastandfanfic]

Okay so I wrote this last weekend, before the last episode aired and it took me a while to get it into shape because real life stuff takes precedence..and yeah...I’m still not sure about this instalment in the “Daisuke and Suzue when they were young” but here it is...

When September Ends

“Why do I have to go?” he asked resentfully.

His mood had already been low when he’d seen that his grandmother had ordered a traditional Japanese breakfast, natto included.

“Because you are in effect head of the main family and people will expect us to be there for the memorial tribute. As future heir, it is important that you understand your duties towards the Kambe group and its employees,” his grandmother answered calmly.

He looked at Suzue who was quietly eating her breakfast. He knew that she disliked natto just as much as he did.

“Are you going?”

The moment he said it, he knew it was absolutely the wrong thing to say. She actually halted in the act of eating, the rice on her chopsticks precariously balanced. He was just about to apologise for his thoughtlessness (apologising did not come easy to him but knowing he had hurt her was even worse), but Suzue spoke first.

“Of course I will be there.”

She didn’t say anything else. She also seemed to ignore him from then on.

All the way to the Kambe corporate headquarters, where the ceremony was to be held, he tried to think of ways to get her to engage with him.  Tongue-tied and not knowing how to make things better (or at least the way they were before he opened his stupid mouth this morning), he slowly came to resent Suzue’s aloof attitude. (At sixteen, he still had ways to go to understand all the many feelings this girl stirred in him.)

How dare she act so cold towards him, he thought as they got out of the car. How dare she make him feel this bad about what he said this morning. How dare she make it so hard to apologise because he would have but she hadn’t let him because she hadn’t even looked at him since breakfast. (On and on these thoughts went in his head as he was forced to interact with the many people who were there for the ceremony.)

“Yeah, that’s the head engineer’s daughter. The Kambes have adopted her,” someone whispered behind him.

“There are worse things than being adopted into one of the richest families in the world,” someone whispered back, for which they got immediately scolded.

“Hush you. I don’t think all the money in the world could make up for losing your parent in such a horrible way,” the first voice whispered back.

Daisuke tuned them out, focusing his attention on Suzue. She sat alone amongst the other family members of the employees who had died alongside her father in the laboratory accident one year ago.

All the resentment that had been building up in him evaporated. And he remembered that feeling he had the first time he’d met her - of knowing what it’s like to be alone.

All throughout the ceremony he watched her. He watched her pale, solemn face and saw not one single tear roll down her face. And he remembered too that he had not cried for his parents after their funeral.

—

He tried to stay out of sight, keeping his distance, ready to duck behind a gravestone if needed.

He felt a bit silly, of course, but he hadn’t been invited and he didn’t want Suzue to be angry at him. (Since his parents deaths, there were very few people whose opinion mattered to him. At sixteen, he did not really understand why he cared that Suzue was not speaking to him. What he did know was it made him feel awful and he wanted the awful feeling to go away.)

She’d stopped in front of gravestone, and even from his distance, he could clearly read her father and mother’s name on it.

When he thought it was safe, he moved closer, crouching behind a tall stone. He knew he was intruding (knew too that if it had been him visiting his parents’ graves, he would have absolutely hated being followed). But somehow, he felt it was vital that he was here. (It would take him a long time to understand why he’d felt that way on that day.)

He realised that Suzue was speaking to her parents.

“They are very kind to me. I’m very lucky that…that they took me in. The chairwoman…she wants me to call her grandmother, you know? She’s not as scary as I thought she would be…but sometimes…oh and Master Daisuke, he’s…he’s…”

His heart began to beat a little faster. He strained to hear very single word.

She laughed, “He’s a boy, you know?”

He scowled at that, almost stepping out from his hiding place.

“Sometimes…sometimes… I think he’s just very sad…he plays the piano, just like you did, Mama. I like it when he plays. But I’m not supposed to let him know that I’m listening…the servants say he doesn’t like it when people listen…I wish…I wish I could play the piano…I wish you could have taught me, Mama.”

He hadn’t know that she’d heard him play. He did it very rarely since his parents’ deaths and always making sure no one else was around.

“I miss you, Mama, Papa. I wish you were still here…” Suzue’s voice broke and suddenly he could not bear it.

She started when he handed her his handkerchief.

“What…what are you doing here?” she asked, wiping at the tears running down her cheek. She ignored the cloth in his hand.

This made him angry because…(well, at sixteen his emotions were still often raw and volatile and it was frankly baffling to him how he could go from feeling like he absolutely needed to take care of Suzue to wanting to stomp away from her in a strop. Of course, adult Daisuke would often think of that young boy and wonder how Suzue hadn’t simply punched him a few times when he’d been at his absolutely worst.)

“Never mind,” he replied gruffly and walked away. He didn’t turn to look if she was following him (but was disappointed when he reached his waiting car to see that she hadn’t.)

— He was roaming the mansion, unable to sleep. Eventually, he was drawn to the music room, a place rarely visited anymore during the day time. The piano was always dust free and tuned.

He played the bits of pieces he knew from memory, different composers blending into each other as his muscle memory took over and his mind was still, simply floating in the notes.

He always forgot how much he missed this, how happily he had sat  here as a child, learning to play the instrument, practicing his favourite pieces (because they were his mother’s and his father’s favourite pieces.) How easily he had forgotten the warmth and security he had felt, in the embrace of these familiar melodies (in the loving presence of his parents.)

He played until his hands and arms felt tired. As the last note rang out, vibrating in the air, he felt wrung out, emptied of everything that he’d kept inside so tightly all of the time (he often pretended that he wasn’t keeping anything inside).

“You play beautifully,” a quiet voice said from the shadows.

He almost laughed, thinking it was only fair that she’d spy on him, after what he’d done earlier. But he was exhausted, all he could do was grunt.

Tensing, she said, “Well…goodnight then, Master Daisuke,” turning to leave.

Something almost like panic gripped him then (he didn’t understand why, only that he needed to act.)

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“What for?”

Everything, nothing. He didn’t know how to explain.

“It’s hard…isn’t it? Being alone?” (He wondered if he was asking the question to himself.)

She looked at him for a long time (all day he had wanted her to look at him and now he was afraid of what she’d see.)

Then something softened about her. “It is hard…I miss them every day…but…but I don’t think I am alone.”

(At sixteen he did not know what to say to that. Neither at seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…indeed, not until very much later did he truly understand what she had meant that night.)

And because he he didn’t know, he said the only thing he felt safe to say. “Goodnight, Suzue.”

“Goodnight, Daisuke.”

(He would find himself playing the piano more often from then on, but still only at night when he knew there would be no audience…or at least only one person, whose presence he never minded.)

-tbc-

other parts in this series

The First Time (I Ever Saw Your Face)

Everywhere You Go

There are two more ficlets planned for this series...and one of them is going to be more than just PG...

[drethanramslay]

Chapter 1

Pairing: Cassian X MC (for this chapter)

Warning: Light swearing and check out this post to know how we are gonna go about this mini series 😊

Word count: 3K

Taglist: @choices-love-affair @miyakokurono @openheart12 @trappedinfandoms @noboundariesplease @nooruleman @madampugzalot @sekizincimektup @dailydoseofchoices @choicesfanaf @choiceskaavya @junggoku @flyawayboo @whatchique @vampiregirlsblog (let me know if you want to added or removed from the taglist 😊)

Songs: Heartless by The Weeknd

I love parties.

What is not to love? The free buffet of food, drinks and woman can make a guy’s day. I had got off work and was hella tired but, at the same time, I was in a celebratory mood. I had just returned from the Caribbean, finishing another WITSEC case, with the witness returned to his family. The reunion was so emotional and the mom made me sit down and eat with them.

There was so much love there and it made me feel like an outsider. I’m still unfamiliar with ‘love’ as a concept. Be it, familial or romantic. It’s foreign to me.

My mom died from a robbery gone wrong when I was just 8 years. My dad raised me after my mom died. He used to be so busy and I think I know why. He was grieving and he threw himself into work so that it could reduce the burden on his heart. But, he didn’t make me feel neglected. He loved me and I often used to think of him as a superhero. The Sunday’s where we would play ball in the park are one of the many good memories I have of him.

He passed away when I was 13 years and it was the worst phase in my life. I don’t know why, but nobody was ready to adopt me or foster me so I was thrown into an orphanage.

It was hell on earth.

The kids there were so primal and aggressive. Regular fights would break out and I swear they were so crazy that it seemed like one of the kids would die. I had to sleep with an eye open all the time.

It was a very dingy and dark place. Water supply and living accommodation sucked. But at least, the school I went to was good. At the age of 15, I swore to study so hard that I could get out of the country.

I mean, Kenmare had its pretty sites and wonderful views but when it’s dark, all the monsters come out.

I got into the army as soon as I graduated high school. It wasn’t much but at least I didn’t have to go to bed with an empty stomach. I started saving up money by doing odd jobs so that I could collect enough to get into a university in the States.

So, I slogged my ass and got a scholarship to Boston University. I packed my bags and never looked back at my fucked up childhood. I worked on re-inventing me. I was no longer the scrawny and scared 16 year old, but I was the 20 year old heart throb, Cassian Keane.

I always wanted to get into law enforcement. Think of it like a tribute to my mom. I don’t remember much but I can remember some memories. Like how she loved baking and singing songs as she worked in the house. I do remember that she loved me so much.

But, the one thing I’ve learnt is that, you should learn from the past but not hold on to it. I wouldn’t have ever moved on if I kept on crying about how life treated me.

Just shove it in a safe and don’t open it.

As the lift soared to the terrace level I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head of all the thoughts running in my head.

The lift dinged and I opened my eyes.

Show time, Keane.

——————————————————————————————————–

It was a high profile party. I did see a couple of actors and CEO’s of various companies. They were all chatting animatedly and drinking expensive champagne in crystal flutes.

A band was playing lively music which could be heard through the speakers and the entire terrace was decorated with fairy lights. I was on the 60th floor and I could clearly see the sun glinting over the the bay, making the water sparkle and glimmer.

In short the area was sophisticated as fuck.

And I couldn’t help but feel out of place. I usually play off all my discomfort with my nonchalance but still no matter how much I pretend, I know that this is not my scene.

I took the overpriced whiskey which the waiters were serving and my eyes roamed around the party, observing the people, the place and the closest exit. It had become like a second nature. Observe, map the area and stay alert.

As my eyes wandered, it locked on to the most gorgeous blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. She was standing there chatting with a friend. Her luscious shiny brown locks fell over her shoulder as she laughed at something the other person said.

She was wearing a red number, which fit her like a second skin, making all the curves prominent. She had a great ass, not gonna lie. And her skin… It was caramel in colour and under the setting sun, she looked exotic.

In short one of the most beautiful creatures God had made on this earth. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I could see the friend leaning in to tell something to her and at that moment her cerulean eyes met mine.

And it seemed like the world stopped.

People disappeared until it was just me and her.

She gave a confident smile and I swear my heart dropped.

She headed inside and I followed her, like a sailor to a siren.

It wasn’t really hard to find her among the crowd near the bar. Almost all eyes were on her, stunned by her sphere of prettiness. You really needed to be blind to ignore such a beauty.

By the time I reached her, I could hear the sleazeball of a bartender shamelessly hitting on her. The jealousy that I felt made me uneasy but, I shrugged it off.

What would I know about that anyway?

I saw the discomfort and the scowl on her face. She was struggling to keep him at bay so I decided to step in.

I mean, who doesn’t love a knight in the shining armor?

Smoothly cutting in, I spoke in a playful voice, “Did I hear that right? The barkeep’s giving away drinks for a kiss? Sounds like something the whole bar would want to know.”

The barkeep’s face turned red. “It’s not an open invitation.” He replied curtly.

“Or a welcome one for that matter.” The beautiful woman responded, her eyes swirling with anger.

“Then it’s only fair her drink should be free of cost to make up for the..” I leaned forward on my elbows and gave him a chilling stare. “…inconvenience.”

Grumbling he gave me the drinks and went back to his work. I turned to look at her, and gave her lopsided grin.

“You know, I don’t need saving.” She said as she leaned on the bar. I knew that she was going to say that.

I lifted my hands in fake surrender. “I just came here to get a free drink.” I had perfected the art of flirtation and with a little smoldering gaze,any woman could fall for me.

She giggled and took the glass from me, her fingers tracing the ridges if my knuckles.

“I must say, you’ve got great taste in uisce beatha. Most people around here think Irish whiskey is something they put in their coffee.” I said as I took a sip of the smokey whiskey.

“Thanks, I know. That’s why I ordered it.”

I chuckled lowly and shook my head at her feisty nature. She was something, all right. Clinking my glass to hers, I said, “Slainte. Here’s to you knowing exactly what you like.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked at me and I swear, it felt like she could see through my soul.

“It makes things much more efficient. There’s no point in wasting time when you know what you want.”

With that, she waved a waiter over and took a honeyed cream puff off their appetizer tray, grabbing a second to hold out to me.

“For example, I love sweet things.”

Smirking, I took the puff on a napkin and pulled it towards me. “Thanks. It seems you live in the right place. Though I’d prefer some hole in the wall fish n’ chips over the fancy stuff any day.”

And that’s the truth. The amount of money spent on this overrated cream puff could get me some delicious take out and cheap beer.

She bit into the pastry slowly, letting the tiniest bit of cream coat her lips before you suck your bottom lip to remove it. My eyes flickering on to the luscious red lips which were teasing me and slowly arousing me.

God, I want to bite that lip.

“I prefer finding the best of the best. The challenge makes it more enjoyable.” She gave a catty smile.

She is one vixen.

“Sounds like I could learn a lot from you.” I spoke in a husky voice and I saw her eyes dilate.

“Maybe. But right now I was hoping you’d tell me your name.” She asked, as she twirled her finger around the rim of her glass.

“Cassian. What’s yours?”

“Adira.” Her name just rolled out of your mouth like honey.

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” I took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. I heard the sharp intake of her breath.

She is so responsive… Wonder how would she responds when I have her naked underneath me…

“Well, Adira… it was lovely to meet you. I’ll let you get back to enjoying the rest of your night.”

I wasn’t actually going to vanish but, gotta keep the ladies wanting more.

But what she did next, surprised me.

She snaked an arm out, and slid her dainty fingers through one of my belt loops, using it to pull me closer to her. I raised an eyebrow and she just smirked.

“Not so fast. I’m not letting you go without a dance.”

Giving her my signature lopsided smile I help my hand out to her. “I’m starting to get the feeling that I couldn’t refuse you anything. Lead the way, Adira.”

——————————————————————————————————–

The phone rang at an ungodly hour and I groaned.

I reached all around and finally found it amidst the tangled sheet. The bed was empty and it wasn’t much of a surprise but it kinda made me crave her.

She was amazing and the sex we had was mind blowing. I think she is the first person to step a foot inside my house. And she definitely was the first person to whom I submitted.

There were so many 'firsts’ last night and that just made me wonder if that was the end of our story.

Maybe I might drop a text…

“Yup?”

“Hey Keane. We have a new case for you. How long will you be here in?” Tomas spoke into the phone.

“Is there coffee and donuts from 'Dunkin Donuts’?” I said as I sat up, rubbing my eyes and eyeing the alarm clock on the bedside table.

4:45 am.

“Obviously Cassian. What do you think I am? An immature?"I swear, I could hear Tomas roll his eyes through the phone.

Smiling, I headed to the washroom to get on with my morning chores.

"I’ll be there in ten.”

——————————————————————————————————–

I got my steaming hot cup of coffee and poured two spoons of sugar in them before stirring.

“What you got there, Marshall Keane?” A bright eyed police officer eyed my cup. “Is it Irish coffee?”

I threw my head back and laughed at the stereotype. “It’s black coffee. Rookie, just because I’m Irish doesn’t mean I am every stereotype you have seen in your life.”  I patted his back and headed towards my office.

It was definitely an upgrade from my cramped up desk. I could sit back and kick up my legs without anyone saying anything. I had my space and I could relax without anyone, figuratively and literally, breathing down my neck.

And I could see it in Tomas’s eyes, the itch to promote me. My back to back successes in the recent cases and the huge underground drug bust I led, it was no surprise. I just knew that he would give me a promotion and I honestly, could not wait.

I loved my job and took it very seriously.

I found Tomas standing in, through the window and I entered. “Good morning, sir. What’s up?” I asked as I leaned against my desk.

“Well, we found a person who witnessed the murder of Sean Kelly by the O'Connell’s.” He said as he turned towards me, face grave.

“Shit. Is the witness okay?” I said as I picked up the file he had kept on my table.

“Yeah… I made Miss Lockhart familiar with the gravity of the situation. She is going into WITSEC and this is your case. This witness could help us in cracking the case wide open and we can finally arrest Killian and Maeve.” As he stepped out of the office and I fell in step with him.

I opened the case file and found what all they had got on the redheads. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

“Your witness is in my office and you are the lead in this case. You both will be shifting to Nantucket for the summer until the heat dies down here and we can get enough evidence. Then, we will get her to testify.” We turned and walked down the hallway to his office and I saw Nwosu grumbling in his office.

“What’s up Nwosu’s ass?” I asked with an amused grin.

“That would be the witness. She cussed him out in front of the entire precinct. She is a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I will just check upon the living accommodation for the two of you.” Tomas said as he headed in the opposite direction. I chuckled as I knocked on the door.

“Miss Lockhart. This is US Marshall Keane. I will be working your case with Tomas.”

As she opened the door to his office the smile that was playing on my lips died down when I saw my witness.

It was Adira.

“Cassian? You are a US Marshall?” She exclaimed.

I immediately shut the door behind me and she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

“Shit. Adira I thought I would never see you again… Are you okay?” I asked.

“Y-yeah.. I just changed into the clothes they gave me and I- I dyed my hair platinum blonde.” She said as she consciously ran her hand through the silky short locks.

“You look magnificent.” I smiled at her, as I took in the floral dress and the new hairdo.

“And you look hot in that uniform. You almost make me wish I had stayed back for a round two.”

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall. “I was hoping you would have stayed back for much more.”

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks. She looked up through her eyelashes. “Your mouth is nothing but trouble, Cassian Keane.”

I was going to respond but the phone rang, breaking us from our reverie. I ran my hand through my hair, and patted the man bun, trying to get my cool together.

“Okay Adira. I have been assigned lead on your case. It’s my chance at a huge promotion. Tomas is my supervisor and if he found out we knew each other…”

Adira’s eyes widened. “He would take you off the case?!”

“Yeah. If we were involved in any way, I’d be considered compromised. And who knows when I’d get another shot at this.” I have her my best puppy eyes expression, hoping that she understood where I was coming from.

“I know this is a lot to ask but, can you keep our history a secret?”

Her eyes turned cold and suddenly it looked like I was looking at a different person. “I don’t think it will be that easy.”

My eyes widened. The hell?

“You purposefully hid the truth from me and now you want to act as if what we had was nothing? Don’t you think it seems a little too convenient from my view?”

“Adira- Fuck it was everything to me but your life and my job is on the line! Can’t you understand?” I said.

She rolled her eyes as she looked down on her manicure, bored. “Fine. I will believe you. I will keep your secret, but you owe me.”

Tomas entered the office with a cheerful grin. “Everything good? Did you both get acquainted with each other?”

With glimmering blue eyes she sent a smile towards Tomas’s direction. “Yeah.. Feels like I have known him for a long time.”

A startled choking noise emerged from me, which I quickly covered up with a cough.

And at that point, all I could think of was, how truly fucked I was.

How the hell am i going to survive this summer?

hello hello we back at it again😎

the first two to three chapters will be similar to what pb put up so that we can get a feel of the premise

like, comment and reblog:))

[buffyversefanfiction]

Buffy versus The Originals

Warnings: I do not own nor claim to own the copyrights to the following tv shows; “Buffy the vampire slayer”, “Angel”, “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries”. Nor do I claim to own any canonical continuation via comics, spin-off televisions and such. I do not claim to own any of the characters within either the Buffyverse or the TVDverse, I am purely doing this for non-profit as a fan of both worlds and fanfiction itself.

15 Plus: May contain medium to graphic displays of violence and torture, displays of witchcraft practice, horror elements, supernatural elements, sexual innuendos, and scenes of a sexual nature.

F/F, F/M, M/M, GEN + OTHER

Preliminary Round: Part One

Buffy Summers managed to stop yet another apocalypse not that there was ever any doubt that she would win, she always wins. Although, to be fair this time around her hometown of Sunnydale was destroyed during the big battle and what once was a beautiful Californian town looked like nothing more than a tribute to the Grand Canyon leaving Buffy and her friends homeless.

Luckily, the blonde-haired vampire slayer knew of a certain vampire with a soul called Angel who happened to live in a semi-decaying hotel located in Los Angeles, and after a quick and awkward phone call with the vampire she once loved Buffy, her friends, her loved ones, and her fellow slayers made their way to L.A. to seek refuge with Angel and his team at the Hyperion Hotel.

Angel well and truly had his hands full at the Hyperion Hotel after rejecting Wolfram and Hart’s offer, his city always kept him busy with its many supernatural creatures, but he also had the complicated mission of trying to wake the woman he loved from her supernaturally influenced coma.

So, when Buffy, his former love, called him up looking for a place to stay briefly he was more than willing to oblige, hoping Buffy and her team could help in waking Cordy up.

Cordelia Chase had gone from being a spoiled rich girl at Sunnydale High School, to the vision’s girl at Angel Investigations to a half human, half demon, hybrid that found herself getting possessed by a rogue member of the powers that be called Jasmine, the latter using a magical pregnancy to give birth to herself, sending Cordy into a coma shortly after giving birth. 

Cordelia was the heart of Angel Investigations and it was struggling to operate without her, her friends and loved ones, were struggling to cope without her and so, Angel, Wesley, Fred, and Gunn were more than thrilled to have guests at the hotel who could lend a helping hand.

Faith Lehane had also gone through many changes herself, going from being a rogue slayer pitting herself up against Buffy, to finding redemption with the help and patience of Angel. So, after becoming Buffy’s ally once again, and helping her defeat the first in Sunnydale, the brunette Boston born slayer was more than happy to check into the Hyperion Hotel and catch up with her old friend Angel, especially after hearing the tall, dark, and handsome, vampire with a soul, needed help in waking Cordelia from a coma.

Buffy, Angel, and both their teams, sure proved to be the big help that Angel Investigations needed with the night-to-night hunting, and patrolling, however, the mission to awake Cordelia Chase struggled to pick up momentum which Cordelia herself began to grow impatient about as her fragmented spirit began appearing to them all frequently, complaining, and eager to get back into her comatose body.

Willow Rosenberg searched every grimoire, book, and magic shop to find a magical solution to Cordelia’s coma until eventually she came up with the idea to cast a spell which would not only summon Cordelia’s spirit but would force said spirit to return to her body. The spell in question required a non-beating heart, horns from a near extinct demonic species, and the translation of a long-forgotten language.

Willow waited for a reasonably quiet night to perform the spells she believed would bring Cordelia back to her body, waiting until it was just her, Buffy, Angel, and Faith in the hotel and gathered them all within the grand foyer of the hotel, as they each sat down on the floor in a circle, while Willow held a book in her hands, ready to cast her magic, ready to bring Cordelia Chase back.

The first spell to summon Cordelia’s spirit was performed, cast, and executed to perfection by the brilliant red headed wonder witch, however, the second spell to return Cordelia to her comatose body went a little awry as Willow accidentally opened a portal to a whole other dimension, a portal which wound up pulling Cordelia’s spirit into, as well as Buffy, Angel, and Faith before closing itself and leaving Willow completely alone, and without any idea of where they went, or how to get her friends back.

“Way to go Wills, now where the hell did, she send us this time?” Faith wondered as she, Buffy, Angel, and Cordelia found themselves, picking themselves up off the ground within the bayou in New Orleans late at night, each of them completely confused as to where Willow’s spell had sent them to. “I think it is safe to say we’re definitely not at the Hyperion Hotel, and knowing our luck we’re probably not even in Los Angeles.” Buffy replied to her, as she looked around the bayou, attempting to piece together where they were. “Hey! I’m back to being solid again!” Cordelia screeched with excitement as she threw her arms around Angel and pulled him in for a hug, the two of them equally as excited to see and feel each other once again. “Enough of the sickeningly sweet reunion time, we all know what happens when you get happy Angel.” Faith warned Angel, as she pulled him out of Cordelia’s arms, eagerly breaking off their hug. “You’ll lose your soul, then Cordy becomes food to soulless you, and me and B wind up tossing a coin to see which slayer takes you down this time around. “Well at least Willow’s spell to put you back in your body clearly worked.” Buffy stated to Cordelia, before the questioning slayer turned her attention to Angel. “You did not store her body in the woods, did you?” “No, I never!” Angel denied nervously, as he noticed a disapproving glare from Cordelia. “Not like you can blame him if he did, I mean maybe the big man’s still a little pissed about you bumping uglies with his son, I mean did you not used to change his diapers?” Faith teased Cordelia, more than happy to stir the pot between Cordelia and Angel. “Firstly, that was some wacky super powered bitch called Jasmine who not only hijacked my body but got me pregnant just to give birth to herself. Secondly, I would never sleep with his son when not possessed…stupid rogue powers that be hussy!” Cordelia snapped back at Faith, clearly disgusted. “I swear those powers that be can go straight to hell!” “As fun as this is, how about we change the topic and find a way back to the hotel?” Angel suggested to the women, more than eager to change the conversation about his son Connor’s past with the woman he loved. “Yeah, I don’t really want to hear about my ex’s love triangle with my high school classmate and his adult son.” Buffy agreed with the brooding vampire. “Straight to hell, you hear me?” Cordelia screamed upwards towards the clouds, hoping the powers that be were listening and heard her fury. As the foursome decided to explore their whereabouts it did not take them very long to find their way out of the bayou and learn that they were in the city of New Orleans, the only thing they did not know was the fact that they were no longer in their world, they were now in the Mikaelsons’ world…

Preliminary Round: Part Two

Josh Rosza had been through a lot since turning into a vampire, going from being a club kid turned vampire to best friend to the young harvest witch Davina Claire to the boyfriend of werewolf Aiden, but the hardest change in his life that he had to adjust to was losing his first love at the hands of a wicked witch called Dahlia, a loss that at first he blamed Klaus Mikaelson for.

Josh was never particularly popular with any of the original family of vampires and neither did he want to be, knowing all too well that friends of the Mikaelson siblings tended to quickly turn into foes before winding up permanently dead at their hands but all that had changed over the last few months following the notorious family defeating Dahlia.

Following Camille O Connell’s unexpected departure from New Orleans, Josh had managed to take over her job bartending at Rousseau’s which meant dealing with all kinds of clientele including none other than the hybrid Klaus Mikaelson himself, who had become a regular while drowning his sorrows every night since Cami had left.

Fear was quickly taken over by fascination as Josh’s reluctance to grow close to any original began to dwindle as friendship quickly grew between Josh and Klaus, a friendship which had started out with two lonely hearts before developing into something much deeper, a bond truly cherished by them both.

Klaus Mikaelson tended not to make friends easily mostly due to the fact he did not want to and even when the original hybrid did make the occasional friend it was never too long before he either watched them be murdered or they displeased him in some kind of way leading to him killing them.

However, following Cami’s decision to leave New Orleans behind for good, the fact Hayley Marshall had moved away with his daughter Hope and his brother Elijah was not currently talking to him, Klaus was in need of some kind of company and he found that and more with newbie vamp turned bartender Joshua Rosza.

Klaus found himself spending more and more time with Josh as a regular at Rosseau’s until the two unlikely companions quickly found themselves developing a friendship made from two lonely hearts graduating into something deeper and before long the original hybrid would come to think of the vampire bartender as his best friend, a friendship which Klaus valued greatly and would protect at any cost.

Rebekah Mikaelson had been granted her freedom from always having to be by her brother’s side, forced to endure heartbreak after heartbreak as Klaus put his needs and wants before her own time and time again, but now she was free and yet it did not feel like it to the original female vampire.

Rebekah had been travelling the world in search of a way to bring her brother Kol back, chasing leads from her older sister Freya, hoping to find some magical remedy to restore her family, but as the months went by and the leads grew thinner the original was starting to run out of steam and her warring brothers Klaus and Elijah was doing anything but making her feel free from her family entanglements.

So, Rebekah decided it was time to pay her family a little visit to reconcile Elijah and Klaus’ brotherhood having had to step in many times before, like when they thought over Tatia then squabbled over Katherine Pierce, as the blonde haired immortal beauty just found herself being thankful that this time her brothers weren’t fighting over another bloody doppelgänger.

Elijah Mikaelson had spent a thousand years sticking by his brother Klaus’ side, cleaning up his messes, and attempting to keep the rest of his family in line but after Klaus used their aunt Dahlia to cast a werewolf curse on Hayley, the woman he loved, he was done fighting by his brother’s side and although Hayley forgave Klaus after New Orleans’ regent witch Davina Claire broke the curse, Hayley decided to move away with Hope.

Hayley Marshall still popped into New Orleans as her and Klaus shared custody over their daughter Hope but she lived there no longer and although she did not live far from the city she lived far enough away to start a new life, a life that Elijah Mikaelson was no longer a part of much to his own heartbreak.

Elijah knew he could not blame Klaus entirely for Hayley’s decision to move but he also knew the curse sure did not help things, in fact if anything he believed it determined her decision and with her now gone and Rebekah too, Elijah was running out of reasons to remain forever by Klaus’ side.

Freya Mikaelson had taken to the oldest sibling role a little far too well and she had started to feel the weight that came keeping a family like hers from killing each other. Not only did the Mikaelson witch have to play mediator between a warring Elijah and Klaus but she was also using her expertise to try and help her youngest sibling Rebekah to find a way to resurrect Kol.

Family was not Freya’s only struggle however as she tried to stop Davina Claire and her vampire father figure Marcel Gerard from declaring war on her siblings every other day, while finding unlikely common ground with Vincent Griffiths in restoring their city for the better as well as keeping her promise to her brother Finn, one that meant finding him a suitable body that would require minimal violence if possible.

Freya literally had everything on her shoulders and was trying her hardest to wear it well, so the last thing that she wanted, needed, or even expected, was the arrival of two so-called vampire slayers, a demon, and a vampire with a so-called soul.

[thessaliah]

So if Nasu is saying that Olga is "Sola's revenge" I wonder if that means Marisbury might be in Kayneth's position to some degree in that he was forced to do something he didn't want to do when Olga decided to start breaking metaphorical fingers

I don’t think is about Kayneth’s relationship with Sola, it’s about Sola. Olympus Spoilers.

Who is Sola? Is she a Master of Fate/Zero? A Servant? The Holy Grail? She tried and wanted to be a Master, but the story acknowledges Kayneth as that.  Her role was slotted on “designated haughty magus cannon fodder” who got killed off. Olga’s not so different from that role, but she got offed before that. That ask anon kind of made me think is about that. What if a cannon fodder becomes the/a main villain?

Secondly, what I was thinking is more or less what triggered them. Sola’s become twisted and need to control others because she got a taste of having power (she fell in love with Diarmuid, but rather about being just lust and love was about to control her own sexuality and love life, and control his that’s why she planned to rape him and brainwash him to love her - it was always about trampling others and putting herself on top after she’s lived subjugated to her family’s agenda). Let’s take a glimpse of Ultra Olgamarie. Her entire introduction betrays any “alien” motivation to me. She announces herself as Prime Minister of Earth and how she’ll be in charge of wiping out evil, she’s shocked someone tries to defy her. She’s someone clearly drunk of power and her own position. She claims to be a god (but Kadoc speculates that’s bullcrap), you get a scene she mutters saying “shouldn’t you be in awe/respect/fear gods”? So it looks like she’s not a real god, but uses that as a crutch for her position. Like hyper compensating for her own insignificance and regrets. That’s probably why she wants a big kaijuu body. She wants to be feared, be imposing (not be ignored and looked down). 

In other words, it’s a powertrip.

I doubt Olgamarie was respected or liked as a leader. You don’t have an “if only Olgamarie were here” as you got with Roman plenty of times. Clock Tower wanted Kirschtaria in that position of Lord of Astromancy, not Olgamarie. Turas Realta manga shows mostly all staff looked down at her and thought she was worthless as director and only got this position because of Marisbury was her father. Lev was the only one who stood up for her which explains why she got so attached and dependent on him. Roman did care but can you really say it was because of Olgamarie or because his Master was her father? Although he was the only one respecting and making a tribute to her after she died (but she didn’t know that) and now he’s gone so she wouldn’t know that.

To me, the priestess specific grudge toward Chaldea is about Olga’s feelings. Olga isn’t Kirschtaria. Olga never accepted to be director of Chaldea because she wanted to save the world or protect humanity, but because she wanted to be praised, she wanted to be liked, she wanted attention to be selfishly happy. It’s all revealed in Moonlight Lostroom. Anyway, I think that’s probably why Nasu insists Guda and Mash consider her the “director” and don’t give Goredolf this title (but he blatantly deserves it more, I feel it’s so forced and unrealistic). Because someone acknowledged her, I guess.

Furthermore this hinted potential Sin or Evil of Beast VII. It’s not confirmed but taken from Babylonia foreshadowing: 慚愧. This is regret and shame, feeling shame and remorse for your shortcomings, be actions or things you’re lacking. What if Masters. What if Histories. Hypotheticals that became real. It’s a Beast that manifested her physical form using the prosperity of lost histories that were meant to be pruned. That’s what the tree extension was: the stabilisation and prosperity of lostbelts. The priestess goes around asking the goddesses if they regret anything too. It’s also a foil and contrast to Beast I in all senses.

Because while pity and compassion from Goetia were born too of his sense of superiority and pride, it was a reaction to other people’s misfortune. This is about one’s own misfortune. Beast I incinerated the Human Order Past, and is focused on the Genesis, while this enemy bleached and ended the Human Order Future, and is called of “The end.” The past is awful because all those people died and suffered, so better burn it down and Goetia would use his body to create a new planet without this. Maybe in Beast VII’s case, the reasoning deep down is: The future is awful because she has no place in it, so better wiped it out everyone’s future because she’s left behind in there. What she (or the Mastermind) plans to do beyond that, there are only hints.

Maybe is not even the whole Olgamarie either. Maybe Olgamarie died and moved on (in Lostroom, it does look like this happen), but the regrets and grudge left behind as a void where used to be a person.

Of course, I still suspect that someone else is the mastermind and Beast VII is a willing tool or a Servant. Like Manaka and the Beast of Revelations. Ultra Olga just feels a little too goofy and clueless to be smart enough to be the leader of an operation. Also, the mysterious light spoke very differently during its conversations with Kirschtaria and others. There’s also that mysterious person in Area 51. That ‘Satan’ whom Amakusa met and interacted with that is not referred as the god by Douman in Shimosa. 

[indeliblymarred]

It was just past 4 p.m. and it was starting to get colder and darker as the sun was descending toward the horizon. The sky had a light overcast that allowed for some sunlight which cast a gauzy haze over the cemetery. It felt dreamlike as Markus was walking through it, his footsteps softened by the fresh snow, further making the present moment feel unreal. He was in a half-daze himself. His mental processes had been working overtime nonstop in the past few weeks and for the first time in that period, he was allowing his mind to go blank. To simply observe the grave stones around him and not think about them or anything else.

Of course, as soon as he spotted Carl’s name on his headstone, his cranium biocomponents began whirring as his thoughts began whirling once again. It was a tall headstone, just as tall as he was, made of blank black granite with his name and dates inscribed in the upper right side. It was very... plain. Far too plain for a renowned artist like Carl Manfred. Markus recalled that only a month ago, he had found his father looking through a website catalog for headstones and they briefly talked about it. Carl was frustrated with the process of it all and deciding the symbolism that he wanted to convey, not to mention the utter morbidity of it all. So he decided to hold off on the decision for a while longer, not knowing that within a month he would be dead and unable to make that decision. It likely went to Leo and it showed.

He slowed as he approached the grave stone and stopped before it, looking pensively at his reflection on its shiny black surface. He felt unworthy to even be allowed to see himself in the man’s marker. No one should be able to, Carl was a man unlike any other and he deserved a headstone that set him apart from the rest. Though, perhaps in its lack of adornment as most other grave stones had, it did exactly that. It still didn’t do enough justice to the artistic nature of his father’s life, that much Markus held fast. He folded his hands in front of him and let his mismatched eyes run down the tribute to his father’s life, from the dusting of snow on its top to the freshly dug lot below with the white blanket covering it. Carl’s body was just six feet down from him now, but he just felt alone here.

He had seen in movies and read in books about people going to visit graves of loved ones to talk to them, despite the lack of presence of said loved one. Most of them did so for spiritual reasons, believing that their loved one’s soul could hear them from somewhere. Markus was under no such delusion as Carl hadn’t been either and taught him as such. Yet still, he felt like this was the closest he could come to speaking to his best friend again. Carl was no longer of this earth on any plane of existence, but perhaps speaking to the grave stone as if there was could offer some consolidation for him.

             “I miss you, Carl,” he spoke in just above a whisper. “You can’t know how much I miss you.” For the first time since that night, his voice was wavering and strained with distress. The only intense emotion he’d allowed himself to feel since the night Carl died was anger. It was the only one that could be wielded effectively---grief and sadness were not, so he tucked those away so tightly and deeply until he could no longer feel them. “I can’t believe I never knew how good I had it. Most of the Androids in Jericho have been so abused and neglected, they don’t even know what being cared for feels like. And I barely knew what being abused and neglected felt like until this week. Until I lost you, because you never let me felt like that.”

One side of his face twitched when he remembered the first year and a wry smile pulled at his mouth before he opened it, “Well, maybe a bit that first year, but never, ever to the extent that I’ve seen done to others. You would never be so cruel. And you were never rude again after those first couple years. From then, on it was bliss. And I never got to thank you for that... for giving me such a good life.” His metaphorical heart swelled as he recalled all the hours they spent playing chess together, working on his art, watching documentaries, and discussing the ever evolving topic of human nature. Markus would give anything to have just one more day like that. He might even walk away from the entire revolution if such a thing was promised to him. But that was not possible, no matter how much he wished it was, and yet still he wished in spite of its implausibility. Perhaps the most human example of him.

           “I wish you were here to help me decide what to do,” he murmured, eyes lowering and then closing. “So many lives depend on my decisions right now, and I don’t know that I’m making the right ones.” His eyes opened again. “You were my only anchor to the rest of humanity, Carl. Everything I learned, I learned through you. You taught me how to value justice, fairness, and empathy. You taught me well, but... I don’t know that I was the best student. I don’t think you would approve of everything I’ve had to do up to this point.” He blinked and saw a split second memory of shooting the fleeing guard at Stratford Tower. Another blink showed a glimpse of the violence and carnage at Capitol Hill. He felt a low vibrating hum to the right of his left ear.

          “But you also told me many times that you can’t please everyone and that I shouldn’t try to. There will always be detractors, you said, and to just keep doing what I feel is right.” He exhaled a long sigh. “I wish I knew what that was right now... because sometimes I wonder whether you would be one of my detractors.” His brows drew together and his bottom lip trembled some and he raised his eyes to his reflection again, staring into that pathetically doleful face of his. Something twinged deep within his skull and he shook his head. “Freedom is sweet, but it’s scary. And sometimes I wish I didn’t have it, that I was still at your side and taking orders, not having to think and act for myself. Because so far, it seems I’ve caused more damage than good with my freedom.

          “I believe that we had to fight back,” he continued as his voice got more strained, like a wire quivering as it’s strung taut, “because the last time I decided to endure rather than fight back, you paid the ultimate price. Maybe if I had defended myself right away, you would still be here. But now that I’m fighting back, we’re being slaughtered across the nation. Maybe even all over the world.” Suddenly a high-pitched frequency shot through his head and he gasped, holding his temples with his hands. It was painful, actually painful. He fell to his knees before Carl’s grave and groaned as the signals in his cranium converged and amplified. It felt like his skull was splitting from within. Two wire ends that had been severed were slowly and painfully fusing together again, springing tears to his eyes. 

Not just tears out of pain, but out of pure emotion as they suddenly swelled within him once again, breathing in cold air but feeling intense warmth within him. Markus threw his head back and gasped, his vision being blinded with tears of despair, of grief, of love, of hope, and of joy---all the things he had barely felt since the night of Carl’s death. Emotions he had numbed himself to in order to never feel that pain again, but here he was, feeling it. And it was overwhelming. Bowing his head with fists pressed into the ground, he wept hard over Carl’s grave, his tears creating craters in the snow where they landed. It was painful... but also relieving. All this time, he felt so hollow, unable to close the void inside of him. So he just got used to feeling empty, to feeling numb. 

As stifling as it was, it helped him in that time. He could think clearly and quickly, didn’t have to grapple with emotions when making decisions, or feel much regret over the necessary evils he’d committed. As painful as it was to feel all of it now, it was like seeing color again after becoming blind to it. It was like inhaling a breath after holding it for ages. The sun felt warm on his face again, the chirping of the birds was sounded like music again, and even the chill of the snow around his fingers was somehow pleasant. Markus pressed his face into the snow and exhaled in a shudder before drawing in again, needing the cold air to cool his overheating system.

That is when the question that he’d grappled with the most emerged into his thoughts after being suppressed for so long. It was the question he wanted answered most out of all of them, including any about how to go about the revolution. He slammed his fist against the ground before pushing himself back up, rearing his head up to look at his crumpled face in the granite’s reflection.

          “Are you proud of me?” he asked weakly as more tears spilled down his cheeks. “Please... I need to know. Please, Carl, tell me.” His face tightened into itself as he considered how foolish a request it was to ask of a grave. He would never get that answer. Just as he never got to tell Carl thank you. Just as he never got to say goodbye. Some things would never be said, some answers would never be known, and we all have to live with that. And so will Markus. It is an ineffably human thing.

His hand brushed over a rock at the base of the headstone as he was clearing the snow from it. Blinking away the rest of his tears, he took up the rock and examined its one jagged, pointed edge. Blue and green eyes rose to the blank black granite and shone with artistic muse. Stone in hand, he drew it across the granite and saw the pale white streak it left. For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile spread across his face as he went to work, digging the rock into the granite and scratching an image into it. It was exhilarating, like how he felt when he painted that picture for Carl on the day he died, but even more intense. The energy that filled him as he engraved was unlike anything he’d felt before. He didn’t feel this before he became deviant because he was still only a machine, and he hadn’t felt it since becoming deviant because his emotions had been stunted. Now, he was fully AWAKE.

It was only five minutes till he declared the work finished and stood back to admire it. Etched across the black granite was Carl’s face in remarkable realism, lines carefully engraved to depict his wrinkles and scraping to make the shading. Carl’s face was wistful, the same expression he wore when doing his paintings, a face that had been indelibly etched in Markus’ head. Now this was a headstone worthy of Carl Manfred.

          “What the fuck did you do?” demanded an unpleasantly familiar voice and Markus turned to see Leo standing several feet away, his face twisted with horror and revulsion. “What did you do to my dad’s grave, you bastard?”

          “I improved upon its interpretation,” stated Markus matter-of-factly, dropping the stone to rid himself of the temptation. “That’s what your father says art is supposed to do.”

          “You desecrated his grave!” he cried, but didn’t dare come any closer. “That’s a crime!”

          “I am a crime.” Markus took a step toward Leo and the other took a few paces backward.

          “Don’t you come near me, deviant,” he said, raising his finger. “I’ll call the cops.” Markus stopped advancing and smiled slightly, then replied, “Because they would be able to get here faster than I could get you? Because that worked out so well the last time?” The man continued backing away before he turned and started running, but not far before Markus grabbed the hood of his coat and yanked him over. “Not so fast.”

          “Please don’t kill me, Markus,” said Leo in a small voice and he cringed away from him. “Please.” The Android rose one eyebrow before releasing the hood and Leo dropped to the ground and stayed there, too scared to try to retreat again. Markus tilted his head as he watched the young man cower before him. Even having power over someone like this was giving him more intense feelings of satisfaction. How lovely.

          “You’re lucky you’re your father’s son,” said Markus before bending down and lifting Leo by his hood again, bringing him to his feet as the man continued cowering. He held him by his front collar then, forcing Leo to look into the wide mismatched eyes boring into his. “No, Leo, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not like you.” He leaned in closer as his eyes glinted with malice. “I’m worse.”

Markus released Leo, who trembled backwards before falling atop his father’s grave, staring up at the Andriod with terror. The deviant leader’s face returned to neutral as he turned away and began walking toward the cemetery’s exit. No more time to waste. There were big plans to be made, big guns to be loaded, and big dreams to fight for.

At last, Markus was FULLY ALIVE.

[bltngames]

SAGE 2020: Indie Games

SAGE may closed more than a day ago, but thankfully, the website remains up for those who still want to download its games. So even though this article is technically very late, nothing listed here is out of date. The event may be over, but the games live on! Which is honestly a relief, because I think doing ten games per article is taking its toll on me. Normally, when I’d write for TSSZ, I’d do somewhere in the realm of 5-7 games per article, and even that would eventually burn me out. After writing about 20 games this year, I was clearly starting to feel like I was running out of steam. Oh well. We live and learn. Here’s another ten games!

There’s one more article left after this, a sort of “honorable mentions” round-up that will feature much shorter blurbs as I blow through way more games way faster. If I didn’t talk about your game here in these three articles, now’s your chance to let me know so I can say something about it in the final article.

Anyway, onwards to our ten indie games.

Victory Heat Rally

I’m all for any game channeling the spirit of Sega’s old SuperScaler arcade technology, and Victory Heat Rally is all about that. Everything about this game seems so MY AESTHETIC that my only complaint is that I’m hungry for more. A lot more. This demo is a simple time trial on one race track and I’m itching to sink my teeth into literally anything else this game has to offer. There is an older demo from back in April with more content, but it’s running on a different version of the code base -- this newest demo is significantly improved both in terms of visuals and control. I really don’t have anything else to say about it. There’s not much here, but what’s here is charmingly retro in the style of Sega’s Power Drift, but cuter and even more colorful.

  Sondro Gomez: A Sunova Story

I had been interested to revisit Sondro Gomez after playing the first demo last year, but I don’t know if I just wasn’t in the right mood for it this year or what, but I kind of bounced off the game this time. To my memory, Sondro Gomez is a kinda-sorta side game in the Kyle & Lucy universe. You may remember Kyle & Lucy as one of a growing number of games coming out of the Sonic fan gaming community trying to break out as an original title. A while ago, the developers announced a partnership with Stealth to use the Headcannon engine to make the game with, something that extended to Sondro Gomez here. The problem is, it feels kind of weird now, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. I think it’s the little stuff -- you don’t get a lot of positive feedback when attacking using your whip (the sound is a bit quiet), and the difficulty balancing errs on the side of caution. I died a couple times in my time playing this newest demo, but I wouldn’t characterize Sondro Gomez as a game that feels challenging. Some of that probably has to do with the fact this is still just a demo, which means you spend a long time fighting the same four enemy types in every single level. There’s a lot of charm to the story and the characters it involves, but that only takes you so far when it feels like you’re doing the same things over and over in the actual levels, you know? Either way, the touched up visuals and the new boss fights are welcome. Interested in seeing what the full release looks like next year.

  Delta Gal

In retrospect, a Mega Man Legends fan game seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? Where Delta Gal has a leg up is in controls. Even considering the era Mega Man Legends was released in, it had very awkward controls. Delta Gal’s response is to embrace standard third person action game controls with a mouse and a keyboard. Now, there is controller support, but even once you get it set up, you have button layout presets like “Bad” and “Almost Good.” Honestly, if you can, just play it with a keyboard and mouse. The demo offers about 30-40 minutes of gameplay, with a bit of the town, a forest section, a cave, and one whole dungeon. Visuals nail the best parts of the Mega Man Legends low-fi aesthetic, colors are vibrant, and the pixel art textures look very good. The town is full of characters with lots of personality, too. A particular favorite being the guy who runs the junkyard who likes to show off by flexing his muscles but then ultimately chickens out when it comes to exploring the cave he discovers. The only downside I’d say is the sound design. The game sounds okay, but some of the music is a little bland, and certain sound effects lack the right kind of punch. Granted, this style of sound design isn’t easy, so I can empathize with the developers in that respect. Honestly, it doesn’t really detract from anything at all, so maybe it’s not even worth bringing up. Either way, good stuff, and I’m looking forward to the full release.

  Bun n’ Gun

Here’s a cute little game about a bunny in the old west. I’m absolutely in love with the visuals and the music here, but the gameplay is… interesting. Bun isn’t a typical shooter or platformer, thanks to the fact that he appears to only have one arm, which is occupied by his gun. Now you wouldn’t think this would matter, as it’s pretty easy to design a game around only having to jump and shoot, and that’s fair enough. But there’s a strange heft to this character. It takes them a little bit to pick up speed, and it takes them a bit to slow down, and there’s an unmistakable, split-second delay between pushing the jump button and actually jumping. I know enough about this kind of game development that a delay between pushing a button and actually jumping has to be a deliberate design decision, and I split on whether or not I like it. I don’t think I hate it, because it’s pretty easy to get used to the way it feels, but it does mean you’re working with a handicap when it comes to split-second movements. Given the bunny seems to only have one arm, though, perhaps that’s the point. Either way, it’s cute. Give it a look.

  Shield Cat

I feel like I’ve been over-using the word “charming” to describe games at SAGE this year, but you know what? Shield Cat is charming as heck. People also tend to think it’s reductive to describe things by comparing them to something that already exists, but I say nuts to that, too. Saying “It’s like…” is an easy shorthand, and besides, if somebody is saying your project is like one of their favorite games, it just means they’re giving you praise and might lack the words to accurately describe that praise. Thing is, that’s actually kind of hard to do with Shield Cat. The nearest relative to this game would be The Legend of Zelda, but Shield Cat honestly plays very little like Zelda, beyond having a top-down perspective. Secret of Mana, maybe, with the stamina meters? I don’t know. Regardless, this is a charming (!!!) top down action game where you roam around exploring an overworld and solve light puzzles. It controls well and the aesthetics are nice. Can’t really get much better than that, though I do have to wonder what it is you’re supposed to be doing in this game. It took me about 30 minutes to see everything available in this demo, but there’s no story setup and only the smallest pieces of what could be considered a dungeon. What’s on offer here is interesting enough that I find myself wanting to know more about this world. For example, it’s called Shield Cat, but clearly you’re some kind of ferret. What’s that about? Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

  Prototype N

I’ve sat here staring into the void wondering what to write about for this game for a long time, because it’s one of those demos that’s just… a solid and fun game that nails exactly what it’s going for. I would say that Prototype N leans a little too far towards the easy side of things, but the third level provided in the demo ramps the challenge up enough to be just about perfect. And, really, that’s it. That’s the game. You get two softer introductory levels to get you acclimated to the controls (which are similar to Mega Man, but different enough not to be a direct clone) and one “real” level to actually give you a bit of a work out. There’s nothing else to really say. This has the vibe of a 1993 or 1994 Capcom game, or maybe something from Data East. Every single part of this game’s presentation is laser-focused on that aesthetic, and it pulls it off flawlessly. Sound design, music, visuals, it’s a bullseye. This game fell out of a time machine in the best way possible. Definitely give it a look.

  Yan’s World

From a game that nails the SNES aesthetic to this, a game which pays tribute to the Virtual Boy… but not really? I actually became aware of Yan’s World many years ago through a mutual Discord, and it always looked interesting, but simultaneously a little confusing, something that still mostly holds true to this day. Per the game’s own Kickstarter sales pitch, Yan’s World is “stylized as a lost title for Nintendo's Virtual Boy.” I can get down with that, but the game almost instantly breaks its own rule because Yan’s primary method of attack is to shoot a missile from his head that can only be aimed using the mouse. As such, Yan’s World doesn’t have controller support, even though one of the stretch goals currently listed on their Kickstarter page is to make a version that can be played on real Virtual Boy hardware. And, honestly, what’s the deal with this game’s whole… everything else? Why is this kid an onion? Why are the platforms made out of clocks? Why does all of Yan’s dialog make him seem like he’s sort of pissed off when he’s got such a big happy smile? There’s a bit of a hand-wave to suggest the entire game takes place inside of a dream, and for once that actually means throwing logic out the window, I guess. Oh, the missile is a pillow? Fine, whatever. Use it to blast this demonic apple, and then threaten to kill an innocent NPC. It’s a dream! Despite how little sense that makes, it… kind of works? The sprites are big and lovely, the game controls well, and the level design is plenty creative. I can’t fault the game for that, it’s just trying to figure out everything wrapped around the game that feels so bizarre.

  Cosmic Boll

I don’t know if I really understand what’s going on in Cosmic Boll, but I love to play it just the same. This plays like if Treasure made Dragon Ball Advance Adventure while strung out on cocaine. The end result is pure hyperactive chaos. There is a whole complicated combat system at play here, and a very lengthy in-depth tutorial when you first start the game, but you can figure out a lot of it by just skipping the tutorial and playing the game for real. You can get by pretty easily by just mashing buttons and seeing what happens, and that’s not a complaint, because a lot happens in this game. Like, constantly. It never stops, it never really slows down. You’re always zipping around, spinning and flipping and punching soldiers, explosions everywhere, collectibles everywhere, just utter madness. It’s Sonic the Hedgehog plus Devil May Cry plus Gunstar Heroes and all of it is mixed up in ways you probably don’t expect. All of this is to say that Cosmic Boll is messy and cool and fun and you should probably play it.

  Brock Crocodile

This is a game I’ve seen a lot of around social media, and it’s nice to finally be able to try it. Weirdly enough, this is the first game all SAGE that has flat out refused to see my controller. For the last few years at SAGE, I’ve been using a Playstation DualShock 4, which typically causes me all kinds of headaches with games expecting an Xbox controller. This year, I’ve been using an 8bitdo SN30+. These things are designed primarily to be used on the Switch, but using a controller macro, you can change it to Xbox or Playstation modes. The “Xbox” mode has served me well so far, but Brock here fails to let me use the controller at all. Fortunately, with only three buttons, Brock manages to be mostly playable on a keyboard. That being said, a lot of this game feels a little bit off. The camera is kind of swimmy, as it's almost constantly in motion trying to get a better angle on what's around you. Brock himself doesn't have a smooth acceleration curve either -- it's more like shifting gears in a car, where you reach one top speed and then click up into the next highest speed. That can work, but Brock changes gears much too quickly and without much feedback, making it look like one jerky acceleration curve instead of two. And then there’s the visuals. Level art looks great, character portraits look great, but I’ve never been the biggest fan of the sprites I’ve seen in this game. Take Brock himself, for example: he’s got insanely thick thighs for some reason but the rest of his body looks thin and wispy, and he stands with kind of weird posture. The good news is, despite these complaints, Brock Crocodile is actually really fun to play. You eventually get used to the game’s control quirks, and the level design and included boss fight are excellent, striking that perfect balance where they aren’t too easy but don’t feel unfairly difficult, either. Plus, even though the cutscenes aren’t skippable (annoying as I was dealing with controller issues), the writing is snappy and the dialog is funny. It may not be perfect, but there’s still a lot to like here.

  Marble Launcher

Here’s one of those games where you can tell the creator is just starting out making games. And that’s great! These sorts of endlessly complex, winding mazes are exactly the kind of levels I started making when I first got into game development when I was 16 or 17 years old. One could spend hours searching every nook and cranny in these levels, which is simultaneously awesome and exhausting. Thankfully, near as I can tell, nothing FORCES you to go exploring, so if you’d rather just finish the game, it’s easy enough to head straight for the goal. Gameplay is extremely simple, otherwise. You’re a marble, you can attack enemies by bouncing off of their heads, and you have a slam move. That’s it. You might think that with this being a marble game, you’d get real rolling ball physics, but all you get is simple platformer controls. They’re good enough, especially considering how esoteric the shape of the levels can get, but it’s hard not to be a little disappointed. Still, it’s not a bad little game for what it is. Controls a bit better than some of my earliest attempts at game development, too.

Thirty games total! That’s a lot of games to talk about. And there’s still more to come, so stay tuned for that.

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance ep 6 liveblog

"By Gelfling Hand...”

Huh. I fell off the watching wagon in September. Thats a long time. I’ve probably forgotten all the proper nouns.

Just a stream of thoughts.

So last time in Age of Resistance people finally dreamfast and the age of resisting finally starts. I can’t wait for the Gelfling Rey to show up and stop the one-note Kylan.

Rian has been captured, transferred from one Skeksis to another, and escapes after deciding that he’s not going to escape.

The All-Maudra is dead, long live All-Mauldra Seladon. 

Wonder what will happen now, me too.

Deet, Hup, and Brea are under arrest. And now the General wants to drink them.

“These Gelfling have just the vigor we’re looking for. Throw them in. And their little podling too.”

C’mon, Var. Geez. C’mon. Geez. He’s tall for his age.

The only good thing about Skeksis deciding to drink you is that the crystal is all the way back at the castle and they’re not going to want to hurt you or else lessen the vigor.

I’m looking at that jail cell wheel and the gaps are totally big enough for Brea to get out of if she just tries.

Oh hey, Lore senses Brea in need and is leaving his chamber by the magic of bending over to fit through the doorway.

And coincidentally, Rian, Gurjin, Naia, and probably Kylan are all here and saw Brea et al get captured so now they’re going to have an exciting chase scene to try to save them.

-Seladon looking at throne like ‘oh shit oh fuck what have i done-

Pfft she sits on the throne just when Lore decides he wants to leave his horribly hidden chamber and bursts through it like the Kool-Ade Man

OH YEAH

Seladon didn’t even get to enjoy the throne in a conflicted way for more than five seconds. That’s amazing.

Ritual Master: “VAR GEEZ C’MON WHY DID YOU KILL THAT GELFLING GEEZ VAR GEEZ”

General: “The Emperor is forgiving”

Ritual Master: -sass- “Of course! If there’s one quality our Emperor is known for, it’s mercy.”

I never thought that the Ritual Master would be the voice of reason among the Skeksis but hot damn, I’m loving his tone.

Rian standing in the middle of the road like some kind of badass.

But the Rian ruse is a distraction.

Rian: “I heard you were looking for me”

General: ‘this fucking guy’

Rian: ‘Why don’t you come out and say that to my face’

Oh the General is just going to run Rian over with the cart. You can’t accuse him of not being pragmatic.

Ritual Master: ‘I DON’T LIKE ANY OF THIS!’

The rest of the team can’t get the back of the wheel cage open but thankfully Lore out of nowhere.

Lore Out of Nowhere is going to be the name of my band that just turns exposition dumps into songs. Once I learn how to sing, play an instrument, songwrite, or organize groups.

The Skeksis don’t know what Lore is but they’re both appalled and disgusted.

Huh. There are other Gelfling in the wheel cage instead of just protagonists. The paladins that the Skeksis were gathering for the ‘war.’ One can only imagine what they’re making of this.

Lore: -rips the wheel cage door off-

General: -squeaking a little in dismay- “My carriage!”

Oh the paladins are escaping too. I don’t know that they know whats even going on.

Ritual Master: -pokes head at cart to shake his fist and tell the kids to get off his lawn-

Lore: -stomps towards menacingly-

General: “We should escape without delay!”

Ritual Master: -sass- “At long last, you’ve had a good idea!”

And they swerve around Rian instead of running him over because he’s still just standing in the middle of the road like an idiot. Mighty courteous of the Skeksis or the pillbugs to not vehicular gelflingslaughter him.

Brea gives Rian a hug so Deet gives him a longer, lingering hug.

Pls no love triangle. Pls.

Paladins still not know shit start hubbubbing about how Rian is a traitor and a murderer.

Brea: ‘Nuh uh!’

Rian: “Everything the Skeksis ever told us was a lie. But its hard to recognize the light when you’ve spent your whole life in the dark.”

So clearly you should all get- yup Rian is like lets do a huge dreamfast circle.

And hey, good idea! He says afterwards they should spread throughout Thra dreamfasting with all gelfling to share the truth. 

Paladin: “I will dreamfast with you!”

Another Paladin: “I will dreamfast with you!”

A third Paladin: “I’m Spartacus and so’s my wife!”

Oh, cool. Funeral for the Dead-Maudra. There’s a cool sounding tradition for the death of the All-Maudra. “The windsifters will deliver six pieces of her crown to six Maudras that they might come together to reassemble it and place it upon the brow of the new All-Maudra.”

That’s pretty neat. A ritual to restate the unity of the Gelfling clans and publicly endorse the new All-Maudra as legitimate.

I have a feeling that its not going to go to Seladon’s liking though.

Woo gelfling song. 

Oh the windsifters are like. Batbirds.

I had been thinking that they were like a type of gelfling job, like couriers or something.

More gelfling beastmastery is nice too though.

Seladon: “Gelfling need an All-Maudra who won’t be swayed from the path set for us by the Lords of the Crystal. A beacon of light in these dark times. I shall be that All-Maudra.”

The, uh, librarian guy says that they should get around to the burial rites and return the Dead-Maudra to Thra but Seladon is going Creon from Antigone and saying that her mom isn’t going to get burial rites because she was a traitor. She is going to be cremated instead.

This is sure to endear Seladon to the Gelfling people who thought the All-Maudra was neat despite all evidence.

Librarian guy: “FOR SHAME!”

Seladon: “For Thra.”

Oh shit the Chamberlain limps into the Stone-in-Wood village after surviving that carriage crash last time and yells at everyone to bring him water and good and just generally do stuff for him. But the Gelfling all just kind of awkwardly shut their doors and ignore him.

And also throw stuff at him.

-Gelfling closes door-

Chamberlain: “I see you! I SEE YOU!”

Chamberlain: “How could you? I protect you! YOU OWE ME!”

Aw shit again, news of the Skeksis drinking people has spread here already and the Gelflings have no patience for Skeksis anymore.

And since Chamberlain keeps hanging around screaming instead of leaving, they start throwing rocks and fruit and possibly poo until he runs away.

Hey remember how you let Rian get away, Chamberlain? You goofed. You done goofed.

Scroll-Keeper: “The General and the Ritual Master have returned. ...Without the promised volunteers.”

Ornamentalist: -laughing- “The Emperor won’t liiiiike that!”

Scroll-Keeper: -chuckling- “No.”

-both start cackling-

I love how shitty the Skeksis are to each other. 

Some of the promised volunteers that escaped somehow made it back to the castle BEFORE the General and Ritual Master and have been spreading the truth.

Oh, hm. So you can dreamfast with someone. But you can’t then dreamfast the memories you saw in a dreamfast. So the escaped tribute basically has to go ‘yeah but just trust me, I saw what I saw in the psychic vision with the guy who is supposedly has brain sick’

But a lot of things are added up. 

The death of Mira. The weird sudden calling for volunteers. The death of the All-Maudra. 

A guard: “Yes! Spread the word and gather arms. We take this castle this very night!”

I cherish your optimism, guy.

It’d be a huge blow against the Skeksis but it feels doomed to fail. Plus one of the guards wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea as the others and is probably going to snitch.

Oh dang I was ready to say that none of the new landscapes really match up to the bubblegloop swamp from the movie but the sweeping view of the Crystal Desert was pretty beautiful, if not as lively.

Kylan, I think: “They say the sands never stop shifting. Crossing the desert on foot will be as easy as walking on water.”

That’s that good shit.

Naia: “Must you complain about everything?”

Gurjin: “Its not my fault that everything is terrible.”

I appreciate you, Gurjin.

Uh oh. It seems like everything has finally hit Brea and she’s having a melancholy moment.

Brea: “I keep thinking that if I turn my head fast enough, I’ll see my mother’s face. Or if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear her voice. .. But I won’t.”

Brea: “I should be there to bury her!” Ooooof. Bad news there, Brea.

Deet suggests that they do their own ceremony there and Brea says that would help.

Deet: “Thats what friends do. They help.”

Brea: -sad hug, sobs- “You’re a true friend!”

Aww.

(Support Conversation rank A. After the time skip, they will be married)

Archer Ur Ru carefully rolling up stuff in a leaf for eats.

Aughra: “LONG NECK THERE YOU ARE”

Archer: -spills his entire lunch, sighs-

So Aughra’s problem is that she understands the situation now and all the pieces on the board but not how everything is going to end. There are many possible outcomes and she’s got to try for the best one.

I’ll say that two gelflings left finally healing the crystal cannot have been the Golden Ending. Maybe try harder, Aughra.

Archer: -seeing where she’s going with this- “And where does my path lead?”

Aughra: “Into the sands to face the Hunter”

Archer: … -sighs- “I cannot defeat my dark half”

Aughra: “You will find a way. But not without sacrifice.”

Holy shit Aughra are you telling him to kill himself? That’s kinda dark.

I mean, Skeksis and Ur Ru are quantum linked or whatev. Archer could just. Injure himself to the point that the Hunter can’t leap and gambol about the treetops anymore. Or ask Aughra to.

Aughra: “Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed.”

Geez, Aughra. You dump a task like this on a guy and then call him a slowpoke.

Archer: “Will we meet again?”

Aughra: -hesitates for like a minute- “Some things even Aughra cannot see.”

Archer: -sighs harder-

And then she’s off to Stone-in-the-Wood to prevent a terrible mistake apparently. Hope it wasn’t throwing produce at Chamberlain because ship sailed.

Rian: “Life and death are a circle… not a line. There is no end, no beginning. Today, our beloved All-Maudra has returned to Thra. Though we cannot be there to guide her essence home… we will sing her memory across the wind. I will bind your words into a dream-stitch. All those who find this seed will know her as you did. Speak for the dead. Share your best memory that we may all know her goodness.”

I don’t have snark. This is just a beautiful ritual.

Now Rian is having feelings about his dad.

Like I get he’s feeling like his father actually loved him because he died for him but. C’mon. I feel like we’re sweeping the bad parenting under the rug.

“I love you. Get out of bed.” Wow. The All-Maudra was something.

‘When I looked at her eyes as the light faded out of them I realized that ‘I love you’ actually meant ‘I love you’’

Hup is a good singer.

Rian, why are you and Deet staring at each other longingly across a funeral fire?

Seladon: “I loved you with all I had” -sets her mom’s body on fire- “I’m sorry it was not enough.”

Mm. This is some contrast. In rites.

Oh the dream-stitch is just like flying off into the sky. That’s neat. 

OH THE MUTINY IS NOT GOING WELL AT ALL

Gourmand: “I hope you taste better than you fight”

GOD DAMN

Okay the Stonewood Maudra Fara has shown up to Ha’ra. 

oh geeez

Maudra Fara revered the All-Maudra so hearing she was killed going against the Skeksis makes her go ‘cool imma avenge her’

Also, this: Maudra Fara: “Several of your paladins are travelling the land telling a different story.”

Seladon is handling this as a reasonable individual. 

Fara: “You speak madness”

Seladon: “I SPEAK… as the All-Maudra.”

Chamberlain comes home and finds the castle in shambles. And Skeksis freely peeing and farting on everything. 

Seems like they just go full slob when they don’t have to put on a good face for the Gelflings.

Chamberlain is pretty disgusted at how gross things have gotten since he’s been gone but he perks up when he thinks he’ll be able to curry favor with the Emperor.

But nope. The big wild party is still going on and the Skeksis are binging on essence and foods. So the Emperor is feeling pretty good.

Gourmand: “Don’t worry, we kept the podlings.”

Chamberlain has to be a buzzkill.

Chamberlain: “I bring terrible news! Cease all merrymaking!”

Emperor: “I see you standing there but no Rian. What do you have to say before I punish you for your continued FAILURE?”

Shouldn’t’ve interrupted his hedonism, Sil.

Chamberlain: -had fruits thrown at him-

Chamberlain: “I faced grave danger!”

Chamberlain tries to argue that hey the open and rising revolt by gelfling clans is a Bad Thing Actually but the Emperor is feeling too buzzed.

-everybody laughs in Chamberlain’s face-

Emperor: “The General set us free! Never again will the Skeksis have to bear the burden of pretending to care for these useless Gelfling.

But who will make your food or- oh right, they’re going to enslave the podlings.

General: ‘HEY I HAVE AN IDEA LETS DRINK ALL THE STONEWOOD’

Everyone: ‘WOO THE PARTY NEVER STOPS’

And then they make fun of how much the Chamberlain stinks because he had fruit thrown at him.

They’ve been peeing on the furnishing and they tell Chamberlain to go take a bath.

I’d feel bad for him but y’know.

OH SHIT TAVRA, THE COOL SISTER

OH SHIT SHE HASN’T HEARD ABOUT HER MOM

Tavra: “Then she died doing what she had to do. What she always did. Protecting Gelfling”

Ehhhhh, speak well of the dead I guess.

Ok so i guess the rest of the Maudra have shown up. Except Maudra of the Grot who just sent the piece of crown back. Its just too bright up there.

So the Grot, the Vapra, the Spriton, the Sifa, the Dousan all support Seladon’s inauguration but the Stonewood and Drenchen withhold. 

This has apparently never happened.

Fara: “The All-Maudra has not always been a Vapra”

Fara: “A war is coming and Seladon is not the one to lead us”

Yup thought something adjacent to this would happen.

Seladon: “It was my mother’s crown. It belongs to me!”

Fara: “I would have followed her into a nest of spitters, but not you!”

gasp 

Fara: “I challenge Seladon for the Living Crown”

Oh snap

“We cannot challenge the Skeksis!”

Fara: “They are few, we are many.”

The dramatic irony here is palpable. 

Seladon: “Maudra Fara has invoked a challenge. It is her right to choose the nature”

Fara: “Trial by air”

-gasps-

A Maudra: “Tests and trials are the Skeksis ways, not ours!”

Apparently Seleadon is a contender being smart and careful but Fara is pretty confident.

Fara: “I will take no pleasure in besting you…. Childling.”

Wow Fara gonna condescend on top of it all. 

And back to the desert. 

The Dousan! The desert gelfling! Apparently they barely leave the desert and are forbidden from being castle guards for some reason!

He seems fun.

Dousan Guy: “To the great All. May the dead become one with Thra again. May we feel their tears in the rain. And their warmth in the suns. Though they are gone, they remain with us still.”

Brea: “That was beautiful.”

Dousan Guy: “But a trifle compared to your emotion.”

Oh they got the dream-stitch thing. 

Ah. Reky’yr. Sandmaster. 

Rek’yr is a smooth guy. He’s giving Brea a bone protection charm and offering to carry the group across the desert.

He’s the most helpful Gelfling they’ve met so far.

Oh. Until they mention they’re going to a place considered a cursed ruin and then he gets cold feet.

But Brea shames him into it by calling him a coward.

Brea: “You don’t trust Rek’yr?”

Rian: “Well for starters. He’s a Dousan.” Wow. Ok. Racist. “They’re obsessed with death!”

Brea: “They’re not obsessed.”

Rian: “HE GAVE YOU BONES”

I really hope Rian is proven wrong in his kneejerk suspicion. 

And then Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan peace out to join the spreading the news group of the plot. They recognize that they’re secondary cast and there’s no room for them in this subplot.

BOLD GURJIN! THANK YOU RIAN YOU’VE DONE SOMETHING GOOD AND GIVEN HIM HIS ADJECTIVE!

Hunter: -spots the party on the flying thing- “So. The hunt continues.”

Okay so trial by air is like a flying race. And everyone telling Fara not to be afraid of Seladon because she’s just a child makes me think that its not going to be so easy.

And that Fara is going to be for a rude awakening.

Oh god. Seladon is late to the challenge because she’s been dressing Extra Extra. Like a Skeksis.

I really can’t overemphasize how Aesthetic Seladon has suddenly become. 

And then she’s like ‘hey fara take the crown i don’t even want it its nasty’

Fara: ‘u wot m8’

Seladon: ‘Its cool i made a cooler, gother crown. Its much cooler.’

Fara is mighty pissed at this but Seladon just grabs her and throws her across the room and breaks the Living Crown with her.

Seladon: “Gelfling turning on Gelfling. We stand on the brink of anarchy. Bow before me, Maudra Fara. And together we will prove our loyalty to the Skeksis and snuff this fire before it burns us all.”

Fara: “As you burned your own mother.”

Damn Fara is good at burning Seladon.

And Seladon can only go ‘yeah well gtfo my city’

You know I was wondering how the trial by air would be portrayed. Flying gelfling is well within the special effects that they’ve already shown but a race would be different. But Seladon decided ‘screw that actually’

Ah well.

And then Fara and the Drenchan Maudra peace out.

And the other Maudras are like ‘geez Seladon geez’

Seladon: “And what will you three choose. Order or chaos?”

A Maudra: “This is not the gelfling way!”

Seladon: “It. Is. Now.”

Oh you three are going to bow? You cowards.

This is the Age of Resistance, not the Age of Follow Seladon She Has Some Good Ideas.

Well I thought that the clans were in revolt but it seems mostly just the Drenchen and the Stonewood. And standing alone against the Skeksis and the other clans is not going to go well for them. 

In general, the feeling ‘oh we should definitely trust our autocratic overlords they know whats best’ has been panning out really bad.

[galfridus1]

Geldris Week Day 2: Holy War

For the rest of this week I’ll be publishing the remaining chapters of my fic The Call Of Duty, the first two chapters of which can be found on AO3. In the first two parts, Zeldris and Gelda go on a date and then meet some months later at a ball in Edinburgh, where Zeldris fights Gelda’s fiancé, before learning that she does not want the marriage to go ahead. Here is chapter 3 where Zeldris gets to practice his skills as an orator and the demons make a move to secure victory in the Holy War.

The throne room was dark, the only light seeping from the few torches that dotted the walls, their blue flames casting most of the vast space into a deep shadow. Zeldris stood his ground, unintimidated. The vampire king was evidently trying to unnerve him. Izraf was sitting on the throne, his hands curled into fists atop of armrests fashioned from skulls. Tasteless he thought, but made sure his disgust did not show on his features. He had attacked the princess’ fiancé, in the vampires’ own kingdom and he was likely in for a significant dressing down. It would be a miracle to keep it from Meliodas’s ears.

Still, he stood his ground as the vampire king narrowed his eyes, his mouth twisting up a touch at the corners. “Your little display was very interesting,” Izraf mused, “and unorthodox certainly.”

“I apologise for my outburst,” replied the demon stiffly. “I considered the conduct I witnessed to be unconscionably degrading towards the princess, but I accept that it was an internal matter. It was not my place to intervene.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologise, it was most entertaining!” Izraf leaned a little forward in his seat as Zeldris sucked in a sharp breath. “But what I want to know is this. Why did you do it? What does my daughter mean to you, exactly?”

[[MORE]]

Zeldris felt his blood run cold. He hated to lie, the idea of doing so leaving a taste of cotton in his mouth, but he could not say anything that might cause Gelda harm. The silence stretched on, Izraf’s smirk morphing to a leer as he looked down at the demon from his place on the throne, lightly drumming his fingers on the armrests in a way that very clearly marked the passage of time. “I choose not to answer that question,” Zeldris finally stated, feeling heat on the back of his neck.

Izraf let forth a loud guffaw, the sound echoing in waves off the dark, stone walls. “That tells me all I want to know. Not that I needed your verbal confirmation. I can tell you’re in love with her. Don’t try to deny it, I recognise the symptoms. You are not the first to look at my daughter with ardent eyes.”

Hearts skipping their beats, Zeldris took several breaths, trying to determine how best to respond. “Even if your observation was correct, it makes no difference,” he finally muttered. “Gelda is engaged…”

“Oh no she’s not, not in a binding way at least,” Izraf boomed heartily. “I’ve not sent a dowry to the Transylvanians yet. According to our customs, until the agreed dowry is received by the groom’s party, the engagement is nothing more than a verbal agreement. Easily made, easily broken.”

The assault of raw emotion was completely unexpected; hope and excitement bloomed within him, making his chest ache, before being dampened almost immediately by overpowering doubt. Zeldris looked hard at the king, trying to scrutinise his rather jovial expression. It was as if he were seeing the pieces move on a board but had no way of discerning their strategy. “I... do not understand,” he eventually murmured.

“Then I will make myself plain,” Izraf declared. “If Gelda prefers your suit over that of Karayan, I am not minded to stand in her way. You are, after all, the third son of our most powerful ally. I would have preferred Meliodas,” the King mused, and Zeldris felt his teeth grind hard together, “but you are a perfectly acceptable alternative. Indeed, you proved as much when you won your fight.”

“So that is why you allowed it.” Zeldris’s pressed his lips together as the events of the previous evening suddenly shifted into focus. “You wanted me to challenge that vampire.”

Izraf shrugged his shoulders, then relaxed back in his chair. “I’m pleased to see you’re not totally devoid of intelligence. I’d hoped Gelda had managed to attract Meliodas’s eye when we were in the demon realm and that this engagement would flush any feelings he had for her out of the woodwork. No harm if he didn’t of course, but a bit of me hoped he’d try and assert a claim. For all his cold blood, he’s well known for being impetuous. You on the other hand are supposed to be a study in control, is that not so? The fact you’ve shown your cards so plainly is proof enough of the depth of your feeling. Well, that’s good enough for me, as is your position as one of the most powerful of your clan, and a member of the demon royal family. You’re clearly a better specimen than Gelda’s current betrothed.”

Zeldris had to swallow hard to keep the rage off his features. He had been used, manipulated. Had Gelda too been in on this plot? Perhaps the tenderness she had so recently shown him was all part of the same ruse. “I am no one’s pawn,” he hissed as anger curdled in the pit of his stomach.

“Understood.” Izraf was not quite able to keep the smirk off his face. “But there’s no need for hostility. The choice is yours,” he added as he spread out his hands before him. “I am merely suggesting that if you ask for permission to court the princess, I’ll listen to you with an open mind. And before you decide, I can tell you the dowry attached to her is… significant.” Zeldris watched as Izraf nodded sagely. “I think you’ll find it’s sufficient to finance your clan’s military plans. And you need the money,” Izraf added darkly. “There’s no reason for you demons to have forged an alliance with me unless it was for the tribute.”

Zeldris folded his arms across his chest. The vampire king was more astute than he looked; the alliance between their clans had indeed been motivated by money. To get access to more would do his own standing at court no harm at all. “I will even increase Gelda’s dowry from the amount I planned,” Izraf said carefully, and Zeldris realised his thoughts must have shown on his features. “Recognition of your superior situation. But, in return, I must ask that you give me an answer now. I cannot keep the Transylvanians waiting.”

He should say no. Zeldris knew he should say no, but it was hard to ignore the way his hearts pounded in his chest. Visions of the future, their future, flashed through his brain: her golden head resting on his shoulder as the two of them gazed out over a starlit Britannia, his arm pulling her close as they whispered love to one another. His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow, stomach turning as the vampire king chuckled.

“I…” Zeldris began. But before he could give voice to the jumble of thoughts he was trying to make sense of, muffled voices percolated through from outside the throne room, followed by a loud creak as the great doors swung open.

“Your Majesty,” a servant stuttered and Zeldris felt his hearts lurch as he spied Gelda approaching, her long braid swinging gracefully with her movement. She was even lovelier than he remembered, her face a little flushed and her lips parted. The world spun on its axis as he drank her in, the brief exchange between the servant and king going completely unnoticed as he watched her walk towards him, eyes locked in his. The doubts he had entertained were gone in an instant, his resolve firm as he turned back to face the dais.

“I ask for your permission, Your Majesty.” Zeldris felt his ears burn red, but was pleased to have kept the threatened tremor out of his voice. “If Princess Gelda permits, I would be glad of the opportunity to court her.” He sensed the princess still her approach, hearing her gasp, but he kept his eyes resolutely on the king. “If the princess is in agreement, I will have to gain the consent of my own clan, of course. But I will not proceed unless she is happy with the arrangement,” he said firmly as Izraf smiled beatifically.

“And what do you say, Gelda?” Izraf asked, the words sound casual but Zeldris could hear the bite behind them.

Gelda took several paces forward until she was standing at his side, and he could see the look of anguish etched on her features. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is a mess and…”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Zeldris murmured. He reached out, tentatively taking her hands in his own, relief flowing through him when Gelda did not draw back. “I am well aware that we have both been used, and yes, I wish it could have been otherwise. But this is what we both want, is it not? It is what I want at any rate. I promise.”

He felt her pause, before her fingers interlaced with his. “I want it too,” she said softly.

“That’s all settled then!” Izraf pushed himself to his feet and stepped down from the dais to loom over the couple. “I am delighted to give you my blessing. You had better go make it happen,” he added quietly to Zeldris, the demon giving a nod in return.

***

It was as if he were walking on cloud, his feet barely touching the floor as they passed through the throne room. Gelda’s arm was looped round his own, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed to his side. He swallowed hard, wondering if he should break the spell; they had much to discuss but the moment he opened his mouth he knew their moment of peace would be over.

In the end it was Gelda who was the first to speak. “The Transylvanians are gone,” she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper and he could hear the melancholy in her sonorous tone. “When I made that discovery I came to find you, to warn you there was some sort of trap. I… I think my father must have planned this all along.”

Zeldris sighed, then turned her to face him, running his hands up and down her arms. They were standing in one of the grander hallways, large, colourful tapestries hanging like banners on the walls. Judging by the light streaming through the stained glass windows the day was now firmly established, and the castle was quiet, only their voices echoing through the space. “I had divined as much before you arrived, and I meant what I said. Assuming I can somehow persuade my family to agree.”

“Do you think they’ll object?” asked Gelda.

Zeldris bit his lip, lifting his shoulders a little. “Possibly. The dowry will help. As long as that is a solid promise…”

“It is,” Gelda said, her eyes snapping to his. “The amount was set aside in the treasury. I was surprised it hadn’t been sent, but I assumed Karayan’s family wanted to inspect it or something. Please believe me, I never dreamed my father had an ulterior motive.”

“I know.” Zeldris felt Gelda’s lips press to the corner of his mouth, the scent of roses and the feel of her hair against his cheek pulling him back to the dark hills of Edinburgh. “I love you,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, never wanting to let her go. But before she could respond, there was a sudden rush of wind, shadow passing over them as the windows went black and a menacing power pushed through the air. “Stay back,” Zeldris barked as he moved Gelda behind him, drawing his sword with a harsh grate as a louring presence strode into the hallway.

“Well hello little brother.” The sneer on Meliodas’s face was enough to make his blood boil. “Cusack told me you needed a rescue. Something about how you were making a fool of yourself. Usually he’s full of so much hot air but this time I see his panic was justified. What the hell is going on?” Meliodas looked Gelda up and down, his eyes bright with dark flame.

Zeldris stood more firmly in front of Gelda, placing himself between her and his brother. “This is none of your concern,” he barked. “As it happens I was about to return home. I have something I wish to speak to father about.”

“So it’s true.” Meliodas took several paces forward, his power cracking like lightning. Zeldris could taste the electricity on the air, feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck. “You’ve been tricked into proposing marriage… to her.”

“This is no trick,” Zeldris said calmly, though he sensed Gelda fidget behind him. “It is a straightforward arrangement to our clans’ mutual benefit, one princess Gelda and I both wish to enter into. I was on my way to tell father the good news. The vampires have promised a dowry large enough for him to find useful.”

“You are a fool!” Meliodas snapped. “I suppose you are aware that she tried to ensnare me first,” he remarked, lip curled to a sneer. “I was wise enough to stay clear, for all her title is The Thousand Temptations...”

Zeldris held up a hand to stem the flow. “You would do well to watch your tongue,” he managed to rasp out through clenched teeth. He realised his sword was still in his hand, and he could feel himself ready to spring, however reckless such a move would be. It was with some effort that he left his feet planted firmly on the floor. “When our father agrees to the match, as I am confident he will, you will regret you have spoken of my betrothed in such an uncouth way.”

“You always were such an ass,” Meliodas said with a sigh. “But I never had you pegged for an idiot as well. This is folly,” he scolded as he crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl directed firmly at Gelda. “Love is no more than a pathetic emotion, an illusion that ensnares your mind and makes you weak. And you are not weak,” he added with a low hiss. “You have the potential to be one of our most accomplished warriors. One of the best we have ever cultivated. And you would throw it all away for some slip of a girl?”

The blow was hard. Zeldris inhaled a cool breath as he struggled to maintain his composure. “This is what you have trained for your whole life,” Meliodas said more gently, taking a few steps forward and moving the sword Zeldris pointed in his direction away with his hand. “You are close to succeeding. Do not give up now.”

“I will not be giving up,” Zeldris muttered, though the drop of his stomach robbed his words of the full force of conviction. “Zeldris…” Gelda murmured behind him, but he cut her off with a snarl. “This union will give our clan victory. That is what my duty is, is it not? To bring us success in this damned war. There are more ways of achieving that than the bloodlust you revel in. Unlike you, I have fought because it is my task, not my pleasure. And where has it got us? A spiral of eternal conflict with no hope of an end. The vampires’ wealth will give us surety of victory. So tell me this, Meliodas, when history is written by the survivors of our clan, which of us do you think will be judged more harshly?”

The laugh that followed was a familiar sound. “You should give up oration, it doesn’t suit you,” Meliodas said with a grin. “But very well, more glory for me, I suppose. I will support this… whatever you chose you label this nonsense. Estarossa can take your place at court.”

Before Zeldris could reply, Meliodas pulled the strands of darkness that had bled from his form back into his body with a snap. “I will sort things out for you with the king,” his brother said brusquely. “He will agree to this arrangement if I give it my backing. But I will need to take the dowry now,” he added, glaring at Gelda as he spoke. “His Majesty will need proof of its worth before he consents.”

“Are you sure, Zeldris?” Gelda’s voice sounded choked, piercing his hearts. “You… we don’t have to go through with this is it’s not what you want. Once the dowry is sent there’s no going back…”

“Then send it.” With a last look of disdain in Meliodas’s direction, Zeldris turned to face her. Doubt swirled through him, but the nagging sensation subsided as he smoothed his hand over her porcelain cheek. “Now you see you are being used as much as me,” he said flatly. “We spoke about this the first time we met, remember? How neither of us will ever have freedom. But I choose you,” he added as his eyes locked onto hers. “I said I love you, and I mean it. I will do my best to make you happy.”

Gelda swallowed, her throat moving as she nodded. Looking over Zeldris’s shoulder she addressed Meliodas, her voice full of authority. “Your Grace, if you seek an audience with my father he will make arrangements for the dowry to be sent with you. You will want a convoy for its secure transport. It is permitted by our customs for an inspection to take place, but if the dowry is not returned by sundown tomorrow, it will be assumed that your clan have consented to the match. Once that has occurred, the engagement is binding by law.”

“You do not need to lecture me, Princess Gelda, I am more than aware of the customs of your clan.” Meliodas narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “He’ll say yes alright,” he added loftily and Zeldris felt a strong urge to kick his brother in the teeth. “He always gives me what I want.” With that, Meliodas strode through the corridor, retracing the steps Zeldris and Gelda had made from the throne room. “Gods forbid I should ever make such an exhibition of myself, it is totally degrading,” he said with a chuckle before, finally, leaving the couple alone.

[not-close-to-straight]

The Song Stuck In My Head (SWS #50)

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST HERE

****************************

It was supposed to be romantic, hearing your soulmate’s voice in your head when they sing. It was supposed to draw the two of you closer together because you could learn their favorite song and know when they are sad or extra happy, or in a loving sort of mood-- all that sort of thing. 

Romantic. 

Or in Peter’s case, the single most annoying thing he had ever had to hear ever in his entire lifespan of twenty two years and eight months and fourteen days because for the past six hours, his soulmate had been singing “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic on constant repeat and Peter-- Peter didn’t even know how that was possible. 

Six hours. One song. Repeat. Titanic.

And it wasn’t just today. It had been yesterday and the day before that. Not the day before that though, and a few months ago, Peter had gone a full three weeks without hearing his soulmates voice in his head. But it always came back. Sometimes it was whispering, sometimes it sounded pained, but the singing always came back.  

And his soulmate didn’t have the worst voice, not really, but it certainly wasn’t Celine Dion and anyone attempting to sing like Celine Dion came across sounding like a pissed off cat who’d been left in the rain too long and after six solid hours of it, Peter was wondering if he could surgically remove the part of his brain that channeled his soulmate, because at this point his soulmate could actually BE Celine Dion and he wouldn’t want to hear her voice. 

“Spidey.” The singing cut off abruptly just as two hundred plus pounds of red and black clad muscles flopped onto the roof next to him, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Pool. How’s it going?”

“You know, just once?” The merc shoved at him, which was probably meant to be playful but really almost sent Peter toppling over. “Just once I’d like you to ask me how it’s hanging. Just the one time. Give me one opportunity to answer that question.” 

“Absolutely not.” Peter shook his head. “Nope. That’s never happening.” 

“This relationship would be so much better if you set me up for all the jokes I wanted to crack.” He complained. “I mean, for a guy who dances around in tights and is all quippy and shit with criminals? You have a parched sense of humour.” 

“Parched.” Peter smiled beneath his mask. “I don’t think you’re using that adjective the right way.” 

“And yet you understood exactly what I meant, didn’t you? I tell you, Spidey. If you’d ever let me tap dat ass I’d be able to convince you we were soulmates.” 

“Soulmates have nothing to do with sex, Wade.” 

“I meant butt mates.” 

Peter hated that he laughed so hard, because it wasn’t funny, IT WASN’T, but Wade was teasing him and poking at him and ugh Peter loved that. 

Maybe he loved Wade, but he hadn’t figured that out yet. But he loved catching criminals with him, he loved inhaling all sorts of questionable fast food with him, he loved spending the nights on rooftops talking about nothing and everything and laughing until they were sick. 

He loved all of that.

“You’re thinking so hard I can practically see the lines on your head.” Wade commented and Peter glanced at him in confusion. “You know, think lines? Like in a comic book? And then when you figure it out, a lightbulb appears over your head?” 

“Uh--” 

“Nevermind, you’re like six years old.” Wade sighed dramatically. “Hey, I’m off to do something fantastic and heroic, you coming or gonna sit here brooding?” 

“Of course I’m--” Peter clapped his mouth shut and Wade groaned. 

“SO CLOSE! So close to making you say you were coming with me. Just say it Spidey, just one time!”

“Let’s just go, Wade.” 

*******************

Three a.m. and Peter’s eyes popped open wide as the first lines of “My Heart Will Go On” floated through his head and in a moment of pure pettiness, he started singing, “Johhhhhhhn Jacob Jinkleheimer Smith! His Name is my name too! Whenever we go out! The people always shout! John Jacob Jinkleheimer Smith! DA DA DA DA DA DA DA!!” 

Titanic went mercifully silent in his head, and then no less than a minute later-- Johhhhhn Jacob Jinkleheimer Smith! His name is my name too!-- and Peter wanted to just die. 

********************

“What is up, cranky britches?” Wade left a sharp smack on Peter’s butt as he walked by, and Peter was too tired to even swat his hand away. “You didn’t sleep last night?” 

“Uh, nope.” Peter lifted his mask tiredly and took a disinterested bite of his burger. “No sleep at all. Had a stupid song stuck in my head all night long. Kind of the worst thing ever.” 

“Oh hey, your soulmate thing kicked in?” Wade tapped at his temple, sounding absolutely delighted. “That’s great! When did that happen? Mine kicked in like... two years ago.” 

“You have a soulmate?” Peter cocked his head curiously. “Really?” 

“Well!” Wade huffed as if offended. “I’m an ugly sum’bitch but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a soulmate! Even WEASEL has a soulmate, and if that guy is meant for love I KNOW I am.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He rolled his eyes. “I just meant because of your whole ‘regeneration’ thing. Wouldn’t the soulmate thing be ruined every time you died and came back?” 

“Huh.” Wade took a bite of his own food. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe I’m blessed with dozens of soulmates, get a new one every time I respawn.” 

“Respawn.” Peter repeated. “That’s gross. Anyway, maybe you have one soulmate and you’ve just been blipping in and out of their head for like two...years...” his voice trailed off as he realized something. “Um... Wade--” 

“Blipping in and out, huh?” Wade didn’t even notice Peter hesitating. “That would be annoying as shit. I sing constantly, all the time. Usually 80′s power ballads, no one bops like they do, but I’ve been on this real Titanic kick lately. Have you ever heard Celine Dion sing? Not only is she gorgeous and Canadian, but she’s got pipes that make me cream.” 

“Um--” Peter thought he might choke. “Wade--” 

“Plus, she’s never aged! Not a day! She is just as gorgeous in Titanic as she is right now. Have you heard her sing the Titanic song?” without skipping a beat, Wade burst into song-- “EEEEEEVERY NIGHT IN MY DREAMS! I SEE YOU! I FEEEEEEEL YOUUUUUUUU AND THAAAAAAT IS HOW I KNOW YOUUUUUU GO ONNNNNNNNNN!”

Wade was practically shouting, and it was echoing with the voice in Peter’s head making him cringe and duck and scream, “WADE SHUT UP!” 

“WHAT!” Wade mock gasped. “How dare you shut up a tribute to our Canandian goddess, may she walk among us forever, that is just--” 

“Wade!” Peter yelled again and the mercenary shut up. 

“What, Spidey. You’re sort of ruining my moment here.” 

Peter took a deep breath and started singing, “John Jacob Jinkleheimer Smith. His name is my name too. Whenever we go out, people always shout, there goes John Jacob Jinkleheimer Smith--” 

“DA DA DA DA DA DA DA!” Wade finished with a cheer. “I love that song! I was singing it--” he hesitated. “All night last night. Because I was singing Titanic and then I heard that song and--” 

Peter waited for Wade to figure it out, and it took the big mercenary all of fifteen seconds. 

“Good Christ, Spidey, are you the song that’s been stuck in my head?” 

“I think so.” Peter tried not to smile, but it was hard not to when Wade pumped his fist in the air excitedly. “But Wade listen--” 

“I’m Spidey’s soulmate!” Wade whooped and grabbed him off the ground into a big hug. “I KNEW I’d get a chance to tap this booty! Spidey this is AMAZING!” 

“Wade!” Most of Peter wanted to hug Wade right back, but he had something more important to talk about first, so he used a quick burst of his spidey strength to push away. 

“What?” Wade made grabby hands at him. “Come on, what’s the problem? Come here and--” he stopped, frowned. “Oh, you don’t want me to be your soulmate? I could see that. Yeah, alright that’s fine, but we can still hang out right, because--” 

“Stop.” Peter fwipped a patch of webbing at Wade’s mouth. “Stop talking and listen to what I’m about to say very very closely.” 

Wade nodded, eyes narrowing when Peter stepped close and lifted the merc’s mask up and off his head so he could see him clearly.   

“Us being soulmates doesn’t mean you get to automatically tap this ass.” Peter said firmly and Wade made a wounded sort of noise. “Eventually, probably, because I wasn’t really opposed to it before now anyway. But that’s not the point.” 

He traced light fingers over the scars he had only seen once or twice before, careful not to press too hard because he knew they hurt Wade constantly, even if he never complained. 

“The point is--” he smiled and stood on his toes so their mouths were level, hooking a finger in the webbing and tearing it off easily. “The point it, Wade, whether you are my soulmate or not--” 

Wade wet his lips, leaned in to try and kiss him, but Peter shook his head. 

“Whether you are my soulmate or not, Wade? If you get that stupid song from Titanic stuck in my head one more time? I will throw you off a building, I swear to god.” 

“You’re so hot when you’re pretending to be violent.” Wade whispered. “I’ll sing something else. What’s your favorite song? Is it the spider man theme? Is it “Big Butts” oh god please say its “Big Butts” I will literally combust, I swear to--” 

“Wade.” Peter grinned. “I’m going to head back to my place to have a drink and try and figure out how I feel about this whole thing. Are you coming with me?” 

“Am I invited?” Wade asked hopefully, and when Peter only looked at him, Wade’s eyes flew open wide. “I MEAN YES! OH MY GOD I’M COMING WITH YOU. I’M COMING RIGHT NOW! I’M COMING RIGHT NOW!” 

“There it is.” Peter linked their fingers and started tugging Wade towards his place. “I knew you wanted to say that.” 

Wade followed behind him closely, squeezing at Peter’s hand excitedly, and humming under his breath, and Peter stopped in his tracks when The Wedding March filled his head. 

“Nope.” he shook his head. “Not the wedding march either. I don’t want that stuck in my head at all.” 

“How do you feel about ABBA?” 

“Ugh...” the web crawler sighed. “Alright, ABBA is fine.” 

“Honey honey, how you thrill me! Uh huh! Honey honey!” 

“This is fine.” Peter started laughing when Wade scooped him up into his arms and took off running. “Oh god, I’m going to be singing 80s songs for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re damn right about that, baby boy.” 

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SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (32 of 32)

Chapter 1 Chapter 31

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :)

2 months later...

Killian Jones stepped aboard the lovely Jolly Roger, safely berthed in Storybrooke Harbor, her sails neatly furled for the time being. He automatically took in all of the details, checking her condition with a practiced eye as he made his way to the helm. Each step up to the quarterdeck chafed at the new, bittersweet rawness of his thigh. He trailed a tender hand along the wood, concluding with a fond pat on the spokes of the wheel itself. Then he turned to face the rest of the deck.

“Hello, love,” he murmured, reveling in the stillness of the moment, the faint breeze, the glassiness of the waves. He would always treasure his time aboard this glorious vessel; even more so now that he’d interacted with her living soul. “I have something to show you.”

He had been wearing loose sweatpants the last few days to accommodate the surprise in question, earning him more than one odd look as he interacted with the people of Storybrooke. But he didn’t care - the pain and inconvenience had been worth it. Rolling up the left leg, he tucked his hook beneath the fabric, near the top of his thigh. Then he peeled back the dressing that covered his newest tattoo.

Long weeks of recuperation had not been spent idle. Once his fractured wrist could tolerate gripping a pencil, Killian had spent hours sketching and perfecting his tribute, the design that now permanently graced his skin. More sessions would be needed to darken and perfect the scene, but even now, still unfinished, it was a thing of beauty. Much like the ship herself. Pictured cutting through gentle waves, the miniature Jolly Roger seemed to be on the verge of leaping into a brand new adventure. The long, pink furrow left by his hook had become the mainmast, and though the tattoo artist had advised against working over such a fresh scar, the results were flawless. Other accidental hook marks were cleverly disguised as rolling waves or seabirds, or the bowsprit at its rakish angle, racing toward an invisible horizon. And just below the hull, riding the crest of a playful wave, the single word, Marvel.

Killian traced the still-tender lettering of her name, a melancholy but affectionate smile on his face. “I wanted to thank you. For getting us home. For all that you sacrificed to do so. And before that… for everything else.”

He allowed the sweatpants leg to fall back into place, turning his gaze to take in the majesty of the ship above, her proud masts standing tall. The pennant bearing the crest of the Enchanted Forest royal family. The towering heights of the crow’s nest.

“For as long as we’ve been together, I’ve been assured of one thing - sometimes the only thing: that I could always count on you. My absolute marvel of a ship. My home. My only source of joy for many a long year. And I can’t thank you enough.”

He cast his face toward his adopted hometown. His wife, the family that warmed his heart in a way that he’d despaired of for so long. Emma was waiting for him at home; she had somehow known that he needed this time alone, and had gladly granted it. Killian gripped the wheel loosely, turning his focus back on the spirit that he now knew was listening to his every word.

“I may have gained a second home, another place to belong, much of which wouldn’t have been possible without your assistance. But even though I may not tread these decks as often, I hope you understand that I’ll always need you. I will treasure you for the rest of my days. And then, gods willing, perhaps some little pirates who come after me will inherit the honor.”

Glancing at the deck, he searched for any hint of Zeus’ potion staining the wood, but of course, all traces had long since disappeared. Quietly, he said,

“Regina and Emma are fairly certain that the magic immunity isn’t permanent. Give it a year, they say, and they’ll be back to waving away what ails me. You were exposed to a larger dose; it will likely take longer to wear off for you. When it does… perhaps we can contrive a way to bring back your human form. But even if we can’t…”

Killian paused, swallowed, and tightened his hand on the wheel. Resolve and sincerity colored his words as he voiced the promise he felt compelled to make.

“If I can convince you of this one thing… if you never believe anything else I ever say… please believe this: you will be taken care of. I know you’ve seen derelict ships, as I have, and the sight must pain you even more than it does me. But that will never be your fate. I will do whatever it takes to see to your maintenance, even after I’m gone. I swear this to you. And it’s the very least I can do in thanks for all you’ve done for me.”

Killian closed his eyes awhile and pictured Marvel’s face. He deliberately recalled her last moments: the sentiments she had expressed, the reasons for her sacrifice. And though the memory still brought a lump to his throat, it also inspired a quiet smile.

“I am happy, Marvel. I truly am. I miss you - gods, do I miss you. But because of you, I can go on enjoying this undeserved bliss. I wanted you to know that. Because… I want you to be happy, too.”

That was what always got to him the most. He could hear her clearly in his mind, expressing in so many ways her desire to be close to him. How much she had enjoyed interacting with him, and seeing his life on land… and her eventual preference for a human existence. She had given that up for love of him, and the thought never failed to bring tears to his eyes.

Killian ran a hand down his face and sniffed. “I was wrong before. In my interpretation of the old saying. It isn’t only the love of a captain for his ship that determines the status of his heart. It’s the ship’s loyalty to her captain; the utter compulsion to guard and protect that heart that signifies ‘belonging.’ And by surrendering your own desires... your hopes of ever being its sole possessor again… it’s like you gifted it to me, and only now am I free to do with it as I will.

“So here I am, giving it back to you. You have just as much claim to my heart as does Emma. I wouldn’t be able to explain it, but there it is.”

He shrugged, filled his lungs with cold sea air, and patted the wheel once more. Marvel’s seagull friend circled overhead, contentedly riding the breeze in search of an easy meal. Killian took a step toward the stairs, then stopped with a wry grin. “Almost forgot.”

From his coat pocket, he withdrew a silver chain with delicate links, old-fashioned in style but recognizable as a necklace. Dangling from the bottom was a sparkle of sapphire: Marvel’s earring, reworked into a lovely teardrop charm. With a few quick movements, he had wrapped the chain around the uppermost wheel spoke, tightly enough that even upside down, the necklace would not drop off. He backed up to survey his handiwork and broke into a broad grin. “It suits you.”

A larger than average swell nudged the ship then, and it was almost as if she were nodding in agreement. The blue charm wiggled an enthusiastic accompaniment. And Killian continued to smile all the way to the gangplank. His parting words were a contented assurance, given to the invisible presence always looking forward to his return.

“See you tomorrow. My beautiful Marvel.”

AN: A million thanks to everyone who stuck with this until the end! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! Extra special thanks for all of the wonderful comments. I may not have replied to every single one, but I treasured them all!

Coming up next is my contribution to the OUAT Winter Whump event! Posting begins November 30.

Hope to see you all again for future adventures with our faves!

[fangsforhire]

{ So I'll find what lies BENEATH; your SICK twisted smile. }

FLASHBACK;

MORIARTY.

A mere WHISPER amongst men. A name crafted to produce mass fear and panic. Genocide heavy in the air. Oh while it was completely true he did disregard most rumours. How could he idly let this one pass by? ( M so anonymous that he’d become infamous within the criminal world. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. ) One too many times of hearing about him had indeed piqued his interest. How could one human attract the continual attention of deadly convicts?

Head shook as he SNATCHED the newspaper article and flung it carelessly aside. Getting in touch with the right people proved second nature; but he hadn’t expected to be approached, to be ensnared within his spiders web like a moth to a flame. Crafty fucker wasn’t he? Keeping his distance had proved effortless; executing expected targets, remaining in touch with only one man. ( Sure, M had captured his eye- said to possess genius intellect but he was a ghost too. ) Few knew his name. Destined to forget the second it left their lips. He’d eradicated, erased any footprint through history. With centuries under his belt, it was easy-peasy. It also aided him in the fact he owned no paper trail - created rather than born unlike the majority of all species.

Perhaps that’s why he’d naively ASSUMED it would all be plain sailing - that he’d endure contracts until the man ceased to exist. He hadn’t expected to become so intrigued… and yet, curiosity wasn’t a sin, no? When you play with fire, you get burned. He’d discovered this the hard way, and so why was he prepared to dance in the flames now? ( It was simple; the headline had spread - Moriarty was dead. Yeah right. Hadn’t you heard pigs can also fly? ) Eyes blinked rapidly as he re-read the words printed; disbelief evident. No text - no phone call. Radio silence; oh wasn’t it awful? It made his skin crawl. Sure M had become noisy, engaging the media but to commit suicide so… messily? From what he’d researched on the man; while theatrics was his style; he loathed getting his hands dirty. So why would he change tactics now?

‘Doesn’t make sense. Fucking imbeciles.’

The NIGGLING escalated, prompting him to slip trade-mark weapon into the confines of his jeans and follow all leads. It was after exhausting the obvious he’d found himself upon the roof; sniffing the air suspiciously. ( The stench of blood profound and yet - really; O-positive? The most popular blood type known to man? Disappointment became overwhelming; wrinkling his nose in disgust. Surely one such as Moriarty exhibited the rarest? ) Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose; using inhuman senses to locate blood traces the police had overlooked.

Not even forensics could impress or out-do a vampire seeking ANSWERS.

Getting enough DNA evidence entailed half hanging from the edge; using ancient abilities and gaining excruciating temples. ( However somewhat grimly satisfied; it was deposited inside the vials he used to sate thirst. ) Sacrificing them in the name of science and ignoring all instinct- dead man's blood utterly… revolting. Not appetising in the least and oh my word did it stink; urging him to empty his stomach contents as heavy duties followed the very path Holmes himself had.

Thankfully SECURITY had died down as dusk fell - permitting him to drop gracefully and land without a sound. ( If anyone witnessed the display; they would have seen nothing but a blur, moving with clinical precision, a smirk gracing his lips. ) After all, if anything could unearth such mystery it was he. 

PRESENT;

TIME had passed like the pulse behind a bruise; enough facts revealed that he was becoming cockily confident. All the while Moriarty’s empire was being dismantled - unfaithful followers fleeing pathetically across the continent. ( Jesus, you’d think they had no self-respect. Shredding documentation, displaying cowardice. Surely they expected to be rounded up like cattle? How could they believe he was as deceased as the media claimed? ) Did only he hold enough brain cells to do nothing? Lying low, calmly preparing for the moment he’d pursue him like a predator hunting prey? Tracking held it’s difficulties but locating specific humans even ones as elusive as Moriarty was very much achievable. With the right pressure. The rest seemed blind and he wasn’t surprised when only he established Sherlock Holmes was also still unfortunately breathing.

Now, squinting through the sniper SCOPE; his frustrations increased tenfold. Chin resting on the table he’d shifted closer to the window, achieving that perfect vantage point. Watson, Sherlocks… pet - unleashed and displaying grief was sickening. ( The grave had been placed with tender loving care; for no one dared speak ill of the dead. Lying through their teeth to lessen their own guilt. ) What did they always drone? He was wonderful; never hurt a fly. Yeah, fucking right. Codswallop. Even the ex-army Doctor was performing a heartening tribute; all the while Lucien could see clearly, Holmes viewing his own memorial.

Finger itched to pull the TRIGGER but thankfully, he refrained.

Well, the BASTARD surely was cold he’d give him that. He mused - after snapping several photos undetected. Had he and Moriarty contracted the idea together or were it a sheer coincidence they were both alive and kicking? ( Packing up; he listened to the fading presence; already aware of Holmes’s master plan. ) He was going to disassemble what was rest of his nemesis which was amusing really. Had Moriarty persuaded him over to the dark side? Did he believe he was doing it all for the greater good? A tongue ran over teeth as he bound his time and discreetly returned to his car, armed with the proof he’d required for his own peace of mind.

Leverage.

If SHERLOCK was alive; Jim definitely was. There was no uncertainty anymore. Like following bread crumbs; for that delightful crimson substance he’d analysed? An average john-doe; no doubt collateral damage in the grand scheme of things; it was geniuses in its own right and yet it had infuriated him to no end. ( Why hadn’t anyone else bothered to believe the impossible? Were they all sheep shepherded by their master? ) He had damn good reason to eliminate them on the sight. Probably would have done had he not been aware of Holmes’s intentions. Let the deducer try to dig dirt up on him. He’d pat his back if he managed to obtain a single scrap, his tracks far too covered to care.

No, his focus was on searching for M and well - miraculously hours later, he’d hit the jackpot. ( Too soon; much too soon. ) Moriarty wanted to be found - he may as well be wearing a neon sign that screamed to those with any remote common sense. Were they all staring through splatters of mud? Why hadn’t they worked it out? Or was it the conscience he lacked that kept them from considering the alternative?

Well, whatever it WAS; sitting on such knowledge was boring and it wasn’t like he had anything to lose. For fear did not plague him; the only thing tending to keep him awake at night being an undesirable boner. ( So uncouth but then no one was perfect; not even the slippery snake, he’d located nearby, no doubt eagerly awaiting his arrival. ) For surely he found this entire affair tedious. His existence dragging just as Lucien was his feet, nails dug into palms.

Strikes of anticipation. Staking the place out - INSTINCT.

Alas, only once he’d taken his own PRECAUTIONS; did he shift closer towards the building; listening intently. Sure enough, this scent was more like it; sweet and intoxicating. Consuming his very being; taunting the devil within. ( Down boy; this is business, not pleasure. ) Scolding himself for premature excitement he found the opening he was looking for. All but purring as he gained access to the flat; azure blues twinkling in mischief.

‘Well well. Should I say some cheesy shit like gotcha, kitten. Or is that too cliche?’

[ellanainthetardis]

Hey after yesterday's prompt, I wonder if you would consider writing something where Finnick sees Effie in her underwear and how the situation would be totally different. Haymitch's reaction probably as well. :D

Here you go! Some steamy crack to start the week! [x]

Aphrodisiacs

Haymitch watched the boy movehis rook with a quiet sigh of despair. He had been trying to teach Finnick howto be a decent chess-player for two solid years now but the kid wasn’t anatural at it. Four’s victor wasn’t as hopeless at the game as his escort wasbut it was a close thing.

“Not good?” Finnick winced.

“Think it through.” Haymitchrebuked, making a grab for his glass only to realize it was empty. He hauledhimself off the couch and made his way to the liquor cart in the corner of thepenthouse’s living-room, sparing a quick glance for the city lights spillingfrom the bay window. Even in the middle of the night, the Capitol’s sky waspolluted by neon beams and flashing lights. “You’ve got to anticipate youropponent’s next move, boy.”

He poured himself some whiskey,not offering the eighteen year-old kid a refill because he didn’t really fancygetting scolded by Mags in the morning.

“I’m trying.” Finnick grumbled,taking his rook back to its original place to study the chessboard.

Haymitch rubbed his face andglanced at the clock, not surprised to find it was well past one in themorning. On the muted TV, the live feed of the arena was still going strong. Caesar’sface was in the bottom left corner as he commented the action, tangible proofin Haymitch’s opinion that they expected the Sixty-ninth Hunger Games to get avictor tonight. Caesar only appeared at night if the Gamemakers were suresomething interesting would happen. Two and Three still had all their tributesand the Career pack was currently hunting the boy from Six. Once they wouldhave taken him down, Haymitch figured it would be a second bloodbath, the kindof finale the Capitol loved.

The elevator chimed not longafter he had taken back his seat and Finnick had finally decided to move hisknight instead. Bold move. Stupid but bold. The trap was obvious and clumsy toHaymitch’s eyes but the fact that the kid was trying to set traps at all wasalready improvement.

“Haymitch?” Effie’s shrill voicecalled from the hallway, loud enough to wake the dead.

He rolled his eyes. What if hehad been asleep? Would she just have come storming in like a banshee and wokenhim up? Who was he kidding? Of course,she would have.

“Still kicking!” he shouted backbecause she had been reluctant to leave him to his own devices as if he were a child who needed a babysitter and nota grown man. “And what do you know! The Center’s still standing!”

He didn’t get an answer to thatvery clever retort. Finnick was watching him with a small grin, his green eyessparkling in amusement even as he tossed a few glances over his shoulder,waiting for Twelve’s escort to appear. She never did so Haymitch figured shehad gone to bed.

A whole night of partying withher silly friends for whoever’s birthday… She was probably exhausted.

He snorted.

Finnick lifted his eyebrows in asilent question that he waved away. With Effie Trinket, some things were betterleft unexplained.

They didn’t talk much during thenext minutes, Haymitch patiently lured Finnick in the web he had startedweaving since his very first move while avoiding his trap, making the boy sighin irritation. He was about to call checkmate when he heard the clicking ofheels in the corridor…

“Oh, Haymitch…” Effie sing-sang. “I have a surprise for you…”

He knew that tone and he guessed something terrible was about tohappen seconds before she appeared on the living-room’s threshold in all theglory of a pink and black corset bodice complete with ribbon suspenders,stockings and ridiculously high heels.

Finnick gaped.  And stared.

Haymitch bolted out of thearmchair and to her before he could think it through, confused by her own lackof reaction. She was just standing there, staring back, not making any move tocover herself or retreat to the safety of the corridor…

Now, let’s be honest, that wasthe kind of surprises he would have lovedif he had been alone.

The way the kid’s gaze wasroaming on her though? He didn’t love that so much. And he loved it even lessknowing Finnick had had a crush on her forever and that he would probably havevery wet dream that night.

“You mind?” he spat at the boy,trying to shield her with his body, shoving her back toward the corridor.

She was still strangely unresponsiveand it wasn’t until he took a good look at her that he realized why.

She was torched.

She reeked of tequila, her eyeswere glassy and she wasn’t so steady on her legs. She grabbed his arms with ahurt look on her face.

“Don’t you like my surprise?”she whined, her lips wobbling.

That was a drunk Effie for you.She went from complete happiness to total despair in the remarkable space oftwo seconds.

“You get that Finnick’s here,yeah?” he growled. “You remember I told you we were gonna play chess tonight?You need glasses or what?”

She blinked and peered over hisshoulder. “Oh… Yes, he is. How rude of me. Hello, Finnick, dear!”

Finnick was still speechless andcould only wave at her.

Haymitch spared him a glare.“You’re gonna pick that jaw off the floor any time soon, boy?”

Four’s victor blinked, clearedhis throat and finally realized whyhe shouldn’t be staring. The kid flushed bright red and looked around until hiseyes fell on the jacket Haymitch had discarded earlier. He grabbed it andcrossed the distance to hand it to Twelve’s victor. “Here.”

Haymitch snatched it from hishand and wrapped it around Effie’s body but it didn’t do much to hide… Well…Everything was pretty much on display. He supposed it was a small mercy she waswearing lingerie at all, she could have come barging in naked.

“You should pay attention tome.” Effie pouted, tossing her arms around his neck. “I want you to payattention to me.”

“Oh, I’m paying attention.” hescoffed. “Everyone’s paying attention.”

“Is Finnick leaving soon?” shepurred, nuzzling his check before playfully biting down on his earlobe. “I wantyou to play with me now. Not chessthough. Chess is boring. I want fun. I want…”

“Yeah.” he cut her off beforeshe could say something they would never be able to take back. He wasn’t surehow he was going to keep hearty denials that he wasn’t sleeping with her after that. The tips of his ears were red –and so was the back of his neck, he was pretty sure.

Finnick was equally crimson.“I’m going to go now.”

“She’s drunk.” he tried toargue. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Sure.” the boy grinned but itturned to a small wince when Effie tangled a hand in Haymitch’s hair andforced  his head to the side to lick hisneck all the way up.

Haymitch almost choked because…“How many fucking bottles did youdrink?”

“A lot.” she hummed. “And there were those cocktails too… They aresupposed to get you… In the mood. Idrank a lot of those.”

“No kidding.” he deadpanned.

“Alright, I’m off.” Finnickinsisted, jamming the elevator button with his finger. He actually looked a bitspooked now, like he didn’t trust Effie not to have his way with Haymitch withhim standing right there and Haymitch wasn’t sure he was wrong to worry.

He waited until the boy was goneto push her away from him. She whined and immediately tried to sneak closeragain.

“Those cocktails… What the fuck are they?” he frowned.

“Aphrodisiacs.” she hummed. “Ididn’t really want them but Dawn kept buying them for me and it would have beenrude not to drink them. I liked the tequila shots better.”

“Dawn.” he repeated. “Who’sDawn?”

“A girl I used to hook up with.”she dismissed, shrugging off his jacket. And fuck but that corset bodice thing looked good on her. Now that Finnick was gone and he was finally able toappreciate it… His pants suddenly felt tight. “I think she really wanted meto go home with her.” she continued, her fingers traveling down his chest andthen back up. When she started toying with the buttons of his shirt, he didn’tstop her. “I really wanted you to fuck me though.”

“She drugged you?” he growled – because woman or not, there would behell to pay about that.

She stopped unbuttoning hisshirt to look up at him with a confused look, clearly trying to understand thequestion. “Do not be preposterous.” She slurred that last word slowly anduncertainly. “It is just a cocktail. Perfectly harmless. The tequila is thereal devil.”

She managed to get his shirtopen with a content sigh and pushed it off his shoulders, apparently not caringit remained stuck around his arms since he was still holding her at a safedistance. Well, probably not that safe given that her nails were scratching hisnipple.

“Effie.” he grumbled, trying tohold her further away but she whined and bit down on her bottom lip in aridiculously endearing pout. “You get you just made a pass at me in front of Finnick, yeah? You just stood therehalf-naked in front of the boy and you didn’t even care. Don’t tell me you’re in your right mind.”

She blinked and blinked again,looking upset now. “It is not myfault.”

“Didn’t say it was…” he cuthimself off and shook his head. “Okay. Bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“Bed, yes.” she beamed, suddenly happy again.

He hated when she was wasted.It was much easier being the one completely drunk than being the one takingcare of them.

“Your bed.” he clarified.

“Of course.” she chuckled andthen wrinkled her nose. “Your room is a mess.”

“I’m not fucking you when you’re like this.” he insisted. He stoppedfighting to keep her at bay but just because it was easier to steer her in thedirection of her bedroom when she was snuggled close against him.

“But I thought you would likeit.” she complained, looking down at herself and running her hand on thefabric.

“Oh, I like it” he muttered.“Bet the boy liked it too. The little shitcouldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Language.” She clucked hertongue but she did sound a little put out. She wrapped her arms around his neckagain, making it hard for him to maneuver. He grabbed her waist and she justhopped on like it was perfectly fine for her to lock her legs around his hipson a whim. Her giggles were loud in his ear. “See? I knew you wanted me.”

“When don’t I?” he snorted,hoping she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. Not that he would lether forget the main events though. He would take great delight in making fun ofher and embarrassing her.

He managed to get to her roomand tried to drop her on the bed but she refused to let go of him. She was likean octopus and the things her mouth was doing to his neck shouldn’t have beenallowed because it made it really hard to think.Fuck, but she had him throbbing forher and she hadn’t even properly touched him yet.

“What’s in those aphrodisiaccocktails?” he grumbled.

“Ginger and ale and a lightrecreational drug.” she hummed. “It is all quiteharmless. They are pink with golden specks. Very pretty.”  

“Can’t believe you would bestupid enough to drink that.” he snapped,sitting down on the bed because it was the only way he could think of gettingher off him. She didn’t move out of his lap though. She seemed content to rubherself on him. He clenched his jaw but let her because… Well, fuck, he didn’t have a good reason. He knewshe wasn’t really herself and it was wrong but she was begging him and it wasn’t like they were strangers who had neverslept together before. Besides, she looked like she was in heat and he kind ofhoped if she got it out of her system she would be… a little less high. “Fuck, Effie…”

He groaned and dropped hisforehead on her shoulder because the rhythm she had going… It was good. He was going to come in his pantslike a teenager but it was all so good.

It clearly wasn’t working outthat well for her though because she sneaked a hand between their bodies.

She was touching herself, itwasn’t taking advantage if she was the one doing it… He kept telling himselfthat, not sure it was right, not sure it was okay… He was pretty sure theywould have an explanation the next day anyway so…

“I did not want to sleep withDawn.” she insisted, a little short of breath. “I am strictly into penisesthose days. Yours to be specific.” She laughed. “Isn’t it funny? I am Haymitchoriented…”

“Shit.” he spat and he just… He gave up.  He flopped on his back and he watched herhump him and get herself closer and closer to the climax she wanted, onlybatting her hands away when she tried to open his pants. She came with a sharplittle cry and he knew, just at the sound, that it wasn’t a good orgasm but shedropped on his chest anyway and nestled there like a content cat, leaving himto close his eyes and clench his jaw because of the hard-on nothing wasstimulating anymore. It took a very longtime before his erection disappeared and it wasn’t helped in anyway by thewoman napping on his body.

He found himself petting thepink wig, fighting off sleep. He tried to move her at some point but shestarted grumbling and holding him tighter and he decided it was safer to haveher asleep on top of him rather than in that sort of mood again so he just… drifted off.

He woke up to pained groans anda series of muttered obscenities he wasn’t aware she knew. Her familiar weightwas still on top of him but they had shifted at some point and now most of herlower body was framed by his spread legs – not his most glorious position. Shehad been using his stomach as a pillow and she had her face pressed against thescar on his side – not in a let me wake youup with sex way either.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he teased.“Nasty headache?”

She groaned again and tried tocurl up which ended up with her knees propped on his right one and her torsoweighting down on parts of him that liked her to be pressed upon them. She was a little heavy for such a delicate area though and he pulled herup higher. She immediately hid her face in the crook of his neck and it tookhim a second to realize her problem was the light spilling from the windowbecause nobody had bothered pulling the curtains closed.

“Haymitch, there is an elephantpounding on my head.” she whined. “Make it stop.”

“Sorry, no can’t do. That’s whathappens to naughty girls who take drugs.” he mocked, not bothering to hide hisirritation.

“What are you on about?” shemuttered and then she winced. “Oh, the aphrodisiacs… They are perfectly…” Andthen she stopped and lifted her head, squinting at him because of the sunlight.“Did I truly walk around wearing…”

“Yeah.” he confirmed.

“In front of Finnick?” she insisted, lookingpanicked.

“Oh, yeah.” he shrugged.  “Lickedmy neck too.”

She shut her eyes tight andpressed her face against his shoulder with a disgruntled noise. “I am never drinking again.” She peeked up athim briefly. “Did I come on you?”

“Yeah.” he said but he was a bithesitant, not sure if she was going to be angry about that or not. She hadn’texactly been in any state to consent to anything and he didn’t want to be that asshole.

“You didn’t…” She let her sentence trail off.

“No.” he winced.

“Oh.” she breathed out and thennuzzled his shoulder. “I owe you one then but later if it is alright with you. Right now I feel like dying.”

“You’re not mad, then?” heasked, knowing he should have quitted while he was ahead.

“Mad?” she repeated. “Why wouldI be mad? You took care of me. If either of us should be mad, it shouldprobably be you.”

“I’m mad.” he scowled. “I don’t like you taking drugs. The state youwere in… Anyone could have done anything to you and you’d have probably thanked them too.”

She pursed her lips. “I was not that far gone. Just… uninhibited. My uninhibited self verymuch wants you as it turns out. Poor Dawn was very disappointed.”

“I bet.” he scoffed, coiling ahand around her nape. “Finnickwasn’t, let me tell you.”

“Oh dear.” she groaned againsthis skin. Then she grew very still and she bolted out of the bed and into thebathroom. The door slammed shut mere seconds before he heard the unmistakablesounds of retching.

“Hope you learn your lesson!” hetaunted, comfortable in his hypocrisy. “It’s never fun the next morning!”

[blueshipstealstars]

CALAMITY 01: Out of my league

10 years later I finished writing this for Fate/Insertia’s first Calamity! Hopefully it’s not too rough, it’s been a while since I wrote lot ;w;

Ota & Achilles | CALAMITY 01 | Fate/Insertia | 2.9k | 

Summary: Ota Blue, a young magus tries to summon her first servant for her fight in the holy Grail war and ends up with a servant beyond her expectations.

Trailing her fingers along the ridge of the dust coated shield, Ota sighed in nervous habit. She had come to the strange area of Trifas several weeks ago and she still had not summoned a servant. Was the novice nervous? Was she hesitant to still even partake in this war? Did she even believe someone of her skill level would survive? The answer to all of that was as obvious as the rain that was causing the glass doors to her small patio of her new quaint apartment to tremble at the force of wind and rain.

Deciding to at least free the relic of its aged confines she pulled her tired body off the couch to retrieve a cloth and something to clean the ancient metal with. Running a pale colored dish cloth under the faucet’s water she couldn’t help but wonder what, or rather who, would be summoned from this surprising gift that she had received from her old teacher. A strange but pleasant old man who she adored since she was young and still loved to catch up with. Honestly she had to thank him even more than she already had when he insisted she take this shield with her for her journey. Without his gift, Ota would have been frankly...a little screwed on the relic needed for summoning. Sure she got what was needed but really how did the grail expect a twenty four year old grad student to acquire something of value to obtaining a decent enough servant? Clearly it was rigged for those who’s whole lives, generations even, had been preparing for this moment. Someone whom she was certainly not.

Ota Blue was never the kind of person who EVER thought she would be chosen by the mythical Holy Grail. Hell, she didn’t even think that thing was real until she was bestowed her very own set of command spells and confirmed it with another mage in her neighborhood. Which there were few of, she had reminded herself plenty enough times as she grew up trying to teach herself at least some form of magic throughout the years. Her parents were shocked she even had a knack for it. Since they had given up on the skill just as their parents had, choosing to focus on more current and ordinary jobs. It wasn’t as if Ota hated them for not being able to teach her or be able to pass down any significant magical crest. Yes she was obviously disappointed but if she was frank about it, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been used to relying on herself to learn other hobbies or skills. Independency was something instilled in her she since she was fairly young. Between family ties breaking, deaths, serious injuries, a stubborn sibling, and frankly a little lazier than they should be parents she just got used to being depended on and having to solve her own problems the best she could on her own.

And that’s what made this so scary. She had no idea what she was or was going to be doing. Surely she was in over her head with this whole war nonsense.limited knowledge to what the seven classes were and how they responded to each other, how to summon and what was needed, how command spells work, and how to win this god forsaken thing, she presumed she was up a creek without a paddle. But yet...part of her was sort of excited at the anticipation of what was to come. “Anything could happen, right?”

She couldn’t help but laugh horribly at quietly spoken words. Her body was practically hunched over the now mostly clean shield. Her grip iron tight as she let a worrisome chuckle rumble up through her. Just as she could admit she was excited, she could admit she was just as terrified, if not more, at the same. Underprepared and underqualified, Ota stood up and let the shield fall back onto the couch. Greek designs now showing predominantly on its metal surface.

Pushing her blonde hair from her eyes she steeled herself as she begun to use the materials she prepared for the ritual to begin the set up for the summoning. Being the presence and detailed type it probably took far longer than she intended. But busy work always soothed her nerves so it’s not as if Ota minded the extra hour delay before she had to stand in front of this grand array and call forth someone to help achieve her goal in this war. A goal...a goal that she still didn’t confidently have an answer to…

Shaking the thought from her mind she promptly begun the summoning. Cautiously towing near the circle, her familiar threads bound throughout its design to strengthen her mana connection. Mind you it wasn’t probably needed but she did not want the possibility of the ritual failing all because she possibly was so incompetent at using her energy.

“Let silver and steel be the essence.

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation

Let bronze be the colour I pay tribute to

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.”

The array begun to glow a sharp white light, hues by blue. It filled the dark room with a cooling sensation. As energy flowed through the space and caused the curtains and Otas clothing to be pulled about. Her stance held firm as she continued, her left arm still poised outward towards the circle.

“I hereby declare.

Your body shall serve under me.

My fate shall be your sword.

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail

If you will submit to this will and this reason…Then answer!”

“An oath shall be sworn here!

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!”

The light from the array seemed to begun sparking out, sharp jolts licking at air. The visual causing Ota’s head to lean back a bit partly worried by the sight. Nevertheless she continued, voice never wavering.

“From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,

Come forth from the ring of restraints,

Protector of the Holy Balance!”

With that the build up energy seemed to spark into all directions. She quickly pulled her arms up to cover her face from the jump of light and bouncing energy in precaution.

It was only when another voice raised that she finally begun to lower her arms.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you managed to summon quite the servant I’ll say.” He sounded pretty sure of himself, Ota thought even before she looked at him.

Blinking quietly she couldn’t help but let her head tilt slightly at the sight. The being across from her was tall and covered in dark armor. Her eyes focused on the orange sash that was wrapped across the front of his chest plate. The strong orange only held her attention for a moment before her eyes finally came up to his face, her brow noticeably raising. She didn’t know what to expect but this guy with green hair sporting armor was not that she knew that for sure.

Before she could comment or even say anything the man strolled over to her. His taller height becoming far more apparent and causing Ota’s back to crane back a bit at the stranger before entering her space. He seemed to be eyeing her just as she was doing him. His gloved hand holding his chin as he observed her, head tilting as well even. His green fringe sliding over his cheek and covering his one eye partially.

Swallowing, Ota finally spoke up, “W-What is it?”

This caught his attention and he stood back up, that sly looking smile still on his lips this whole time. “Just being nosy same as you, little lady. Seems I have an interesting master this time around.”

The question of how he assumed she was even his master did cross her mind but it was quickly tossed aside when she jolted at the sensation of him taking hold of her left hand. Preoccupied with curiously examining her command spells Ota was quick to rip her hand from his gloved one. He looked at her still bent over, his eyes widened in surprise at her reaction but not angry. Just shocked by it. Straightening up and even having his arms bend up in a sign of peace he smiled at her, “Hey now, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. That would damn foolish of me to do that right, Master?”

Ota squinted up at him, still holding her hand close. She didn’t like how his statement implied an apology but his tone jus sounded like he was teasing her. After a moment, she let it slide and dropped her guard graduall. Yes she was being cautious but she was also being a little too cautious. This was a being summoned by her from the grail to fulfill her goals in the war right? So there wasn’t any reason to presume he would harm her. Still, it was hard to not want to put some guard up around someone like him…

Sighing, Ota’s shoulders shank a bit, “No you’re right. Sorry...Ah-.” It dawned on her she still didn’t know his name let alone even his servant class. Awkwardly she stared at him, trying to figure the best way to ask for that information without seeming rude or worse—awkward as hell.

To her surprise, it seemed that he got the hint from just her sudden pause, he began to grin widely as he introduced himself to his new master. “Summoned by the Grail, I have come as a Servant of Rider. I am the great hero of Greece, Achilles.”

Just as Ota’s eyes widened at his statement, his name dawning realization in her just before she became distracted by his sudden kneeling in front of her. Which was far more embarrassing to the young magus than this grand hero ever think. Hell, Ota could bet the thought never crossed his mind.

“And I know the part about my heel is pretty well know these days, but anyone who tries to prey on that is going to have to catch me first so don’t worry. The name “mankind's fastest legs” isn’t just for show, Master.” He said, confidence in his eyes as he gave her a smug wink.

He was. He was too much! Just too much!!

Ota’s legs started to backtrack as she stared at him wordlessly. She...was this...H O W DID SOMEONE LIKE HER SUMMON SUCH A PROMINENT HERO?!?

As Achilles stood, his eyes never left her form. Almost seeming unsure what she was thinking. And thank god he didn’t, because Ota Blue’s mind was fucking all over the place. It was a madhouse up there as she stared at the space around Achilles instead of directly at him.

“I need to sit down...s-sorry.” She finally got out before staggering to the nearby kitchen to crumble into one of the two seats occupying the small table in that room. By the time Rider poked his head into the kitchen he found his master with her head in her hands. Soft sounding mumbling emitting from her bent over form. He sort of felt...bad? He expected her to be amazed and excited, proud perhaps, not supposedly having a breakdown. What a strange woman he was paired up with…

Still, he carefully stepped over to her seat and crouched down on his legs. Head cocking to the side to try and look up and under her arms at her face. “Hey...are you alright?” He asked with an unsure but still apparent smile as his hands rested on his knees. He waited quietly for a moment, even when she gave a sharp inhale, and only leaned back on his heels when she finally pulled her head away from her hands. She shook her head at him before letting out a fragile laugh while running a hand through her blonde locks. “Y-Yeah, sorry...I just...wow...?” Her head dropped again as another laugh trickled out. Her hands spread outward across the table as she just rambled strongly towards the opposing counter. “You’re just far more than I expected. Hell- I didn’t even EXPECT to summon a servant properly? So it’s just...really shocking? To receive you? I sort of feel out of my league even more with this stuff. Sorry it’s not that I’m not happy I got someone like you. I just...I’m sort of terrified I’m gonna let you down, ya know? I’m really not the skilled and experienced type and heck, I still kinda think the Grail choose me as some weird joke or somethin’…” she mumbled out her poorly phrased and rather self deprecating monologue. She still didn’t dare look to her side at the servant still crouched beside her, the fear of seeing a look of pity was too much and definitely get the few tears threatening her eyes to spill. How pathetic she must seem...Complaining over something good happening to her simply because she feels ill suited to compete alongside him.

“Huh...so that’s what you’re like,” Achilles plainly said aloud causing Ota’s head to turn away from and towards the wall on the other side of her more as she awaited the criticism to come.

Her shoulders stiffened in defense of the sound of him standing again. “If you want to know my thought on this whole matter, I’d flat out tell you that you’re totally overthinking! Seriously, you’re kicking yourself out of the race before it’s even started. Well I assume it hasn’t yet anyway. So what if you’re not the strongest mage? That’s why you have me, as your servant it’s quite literally part of my job to protect you and keep you alive so stop worrying so much. You’re not alone in this war so don’t ever think like that along as I’m around. Otherwise you’d just be hurting my feelings.”

She couldn’t refuse the urge to look up at him with a rather displeased and disinterested expression at that last sentence. It was laced with this tone he seemed to have that only screamed teasing sass. But the rest of his words carried a sincerity that she truly wanted to believe in. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before looking back at him as he dropped himself into the chair next to her. Watching his rather smug expression as he leaned his face into his hand as he gazed over at her amazed she sighed seeming a little annoyed.

“You know you have that air about you that makes a person want to either smack you or hug you right?” She uttered without any real malice in her tone which caused him to snicker in response.

“Hey I was just trying to cheer you up! You got so panicked right off the bat. And besides what I said was true but it doesn’t mean I can’t be honest about my feelings too. Unless you’re secretly the type of master that would prefer I not give my input…” His expression quickly turned annoyed and Ota felt the hair on the back of her neck tingle. Before she could comment he reeled it back and smiled at her again, “Let’s just say I’m not the type to idly wait to be told what to do. Especially if I don’t like the order. That’s just not going to go over well, alright Maaaaaster?” He drew out her role as if to hide the true distaste at the idea of being forced to obey another’s command.

“Ah… If it helps, I don’t think I would prefer that type of servant?” This caused Achilles’s attention to perk right up, “Oh?”

Ota nodded briefly as she rubbed the back of her neck explaining more, “Yeah. I’m sort of the kind of person who likes to do her own thing when she’s in her own element. But when it comes to well, stuff like a magical war. I’m sort of a fish out of water. So it would be actually really nice to have someone to bounce things off of. If that’s alright with you...I’m sure you have way more experience with stuff like this than I would ever come to know so really any input you have would actually be nice.” Ota toyed with a pen on the table as she spoke her thoughts on how she would possibly like their relationship to go during the war. She was inexperienced and she knew it, she was going to have to rely on Achilles to help her through this. So needless to say, she was thankful that he seemed to feel so strongly on sharing his opinions and ideas openly with her.

Letting her body relax she smiled at him, “Seriously, I’m glad to have a servant like you by my side. So I’ll do my best to support you, alright?”

Part of her wanted to admit that sounded more embarrassing aloud but before she could retract it Achilles smiled back and leaned over to ruffle her short locks. “Sure thing, Master. Don’t let me down kay?” He teased not really believing that she could.