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fictional-orphan-smackdown · 4 months

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ROUND 3, MATCH 5!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Trafalgar D. Water Law (Once Piece)

Law is a genocide survivor who saw his parents' dead bodies along with experiencing a whole bunch of other messed up stuff (his sister burning to death, the people of his country being shot for being poisoned by their own government, being terminally ill, escaping the genocide by hiding under a pile of dead bodies, etc etc). After all this shit, he eventually got forcibly adopted by this one guy and dragged around the world looking for a cure for his illness. Right when Law started to trust and love his new caretaker, he is also brutally murdered in front of him. Law's life goal for the next decade is to get revenge on the person who killed his adoptive father. Vote for him bc he needs a goddamn win for once in his life. He is the people's princess and the narrative's favorite punching bag. Also, his depressed, PTSD-ridden autistic swag and scoliosis realness have captivated me body and soul

His biological parents were killed (before his eyes, by the governement) when he was 10(?). He then joined a bunch of pirates, knowing he wouldn't have much time (and will) left to live anyway. There he was sort of adopted by the Big Bad Pirate's brother, who managed to save his life, only for said brother to be killed (more or less before Law's eyes, by the Big Bad Pirate), when he was 13. You could say he was orphaned twice.

He’s literally got the double orphan special (Parents died and then the guy who took him in after them died too) that’s a 50% increase in orphannedness above your standard orphan. He’s also cool as fuck.

Law's parents were already on death row along with him and his younger sister due to a disease that shortens the life span of a person. The disease can only be passed down genetically and has afflicted everyone in the town that he has grown up in. Due to the sudden outbreak and unknown nature of the disease to the rest of the world panicked and the government closed off his city, killing everyone there. That is how his first set of parents died when he was 10, I think. Still then Law would later join a pirate crew where he would eventually be taken away 2-3 years later by Corazon, marine working undercover as a pirate in order to take down this brother, who is the captain of crew Law joined. Corazon took him in order to cure Law's disease which he still had and to get him away from Doflamingo, his brother. Over the course of 6 months the two became close with Corazon essentially becoming a father figure to Law. I am simplify this but at some point of Doflamingo catches on to Corazon being a double agent and finds him. Doflamingo then proceeds to find Corazon and shoot him in front of a chest that Law was hiding in.

Law has faced many hardships since he was a child, but used his experiences to become an extremely powerful doctor. His pirate crew theme and his Devil Fruit ability are all owed to his adoptive father. Law acts really gruff and serious most of the time, initially seeming like a cool, calculating character and feared swordsman… but one second around the Straw Hats and you quickly see just how silly he really is. He hates bread. He collects coins. He is obsessed with ninjas and superhero comic books. In one arc he just fucked around with his powers and INVENTED harpies and centaurs. Oh, and his First Mate is a polar bear. What could be better than that?

The government ordered to kill everyone in Law's country due to everyone getting "fantasy lead poisoning" disease, which was wrongfully thought to be contagious stroked. Law's family was living at the hospital when they got attacked, his parents (who were doctors) got killed and the hospital got set on fire with his little sister inside. He managed to fled the country hiding in a pile of corpses and ended up joining a pirate crew lead by Doflamingo. Law knew he had the disease and it was going to kill him in three years. Doflamingo's brother, Rosinante took Law hospital to hospital to find a cure but they always rejected him thinking the disease was contagious. Then they learned that someone had offered Doflamingo a devil fruit that could grant him immortality. The fruit could also cure Law so Rosinante stole it and made Law eat it. He then made sure Law could escape Doflamingo and got killed by his brother.

dude spent his childhood getting thrown out of windows, while dying from a deadly disease (that was eventually cured) but while he was still showing symptoms of the disease no one would go near him out of fear and disgust, save for his father figure.

nothing can ever go right for this man. its fucking hilarious in the series and makes for some wonderful angst content. i want everyone who has not watched or read One Piece to know that, for half of his 'main' arc, he's carried around like a potato sack by MULTIPLE people. he is a damsel in despair. he didn't even need to be carried, he honestly could've walked, but he had to save that energy so he could take the like 17 lead bullets out of him. he's always getting shot or thrown out a window and he's severely injured more often than not. he's also a doctor/surgeon, one that should be able to cure incurable diseases, yet his pathetic loserboy ass is too busy being emo to worry about the several gunshot wounds and internal bleeding. god help this man but also don't because honestly it's really fucking funny

Ok, FIRST, when he was a tiny frog-disecting little kid, him and his family and island contacted a disease equivalent to cancer BUT his fam didn't die from that. No, no, his parents got gunned down by the military and his little sis was burned alive with the rest of his house, so, yeah, very traumatic, horrific in a way that makes you very angry at yourself and life and want to oh I don't know, kill everyone and everything possible until the day you die, which won't be long because you have cancer after all. Later, after joining a mafia/cult/gang, Law meets Corazon who after like 2 years kidnaps him to try and get him healed and so they spend the next 6 months bonding, WEEEEEE!! Wait, no, NOT weeee because Cora who is now his father-figure DIES having protected and saved him, and thus bruv becomes orphaned not once, not thrice, but TWO very traumatic times! If this isn't an orphan, idk what is……

Anthony Lockwood (Lockwood and Co)

Lockwood (he's known by his surname mostly) is the mysterious, daredevil and charming founder of Lockwood and Co., a detective agency specialised in protecting people from angry -and sometimes sort of hungry- ghosts in a world where they're rampant. His agency is starting small despite Lockwood bragging it's the best in London but get more and more recognition as the series progress and the agents composing them meet success (when they're not on the verge of dying). Lockwood has open manners but hid his painful past from his coworkers to protect himself. He and George, the first teenager he recruited, are quite stunned by Lucy, a country girl who fled to London after disaster striked in her hometown. Thanks to her talent, she quickly becomes known as one of the best ghost fighter in London and finds her place in the small team despite having the same determination to hide her past than Lockwood, which draws him close to her, making George jealous, but Lockwood's manifest good skills in leadership and the three of them become fast friends while unravelling secret truths and risking their lives repeatedly

He has a lot of trauma and a lot of pain but he always smiles and always has a warm and polite attitude; he’s so protective of the ones he loves that it overrides his suicidal tendencies; at the end of the series he starts to heal from his past; he’s hot but has only two braincells.

#poll #one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood

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calilk · 3 months

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I will admit that the new dark age Is the only song by Coyote kid that I've listened to bc it popped up on some playlist one day qkkdkskfks

BUT the song is good and if the band has your seal of approval could I get some song/album recommendations from them :D?

okay okay first off IM SO SORRY FOR LEABING THIS IN MY INBOX FOR A WEEK. i wrote 90% of it then went to sleep without saving it as draft (silly me) and then didn’t want to look at it for a hot second. and heavily procrastinated doing it. but hey i deep cleaned my house :3

Anyway so FIRST you need BACKGROUND KNOWLEDGE so you know what the hell i’m rambling about. They have 3 albums, each telling a different story, but connected. one is published under Coyote Kid, other two under Marah in the Mainsail. There are also 2 singles, both under Coyote Kid. under the cut because this became an absolute BEHEMOTH (1000+ words). :0

Short Version:

Similar to The New Dark Age: Holy Water

Western: Tough Kids, Prowler, Strange Days, Northern Born, Good Intentions, Trigger Finger

Personal Favourites: Black Mamba, Skeleton Man, Willow Tree, Good Intentions

You’d probably like the album The Skeleton Man most, as it’s set in a dystopian, western dustbowl. The heroes are trying to find a cure for a magical, body changing plague. You can read more here.

Then there’s Bone Crown (my favourite). It’s set before The Skeleton Man and in the same world, but it tells a story of animal civil war!! wowsers. Tyrant fox king, world destroying forest fires, you get the idea!! Read more here

Finally, Thaumatrope. I have the least knowledge about the story of this album (both due to lack of info online and my tendency to get distracted while listening to the album and tuning it out). I believe it’s set in the same world, and follows the story of a couple travelling through the mountains, of loss and conquering death.

Okay SONGS!!!!! first from The Coyote Kid. Tough Kids - Probably the most western of this album, beginning with lovely whistles adding a vEry western twang, and creates imagery of wind whistling in a barren landscape, both setting the scene and highlighting how ALONE these kids are. This in combination with the banjo like strumming of guitars paints the setting of the Dustbowl, desolate and westernnnnn ooo yeah. The layered vocals during the chorus creates the idea of a desperate group of kids with a pack like mentality, desperate to survive in this barren, left for dead world.

Prowler - I lOVe the deep, gritty guitar(? or bass) sections in this one, creates the idea of a growling, distorted and distended beast, no longer human but twisted by the plague into a monster. It both describes the Prowlers, and the fear they cause in others. Then after the chorus, sustained notes sound almost like a howl, showing how the humans in this world can easily be poisoned by the plague and slip into sickness, and even that humans and prowlers are not so different after all.

Strange Days - One of the more westerny ones, with callbacks to the first track in its lyrics. The creeping fear of knowing your friend is changing irreversibly for the worse, and you are incapable of stopping it. The pitch shifting plucking, grainy vocals and chains and scraping of metal as background noises during the bridge (????) makes everything feel wrong.

Other mentions: Destroyer of Worlds- Such a fun funky song: death incarnate going clothes shopping.

Run- Slowly building tension, desperately holding onto life, the carnal fear of being hunted. The vocals stay low and hushed, until the fear catches up and becomes realised in a yelling, almost far off, outpouring.

Skeleton Man- Less westerny but my personal favourite of this album(mostly due to lots of emotions related to it). Letting yourself rest after years of stress, returning home at last, acceptance even though it hurts. Looking back at how far you’ve come, nostalgia.

Bone Crown songs!!!! Black Mamba - I love this song sO MUCH, it’s got some of my favourite lyrics in it (Shape shifting shadow snakes oOOKAYYYYY!!!) and a lovely extended metaphor of the fire being a snake, almost as though it was cunning and intentional: an avatar sent by fate to punish the Bear for his actions. And punish the Bear the fire does!!!! the menacing bass and powerful trombone create the idea of an inescapable wall of fire and pain, eventually slowing down in its rampage, leaving the Bear alone with only the drums and guilt and the knowledge none but him and the owl escaped the fire. This is followed by a raw and desperate vocal performance, as the Bear is overwhelmed by the consequences of his actions, until the Bear falls silent as the drums are cut short. ( can you tell this is my favourite song shhsgsgdhgdgdh)

Fox Hole - full of lively trumpets and drums : a celebration of the Fox King and an embodiment of his subjects unwavering trust in him, until the regal trumpets are slowly replaced by the warning blasts of the trombone toward the end of the song - hinting at the idea that not all is right with the fox king and foreshadowing his descent into madness.

Other mentions : Bone Crown- I have a soft spot for this one as it introduced me to all of this!!! Scornfully looking apon the enemy you are about to cRUSH. Love the brass.

Fisticuffs- The pace of the guitar creates the idea of youthful energy and overconfidence. The Bear is rearing for a fight, full of righteous anger. It’s kinda the training arc of this album.

Everybody Knows - The deep brass in the opening feels like the distain, hatred and fear of others. Being shunned, full of anger and the knowledge of being completely alone.

Thaumatrope time!!!!! Northern Born- The most western in this album!! I love the vocal performance in the chorus: desperation and yearning for everything to be okay again. Very good song but i am slowly losing the ability to make comments. Just trust me with this one. If you want to listen to any out of this album, I think you’d like this one most!

Other mentions : Willow Tree- I have an animatic spinning in my head whenever i listen to this song. I love the build up in this song. Accepting your flaws (maybe a bit to readily (the flaws are mass murder))

Holy Water- I just love all the vibes in this song. The distortion of the vocals. Probably the most similar to The New Dark Age (spoken, slow building of dread and tension).

Ok FINAL ONE SINGLESSSS. In short they’re both fab and I think they’d both be right up your alley, as both very westerny. Neither have attached storylines.

Good Intentions- Verbal Gunfight. Or the taunting before a gunfight. Very westerny and one of the most upbeat sounding and danceable ones. The funky synths makes it feel almost like a futuristic western gunfight with crazy cool futuristic guns. Both are scornful and think of themselves as superior. It’s simultaneously fun and threatening.

Trigger Finger - Feels like a game of poker, with enemies on all sides. Backed into a corner, only able to use your wits to escape. Desperately planning an escape route, alone in a darkened room with your enemies literally betting against you. I could say more but my brain is kind of anlalysised out.

Hope you gained some insight while reading this, or if it was all just letters that’s chill. Sorry it turned out so long, and if you take none of my recommendations that’s chill as freak. thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about something i love!!!!! even if it was a week late. i had fun!!!! idk why i procrastinated this it was chill. yayyy!!!!!

#whew wowsers #that took a hot sec ehheheheheh #done now hope you enjoy the read!!!! or if u just ignore it that’s chill!!!!!!!!!#:Ddd #anyway if you couldn’t tell i’m heavily invested in this #oopsie #cal original #any askers???#coyote kid #marah in the mainsail #mitm #ck rambles

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sassymoon · 3 years

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i won by loving you \ s.r fanfic

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: reader is terminally ill and is saying goodbye to her loved one. genre: angst. all the angst. word count: 1.7k cw: mentions and talk about cancer(melanoma), death of reader, some curse words, nicknames (angel,love). prompt: "for what its worth" a\n: hi loves! this is my entry for @spareau celebration! i know this is a difficult subject and i wrote it from my experience of losing someone to melanoma. please dont read it if it can trigger you. masterlist - -

Spencer should have seen it coming- you told him about your aunt passing from melanoma when you were younger, he knew you went to a dermatologist for a checkup every year. He should have seen the signs, he should have checked your spots himself, he should have known that those back pains were more than just tired muscles. But he missed it all, and now you were on stage 4, the cancer had spread and it was too late. But it can't be it, he can't lose you. You can still fight this, you can find a clinical trial to partake in. you can't just give up!

“No! I won't accept you backing out! I will find a doctor, somewhere in the world there is a person that can cure you, and we will go to him. Please just don't lose hope”

You looked at the love of your life breaking in front of you, and for a moment you thought about indulging him and continuing with the treatment, just for him. But this wasn't right. You couldn't do it. You stepped closer to Spencer, your hands resting on his cheeks that were wet from tears, and kissed his forehead.

“Spencer, my love. We tried everything. Chemo, radiation, Immunotherapy. Nothing works and now it's too late and the cancer spread too far”

You choked a sob and rested your heads together.

“The doctor gave me 3 months”

his head shot up with eyes black from horror, anger, fear. His mouth hung open as he tried to think about something to say, but nothing came up. His head that was usually busy and filled with thoughts, ideas and facts was empty. He could only focus on your words. 3 months. That's all he gets to spend with you.

“I don't want to spend my last time on this earth locked up in a hospital room with a needle up my arm. I want to be at home with you. I want to spend every minute I have left with the person that gives me joy. I hope you can respect my decision.”

Spencer knew in his head that it made sense, You have lost so much in the last 6 months. You had to quit your job at the museum, you stopped getting your period and had a freak out about never being able to get pregnant (oh how silly this seems compared to the current situation), your beautiful hair was shedding in pieces and on one horrible weekend you both got a buzzcut together.

He saw you fighting, but he also saw the light disappear from your eyes after every visit to the hospital. He saw the marking you had on your skin from scratching it too hard. He knew you were suffering, and if it really was the end, then you were right. You should not waste it in a fluorescent lit hospital room, you should spend it doing things that make you happy. He moved his shaking hands to catch yours and pressed it against his lips to kiss them, before staring into your big eyes.

“I understand, and you're right. I'm gonna take 3 months off so we can spend every moment we can together, you'll end up getting sick of me.”

Y\n laughed, one of those big heartwarming laughs that Spencer hasn't heard in awhile. It filled his heart with joy, even if it's just for a second.

“Never going to happen angel!”

Spencer took her little weak body in his arms and spun them around in the kitchen. He's planning on making the best of the time they have left, making every moment count.

“Now I have to tell my mom about this, and she's probably going to take a flight so she can come kill me herself. Wish me luck!” Later that night, as they sat on the sofa watching reruns of some stupid sitcom, eating takeout in their pajamas, spencer knew this was the right moment, and he will never get another one.

“Y\n?”

Her face moved from the tv towards him with a gentle smile.

“Yes love?”

taking both of their plates and putting them on the table, he moved closer to her and intertwined her fingers with his. Their hands always fit perfectly together- like two puzzle pieces looking for each other.

“This isn't how I wanted to do this, and it's far from romantic. But I know I only have 3 months left with you and I don't want to spend it without asking you this, without having the pleasure of calling you my wife. So please, will you marry me?”

As she lunged her body forward to hug him, her mouth said the same word over and over again in different ways.

Yes, absolutely, beyond a doubt, definitely, of course, willingly. All they ever wanted was to share a life together, to be bound to each other for infinity. - 4 months have passed, and y\n died. She went to sleep one cold November night, kissing her husband goodnight, and never got up again. Spencer's head told him that this was the best way she could go, without any pain and without feeling the life drain out of her. But at the same time, he would never be able to forget the feeling of her cold hands in the morning, how he couldn't hear her breath next to him when he woke up, how her eyes never opened despite him crying. As he stood over her headstone, trying to imagine her standing next to him and smiling, a woman carrying a bouquet of daisies came up next to him. He watched her as she laid the flowers down, wondering who she was and how come he never saw her. Will now be the right time to ask her how she knew you? Can he even bring himself to talk? How did she know your favorite flower, she must be close to you.

“Youre dr. Reid, right?”

“I- yes I am. How did you know y\n? I didn't see you at her funeral last week.”

The mystery woman smiled weakly, reaching into her bag and holding an envelope.

“We used to date a long time ago before I moved to Europe, her family hates me so I thought i shouldnt come to the funeral.”

She played a bit with the envelope in her hands, turning it a few times before handing it in to spencer.

“She sent me this 4 months ago, when she knew her time was about to end. It's for you.”

As soon as she finished talking, and Spencer took the letter, she walked away. Leaving an infinity of unanswered questions behind her. But Spencer couldn't focus on that. His hands burn at the touch of the last thing he will ever receive from you, at the last words he will get. he opened the letter slowly, his breath stopping and tears already forming in his eyes.

My dearest spencer. My years with you have been the happiest of my life, I never knew I could feel so good in my own skin before you showed up. You taught me how to love, how to care and how to see beauty in everyday life. I'm writing you this letter the day after our wedding. I can't even begin to explain to you that I am the luckiest woman in the world, and I can't believe I get to call myself mrs. Reid, even if it's for a short while. As I walked down the aisle yesterday with my parents, I couldn't see anything but your bright smile waiting for me. Nothing else mattered, the whole world disappeared and it was just me and you, promising each other forever. I don't know if I believe in the afterlife, or even in reincarnation, but I know that we will meet again some way. Maybe we will both be trees in a forest, swaying together to the wind. Maybe we will be two dolphins swimming in the ocean, or even two pages in the same book bind together while a lucky person gets to read us. It doesn't matter, as long as I can have you by my side again. My darling, it was my pleasure and privilege to love you. I will cherish forever our time together, and all the memories- the good and the bad. I know you don't believe in astrology and the science of the stars, but ever since I was a little girl I had a feeling that I would fall in love with a scorpio. And for what it's worth- you are the best scorpio I could ever wish for. Spence, baby, I am asking you, please don't wallow in pity and never allow yourself to love again. I hope you will find another person that can make you smile, that will hear you spit facts, that will get to enjoy the way your hair is tangled in the mornings. I know you will never forget me, but I want you to move on, I want you to find another chance of happiness. I will love you forever, until the universe turns to dust. I will love you through eternal silence and through the pulling hands of the afterworld. Goodbye my love, I wish you all the good life can bring.

Mrs. reid.

#rose’slibrary #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid self insert

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bemused-writer · 4 years

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VNC Mémoire 50 Analysis

This chapter went down very differently from how I'd envisioned. XD My main error was that I forgot that introducing Vanitas into a situation doesn't necessarily improve it and this chapter really drove that home. I got used to "Gévaudan Vanitas" but what we're dealing with is "Bal Masqué Vanitas," someone who is more unhinged than he wants to let on. I mean, I think it's safe to say Vanitas efficiently steered things into a ditch this chapter. Let's take a look as to a possible why and how.

The first thing I want to address is how the transition from Vanitas's attitude in chapter 46 compared to chapter 50 is pretty severe in terms of how he's acting towards Noé and at first seems, uh, completely insane but it's actually pretty consistent with how Vanitas has been in general.

Vanitas: Noé, stop! Don't go near him. Mikhail is--!

His reaction towards Misha actually is pretty consistent all things considered. The very mention of Misha filled him with fear in the catacombs arc and it does so here as well. We also see Vanitas demonstrate he is afraid of what might happen to Noé should he encounter him. And that thread is continued at the very start of this chapter.

We're absolutely dealing with subtleties here, but there are three things I think we can take from this exchange:

1) Vanitas is worried about Noé, but he doesn't want to be too demonstrative about it

2) He's trying very hard to hide the fact Misha unnerves him

3) Misha can read Vanitas easily

That last bit is important. Misha knew Vanitas for a couple years while they traveled with VotBM, so he knows his ticks. In particular, he knows what Vanitas is worried about. "I only made him drink my blood." The implication is that he could have done something worse and he knows Vanitas was worried about that in particular. I think it's safe to say the worse option was that Misha had corrupted Noé's name. With that concern thwarted, Vanitas's main concern regarding Noé has probably already been alleviated, which may explain why the continuation of the conversation is actually pretty calm for a moment.

In the previous two images, Vanitas is panicked or suspicious bordering on angry. In this one we see something closer to compassion and understanding. I think if the conversation had simply remained on the subject of Misha not remembering what happened to VotBM we would have gotten a very different chapter. At the very least, I think Vanitas would have focused on handling Misha in a calmer manner. I don't know if he would have explained things properly, but I think the overall vibe would be different. I think that a loss of memory is something Vanitas would sympathize with considering how protective he is of his own memories and that's probably why we got this surprisingly quiet scene with the two.

Such a thing could not last, however. Misha shook things up by revealing that yes, he thought he was dead, but he was brought back by a kind individual. Furthermore, this kind individual can bring back VotBM, too! As if that isn't enough, he calls Vanitas's entire goal in life, vengeance, silly. It's basically the perfect recipe to make Vanitas go ballistic and it worked immediately.

Okay, so in my last meta I said it's basically confirmed that Vanitas killed VotBM. I think this absolutely confirms he killed her if there was any remaining doubt. Furthermore, he talks about how he's currently working to erase her existence entirely, which is not a small statement. It could be symbolic as he is curing vampires, something she would have hated and likely going against her philosophy in some way. He is "erasing" her existence by defying her values.

He could also mean it very literally. VotBM is blamed for malnomen after all, which is the very thing Vanitas is trying to cure. If she did create malnomen and if she even had something to do with Charlatan then yes, Vanitas is very actively trying to erase her entire existence from this world.

You know, I'm sure this attempt at erasing her could lend itself well to his own self-hatred. If he wants to erase her (literally or metaphorically) then having her mark on him must be torture.

As a side note, we see Vanitas shooting with a gun in this chapter. He doesn't own a gun (weirdly) and as such I think it's likely Dante's. Dante was pretty drunk at the restaurant they were at, so he was in no position to come along, I guess. XD But Vanitas knew he would need extra protection and borrowed it all the same. Still, even Misha comments it's odd for him to use one, which makes me wonder why. Actually, the more I think about it, the stranger it is for Vanitas to go about without a gun. Sure, he has daggers and other skills, but he's in constant danger and some range probably wouldn't hurt.

Regardless, he brought the gun to fight Misha specifically I expect, which means he doesn't want to get close to him. Questions abound as to why. I do not have an actual theory about this one just yet.

At this point in the chapter, I think Vanitas had completely forgotten about Noé until he reinserted himself into the situation. After all, he needs to rescue Dominique and Vanitas is shooting at the person who has complete control over her right this minute. Definitely a recipe for disaster.

Misha gives Noé 15 minutes to find some way to drink Vanitas's blood and reminds him pulling any tricks won't work.

And this is where our communication disaster begins this chapter. Vanitas wants to handle everything on his own without interference. Noé can't allow that because he needs to protect Dominique and, also, Noé is already involved. He can't not be involved at this point no matter what Vanitas wants.

Rather than attempt any kind of sympathetic response or understanding, Vanitas goes right for the throat.

This is around where I think we need to address the elephant in the room: Vanitas and Dominique's relationship with each other. The second they met one another they couldn't stand each other.

This is the first time they really talk to one another and it's a mess. Dominique is understandably suspicious of this random human using her friend to help him cure curse bearers. She even states later on that she thinks he's using Noé for his abilities. As for Vanitas, he's simply being incredibly petty and arguably possessive to boot. He just doesn't like her getting in the way of him and Noé.

Then there's all this:

So, Vanitas knows these two are very close and overheard them as they shared an intimate moment together and even seems to have some kind of opinion on it, though it's hard to say what it is. He first seems surprised, then his expression becomes the neutral, unreadable one above. I kind of think his ultimate opinion about the whole thing is negative judging by his infamous insult to Dominique later on.

Look, Vanitas is a raging misogynist, but I think he takes special issue with Dominique. We can see with Jeanne that he actually does want to help her and holds some measure of affection for her (and now believes himself to be in love with her). He's been utterly neutral to all the other women in the series as well, such as Amelia. But Dominique? There is absolutely no love lost there and all of the above isn't even getting into one of his primary issues with her: she claimed he might worship VotBM.

Of course, Vanitas seems to get most angry when people approach the truth because there's also this scene:

I will admit that it's a little unclear who Vanitas is saying he never really hated in this scene. The official translation went with "Lou" but it could very well be "Lu" the beginning of "Luna" who was confirmed as VotBM in this very chapter, so... He hates VotBM but also loves her. That would seem about in line with the complete mess that is our current Vanitas.

So how does all this tie in with chapter 50? Well, Vanitas has a lot of issues with women, especially relationships with women and most of those likely stem from VotBM with a side dish of his being the cause of his mother's death while constantly being compared to her visually. Furthermore, he really doesn't like Dominique.

With all this in mind, is it any real surprise he refuses to help her? Because it wouldn't be that hard to. He has The Book of Vanitas and he knows what Misha wants. He could either do something to undo Misha's curse on her or he could tell Misha the information he wants to know. Furthermore, he could just make something up to tell Misha! His memories about that day are practically nonexistent after all!

But he doesn't. Some of that is, I'm sure, because he's not thinking very clearly, but some of it is definitely out of spite. Vanitas doesn't like that Noé has an attachment to Dominique. He believes it makes Noé weak. It's why Vanitas can't stand his own interest in Jeanne or Jeanne's attachment to Luca or any relationship in general. He firmly believes attachments make someone weak and I'm sure he believes his own attachment to Noé makes him weak. It's why he must do his very best to stomp it out this chapter. He must deny his own attachment to Noé, remove Noé's attachment to Dominique, and kill Misha to restore his own warped idea of order.

Vanitas is, needless to say, a human disaster.

Even with all this, there are still little glimmers of Vanitas's better side. He seems genuinely shocked and disturbed when he first hears about what happened to Louis, but then Misha continues with how it affected Dominique and he's right back to refuting the whole thing. We also get this interesting tidbit:

Talk about a loaded statement and some insight into how Vanitas views relationships with women! I have very little doubt he's thinking of VotBM right now. He says that by killing Dominique, Noé will be "free" in the way he is. Vanitas saw his relationship with VotBM (whatever kind it may have been) as a weakness and a curse and he cannot fathom that Noé's relationship with Dominique isn't somehow the same. From his perspective, it's just not possible for them to have a genuinely good thing going. He believes Dominique is too protective of Noé and is holding him back and that, clearly, killing her would be doing Noé a favor.

Vanitas's expression here reminds me of a key moment during the catacombs arc:

Here he was angry at Noé for showing compassion to chasseurs and for "holding himself back." He then tells him to get out of his sight (something he also pulled before) and calls him a slur, finally provoking a reaction.

That's not terribly dissimilar to what's happening now. Vanitas is angry at Noé for showing compassion to someone he coudln't care less about, he's "holding himself back" (as well as Vanitas), and Vanitas says the cruelest thing he can, finally provoking a reaction.

Just like in the catacombs, he got a much stronger reaction than he was betting on. I think it both cases, Vanitas was just saying whatever first came to his mind without thinking about repercussions (just like in the Bal Masqué... there's a theme here) and therein lies the second problem he has: he doesn't believe Noé will ever retaliate against him even though he has no real reason to believe that. He sees Noé as kind and mistakenly assumes this translates to him never reacting to Vanitas's cruelty. Probably because it takes a lot to rouse genuine anger out of Noé, but still. That's a serious oversight and potentially a part of that blind spot he always seems to have when it comes to Noé.

As for Noé, first he's having everything he believed about his relationship with Vanitas cruelly denied by the man himself and then Vanitas trashes on the one relationship he's managed to maintain his whole life with Dominique. It's not like Noé was going to simply drink Vanitas's blood either (that much I was right about). He asks Vanitas for his help, begs him to simply tell Misha about that day, and is denied. He confesses that it's "self-centered" but he doesn't want to do what Misha requested. He doesn't want to drink Vanitas's blood to get this answer.

So, Vanitas actually had a lot of opportunity to turn this situation around or at least delay it, but he opted instead to goad Noé until the worst possibility was realized. When Noé lunges for him, he is terrified and immediately lost in his own past where he is told to never let anyone take his memories. Both Noé and Vanitas are having painful memories awakened during this scene, so neither of them is thinking all that clearly. Vanitas is coping with Misha being right there and memories of VotBM and Noé is dealing with his own memories of Louis's death and Dominique's imminent demise. The ghosts of the dead are haunting them both.

These two pages are the most powerful of the chapter in my opinion and my personal favorites. The angling, the mutual betrayal and devastation is very well portrayed. We can see that Noé is shocked that Vanitas shot him. Not only that, but right in the eye, something a chasseur would do to weaken a vampire. We also see that Vanitas is not unaffected by the whole thing. His arm is shaking after shooting the gun and he's flinching away from Noé.

And speaking of the eye injury, I had a theory awhile back that Noé might be partially blind in his left eye due to the injury he sustained as a child. He tends to guard more with his left side and has been consistently injured on his left side as well, which suggests that's the weaker side for him. Now that his left arm is injured and his right eye is also injured, how well will he fare against Vanitas? Especially now that he has the chasseur drug (gifted to him from Dante, I expect). Normally, I would say that in a straight fight, Noé would win without a doubt, but he's been severely hampered for this arc.

Of course, none of this is taking into account the fact Vanitas has The Book of Vanitas. While shooting Noé is far from a great move, it's significantly less destructive than using the book against him and I have to wonder, why didn't he? He easily immobilized Noé during the Bal Masqué with it and if he did something like that here he wouldn't even have to argue with Noé about what should or shouldn't happen next. Noé wouldn't get a say. It's entirely possible Vanitas has simply forgotten he has it but it's also possible that some small part of him is trying to avoid the ultimate betrayal because, despite everything he said, he does care about Noé.

Meanwhile, Misha is delighting in the whole thing. He's convinced Noé will win after all, and then he'll get his answers. Except, as I've said before, Misha hasn't thought this out all that well and he definitely didn't know Vanitas had the chasseur drug. That changes a lot for this battle. Still, Misha isn't entirely uninvolved in this fight. He unleashed a bomb (I think because they got too close to Dominique? or just for fun?) and he did this:

I'm... honestly kind of confused at what I'm looking at here. Did he just turn on the lights? Or did he transform the area? To me, it's a little reminiscent of Charlatan, but they're definitely not here, so I don't know. Regardless, Misha is the one in charge of the arena and Noé only has 15 minutes to accomplish his goal.

The time limit is going to be the main problem here. I foresee these two fighting to a standstill unless Vanitas brings out the book. Then there's Dominique. She's watching all of this in silent horror. Vanitas and Noé aren't likely to stop without outside intervention. What I'd like to see happen is Dominique reestablishing power over herself and getting them to stop, but I'm worried she'll take the more dramatic route of flinging herself off the building. After all, she's dealing with a serious load of self-loathing herself and she might think she's taking away Noé's friend by being taken. I'm still holding hope for Dominique to come out of this alive, but her fate is the one thing I'm genuinely concerned about in this arc because while things are bad for Vanitas and Noé, narratively they have to eventually come back together. That's the premise of the series. There may be a bucket load of trust issues and all kinds of difficulties--they may avoid each other this whole arc--but they have to eventually work together again.

Dominique does not have that same kind of plot armor. Her fate is tied directly to whatever Mochizuki thinks is most effective for Noé's plot and, well, I guess we'll see what that is.

As for who Misha is working for, there are a couple of possibilities. My first thought was Moreau to be completely honest, but Misha does have memories of him, so it's unlikely he'd ever refer to him as "kind," so I'm going to strike that option off the list. Teacher is a vague possibility, but I also think it unlikely. He wants to observe the events around the book, not create his own. Ruthven was another likely source, but if it is him I think it's indirectly through his connection to Charlatan. He doesn't want Noé to potentially die to Vanitas after all; he has future uses for him. He also doesn't seem to have that much interest in VotBM.

So, after crossing off most of the options, I think we're left with Charlatan (who isn't really a person, so probably a no on that too) and, weirdly, Marquis Machina. Oh, and possibly the de Sades, but while they dislike Dominique, I don't think they'd expend this kind of effort. It would look bad for the family. Now, we know basically nothing about Machina, which makes him a great option because we do know he's a major player somehow but not precisely how. I guess time will tell on that one.

As for other general predictions, I think Noé and Vanitas will fight to a standstill like I said before. Their battle will probably be interrupted by something, whether that's an action taken by Dominique or a third party arriving. Misha will definitely get away regardless of which it is. Whether Noé is willing to work with Vanitas will depend on what happens to Dominique and whether Vanitas will work with Noé depends on how capable he is of just... pretending the whole thing didn't happen and whatever Noé says to him. For the most part, Vanitas has stuck with Noé because of the way Noé has spoken to him, and that's likely to remain the same. Probably. Noé wants to save curse bearers, so as long as Dominique is okay he'll probably also shove the whole thing aside in favor of doing just that. But at some point they will both have to confront that things got ugly very fast and that this is in no small part to the secrets they kept from one another and the biases Vanitas keeps.

Waiting for the next chapter is going to be hard. XD I'm personally very excited about how things are going. They're not what I guessed, but they are super interesting and will really have an impact on the series, so I'm definitely here for it.

#vanitas no carte #vnc #vnc meta #vnc spoilers #Bemused's post #long post

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Set me Free

Summary: Part Two to Let Me In - After a night of being an asshole, getting drunk and then falling asleep when you were just finally getting into the mood. The Captain wakes up finding himself in somewhat of a pickle.

Read Part One

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader (You)

Word count: 4.1K

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Male Sub / FemDom, bondage, sex toys (woman playing with a vibrator), oral preformed on a male and a female (face-sitting), power play, teasing, unprotected sex, bodily fluids. All the good stuff.

A/N: SmuttyWeekend Commences! Guys this is my first MaleSub and I was struggling with it being a FemSub. So please gimmie feedback. 😥😥😥😥 Many thanks to @agniavateira who edits my work.

Title: Set me Free

The big military grunt is lying in the middle of an ocean of navy blue sheets, utterly nude as the sunlight beams through the window and kisses his rigid abs with a warm, golden haze. From all the men who ever fell unconscious in your bed, Syverson has to be the most delicious treat of them all.

Taut muscles stretch across an incredibly large, triangle-shaped upper body and thick, solid thighs. His glowing skin is covered by a dusting of black hairs which flow from his wide chest to his torso, leading to his delightfully enormous cock that nestles between a bundle of dark curls.

He is the epitome of masculinity, especially with that thick beard which he refuses to shave.

You sit on your small IKEA chair, lounging lazily with your ankles crossed together while sipping your latte macchiato and enjoying your new morning view.

The big man usually sleeps around 3 to 4 “generous” hours if he’s lucky to get any proper sleep at all, and not be consumed by night terrors. It’s something you’ve learnt to deal with, at least sort of. But with the amount of alcohol he consumed, he’s been out of it even after you woke up.

You indulge yourself looking at his sleeping form. Watching as his chest gently rises and falls and his cock semi-hardens from the stream of blood that gravitates to his loins.

If only you could wake up to this impressionistic vision of beauty every day for the rest of your life. But no, you had to go and get yourself involved with a military bloke, a captain, nonetheless.

Finally, he begins shifting on the mattress, the muscles of his chest flex inward and his stomach sucks in, followed by a low roar emitted from his defined lips.

There is much of the beast in him, sometimes even more than the man.

You capture your lower lip beneath your teeth, waiting with mirth and anticipation for him to open his beautiful blue eyes.

His face curls with what you assume to be a mild sensation of pain. The strong scent of whiskey wafts from his body as if he bathed in a brewery. You wouldn’t be surprised if the captain is nursing a minor hangover, which you have the perfect cure for.

The metal bars shake and then thud against the wall as he foolishly attempts to move his arms. Sharp, ringing sounds thunder in your ears as the small chain of his cuffs grind against the peg. You smile, placing your empty cup on the study, watching your man as he wakes from his deep slumber to find himself in captivity.

“What in the n…”

His eyes blink open. He observes the leather cuffs around his wrists and begins moving around wildly, attempting to free himself by shaking his hands back and forth with force. The bed creaks and shifts beneath his weight. A slight tension rises in your chest; a man as strong as Syverson might actually break the bars and the bed too, possibly.

You clear your throat to redirect his attention, only to be greeted by a furious glare.

“Morning, Captain.” you hail, your voice smooth and relaxed, contradicting Syverson’s blazing temper. A mixture of daze and anger drapes his face as he focuses on your sight.

You wonder, does he even remember the little performance from last night? Because you sure as hell are going to remember that for the rest of your life.

He angrily narrows his blue eyes, giving you a menacing look. His jaw clenches hard beneath the rough thicket of his beard.

Syverson is a force to be reckoned with; he is not a man who enjoys these types of silly games. Everything about him is hard, down to business, and with him saying the final word in the conversation.

Too bad that right now he is no longer in a position of power.

“What the hell is this?”

His eyes take you in, gliding down the sheer black night robe you’re wearing, intentionally left untied. A hint of the roundness of your breasts winks at him through the open slit and the very outlines of your nipples tease through the translucent fabric. There is a flinch in his cock as more blood stirs down to fill his organ at the sight of your divine body.

You decide to step up your game, placing your legs on the floor and spreading them to allow a glimpse of your ripe little peach. Syverson attempts to lift his head and get a better look while your giggles fill the room.

“This, my darling, is your punishment for one, being a complete asshole and embarrassing me in front of your friends-”

Syverson gives you a slow eye-roll and attempts to fight the cuffs again to no avail. “Je-sus, woman! You’re still at this? Fine. Remove these cuffs and I’ll give you my very ardent apology.”

You chuckle and shake your head, rising from your chair and moving toward the bed. The pink silicone toy Syverson bought for you hangs from between your manicured fingernails as you wave it around casually. Sy follows your movements with the diligence of a trained special forces soldier, learning every possible detail as if you’re the enemy right now.

Might as well be.

“What are you doing, woman?” he speaks slowly, his voice holding a tad of a warning as you climb onto the bed and settle yourself between his feet. You sit straddled, ankles folded beneath your behind, letting your juicy cunt to be openly presented to the helpless man.

You can hear the low pitched growl rumbling in his chest, like an approaching storm. It makes your skin prickle and your lungs squeeze inside your ribs. Even bound to your bed, he effortlessly holds a brooding presence. A huge Texas bear, all muscles and dripping of control. Every time you sleep together, he pins you down and charges your body as if you’re some target that needed conquering.

He never leaves you a fighting chance. Not up til now.

“Two,” you emphasize the word, lazily trailing the tip of the toy against your inner thigh. His eyes follow every movement, his jaw locked tightly. “- you left me wet and waiting last night, after giving me a very nice singing performance.”

The big man scowls as the vague memory of banging at your door starts sinking in. By the look on his face, he hates every single moment of it ever happening.

Probably prefers blaming you rather than taking responsibility.

“Don’t be like that, Texas.” you lick your lips, offering him a cheerful smile. “You have a gorgeous singing voice.”

“Final warnin’, kitten.”

You click your tongue and smile mischievously. Discarding the toy at his foot, you move on your knees, giving him a vixen grin before beginning to crawl forward. The delicate material of your gown caresses his naked skin as you snake your way between his open legs until you are at his pelvis, facing his very solid cock.

Your nimble fingers reach to grasp him, barely managing to circle his generous width. A low groan forms in his throat as you squeeze him roughly and run your hand up and down.

Syverson looks mesmerizing, the temptation to take a polaroid photo and have this moment forever imprinted in chemicals and light tickles your brain. More than anything, you ponder at the war that wages in his mind:the conflict between wanting back his control and enjoying the way your hand kneads him.

“This is an ego thing, isn’t it?” you ask him while licking your lips, inching your head closer and closer to the swollen head.

His chest rises and sinks urgently as his breath becomes heavier. Involuntarily, he bounces his groin, his body begging for your mouth.

You allow the tip to graze you, collecting a few drops of pre-cum on the plush of your lips, letting it spread on the velvet flesh. “I bet they teach you how to withstand torture and questioning in case you’ll fall captive.”

“Not that type of torture,” he replies and then gasps as your tongue dips at the small hole in his cock. You push against it, tasting the salty drops before circling your tongue around the head. His teetering gasps and the way his biceps swell larger when he moves in his cuffs are enough to make you throb with arousal.

No wonder Syverson likes to be the one in control; seeing someone so helpless and bound at your mercy is quite the aphrodisiac. This is especially true when it’s a man like Syverson, a brooding hulk who weighs more than twice your size.

Ironically, Sy doesn’t even need to yell or use his fists to be intimidating. He can talk anyone into submission with his voice. He has this energy about him, a confidence that makes men, even who are just as big, to cower with fear.

Even now, as he lies in captivity, his eyes are shooting daggers at you, sending you a clear message: “You’re goin’ to regret this, darlin’.”The punishment is probably going to involve you being unable to walk for a week, but you’re certain that it’s worth every second of him being subdued to your bed.

Ever so slowly, your tongue glides down his length, tracing the ridges and the thick tendons that throb against your tongue. Motion-synced with the captain’s forced moans, you roll your tongue and slide it all the way back up.

You pause, staring at him as he pants, eyes hazy with lust, his abs sucked in. There’s a strained anticipation on his face, begging for the wet cavern of your mouth, but he never utters a word, only sucking in his lower lip with desperation. Your big army gruff doesn’t beg.

He“ain’t no pooch like them city boys.”

Pumping his cock with one hand, you give him a mischievous grin while pressing your cheek against the muscle of his thigh, feeling it flex beneath your touch. Every sinew of his body is straining, anxious for pleasure and release.

“You want to fuck my mouth, baby?” he releases a low growl, his eyes narrowing at you, his teeth grinding together. “You know I do, so put that damn mouth of yours to good use.”

Your nails trail around his thigh, tickling him feverishly. You watch how he jolts against your touch while one hand still squeezes his cock, making torturous pumps that are too slow and moderated to bring him closer to what he needs.

“Yeah, you want your big fat cock inside my mouth?” you raise your face to his towering erection, your lips part open slowly. You leaned down to lick him up and down before biting onto him, only to watch how he spasms with ache.

“You know I do, kitten.”

To your disappointment, he still remains composed, despite the anger and arousal that spikes his blood. It infuriates you; you want him to beg, to say he is sorry for being such an idiot and for ruining your first night together ever since he returned.

You squeeze him hard enough to make him grunt and descend to devour his cock again. Your lips wrap around him, tasting the bitter salt on the lush of your tongue before sucking him hard, just the way he likes it. Your throat relaxes to take him deeper, deep enough to hear those mellow groans and watch as he throws his head back, blissful at the way your warmth surrounds him.

You suck harder, working up and down his shaft, humming with him inside your mouth while your hand twirls and tugs at the base of his cock. The vibration of your hums makes him grunt, and those grunts and moans are the sweetest melodies to your ears.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the sensation, in these sounds and the way he fills your mouth. You’re in love with him, your heart flutters in the thought of making him feel good, especially since you’re forced to spend so much time apart. It wrecks your heart every time, yet the thought of not having the captain in your life at all is unacceptable.

He longed for you too, you are certain of it. And not just for your mouth and the way his cock reaches the edge of your throat while you pump in and out. He has a shit way of showing that, being such a hardass and saying “I don’t do romance, darlin’” while slapping your ass as if you were some broodmare.

But the raging ocean in his eyes is enough to say all those words he could never utter.

You hear his low voice cracking and sense the swelling of his cock against your tongue. Quickly, you withdraw with a loud wet pop as his cock exits your mouth.

“Fuck!” you hear him utter, the cuffs dangling against the bar while he frowns at you. “Why did ya stop, kitten?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you lift your head, allowing a sneer to linger on your lips like something out of a horror film. You arch your back and crawl on top of his body, your knees bracing themselves at each side of his wide frame, and your nails scratching the slight fur of his skin.

“You’re not coming in my mouth, dear.”

You climb onto the big bear until finally, you are sitting on his chest. You slightly moan at the softness of his hairy chest that tickles the drenched spot between your thighs. Syverson grits his teeth, his jaw pushed forward, eyes red with rage altering between your naked breasts and your dominating glare. The soothing palm you press against his coarse cheek does nothing but humiliate him, which of course, makes you press your lips and coo at him tauntingly.

“Still not going to apologize?”

“Untie me first and I’ll give you the apology you deserve,” he demands, still struggling to remain in control but you can see the fuzzy haze of arousal in his eyes, the way his lips part and his breath becomes rigid. He can smell you, he senses the wetness of your mound as you sit on his chest. It makes the animal in its cage become enraged.

You shake your head, sighing with false disappointment and lift yourself to your knees, carefully targeting yourself above his face with preparation.

“I consider this a prize, Sy,” you murmur, looking down onto the slightly scarred face of your soldier who now returns a fascinated gaze to you. “I know how much you love to eat my pussy.”

He scoffs at you yet still licks his lips with anticipation as you lower yourself onto his inviting mouth. This was always his thing. There was no doubt that Syverson mastered the art of oral sex as another form of domination. Yes, he was an attentive lover. Making his lady squirm with ecstasy brought him joy, yet it was also another way he controlled you.

This is going to be tricky, yet you’re devoted to turning his little game around.

“You better make me come, Sy,” you warn, landing your pelvis onto his lips and releasing a deep moan as you feel the warmth of the captain’s skilful mouth around your mound.

“F-u-c-k!” you utter loudly, placing your hands above the bars for leverage. His velvet tongue meets your cunt, drawing wet circles around the seam and collecting your juices before plunging into you with earnest devotion. You gasp and throw your head back, clenching yourself around him and riding his bearded jaw.

“Like it when I fuck your mouth, Captain?” you call out breathless, trying to mimic the way he speaks to you when he shoves his cock down your throat on the occasion and fucks your mouth.

“Yes, like that, thrust your tongue inside me.”

You gasp the command at him, moving harder, your clit brushing against the moustache of his beard, eliciting a tickling sensation that stimulates you to the point of losing the ability to speak coherent words. Yet, you claw your talons onto control, your knuckles turning white around the edge of the headboard as you fist it in your sweaty palms and buck your hips and ride his face.

“Yes!!! Fuck! Like this! Suck it, harder!”

Even in his subdued position, Sy sustains every inch of mastery, eating you out as if you tasted of heaven. His tongue glides between your slit and your clit, rolling across your delicate nub. The sobs you make only urge him to increase the pressure around your clit and thrust his tongue harder. And just when you think you are close enough, the bastard mumbles something against your lips and the vibration of his bass throws you across the edge.

You come violently, slamming the headboard against the wall and pushing yourself hard onto his face. You can feel yourself soaking his beard yet he continues to lick you dry, sending slight aftershocks through your body.

Breathing heavily, you slowly climb off his face, looking at him as he glares at you darkly. You can see the little cracks appearing behind his eyes, his dominative nature stretching to the point of pain. He wasn’t amused to begin with but now he is close to being berserk.

Still sitting on his chest, you turn your sweaty chin across your shoulder to glimpse at his tortured cock which now looks painfully red and desperate for some attention.

“Are you done playing games?”

There it is, the thing you’ve yearned for. Despair, helplessness. His brow is covered with sweat and his feet kick at the mattress. Oddly enough, you hardly care anymore if he apologizes or not. You know he won’t, it’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s because it’s all part of the battle.

And if anything, Syverson hates losing.

“Not even close,” you answer while you crawl backwards, maintaining fierce eye contact with your enemy. Your glare returns the fight which is now escalated to a whole new level. Like a cougar ready for assault, you snake yourself to the starting point. Your hand meets with the pink toy, which is laid just where you left it.

His eyebrow crooks up, looking at you suspiciously and somewhat concerned. “What are you doing?”

You hold the toy firmly in your hand while spreading your legs across each of his. Your index finger smoothes over the length of the silicone toy, flirting with the on and off button against your tip.

“Remember how you told everyone at the bar that I fuck myself while you watch on Skype?”

“Stop it,” he shoots a warning glare, his neck stretching up with frustration. You tilt your head, puckering your lips sweetly into a pout before flicking the toy on, letting it vibrate in your grasp.

“For fuck’s sake, woman!” he growls and his eyes widen as you position the toy against your clit and instantly begin gasping as it brings you to incredible pleasure in less than a second.

“Oh god, baby!!!!” you gasp, closing your eyes and curling your toes. You massage your clit slowly, letting the vibration coax you just enough before the sensation turns painful. You slip the entire length of the toy inside you while screaming loud enough for your neighbours to hear.

“Sy!!!!” his name is on your lips while you drive the vibrator in and out, angling it at the right spots that make you mewl like a whore. Your eyes flick open to glimpse at the man who stares at you, eyes drenched with hopeless desire, mouth gaping open as his cock flinches with pain and need. The fact that he cannot have you right now is throwing the animal in him to a new length of frustration he never knew before. He squirms on the bed, throwing his head back and then shaking it at you, his lips pressed to a thin line beneath his messy beard.

“Fuck this, I am sorry! Okay?!”

You pump the toy in and out and yip while your finger ticks the button for a higher speed. “Not… good… enough!” you cry out, feeling your walls shuddering. You look at Syverson’s cock, imagining it inside you instead, his wider girth, the warmth of his body.

You need him, not a toy to replace him and still, you come, your body clenching around the soft silicone.

“Will you stop with the games already!? I said I was sorry!” he shouts at you with his face on the verge of panic. His eyes were glossy with anxiety and misery. If you weren’t as desperate to make love to him, if only you didn’t miss to feel him, sunken at your depth, you would have been able to go for hours.

You chuckle viciously, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your forehead while finally shifting yourself to straddle his hips. His chest heaves with eagerness, his breath loud and urgent as your fingers seizes his cock one more time and you lift your hips. He growls once you lubricate his erection against your slit before taking him into your core.

Ever so slowly you let yourself fall on his shaft, taking him inch by inch, enjoying the pure harmony that releases from both of your throats.

“Fuck!!!!” Sy shouts, his frustration finally being answered by the slippery heat of your taut canal. Not stopping, you sink down until the soft edge of your ass rests neatly on his tight balls. Until he is bottomed out inside you, pushed against the rim of your womb.

Painfully engorged your organs throb against one another, blood pumping fast with fury, yet you remain still. You give Syverson one last cruel smirk of triumph.

“Oh come on, woman!!!!” he grunts and bucks his hips, making you rise with him as he lifts you from the bed with ease. “I’m sorry, okay? I love you, I didn’t mean to say that stupid thing. I am just a jarhead, I don’t know how to be different.”

The evil grin quickly fades from your face. For a second, your heart beats abnormally fast while your eyes feel moist. A joyous spasm runs through the knot in your stomach.

“You love me?”

Sy looks at you with a deep frown, the usual fierceness his eyes hold is now replaced by something as fragile as a butterfly wing. You know better than to touch it.

He never said it before, not to you, not to any other woman.

You are flooded by a whirlpool of emotions, hitting you all at once, assaulting your heart and your loins. Your senses are at a complete loss, forgetting all about the stupid battle for control. You want nothing but to have him, to fuck him until you cry out of love. Lifting yourself up, you begin to ride him with incredible force. Hips rising up and down on his girth, nails digging into his torso and sliding up his chest.

“Sy!” You cry out his name, feeling full of him. He groans with amazement, finally praised by the sweetness of your body which he achingly longed for in months.

“Yes, baby,” he calls for you, jerking his hips to meet you as you sink down and throw your head back. “Ride me, fuck me, darlin’.”

You roll your hips and dance on his cock vigorously, your back arching while you sing with ecstasy. His cock is swelling inside you, locked between your closing walls as they attempt to drain him of everything he has. You know it won’t last long yet right now you don’t care, you don’t care if he comes without you.

Because he loves you, the warmth that spreads from your heart onward is just as good.

Yet still, you come, grinding your clit against his pubic bone while tears spring down your cheeks. You hear his voice calling your name in a blur, throwing an onslaught of praises before he lifts you up with his body.

All spent, you collapse flat onto his body, humming to yourself as the hot sprout of his semen fills your womb. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the beating drum within while your fingers draw circles onto his skin.

“I love you,” you say it back, slightly tilting your head to meet his eyes. He smiles at you relaxed, finally released, his breath is still irregular, small gasps of air break between his lips.

“Now uncuff me, kitten, let’s get some breakfast.”

You lift your head and slide further up so your face is levelled with his, your fingers play with his beard while you observe him.

“I am not sure I am done switching just yet.”

_____________________________________________________

disclaimer: I don’t own Sand Castle or Captain Syverson

#Smut: Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson #Henry Cavill #Captain Syverson Fanfiction #Sand Castle #Netflix Sand Castle #Captain Syverson x Reader #Henry Cavill x Reader

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dorki-c · 4 years

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Stolen Cornflakes

Characters: Fem! Reader & Class 1-A

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X reader (but doesn’t have much effect on the story)

Tw: Tad bit of swearing but other than that, its a silly fic <3

A/n: As much as I adore Izubby, I just needed an excuse to write a small fluff bit of him and reader in a crack fic.

The bleary light of a diffused grey and blue sky didn’t dust through the cartoonish styled curtains casting a stale shadow across the rows of squeaky-clean figurines and the snoozing couple underneath the customized hero blanket.

Seconds languidly turned to minutes, before a weird bizzt sound erupted from an unknown source within the room and in result, two (e/c) eyes busted open like a morning flower greeting the world.

(Y/n) knew this alarm far too well.

The soft rumbling somebodies endless void of a stomach, also, knew this alarm far too well.

And to top it off, Izuku hated this alarm.

“Izu…” Arms of the person behind her made their claim when squeezing ever so tightly around the female’s waist. Wiggling against the human cage, low grumbles where a shoved in fluff pile of green strands plopped onto the warm area of a shoulder.

She isn’t letting Izuku hold her back from breakfast.

“Izuku.”

Grabbing the cusp of the cage, nimble fingers attempted to pull apart the scarred digits locked together, however (y/n) underestimated the power behind them.

“No.”

Pulling their bodies even closer, (y/n)’s shoulder blades attempted to push or deter the progress of Izuku winning this morning’s war.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t fair! All you wanted was a nice cup of coffee and your breakfast, but Izuku was making it impossible by being fucking adorable.

“No.”

He knew he weighed heavier than you, so it was realistically unachievable for (y/n) to squirm out of Izuku’s grasp, even if she twisted, pushed, and kicked at her lover’s legs— (y/n) knew she couldn’t win this battle with brute strength alone.

“Lemme—” Izuku knew (y/n) could sense the slow upturn of his lips, “Get—” However, he didn’t sense her arms breaking free of his cage, “My—” and gripping the headboard in such fury, “Food!” that once her head was lifted from the plush pillow, the female twisted her wrists and hips to the left side of the bed that it threw Izuku off guard—causing his makeshift arm prison to be shook off- and allowed (y/n) to sloppily exit the bed.

Nonetheless, when brute strength didn’t win, it was only the matter of making his girlfriend give into the temptation of his puppy dog eyes, pouty lips, and the irresistible whine of her name, that always lured the female back into his arms.

(That has a 95% efficiency of working, and it seems that today would be the remaining 5% of not working.)

“(Y/n), please…” As the male watched the female put on her exercising clothes, he knows its too late to stop her now, so all he’s able to do is groan “It’s like you’re cheating on me with your cornflakes…” where in response; there’s a pause, then an amused snort of “Honey, you cheat on me with the infirmary beds— So, don’t go there.” Before a small smooch of love was placed on his cheek and the only thing that he hears afterwards, is his room’s door shutting on itself.

It takes a few more seconds for him to fully awake to someone’s shout of “WHO THE FUCK ATE THE CORNFLAKE’S!” at the top of their lung’s, in which Izuku assumes that’s your voice, where he hears another feminine voice of “WAIT-- IS OUR CORNFLAKE’S GONE?!” Izuku could only think that could be Uraraka’s voice.

Even though the voices calmed down in volume, thanks to Iida of course, there was a high-pitched scream and another person that said something like…what was it, again?

Something like “they’ve gone feral!” before it went deathly silent.

(Has reality turned into the apocalypse?)

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

For the rest of the day, most people strayed away from (y/n) and Uraraka, mostly out of fear that since their breakfast was stolen from them- right, under their noses-, where there was a short snippet of Tokoyami informing the rest of the class that their ‘spirits’ are emitting a ‘dark aura’ which cannot be ‘tamed’, unless they were ‘cured’ with the ‘blessing’ of Kellogg Cornflakes.

Here’s basic translation of what he meant: (Y/n) and Uraraka are equipped for the hunt.

Whilst some people shrugged it off, the majority of the class see those blood thirsty eyes watching, inspecting, and psychologically analysing each and every one of their movements.

(Ah shit, class 1-A is in rigor mortis at this point.)

To say Izuku and maybe a few other people were scared, that would be an understatement in their enrolment to UA.

Usually (y/n) walks with Izuku down to the cafeteria.

Nope, not today.

Within the peripheral range of class 1-A’s eyes, as soon as the bell rings, the two girls seemed to already reach the door before disappearing into the parade that is a high school’s hallway.

It wasn’t until Iida, Izuku, and Shoto arrived at their usual table where Uraraka, Tsuyu, and (y/n) sat, that they, too, saw what Tokoyami meant by ‘dark aura’- the usually chill, easy-going friend they had was consumed by the pit fires of hell.

(WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HER?!?!)

“We don’t know who it is, but when we find out,” Uraraka started out the conversation with Tsuyu as (Y/n) sat in between them texting- the loud, ear wrenching pressing of multiple places on her phone (using only her nails) was heard from the opposite side of the table.

“Uraraka and Tsu, we got ‘em.”

The smile they displayed was something out of a horror movie.

“Who did you get…?” Iida was the bravest one to ask.

(May God bless him in heaven. Amen.)

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

Misty, suffocating air greeted the majority of Class 1-A where the whole common room was shed in darkest, except the lounge area- but the couches were nowhere to be seen, instead there was a large kiddie sized pool filled with cats meowing alongside Aizawa sleeping in the middle and Shinsou sitting on a chair with Tsuyu, Uraraka, and (y/n), wearing police officer uniforms with pitch black sunglasses and armed with black baton in their hands, backing him up.

(When did they get those uniforms?)

“H-hey Kirishima?”

Izuku was lost, scared, and tired. All he wanted was to cuddle with his girlfriend, but (y/n) looks like she might bury him six feet under if she doesn’t figure who ate her Kellogg Cornflakes.

“Yeah man?”

For some reason Kirishima was wearing similar sunglasses to the makeshift police of 1-A and he was sitting in the kiddie pool with cats laying on top of his thighs where he honoured a pin saying, “the feline species are superior”.

“Umm…D-do you know what’s going on?”

Kirishima paused, then raised his hand to pet a cat.

(He looks oddly at peace…)

“Shinsou is helping the girls interrogate who stole their breakfast this morning, if you answer correctly then you get to sit in this pool!”

And so Izuku did as Kirishima suggested him to do.

“You are going to be put under my quirk in order pass the test.” Said Shinsou.

Okay… that sounds awfully suspicious. But Izuku still nodded and said yes, before feeling the familiar sensation of Shinsou’s quirk wash over him.

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

“Did you eat the Kelloggs Cornflakes?”

(He’s sure he hasn’t.)

“No.” His voice was bland of emotion before breaking out of his temporary brainwash, then given a pair of black sunglasses and the same pin that Kirishima wore.

“You are free to sit in the kiddie pool if you want to. Otherwise, thank you for not being a traitor.” The girls say in unison.

(WHAT FALSE EARTH DOES HE LIVE ON?)

Though once Izuku sat down in the kiddie pool next to Kirishima, all of his fears, worries, and doubts soon vanished under the cover of the feline species (which are superior).

Something along the lines of “BATTER UP BITCHES, WE HAVE A GRAPE TO CATCH” was heard a moment later.

Screams of help? No, we don’t know her.

All we know is that you should never touch somebodies Kellogg Cornflakes.

Amen.

Taglist:

@quietlegends, @izukubabe, @nyanyabisjjj, @glitterfreezed, @sweater-weather-seven

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #166

Bonjour and Bienvenue boys and belles to another bit on the BB Channel! For today we’re building the boisterous baroness of bacchanalia as one bit Berserk Bewitchment Bloodline, one bit Battery Builder, all for badass beatdowns! All this brouhaha is to say we’re building and buffing the beauteous brat known as BB.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet here!

Next up: Hacking the planet? I think you misheard.

Race and Background

The evil AI from the moon BB is about as Custom a Lineage as they come, giving you +1 Dexterity and Intelligence. She also comes packed with Darkvision to dunk on those foolish human eyes and the Lucky feat to tip the scales in your favor by re-rolling attacks, checks, or saves that directly involve you three times per long rest. Games aren’t fun if they’re fair, silly!

Again, Evil AI from The Moon isn’t going to be a background you can find in most games of D&D. That being said, she certainly likes to put on shows of life and death, so once you get past their obsession with fire I’d bet she’d find a lot of common ground with Rakdos Cultists. This gives her proficiency with Acrobatics and Performance so you too can twirl around on stage and put a little flair into your attacks.

This background also gives you an additional bunch of spells to tack onto your spell lists. When you unlock spellcasting in the first place, you get Fire Bolt, Vicious Mockery, Burning Hands, Dissonant Whispers, and Hellish Rebuke. Your free second level spells are Crown of Madness, Enthrall, and Flaming Sphere. Third level is Fear and Haste, fourth is Confusion and Wall of Fire, and your free fifth level spell is Dominate Person. Don’t look at me like that, how else are you going to keep your daughters in line? BB doesn’t rely on fire that much -yet- but the other spells are absolutely in her wheelhouse. And giving a computer virus a fire wall is just plain funny.

Ability Scores

As a hyper-advanced AI from the future, it’d be a little weird if your Intelligence wasn’t your highest ability score. Your smarts are almost as obvious as how great a kouhai you are, so make your Charisma the next highest. Your Dexterity is pretty good too- that outfit probably isn’t armor, at least not in the practical sense. Your Constitution isn’t too bad either. The saying goes, “if it bleeds, you can kill it,” but you’re made out of data so you don’t bleed at all. Your Strength isn’t anything to write home about, but you can warp reality, so why would you need to lift? Dump Wisdom. You’re not exactly the most stable person in Chaldea.

Class Levels

1. Artificer 1: First level artificers get Magical Tinkering, so now you can put minor magical effects into tiny objects. Most of them probably aren’t that practical, but every event shop needs some junk.

You can also cast Spells this level, using your Intelligence to prepare and cast them. On top of your rakdos spells, you can use Lightning Lure and Mage Hand to mess with people. You can also prepare first level spells, like Identify to scan enemies for their status effects, Tasha’s Caustic Brew to re-enact your extra attack card, and Cure Wounds for a bit of maintenance on your spirit origin. It takes work to look this good, y’know!

Finally, you get proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as Arcana and Medicine. You were built to look after humans, and you obviously know a lot about tech.

2. Artificer 2: Second level artificers can Infuse Items to turn dumb ol’ mundane objects into magical objects! You learn four infusions right now, but you can only keep two of them available at a time, and you can swap them out between long rests. Really lean into it, make the rest of the party fight for the affection of their kouhai.

As far as your actual infusions go, Mind Sharpener is a great one for spellcasters, letting them force their concentration to stick even if they fail a save as a reaction. You can also use an Enhanced Arcane Focus to make your spells even stronger. For magic items, the classic Bag of Holding is always in fashion, and Sending Stones will help bring party communication into the 21st century.

3. Sorcerer 1: Being smart is nice, but it’s time to make things a bit more.. interesting. As a sorcerer, you get another Spell list that uses your Charisma to cast. You also get your own home game version of BB slots thanks to your Wild Magic Surge. When you cast a sorcerer spell that uses a spell slot, your DM can make you roll a d20. On a one, you then have to roll on the wild magic surge table.

If that’s not wacky enough for you, the Tides of Chaos can speed things up. Once per long rest, you gain advantage on one attack, check, or save of your choice. Your DM can also force you to roll on the WMS table when you’d normally get a WMS to recharge it.

You get cantrips like Friends, to make friends with Senpai; Message, to send calls to Senpai; Light, to help with Senpai’s dumb human eyes; and Minor Illusion, for some cheap holograms. For first level spells, Mage Armor makes that outfit less of a tactical issue, and Tasha’s Caustic Brew frees up some prep slots for artificer spells.

4. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers are Fonts of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your sorcerer level each long rest. Right now they can be used to refill spell slots, or you can empty spell slots to get more points.

You can also cast Magic Missile for some caster balls. I know you’re not a caster, but you do run around with a magic wand, it’s not that wild a concept.

5. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get second level spells, as well as Metamagic to make them a little bit more you flavored. Distant Spell doubles the range of a spell (or gives it a range of 30′ if it’s touch), while Subtle Spell lets you cast a spell without all that vocal or somatic component nonsense. Why waste time chanting when you could spend it narrating?

You can also cast Enhance Ability to alter your data in favor of one kind of skill checks, gaining advantage on them for the duration. You also double your carrying capacity for strength checks, avoid small falling damage with dexterity checks, or gain temporary HP with constitution checks.

6. Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma to make Senpai notice you. And also to make your sorcerer spells harder to avoid.

You can also cast Prestidigitation to make more small magical effects, or Alter Self to further improve your being. When you cast it, you pick one of three modes. Mode 1 gives you a swimming speed and the ability to breathe underwater. Mode 2 lets you change appearance as an action for the duration, and Mode 3 lets you grow Natural Weapons that are magical against resistances. Honestly Mode 3′s a bad matchup for you, but you’re an independent AI who don’t need no humanity, I’ll let you make your own decisions.

7. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, letting you spend 1 sorcery point to re-roll a failed skill check. You can also cast third level spells like Dispel Magic to bonk Kiara back into horny jail. Probably. We haven’t built her yet, still not entirely sure how that’s going to work.

8. Sorcerer 6: Sixth level wild mages can Bend Luck, using their reaction and 2 sorcery points to add or subtract 1d4 to another creature’s attack, check, or save. You love playing games, but more in the ‘dungeon master’ sense.

You can also cast Clairvoyance to set up your very own BB channel studio wherever you’ve been before.

9. Artificer 3: Third level artificers can always find the Right Tool for the Job, creating whatever tools you might need over the course of a short rest. Thanks to being an Artillerist, you can also bring one of those weird geometric enemies from the CCC event to the battlefield in the form of an Eldritch Cannon, creating a freestanding small cannon or a handheld tiny one. They’re pretty customizable, but they all come in one of three flavors. Flamethrowers deal AoE fire damage, Force Ballistas deal single-target force damage and throw people around, and Protectors give out temporary HP.

You also get the freebie spells Shield and Thunderwave.

10. Artificer 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence for better artificer spells.

11. Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells, like Ego Whip! If your target fails an intelligence save, they get disadvantage on all attacks, checks, and saves, and it can’t cast spells. At the end of each turn it can try to make another intelligence save (still at disadvantage), but tbh most creatures aren’t that bright compared to you.

12. Sorcerer 8: Another ASI already? Bump up your Charisma to make it even harder to break out of your ego whip, and also grab Banishment so you can deal with that giant pain in your behind, Kingprotea (note: this level description does not contain the opinions of fateandphantasms. fateandphantasms does not condone any kind of Kingprotea hating.)

13. Sorcerer 9: Fifth level spell time! Grab Creation so you can warp reality and make pretty much whatever you might need out of thin air!

14. Artificer 5: Fifth level artillerists can make Arcane Firearms this level, adding 1d8 to artificer spell damage cast from a specific focus. This also means that your artificer spells and sorcerer spells can finally come out of the same wand, though I doubt most DMs would care to correct you before now.

You can also cast the freebie spells Scorching Ray and Shatter now, since you can learn 2nd level artificer spells. Use Heat Metal if you’re feeling sadistic, Invisibility or Spider Climb for some hacks, or grab Lesser Restoration for some cursed cupid cleansing.

15. Artificer 6: Your Tool Expertise doubles the proficiency of all tool-based checks, but you also get two more infusions, and one more concurrent infusion to boot! A Spell-Refueling Ring will give you more energy to deal with your many, many, problem children, while a Radiant Weapon will just make your wand shinier. Not that it’s a bad reason to grab it.

16. Artificer 7: At seventh level, you can speed up your processors to have Flashes of Genius, using your reaction to add your intelligence modifier to an ability check or saving throw nearby. You can use this Intelligence Modifier times per long rest.

17. Sorcerer 10: Your newest metamagic option lets you twin spells, turning a one-target spell into a two target spell. Now you can keep both your daughters under control at once with one casting of Dominate Person!

You also get the Mending cantrip, because let’s be real your outfit probably doesn’t look as good as it did 17 levels ago. Finally, you get the spell Far Step to bip and bop all over the place as you see fit. Remember, if you teleport off camera it’s not cheating!

18. Sorcerer 11: Eleventh level sorcerers get sixth level spells, like Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise! If you’re going to wear a nurse outfit, it might as well come with superpowers. You get immunities to certain damages and conditions, you can fly, your AC goes up, and your weapon attacks use your spellcasting modifier, are magical, and you can attack twice per action. Ramming a giant needle into somebody never felt so right!

19. Sorcerer 12: For your last ASI, grab the Tough feat. All these sorcerer levels have not done your HP total any favors.

20. Sorcerer 13: Your capstone level nets you a seventh level spell, so grab Plane Shift so you can finally escape the Mooncell and show Senpai all the hard work you’ve done!

Pros:

You have a ton of ways to cheat at dice, manipulating the world to always work in your favor. Re-roll dice with magical guidance and lucky, or just stick a finger on the scale with bend luck and flash of genius. Either way, your party will be thankful to have you.

You also make a decent variety caster thanks to the variety of technological goodies at your disposal. Support team communication with sending stones, spy on people with clairvoyance, create whatever the party might need with creation, or just blow people up with thunderwave and your eldritch cannon. You come packing a little bit of everything.

You’re particularly good at shutting down one or two opponents, with Ego Whip destroying their ability to do much of anything, Enthrall and Fear keeping you their main focus, or Banishment shoving them out of existence entirely.

Cons:

Those wild magic surges can bite you in the ass just as much as they help you, so try to make sure you don’t spin a bankrupt on the BB slots. Seriously though they can straight up kill your entire party at level 1. Don’t be unlucky.

Having a bit of everything means you aren’t focused on any one thing. Builds like Ishtar and -god help me- Mephistopheles?? beat you in magic damage, Scheherazade and Kogil beat you for utility, and Medea Lily and Irisviel beat you for healing. It must be nice to have so many senpais though!

Trying to keep on top of all those checks and saves means you’ll burn through your sorcery points really fast, so just... don’t push yourself too hard, you might not like what happens when you run out of power.

#fate grand order #fgo #D&D 5e #DND #BB #Sorcerer #Artificer

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reversemoon255 · 3 years

Photo

(This is the final of a three-part series chronicling the development and ideas behind “Dungeons ‘n’ Dragonites,” a Pokémon DnD campaign. This last entry will be about the final string of encounters, some of the later ideas for story elements, and a deep dive into the overarching themes of the campaign’s Starters. Speaking of, the fantastic art of them, along with many of the other original Pokémon seen here, was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter, and I highly suggest you check them out.)

Dungeons ‘n’ Dragonites - Phase 3: Fauxchemine

Like the Queen Durant, the Steelix/Glacix fight would have been a transitory battle between phases of the campaign, taking place right before the Starters were about to evolve for the final time. Glacix was an idea I came up with early in development. As Rock, Steel, and Ice have a relationship throughout Pokémon, having Onix evolve into a specially tanky Ice-Type rather than the physically tanky Steelix made sense. This was also a design I put a lot of work into the actual proportions, like stretching its face vertically as Onix is circular, and Steelix is horizontally stretched. Also, as Steelix has two long spikes on every other segment, Glacix has four smaller spikes in the same pattern.

Glacix was also the first of the four penultimate boss encounters before the close of the campaign, each representing one of the four sacred beasts of Chinese mythology. I thought it would be a pattern that players could recognize and possibly plan ahead for. Glacix was always planned as the Phase 2-to-3 transitory boss, but I actually had roughly prototyped the other three before I realized Glacix fit into role of the Azure Dragon (which I was missing).

The second of the bosses, representing both the Black Tortoise and Rare Variants, was a Dire Torterra. The idea was this Torterra was symbiotic, housing a Sudowoodo instead of a tree, and hiding its identity was a shiny Altaria capable of Mega Evolving thanks to the Key Stone that had replaced one of Torterra’s stone spikes. This was a rough concept, and I’m sure it would have changed drastically by the time the players would actually encounter it.

Third, representing both the White Tiger and Ultra Beasts, was Shora (from Shodo and Tora, the Japanese words for calligraphy and tiger). A pure white tiger that paints floating, metal stripes above its body with its brush-like tail. This was an idea I was very happy with, though I lacked the artistic abilities to render it effectively. If I remember correctly, the markings above its shoulder were based on the Kanji for Tiger. I also hadn’t settled on an ability for it, which was key for depicting Ultra Beasts in this campaign.

And the last of the penultimate bosses was Phanic, being a second Ultra Beast and representing the Vermilion Phoenix. Sadly, I had little planned for this guy apart from some concept designs, like the rest of them. I was working on these as the campaign was starting, and didn’t pursue finishing them after its premature conclusion.

Phanic (from Phoenix and Panic) is actually an Ostrich. If you picture a phoenix, you typically imagine great plumes of feathers around the head, wings, and tail, which are all things Ostriches specifically lack, and I wanted to subvert that typical depiction. I liked the idea that when it was startled, it would scatter its feathers resulting in an exclamation point forming using the spot on its face. It was supposed to seem unassuming compared to the many larger and more imposing bosses, though just as dangerous. Also, it was Electric-Type because it is frequently “shocked” *Ba-dum-tish.*

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Let’s talk about our players. One of the backstory elements our Grass Trainer, Ethan, had was that his parents’ restaurant was struck by lightning and destroyed some time before he went to school, and saw a Pokémon at that time. This left him with a fear of lightning (ironically picking an Electric-Type Starter). With this knowledge, and as I was using Ultra Beasts, I altered his backstory slightly so that it was caused by a Xurkitree, and would eventually encounter one during the campaign with his victory over it (probably with a lot of Wisdom Saves) curing his phobia.

Johnny, our Fire Trainer, had a goal of becoming an entertainer, but was vague about what kind. I had an idea for a “Streamer” Trainer Class he could run into. Someone who uses their Rotom Phone to live stream battles and get reactions and advice from their chat. (Let’s face it, if Pokémon were real, this would totally be a thing.) There was also DJ Tomomitsu, who runs Stelopy City’s Trainer Radio, and was a Gym Leader. The idea was to present a bunch of different Pokémon-based entertainment ideas and professions and have him decide which ideas he liked and wanted to pursue.

While our other players were aiming for careers, Orion, our Water Trainer, was more interested in exploring his relationship with his family. His father in particular; both he and his wife being high-ranking executives for Silph Co., and raising their children to also be successful. However, Orion had always wanted to be a Trainer, and it was his parents that prevented him from adventuring. I had it that his father was so against the idea was because he, too, was a Trainer in his youth. But not a successful one, failing many more times than he succeeded, and didn’t want his son to suffer the same disappointments as he did. His partner was Rhyperior, btw.

Lastly was our Fairy Trainer, Arthur. He wanted to be a Gym Leader, and cited specific interest in the Galar League. He also mentioned in his back story that his father was belligerent and against the idea. While the Leaders of the Galar League are entertainers by profession, if you look at the list of Gym Leaders and Kahunas in US equivalent regions, almost all of them have a profession and run Gyms on the side:

(Restaurant Owner, Museum Curator, Artist, Model, Business Tycoon, Pilot, Actor, Teacher, Rock Star, Mayor, Shop Owner, Police Officer; 12/15)

It felt like a hobby, rather than a career, and I ran with this idea as it seemed like Arthur and his obsession with the Galar League hadn’t noticed this fact (nor had his player), but his father had and was pushing him into a sports-based career (one that is usually lucrative and has off-seasons) so he could have a well-paying job and time on the side for his interests, similar to Orion’s father.

Though, no DM can control their players, and even by the end of our fist session I could tell I would have to change some things. It’s just good to have some idea of where to lead everyone, and adjust as you go.

=====

There’s one more Pokémon I want to talk about before we get to the Starters.

This is Necrotiti (Combining Necro with the Egyptian God Nefertiti), an evolution of Cofagrigus, evolving if it’s holding an item called the “Ceremonial Jar” (literally a jar filled with Yamask’s human intestines). It was meant to evolve from the Yamask they could catch during their museum field trip. The reason it exists is... silly. It’s another instances where I wanted to surprise my players, and giving the “Gardevoir Treatment” to what I consider the creepiest Pokémon was funny (which I feel is a reason I cite a lot). And I was really happy with this design, which is why it got commissioned.

A lot of the original ideas I had for this campaign were meant to either surprise or creep out my players. Everyone I was playing with knew Pokémon very well, so I had this fear that if I presented them with a standard adventure they would either become bored or be able to easily predict where things were going. Having a Pokémon adventure within a single city, having it be more a mystery than a collect-a-thon, and using new Pokémon were all ways I came up with to keep interest high and have them guessing as to what would happen next.

Back to Necrotiti, despite having a sarcophagus Pokémon, we didn’t get a mummy. I wanted to make the body effeminate without being overly so, which is why her body is very geometrical in specific areas. For the mask, I went with a typical Egyptian Nubian motif mixed with some of the overall design elements and basic lines from Yamask, and the colors and patterns from Cofagrigus. But despite how much I like it, I don’t know if I would have used it. It didn’t match the Mutant Evolution concept, with its only similarity being that it’s a rare occurrence.

Onto the Starters: Epipesis has evolved into Drachenura (from Dragon, Lichen, and Meganeura). Grass Starters are typically based on extinct animals, and Flymph’s line is based on a Meganeura (an ancient species of giant dragonfly). Apart from some bulking out and additional colors, the lichen sacks in its tail are now yellow, as the plant matter has evolved with it. It supplies it with so much energy that it has to constantly move while the sun’s up to burn it off. Its tail tip is also based on the X-15, the fastest aircraft to date, as it was designed to be the fastest Grass-Type.

Steared has evolved into Auradiat (from Aura, Auroch, and Radiate). Now a Fire/Ice-Type, it’s based on an extinct species of cattle found around the time of the Ice Age. Its ability to absorb energy with its horns has become so powerful that they have frozen over. When I was originally designing it, I was actually trying to base it on the phrase “Irish Bull” (meaning a paradoxical statement), but as I kept working on it, it became more and more Minotaur-like, so I kept the Fire/Ice-Typing and dropped the more abstract elements. As I did, I actually made it more bull and less Minotaur since all Fire Starters are bipedal, and I wanted to try and avoid that.

Knaval has evolved into Chivalazuli (from Chivalier, the French word for knight, and Lapis Lazuli). This was probably my favorite example of features naturally changing as it evolves, with the antenna growing longer and the shield and lance growing harder (going from carapace, to stone, to crystal). Some of the things you might not have noticed at first glace were his forelegs becoming sub-arms on his chest, him gaining the lobster nose and it becoming a face guard, and how his eyes recess into his head. Also, almost every Starter is symmetrical (apart from patterns), with the only exception being Torterra, so I designed it to be asymmetrical throughout.

And Uteteo has evolved into Makutah (from the Aztec naming scheme used for their Gods of wealth and abundance and Utahraptor). He’s Fairy/Flying, with the gold adornments that first appeared on Uteteo now on his head and arms, giving him a more bird-like appearance. The idea was to have him naturally evolve from a Dinosaur into a bird, with the leg bands making them look more like talons, and the face mask giving him a beak. Also, he starts out with the singular sickle toe raptors are known for, and gets a new one every evolution, ending with a full set.

The thing that sets these Starters apart from ones you’d find in the games is that these are designed to be a team. As such, there are a few themes they all share to help reinforce that. (This ignores Utaw, but) All the Starters, throughout their evolutions, have a distinct yellow detail on their heads (eyes, nose ring, and antenna). Furthermore, once they reach their final stages, they share colors between them, with Drachenura having red on its extremities, Auradiat having blue neck fur, and Chivalazuli having flecks of green in its gemstone. And on top of that, they also all have two overarching themes. First is they all represent different time periods, with Drachenura being pre-humans (Precambrian), Auradiat being prehistoric humans (Ice Age), and Chivalazuli being more modern (Medieval Period). Secondly they all represent DnD, with a Dragon(fly), Auradiat filling the role of a minotaur and its connection to a labyrinth/dungeon, and the adventurous knight who traverses them.

There’s also reasoning behind their types, as all three’s secondary Types are also strong against their usual counterpart (Grass and Electric are both strong against Water, Fire and Ice against Grass, and Water and Rock against Fire). Furthermore, Electric, Ice, and Rock are all strong against Flying, which is the reason behind Makutah’s Type (a joke against the player who joined late).

Makutah does fit into these themes, but more loosely as it was created later. Utaw and Uteteo lack the yellow facial details (though they do have yellow eyes), only really achieving this during their final evolution. He also doesn’t share any colors, as Fairy is outside the usual threesome. It does somewhat fit into the themes of the others, but not as cleanly. Utaw, being a Dinosaur, is still pre-humans, but closer to them than Flymph is, and having Aztec themes puts him past Medieval and closer to the Renaissance in terms of human history, but is very close compared to the other time gaps. Also, the gold was partly to fit him into the DnD theme, representing treasure.

=====

One of the first things the players were told at the beginning of the campaign, and was reinforced throughout, was that Pokémon from outside the Wellou Region were mysteriously popping up all over the place, with the Ultra Beasts being the most extreme example. As to the cause, there were a number of red herrings. Silph Co. employees could occasionally be seen in areas where UBs were with strange equipment, Tomomitsu could occasionally be found before something would show up, and there were a few other strange characters like the Regional Champion or Silph Co.’s president. The only definite thing they would know was that there was a strange, creepy, grey Charizard that would occasionally appear when they took something down.

However, it would eventually be revealed that the above were only trying to understand what was going on, and prevent the appearances of such dangerous Pokémon, like our heroes. And as a massive Ultra Wormhole appears above the city, they come face-to-face with the true mastermind. Not an evil team, or a lone conqueror. Merely a single, twisted Pokémon. And our heroes have interfered with its fun long enough.

“You stare up at the now familiar form of the grey Charizard, which stares back with unblinking, dead eyes... Its mouth stretches wide, wide enough to swallow you whole, and a hand appears. And another. And another. Four skeletal hands pry its maw open from the inside, stretching it until its skin falls down to settle on its hips. What looks down on you now, with a single, glowing eye, is a monstrous form made of bone and rotting flesh. And witnessing the four of you before it, it lets out a high-pitched, chilling laugh...

“‘Fofofofofo...’“

Fauxchemine. A sadistic Ultra Beast capable of warping time and space to its will. All the disturbances throughout the town, all the strange creatures that have appeared, all the monsters sent to terrorize our heroes; all the result of its twisted sense of fun, and the consequences of getting in the way of it.

So there’s a running joke among my friends that we all “hate” Charizard. Not actually, but it’s always pushed in marketing with new forms and such, even though its popularity has been dropping steadily over the years. As such, I thought it would be somewhat cathartic to have the big bad they have to beat up at the end be related to Charizard. ‘Chemine’s skeletal nature comes from trying to cinematicly picture the encounter in my mind, with the eerie image of the mouth stretching open from the dialogue earlier. With bone white and rotten greens, the skin wasn’t meant to reflect Charizard as a shiny, but rather with all its color drained from it, as it’s more a puppeted skin than an actual part of the Pokémon. And as many Pokémon draw inspiration from Kaiju, ‘Chemine does, too, specifically calling back to an Ultra-Kaiju named Greeza with space warping abilities.

It’s Steel/Dragon with Thick Fat. When planning encounters, especially this late into the game, Auradiat made things tough since its offensive Typing is insane, and that combination made it resistant to all of the Starter Types except Fairy. This was supposed to be the toughest fight in the campaign, so I wanted to build a Pokémon that would be difficult to deal damage to. A swift Pokémon able to warp around the field, summoning Ultra Beasts or other versions of Charizard as adds or for specific attacks, I wanted this to be memorably difficult.

Oh, and the name? It’s meant to rhythmically sound like “Pokémon,” with the ‘faux’ symbolizing its disguise, and the ‘mine’ representing its personality. Everything in this world is its to play with.

But that giant Ultra Wormhole wasn’t just for show. Part-way through Phase 2 our players were sucked through a Wormhole themselves, both they and Fauxchemine bearing witness to a titanic creature as they did, and upon its defeat, it is let loose upon the city:

Standing over 100ft tall is Wreknarogg (from wreck, to destroy, Níðhöggr, a massive world-ending creature from Norse mythology, and Ragnarok, the end of the world). A massive symbiotic group of four Pokémon from a dead world, the whale-squid Bayleige, the parasitic Serrasite, and the barnacle Rhizocano. This was actually the first symbiotic Pokémon I designed, and its creation sparked the others like Shiinotic and Torterra so this wouldn’t be the first time our players encountered one.

Whales are the largest creatures on Earth, so using one as the base for a kaiju-sized Pokémon fit. It also helped that the prototype designs for the Cloverfield monster were based on a whale, so I had something to go on. Secondly, I really like a lot of the eldritch design philosophy, and a lot of those are based on sea creatures, which is where the combined squid elements came from. Also, when I was prototyping the design and trying to make it creepier, a friend suggested having a parasite coming out of its blowhole, which is what sparked the creation of Serrasite and Rhizocano (as whale’s are known to have such parasites in real life).

This was a design very inspired by the world it was supposed to inhabit. Coming from a desert world where they are the only living things remaining, they symbiotically support each other to stave off their own inevitable death, with Bayleige able to create rain with its ability and Rhizocano able to make artificial sunlight to feed Serrasite. Serrasite then gives energy to Bayleige to allow it to keep moving, and Rhizocano takes energy from Bayleige. It’s an incomplete system where energy is slowly lost over time.

Stage 2 of the final boss wasn’t supposed to be as intense as the last one. A gimmick for this fight was, at the start of every round, I was going to roll a D100, and an event would happen. They would be things like their friends showing up with healing items, trainers they knew joining the battle, wild Pokémon they’d befriended getting in pot shots, etc. It was meant to be a fun, celebratory, “you’re at the end of the campaign” fight rather than an intense one off the back of another. I was even considering having everyone use their full parties.

But after it’s defeated, a thick, dark haze enshrouds everyone. With their allies gone, and left with just their Starters, our players are alone in a dark void. I did say there were four Pokémon earlier...

And the final encounter is Wreknarogg (Core). The Pokémon who brought the three titans together, and controls them while siphoning off some of their energy to survive. Similar to Phanic, this was another unassuming Pokémon. Designed to resemble a virus while calling back to aspects from mythical Pokémon like Jirachi or Manaphy. I understand it might not feel as climactic as there wasn’t any set-up compared to ‘Chemine, who was shown throughout, or the previous Wreknarogg, who was foreshadowed, but I wanted a 3-stage boss fight, and this felt like a good way of concluding it.

While stage 1 was supposed to be difficult, and stage 2 was meant to be fun and call back to the long journey, stage 3 was an un-losable, cinematic fight with a somewhat somber tone to it. It was the final fight, the end of it all, and there’s a certain level of sadness that comes with that in accordance with the jubilation of completion. It was also meant to see how much everyone had grown; how would they handle this encounter? Fight it? Catch it? Persuade it? Maybe I haven’t listened to enough DnD finalés, but in how many can you beat the final boss by being nice to it and calming it down?

=====

And that’s the end. There would be some sort of epilogue, picking up with our characters some months or years later, but that’s not something I could write without witnessing the actions of the players. I was debating having everything that came from an Ultra Wormhole be sucked back in after Fauxchemine’s defeat, including the Starters (pull a Digimon Tamers), but as Wreknarogg came from a dead world I thought that a little cruel.

And to end things how I usually do; Overall, despite not getting off the ground, I was very happy with this project. I’m the type to pick up and drop projects frequently, and the fact that I stuck with and continued to work on it for months was something I was really proud of. It was also a great learning experience on many levels. And who knows; maybe I might do something like this again in the future...?

#Pokemon #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD #dnd homebrew #Onix #Steelix #Torterra #Sudowoodo #Altaria #Yamask #Cofagrigus #Charizard #Whale #Ultra Beast

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ethereousdelirious · 3 years

Text

The bitch is back!!!! Finally!!!!

Fandom: C.ritical R.ole: E.xandria Unlimited

Characters: All except [spoiler for most recent episode]

Pairing: N/A

Tropes: College AU except with D&D races still

Summary: D.orian insists he's too sick to perform in the university's battle of the bands, then changes his mind and goes anyway. He was right the first time.

Notes: I was gonna take this in a different direction and make it longer, but I ran out of time and I really wanted to have it out today, so. Ta-da.

"I told you," Dorian rasped, pulling the covers over his head as if to shield himself from his friends' expectations, "I can't."

Dariax and Opal whined in tandem, nearly harmonizing through sheer, random chance. "C'mon, bud," Dariax pushed, "you're not that sick."

"Are you serious?" Dorian threw the covers off, the better to glare at his friend. "I have a 102-degree fever. I'm not doing it."

"A fever is good!" Opal said brightly, though her voice was a little muffled, as she was hiding the lower half of her face in her shirt to fend off Dorian's germs. "It means your body is healing."

"No, it means I feel like shit and I'm not going anywhere." Dorian huffed out a sigh that left his chapped lips stinging and scooted down the bed so he could lie down properly. His stuffed-up sinuses protested at the change, but he stubbornly ignored the throbbing and the post-nasal drip.

"Ohhh, I get it," said Dariax in a tone that suggested he very much did not get it. "So you'll come if you feel better?"

"Sure, Dariax." Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, wishing that his friends would take the hint and go away. Exhaustion made all his limbs feel heavy, made the idea of keeping his eyes open for even another second feel like the keenest of agonies. He shivered beneath his blankets despite the fever painting his cheeks an angry purple.

"You heard the man," Dariax said, turning to Opal. "Time to nurse Dorian back to health."

"You can't cure the flu in a day," Dorian said. The cough finally caught up with him and he rolled over, shaking with the force of it, covering his mouth with his hands. "Oh, god." He really felt awful and still, Dariax and Opal just weren't getting the message. Dorian flopped back over, gesturing weakly for one of them to hand him the glass of water on his nightstand.

"Sure, we can buddy!" Dariax, seeing Dorian reaching out, took his hand in both of his own. "Let's see, how about I go make you some awesome healing tea, and Opal can…"

"I'll get all that hair out of your face," Opal said. Dorian's gradient locks were stuck all over his face, black and white strands plastered to his cheeks and stuck to his lips.

"Great," said Dariax, making for the door. "Dorian, you're in good hands."

Dorian had never been more sure in his life that he was going to die. Leaving Opal to poke around his room for hair ties and a comb, he forced himself to roll over and grab the water glass. He was shaking so badly he could barely hold himself up to drink and even that slight movement took enormous amounts of effort. "Opal," he said, letting the glass fall as he flopped back onto his pillows. "If you're gonna stay, can you please--" He muffled a few explosive coughs behind his lips, sniffled. "Can you please get me some more water?"

"Sure!" said Opal, letting her shirt fall away from her face. "Maybe I should get you a plastic cup, though. 'Cause you don't wanna be cleaning up broken glass later if you drop this one. Do you have any plastic cups?"

"I dunno." Dorian hid his face in his hands, trying to rub away his headache. He had never considered Opal's voice annoying before, but now her words rattled in his head, drawing throbbing pain in their wake. "Orym might." That gave him an idea, albeit one he was almost too tired to pursue.

"I'll go look," Opal said. "Sit tight."

Dorian waited until he could hear the quiet sound of Dariax and Opal talking in the kitchen before forcing himself to sit up to search for his phone. He found it down by knees, thanking all the gods in the pantheon it wasn't dead, and sent a text to his roommate.

Dorian: IK you're at work but dear God pls come save me

Dorian: Dariax and Opal are here to "nurse me back to health."

Dorian: I May Die

Then Opal came back with a plastic cup of water and Dorian shoved his phone back under the covers like a guilty teenager. The subsequent adrenaline rush robbed him of his breath until he felt faint.

"Oh, good," said Opal, setting the cup down on the crowded nightstand. "You're already sitting up."

Dorian's head swam. He opened his mouth to tell Opal that he'd prefer to not be sitting up any longer, but the words came out as hissing rasp. He cleared his throat. "Oh, fuck."

"Don't worry, Dariax's tea will help your throat," Opal said. She knelt by Dorian's bedside and started combing his hair out of his face. Dorian relaxed despite himself, happy to be rid of the unpleasant sensation. Opal noticed and smiled. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Dorian said begrudgingly.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone if you moan."

"Jeeze, Opal." Dorian went to bury his face in his hands, but Opal stopped him with a quick tap to the chin. "Head up. How about a nice braid?"

"Whatever."

Opal was gentle with her touches, working out knots with a practiced hand instead of yanking through them like Dorian had feared she might. If it wasn't for the uncomfortable position and the chill in his limbs, he might have even fallen asleep. "This is nice," Opal said, stroking the nape of Dorian's neck. "I never get to play with other people's hair."

"Mm," said Dorian, his head cloudy.

That was when Dariax burst in cradling a mug of tea in his hands like it was something precious, and not over-steeped Throat Coat. "I made tea!" he announced redundantly.

"Can I drink it later?" Dorian mumbled, blinking slowly. Despite having been asleep for most of the morning, he still felt exhausted and sore. "Wanna sleep." He coughed a few times, too tired to even turn his head, let alone cover his mouth.

"But then it'll be cold," Dariax said. "And I saw you shivering, so I know you don't wanna drink cold tea."

Dorian thought he might have a rebuttal to that, hidden deep beneath the layers of fever-fog. Whatever it wasn't he couldn't reach it now. "Good point." He held out his hands for the mug, dimly annoyed that they were both still shaking. "I really don't feel good," he announced in case it might help.

It didn't.

"We know, silly," Opal said. "Drink your tea."

"Meds?" Dorian asked hopefully, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his nightstand.

"Gotcha." Dariax shuffled past Opal and dropped two pills into Dorian's open mouth.

Dorian nodded his thanks and washed them down with a mouthful of tea. "What time is it?" he asked, grabbing a tissue from the box tucked into the corner where his mattress met the wall.

"11:30," said Opal, who always had her phone within arm's reach.

Dorian blew his nose and dropped the tissue over the side of the bed. He had no idea where his trash can had ended up and wasn't about to lean over and look for it with his head spinning the way it was. "Ugh. Fuck."

"Orym's not off until 3:00, right?" Opal asked, cottoning on.

Dorian nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Don't worry, buddy." Dariax reached out to ruffle Dorian's hair, but stopped after a nudge from Opal, who glared pointedly at Dorian's braid. "You'll be aaaall better by then."

Dorian was most assuredly not "all better" by 3:00. After finally getting Opal and Dariax out of his room, he had slept fitfully until they had gotten bored and come to wake him to see if he was feeling better. Around that time, his fever had gone up and he had clawed his way out of his hoodie and tossed it aside, a move he would come to regret when he woke up to the sound of his friends joyfully greeting Orym at the door and found himself shivering again.

Unwilling to speak, he let out a long groan, hoping that the sound of his misery would draw Orym to his room. But this only made him cough, aggravating his stinging throat and sore chest.

"Jeeze," said Orym from the door. Dorian looked terrible and sounded worse, and there was nothing anyone could do about it but wait.

"Oh, good," said Dariax, "You're awake!"

"Are you all better?" Opal asked.

Dorian ignored their questioning and looked Orym dead in the eye. "Please explain to them that I'm too sick to go to the stupid battle of the bands tonight."

"But we need you, Dorian!" Opal exclaimed. "No other band has an electric lute player."

"Oh, and Fearne's so excited," Dariax added. "She's been practicing extra hard all week on those pan pipes you lent her."

"Guys, guys." Even Orym's gentle tones made Dorian's head pound. "If Dorian says he's too sick to go, then he's too sick to go. We should believe him."

"What do you mean 'believe me'?" Dorian demanded. "Oh my god, you think I'm being a pussy, don't you?"

Orym hesitated for a fraction of a second too long before responding. "No, no, of course not."

"You do!" Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, mortally offended. "I don't believe this!"

"Hey, hey." Orym put up his hands. "It's okay. You don't have to go."

"Nooo," said Dorian, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm going." He stood up and staggered over to his closet. He had thought he was being responsible and proactive, taking care of his illness instead of pushing himself too hard. But the idea of his friends thinking he was sheltered, soft, weak was unbearable. His hand trembled as he searched through his clothes for something suitably impressive to wear, and a dim thought occurred to him that he might be acting irrationally because of his fever. He wasn't usually quite so concerned with appearances.

From the doorway, Opal, Dariax, and Orym watched. "Well," said Dariax, "that was easier than I thought."

"Yeah, Orym." Opal turned to him, impressed. "Where were you five hours ago? I could have gone home and watched The Bachelor."

"You still have" --Orym checked his watch-- "a good five hours."

"No, 'cause we're meeting Fearne for rehearsals at 5:00, remember? Once she gets back from visiting her grandma."

Dorian smothered a flurry of coughs into the crook of his arm, scowling when the colors of his shirts on their hangers began to blur in front of his eyes. "I need coffee," he announced once the fit was done, and marched off to the kitchen.

"Dorian, wait--" Orym said, but he didn't even pause. Orym looked between Dariax and Opal. "Is nobody else going to try and stop him?"

"Why the hell would we do that?" Dariax asked. "We've been here all morning trying to convince him to go."

"'Sides," said Opal. "You're the one who called him a pussy."

"I did not." Orym sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A sense of impending trouble prickled like static on the back of his neck. He really hadn't meant to make Dorian feel bad, even if he did think the genasi was being a touch melodramatic.

By the time they had finished with their pre-show dinner at Denny's, Orym sincerely regretted his harsh judgement of Dorian's condition. He had been quiet at practice, barely even saying hello to Fearne. She had given Orym a questioning look, and he had only been able to shrug helplessly at her. Dorian's cough got worse and worse all evening, culminating in a moment at dinner where he left for the bathroom and just didn't come back, leaving behind his mostly untouched plate.

Orym had found him leaning against the counter, breathing heavily and staring at nothing. The eyeliner Opal had so carefully applied was now smudged where Dorian had rubbed his eyes, and sweat stood on his brow. Orym had led him back to the table in silence after a few failed attempts at conversation.

By the time they got to the university's theater, Dorian could barely stand up straight. He was shaking so badly that his lute rattled in its case, and several passers-by did double takes when they saw him.

"Shit," said Orym, once they finally were backstage. "Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"S'fine," Dorian rasped.

"I don't know," Fearne said. She studied Dorian's braid. "You're about the same color as your hair," she said, indicating the pale blue tips.

"Yeah, I think Orym might be right," Dsriax said, shifting uncomfortably.

Dorian had to pause and catch his breath before responding, struggling to keep his balance on legs that suddenly felt too weak to support his weight for much longer. "You said…"

"Yeah!" said Dariax, turning to Orym. "You're the one who called him a pussy."

"Nobody called him a pussy," Orym said. He would have liked to have reached out to steady Dorian, who was still swaying dangerously, but could only reach about hip height. "Opal, Fearne, can one of you please get him before he--"

Dorian's knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, holding his stomach. "Oh, shit."

Noticing a few eyes on them, Dariax stepped away and began to pace back and forth in front of the group, daring someone to say something. "Fuck off," he muttered, replacing his concern with aggression at no one in particular.

"What hurts?" Opal asked, her fear of contagion forgotten. She knelt beside Dorian and put a hand on his back, and even through his thick leather jacket, the heat that met her hand made her gasp.

"Dizzy," Dorian said through clenched teeth. In a whisper, he said, "Please don't let me throw up in front of all these people."

"That one's kind of on you, buddy," Dariax said over his shoulder. "Try to hold still and look at something that's not moving."

Dorian swallowed hard and tried to focus on a distant guitar case. It was difficult to do with his head still whirling, and his stomach gave a dangerous lurch. He took a few deep breaths to try to steady himself and only succeeded in triggering a coughing fit that drove him sideways into Orym's chest.

"We need to get him out of here," Orym said, staggering back under Dorian's weight.

"Give…" Dorian's voice faded out. He cleared his throat. "Give me a second. I can walk."

"Here," Fearne held out her hand. "When you're ready."

After a few cautious breaths, Dorian grabbed Fearne's hand and stood slowly, blinking away silver spots. "Sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder as they started to walk out.

"Ah, don't apologize," Dariax said, swinging Dorian's lute case along with his steps. "Maybe we shouldn't have pressured you to come."

"More like definitely," Opal said. "We're sorry. I really thought we could have you feeling better."

"It's fine." Dorian gave a weak laugh and forced himself to pick his head up off Fearne's shoulder. "You're not the one who called me a pussy."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Orym muttered, privately grateful that Dorian was still mentally present enough to make jokes.

They all piled into Opal's beater, Fearne in the passenger seat and the other three crowded in the back. Dorian leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

#ethereous writes #sickfic

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fictional-orphan-smackdown · 5 months

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Once again I have no similarities. They should still fight tho

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Trafalgar D. Water Law (Once Piece)

Adrien Agreste (Miraculous Ladybug)

[Putting on a creepy white mask as I prepare to unleash the most insane lore ever written] Once upon a time…

Okay so not only is Adrien an orphan, but he's an orphan who unintentionally and unknowingly was partially responsible for their own orphaning. Adrien was created via the Peacock Miraculous, since his mom was infertile. But since the Peacock Miraculous was broken at the time, using it caused her to slowly become sick, until she "died" (mostly. Probably. She might have been on life support), just afew months before the show began. Later on, Ladybug had a plan to take down the Big Bad, Monarch (who, unbeknownst to the heroes, is actually Adrien's father), via putting him in a position where Chat Noir (Adrien's superhero alter ego) could threaten him with his Cataclysm, a superpower that destroys everything it touches. Monarch willingly took the Cataclysm, actually forcing Chat's hand onto himself, which infected him with that Cataclysm, meaning that he was slowly dying throughout the rest of the season. When the season 5 finale happened and Gabriel sacrificed his life to heal his assistant, and the closest person Adrien had had to an actual parent since Emilie died, he only had a few hours left to live anyway. Adrien is still unaware of how his parents died, he has no clue that either death involved him at all.

BIG MIRACULOUS LADYBUG SEASON 5 SPOILERS AHEAD Sooo first his mom went into a magical coma as the result of him being born through magical means and was considered dead/missing by everyone. They had a funeral for her and everything. Adrien dealt with it pretty well, but his father did not and decided to become a supervillain to get his wish, recreate the world and bring his wife back. Which he almost does! He ends up trading his life for (I assume) the life of his secretary/former crime partner/Adrien's mother figure and joining his wife in death. (We see wife's comatose body ascend with him so I guess she's dead? Sokka voice You know, it was really unclear) But anyway, yeah, our babyboy is a full orphan now! Also in an alternate timeline he accidentally created an apocalyptic event and killed everyone so it's not even the first time he was orphaned. So there's that

Adrien is the superhero Chat Noir, who had to fight his father as the supervillain Hawkmoth alongside his superhero partner Ladybug, neither Adrien nor Gabriel had any idea they were fighting each other, and Adrien still doesn't know his father was a supervillain, or how exactly he died, but Marinette does and is keeping it from him. Adrien's father is abusive towards him, having kept him effectively locked inside the house for the first 13 years of his life, and forcing him to model for his company. But still, Adrien is the sweetest boy ever to exist, he's endlessly kind to people, sometimes to his own detriment.

I am no good at infodumping I just love this little guy. However, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is such a close second, but I chose Adrien because he's from my current hyperfixation… ily Harrow. Listen, Adrien is the most guy and catgirl ever. If anything happens to him I will go nuts. Unfortunately, so much happens to him. I am not normal. Give my baby some hugs and some real parenting. Did I mention he was not even born as a real human being? Born at the cost of other's life? Oh my god that's actually so Harrow of him and this is so funny I can't do this anymore

#poll #one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir

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drabblily · 4 years

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Bad Confessions

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, of course. Fluff.

Word Count: 2.1k

Synopsis: Y/N seems to have fallen in love with a certain hotheaded blonde, might as well confess and get rejected to move on with it, right?

A/N: First Post! Hope you enjoy <3

------

Falling in love was scary.

There was nothing gentle about it, hence the “falling” part of it. You were either all in or not in at all. You could be pushed, you could take that jump, or you could accidentally take one certain step and fall to your impeding doom.

And it was so, so fucking terrifying to you. When you fall in love there is supposed to be someone waiting for you at the bottom to catch you, that was the fortunate option. The unfortunate side was that when you fall in love, that person could move at the last second to let you splat to the ground.

You guess, that’s what made you so scared of it. That someone would move to let you die. To be manipulated. To be used like that. It scared the hell out of you.

That was probably why you never noticed the signs when you were in it. The constant checking of a text message to see if he texted you, the sweaty hands and speedy heart whenever he walked by, the overthinking about him, trying to grab his attention by looking pretty.

It was torturous and you thought nothing of it, perhaps you were going crazy, though. Because you definitely should not be feeling like this.

So, you visited the school nurse, Recovery Girl, in hopes that she would cure your unknown disease.

“Hello? Recovery Girl?” You knocked on the open door to alert her that you were there before stepping in.

The old woman turned towards you with a smile on her face, “Hello, Y/N, are you hurt?”

You gulped, fiddling with your fingers, what if she weren’t able to help you? What if it was a fatal deadly disease and you couldn’t be cured no matter what??

“Well…actually, not really. I just think I might be feeling sick and wanted to ask you for your advice on how to help me out with it?”

She patted the hospital bed she had, implying for you to take a seat, so you did.

Recovery Girl silently grabbed her thermometer, going across your forehead to see if you had a temperature. You didn’t, normal temperature. She grabbed a stick and told you to open your mouth and say, “Ahhh…” With her gloves, she felt around your throat to see if there was anything that could hint at you being ill.

Unwrapping her gloves and throwing them out, she finally spoke with that constant smile of hers, “Well I did the minimum and it doesn’t look like you are sick. You don’t have a fever or any signs of a sore throat. Are you sure you feel sick? What are your symptoms exactly?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way you couldn’t be sick. Oh my god, what if you were right. What if you were uncurable!! Leg slightly bouncing in anxiousness, you told her, “W-well, actually, I think my mind is all fuzzy. I’ve been getting urges to check my phone when we are out of class…I sometimes get really feverish around people and it feels like my stomach is twisting when around somebody…do you think a villain could’ve used their quirk on me to make me feel like this?”

Your elder slightly chuckled, as if she knew a little secret, smiling even wider with a slight tint of pink to her cheeks, “Oh dearie,” She patted your bouncing leg to calm you down, “you sound like you’re in love.”

Your eyes widened, blood rushing throughout your entire face, “What! With who?”

“With whoever you want to be around, or whoever you think about most.” She clasped her hands together, nodding her head to convince you further. You couldn’t believe it though. You? In love? Doubtful, you were a future pro-hero! You had no time for love!

The bell rung, hinting you should be at your first period class soon, “Well, dearie, you better get to class now. You know how your teacher acts when you are late.”

You numbly nodded, jumping off the hospital bed and walking out of the nurse’s room. On your way to class, you felt heavier, your mind racing with ideas of who exactly you could be “in love” with. No one came to mind. It was torturous.

Finally, you made it to class, opening the door—luckily Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t here yet—and walking to your seat. Eyes scanning the chatter filled room, you made eye contact with mean crimson eyeballs, your heart picking up pace and your tummy feeling nauseated again.

“Got somethin’ to say, damn extra!?” His rough voice asked you loudly, looking to pick a fight.

Your bottom lip quivered in realization, breaking eye contact and sitting down in your chair. You put your head on the table between your arms, “No no no no no no…him?? Really? That cannot be true, he’s an asshole for crying out loud, what is wrong with you??”

You felt a loud slam on your table, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you, dumbass!”

Your head jolted up at the suddenness, your big eyes staring up at your crush and classmate, Bakugo in confusion and sudden fear. Your cheeks flushed and you licked your lips, feeling thirsty out of nowhere now, “I…”

You noticed a deep red dust his ears as he opened his mouth, “Nevermind.”

Heart skipping a beat at his unexpected calmness, your eyes trailed his body as he stomped away to his chair with a slouch in his posture.

You felt a tap on your right shoulder, your close friend, Mina leaning over to whisper to you, “Bakugo’s never that nice to anyone, he’s totally got the hots for you!!” She squealed in excitement.

You choked on your air, sputtering out words, “N-No! I doubt that’s it, he probably just didn’t want to deal with Aizawa-sensei, he could’ve walked in at any second after all…”

The pink alien playfully punched your shoulder whilst giggling, “Hah! Yeah right, he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble, he totally has a crush on you, I can tell!”

You opened your mouth to respond when your teacher walked in with a ‘dead inside’ expression plastered onto his face, the entire class going silent so they wouldn’t get in trouble.

----

Ever since you found out your crush on your hotheaded classmate two weeks ago, you’ve done your best to avoid him as well as possible. No eye contact, no walking near each other, no talking—which meant also doing your best to not piss him off so you wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to one another. You did whatever you could in hopes of your stupid crush on him to fade away.

But nothing was working. So, you could only come to one reasonable conclusion.

Confess to him. You knew rejection was coming and you just wanted to get it over with so you could wallow in self pity instead.

Maybe that’s why you were here, standing in front of Bakugo Katsuki’s door, a rather large lump caught in your throat as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Swallowing it down, your fist quivered, hesitating to actually knock.

You couldn’t do this. It was way too nerve wracking and you were too much of a coward to actually do it. Placing your hand back down to your side in defeat, you pressed your head on the wall next to his door with a sigh.

“Why can’t I just tell him…” You murmured to yourself, looking down at your hands, imagining his rough ones holding yours. Which was stupid, considering it would never happen, you told yourself, pushing the silly daydreams away.

“What the fuck did you just say, damn extra?”

The sudden voice made you yelp, jumping away only to trip on your own foot and fall straight onto your ass. You groaned at the impact your palms and butt just got, both in extreme pain. You brought your hands up to your line of sight, inspecting how they were red and felt like it burned.

The man above you clicked his tongue in frustration before offering you his hand, “Dumbass. How did you hurt yourself from that?”

“I...” You started, grabbing his hand hesitantly; staring at your hands connected made blood rush to your face, “You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”

The blond snorted, “Idiot. How are you going to become a hero if you just jump from hearing my voice.” He mocked, narrowing his eyes at you before tugging you up and off the ground.

You flushed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his to cover your face in embarrassment, “Shut up…”

“What the fuck are you doing in this hall anyways?”

“I just, um, you see…”

“Spit it out already, idiot.”

You peeked through your fingers, making eye contact with him, and taking a deep breath, “I just…wanted to tell you something.”

Bakugo crossed his arms—which you couldn’t help but admire how his muscles tensed and moved—raising one annoyed eyebrow at you to signify to continue.

Okay. You had to do this now or never. If you didn’t do it now, youd be a failure, a disgrace. Maybe rejection was what you needed! Maybe if he rejected you, your feelings for the hothead would dissipate and you could focus on more important things, like being a hero. Not fantasizing what kissing your classmate would feel like in the middle of a test.

‘Okay, just spit it out. You can do this’ You told yourself, putting your hands together and gulping.

“Alright, just listen,” You glanced towards him, seriously, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt you until you got your words out so you wouldn’t feel like a fool midway, “I, well to put it simply, I think…I think I like you, a lot. And its terrifying because ive never felt this way about anyone before. But I know you don’t feel the same way, so…please—”

Before you knew what was happening, Bakugo pushed forward, uncrossing his arms to grab ahold of you.

This was different. A lot different than how you expected.

Soft lips captured yours, passionately. You froze up, your mind going haywire trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now. You noticed two things, does this mean he liked you back? It had to be right? That thought made you dizzy, there was no way this man liked you back. Bakugo fucking Katsuki, no way.

The man in question pulled away, taking note of your flustered expression, smirking at it waiting for you to speak again.

You reached up to touch your lips, still unbelieving that just happened. The second thing you notice was that his lips, oh god. They were heaven. You expected them to be chapped, rough, but it was far from it. Of course! This man would be perfect like this, after all he did seem like one to take care of himself.

Suddenly snapping up to your senses, your eyes widened, “W-what was that!? I said not to interrupt me!”

Katsuki snickered, “Seriously? I just fucking kissed you and you’re thinking about how I interrupted your stupid confession?”

“N-no! The kiss was nice!” His smirk widened. “No! It wasn’t nice, that’s not what I meant! Well, it was nice, I mean I liked it of course! B-but—”

“You’re stupidly cute when you ramble, you know?”

Your breath hitched before reaching over to smack his arm for teasing you, his strong hand catching your wrist and tugging you into his arms, his free hand coming to grip your waist.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined, struggling against his grip to leave your embarrassment.

“Hell no. Its fun to see your expressions when I do.” Bakugo grinned, his grip tightening for a second, “Your confession was ass though.”

You placed your head on his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but he didn’t have to point it out for crying out loud!

You felt the pressure on your wrist disappear only for it to show up on your chin, “Hey, look at me.” His vermillion eyes surprisingly gentle, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

You were the one to lean in this time, tilting your chin up to kiss him, after all, you didn’t exactly reciprocate it when he did. However, Bakugo immediately responded, his mouth moving against yours with a passion.

After what seemed like an eternity to you—which in reality was about thirty or so seconds—you pulled away, speechless and breathless.

His forehead leaned against yours, his eyes snapping open to make eye contact with you, “I like you too dummy, don’t forget it.”

212 notes · View notes

tribbleclefs · 4 years

Note

bones

1) sexuality headcanon: either bi or straight

2) otp: I don’t really ship him with anyone in particular!

3) brotp: the classic triumvirate w. jim and spock <3 I also mourn the scrapped tos episode idea where I’m pretty sure he and uhura were going to be the central characters, it would have been neat to see them as friends!! and who could forget: bones + chapel powerful sickbay duo that strike fear into the hearts of their stubborn patients

4) notp: N/A

5) first headcanon that pops into my head: you know the trademark Bones Bounce™? I imagine other members of the crew pick up the habit from him so you start to get lots of people rocking back and forth on their heels whenever they’re pleased/irritated or satisfied about winning an argument

6) favourite line(s) from this character: some silly ones that come to mind are “By golly, Jim, I’m beginning to feel like I can cure a rainy day!” and “Get this muscleman outta my sickbay!!” (I can’t remember which episode it’s from but it made me laugh so hard)

7) one way in which I relate to this character: I too have a strong desire to help others and sometimes neglect my own health in favour of this 😶😶

8) thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: the xenophobia towards spock gets so out of hand. like half the time it’s just an excuse to insult him instead of expressing concern about whatever’s happening

9) cinnamon roll or problematic fave: bones has a big heart and he cares so deeply about his loved ones <3 aside from his behaviour towards spock sometimes tending towards malice (probably the showrunners trying to create unnecessary conflict) he’s a wonderful character and the way deforest kelley brought him to life is such a joy to watch

#star trek tos #asks #anon #ask game #thank you for the ask!#i'm slow so i might post the rest of these tomorrow

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Have Your Name (And Your Back) Chapter 4

Viridi drops in to say hello, and Patton's left with more questions than answers

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, self-deprecating thoughts, descriptions of Patton's 'punishments', touch starvation, mentions of cannibalism and torture (courtesy of Remus), boys in skirts, malnourishment and bruises

“What are you doing out of bed?”

Patton jumped, staring at the figure with wide eyes. It took a moment for him to recognize the person leaning into the doorway. Lord Ignis’ brother. Isn’t his name Viridi? Patton then registered the question and bowed his head. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I know I’m n-not allowed to leave the room, b-but I had to use the r-restroom, and-”

Viridi stepped forward, and Patton immediately went quiet. He did his best to not curl in on himself in fear, knowing that would only make his punishment worse. Hopefully, he would only get a slap or two for disobedience, but Patton was never good at judging the severity of things (it sometimes felt like there was no set severity, but that was silly because Patton deserved it). As the seconds ticked by with no pain or verbal command Patton felt himself tense up more and more. Mother and Father never waited, always punishing him immediately. So why wasn’t he being touched or ordered? Does he want me to clarify my disobedience? No, then he would tell me to do so. If he wanted me to continue speaking he could’ve just punished me for being silent. Maybe he wants to wait so I don’t know when it’s coming-

Patton’s vision started to blur, his mind racing. Images of past punishments flickered through his head. Does he want me to pick my punishment? Mother made me do that sometimes. Maybe he’s waiting for me to kneel so he can lash me with his belt. But Father always told me to kneel or pushed me down. He’s not doing anything why isn’t he hurting me what’s my punishment I’m scared I can’t breathe-

Patton felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched. The hand didn’t move at all, just applying enough pressure for Patton to know it was there. It could push me to the ground or slap my face or strangle me or-

The hand shifted to his back, and the rest of Viridi’s body seemed to press itself against Patton. “Focus, Kid. You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.” Patton felt something warm spread throughout his body, moving from his chest to the tips of his toes. His head felt fuzzy and when he opened his eyes, everything had an odd green tint. He couldn’t see Viridi anymore, his head on his shoulder. Patton couldn’t tell what was happening. Why were Viridi’s arms around him? Is he going to squeeze me until all my bones break? Patton whimpered at the thought.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Patton went silent at the question, and Viridi elaborated. “The thoughts. You shouldn’t have this many bad thoughts.” Patton whimpered again, ashamed at how weak and broken he was. “Hey, I heard that. Just because you have bad thoughts doesn’t mean you’re weak or broken.”

Patton gasped. “I-I’m sorry sir, I d-didn’t mean to speak out of turn!” He whimpered as he remembered the pain he got in the kitchen for speaking out loud.

The green tint became stronger as Viridi spoke. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re not getting punished for speaking your mind. Actually, we want you to talk, Kid. It’s easier to understand what’s wrong when you talk. And you didn’t actually say that out loud, I heard your thoughts.”

Patton frowned, confused. “You heard my thoughts?”

Suddenly the green tint became a green light, swirling around in Patton’s vision. He gasped at the sight. He brought his hand up to touch the light and gasped again. The light was covering his entire hand, licking against his skin like a warm fire. “It’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” Patton nodded, staring at the light. “That’s my magic. Me and your Godfather can both do it. Fire magic and Dream magic. It helps us see what your thinkin’, though I’m the only one that can see these nasty thoughts.”

Patton frowned at the implications. “I’m sorry you have to see those. My pa-” Lord Ignus didn’t want me to call them that “Lord and Lady Hart wanted me to remember my punishments so I would learn my lesson and behave better.”

There was a pause before Viridi spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “So those were memories, not just random ideas?” Patton nodded, and he felt Viridi’s hold get slightly tighter. “When I get my hands on those bastards-”

Patton whimpered as he felt the pressure increase. It wasn’t anywhere near painful, but he didn’t know what was going on and his best guess was that he was going to be crushed. He tried to stop himself from stiffening up (when had he relaxed?), knowing that it would just make it worst. Please don’t hurt me please don’t-

The arms immediately went lax, but they didn’t move. “Why do you think I’ll hurt ya?” Patton thought back to getting crushed, and the green light got slightly brighter for a few seconds. “Crush you? Why would… oh.” Viridi’s hands began rubbing small circles into Patton’s back. “Do you not know what a hug is?”

Patton frowned. “A… hug?” He’d never heard of that word before.

Viridi sighed. “It’s a form of comfort. Here, wrap your arms around me.” Patton followed the order, still confused. “You’re supposed to add just enough pressure to comfort, not enough to hurt. I’m gonna hug you now, okay? Tell me if you wanna stop.” Patton nodded as the arms squeezed him lightly.

The pressure was… Patton couldn’t think of a word to describe it. He’d thought that the green light was warm, it was nothing compared to this. It felt like a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, protecting him from the chill. It reminded him of a long lost friend, or seeing your shadow after years in the dark. It feels like home.

Patton broke down, sobbing into Viridi’s shoulder. He felt Viridi start to pull away and he whined, trying to pull him closer. The hug was almost painfully warm but it felt right. Viridi sighed. “I’m sorry they hurt you, Kid. If I could, I would make them pay a thousand times over. I would rip off their toes and feed them to the other. I would make them relive every punishment you’ve ever had and have them trapped in an endless cycle of pain as they bled out.”

The thought of Viridi hurting Patton’s parents should’ve made Patton feel… something . Anger, fear, sympathy. But all Patton felt was calm and… happy. Safe. He truly cares.

Viridi sighed, adjusting his hold. Suddenly, Patton was being held off of the ground, safety in Viridi’s arms. The green light fully dissipated as he spoke. “C’mon, Kid. You need to lay-”

“Patton.” Viridi stiffened, but Patton continued. “My name’s Patton.”

Viridi shuddered. “Do you know anything about the fae, Kid?”

Patton frowned. “Fae?”

Viridi sighed. “I’m… not the best at explaining this sort of thing. Just know that you shouldn’t give away your name all willy nilly. And don’t get upset when we don’t call you by your real name.” He carried Patton over to the bed. “Names hold a lot of power to the Fae.” He leaned over the bed and let go, Patton’s lower half landing softly on the bed. His hands stayed tight around Viridi. “Kid, I need you to let go. You need rest, and I have some things I’ve gotta do.” Patton frowned, but he let go, leaning back against the pillows. “Get some sleep, kid. My bro will be here soon with some food. And if you need me, just call for the Duke!”

Patton tilted his head. “The Duke?”

Viridi smiled, but this time it seemed a little too wide, his teeth a little too sharp. “I told ya, names hold a lot of power to the Fae. You may call me the Duke.”

Patton frowned. “I thought your name was Viridi?”

Viridi the Duke chuckled. “That’s the name that I let those assholes call me. That doesn’t mean it’s my real name. No one here gives away their real name unless they’ve earned it.” He gave a dramatic bow. “See ya, Patty-Cake!” The green light came back, bright enough for Patton to close his eyes, and suddenly the Duke was gone.

Patton stared at the now empty spot. That looked eerily similar to the first time Patton’s Fairy Godfather disappeared, after they made the deal. All of this seemed impossible, but apparently it was.

Magic. Patton didn’t know much about magic. Everything he had ever learned was from other staff members or things he overheard while visiting the market. He remembered one of the maids talking about magic and love, but Patton didn’t think that was what the Duke was talking about. They had a gardener once that taught Patton the different uses for plants. They had spoken of magic and curses and cures for anything under the sun. But they spoke about witches, not Fae.

What are the Fae, anyway? It sounded a lot like Fairy, so it would make sense if they were one and the same, right? The Duke said that he was one of the Fae, and Lord Ignis was Patton’s Fairy Godfather, so they were probably the same thing. Patton tried to remember everything about them that seemed off. They can make warm light that makes my head go fuzzy. They can read minds? The Duke said only he and Fairy Godfather could do that. The Duke also said that they all use fake names, and both he and Umbra said that I shouldn’t tell them my name. They can appear and disappear. Umbra healed the cut on my hand. Fairy Godfather did something magical when he told Mother and Father to not look at me. And the Duke made the blood on his face disappear- oh shoot, I forgot to apologize for undercooking his chicken! I’ll probably get punished if I tell him, but I’ll get in more trouble if I don’t say anything because Fairy Godfather and Umbra already know.

Patton groaned, sitting up. All this thinking about magic and Fae made his head hurt. He had so many questions and no answers. And he was starting to feel twitchy by this point. He had already felt bad when the Duke found him but didn’t punish him, and this was the longest Patton had ever gone without cleaning or cooking or doing something productive.

After a few more minutes of fidgeting, Patton got back up. He made his bed and fluffed the pillows, but was disappointed when he realized there was nothing left to clean. The room was mostly bare and everything was spotless. Patton frowned. He always had something to clean at home, so he could prove his worth. How could he prove that he was a good godson if he couldn’t clean?

Patton scanned the room before his eyes landed on the walk-in closet. It looked empty when Patton first walked in, but maybe he overlooked a cobweb or something? Patton shuddered at the thought of spiders, but he pressed onwards.

The closet was pitch black until Patton fully stepped inside. There was apparently a set of fairy lights on the ceiling that lit up once he entered. Patton shut the door and moved further into the closet, studying every square inch. The racks and drawers were all empty, not a single item of clothing in sight. Patton wondered if the room he had been staying in was a guest room of sorts, though it looked more like a master bedroom to him. When he reached the end of the closet, Patton was surprised to see a little wooden platform and a full-length mirror. Patton took a look at himself and winced. His hair was a mess, his clothes were ripped, and the bruise on his face still hadn’t gone away. Patton stepped up on the platform, wanting to get a better look at himself when he felt a surge of warmth around him. Patton immediately flinched, not expecting the sudden warmth that immediately disappeared. When Patton opened his eyes, he didn’t see anything different at first. His hair was still messy, his clothes were still torn, and his bruise was still there. It wasn’t until Patton turned around that he saw it.

The entire closet was now filled with clothes, all in different styles and colors. Shirts, pants, suits, dresses, skirts, everything! Patton was pretty sure he saw some undergarments and accessories peeking out of the drawers!

Patton stared at it all in awe, not even realizing he had moved until he was rubbing a shirt between his fingers. It was soft, softer than any clothing Patton had ever touched, much less anything Patton had ever worn. Patton carefully pulled it off of the rack and held it up against his chest at the mirror. It looked like a perfect fit.

Patton giggled, and for the first time that he could remember, Patton felt pure joy as he sorted through the clothes. He carefully held every clothing item up to the mirror, giggling every time. Sometimes he would make a silly face at the mirror, giggling so hard that he needed to take a break for air.

Patton went through dozens of clothes before an outfit stood out. It was a sky blue shirt and a white shirt. The shirt sleeves were long and billowy, longer than his arms and big enough at the ends to fit his whole head inside. The skirt was also quite long and billowy, ending just a few inches above his ankles.

Patton looked up at the mirror and bit his lip. The outfit was so pretty, and it looked like it was made to fit Patton perfectly. And Patton’s current clothes were so dirty and torn. But Patton wasn’t told that he could wear these…

Patton looked down at the outfit and smiled. His Fairy Godfather probably wouldn’t be back for a little while. He could just try on the clothes and then put them back! Patton giggled at his own brilliance as he set the clothes off to the side.

Patton slowly took off his clothes, wincing at the sight. His skin was extremely pale, with various bruises painting awful images across the surface. His torso was the worst, with dark bruises and shallow cuts. He could perfectly trace most of his ribs, and his stomach was caved in slightly. Patton frowned at his body. He knew it wasn’t good to look like this, even if he deserved it.

Patton searched through the drawers until he found a pair of underwear he was comfortable with, slipping them on along with the shirt and skirt. He looked back in the drawer and saw some pretty white knee socks to go with the outfit, and rows of shoes sat on the shelves below. Patton frowned; he didn’t actually know where his shoes were, since they weren’t on him when he woke up. Patton shrugged, deciding to complete the outfit. He quickly tugged on the socks and a pair of blue mary janes. He went to turn back to the mirror when something sparkly caught his eye. Patton looked into one of the half-open drawers and saw jewelry, hair accessories, and a hairbrush.

Patton held the brush in awe. When was the last lime Patton was allowed to brush his hair? He slowly pulled the brush through his tangled hair, watching with awe as it went through his hair with ease. Magic brush, he thought giddily as he finished brushing his hair. He put the brush back in the drawer and stepped back onto the platform, gasping when he looked into the mirror.

Is that… me? Patton held up his hand, watching as mirror Patton did the same. But the boy in the mirror couldn’t be Patton. He looked so… clean. And pretty. And… happy.

Knock knock knock

Patton jumped, spinning around (if he wasn’t terrified he would’ve giggled at the way his skirt fanned out). He froze when he heard a voice on the other side of the door.

“Pat? Are you in there? Your food’s ready.”

Patton nearly cried at his Fairy Godfather’s voice. He wanted to do so many things at that moment. Run to his Fairy Godfather. Run and hide. Quickly try to change his clothes back. Tell his Fairy Godfather to go away. Tell him to come in. But Patton didn’t do any of that. Instead, he stood frozen with fear as the doorknob jiggled.

“Pat? I’m gonna open the door now, okay? Just to make sure that you’re okay.” Patton watched with tears in his eyes and his breath caught in his throat as the door slowly swung open.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

#sanders sides fic #Fairy Mafia #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders

30 notes · View notes

rufousnmacska · 4 years

Text

Secrets and Confessions - Part 6

A Crescent City Ruhn-Hypaxia story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

*****

Heavy beats of music and peals of laughter escaped from the open windows of the townhouse, carried down the sidewalk on the warm night breeze. When she reached the door and raised her hand to knock, Hypaxia hesitated. Days ago, Bryce had given her the address, and the encouragement to come here. But now ... now she wasn’t sure if she could do this. As much as she wanted to see Ruhn, wanted to repair this break between them, she still had no idea how she was going to tell him about the prophecy.

Jesiba hadn’t cared if she told Ruhn everything, yet the witch had forbade her from telling Bryce. Hypaxia couldn’t see a scenario where Ruhn kept this from his sister.

Then again, the more she’d considered, the more she thought he would. He’d do anything to protect Bryce. And if that meant offering himself up as a sacrifice to ensure a safe future for her, for them all … Well. That was definitely his style.

A smile crossed her face. He tried so hard to make himself look imposing and uncaring, hoping no one would see the goodness concealed behind that dark and dangerous first impression. Hoping no one would hear the self-deprecation hidden beneath his snarky humor. Doing whatever it took to distance himself from his father.

Fuck it, she thought. Not one to swear often, she’d heard enough from Ruhn and taken up the habit when the moment called for it. And right now was a fuck it moment.

It took several knocks for the music to be turned down and for someone to come and open the door. The fae who’d mastered the vidscreen feeds at the summit stood in front of her. He stared for a second, clearly trying to place her face. His eyes widened comically when he did.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, half bowing, half beckoning her to come inside.

She bit back a laugh. “You don’t have to do that. Really.”

“You’re the witch queen,” he said, as if that was that. No more discussion. But then he added, “Uh, Ruhn’s upstairs. Was he expecting you?”

Hypaxia had been hurt to learn Bryce knew nothing of her relationship with Ruhn. It seemed his sister had been right in her assessment that it had more to do with them being siblings than anything else. His friends knew. And even though the three were practically joined at the hip, making it almost impossible for them not to know, the thought centered her, giving her a boost of confidence.

“No,” she admitted, glancing behind him into the living room. Several sets of eyes looked back, some drugged, some clear, none with any recognition of who she was. Except for the other fae male that made up the trio. He was on his phone, staring at her, a slow, crooked grin taking shape on his face. He was more conventionally handsome than the techie, but less so than Ruhn.

It was funny how quickly she’d taken to using Ruhn as some sort of baseline. The balanced lines of his face, the sound of his laugh, the polite way he always held the door for her. The fire in his blue eyes and passion in his voice when he spoke about a case he was working on for the Aux.

By Cthona, it had all snuck up on her. He had snuck up on her, in so many ways.

She pointed to the staircase and started towards it, asking the tech guy, “Which is his room?” But before she reached the first step, Ruhn appeared at the top, sliding into the banister from a full run.

It had been so long – too long – since they’d last been face to face. The sight of him, in loose hanging pants and a t-shirt that looked as if it had just been thrown on, his hair pulled back, his eyes fixed on her … Hypaxia froze. Froze and waited for his reaction. Examining his eyes, she found none of the hurt that had clouded them before.

Taking the steps a few at a time, he descended, took her hand and silently led her back up, ignoring his friends the entire time. She squeezed his hand, and hope sparked to life when she felt his grip tighten in return.

*****

Ruhn had been staring at his phone for half an hour, his finger hovering over her name, growing more and more pissed off that he was taking Ketos’s advice. He wanted to call Hypaxia. He just didn’t want it to be at the behest of the mer. Though, he had to admit that Tharion was a decent male, coming here and giving Ruhn the kick in the ass he needed… Even if he’d basically threatened to go after Pax if Ruhn didn’t. Then again, he couldn’t be sure that Tharion hadn’t implied him in the threat, and not Pax.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, realizing he was stalling. But just as he was about to make the call, his phone buzzed.

Flynn’s smirk practically poured out of the earpiece. “Your witch queen just showed up.”

Ruhn was out the door and sprinting down the hallway before another word was said. He’d managed to grab a shirt – was it clean? He didn’t fucking know – and got it on just as he reached the top of the stairs, almost killing himself trying to stop.

Hypaxia had a foot on the lowest step but didn’t move when she saw him.

The sight of her was like opening your eyes to color after seeing nothing but gray for years. Like the first gasp of air after being pulled from drowning. Like … like … He couldn’t think of another dumb metaphor. She was happiness. Serenity. She was all he wanted.

And he’d spent the last few weeks being an asshole. Gods he hoped she could forgive him.

Skipping down the stairs, he reached for her hand and brought her back up. The strength with which she held on to him sent a jolt through his chest, as if he’d been struck by lightning. The starlight inside started to bubble to life but he put a lid on it. It was at that moment that he realized his magic had been dormant. The last time he’d called on it had been with her. Since he’d left her in that park, he hadn’t summoned it, hadn’t felt it. And now, in her presence, by her touch, it was aching to burst out of him.

*****

When they were alone in his room, Ruhn let go. Immediately, the lack of his touch, brief though it had been, left her cold. He paced around, not saying anything, not looking at her. The spark of hope from seconds ago flickered, threatening to go out.

As she watched him walk in circles, she took note of the space. Large enough for a huge bed, a couple of sofas arranged around a vidscreen and elaborate music system, a work table half filled with gadgets and weapons in the process of being fixed or cleaned, a desk holding files and papers, a wall of stuffed bookshelves.

Bryce’s description of the place as a pig sty came back, and without thinking, she said, “You cleaned.”

Ruhn stopped and spun around, staring at her suspiciously, trying to figure out how she could know he’d done anything since she’d never stepped foot inside his house before.

“Uhh,” she muttered, “I can smell the cleaner.” She sniffed the air, finding nothing but his scent there. The scent she’d missed when it had faded from her sheets and apartment.

His eyebrow quirked upwards as he smiled at her, having figured out what had happened. “Bryce spoke to you.”

Hypaxia nodded, trying not to let herself be carried away by his smile. More than anything, she’d missed that. Making him laugh with a silly joke, making him smirk with desire, making him grin from the sound of her singing.

“Listen, Pax.” He ran his hand through his hair, only to get it caught up in the tie holding it back. With a harsh curse, he yanked it out, letting his black hair fall like a silk sheet.

Ogling him like a lovesick witchling, she was glad his eyes were downcast. At least until she could shake herself back to reality. And back to what she needed to do.

“Wait. I need to explain something first,” she said, regaining his full attention. His bright blue gaze was going to be distracting. After a deep breath, she went on. “Yes, I am a member of the rebellion. And yes, I wanted to recruit you. I think you understand why I couldn’t tell you about it. I may be a queen, but I’m young and newly crowned. My opinions aren’t given much weight among the leaders.”

Ruhn made a quiet huff of disapproval and crossed his arms. Hypaxia eased towards him, moving slowly as if he might disappear if she got too close.

“I did not pretend or exaggerate my feelings for you. This wasn’t a ploy to get you to help. In fact, I should never have become involved with you at all. I knew it could complicate things. But … you saw me. The real me. Before I was officially recognized as queen. Before the full weight of this new life started to pull me under. The way you looked at me made me feel ... real. Alive in a way that if I messed up or said the wrong thing, it would all be okay. I love you.”

Carefully, she brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand. At his intake of breath, at the pebbling of his skin, her hope from earlier returned. Perhaps he could see through the fog of self-doubt and insecurity that his father had poisoned him with. A poison that could not be removed by her magic. She could not fix him, and he was no cure for her troubles. The doubt that she’d never be the queen her mother was. The fear of leading her people in the war to come. These plagued her as much as Ruhn’s demons afflicted him.

Either he’d believe her or not. Believe in himself, or not. Fight his demons, or not.

She loved him. And she knew with certainty that though they could not cure each other, they could help each other. He’d already done that by being a safe haven from her daily responsibilities. A source of laughter and love, offering an ear to listen and a font of supportive words. He was what she needed. She wanted to be that for him.

Hypaxia realized that Ruhn was staring deep into her eyes, as if he knew what she’d been thinking. The smile that tugged at his lips at that moment reminded her of his magical abilities. Flames licked at her cheeks as she blushed, her eyes closing in mortification.

Shit.

“You heard all that?” She opened her eyes to find him grinning. He nodded. Scrunching her eyes up again, she said, “Please, say something.”

“Something.”

“Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance and trying hard not to laugh. She failed.

But before she could say or do anything else, his hands were cradling her face and he was kissing her. She pressed herself into his body, relishing the feel of him, his warmth and solidity. One of his hands dropped to her lower back, eliciting a moan from both of them. The twin sounds were like fuel poured onto a fire, and with a single swift motion, Ruhn lifted her up. With her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, they deepened their kiss.

She was utterly lost in him. That scent of warm spices that called to her. The quick nip of his teeth on her lower lip that had her sighing his name. The way he groaned in reply, loving even the faintest sound of her voice. The pressure of his strong hands, holding her hips firmly against him.

And of course, his starlight.

Hypaxia opened her eyes as they kissed, intoxicated by the glow of his magic.

And just as he was about to lay her down on his bed, that starlight broke through the haze of desire, reminding her of the other reason why she was here.

*****

Ruhn had never experienced a natural high like this. No amount of alcohol, mirthroot, or any other drug could compare to it. To her.

Every sense was on overload and he was damn close to blowing a fuse. How had he lasted so long without her? How had he been so fucking stupid to stay away? Hypaxia had no reason to forgive him, and yet she had. She had no reason to be with him. And yet, here she was.

Somehow, she loved him.

Somehow. The disbelief threatened to undo him as much as the sensation of kissing her. He stood on a precipice that overlooked two possible outcomes. A leap off one side meant descending into hate and misery, an all too familiar landscape where his father would always be in control. A leap off the other meant love. Love and trust. In himself and Hypaxia.

Either he’d believe her or not. Believe in himself, or not.

She hadn’t intended for him to hear that. And he hadn’t lurked inside her mind to listen. It was as if she’d been yelling it into his brain. As if her magic sang to him. A song almost as sweet as her true voice.

“Gods, Pax,” he groaned into her neck as he laid her back onto his bed. “I’ve missed you.” He propped himself above her, watching her stare in awe as his light slowly faded. “I am so sorry for everything I said. For letting all my shit get in the way. I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“We all have shit that gets in the way of things,” she said, tucking his hair behind an ear.

“Even when you swear it’s like a symphony,” he said, getting her to laugh. And promptly melting at the sound.

“I meant what I said.” Red bloomed on her cheeks. “Or, didn’t say. We both have demons. I want to help you with yours.”

“And I’ll help you too. I’m sorry for being such an ass and overreacting.”

“Well, I need to apologize too.”

“No, you don’t,” he said.

She scooted out from under him to sit in the middle of the bed. “I handled it poorly. For that, I’m sorry.”

In the space of a few seconds, she’d grown serious, and Ruhn suddenly became worried. Had the rebel leaders punished her for being with him? Or for him finding out about them? Tharion hadn’t mentioned anything was wrong the night before when he’d stopped by.

“What is it?” he asked, sliding over to sit next to her. She crossed her legs and looked around the room, gathering her thoughts. “Does this have something to do with the prophecy?”

“What?” She practically jumped out of her skin.

He shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. In reality, he was starting to freak the fuck out.

“When I overheard you that night. With Tharion. He said something about a prophecy.”

Hypaxia’s throat bobbed and it seemed like she had to force herself to look him in the eyes.

“That bad, huh?” he said, trying for lightness. When she didn’t reply, he added, “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. I don’t want to get you in trouble for sharing secret intel or anything.”

For a moment, she looked like she might take the out he was offering. Might claim that it was top secret and that until he joined the rebels and was allowed to know, he’d have to stay in the dark. Ruhn had no idea what this prophecy might entail, but he had enough experience with them to know they were bullshit and ruined lives, even if they never came true. He was about to say as much when she finally spoke.

“It involves the endgame of this rebellion,” Pax said, taking one of his hands in hers. “You know about Theia and her daughters.” He nodded, trying not to get distracted by the warmth of her skin on his. “About how Pelias used the starsword to close the rift and seal off the demons from Hel to end the war?”

“I know the basics. Just what’s been passed down in bedtime stories. The books I’ve read don’t go into detail.”

“The legend is widespread, but it’s not accurate. The true history is murky. Even so, many prophecies sprang from that story, and that time. Some told by the fae, some by the witches, even the shifters, and sprites. The angels may even have some. But there’s one prophecy in particular that is shared by your kind and mine. We refer to it as the blade and the sword.”

Ruhn laughed, relief filling him. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one. Except it’s a knife and blade.” He waved off the different words, then, sitting up straight like a school boy, he recited, “When knife and blade are reunited, so shall our people be.”

Hypaxia didn’t smile. “Terminology aside, the fae version is only about your people. Mine applies to all the people of Midgard. All except the asteri.”

Ruhn thought about that for a moment. It was no wonder the rebels would fixate on that prophecy if they saw it as a means for liberation from the asteri. Glancing to where the starsword hung on the wall, he asked, “How long-”

“I’ve known about it for all my life,” she interrupted, guessing his question. “It was part of my schooling. But it was only yesterday that I was told specifics. About the greater implications.”

She was squeezing the hel out of his hand, and when he looked at it, she dropped it like it had burned her skin. He kept staring, trying to make sense of the fragmented thoughts running through his head. He believed her that she wasn’t using him to fulfill a prophecy. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t gambling away the hopes of the rebels on him.

The Chosen One. Chosen for nothing but the end of the Valbaran royal bloodline.

It was like the ocean. This darkness in his head. Endless and eternal. The doubts and loathing might go away for a short time. But like waves, they always came back. Sometimes big as swells during a storm.

“I’m not really sure what to tell you. If you think because I have that sword that I’m some kind of savior for the rebellion ... I may have pulled it out of the stone, but it’s powerless without the knife. And more importantly, it calls to my sister.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “Not me.”

He’d never said it out loud before. That the starsword, the fabled weapon of the Chosen One, didn’t really belong to him. He’d seen how it reacted to Bryce, the way it vibrated, the starlight glinting on its surface, inching towards her, wanting to be in her hand, not his. He’d seen how she tried to ignore it. At the time, he had no fucking idea that she possessed true starlight magic, let alone how much. But once she’d revealed it by going supernova, it had all made sense.

He stood and began to pace again. “I can’t do fuck all for your rebellion. But here’s something you can add to your list of prophecies,” he said, a bitterness in his voice that rarely played anywhere outside of his own head. “The Oracle told me that I’d be the end of the royal line. That’s what I’ve been chosen for. Not to be a good king. Not to save the fae. I’ve tried finding a silver lining. Some meaning that doesn’t involve death. But ending my father’s reign can’t be done peacefully. My only destiny is destruction.”

Hypaxia said nothing, just watched him with big brown eyes that seemed to see right through him. This was the part where she’d make some excuse. Realize how beneath her he really was. Realize no royal line would want to be tainted by his presence.

*****

She felt him fading. Falling into some dark place where all his fears resided. Closing the space between them she lifted his head so he was forced to look at her. She concentrated on how much she loved him, hoping his magic would hear and drive away the defeat in his eyes.

Caressing his cheek, she said, “I know about the starsword.” At his surprise, she hurried to explain. “Jesiba told me. Where she gets her information, I have no idea.” More somber, she went on. “As for the Oracle, I might have an explanation for that.”

Hypaxia continued, telling him about the intricacies of the blade and sword prophecy. That the two things must be joined in order to seal the rift. Pelias had wielded the starsword and possessed starlight magic, just as the stories told. But the blade that was not a blade, that had been Helena’s sister, an unnamed daughter of Theia who possessed barely a trickle of starlight. Just enough, that when combined with Pelias’s gift, it would ensure success. He killed her with the sword, allowing the power to transfer to him and ensure the door into Hel would never be opened.

She explained that with the horn a physical part of her, and as the true wielder of the starsword, Bryce would need to pull double duty if the prophecy were to come true. His sister would create a new rift through which the asteri would be banished. Then, she would need to close it.

At some point in her telling, Ruhn had turned away to sit on the sofa, staring into the middle distance at nothing. Each piece of knowledge seeming to hit him like a punch to the gut. “She wields the sword,” he said in a monotone. “And I am the knife.”

“Blade.” Hypaxia corrected, without thinking.

He faced her, his eyes shining. “You mean sacrifice,” he said. “By Bryce’s hand.”

Tears slipped free from her own eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Yes.” Furiously wiping her face, Hypaxia forced lightness into her voice and said, “But … but I don’t want you to worry. Jesiba wants me to find a loophole. She’s given me full access to her libraries, contacts, anything and everything. And I already have some ideas. Old magic that isn’t well known outside of the witches. And new technologies that might help.”

She began naming some of the possibilities, but he only looked at her, appearing to glaze over more and more with every word. Softly, she asked, “Ruhn? Are you okay?”

*****

Well fuck, he thought, sitting down hard on a couch as his legs finally gave out from under him.

No wonder he was a drama queen. Something in his subconscious must have been preparing him for the day he’d have to … what was it? Let his little sister kill him and steal his power to send a bunch of megalomaniacs into another dimension.

As Hypaxia rattled off potential solutions, Ruhn just stared at her, getting swept away by the notes and chords of her voice.

Gods, he loved her. Loved that she was already fighting to get him out of this. Loved that she was brilliant and brave and beautiful.

“Ruhn?” she asked, the change in tone drawing his attention. “Are you okay?”

“Does Bryce know anything about this?” Jesiba Roga was many things, her cruelty well known. But he knew in his gut that she cared for his sister. Even if she never showed it.

Pax shook her head, watching him carefully. “She and Hunt are under too much surveillance. Even so, Jesiba told me not to tell her. That order doesn’t extend to you. So if you want-”

“No!” he almost shouted. Then, more quietly, “No. She’s not to know. Not until it’s necessary.”

Eyes glossy, she tried to blink back the moisture that was building. “It won’t be. Not if I have any say about it.”

Ruhn leaned in and kissed her. Hard at first, turning more gentle as they drew it out and he brushed away the new tears that began to fall. “I love you. More than anything in this world. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If that means dying to give Bryce my starlight, I’ll do it.”

As if she’d been waiting for him to say that, she opened her mouth to argue but he stopped her with another kiss.

“If there is a loophole, we’ll find it. You’re the smartest person I know. And I’m not half bad either.” Finally, she smiled. “If we combine our forces-”

“And Jesiba’s,” she added.

“And Jesiba’s, we’ll find a way around it.”

“How can you be so sure? How can you be so … happy?”

He kissed her again, pulling away to rest his forehead on hers. “Because you love me. And I love you. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

*****

The next morning, Hypaxia woke curled up along Ruhn’s side. She wasn’t sure if he was awake until he started playing with her hair.

“Mmmm, I like your bed,” she said, stretching her arms and legs as she rolled onto her back.

“I like any bed you’re in, majesty” he replied, rolling too so he came to rest against her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her on top of him, tickling her until she was breathless with laughter.

When she could breathe again, she said, “There’s a prophecy I didn’t tell you about last night.”

Ruhn closed his eyes, gently running his fingers up and down her back. “No. No more prophecies. No more oracles. No more fate and destiny and all of that other shit.”

“It was more of a vision actually,” she said, laughing as he sighed in exaggerated surrender. Pushing herself up on an elbow to stare into his jewel like eyes, she said, “Shortly before she died, my mother had a vision that involved me. It was after she was gone, after the coming war. And it’s got me thinking. She said I would not be alone. She saw me with someone.”

“Who?”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “One who is chosen.”

Ruhn huffed a quiet laugh. Pulling her back down and returning to stroking her back, he said, “If you’re trying to get me to accept that ridiculous title by saying I’ve been chosen by the Queen of the Valbaran Witches…” He paused for effect and then sighed again. “That just might work.”

Resting her cheek on his warm, bare chest, right over his heart, Hypaxia began to hum. It was an ancient song that Ruhn loved, telling a tale of young love that is lost and then rekindled. Her voice was soft at first, building up slowly until the humming turned to singing. She felt more than heard his deep moan of appreciation. And as his delicate fingers tapped out the familiar rhythm on her back, she smiled.

The end.

*****

Thanks for reading! And sorry for the quickish ending. I’ve got a lot going on right now and couldn’t devote the time to extending this into a full blown, super long fic.I may pick this story up again in the future though, and I have other ruhnpax headcanons I’ll eventually post.

tagging - @itach-i (thanks for all the beta reading!), @queen-of-glass @julemmaes

Fanfic masterlist

#crescent city #ruhn danaan #hypaxia enador #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #tristan flynn #declan emmet #tharion ketos #jesiba roga #sarah j maas #house of earth and blood #secrets and confessions #my writing

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