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bloodredmoon42 · 3 years ago

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Pretty Things in an Ugly Underground Chapter 1: Broken Chains

Im starting up fanfic writing because im mentally ill and sad. Heres a Silco fic because ahahhhah seggsy older man

First time posting fics on tumblr bc I usually put them on ao3 so Im also cross posting for the first time

CW: Slave trade mentioned, Trauma

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40432281/chapters/101287404

You shivered in your thin clothes as Finn led you down the hall. Clothes was a generous term to describe the tattered garments covering your form, a short, dirty slip being the only thing preventing the prying eyes of the world from seeing the entirety of your form. Your long, sensitive ears heard the gentle metal that connected your throat to Finn’s hand almost jingle, an odd irony. The melodic noise almost distracted you from the new reality of your situation, almost.

“We’re here,” Finn uttered. He turned to you and leaned over you, your heart racing. “You remember the rules I told you?” You gulped loudly, remembering the second rule, and opened your mouth, but sound refused to come out.

“Good girl,” Finn leaned down to whisper in your ear with a smile “You remembered rule number 2, don’t speak unless indicated. You’re smarter than you look. Now what are the other rules? Speak.”

“Do everything you say, don’t look at Silco, and you can send me back where you got me,” you managed to force out behind a quivering voice.

“Good. We’re here,” Finn said, what little sun that could shine through the smog and windows of the Undercity reflecting off his metallic jaw.

“W-wait!” You blurt out before realizing your mistake and covering your mouth, Finn’s head snapped to you.

“What is it?” He responded, roughly grabbing your long ear and tugging on it, a silent gesture to both remind you of your mistake and remind you not to make it again.

“How will I know who Silco is so I don’t look at him,” you utter, trying not to yelp from the pain of your sensitive ears being yanked.

“You’ll know,” Finn replies, releasing your ear and placing his hand on the large door in front of him. You hear creaks and groans as the hinges strain to hold the weight while the doors swing open. You quickly remember to look down.

“What is *that* Finn?” You heard a powerful voice spit in your direction, Finn was right, you knew, that was Silco.

“Isn’t she captivating?” Finn drawled, hands grabbing your ears again and running his hands up the fur towards the end. “She’s a Vastaya, native to Ionia but brought here for me to play with.” Finn continued. “She’s part bunny, so I’m sure she’s desperate for someone to play with.” Finn slowly reached his hand around your body to grope your breast in front of the room. It surprised you, causing you to flinch.

“Is that so Finn?” The disembodied but powerful voice uttered, “She doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic about the arrangement.

“Well that’s too bad isn’t it Silco?” Finn resumed, squeezing his hand grabbing your skin, subtle rage radiating off of him. “What she wants isn’t of my concern,” The squeezing became painful, and you let out a small squeak. You heard Finn’s jaw creak slightly with the cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Girl… are you happy about this… arrangement?” You heard Silco question, afraid to answer as to avoid angering Finn further. Amidst your silence, the only sound you registered was the gentle clicks of someone wearing expensive shoes walking towards you.

“I’ve already trained her to respond to me,” Finn leered, he pulled on the chain connected to your collar, which forced your neck to drop, “Only me”. The footsteps stopped and you saw the boots of their owner, they looked very well made, well at least they once were. This was sometime who splurged occasionally but used the items until they fell apart. They had money, but not enough to not be smart about it.

“Hm” you heard a gentle sardonic laugh fill your ears. “Look at me, little bunny,” Silco uttered lowly, the pet name set your heart into overdrive, instincts telling you vastly conflicting things. Your mind however, snapped back to Finn’s instructions. He would punish you, and given his treatment of you when he was supposedly happy,, when he was displeased in private, he would be much worse. But this Silco… whoever he was, was more terrifying, given what little information you had, he was dangerous. Your heart wanted to look and your mind agreed that whatever punishment Finn could dish you paled in comparison to what Silco could do if he wanted. So you look.

Your eyes slowly raised, eyes trying to avoid any aspect of the man before you to keep your heart rate in check, when it couldn’t be avoided, you looked into his eyes. What you saw staring back into your eyes was a cold calculating ice blue eye, and fiery blood iris in a coal black sky as the other eye. Without even choosing to, you tried seeing past the eyes before you, taking a peak into the soul behind them, and you saw pain and rage. The eyes then hardened and your small peak was interrupted, he knew what you were doing. In panic and embarrassment you snapped your eyes away.

A small chuckle from this being of calculating intensity reaches your ears, shortly followed by a “Good girl”, when Finn said it earlier you felt nothing, you cringed internally and almost shuddered at the sound and memory of your new fate in the hands of this new owner. But hearing Silco say it was an entirely different experience, you felt proud that this man said you were good. You felt wanted and… different, in a way you couldn’t describe but your instincts could, you were turned on.

“I can tell you want her Silco, unfortunately you can’t have what’s already been taken,” Finn sneered, roughly grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“And I can tell you’re an idiot Finn,” Silco uttered, already tired of his behaviour “I would have thought that it was obvious that we don’t support slavery, sexual or otherwise, in the Underground. I guess we have to make it an official decree for the idiots who don’t understand why we’re trying to separate from Topside.”

“I’ve already paid for her, she’s legally mine,” Finn scoffed, blatantly grabbing your ass and pulling your tail, which forced you to yelp.

“We don’t recognize any legally binding contracts in unsavory markets such as slavery.” Silco coldly spit. “Sevika…” Silco motioned his hand and a tall woman with a mechanical arm started walking towards you and the two men arguing for your status.

“You may want to remove your hand from her, for your own sake.” Silco starts. Finn begins to protest but has to leap out of the way to avoid the large blade suddenly transforming out of the woman’s mechanical arm. You almost bumped into Silco trying to leap away from the danger but he put his arm out to stop you, hand grasping your shoulder. The blade swung down between you and Finn, the sharp blade slicing the metal chain like it was thread.

“You can’t just fucking take my shit Silco!” Finn swore at the man who didn't flinch at the obscenities. This only angered him more and he strode up to you and Silco, intent on getting his hands on you.

“How much did you pay for her?” Silco asked calmly, using his arm to push you behind him. At these words Finn stopped moving and perked his ears up, looking a tad confused and wary at the same time. “I’ll pay you if you resign yourself of this childish power fantasy,” Silco retorted, picking up on his obvious cluelessness.

“Well when you put it like that,” Finn chuckled, crossing his arms, “you have a deal. She ran me about 150 Golden Hexes”

“Good to know that's the price you put on life, Finn, you can’t even haggle with Noxian slavers” Silco uttered, barely flinching at the monstrous amount. “In kind, I’ll pay you what your life is worth to me, you’ll be fairly compensated” Silco motioned towards the tall lady, Sevika you remembered her being called. Sevika walked over and handed Silco a coin purse, Silco fished around for a few moments and tossed a small handful of silver coins to Finn, who let them all fall to the ground unceremoniously.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Finn groaned, “I paid top dollar to get her here, you’re just jealous because you have the hots for her, but she’s mine,”

“What’s her name Finn?” Silco snapped, fed up at the behaviour coming from his associate.

“Bunny,” Finn spit as he took out a lighter and flicked it open, “that’s what I named her.”

“This meeting is over,” Silco turned to walk towards the door, without thinking, you reached your arm out and grabbed at his sleeve. The whole aura around him changed, immediately noticing your mistake you released your grasp almost as fast. “Bring her, Sevika” Silco finally orders before walking towards the door

“Come on,” the low sturdy voice of Sevika uttered towards you, a light push on your shoulder leading you towards the path following Silco. “Where are we taking her?”

Silco’s feet stopped, and he turned to you, eyes meeting again, for just a moment. You thought about pushing through them again for a moment, deciding not to push your luck.

“Someplace safe to talk about her future,” The sharp voice ahead of you responded.

Your form was curled up on the soft, juniper green couch when the door opened and you shot up. You guessed you had fallen asleep after being escorted here by Sevika, you remembered walking through a loud room with lots of people.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” a low voice said, drawing your attention to the door, your gaze found Silco closing the door. He was by himself, you started to stand. “No, please, I’m sure you must be exhausted.” Your eyes followed him as he strode through the room and sat at a large desk. Your eyes wandered to the intricate glass window behind him, pale green glass bathing the room in a verdant light, it reminded you vaguely of the glades back home, but this light was evidently artificial.

“You can continue to rest if you wish,” Silco’s voice had torn you from your thoughts, “I just have paperwork that demands my attention,” You looked back over to him and saw him rifling through papers, “We can discuss your situation when you’re ready.”

A beat passed before you stood up and padded over to the desk, “I’d rather not delay that conversation…” you responded in a quiet voice.

“So you can speak, that’s good.” Silco said without looking up from the paperwork. “What’s your name?”

“I’ve been given so many it’s hard to recall…” you replied sheepishly, hands reaching up to play with your hair, adjusting a strand that bothered your long sensitive ears.

“What name would you like to be called then?” Silco sighed, you could tell it wasn’t out of annoyance, it had just been a long day for him. This was clearly after hours.

You thought about it for a moment. “Y/N”

“Well then Y/N I may not be able to arrange first class accommodations but we will be able to get you back to Ionia soon.”

“W-what?” You lightly exclaim, which caused Silco to look up, which in turn forced you to look down to avoid his gaze, “I mean no disrespect… Sir…” You uttered, struggling to find a proper term to address him by. “But what do you mean send me back to Ionia?” Silco seemed almost surprised at your words.

“Do you not want to go home?” He questioned, leaning back in his chair, you felt his eyes studying you. You look down to avoid his gaze.

“Sir… I don’t have a home to go to, those men… there’s nothing left of my village but smoke and ashes,” you responded, ferociously trying to swallow tears. You sensed no movement from the man in front of you, but you felt his scalding gaze from his fiery eye. “If I go back… maybe the next person who buys me won’t be as kind as you”. You felt the energy around him flicker. You were good at sensing these kinds of things.

“Kind is a strong word, one I do not identify with,” Silco interjected, reaching down into his desk and grabbing a bottle and two glasses.

“You’re the first person in a very long time who has spoken on my behalf. Spoken for my well being,” you replied, watching Silco set the two glasses on the desk and pour an amber into them. “It’s more than I can ask for from a master,”

“That’s another thing I am not, I didn’t buy you to be your master,” Silco slid one glass forward, you finally sat down and picked up the glass to take a sip after seeing him do the same. The drink tasted smoky almost and felt warm in your core. “I compensated an idiot who graciously freed you,”.

“I’m… free?” You uttered out loud but mainly to yourself. It didn’t sound real.

“Yes, you can choose what you’d like to do with your life,” Silco watched your face as you tried to comprehend the news. “If you do not wish to return to Ionia, I can try to assist you within reason to get you situated in the Underground if you wish.”

“Can I work for you?” You almost blurted out, the drink making your head swim in thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?” Silco responded.

“I’d like to stay here if that’s alright…” you repeated, looking up at him. “This is the first time I’ve felt safe in more weeks than I remember, I’m happy to clean and cook or whatever you need. You don’t even have to pay me, just let me stay here please. I just…” the words struggled to come out “please let me stay here with you,”.

“My work is very dangerous Y/N,” Silco objected, “I deal with dangerous people and sell dangerous things, and you’re very… how shall I say… soft”. Your ears shot up and a warm pink blush spread across your face. The drink mixed with his unending molten gaze making your face heat up and instincts awaken. “I didn’t mean to offend,” Silco interjected.

“No, you didn’t!” You insisted, “ Your words just… surprised me. Without a chain around my neck I can handle myself decently, my legs are incredibly strong.”

“Hm,” was all he said in response, you saw both his eyes study your face, then his gaze travelled downward slightly before snapping back up to your face, an act you pretended not to notice. “Very well, you may stay and help around the facility.” Relief washed through your body. “You may sleep tonight here, tomorrow we’ll get you situated. You nod and pad over to the couch and lie back down, still drained from the events of today.

“Sir?” You questioned aloud to the room.

“My name is Silco, you’re welcome to use it.” You heard in response, along with the clink of the glass and the scratching of pen on paper.

“I appreciate this. I hope I can make it up to you Silco” you uttered, the sounds of writing diminishing for a moment.

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that,” you heard Silco lowly reply. You felt the energy from his side of the room shift in a way you felt meant you weren’t supposed to hear that, but your sensitive ears were more than capable. You wanted to try to infer what he meant by that but the drink made all your thoughts go to inappropriate possibilities, so you didn’t infer further.

“Goodnight Silco,”

“Goodnight Y/N”

#silco x reader #silco x y/n #silco #silco fanfic #arcane #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

talltales · 5 years ago

Photo

anonymous request!!

it starts with a notification.

norasdad has shared a playlist with you. click here to listen!

no message attached.

her thumb hovers over the glaringly green button situated at the center of the email, circling as she frowns at the screen and sips on coffee long gone cold. usually such things came with context—i thought you’d like this. that artist you like has a new album out!

something.

“why are you glaring at your phone?” comes a disembodied, muffled voice from her bed, from beneath layers of blankets. heating in the old dorms had always been spotty at best; you had to stand exactly three feet to the left of the bathroom door to feel anything resembling warmth, “your grades already in?”

she huffs, “no, i just turned everything in last night. and is that the kind of faith you have in me?”

a face finally peeks out of the mound atop her bed, all messed hair and bleary eyes. “if you didn’t have me to come and wake you up every morning, you would’ve flunked out for attendance issues in the first week.”

“ass.”

bambam laughs, and the melodious sound is just enough to ease the tension building behind her temples, “so,” he says, and she blinks a time or two before she glances down at the flagged message still sitting open on her screen.

“someone just sent me a playlist, that’s all. i’m overthinking it.”

not that deep.

from the corner of her eye, she catches him pausing; witnesses the look of unguarded comprehension that disappears as quickly as it comes. at first, she thinks it might be something as innocuous as empathy—

then he hides the lower half of his face behind the covers and she catches a glimpse of a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

her eye twitches, “you—come here.“

“me?” he echoes, scrambling backward as she moves toward the bed. his ankle catches in the cocoon of blankets, however, and he topples right off the edge with a heavy thump.

“ow. damn.”

dissatisfied with his escape, she reaches blindly into the mess and hauls him up by the collar, “what are you hiding? what do you know?”

he appears to contemplate what he'll say, taking long enough that she’s halfway through a list of simple but effective ways to get her answers when he finally speaks.

“i know that… playlists are the modern day mixtapes, right? love confessions, like—” bambam gives her a positively shit-eating grin and wiggles out of her grasp, “you should probably open it. maybe someone’s got it bad for you.”

and before she can think—let alone say—much else, he makes for the door and scoops his backpack up on the way out, “see ya!”

the door shuts quietly behind him, and she’s left alone with her own thoughts.

a modern day mixtape, huh.

—

at first, she ignores the message because the thought of opening it makes her stomach do some weird flipping thing that’s more off-putting than exciting.

who would be interested in her like that, anyways?

but eventually, the playlist—and all that it might entail—slips to the back of her mind as she falls headfirst into work at the end of the semester and anxiously waiting for news on the state of her GPA. she’s finishing her second cup of coffee and staring a hole through her phone when she hears a voice speaking beyond the fog, “…alright?”

“what?”

“are you alright?”

the man standing at her side is still and familiar, blocking the onslaught of a sun that is much higher in the sky than she remembered it being a moment ago, “jaebeom?”

“that’s my name,” he smiles, with a short gesture to the chair opposite her. it takes an embarrassingly long moment to register what he means to ask, but she nods and manages to wrangle the piles of papers cluttering the table into a haphazard stack.

“i’m sorry, of course. make yourself comfortable.”

just a second later, he eyes the mass of documents she’s cramming into her bag and winces. “did i interrupt you? i can—” already, he’s making to leave and instinct has her reaching to grasp his hand.

she only catches the tips of his fingers, but it’s enough to stop him short.

“the only thing you interrupted was my latest existential crisis. no worries.”

jaebeom makes a sound that could be a sigh or a chuckle—maybe a little of both—before he slumps back into the seat and shakes his head, “that sounds even more concerning.”

she shrugs and gives up on making the folders fit back into her bag. instead, she moves to drain the last dregs of her coffee from her cup, “it’ll pass. then i’ll be back to my everyday anxiety.”

if he’s put off by the topic, jaebeom doesn’t show it. instead, he leans forward and plants his chin in his palm—regarding her with something that can only be considered as open curiosity, “so what do you do? to deal with that?”

this time, any cognitive delay—she thinks—is because it’s an odd question.

“what do you mean?”

unfazed, he taps his fingers against his cheek and she makes absent-minded note of the distinct structure of his face. im jaebeom is unreasonably attractive.

and why is she thinking like that? stop. stop.

“i’m asking how you cope. do you listen to music?”

the reason for his curiosity clicks and she hums, amused, “are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

her question's effect is immediate. his hands raise in a gesture of surrender, playful and earnest all at once, “i swear i’m not. i just noticed that you usually have headphones on. really, it was surprising that you didn’t today.”

oh.

had he tried to talk to her before? the thought is enough to summon a wave of guilt that she isn’t prepared for, and she finds herself bowing her head; fingers curling around her empty cup, “i’m sorry.“

“what for?”

her lips part to offer an answer, though some logical part of her mind warns her against it—overthinking, again—but finds everything skidding to a stop with a soft touch to her chin, nudging it up until her focus is trained on the man opposite her.

he speaks gently, but firmly, “whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

though he seems to catch himself and pulls his hand back; settles it palm down on the old cafe table, “sorry.”

the warmth of his touch lingers.

“i think,” she takes a moment to gather her thoughts; to test the words out on her tongue before she says them, “that we both should stop apologizing, for like, five minutes.”

jaebeom laughs, and the sound is sharp; unguarded and music to her ears.

—

“since when do you wear perfume?”

she stares as bambam sniffs the air through the mirror, chin lifting just enough that she momentarily considers throttling him where he stands, “since when does it matter?”

“you’re answering a question with a question.”

she pinches the bridge of her nose, prays for patience. surely something or someone up there is listening—“tell me why you’re here again.”

“because you came to understand... years ago that you can’t live without me. i’m basically the angel on your shoulder.” as he makes this declaration, bambam loops his arm around her and squeezes hard. “or the devil. whatever. so, who is it?”

“who is who?” for the moment, she leaves him be—raising her hand to pluck a few more stray hairs from her brows, “you’re going to have to be more specific. i know more than one person.”

and there it is. the smug smile that says bambam knows more than he’s telling. he toys with the ends of her hair, looping a few strands around his fingertip, “you can play this game with me, but i hope you know i’ll win.”

as much as she wants to brush his words off another instance of him being full of it, the quiet certainty that he possesses is enough to stop her.

“if you say so.”

“mmm,” gamely, he pats her shoulder before he turns to exit, “tell jaebeom i said hi.”

“get out!”

—

it isn’t like that.

the extent of her time spent with him is strolling through the aisles of a forgotten record shop downtown. for all of his dedication to the art of psychology, jaebeom is equally steadfast in his love for obscure music. thumbing through old vinyls is his pastime, and consequently what she finds herself doing on the odd thursday afternoon.

in place of his usual, proper slacks and button-up, jaebeom wanders the store in jeans and tank-top—carefully keeping in line with the oscillating fan on the wall as if it’s a shield from the descending summer heat. to his credit, the old building doesn’t appear to have working a/c and it may as well be.

she takes a moment to make sure her sundress is covering the essentials when the fan blows her way and continues flipping through the stacks, “what are we looking for again?”

when she turns back, he’s watching her with a bemused smile.

“nothing specific, but you’ll know.”

following my heart, am i?

jaebeom chuckles, and she realizes the thought has slipped out. loudly. embarrassed, she makes a show of inspecting the nearest vinyl until the heat in her cheeks fades.

“that’s the idea,” he says, but the confirmation nearly escapes her notice when she actually looks at the record in her hands.

“hey, i think i found something,” the lettering is small, but the focus of the cover art is the picture itself; a man in the forefront with a cigarette propped between his lips, and another with a match, reaching up from an endless crowd to light it, “ann arbor blues festival—”

she squints; pauses when she feels a hand settle on the curve of her spine.

“1969.” jaebeom murmurs, tracing the edge of the sleeve with a charming sort of reverence. his thumb catches on the hem of her cardigan before raising to wrap around her shoulder in a half-hug, “yeah, you found something.”

when he smiles, she recognizes the wild fluttering of her heart for what it is.

“great.”

—

“so what do you do with all these records?” she asks between taking sips of flavored, crushed ice—sickly sweet piña colada—and watching him sort through their finds for the day. without any discernible system, he sorts them into three neat stacks and makes notes in a worn paper pad.

“i make playlists,” jaebeom says without a glance, flipping to the next page before he stills mid-sentence and gives her a look, “after a month, now you ask?”

deadpanning, she drains an eighth of the enormous cup before she responds.

“i’m not a curious person.”

his expression turns thoughtful, but before she asks, jaebeom nods and returns to his task. the stillness that follows is more disconcerting than she’s accustomed to—with him, at least—and she finds herself speaking merely to break it, “you should send me one.”

it isn’t the right thing to say, if the clenching of his jaw is any indication. his fingers splay over the page, and his lips move silently as he reads back the information that is a foreign language to anyone but him, “sure.”

he doesn’t look at her again, and she leaves with the distinct and terrible feeling that she’s screwed something up.

—

“so how’s it going with our favorite psych major?”

“do you ever just say hi?” she peers at her wholly unwelcome guest over the lid of her laptop, more than a little testy, “how are you? et cetera.”

the picture of cool, calm, and unaffected, bambam takes a seat at the edge of the bed; brow raised and a hand combing through his bleached, silvery hair, “you look lovely today. the weather’s nice. are we ready to get to why you look like someone kicked your puppy?”

as satisfying as it might be to deny him this, she releases a heavy sigh and closes the old device. the empty word document goes black and with it, any remaining desire she had to get something—anything—done, “i think i fucked up.”

his head tilts, lips curving softly.

“you’re going to have to be specific. you fuck up a lot.”

she exhales; the laugh that escapes is short-lived, but it doesn’t feel hollow, “thanks for that.”

there’s a hand in her hair, and where she expects bambam to make a mess of it, he carefully guides each stray strand behind her ears before moving to her shoulders, “anytime.”

her stomach is tying itself in knots by time she finds the words. they trip over her tongue as she tries to assemble them into something that will make sense to him—to her.

“i like jaebeom. i really like him, and for a while i thought that maybe...“ preemptively, she swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and finds them—thankfully—dry, “he felt the same way, but now i’m not so sure. i think—“

the hand sliding up and down her arm goes strangely still.

“wait,” bambam blinks at her, and for the first time, he actually looks baffled.

she stares back, “what?”

“you… didn’t open the playlist, did you?”

when she shakes her head, he mirrors the gesture with a small, pitying smile that she feels settle in her gut like lead.

“oh my god.”

—

playlists are the modern day mixtapes, right? love confessions.

jaebeom is surprisingly evasive when he wants to be. he is conspicuously absent from his usual haunts; searches of the library, the cafe, and the record shop turn up little more than the vague maybe i saw him?

it’s thursday, though, and maybe he’ll make an appearance for his afternoon vinyl-hunt.

hopefully, he isn’t compiling a new playlist for someone else.

if she wasn’t panicking at the thought of never seeing im jaebeom again, she’d be pissed that he had quickly turned her life into some bad 90s romcom.

and she’s a half-step from throwing her hands up and crawling back into the shelter of her many, many blankets when she spots him making his way through the slowly thinning lunch crowd.

again, he’s dressed for the summer heat; a sight now as familiar as the friendly, disarming student she’d known for years, in the strange sort of way that you could know someone through mere exposure.

it was a bit like watching the same train pass your house every day and knowing the graffiti on each car by heart.

her feet carry her to the front door and she meets him there—a little out of breath, but grasping the handle before he reaches it. the thundering in her ears is distracting, but no more so than the brush of his fingertips against the back of her hand before he quickly retracts it—

“i need to talk to you,” she says to his reflection in the glass. it frowns, lips pressing into a thin line, and she swallows her dread and turns to face him fully, “we can have this conversation here, if you want. but i don’t think you do.”

the latter part comes out as a whisper, as if the battery fueling her courage is all used up.

“lead the way,” jaebeom takes a step back, offering an uncertain smile—either nervous or pained, it’s hard to tell—that she holds in mind as she crosses the street and heads toward the park.

on a weekday, there is no one on the swings. the most frequent visitors are retirees speed-walking down the trails and the occasional dog walker.

at the first shaded bench they reach, she drops onto the seat and glances up at her unmoving companion. the intensity of his attention gives her pause; makes her want to curl into herself until she manages to get what she needs to say out.

like ripping off a bandaid, maybe?

“i found the playlist you sent me.”

jaebeom tenses, in the nearly imperceptible way that says he’s bracing himself. maybe to hear some unpleasant truth, maybe to walk away. but it doesn’t really matter which one it is, when both options are so unpleasant.

she reaches up and takes hold of his hands, squeezing until she feels like he gets it. jaebeom doesn’t reciprocate, but he does move closer and that’s enough.

for now.

“hear me out, please.”

swallowing, she tilts her head back and focuses on him; cutting a figure against the sun and shade—colored in shades of green reflected from the trees overhead. he is still unreasonably beautiful.

“i didn’t ignore it because i disliked you, or anything. honestly, i didn’t know what to make of it because who does that—“ jaebeom sucks in a breath, and belatedly she shuts her mouth with a sharp click that she feels in her jaw, “that’s not what i meant to say. i—stay still.”

when she summons enough courage to look at his face, his expression is purely one of embarrassment, though for himself or for how badly she’s botching this remains to be seen.

“i like you. in fact, i’m probably in love with you and before you respond, i don’t think you can say anything about how i’m doing this when you confessed through a spotify playlist.”

when jaebeom pulls his hands out of her grip, she prepares herself for any one of the scenarios she’d imagined while trying to hunt him down; he says nothing. leaves. he cusses her out and then leaves.

the scenario that she doesn’t dare to imagine is the one that presents itself; in the slide of his fingertips over her cheek, a careful touch that makes her alarmingly delicate pulse flutter around like a bird in a cage.

in the silence that follows, she basks in the contact; tilts her head to lean into his palm until his lips meet the corner of her mouth. once, then twice.

“you liked the playlist.” jaebeom whispers, and she feels him smile; hears the heady sound he makes that barely passes for a laugh, “i made it, but you liked it.”

his giddiness is echoed in her, she thinks, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him down to kiss him fully and breathe his air because now—right now

hers isn’t good enough.

“shut up, norasdad.”

—I KNOW THE IDEA ISN'T NEW TO FALL IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ON FIRST VIEW BUT I DON'T CARE I THINK I'LL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU I'LL PUT ON MY SUNDAY BEST YOU PICK OUT YOUR FAVOURITE DRESS I'LL TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE NEW I'LL BE OLD-FASHIONED FOR YOU

#member + prompt #request #jaebeom fanfic #got7 fanfic

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dinfeanoriel · 5 years ago

Text

Hypothermia

Well, well, well, look who’s back? And with a little ficlet for you wonderful people! Enjoy!

~~~~~

Cold.

Ice cold.

Too cold.

Wild’s cornflower blues snapped open the instant his body registered the sheer and sudden drop in temperature only to find his vision completely shrouded by whiteness.

Snow, his mind helpfully supplied.

Ice particles shimmered and sparkled, snow compacted tightly around him. Blinding him.

He was buried..!

Wild’s mouth opened with a gasp, inhaling what little air he could get. He carefully shifted his arms, willing himself to remain calm and think of a way out of the mess he’d somehow gotten himself into.

Where in Hylia’s name was he? Had there been an avalanche? Last he remembered, he wasn’t exploring the mountains or any snowy regions.Then how did he end up here?

He started clawing his way upwards, his heart beating steadily and blood pumping. The freezing temp pierced through his skin, settling into his very bones and stealing him of what warmth his body sought desperately to maintain.

Hadn’t he been in a desert? He recalled being somewhere sandy. A lot of sand.

An island? There might have been an ocean too.

Taking stock of himself, Wild figured he couldn’t have been under the snow for more than a handful of minutes, maybe a little longer. He couldn’t wait to escape it either. He already longed to throw on his warmest gear and snow boots and devour the hottest meal he could whip up given his limited resources.

“-ey!”

Wild paused momentarily, bemusement crossing his face at the muffled voice he swore he heard calling from somewhere above.

“-ild!”

That was his name. Who else was there? Were they trapped to?

A burst of determination and strength flared to life within him at the thought, pushing him to move faster and break through the surface to help whoever was there.

“Can...ear...e?”

He’d love to respond, give them an answer, but as of this moment, he was a little incapacitated. It took only a few seconds for him to finally dig himself to freedom. He burst out, hands slapping palm-down on the mountain of snow and eyes darting about in search of his nameless companion. It was a useless endeavour. A thick and foreboding fog covered the area he found himself in, obscuring his vision and hiding everything within a three foot radius from view.

“Wild!” Relief coated the disembodied voice and Wild snapped his head to the right. He narrowed his eyes against the fog, piercing through until he caught sight of something...blue? “T-That you? You alright?”

Recognition flashed in Wild’s gaze and he scrambled the rest of the way out of the snow holding him hostage,

“C-Can you hear m-me?” The voice tried again, a tinge of worry seeping into the otherwise shuddering tone, “Sure h-hope that was y-you!”

“Warrior?” He called, trudging heavily towards where the scarf lay. He grunted when his foot was swallowed by some loose snow, causing him to trip and almost face-plant into the cold ground.

This...This was the reason why Wild held a profound hatred for snow.

“Wild!”

“Where are you?”

“H-How should I know?”

Wild rolled his eyes at the snarky reply. Warrior must be fine if he’s already sassing him.

“Why aren’t you moving?” It was a good question. Warrior’s voice floated his way, carried by the bitter breeze, never once moving closer or further away.

“C-Can’t,” Warrior responded, “Stuck.”

“Stuck?” Wild echoed, kneeling down and curling his fingers into the fabric of the scarf he’d found. He tugged at it, surprised when it moved with hardly any resistance. He was even more surprised to find it wasn’t attached to Warrior’s person. “I found your scarf,”

“T-Thank Hylia! Blew a-away! Thought it l-lost.”

Wild frowned at the short, fragmented, sentences. Warrior’s voice wavered and shook from what Wild interpreted as the cold and his concern for the Knight rose.

“Now to find you,” Wild muttered to himself, tucking the scarf safely into his pack. Thank goodness he’d kept it on him. He hastily rifled through it and flung on his warmest shirt, switching his regular boots for those fit for snow, “Keep talking!” He told Warrior, “I can pinpoint your location easier if you do!”

“I-I’ll t-try,” Warrior answered, and Wild strained his ears to hear him.

“How long were you calling to me?”

“D-dunno,” Warrior trailed off and Wild’s heart skipped a beat. He might be uninjured but he’d only know for sure once he found him. Wild had no recollection of what had taken place before waking so how was he to know whether or not they’d been attacked?

“Warrior!” Wild barked sharply.

“A w-while?”

“Was that a question or a statement?” Wild quipped with a faint smile, echoing the words Warrior often said to him.

“Both,” Warrior declared with forced conviction.

Wild blinked in confusion, “Whatever you say, Warrior,” He took a left, inching forward with caution. For all he knew, they could be on a mountain. Better safe than sorry. Wild had far too much experience in falling off cliffs and ledges. He cared little in repeating it. “Say, how are you stuck?”

“Buried. S-snow.” Warrior said, “H-hate snow.”

“From what I understand, you don’t have much experience with the cold or snowy regions,” Wild commented, urging Warrior to carry on their conversation. The sooner he found Warrior, the better.

“D-don’t h-have any w-where I’m from...” Warrior partially explained. “N-not m-meant for the c-cold.”

His stuttering was worsening, Wild observed with a troubled frown. How long had they been trapped?

“A-already s-soaked,” Warrior added as an afterthought and Wild’s brow creased.

“You’re already soaked?” He asked, hinting for clarification.

“W-was.” Warrior corrected in a quiet whisper. Wild almost didn’t hear him. If it weren’t for the breeze, he most likely wouldn’t have.

“You were already soaked.” The Hero nodded to himself, bafflement rising. “How so?”

“G-got dunked.”

Say what?

Wild shook his head in frustration, cursing his fragile mind. Why couldn’t it keep a tight grasp on important information or memories and never relinquish them?

He heaved a sigh, resigning himself to piecing together what little he knew. He did recall being near an ocean. Perhaps they were swimming and then got transported?

That sounded right... There was a ping of familiarity when Wild thought of it.

“Okay, okay,” He muttered to himself, forcing his way through the snow, “We can work with this.”

It was then he realized Warrior hadn’t spoken for a few seconds.

“Warrior?”

“S-st-still h-here...”

Hylia’s bane but he sounded awful. A small trace of fear festered in Wild’s heart, growing gradually the longer it took for him to find his wayward companion.

“Good, good. Can you hear me coming?”

“Y-yeah.”

So he was closer. Wild peered ahead and slumped with relief when he spotted green in the distance.

“I see you!” He made his way forward, running as best he could atop the snow. A golden head lifted and Wild saw a flash of blue when their gazes locked onto one another. Worry replaced Wild’s previous fear. Warrior looked pale. Almost blue. His teeth were chattering and his body trembled violently from the unforgiving cold. He was half buried under a heavy mound of snow and Wild discovered his companion had been caught in a small avalanche.

“H-hey, W-Wild,” Warrior weakly greeted when said Hero crashed to his knees beside him, surveying the snow and the trapped position the Knight was in.

Flakes fluttered past them, carried by the chilling wind. Some melted immediately when they came into contact with Wild’s skin, others clung fast.

“You look awful, Warrior,” Wild huffed, jabbing at Warrior’s typically polished looks. He was practically disheveled now.

Warrior managed a small laugh in response, head dropping forwards almost limply, tiredly.

“I c’n on-only i-im-imagine.”

Wild pursed his lips tightly together.

Exhaustion. Fatigue. Warrior’s energy and strength were fading fast.

He could only hope the hypothermia was only just now settling in. If worse came to worse, Wild prayed Warrior caught only a mild case of it. The only comfort he had was Warrior’s constant shivering and not-so-shallow breathing.

“Stay with me,” Wild urged, gripping Warrior’s ice cold hand in his own. He almost snapped his arm back from the sheer frostiness of the Knight’s skin.

“S’warm,” Warrior slurred, clutching his hand as tightly as he could. The little strength he could muster served to feed Wild’s increasing concern. His friend’s health was compromised and it would only keep declining the longer they lingered.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Wild promised, determination blazing in his eyes. “Then we can-” He cut off with a curse. They couldn’t teleport. Even if they were in the Hebra Mountains, as he suspected, Wild knew the sudden shock of warmth would prove detrimental to Warrior. Especially when he took into account the state he was already in. “We can find a cave,” He settled with a swallow. He hoped there was one nearby.

Warrior hummed, cobalt blues drifting shut.

“Hey,” Wild tapped against his cheek. Warrior’s eyes fluttered halfway open. “Don’t fall asleep on me, alright?” He tried to keep his tone light, but Wild was inwardly afraid for Warrior’s life.

Warrior’s body certainly didn’t tolerate the cold. It didn’t help that he wasn’t wearing any clothes capable of combating the freezing temps. He was dressed in his Hero’s outfit. An outfit Wild realized was once drenched with water that had long-since frozen and now clung to Warrior’s glacial skin.

This went from bad to worse in two seconds and Wild wasn’t appreciative of it in the least.

Carefully shifting about, slipping from Warrior’s feeble hold, Wild quickly analyzed the miniature avalanche the Knight had gotten caught up in. He dove into work shoveling the Knight out, talking to him and drawing him into conversation. He said whatever came to mind, telling stories, sharing secrets, and coaxing Warrior into responding or describing some of his own experiences.

It didn’t take long until Warrior was finally free. To Wild, it felt to be an eternity. The minutes that passed were excruciating and Wild could only hope Warrior’s condition didn’t suffer because of them.

“Still with me?” Wild asked, nudging the Knight.

A groan of discomfort was his only response.

Well, that wasn’t at all reassuring. Wild bit his lip and turned Warrior onto his back. His worry returned full-force when he caught sight of the blue tinge the Knight’s lips had taken on. His complexion resembled that of a ghost’s and his shivering was dying down.

Alarmed, Wild quickly but carefully maneuvered the fatigued Warrior into a sitting position. The Knight, barely clinging to conscious, slumped heavily against him, head lolling. Wild sucked in a sharp breath.

“Hey, you can’t fall asleep on me, you hear?” He sternly ordered, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

Warrior blearily cracked his eyes open, head pillowed on Wild’s shoulder.

“S’hard...”

His speech was horribly butchered. Wild swallowed hard.

Stay with me, Warrior, he inwardly pleaded.

“We’re going to find a cave, alright?” He told Warrior, striving to keep him awake and alert. “You’re going to be fine.”

Was he?

Wild quashed the unwelcome thought. Where was Wind’s optimism when he needed it? Actually, where was everyone?

Wild refrained from cursing the Goddess. Why was the group separated at a time like this? If they’d been together, Warrior would have been freed earlier.

Or others might have been trapped alongside him...

Wild scowled, the corners of his lips curling back and teeth bared in displeasure.

“A-alr-right?” Warrior’s raspy voice drew Wild from his thoughts back to the Knight. He looked to find Warrior watching him with a hint of concern.

Wild gave him a tight smile.

“Remind me which one of us is suffering hypothermia?”

“N-not m-me,” Warrior quipped dryly in return. A wave of gratitude flooded Wild. His companion might not be fully aware, but he was still with him. He understood what was happening. His comprehension wasn’t lacking too severely, reassuring Wild that they still had time before his condition became critical.

Warrior’s distraction helped Wild to focus and the Hero stood, drawing Warrior up with him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Warrior managed a small, shaky, nod of agreement. He was more than ready to go.

Wild wrapped a strong arm around the weak Knight’s waist, drawing Warrior’s own across his shoulders and clasping his hand for comfort. It anchored him, kept him fastened in the present.

Starting forward, Wild bit down on his lip when Warrior stumbled, knees wobbling and unstable.

“S’cold...”

“I know,” Wild calmly agreed, quelling his worry. If Warrior leaned further against him, unconsciously vying for the warmth emanating from WIld, he said nothing of it. “It’s probably safe if I give you a warmer shirt...maybe some boots too. I just have to make sure you don’t warm up too fast.”

Thank goodness his Zelda was a researcher. She was well-read and knowledgeable in many fields. Not to mention that Wild had some experience but he digressed.

Risking a break, Wild slowly lowered Warrior to take a seat on the snow and earnestly dug through his pack in search of a shirt. He found one and yanked it out. It was a struggle for Warrior to slip it on, but they managed. Wild then switched Warrior’s adventure boots with his spare snow boots. That would help to maintain the little warmth he still had. They also swapped his trousers for dry ones.

“You good?” Wild inquired once they got moving again.

“Yeah,” Warrior drowsily replied. His coordination was still off but after a little while had passed, Wild was relieved to see some semblance of color returning to his face.

A mild case, Wild sought to convince himself. A mild case, nothing more.

But there was no telling how long Warrior had lied there completely vulnerable to the elements. The Hebra Mountains were harsh and unforgiving. They did not hesitate to claim the lives of those who dared to venture into them. Or, in Wild and Warrior’s case, those unfortunate to be dropped into them.

Together, they ploughed through the knee-deep snow, ignoring the flakes striking their faces and soaking into their clothing. The fog prevented them from seeing far but they valiantly pressed on. So long as they didn’t wander too close to any cliffs, Wild deemed they were safe.

When Warrior’s head would droop, Wild would shake him back to awareness. It wasn’t rough or startling, but enough for Warrior to snap back to attention.

“No sleeping while walking, Warrior.” Wild said lightly, hiding his worry behind teasing words, “We’ve got to find a cave, and then you can rest.”

“Sleepwalking,” Warrior murmured, cobalt blues owlishly blinking. He stumbled a couple of times. Wild instinctively caught him, cornflower blues full of muted alarm and regret that he couldn’t do more for Warrior than he’d already done.

“Say what?”

“The w-word you’re l-looking for...” Warrior answered with a small stutter. It relieved Wild and he huffed out a small laugh. “S’sleepwalking.”

“Oh, guess you’re right.” Wild agreed, if only to keep him talking. It wasn’t surprising that Warrior’s mind might be a little muddled and confused. The younger teen frowned, determination flaring to life. He needed to get Warrior out of the cold and he would. If only they could find a cave...

Warrior’s eyes fluttered again, the struggle to keep them open evident for Wild to see. His lashes would stick together longer only to be forced apart seconds later. He was striving to stay awake for Wild’s sake.

Wild exhaled deeply, a tendril of fear coiling loosely around his heart.

“You’re alright, Warrior, you’re alright.” He whispered with conviction. Whether it was meant to comfort himself or Warrior, he wasn’t sure. Most likely both. He only wanted to find a cave and build a fire to help his companion.

Thank Hylia Wild was adept to surviving. He’d had to learn early on what to do if he wanted to live. His world was certainly unrelenting and dangerous but beautiful nonetheless.

His hand was squeezed suddenly and Wild perked his head up to find Warrior wearing a minuscule smile.

“W-we’re gonna be fine, W-Wild,” The Knight assured him and Wild’s worry seemed to melt away at the trust and belief shining in those tired eyes, “We w-won’t be taken out by a l-little snow.”

“A little snow?” Wild parroted with a minute grin. He cocked an eyebrow, “I’d hate to see what your version of ‘a lot of snow’ would be.”

Perhaps this was why Warrior was Captain, Wild mused to himself. He remained calm and collected even during the worst of times. He was steadfast and immovable in his beliefs. Firm and resilient. Unafraid and courageous in the face of uncertainty and danger.

The Captain always thought ahead and worked endlessly to ensure their inventory was stocked, weapons were polished and maintained, morale never sunk, and fussed over the well-being of his companions. It was slight, barely noticeable, but Wild saw it. He heard it in Warrior’s voice when he would say something along the lines of, “Take a moment to rest, Sky. Don’t need you collapsing on us now, do we?” Or- “Settle down, Wild! You can’t go climbing every tree to fetch whatever fruit’s caught your eye! Not to mention your leg is broken and you aren’t doing yourself any favors with your constant moving! You are out of commission until Hyrule deems otherwise!”

To which Warrior proceeded to quietly order Hyrule not to release his new patient until Wild was absolutely fine.

Wild saw it in how Warrior took Wind under his wing and supervised the young Sailor with a keen eye. He never let Wind out of his sight and taught him all that he knew.

He saw it in the way Warrior would stand alongside a silent Twilight come sundown, never uttering a single word and doing nothing- a feat one would consider impossible for the restless Knight.

He saw it in the teasing and barbed jabs the Knight would fire at Legend, purposefully provoking him and keeping the snarky Hero fired up and fueled for another adventure.

He saw it in the way Warrior would budget their expenses to include Four’s purchases of books to read when they would settle in for the night. Sometimes, when Four had nothing to occupy his mind, the Knight would lend Four some books he’d bought supposedly for himself (Wild knew they were personally purchased by Warrior for these specific occasions).

He saw it when Warrior would surprise Sky with a new journal, claiming it’d caught his eye in the marketplace and reminded him of the soft-spoken, mild, Hero.

He saw it in Warrior’s efforts to boost the timid Hyrule’s confidence. The extraordinary care he put in not embarrassing him in any way or putting him on the spot.

He saw it in the way Warrior would stealthily hoard Time’s armor and weapons, studiously polishing them until they shone brighter than the sun. Every nook, cranny, and crevice was spotless, not one centimeter left untouched. When asked why Warrior would frequently undertake such a painstaking and time-consuming task, Warrior would scoff and lecture them on the importance of preventing rust and ensuring the durability and up-keeping of weapons.

No one called him out on his bluff. Then again, Wild figured no one really knew the true motive behind Warrior’s actions and deeds. The why.

Wild looked to his companion. The Knight deserved recognition for all he did. They were little things but they meant so much to the Heroes.

The Hero subconsciously tightened his grip on Warrior.

Perhaps he could return Warrior’s kindness.

“Say, Warrior,”

A quiet hum answered him.

“Once we get out of here and you’re well again, how about a duel?”

This caught Warrior’s attention.

“Duel?” He echoed, interest piqued. There was even a flicker of excitement in his eyes. Wild nodded,

“Why not? I’m curious about the techniques you know.” A thought struck Wild and he snapped his fingers, “Oh! How about a trade-off? I teach you some tricks I know and you teach me a few of your own?”

Warrior mulled it over, his mind working sluggishly.

“Deal.”

The wind howled all around them, their hair lashing at their cheeks and eyes. Wild valiantly ignored it while Warrior barely acknowledged it.

Wild’s gaze darting ahead in the hopes that a cave would magically appear before them, but when had Fate ever been so kind?

Never.

The longer they stayed out, the more danger Warrior was in. Yes, he was warmer now thanks to Wild’s clothes, but it was only a matter of time before he was freezing again. Not to mention he was already suffering a mild case and needed to be indoors out of the snowstorm.

Stupid Hebra Mountains.

And while he’s at it, curse Fate.

“Wild..?”

“Yeah?” The younger teen glanced at his friend, noting how drawn Warrior’s features had become. He pursed his lips tightly together, stubbornly squashing his rising concern.

“Keep talking...Helps me focus...”

So Wild did. He told Warrior about the trouble he would get into while on his adventure. How his wolf companion would more-often-than-not scold him in his own unique way when Wild would do something the animal deemed stupid. He shared some of the precious memories he reclaimed and spoke fondly of the Champions. He recited the legends and myths he’d learned and described a handful of people he’d met.

“From what I can remember- oh look!” Relief coated Wild’s tone when he happened to glance up and see a dark crevice in the rock face across from them, “A cave!”

He could have celebrated.

Lugging most of Warrior’s weight, Wild dragged them both to the tiny cave they’d miraculously found.

“We’re safe now, Warrior,” Wild found himself saying, excitement stirring as he helped Warrior down a ways away from the entrance. The Knight all but slumped against the wall, uncaring of the cold biting into his back, “I can start a fire and you will be warm in no time!” The cheer in his voice was genuine and pure. Warrior found himself grinning upon catching it.

He wearily watched Wild hastily drop his pack and when he blinked, found Wild dumping an armful of wood onto the cave floor.

Warrior did a double-take. Where in Hylia’s name did he find wood? Or did it materialize out of thin air?

The younger Hero bustled about busily, setting to work on lighting a fire. It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally set off a spark and vigorously fanned it until it became a full-fledged flame. The small fire spread until it engulfed the wood whole and blazed to life.

The warmth from it caressed Warrior’s skin and his eyes slid shut in satisfaction. He could definitely say he was not a fan of the cold or snow.

He listened to Wild moving and shifting things and only when he felt a heavy hand settle on his shoulder did he reopen his eyes. Without a word, Wild drew Warrior’s arm across his shoulders and lifted him from the ground to lead him to the makeshift bedding spread near the fire.

Warrior blinked. When had Wild made that?

“It isn’t much,” Wild began, apologetic, “But it should help.”

Warrior slipped under the blankets and reveled in the warmth they emitted. He didn’t hesitate to slowly bury himself underneath them, the solid weight more than simply comforting to him.

Goodness but moving drained him of his remaining energy. Still, Warrior sluggishly managed to tug a pile of blankets above his shoulders and turned to face the fire.

Wild hovered nearby, making sure he was comfortable.

“Get some sleep, Warrior. You’ll be better by tomorrow.” He promised.

Warrior hummed, clumsily shaking an arm free and waving his hand in the air. Wild caught it in confusion. Warrior cracked an eye open, gave him a small smile, and squeezed his hand with a faint murmur of thanks.

Wild returned the gesture with a smile of his own before urging the Knight to rest.

Warrior’s consciousness declined quickly afterwards, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He barely felt his hand being tucked back under the blanket but he did register the solid weight against his back and the hand on his shoulder before allowing sleep to claim him.

~~~~

A few hours passed and the storm outside was finally dying down. Wild remained watchful, regulating Warrior’s condition and periodically checking his temperature. The Knight was no longer shivering, something Wild counted as a blessing. His temperature was slowly climbing back to normal and Wild knew he could sleep now that Warrior was recovering from his bout of hypothermia. He couldn’t bring himself to, however.

He feared that Warrior would worsen if he wasn’t keeping an eye on him. This, Wild knew, was irrational. He was clearly recovering, but it didn’t stop him from staying up and caring for the Knight. Until Warrior was one hundred percent back to full health would Wild allow himself to relax.

He heaved a soundless sigh, drawing one knee to his chest and curling and arm around it. He rested his chin in his hand and peered out of the entrance of the cave. He hoped the others were safe and sound and that he and Warrior would reunite with them soon.

He found he dearly missed their company.

Wind’s enthusiastic ramblings, Sky’s carefree smile, Legend’s clever jabs, Hyrule’s quiet observations, Time’s stalwart presence, Twilight’s agreeable company, and Four’s musings.

It was so silent without them. So dull and dreary.

He looked forward to being with them again. To being a part of the colorful and individualistic group.

His thoughts were cut short by the unusual sound of something snuffling nearby. His ears twitched when they detected something panting and Wild’s head snapped up.

“Wolfie?!”

There was a pause followed by a relieved bark.

A dark form appeared in the entrance, blocking out the sunlight seeping in and Wild smiled widely upon recognizing Twilight in wolf form.

Wolfie bounded inside, changing back into a familiar Ordonian once he came close enough.

“Wild!” Twilight’s dark eyes shone considerably when they fell on him. His gaze shifted to where Warrior lay, still bundled up and barely visible. His relief vanished. “What happened?”

He moved to stand by Wild’s right, crouching down and looking between the two.

“Hypothermia,” Was all Wild gave. Twilight needed no further explanation. He could hear all Wild said packed within the single word. The Ordonian turned to Warrior with an echo of concern etched into his otherwise neutral features.

“Is he alright?”

Wild smothered a smile when Twilight immediately tugged his fur pelt from his shoulders and tucked it around Warrior’s shoulders.

“He’s recovering,” Wild replied, shaking his head when Twilight began to fuss over Warrior’s well-being. His ancestor prodded at the fire, checked Warrior’s temperature, ensured he was comfortable, then moved to look Wild over.

Wild resigned himself to his fate. He knew better than to protest.

While Twilight wasn’t quite on par with Sky- Hylia knows the Skyloftian excelled in mothering them when they fell ill or were injured- he came close.

“The others aren’t too far away,” Twilight absentmindedly told him, “We happened to be close to one another when we were transported. You and Warrior were the only two unaccounted for.”

Huh. Interesting.

“Warrior was caught in an avalanche. When I found him, he was halfway buried.” Wild shuddered at the memory. What would have happened if Warrior had been completely overtaken by the avalanche? Wild might never have known and walked away, condemning Warrior to suffocate to death.

A gentle swat was delivered to Wild’s head and the Hero yelped in indignation and startlement. He rubbed the back of his head, directing a mild glare to an unrepentant Twilight.

“Stop that line of thinking, Wild. You know it doesn’t help.” His predecessor lightly reproached.

Wild heaved a sigh.

“I know...but I can’t help but wonder at the possibilities.”

“I get it, I do,” Twilight murmured with understanding, eyes dim. He settled a hand on Wild’s shoulder, “But they didn’t happen and that’s what you need to focus on.”

Wild frowned with a shake of his head, “I could have left him. Without knowing he was there, I could have gone about my way and we wouldn’t ever know what became of him. We would have been left to speculate, but we would never have known for sure what might have happened.”

Silence fell as both heroes looked to the dozing Warrior. A reminder that he was physically there with them.

“Without him...” Wild began softly, “It wouldn’t be the same. I...I don’t want to imagine what it would be like for Warrior not to be there.” Just the thought disturbed him. He knew first-hand how precious moments were. Time was fleeting and the future uncertain, something he’d learned early on and wrangled with constantly. Who knew what tomorrow could bring?

That was why it was so important to cherish the time one was given and to treasure the little things.

“Well, we won’t have to because he’s here and I reckon by the morrow, he’ll be up and at ‘em again.”

Twilight’s confident words and reassurance settled Wild’s nerves and troubled mind. He believed Twilight and smiled, grateful to have been given the chance to meet him.

“Who’ll what?” A groggy voice interrupted them. Wild whipped his head round to see Warrior rolling onto his back with a groan, eyes blearily blinking open to stare at him. “Why do I feel so awful?”

“You’re awake!” Wild brightened, completely dismissing Warrior’s question.

“Barely,” Warrior muttered, casting an arm over his eyes, “Where’re we? What happened?”

Wild sat back on his heels, frowning deeply. “What do you remember?”

There was a brief quiet as Warrior wracked his mind for any recollection of what happened last. All he could conjure were blurred and muddled memories of stumbling through a snowstorm and something about an avalanche. He faintly recalled a voice talking to him, keeping him alert and a steady presence that never once left his side.

“It doesn’t matter,” Twilight answered for Warrior when the silence prolonged, “What does is that he is awake and most likely needs to eat.”

Warrior lifted his arm, peering at Twilight in confusion.

“When did you get here?”

Twilight flashed him a grin. One Wild recognized. It was sharp and mischievous and a little daunting to see. In any other circumstance, it would be terrifying, but Wild knew it for what it was.

“I’ve been here.”

“What?” Warrior’s brow furrowed and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he tried to remember whether or not Twilight had actually been with himself and Wild. “That can’t be right...”

Wild rolled his eyes, casting a reproachful look at Twilight.

“Make yourself useful and fetch the others, Twi,” Wild ordered, jabbing a finger towards the mouth of the cave.

Twilight sputtered at the skillfully crafted jab inserted in his descendant’s words. He quickly recovered, narrowing his gaze on the snickering Wild.

Huffing to himself, Twilight trudged out of the cave into the dawn and Wild set to work on putting together a wholesome meal for Warrior as the Knight drew himself into a sitting position and hassled him for answers on what had happened.

When the others arrived, it was to find Warrior gratefully cradling a warm bowl of soup in his hands, a blanket loosely wrapped around his form as he listened attentively to Wild’s report on what had transpired the night before.

With the Heroes gathered together and basking in one another’s presence, Wild decidedly felt whole again. He settled between Warrior and Twilight, listening to the quiet conversations and murmurings of his companions.

Sky was sketching away in his journal, Legend was reclined against the cave wall simply listening, Four was sitting cross-legged beside a chattering Wind with a small smile, Hyrule was reorganizing his pack, and Time was subtly keeping his eye trained on Warrior.

This was how the Heroes often spent their evenings.

Wild didn’t think he’d ever felt more at home than he did now. Nudging Warrior’s side, Wild leaned close and whispered a reminder to him,

“Don’t forget you promised me a duel.”

The Knight grinned, flicking his spoon in Wild’s direction, “Now that I remember.”

Wild laughed with another roll of his eyes, “Of course you do.”

Wild was glad he’d been with Warrior when they were suddenly transported. He didn’t want to think of what might have happened. The what-ifs were banished from his mind, his sole focus being that Warrior was here in the flesh with no plans of leaving them soon.

Wild would ensure he didn’t. And when next Warrior took stock of inventory, he would find bottles upon bottles of cold-resistant potions. Wild figured it’d be fine.

#Linked Universe #linkeduniverse #Legend of Zelda #Wild #Warrior #Hypothermia #dinwrites

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Text

@elfysparkles88

#listen it's a universal problem#I love my mans Scott#everyone is always bagging on him WHY#Scott Summers#X-Men

Its because Scott Summers is inevitably compared and contrasted with those around him, and he has the great misfortune of running in the same circles as an all-star line up of like....just the absolutely most Ridiculous People to Ever Ridick.

We’re talking about a guy whose dad was abducted by aliens and from there went on to decide, welp, guess I gotta become a space pirate now, jaunty earring and all, no, shhh, shh, no, there are no alternatives, I gotta, no, I said no - SHUT IT, I SAID I GOTTA BE A SPACE PIRATE NOW ITS THE ONLY WAY. Oh btw, meet my fianceé. She’s an alien mercenary who is a little like a skunk but don’t call her that to her face or she’ll shoot you in yours. How’s that for swoonworthy, am I right, son?

We’re talking about a guy whose own son was a literal sixty year old Grumpy Old Man overburdened with world-weariness, wildly unnecessary shoulderpads and arthritic joints when Scott was barely hitting his third decade. With said son now randomly being a moody sixteen year old again, with a pet sentient sword he talks lovingly to, because apparently Nathan Summer’s take on teenage rebellion was to act out by being all LOL Fuck Time Travel Paradoxes and then rebelliously zooming around the space/time continuum while blasting a soundtrack of MCR probably, until he finally got a bead on his older self and shot himself in the face while being like “its not that I’m angry with you, I’m just disappointed” and look this is the part where your eyes are gonna wanna just glaze over so your brain can have a break, shhh, shh, don’t ask questions, just let it be, it happened, its a thing.

We’re talking about a guy whose brother rode a merry-go-round of “Am I a good guy this week or am I a bad guy because Reasons or sometimes Brainwashing or sometimes I Don’t Even Fucking Know, Look Don’t @ Me Bro, I Just Fucking Work Here, I’m Not In The Loop” for most of his twenties until dying in a fiery explosion only to inexplicably return years later as a coma patient who finally woke up one day and said “Whoa, just got back from tripping around the multiverse and boy do I have stories cuz apparently I’m the Nexus of All Realities, so hah, SUCK IT, big brother, and yes that is TOO a thing, shut up, LET ME HAVE THIS. Oh and also btw don’t spend a lot on your wedding gift for me and Lorna because I’m gonna leave her at the altar once I realize that I’m actually more in love with the random nurse lady who changed my bed pans while I was in a coma having a romantic rendezvouz with her in Paris in my brain courtesy of her psychic eight-year old kid trying to play matchmaker for her cuz like, she doesn’t date much apparently but its whatever, this is FINE, I have no objections. Ugh why are you looking at me like that Scott, no, I don’t need to “talk” with someone about everything I’ve ‘been through,’ ugh I’m HAPPY you asshole, god, why don’t you ever want me to just be HAPPY ugh you just have to control EVERYTHING with your over-bearing BS like “I am concerned your decision-making processes might be affected by all the people tampering with your decision-making processes over the years” like umm DID I ASK? No? I didn’t think so? YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD, SCOTT, UGH THAT DOES IT, IM RUNNING AWAY TO BE A SUPERVILLAIN AGAIN AND THIS TIME ITS TOTALLY YOUR FAULT, YOU’LL BE SORRY WHEN I CRY HAVOK AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR THIS TIME FOR SURE, AND OMG FOR THE LAST TIME I KNOOOOOOW THAT’S NOT HOW ITS SPELLED, ITS ABOUT THE AESTHETIC SCOTT, ITS CALLED HAVING A SENSE OF STYLE, UGH, LET ME LIIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

We’re talking about a guy whose other little brother randomly showed up and started killing people one day being like “hahaha surprise, bet you all forgot about me, PS, I’m REALLY FUCKING MAD AT YOU ALL FOR FORGETTING ABOUT ME” because the world’s most powerful telepath made everyone forget about him and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day they all had once and this is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, this is normal. As is the way his newly discovered slash remembered slash resurrected slash recently returned from spending the last decade fucking around as a disembodied energy ghost on a rock up in Earth’s orbit little brother then decided the Earth just wasn’t big enough for the both of them, the both of them in this case meaning both him, singular, and his Angst, as a wholly separate and towering entity in its own right. So instead he fucked off to space and decided to conquer a vast alien empire and spend the next several years being their god-emperor or whatever until he got bored with that. And also he kinda sorta killed their dad for a bit but whatever, its fine, he got better, and then he also kinda sorta died for a bit himself but whatever, its fine, he got better, and there was that whole interstellar war between himself and the Inhumans but whatever that wasn’t even his FAULT, Scott, THEY STARTED IT, god, do you ever stop JUDGING ME AND MY LIFE CHOICES and PS I’m still mad at you for killing Xavier, you fucking asshole, not because you did it but because like, you KNOW I wanted to do it, I had a whole fucking villain monologue moment about it and everything, you were literally there, UGH WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE NICE THINGS?!?! YOU ARE THE ENEMY OF FUN AND JOY AND HEY MAYBE YOU WERE THE REAL VILLAIN ALL ALONG, DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT? HUH? MR. I’M THE BOSS, WAIT WHO’S THE BOSS? OH YEAH STILL ME, SCOTT, I’M THE BOSS, YOU GOTTA STOP BEING A SPACE EMPEROR GABE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BE THE BOSS, ONLY I AM ALLOWED TO BE THE BOSS BECAUSE I’M THE BOSS AND I SAID SO AND YOU GOTTA DO WHAT I SAY OR I’LL TELL DAD.”

And that’s not even getting into how we’re also talking about a guy who basically ended up divorcing his first wife and suing for sole custody on the grounds of “Well, your Honor, she tried to sacrifice our son on a literal demonic altar in order to summon Hell to Earth to destroy everything just to get back at me after I left her. Yes, your Honor, I understand that is in fact Asshole Behavior, but there were extenuating circumtances, you see, the woman I left her for was my first love before her who I thought was dead. And also, she was literally my wife before my wife was. No, I don’t mean I was married before Maddie, I mean Jean was kinda pretty much already Maddie before Maddie was Maddie. Its this whole clone thing. Look, I’m just saying it was a complicated situation and I know I have my part to play in it, but I still stand by my conviction that trying to sell out our entire planet and species to the legions of Hell while using the innocent blood of our ten month old as the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory was still a little over the top and not really the right way to handle it either. Also, I contend that I can provide a better home environment at the moment than someone who is insisting on being addressed as The Goblin Queen because what even is that, honestly, Your Honor, and also, she also brainwashed my brother into trying to kill me on her behalf, which to be fair does happen about every other month anyway, but still, like. Dick move, you know?”

And we’re also talking about a guy whose second wife who was kinda sorta his first wife but only in that It Ain’t Bigamy If Its A Clone Thing way....like, I mean. Its kinda hard NOT to come across as the bland one in the relationship when your second wife occasionally moonlights as the AirBnb of choice for a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction who is pretty infamous for the ragers she hosts every time she pops into town for a visit, all smiles and (literal) sunbeams (of scorching lethality) and “Lol hey hot stuff, remember me?” As if someone who ate an alien civilization’s sun the last time she hit a Mood is like....really in danger of ever being “New phone, who dis?”ed. But that is neither here nor there, much like the sentients of Alpha Centauri Bumfuckville after she went all Goodnight Sun, Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Solar System on their corner of the galactic neighborhood, because.....tbh I don’t think she ever actually said “why” there. Its one of those things where if you don’t already KNOW why a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction has decided its nighty-night time for this particular zipcode.....like.....that’s not really something you just ASK, y’know? Its....tacky, probably. Also, low on the self-preservation instincts, probably.

Plus we’re talking about a guy whose second marriage to Yet Another Woman It Probably Should Have Registered As A Bad Idea To PIss Off Like This ended in like....so, okay, this was a bit more His Bad than even Round One was, courtesy of a “Groundbreaking. Revolutionary. Show-stopping” reinterpretation of what was up until this point te much more ambiguous and metaphorically named “Mental Affair” concept. Though it must be said, Scotty always has skewed a bit more towards the literal minded in his personal approach to things, so, y’know. That tracks. But regardless, the pattern remains consistent here, as once again, its not always easy to register on peoples’ radar as anything other than the Plus One when your newest paramour prides herself on being both the entire planning committee AND star attraction of Victoria’s Secret (assuming that said Secret is Secret Aims at World Domination) Presents: A Renaissance Faire. But in an evil and also kinky way. Except now with sixty percent less evil on account of how Emma’s reformed these days, but not a hundred percent less evil because she’s not like, REFORMED reformed, cuz that would be boring, eww, could you imagine, no, you couldn’t, because she won’t let you and she can do that, she’s that good at telepathy and that bad at boundaries. Still the same amount of kinky as before though, but like. That’s just about Strong Branding. After all, at the end of the day Emma Frost is above all else, a good businesswoman.

But yes, she is also a big fan of the Aesthetic, with that aesthetic being Her Whims On Steroids because like they say, go big or go home, and Emma Frost does not believe in going home when she can simply acquire your home instead. Hate the game, not the player. She didn’t make the rules, she just came to win. Point being, its hard to follow up an act like Jean-Who-Is-Sometimes-Phoenix-And-Sometimes-Dark-Phoenix-And-Oh-Hell-She-Cant-Even-Keep-Track-So-How-Could-Anyone-Else-Really, but say what you will about Emma’s wardrobe, she’s more concerned with clothing herself in unapologetic take no prisoners ambition, and as such, her being the follow-up to Scott’s epic romance with his childhood sweetheart turned literal cosmic embodiment of fire and passion, like.....this was never a big checkmark in the con side of a pro and con list for Emma. It was more like oh, yes, hello there, Challenge Absolutely Fucking Accepted.

Which, y’know, all the points to House Frost for showing spine and boy howdy, that’s a spine alright.....but at the same time, going head to head with someone who is classified as a galactic threat when people are deliberately low-balling her, like, for no other reason than you’re bored and your manicure appointment isn’t for another couple hours.....like that’s the kind of thing where it has to be pointed out that there were possibly alternative options worth considering somewhere in between ‘having no spine’ and ‘spiting cosmic entity who can kill you with her brain by stealing her man and saying come at me bro because like....my spine, let me show you it.”

But again, just to reiterate the premise here.....our thesis here today is that Scott Summers Gets a Bad Rap For Being Bland or Boring or Not Standing Out, But In Reality The Issue Is Just That All The People He Knows Are Truly Ridiculous People.

In other words, Scott Summers is no more the Everyman of the X-Men than any of his Truly Ridiculous Friends and Family.

Because an actual everyman would have bounced out of that madhouse way the fuck back in Chapter One: In Which Things Just Got Ridiculous.

Cut to Scott Summers, in contrast: *looks around, purses lips, weighs options* Nah. This is fine.

See also:

His daughter, who didn’t so much arrive after the traditional nine months of waiting and preparing for a bundle of bouncing baby joy but instead just like...plopped back into the past as a full grown woman hailing from a dystopian future she was hellbent on preventing by any means necessary, even if that means had Scott frantically shouting RACHEL NO as she screamed RACHEL YES and sprinted straight at someone like Selene (a villain who has survived 17,000 years of pissing people off and making enemies of actual, literal gods) while thinking “oh yeah, I got this.”

(To be fair, she probably DID have it, or would have, if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment of all moments to have his once-centennial contemplation of “Wait, what if....murder is...NOT good?” Never underestimate the daughter of a cosmic goddess.)

Or see also also:

Scott’s original classmates, including Doctor Hank “I’m not an over-archiever, I’m just stress-eating because its lunchtime and I’ve only revolutionized two whole fields of scientific study so far today,” McCoy, Warren “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, hate me because I’m a billionaire, wait no, I’m just kidding don’t hate me at all hahaha I’m too sexy” Worthington III, and Bobby “I may look cute and unassuming and like my only priority in life is video games but sike, I too am a potentially cosmic level immortal being of nigh-unlimited power or at least I will be whenever I get around to tapping that potential like I’m currently tapping xy up down A + BBA like a boss, now shhh, don’t interrupt me while I’m kicking ass at Mario Kart I said I’ll GET TO THAT LATER, ugh, JEEZ, my priorities are FINE, Scott, like get off my back already, you’re not even my real dad” Drake.

In conclusion:

Scott Summers is valid, and there may be legions drinking his Hatorade, but make no mistake, its not that he’s Less Than, its that every single person in his social circle is just that damn Extra.

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paintingwithdarkness · 5 years ago

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Roydick + “you forgot to remove your snarky sticky note comments in this textbook and since i got kicked out of the library for laughing too loudly, im going to reply to each and every one” Thank you darlin' 👾

Lmao thx for the ask @dbakeiro! I’ve never written for Roydick before, so this should be new. Time to dig out my old stack of books from high school English 😂. I was a sarcastic bitch back then, so I should have some pretty good comments written in the margins I can use for this. I know it says ‘textbook’ but I’m gonna go with The Great Gatsby, because I completely defiled my copy with highlighters and sloppy cursive in the margins 😂. Hopefully my sense of humor will resonate with you.

Dick sighed heavily as he tossed the blue-covered book onto the table and slumped down in the wooden chair he’d just pulled out for himself. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. He did not want to do this. English sucked. At least math made sense to him. Metaphors, and hyperboles and idioms were just plain confusing. That was more Jason’s thing. There was a reason he always switched homework with his brother when they got home. Dick was the math guy. He did all of Jason’s algebra in exchange for Jay doing his English assignments. The only problem this time was that Jason had been caught cheating on one of his math tests, since he didn’t know any of the material. So while Jason was stuck in algebra tutoring, Dick had been forced to venture to the library to rent and read a copy of The Great Gatsby so he could complete his book report.

Overall, the book didn’t look too daunting. 180 pages. Dick could read that in a few hours. The only problem was the fact that he didn’t want to. Trying to comprehend the narrative while also searching for metaphor examples, foreshdowing, and vocabulary words meant that he would have to read each sentence at least twice so that he could complete all of the sections on his assignment. That meant actually getting through the book would take him twice as long. So not cool.

Reluctantly, he reached out and pulled the book closer. If he was being honest, the cover was actually a little creepy. Disembodied eyes and lips floated in a sea of blue. Below them was what looked like a city, bursting with lights. What was the point of the face? Was that supposed to be Gatsby? If so, Dick thought the dude was pretty ugly. And why would anyone want to write a book about an ugly guy?

He flipped the novel open. The first few pages gave the typical publication information and dedications. He skipped past those. When he got to the first page of the actual story, he paused. There was a green sticky note stuck to the margin. On it were a few scribbled sentences in print that looked like a kindergartner had written it. The letters were a mashup of capitals and lowercase, uneven in size and spacing. Dick gave it a quick once over. Maybe he wouldn’t have to read this book after all. If someone had already read it and done all the work for him by leaving their notes behind, all Dick would have to do was copy what they had already written. He had gotten lucky!

When he flipped to the second page, there was a sentence highlighted in orange and another sticky note. The sentence of the book read: “Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on.” The response on the sticky note was: “Yeah, I don’t care either.”

Dick stifled a chuckle. So the last person who had checked this book out had decided to leave sarcastic commentary behind. Even if it wasn’t going to help him with his assignment, maybe Dick could get a little enjoyment out of this book after all.

He skimmed the next few pages before finding another sticky note. A few paragraphs had been highlighted; descriptions of a new character named Tom. After reading the highlighted bits, Dick read the note: “This Tom guy sounds like a rich, white asshole.”

A smile cracked the raven-haired student’s lips. After reading the description, Dick had to say he agreed with the note. Having his thoughts already written out by someone who agreed with him was ironically hilarious. Dick had barely started reading this book, and he didn’t know the person who had left these notes behind, but he had already made up his mind that he liked whoever it was.

On page 7 was another sticky written in response to a line of dialogue: “‘Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final, just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.”’ In the scrawled handwriting: “Ah, another case of fragile masculinity. Too bad male enhancement surgery wasn’t invented until the 50’s.”

Dick couldn’t contain the snort of a laugh that escaped him this time. Whoever had written these notes was one of the most sarcastic people Dick had ever met... or read from? in this case, anyway. Regardless, it was hilarious.

Unfortunately, his little outburst earned him a nasty look from the librarian. Dick shrunk a little in his seat. He would have to try to mask his reactions a little better.

He read a few pages more, filling in the description portions of his report as new characters were introduced. So far there was Nick, Daisy, and Tom. He wondered when he was going to get to the part with Gatsby. That was the guy the book was named after, so when the hell was this guy going to show up?

The next sticky note was placed next to a description of a female character named Jordan. A single sentence was highlighted: “I enjoyed looking at her.” The book was written in first person, from the point of view of this Nick character. The sarcastic sticky note response? “Yeah, what guy wouldn’t?”

Dick rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a particularly funny response, but the fact that the writer of the notes had chosen to comment on it said something about them.

It wasn’t until Dick got to the second chapter that he found another note. A paragraph at the bottom of the page had been highlighted, and the name Doctor J.T. Eckleburg had been circled. The sticky note said: “Ah. So this is the creepy fucker on the cover.”

A loud, “HA!” emerged from between Dick’s lips. It earned him a harsh shushing from the librarian. She was looking at him as if he were the most despicable human being she had ever met. Dick sunk lower in his chair. “Sorry,” he mouthed back at her. The librarian held up a single finger, and then pointed at the doors. One more chance, and then he had to leave. Guess it was three strikes and you’re out with this lady.

Dick tried his best to keep quiet as he kept reading. Occasional commentary from the smartass note-writer appeared every couple pages, mostly tame enough that Dick could get through it with a silent huff of laughter or a stifled giggle. Among his favorites were:

“I have been drunk just twice in my life.” “What a damn shame.”

“Catherine was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face.” “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

“Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily. ‘They’re such beautiful shirts,’ she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. ‘It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such- such beautiful shirts before.’” “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The one that made Dick lose it however, was a note in response to a few highlighted lines of dialogue: “She got up and went over to Gatsby and pulled his face down, kissing him on the mouth. ‘You know I love you,’ she murmured. ‘You forget there’s a lady present,’ said Jordan. Daisy looked around doubtfully. ‘You kiss Nick too.’” The note-taker had written: “Just start an orgy, why don’t you, Daisy?”

Dick burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. Amongst the many sticky notes written and stuck in the middle portion of the book were snarky comments about Daisy’s many lovers, Tom, Gatsby, and her fantasies about her own cousin, Nick. The orgy comment was the final thing that pushed Dick over the edge though.

He was in the middle of trying to calm himself back down when the librarian made an appearance at his side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, young man,” she said, sternly. “This is a library. Books are supposed to be educational; not funny.”

Dick nearly snorted at the librarian’s words, because he knew for a fact that she was wrong- plenty of books were written for the sole purpose of entertainment- but he wasn’t going to argue. He packed up his things, slipping the book into his backpack, before getting up and leaving the library. He could finish reading at home. At least there he could laugh without judgement from the old hag.

During the drive home, a brilliant idea bloomed to life in Dick’s head. All of the sticky note comments had been addressed in such a way that they were directly speaking to the characters they were about, almost like they were continuing or starting a conversation. Why then, couldn’t Dick help carry on that conversation? Why not add to the sarcastic commentary? Dick was pretty witty himself, and had already thought of a few responses to the comments the note-taker had left behind.

When he got home, Dick sprinted up to his room without so much as a hello to any of his siblings or father. He had thought that forcing himself to read this book would be torture at first, but now he was actually excited to continue, if only so he could leave his own mark on the book.

The first comment he responded to was one that said: “Well, that would be the global warming.” The line in the actual book was: “‘I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year. It seems that pretty soon the earth’s going to fall into the sun- or wait a minute- it’s just the opposite- the sun’s getting colder every year.’”

Dick pulled the sticky note out of the book and flipped it over, writing his response on the back in large, loopy cursive: “I thought global warming was fake news?” Then he stuck the note back in the place he found it with a smile.

As he neared the end of the book the notes started dwindling in number. Dick pulled out a sticky note written in response to the line: “Nowadays people begin sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.” Sarcastic Note-Taker had written: “Oh, the horrors!” Dick’s response: “At least he didn’t go after the gays, too. That makes him only a piece of shit instead of the whole pile.”

The last note wasn’t written in response to a particular quote, but the book as a whole. It was formatted as though the writer was just jotting down some final thoughts. Everything was bulletpointed.

Overall rating: 6/10

Had some entertaining parts, not too difficult to read, however:

Tom was a racist asshole

Daisy was a confused, manipulative bitch

Jordan was just plain full of herself

Gatsby was a liar

(Shame he died tho; R.I.P.)

Nick was the only decent character in this book

And honestly, wtf was the point of the creepy-ass face on the cover?

The 20’s sound lame. So much for “roaring” 20’s. These losers were living in the snoring 20’s.

Educational, I guess. Would not read again.

Dick chuckled. He actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. Instead, he figured he would leave his own note.

He scrambled around inside his desk, searching for the pad of sticky notes he knew he possessed. Like the note-taker, Dick tended to leave his thoughts on little post-its in his textbooks, though he was always certain to remove them before returning his books to the library. He didn’t know if the person who had checked this book out last had simply forgotten to remove their snarky comments, or if they had left them behind on purpose. Either way, Dick was glad because they had made this otherwise boring book actually entertaining to read.

Eventually, Dick victoriously held up a half-used pad of pink post-it notes. He scribbled down his own review of the book, and then tore the note off the top of the stack, sticking it into the back cover of The Great Gatsby, next to the green note left by the last renter.

Feeling satisfied, Dick slumped back in his desk chair. He had actually gotten through the whole book. Now all he had to do was finish his stupid book report. He’d filled out all of the major sections, and all he had left were the minute details.

Title: The Great Gatsby. Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald. Copyright:

Damn. Dick would have to go back to all of those pages he’d skipped at the beginning. With a sigh, he reopened the book, noticing something taped to the inside of the front cover he hadn’t before. It was a record of everyone who had checked out the book. Apparently the last person to check it out was a ‘Roy Harper’. The rental date was today’s date, exactly a year ago. Dick was a sophomore reading this book. That meant this ‘Roy Harper’ had to be a junior. Maybe he still had the same English teacher? It was worth a shot. Maybe Dick could actually meet the sarcastic note-taker in person. What a hilarious scene that would be.

With his mind made up on the matter, Dick copied his own name onto the record, that way, this ‘Roy Harper’ would be able to find him, too.

Roy groaned as he slumped down at his desk. English. His last class of the day. If he could just get through this last hour, then he would be free to go home. Just a measly 60 minutes. He could do this.

He rested his head against his shoulders, leaning back dangerously in his chair, precariously balanced on its two back legs. The other students around him were in various states of attentiveness. Some were diligently taking notes as the teacher droned through her powerpoint, while others resembled Roy, only hearing every other word, thoughts in a completely different place altogether.

When the bell rang, Roy nearly let out a relieved cheer. Now he could go home and (not) do his homework. Leaping up from his chair, Roy quickly shoved his English binder and pen back into his bag, before racing to the door of the classroom. Before his hand could grip the knob however, the teacher was standing in front of him.

“Mr. Harper. One of my sophomores said you lent him your copy of The Great Gatsby, and he asked me to return it to you.” She held a vaguely familiar blue-covered book out to him.

Raising a brow in confusion, Roy took it. Disembodied eyes and a pair of lips stared back at him. Well, that was creepy as fuck. But at least it cleared up the initial confusion.

“Uh, Ms. Lance, I think you’re mistaken. This is a library book-” By the time Roy looked back up from the cover, the teacher was already back at her desk. He really didn’t feel like having to explain it to her.

He shoved the book into his backpack. Now he would have to find the stupid sophomore who had done this. Honestly, was the kid really so lazy that he couldn’t return it to the library himself? Obviously, they had seen his name in the front cover and had decided to pawn the novel off on him. Whatever. That was a problem for future him to deal with. Right now, all he wanted to do was go home and take a fat nap.

When Roy woke up, for some reason, his mind immediately went to the book. Go figure. Now that the judgemental floating eyes of J.T. Eckleburg had reentered his life, he wasn’t going to be able to forget about The Great Gatsby until he found that damn sophomore who had decided to pull one over on him.

Roy growled as he threw off his bed covers and stomped to his desk where he had haphazardly tossed his backpack before his nap.

He dug out the book and flipped it open to the front cover. A neon pink sticky note flared against the crisp white of the page, stuck just above the name list of those who had checked out the book. Roy glared at it before reluctantly pulling it out of the book to read.

“Hi Roy, my name is Dick. I’m the sophomore who told Ms. Lance to give this book back to you. I know it’s not your book, since I checked it out from the library, but I do just want to set the record straight:” Roy’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. Did the note end here? He flipped it over. “I 100% blame you for getting kicked out, btw. Your notes are too damn funny. And since I did get kicked out, I decided to respond to all of them.”

Roy blinked back at the note for a moment. Who the hell did this Dick think he was?

He set the note aside and flipped the page. On page one, a familiar green sticky note was stuck to the margin. Roy could vaguely remember writing it. It had been over a year ago. He had completely forgotten to remove the notes before he’d returned the book, and now some stupid sophomore was mocking him for it.

Roy quickly flipped through the book. Several of his green post its were still stuck to the pages, but he didn’t see any more of the pink ones. So much for this sophomore supposedly responding to them.

Roy thought for a minute. Dick had used the back of his own post it to continue his message. Had he...?

Roy flipped the book open to a random page and pulled his old green note out. Sure enough, there was a message written on the back in that same loopy cursive Roy had seen on the pink sticky note.

Roy’s original comment said: “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

The response on the back said: “More like he was competing with Oscar Wilde than Wordsworth.”

Roy snorted. So the kid had a sense of humor after all. Maybe it was worth looking to see what else he had written.

Roy’s next note said: “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The sophomore had written: “Maybe they’re Chanel?”

Roy snorted. So this Dick guy was into fashion, huh? Interesting. Then again, now that he was thinking about it, Roy had looked up the date male enhancement surgery was invented, just so he could prove a point in one of the notes he had written last year. Ironic how the research he had done hadn’t benefitted him in any way besides the satisfaction of getting to write that witty burn.

The last note Roy bothered looking at was the one written in response to his orgy comment: “No one said anything about sex. Eager for some action, are we? You skipped over bases two and three.”

One of Roy’s red eyebrows inched upwards. He didn’t know whether to feel amused or insulted. This note hadn’t just been written in response to one of his own; it had been directly addressed to him. It was like this stupid sophomore was trying to call him out.

Very well, then. The spotlight was on Roy now. Dick had set the stage, and it was time for Roy to deliver the dramatic soliloquy his audience was waiting for. Well... in this case, another snarkily written note to a snot-nosed sophomore- but same difference.

Roy dug around in his desk, searching for his sticky notes. He didn’t want to use green this time, because it would just blend in with all of his others. He wanted Dick to find his new note. Roy needed to put this kid in his place.

Eventually, he slammed a pad of neon yellow post its down on the desk in front of him. After dragging a pencil out of the cup sitting next to his desktop, he began scribbling his message.

Dick couldn’t help feeling a little giddy when he saw the book sitting on his desk as he walked into English the next day.

“Mr. Grayson, Roy informed me that you needed to borrow this from him again. In the future, I ask that you two stop using me as a middle man to deliver it. You’re an adult. I’m sure you’ll find a way of getting it back to him on your own once you’re finished with it.” Ms. Lance cocked a hand on her hip and raised an expectant blonde eyebrow at him.

Dick chuckled. “Of course, Ms. Lance. Thank you.”

Once the rest of the class filed into the room, Ms. Lance began her lecture for the day, and Dick busied himself with subtly scanning through the book for any signs Roy had left behind for him.

Like he had done, there was only one note that stood out; this time a bright yellow. It read: Who do you think you are, pawning this book back off on me? I did my job and returned it to the fucking library when I was done. I’m not your pack mule. Besides, that unnessesary call out on page 116? Like you even know what third base is.”

Dick scoffed. He ripped the yellow sticky out of the book and flipped it over. “You don’t know whether I do or don’t. Besides, that ‘call out’ is how you interpreted it. I just merely made a suggestion :).”

Roy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he walked into Ms. Lance’s classroom. Sitting up by the whiteboard, on proud display was that damned book again. That cocky little bastard...

Roy quickly flicked his sapphire eyes around the room to make sure no one was watching before he darted up to the whiteboard and snatched the cursed object. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mr. Harper, I believe I explicitly asked Dick not to use me as the middle man in your interactions with him. ‘Accidentally’ leaving this book in my classroom still counts.” The teacher leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

Roy swallowed. “Sorry, Ms. Lance. Won’t happen again.” He quickly scurried to his desk, not wanting to offend the woman any further. She was, after all, the one in control of his grade, and he could not afford to flunk.

Grinding his teeth in annoyance, Roy slammed the book open and located the new note, written on the back of his own yellow one. He dug a pen out of his backpack and scribbled a response.

When he was finished, Roy deflated. How the fuck was he going to get this book back to this annoying Grayson kid? He couldn’t leave it in the classroom, and he had no idea what the kid even looked like. All he had was a name...

“DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE. DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.”

Dick couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that spread across his cheeks as his name blared from the speakers posted in the hallways. Of course the office would choose a passing period, when everyone was in the hallways and could see him. Now the entire student body would think he had gotten into some kind of trouble. Students only got called to the front office for a few reasons.

He tried to hide his face as best as he could as he walked towards the office. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t done anything wrong, so there wasn’t any reason for the principle to be involved. Maybe he had won an award? He was one of the top students in his class, so it was possible.

The secretary was waiting for him when he entered the building.

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick nodded his head.

“A friend dropped this off for you. Said you forgot it at home and would need it for English today.”

As soon as he saw the cover, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Ohhh. This Roy guy was good.

Still feeling the tingle of embarrassment in his cheeks, Dick grabbed the book with a whispered, “Thank you,” before dashing back out of the office.

Once he got to his next class (not English), Dick took some time to think things over. He wasn’t going to play dirty like Roy had, but he had to leave the book somewhere Roy, and only Roy would notice. From what little information Dick did have about Mr. Harper, he knew that the junior had English after him, because the book had been waiting for him in Ms. Lance’s classroom that first day he had used her as a middle man to deliver it to Roy. That meant Dick could leave it behind somewhere close to the English classroom after his own class period, and Roy would find it the same day.

He nearly tripped over the damned thing as he entered the classroom. Sitting on the floor, just outside the English room was a shoe box with his name written on the lid. By now, Roy would recognize that loopy cursive anywhere.

Growling in the back of his throat, he picked up the box and opened the lid. Lo and behold, it was that fucking book.

“Really, dude? The front office? Cheap move, asshole. At first, I thought it would be a good idea to use the book to communicate with you, but honestly, it’s just getting stupid. And now that I know you play dirty, I don’t want to do this anymore. Meet me in person, outside the library today after school.”

Roy couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. So Dick wanted to meet, huh? It was the type of move Roy would expect from a sore loser. They had had a game going on using the book, and now it was all coming to an end. He hadn’t expected that the kid would get so embarrassed from his little front office stunt. Whatever. If the kid wanted to meet, who was Roy to deny him his request? Besides, he had to admit, he was a little curious himself.

Dick glanced down at his watch nervously. He was standing outside the library, ten minutes since school had let out. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He’d wanted to meet Roy, once and for all, just to see who it was he’d been corresponding with. After all of the notes back and forth, Dick had to admit that he thought he and Roy were very like-minded. He’d like to get to know the junior a little better, that is, if Roy was willing. They could make good friends. But it would be a moot point if he didn’t show.

Five more minutes, and then Dick would call it quits and go home. Fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Roy to make up his mind about whether he would be accepting the olive branch Dick had extended, so to speak.

When his timer hit zero, the raven-haired boy shoved his hands into his pockets with a sigh. Guess he wouldn’t be meeting the smartass note-taker after all.

Dick turned, and was about to take a step away from the building when a shock of red appeared out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he turned back around, and looked up, catching eyes with perhaps one of the most handsome boys he had ever seen in his life.

The other boy’s brows were furrowed, and there was a frown set across a pair of narrow peach lips. Blue sapphires, reminiscent of his own eyes gleamed back at him. There was a green snapback covering the majority of the boy’s hair, but the few strands of his bangs that were poking through the hole at the front where he’d turned the hat around, had been enough to catch Dick’s attention.

“You Dick?” The voice was a little rough around the edges, but warm and masculine-sounding. When the boy crossed his arms over his broad chest, Dick couldn’t help noticing the way the muscles of his biceps bulged from where they were poking out of the beige muscle shirt covering his torso.

It took the sophomore more than just a second to tear his gaze away from the taller boy’s arms, and refocus it on his face. Blinking, he gave a barely perceptible nod.

Before he knew it, the other boy had taken a step forward and was shoving something against his chest.

“Good. Now get your ass in there and return this piece of shit, already.” The redhead pointed at the entrance to the library, waiting for Dick to get over his shock and acknowledge the command.

Despite the surprise, Dick’s brain managed to come up with a witty retort. “You remember to remove your notes this time, Roy?”

The fine-toned arms recrossed over the equally toned chest. “You’re a real piece of work, y’know.”

Dick let a chuckle escape from between his lips. “You’re not half-bad looking, yourself.”

The blush that bloomed on Roy’s face nearly melted into his hair. Dick knew that Roy hadn’t been commenting on his appearance, but when he saw something he liked, he went for it. Dick wasn’t shy about flirting, and now that he had seen Roy in person, he couldn’t deny feeling attracted. He was bisexual and proud. Besides, he had always been a fan of red hair.

“I like your sense of humor,” Dick complimented. “How about I go return this ‘piece of shit’ real fast, and then we can get to know each other a little better.” He raised an onyx eyebrow in suggestion.

Roy scoffed. “Now look who’s aiming for third base.”

Another chuckle escaped Dick’s mouth. “I’d be lucky to get to first.”

Dick could just make out the corner of Roy’s mouth twitch. It was like he wanted to smile, but was holding back.

“Three strikes and you’re out. Just be lucky I’ve already thrown you a foul.”

Dick smirked. “You got that right. Did the umpire in the front office see through it?”

The comment sent those brilliant sapphires rolling. “Strike one.”

Dick hissed. “Yikes. I guess the pitcher doesn’t like it when he gets called out.”

“Strike two.”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe I’ll aim for the home run this time. Go big or go home, I guess.”

The smile finally emerged on Roy’s lips. “Just be lucky I swing both ways.”

Dick felt his heart flutter in his chest. Then, to be cocky, “I thought I was the one up to bat?”

A fond sigh escaped Roy’s lips. “Fine. But I’m saving the screwballs for later. We’ll see how you do on first.”

Dick smiled. “Sounds like a win to me.”

Well, this took me longer to write than expected, but it’s done! Hopefully you’ll like it, my dear. All of Roy’s notes were ones that I took directly from my own copy of The Great Gatsby. I figured his sarcasm would align nicely with my own. Dick’s responses I had to come up with on the fly 😂 And yep, I don’t know where all of the baseball stuff at the end came from, but it’s there, and it’s witty, so I’m leaving it. Hopefully this stupid little thing will satisfy your RoyDick craving for a little while. It was interesting to write 😂

#dc #roy harper #dick grayson #high school au #prompt asks #prompts #writing #drabbles #asks #roydick #the great gatsby #i’m a sarcastic bitch 😂

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vergilsangel · 6 years ago

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The Heart of the Statue

A/N: So this is actually based on a dream I had about an Alternate Universe Vergil. I’m going to only make it a one-shot because I suck at making a series. I changed the look of the statue from my dream. In my dream it was more of a totem. I hope you all like it!

Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Some mentions of blood

Tagging: @sakkajagga @catsorfries @final-fantasy-xv-nut @drusoona @blindedstarlight @minteyeddemon

If you wish to be tagged just send me an ask with your username or send me an IM! ^.^

Requests are open! If you want a head canon for FFXV or Devil May Cry (not the reboot) send me an ask!!

Also please check out my Patreon account and my Ko-Fi account!

Eons ago, a great and terrible demon ravaged village after village. He slaughtered countless people and his name sent terror through the hearts of any that heard it. Many tried to stand up against the demon, but they all perished in the face of his great power. Finally, a mage of great power sealed the demon within a stone statue. Word spread of this mage’s heroic deed spread through the land and the people rejoiced as they relished in their newfound peace.

As time passed, the demon’s statue was forgotten to time. His name and vicious deeds faded as those who lost family and friends to his blade passed away. No one dared speak of him out of fear he would break free and return. The area around the statue became a forest. Nature tried hard to reclaim the statue into the Earth, but the mage’s spell on it prevented anything from breaking it. Three thousand years passed and the only ones who came across the statue were animals and insects.

At least, until you stumbled upon it by accident. You had been a part of a scavenger hunt, but somehow had lost the path. You weren’t even sure where in the forest you were. When you found the statue, you thought it was part of the hunt. But as you approached it, the many vines wrapping around it told a different story.

The statue was tall and you could easily hide behind it if you wished to. It had a square base and on top was a serpent. Its jaws open as though it were striking prey. As you studied it, you felt as though the statue was watching you.

“This has to be someone’s idea of a joke. What the hell would a statue be doing all the way in the middle of nowhere?” You muttered to yourself. Trying to find some sort of plaque or description carved into the monument, you circled it. As you brushed off moss and dirt, you noticed that the statue felt warm.

“That’s so weird.” You muttered, reaching the front of it again.

“A human?” Came a disembodied voice. You froze, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. Slowly, you looked around, trying to see if someone had followed you.

“Nero? Is that you? If you’re trying to freak me out, I swear I will kick your ass.” You asked, turning your back to the statue. Nero was the one who had arranged the scavenger hunt and was also the biggest ass you knew.

“Who are you, human? What are you doing here? How did you find this place?” Came the voice once more. It was with a terrible realization that the voice was coming from the statue. You turned to look at it. Were you going insane? Statues couldn’t talk!

“Nero?” You asked, wanting the ruse to be over with, but you knew deep in your gut that this wasn’t Nero’s work.

“My name is Vergil. Not Nero. I will ask again, what are you doing here and how did you find this place?” The voice asked. You had to be dreaming. Statues didn’t talk unless there was some sort of sound system wired into it. When you had circled it, you didn’t see any wires or anything indicating a sound system. If this was a prank, it was a very good one.

“I got lost during a scavenger hunt. I just happened to find this place. How are you talking inside a statue?” You asked. Your mind ran through several possibilities, all of them were more outrageous than the last. Several you dismissed with simple logic, the rest were anything to do with magic. But magic wasn’t real. It only existed in fairy tales.

“I was imprisoned many years ago by a mage. Tell me, what is the year?” Vergil answered. Okay, this HAD to be a prank. So, you decided to play along. Maybe you could beat Nero at his own game.

“It’s 2019. So tell me, Vergil, how did you get locked away in a statue? You said a mage did it? Why did they do it?” You asked. If he could ask several questions at once, so could you. Vergil was quiet for several moments making you wonder if the game was over with already. You even began looking around for Nero or someone, but then Vergil spoke again.

“Yes, a mage imprisoned me. I was dangerous to humans so I was imprisoned in this statue. I’ve been alone here for over 3,000 years.” Vergil answered. His answer made your heart ache for him. If he was real, he had been alone with no one to talk to.

“Did you get lonely?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“I wasn’t lonely when I was killing your kind, I am not lonely now.” Came his cold reply.

“Fine then. I’ll just leave you in peace.” You turned to leave. After five paces, Vergil spoke again.

“Wait.” At his request, you turned to look at the statue again.

“What?”

“Tell me about the world. What is it like now?” He asked. You knew this was a ploy to make you stay and you realized he truly was lonely. Deciding to indulge him, you went back and sat down. You told him about technology and everything the world had to offer now. He asked about magic, but you told him it didn’t exist. The two of you talked for what felt like hours.

Finally, you knew you were losing daylight and if you couldn’t find your way in the daytime, it would be impossible during the night. You said goodbye to Vergil with a promise to return if you found your way. Turning around, you walked back the way you came. It didn’t take you long to find the path again. As soon as you did, you dug out your pocketknife and carved a heart into the bark of a tree. That way you could easily find Vergil once again.

You continued to see him over the course of the next two weeks. Going out and spending time with him then returning home when it started to get dark out. As much as you tried to deny it, you were falling in love with him. And if this did turn out to be some elaborate prank by Nero, you weren’t sure you would recover from it.

One snowy day, you were heading out to see him. You were about to turn down the path, when someone grabbed you from behind. Instantly, your adrenaline kicked in and you began fighting your captor. Your foot managed to kick his knee and he dropped you. As you scrambled to get away, your hands and feet slipped on the wet snow. A glint caught your eye and the next second pain burned its way from your side as the snow slowly began turning red. You kicked behind you, connecting with your attacker’s face. It was the moment you needed and you took it. Dashing through the trees towards the statue.

In your frenzied state, you weren’t sure what Vergil could do to protect you, but your instincts drove you on towards him. Your left hand covered your right side, feeling warm blood trickle between your fingers from the cut.

“I’M GONNA GET YOU!!” Your attacker shouted from behind you. Finally, the statue was within sight.

“Vergil!” You cried.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

“WHERE ARE YOU?! I’M GONNA GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!” Your attacker shouted as you reached the statue. Vergil, for the first time in his life, felt fear. He knew he was going to watch you die and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. You were feeling tired and dizzy from blood loss. Gently, your bloodied hand touched the statue as you used it to support yourself. Your attacker smirked as he saw you, his knife gripped tightly in your hand.

“Nowhere to run to now.” He growled. You collapsed against the statue, shaking with fear, too weak to escape. Just as he raised the knife, there was a blue light from the statue and the next moment, your attacker was lying dead in the snow as a blue demon stood before you. His tail resting gently in the snow and his wings folding. The demon turned to you and you saw two horns on his head with flames coming out of them as well as a row of sharp teeth. His eyes, chest, and arms glowed blue with power. Then, the form scattered away like petals in the wind and a man in a blue trench coat stood there, carrying a samurai sword. He had white hair and silver eyes.

Before you could say anything to him, you lost consciousness. When you awoke, you were in a warm bed and could hear a fire crackling from nearby. Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw an unfamiliar ceiling. You tried to sit up, but pain shot up from your side, making you let out a soft cry and rest back on the pillows.

“You’re awake? Don’t try to move just yet, your wound hasn’t had time to close.” Came a familiar voice. You turned your head and saw the white-haired man from before.

“Vergil?” You asked and he nodded.

“This is my human form. The demon you saw, that is my real form. You freed me.” Vergil explained and your eyes widened.

“So…you really were inside the statue.” You breathed and Vergil nodded again.

“I was. You didn’t believe it?”

“Do you blame me? I’ve never seen magic in my life that wasn’t just sleight of hand.” You answered. Vergil chuckled and shut his book. Wait. That wasn’t his book, that was yours!

“You went through my things?” You asked and Vergil sighed.

“I wanted to find an address for you, but couldn’t find one. I found the book instead. You have been asleep for two days.” Vergil explained. It made you feel a little better, but you still felt weird about him going through your things. Both of you fell silent for a time before you spoke again.

“Where are we?”

“A cabin in the mountains. It used to be mine when I was free. I put a spell on it so it would last forever, apparently despite my imprisonment, the spell did not wear off.” You nodded and it brought up another question. One you were hesitant to ask.

“Why did you rescue me? You told me that you used to hate humans. What changed your mind?” Vergil’s fingers gently traced the title of the book, his silver eyes glazed over in thought.

“For 3,000 years I was alone. For a time, that didn’t bother me. I preferred the solitude. But I began missing things. The feel of wind on my face. The warmth of the sun. Most of all, I missed any form of contact. It never dawned on me when I was free what would happen if I killed all the humans. There would be no one left to talk to except myself. I only realized that loneliness while I was imprisoned. Then you came and saved me from that loneliness. And you are the reason I’m free again.” Vergil explained. He set the book on the floor beside him, uncrossed his legs, and sat forward, gently taking your hand in his own.

“You gave me a reason to live a better life. I promise you, I will not hurt anymore humans unless they try to harm you, but let me stay at your side. Let me learn from you and…and let me love you.” Vergil finished and your eyes widened. He loved you? Had you heard him right? Before he said another word, you sat up and kissed him, ignoring the pain from your side. His lips were soft and warm, even as he returned the kiss and stroked your cheek gently.

“Will you let me love you in return?” You asked and Vergil nodded, kissing you tenderly once again. After you both broke the kiss, you lay back on the couch, squeezing his hand, breathing through the pain.

“So, that is a ‘yes’?” Vergil asked and you nodded. He took your hand between both of his own and they glowed blue.

“So it is promised between myself and you.” Vergil said as the light faded. Around your wrist was now a light blue tattoo in the shape of his tail.

“What does this mean?” You asked and looked up at him.

“It means that I am bound to you and you to me. If I break my promise, I will die.”

“And what happens if I break my promise?” Vergil studied the new tattoo on your wrist, his fingers gently tracing over the mark.

“The bond will be broken and I will be free to do as I wish. I will not ever harm you. Even if you break your promise, I will never harm you.” Vergil looked up into your eyes and you knew he was sincere. He wanted to change and you wanted to help him in any way you could. You squeezed his hand and smiled, silently letting him know that you were happy he was there. As you thought about it, another question came to mind.

“How was I able to free you?”

“I was just as surprised as you. When the mage put me in that statue, he told me only he or anyone of his bloodline could free me. Apparently you are his descendant.” Vergil answered and your eyes widened.

“Shut up.” You replied in shock making Vergil chuckle. Seeing his smile warmed your heart. You had heard him laugh when the two of you talked, but seeing how his eyes sparkled with joy filled you with more joy than you could ever dream of.

“So, I’m the descendant of a powerful mage? Does that mean I can do magic?” You asked.

“Possibly. I know of some I could teach you, but first you must heal.” Vergil gently kissed your forehead.

“Get some rest. The sooner you recover, the sooner I can teach you magic.” He promised. After a few days, you healed and you took Vergil to your home. It took some doing, but Vergil was true to his word.

And you were true to yours.

#Vergil #vergil x reader #dmc vergil #vergil x oc #vergil fanfiction #devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry au #Vergil is a blueberry

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lethe-rpg · 5 years ago

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Nagisa is a shapeshifter and lamia hybrid.

It was not sudden, but gradual. Slowly, the bright stage lights no longer blinded him. The cheers and applause started to fade and became a distant echo. The lines he recited were being spoken in a voice that was not entirely his own. As he stood on the stage, draped in layers of silk fineries and powdered with bold and exaggerated make-up, the manufactured glamour of it all became apparent to him. None of this was who he really was. It was beyond acting. He was living a lie. Though the countless awards he received and autographs he signed read “Kazuyuki Otomo-Nata,” the name felt as disembodied as the roles he portrayed night after night. It was the natural price of dedicating himself to the craft he was told. Losing himself, becoming a blank slate, so that he could become anyone. Masters of kabuki could train for years and never reach the level of captivating immersion he could already bring to the stage just as an adolescent with years still ahead of him to perfect his acting, and many would argue he had already done so. Jealous rumours insisted that as heir to a well-respected clan, his success was nepotism. Admirers claimed it was his innate talent and dedicated efforts. But it was the quietest whispers that knew the truth, of how he had literally bewitched his dedicated fans and would-be critics alike. “Demon half-breed,” his own family would say in hushed voices with looks of disgust. Those words still ring in his ears today even when the spotlight of the stage had long since lost its allure and dimmed.

Shifting was not unlike acting in a role. To do it well, one had to know every facet, commit each minute detail to memory, convince yourself you are who you say you are, until the lines become so blurred, no one — not even yourself — could really say who you were or what you had become; in that moment, you simply just are. But for all his success as an actor, shifting never clicked in the same way. No amount of practice helped him improve. Rather, the harder he tried, the worse the effects shifting had on him. It still was and always had been painful and disorienting. Nothing like how his family members had described it, euphoric and freeing. Again, “demon half-breed,” but this time with a sneer and a distinct lack of being subtle. It seemed that he would never fit in and resigned himself to that fact. For years, he lived basking in the spotlight and adoration of fans by night, and bowing his head and trailing in the shadows of those he had shared blood relations with by day. Time went on and he continued to feel nothing, all while wearing this carefully constructed mask of Kazuyuki “Nagisa” Otomo-Nata.

The first chance he had at running away was in the form of the eldest daughter of the Takanashi clan. Brash and unyielding, the fire he saw in her reminded him of his mother, Jezebel Nata. A proud lamia the Otomo clan had kept in a glorified cage, during their infrequent and brief meetings, she had always told him to take pride in being who he was: “My demon half-breed,” she would softly say in her singsong voice. When she said those words, there was no shame or anger, just unconditional love. He could not say if he felt anything towards the Takanashi girl, least of all love and especially not the kind that drives people to get married, and yet that was how they were introduced — betrothed. When he had met to present her with a ring, the exchange was attended by the girl’s elder brother. They shared nothing more than a brief acknowledgement of each other’s presence, but there was no denying that he felt something. Nagisa knew another skilled actor when he saw one, one who wore a mask like he did, one who was also looking for an escape. In that moment, he realized who he would rather be giving the ring to.

The time he actually ran away was when he died at the hands of the one he now knew he loved. Faking his death was a feat he had done countless times on stage, and having to fool his clan who had been not-so-secretly wishing for this very thing to happen was an even easier task. To say leaving the life that had caused him to become so numb was liberating would be an understatement. For the first time in his life, he could make his own choices, and among the infinite choices that were available to him, he chose to be the one thing he never was — normal. “Normal” gave him a new name that did not carry the weight of generations of tradition, a passion for making others feel beautiful without having to change who they were, and a love he never even dared to imagine could be his.

Only their love could convince him to do the one thing he was reluctant to do, and he shifted into a bird at his husband’s request to save on travel for their honeymoon. To his surprise, the pain of shifting was soon replaced with euphoria. The same elusive euphoria his clan had described all those years ago. Never had shifting felt so freeing. As he surrendered himself to the bird’s instinct and lack of inhibition, he gradually became unburdened with the thoughts that plagued human minds. Like he did with roles in the past, the lines began to blur, and he found himself jammed, though the experience was not entirely that unpleasant. The majority of his time in Lethe was spent as a bird, kept in the relative safety of the Takanashi estate. Very few knew of his real identity, but the sea turtle down the hallway knew who he was immediately. Spending time with the retired Takanashi matriarch was like the childhood he longed to have with his own mother. It was the only regret he had of his former life. Without words, they talked about the different paths life could take, of risks taken, opportunities lost, and secrets held. One such secret was how to unjam oneself, and maybe it was the bird’s lack of inhibition kicking in, but he immediately got the urge to try it and found himself a human again. Now back in his body, the things the sea turtle had told him piqued his curiosity about the town. And while Lethe was not exactly what Nagisa had in mind, at least him and his husband will finally have their long overdue romantic getaway.

#taken hybrid #taken male #taken #Kazuyuki otomo nata #anthony thornburg

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cyberlifeleds · 7 years ago

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NTABD p. 3

RK900 (Nines)x reader

Part one. Part two.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, violence, death

*** is a timeskip

@mamamemequeen @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @acieoj @imaginovator

Enjoy my lovelies 🖤🖤🖤

There were no words spoken between the two of you as you made your way to the station. Worry gnawed at you from the inside. Did you say something or do something wrong? Thoughts like this were soon shoved to the back of your mind as you dove headfirst into work. Today would be a busy day, there was too much on your plate. You put everything personal to the back burner, typing at your computer while Nines interfaced to the terminal next to yours. The morning would consist mostly of computer work. You weren’t able to focus like you would have usually. The need for sleep clawed at your eyes, begging you to indulge in their siren’s call.

As if someone read your mind, a steaming cup of coffee was set on your desk top. Your typing stopped as you gazed at the cup, blinking dumbly. The smell alone was enough to perk you up. Looking at the giver of such present you gave a tired smile that didn’t touch your eyes. “Connor. Is this for me? That’s very thoughtful of you” your hands wrapped around the mug. The warmth was welcoming, you held it close to your chest. Connor’s smile was almost as warm as the coffee in which you now took a drink from. “I noticed you could use a small pick-me-up. After all you need to be sharp for your assignment this afternoon”

Your smile faltered, only for a few seconds and your eyes flashed to your partner before looking back at Connor. You were certain the android had caught it, but you pressed on. “Right... warehouse. Hopefully, it will just contain the evidence that I need and no... no traps” Your voice cracked slightly and you hurriedly sipped on your coffee to cover it up. You set your cup down on your desk “Well thank you for the coffee but I really should get back to work” You dismissed Connor, a tight smile on your face. Your hands, now in your lap, performing the repeated action of running your thumb over your finger tips. Keep it together. You’re cracking.

Connor nodded, confusion evident on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it and instead offered a friendly smile and nod as he turned and walked away. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking a moment to reorganize your thoughts you were about to start typing again- “you’re showing signs of elevated stress” the baritone voice rang loud enough for you to hear, you turned to your partner. You opened your mouth to speak, taking a moment “Nines did you just scan me?” A curt nod. Looking away you pressed your lips together “if I could ask you not to do that again... I’d really just appreciate that.” You avoided eye contact, typing at your terminal.

The silence would have been preferred but it was broken yet again “have I done something wrong?” Your mouth was dry, you swallowed “no. You didn’t do anything wrong Nines it’s just...I - I don’t feel comfortable I suppose with you knowing what’s going on...” your sentence petered out as you made eye contact with the android, his eyebrows slightly knit together. What were you saying? That you don’t want him to know how you feel. Why would it matter if he know what was going on? You shook your head slightly and grabbed some files off your desk, standing “Forget I said anything, it’s... alright I suppose” You turned and left to give these files to someone else.

^software instability

Words flashed in front of his eyes once more, and it took a blink to wash them away as if they didn’t exist.

***

It was time. It was time and you were nervous and stressed, lack of sleep from the night before did not help the situation. You had checked your bullet proof vest once more, making sure it sat right. You were right out side of a warehouse that was rumored to be a busy location for Red Ice dealers. You had been investigating this location for a while and knew that there could be more evidence here. You had back up near by and the place had already been checked for traps and explosives. You didn't speak as you and your partner headed in side. The space was huge inside and cut off all out side noise. It was extremely messy inside, with boxes and cartons strewn about and papers haphazardly every where. The strong stench of soil and mildew hung in the air.

You made your way in, alert and aware of every breath you took and your surroundings. Feeling satisfied that it was just the two of you, you allowed your self to relax a little. Or at least you tried, you were still very much on edge. Nines would often look to you, and though you asked him not to, he felt the need to scan you and make sure you were doing alright. It did pertain to his mission that you stay healthy. His scans showed an increased level of stress. Something was different, Nines had noted. Like you had been in a similar situation before.

He continued to follow you as you began to focus on the papers on the floor. You both knew you were in dangerous territory, but you could find something that could shut down one more operation. A trace of something red caught your eye. Though you already knew what it was, you bagged the item for evidence. Red Ice. Just a small amount. This was a step in the right direction. You continued to move, going around a large stack of crates. Nines knelt down, looking at the small amount of red Ice. He went to reach for it but shot up hearing the click of a safety.

He stood and couldn’t see you, scanning he saw two nearby heat signatures. He rushed to where you were, standing a few feet behind you. Your gun was drawn, your form rigid as you faced a person with a gun, a deranged look in their eye. This building was supposed to be clear. “Sir I need you to put the gun down slowly-” “sh-shut the fuck up you pig!” His voice was harsh, violent irritation seeped from his words “Fucking pig messing up shit...” he spat in your direction. You were vaguely aware of Nines behind you “Sir” you raised your weapon slightly, a warning.

The perpetrator flinched and raised his own weapon, firing with out a care. The crack reverberated off the warehouse walls, a cold lump dropped in your stomach. You opened your eyes. When had you closed them? Only to be met with the back of Nines. His side stained blue. That cold feeling grew, your eyes wide. A flash of a memory assaulted your senses, causing you to swallow thick and watch numbly as Nines took down the shooter. There were other cracks from his gun, bullets lodging in the floor or nearby wood, but soon the man, high on red Ice, was bloody and unconscious.

A disembodied voice was now talking in to a communicator. “requesting back up, we’ve got a suspect and an officer down” It was your voice. Your eyes flitted to Nines, though you only saw a different face. Your mind swirled. You froze. How could you freeze? How could you-?! Nines moved forward, reaching his hand out. You flinched away as if he burned you before he could even get close. “Don’t” was all you said. You turned quickly, pushing past the backup that now came in flooding

^Software Instability blocked his sights from you. More cracks in his red wall.

***

After filing a report and letting the officers on sight know what was going on you left. You stomach and head tumultuous as thoughts and memories flooded into your head. You couldn’t stop them. You had to get out of there. You had to be somewhere safe. Your phone dinged, a message from Nines saying that the bullet was not in a fatal place and that he should be able to get it fixed but that he wouldn’t be around. You didn’t want him around. Not now.

You don’t remember driving home, but you were barely aware of your house greeting you as it usually does. Your stuff discarded in the walkway, you stumbled in to the kitchen where you grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass. Eerily calm, you poured the red liquid into the glass then drank deeply. Lifting the glass from your lips, your red reflection stared back at you in the leftover wine. You broke. A cry, which came from your soul, left your body as you flung the glass against the wall, shards of glass exploding from the impact. Your chest heaving, hot heavy tears poured down your cheeks. You were feeling everything. And you hated it, wanting the screaming in your head to stop.

You reached for another glass, pouring some more to drown yourself in.

***

The constructs of time were lost on you as you numbly sat on your kitchen floor. Not caring about the shards that dug into your palms, congealed blood surrounding the cut areas. Your house chimed, telling the entrance of Nines. You stared at the wall, the buzz in your head too loud, but not loud enough. Red flashed on his LED at the state you were in. He moved, face ever void of emotion, and placed his hands underneath your arms, lifting you to your feet with ease.

Something stirred within you. A fire with no warmth, but was all consuming. “No” you slurred, struggling softly “NO!” you pushed off him, stumbling backwards, into the counter. You glared at him, holding your hand out so that he’d keep his distance. He looked on, perplexed. “No. Fuck you. You’d don’t just get to... get to do that. You don’t get to help me after..” You shook your head, trying to clear it only making you dizzier. The rattle of an empty wine bottle sounded as you tried to steady yourself. The crunch of glass sounded in reply.

“You’re drunk” “Not fucking enough!” you spat “I want to forget everything that happened today. I never want to remember this. I want to forget like I forgot before...” pain seeped through the anger for a moment. Nines tilted his head “What do you mean ‘ like before?’“ You pushed on, ignoring his inquiry. “You never take a bullet for me alright?” half yelled “Don’t you ever do that again! If someone shoots me so be it but if anything happened to you I’d...” Another shake of the head. “Detec- Y/n, I insist you tell me what is going on” “what’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on! I didn’t even want another partner to begin with! I didn’t want this and I sure as hell didn’t want you.”

It wasn’t in your files that you had a partner before, his thoughts were interrupted as a hit to his chest made him look down. You had pushed him back a little “She died and it was My fault! And I can’t-I won’t have you-” Tears now freely flowed down your cheeks, icy cold compared to the ones before, as you hit his chest with your fists. Your emotions overcame you again “She was my sister and I let her-”you swallowed thickly as you crumpled into his surprisingly warm body, your hands muffling your face as sobs racked your body.

Nines stood there, arms at his side as he looked down and watched you sob into his chest. He soon couldn’t see you again, the red wall obscuring his vision. Why did it have to be red? He was starting to grow tired of the color today. From the Red Ice that was found earlier, to the spilt remnants of the wine on the floor to the dried blood on your own hands. He didn’t want red anymore. He was fighting himself. Conflicting messages rang throughout his code. His mission was conflicting with a deeper part of him. He needed to do something, and you were his mission. He fought, and lifted his arms, placing them awkwardly around you, as if he were uncomfortable, but they were welcome. His cracks grew bigger.

^^Software Instability

#detroit become human #dbh nines #rk900 #rk900 x reader #dbh fanfic #detroit: bh #angst #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic #ntabd

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the-marvel-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Madness | Chpt. 9

Requests are Open

Chapter Title: “Alone Again”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7,782

Warnings: ???

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

A/N: This was one of the more difficult chapters to make it through, since I wanted to follow the timeline of events in IM3 (one of my favorite movies in the MCU), but I also wanted to tie in Eva. I hope Tony lives up to your expectations. I try to pull pieces from the MCU version, comic book version, and my own personal ideas. Once again, you’re all so amazing for even reading this in the first place. I love all of you so, so, so much <3 -Ellie

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

When I landed, a chill overcame me as soon as the bridge disappeared from around me. I gazed around at the ground that surrounded the ring the Bifrost left and noticed that it was all snow. I pulled the hood of my white robe over my head and pulled the robes around my body, feeling warmer instantly. As I gazed up into the crystal clear night sky, I saw the stars twinkling and shimmering. Midgard had some of the most beautiful views of the sky, but it was nothing close to the view from the edge of Asgard. Still, whenever Loki and I were on Midgard, we would find a way to lay in the grass and gaze up at the stars for a while. Suddenly, I noticed him. At first, he looked more like a falling star than the armored man. Seeing his trajectory, I knew that he was bound to fly right into the forest next to me.

I ran over to the trees and rested my hand against them. As I closed my eyes, I connected with the essence of life within the planet itself. She was beautiful, strong, and loving without expecting any love in return. The Midgardians often treated her poorly, but she continued to provide for them as best she could. I focused on the pulsing energy beneath the tips of my fingers as the sound of the suit rocketing toward the Earth faded away. The sound wasn’t replaced by another, but instead, it was replaced by the beautiful silence of the world. In the silence, my soul became eternally bound to hers. It was an experience that I had on my own, as no other Asgardian I confided in had ever felt that way before. However, it made my bonds with the life energies of every world that much more powerful. When our souls bound together, she finally heard my heart, and I could feel the tree beneath my hand shift. I felt them all shift.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that the trees had separated just enough to accommodate Tony’s fall, and as he zoomed past me and through the forest, I thanked her for her act of generosity. I began running after him, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to catch him, not before he stopped himself. He bounced off the ground a few more times, which slowed him down. Nearly as soon as he made it out of the forest, I had caught up to him enough to grab hold of his suit in an attempt to stop him. The metal slipped from my fingers, and he skidded across the ground before coming to a complete stop, face first in the snow. I hid myself in the darkness that the forest provided once the trees moved back into place. The light from the stars and moon in the night sky left shadows in the woods that I faded into.

As I camouflaged myself in the darkness, I watched as one of the greatest heroes I knew groaned and turned himself over onto his back before reaching up and tearing off the metal faceplate, “what the hell was that?” he asked aloud to the artificial intelligence we all knew as Jarvis. I could hear the change in his breathing pattern. I had such a strong connection to him that I could feel every subtle change within him, sometimes before they even happened. I knew that he was paranoid about what just happened, “did you see that beam of light in the sky, Jay? Was it just me? Am I going crazy? Where are we” he asked, his voice trembling.

I didn’t hear Jarvis’ response, but if I closed my eyes, I could hear that voice. It was smoother than anyone could have anticipated from a disembodied, artificial voice. As Tony’s suit opened, I watched as he shot out of it, sitting up and staring into the woods he had just barrelled through. I knew he was trying to think of how he possibly made it out of there without crashing through trees and hitting branches. His eyes scanned the shadows, but I blended in so well that he wouldn’t be able to see me even if he was staring right at me. I watched as he began to shudder from the cold, “that’s brisk!” he exclaimed, his entire body trembling from the cold. I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve felt for him. I was lucky enough to be impervious to the fluctuating seasons. The extreme heat and cold wouldn’t kill me, but it could make me uncomfortable, and I was pretty uncomfortable in that moment, “maybe I’ll just cozy back up for a-”

Tony was cut off by the disembodied voice that came from the open suit, “I...actually think I need to sleep now, sir,” Jarvis said, the suit beginning to power down.

“Jarvis. Jarvis?” Tony asked, panic in his voice. I knew he didn’t want to be left alone, not after what he just went through. I didn’t know what led up to him rocketing down toward the ground, but I could tell by the fear in his voice, the cuts on his face, and the shaking in his hands that things were far from being alright for him. He was terrified, and it wasn’t because of what just happened, it was because of something else, something I needed to help him with. As his eyes continued to scan the forest around him, I stepped out of the shadows and listened to his breath hitch in his throat. As I stepped out of the forest and closed the space between us, I lowered the hood of my robes, “Eva?” he asked, his body continuing to quake in anticipation, uncertainty, and the cold.

The sides of my mouth pulled up into a smile, and I did my best to push back the pain in my abdomen for the moment in order to be positive for his sake, “hi, Tony,” I murmured, my heart filling with joy as it finally sank in that he was alive. When Heimdall told me that he was in danger, I was worried that I wouldn’t make it to him in time or that he would already be dead.

His dark brown eyes remained wide, even as I knelt down beside him. He was in utter disbelief that I was even there in front of him, and there would be little to nothing I could do to ease his mind. The last time we saw each other, I had made it abundantly clear that I would only be back in the most dire circumstances that pertained to her safety. However, I knew that she wasn’t in danger with Steve; there was no way he would allow harm to come to her, especially not after all we had been through. Tony was the only one whose life was on the line. He shook his head, his eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly as he tried to blink away what he thought was an illusion, “am I dreaming?” he asked, the words causing me to let out a chuckle, “am I dead?” he asked, not understanding why he was seeing me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering why it was so hard for a genius like him to figure it out. I knew that part of it was how I left things when I went back to Asgard the last time, but I also knew that a part of it was because he couldn’t wrap his mind around why someone would care about him enough to go out of their way to help him. It was devastating to see him trying to figure out why people would care about him in the first place, and I was watching it happen in front of my eyes in that very moment, “no, why?” I asked, wrapping my cloak around his shoulders to keep him warm. The lack of warmth from my cloak left my patches of bare skin prey for the cold air around us. Tony was warm, though, and that was all that mattered.

As he tried to shrug out of the cloak, not wanting me to go without, I shook my head and watched as the robes stayed locked around his body. He looked genuinely confused, but he was still too busy trying to decipher my presence, “what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, finally giving up the fight to figure it out on his own. Suddenly, his eyes filled with dread, “is she okay?” he asked, knowing that there should’ve been no reason for my presence as long as she was safe.

I gave a simple nod, not wanting to talk about her, “I’m here to help. I saw that you were in trouble, so I’m here to help you sort through it and to make sure you don’t get yourself killed, which it seems like you’re trying to do,” I said, gazing at the cuts on his face. There was one across the bridge of his nose, one on his cheek, and one on his forehead. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to piece together what happened before I got there, what happened to lead to him rocketing toward the Earth, looking just as busted up as Hjalmar did when he trained with Ephinea. She could lay him out without missing a beat, “you’re bleeding!” I exclaimed, reaching out to cup his cheek only for him to wince away from me.

That single move tore my heart to pieces, as if there was still enough of it left whole for that to happen. I had always been able to see through the facade he put up, but this was something new. He was far more vulnerable than ever before in that one reaction, and it summed up the way he saw himself. It summed up just how little he believed he was worth. He didn’t think himself worthy enough for my help, and he was afraid that I would hurt him. It hurt to know that he could view me as a threat, but it hurt me even more that someone or something hurt him so badly that he was conditioned to expect that. Tony had been through a lot, far more than he ever could’ve imagined, far more than many others could handle. He was tender-hearted but hid away that side of himself to appear cold, to appear “strong.”

I blinked the tears away, not wanting to show him how much his action truly hurt me, “I can fix it,” I explained, causing him to finally show himself to me. His eyebrows furrowed, and I knew that he doubted my abilities, but he would see them in a moment. I reached up once more, focusing on the slow movement of my hand, making sure not to startle him again. The entire time, I felt his gaze on me, and once I finally rested my hand against his cheek, I met his intense stare, brown eyes boring into mine. They were so deep that the further I fell into his gaze, the warmer I became. As I focused my power, I felt his wounds transferring through my fingertips and onto me, and his eyes fluttered closed. Even though it was always an unpleasant experience, even though my whole body ached, the piece that made the transfer worth it was knowing that the pain I endured was a pain he no longer needed to carry. For a man like Tony, I would take on a pain that would take my life just so the world could keep him.

Once I removed my hand from his cheek, his eyes shot open. Every time I touched someone, I knew the effect. Our souls-for that moment-were connected. I didn’t understand why or how it happened, but it did. When I used my abilities on that person through the touch, the connection was heightened. When I stopped using my abilities and pulled away, it was like an electrical shock, leaving the other person slightly mystified. When Tony finally realized what I had done, seeing the cuts on my face that once belonged to him, his eyebrows furrowed, “how did-why did you do that?” he asked, tripping over his own words.

“I wanted to help,” I answered simply before standing up and holding my hand out for him to join me. He took it, and I pulled him up to his feet. He brushed himself off beneath the cloak that fell from his broad shoulders. For a moment, I saw Howard once more, and I realized how similar they looked but how much gentler Tony was than his father. I cleared my throat, not wanting to waste time reminiscing when I didn’t know the kind of danger Tony was in, “come. Let us find somewhere warmer,” I stated, and he nodded his head in agreement. Even though he was warm in the robes, I knew he only agreed because he was worried about me, and he would’ve attempted to give the robes back if he didn’t already know what my response would have been. We learned a lot about each other in New York, “we should make our way toward the closest town. I will carry the suit. Just follow me and try not to freeze to death.”

He shook his head as soon as I mentioned his suit, and I knew that it was the same reaction I would’ve received if I offered to carry a mother’s newborn child away from her. He was simply protective over his creations, and he had good reason to be. He worked tirelessly on them, and I saw what his obsession and perfectionist mentality had done to him. He wanted to protect the things he nearly killed himself trying to perfect, “I can carry the-” his voice trailed off as I lifted the suit into my arms, and rested it over my shoulder like Hjalmar did to me countless times before throwing me into the pond in the woods behind our cottage. I watched as Tony’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, “yeah, you can...carry the suit,” he murmured.

I chuckled, knowing that he seemingly forgot that I was not of this world, that our anatomy, while very similar, was different. I was no goddess, but Asgardians were physically stronger than the people of Midgard and were more durable for the most part. Closing my eyes, I felt my life connecting with the essence of the world beneath my feet, and I listened to the gentle thrumming that surrounded me. I could where it was coming from, and when I opened my eyes, I began following it with Tony close behind me. He picked up his pace and gazed up at me, “how do you even know which way we’re going? Have you been in this area before?” he asked, unsure of how I knew where I was.

I shook my head, “no, but I can feel it,” I answered, not knowing exactly how to explain it, but I could still feel his confusion. Tony was very grounded in science and logic, but there were certain things about me, certain things about the world I knew, that weren’t grounded in anything I could explain with science or with a language he would know. I didn’t even know how to comprehend some of my abilities, and there were times when I lived in fear of them because they had a tendency to show up out of the blue. I wasn’t a goddess, but I had been granted strengths and abilities that were uncommon in the lives of the average Asgardian. I continued to speak, knowing that he would remain uncertain as long as his unasked question went unanswered, “it’s a lot like a vibration. I can feel the essence of life, and I can feel it when it’s close. I just know the way to go,” I explained to the best of my ability.

I glanced over at him, and our eyes connected. I saw every vulnerability he had in that moment, and he knew I could see it, but he didn’t try to hide from me. Our connection, while strange, was deep and unbreakable. No amount of time or space could break what we had, and that all began far before he could remember, far before I would ever disclose. He gave a simple nod of his head, content with the answer I gave, even though it was vague and confusing, “I trust you,” he remarked, an intensity in his eyes that could match a dying star.

“I won’t let you down,” I promised before gazing down at the snow that covered the ground in a blanket of white. We walked in silence for a while as we both tried to wrap our minds around what was happening in our own personal lives. I knew that Tony would be too respectful of my privacy to press the question of why I was on Midgard helping him. He knew what coming back to this world meant to me, the kind of pain and distress it would cause me, so he couldn’t understand why I would come back to help him with something that wasn’t a threat on a worldwide scale, not like Loki had been in New York. I didn’t know if he was willing to talk about the events that led up to him crashing into a field of snow so far from civilization, so we walked in silence until we saw the lights radiating from a small town.

“Maybe we should look for a phone, so you can try to contact Pepper to let her know you’re safe,” I noted, making a mental note to find someone who was willing to spare their phone for Tony to use, “she must be worried sick about you.”

He cleared his throat, and I felt a shift in his energy. Glancing over at him, I saw the frown etched deeply into his face, and I knew that he was upset by my words. Before I had the chance to apologize, he spoke, “she actually left after New York,” he confessed, “she said that it was too much to handle, especially since I wasn’t willing to put my suits to rest. How could I, though, especially after seeing what the world was up against?” he asked, running a hand through his hair before returning it to the warmth beneath the robes.

I frowned, “you’ve been a hero to the world for a long time, Tony. You made the choice to become a hero, and that choice didn’t come from a place of arrogance or need for a higher level of fame. You became a hero because you have the compassion this world so desperately needs. You took the weight of the world onto your shoulders and fought on behalf of those who couldn’t fight for themselves. If my words mean anything, you should know that you more than earned the luxury of hanging up the mantle of Iron Man and living as Tony Stark,” I explained, “I’m not telling you that you need to, and I’m not telling you that she was right for leaving. Just because she left doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you anymore.”

He shook his head, “she moved on. She’s with a new guy in a new city, and she’s happy. That’s all I ever wanted for her, and I think that deep down, I knew she wouldn’t find that with me,” he stated.

My eyes immediately filled with tears as I listened to him talk about himself like there was something wrong with him. I blinked the tears away, but the ache in my heart was still there, “I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you because you’d understand just how brilliant and incredible you truly are, Tony. It hurts to hear the way you talk about yourself, like you’re not worthy of love because...you’re wrong,” I stated, shaking my head.

Then, there was silence again. All I could hear was the snowflakes falling from the sky. Some of them even clung to Tony’s long eyelashes, which I couldn’t help but notice when I glanced over at him, wanting to know if I had crossed a line with him. Feeling my gaze, he met my eyes with his once more, a light smile tugging at his lips, “so, if you aren’t down here for her, why come here for me?” he asked, questioning my reasoning with furrowed eyebrows. I knew that his confusion stemmed from my previous statements that I wouldn’t come back to Midgard unless her life was in danger or that the safety of the entire planet was on the line.

“I told Heimdall to keep an eye on certain people at all times-her, the other Avengers, and you,” I noted, feeling the disbelief within him when I mentioned him. The man never saw himself as worthy of anything, especially love or concern, “I assigned him the task of watching over you all, and he would fill me in on any changes as they presented themselves. He promised to alert me if any of your lives were in danger, and when he disclosed to me that you were in danger, I came right away,” I explained.

“So, you didn’t live up to your word,” he stated, nonchalantly, the hint of an entertained smirk forming on his lips. He was amused that he was right, as he had argued with me furiously when I promised not to come back. He told me that it was selfish and abhorrent to leave so many people who cared about me so much, and he also told me that I wouldn’t be able to stay away for long, not with the “heart of gold” he claimed I had. I didn’t believe it, though. How could I believe I was “good” or “worthy” when the favor I asked of him was so selfish, when I was poisoning everyone around me, when I was repeating the same injustice that was done to me when I wasn’t even old enough to comprehend it.

I sighed, “I couldn’t live up to my word, not with this. You were right, though, Tony. It was ignorant of me to think that I could stay away, especially from you,” I noted, glancing up at him to see that he tried to hide the color that rose to his cheeks the moment I paid him a compliment.

He cleared his throat, obviously not comfortable calling attention to the effect my words had on him in that moment. It wasn’t my intention to cause him discomfort, but perhaps I just had a tendency to do so. I could vividly remember my words of praise having the same effect on Loki, Thor, Hjalmar, Ephinea, and every Midgardian I came in contact with, including the ever stoic Natasha Romanoff. Tony glanced up at me, his brown eyes sparkling as if the galaxy resided within them, “well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t like having to admit I need help, but it wouldn’t hurt to have an Asgardian in my corner for this one,” he noted, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

“We’re going to fix this together. You won’t face this alone, Tony; you never face anything alone,” I reminded him, knowing that he had a tendency to believe himself to be isolated, but as long as I was alive, there would never come a day he would be alone. I would be his guardian, regardless of the amount of times he tried to talk me out of risking my life for his. I had come to understand that we-as living beings-wish to preserve things that we deem better than ourselves, and Tony Stark was far better than I was.

The silence fell between us once more, and I found myself enjoying the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet. However, the sensation of the falling snowflakes left my cheeks wet and bitter cold. There was nothing quite like the sensation of his warmth invading my own, though. He drew closer and closer to me until there was little space between us, and he pushed the robe back just enough to slip his hand out from under it and grasp mine. As soon as our skin touched, I felt the uncertainty and the fear within him. He was terrified of the future, and my presence-somehow-gave him the support he so desperately needed in that trying time. His sudden firm, yet gentle, grasp of my hand made me realize the impact I could have on the life of a man who meant so much to me, and I could only hope I didn’t ruin it again.

For the remainder of our journey, I continued to carry the suit with one arm while the fingers of my opposite hand intertwined perfectly with those of the brilliant man beside me, “what has it been like?” he asked, vaguely, causing my eyebrows to furrow. I could feel what he wanted to ask me, but I was too afraid to answer him, so I resorted to confusion, “it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I don’t have a watcher like you do. The last time you left, I was...worried, and I haven’t seen you since. I just want to know what has gone on in your life,” he explained, his heart of gold shining through once more, as if I could possibly forget how tender he always was with me.

My heart broke as I thought of all that had happened since we’d last seen each other. No matter how terrible I felt at our last encounter, I felt impossibly worse in the aftermath of it. It was as if I tore the remainder of my heart out when we last saw each other and left it on Midgard. While it was broken and abused, I was lost without it, and with the loss of my brother and the struggles I had recently with Loki, I realized just how turbulent my life had been since I’d seen him. The last time we spoke, I was doing my best to fix the damaged pieces of myself and of my relationship with Loki. Knowing he was still alive renewed my drive to rescue him from the dark recesses of his own mind, a darkness that hadn’t been there from the beginning. Since that time, I had no opportunities to better myself or help Loki or keep the people I loved most safe. I sighed, “well…” I breathed out, not knowing how to explain everything to him. He had asked many questions when we “first” met, so he knew about Hjalmar and my past. The only thing he didn’t know about was my history with Loki.

My heart began racing in anticipation for having to open up about the complete and utter failure my life had been from the moment I left him on the rooftop in tears; however, as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, I was saved by a small and flickering light. The energy I felt was untamed, and I was caught off guard by the sudden pull to that place in particular. I pulled my hand away from his and pointed at the dim light, “look!” I exclaimed, urging Tony to take notice of our shelter for the night. I was more than grateful to have been saved from needing to talk about Hjalmar and Loki, knowing that I wouldn’t have been able to lie to Tony, not without him seeing right through me. I would’ve had no choice but to be honest with him about what I had gone through since our last encounter.

As we drew closer to the small shack, we saw it was adjacent to an equally small house that looked to be in need of some manual labor. After passing through one last clump of trees, we came to the clearing only to see the small town spread out only a short distance from the shack. I felt the vibrations becoming stronger and stronger within my body as we drew closer to our shelter for the night, and I glanced over at Tony’s face to see a look of pure relief. I knew that he had some doubts that we would manage to find our way to civilization, especially after his bad luck leading up to that point. Peeking in through the window of the house, he concluded that no one was home, but I couldn’t understand why my senses were so wrong. I could feel a powerful pull to this place, and if no one was there, it would be meaningless.

Once we broke into the shack-an easy feat when Tony had a crowbar-I stepped inside the air that was just a touch warmer than the outside and placed the suit down on the floor. As I stood back up, a pulse of fire radiated from the wound on my abdomen, causing my body to seize. Before Tony could notice, I forced myself to stand back up and push the pain as far away as possible. When I stood back up, I took in the sight of Tony sitting on a stool next to a workbench, barely lit by the light of a small lamp. He gazed around the dimly lit room, all while I gazed at him, and the vibrations became more and more powerful, almost like when I first met her.

“Freeze!” I heard the small but strong voice coming from the doorway Tony and I had just come through. Suddenly, the vibration stopped, and I felt the serenity wash over me. The boy was small and looked frail with golden hair that melted into strands of brown and green eyes, “don’t move,” he ordered, pointing the contraption in his hands at Tony.

I glanced over at my companion and noticed that he had his hands raised as a sign of surrender, and I wondered if my help was necessary against such a small opponent. Tony sighed, “You got me. Nice potato gun,” he complimented the young boy.

The small child looked up at me, and I couldn’t help but smile down at him, easing his nerves slightly. If I had been able to touch him, I could’ve calmed his nerves with a bit of focus, but I knew better than to reach out to a scared child. I wanted to help him, not traumatize him, and the situation we were in was traumatizing enough. He looked afraid as he gripped his “potato gun” that he would use for protection against us-the intruders; however, the moment I smiled at him, I watched as his fingers loosened on the barrel and trigger, and his lips curled up the slightest bit, “who are you?”

I knelt down to the floor, getting down onto his level and showing him that I wasn’t a threat. His breathing became slow and steady as he looked me over a few times, taking in the differences between myself and other people he had come into contact with, “my name is Eva, and you are?” I asked.

“Harley,” he answered politely, his green eyes flickering between mine, “why are you dressed like that?” he asked, lowering his makeshift weapon and gesturing at my armor.

I smiled at his innocent question, and I knew there was no way around it. I didn’t have to tell him I was an Asgardian, but I couldn’t lie to him either. I knew that the vibrations I had been feeling were because of the life force of the child in front of me, “where I’m from, this is what we wear to protect ourselves in battle, so when I leave home, I wear something similar to protect myself from other worthy opponents I may meet along the way,” I said, explaining it to him as thoroughly as possible without telling him outright where I was from.

His eyes continued to scan my body until they caught sight of the hilt of the sword over my shoulder, at which point I saw his eyes widen, “you’re the Mother Goddess!” he exclaimed, causing my eyebrows to furrow in confusion. I had never heard that name before, and I wondered if he had me confused with someone else. I glanced over at Tony who just gave me a simple nod of his head, letting me know that Harley was being completely honest, but I had no idea where that name came from. I wasn’t a goddess by any means of the word, so I didn’t know why I would be called that. Seeing my confusion, Harley spoke again, “you fought in New York, right?” he asked

I nodded my head, “I did,” I answered, my voice soft as I recalled some of the worst moments of my life thus far.

“And you’re one of the heroes from that day?” he asked, sweetness in his small voice.

I shook my head, “no, not a hero. I just-”

Tony’s voice from the workbench cut me off, causing both Harley and myself to switch our focus over to him, “yes, a hero,” he corrected me, his eyes connecting with Harley’s, “she nearly gave her life to protect Earth, and the name Earth gave her was fitting,” he said, his eyes flickering over to me, “you have a bit of a reputation here on Earth ever since New York. I was going to explain it to you tonight before we ran into anyone who recognized you, but I wasn’t anticipating any visitors,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“Neither was I,” Harley interjected before glancing back over at me, “the people here gave you that name. We didn’t know who you were, so we just started calling you the Mother Goddess. Some people just call you Mother.”

“Where did it come from?” I asked, wondering why people chose that nickname over all others that may have crossed their minds.

Tony interjected again, and my eyes met his, “because you loved this world so much that you were willing to sacrifice yourself for every living being on it. You were the mother to the population of the world that day, loving every person so unconditionally and so instantaneously. The love the people had for you pulled the population of the Earth together. You saved so many people in New York, even after you had nearly died. You sifted through the rubble to rescue the survivors of buildings that had collapsed, and you stood against the danger to protect us all. You were a mother to the world, and the people here will never forget that,” he explained before the room around me began spinning.

I tried to focus my eyes on him but failed, the feeling being similar to the one I experienced when I was stabbed by Loki in New York. The wound on my abdomen began pulsing, and the pain made me want to scream, but still, I wouldn’t worry Tony with my problems, not when I was on Midgard to assist him with his own. As Harley spoke directly to Tony, my ears began ringing. It felt like that was it, like this was the end. As my chest began to tighten, I hurried out of the shack, mumbling something I couldn’t even hear to Tony. I hoped it was coherent enough to let him know that I just needed some air. If I was going to die, I wanted to do so alone to keep from hurting those who cared about me, and Tony was one of those people. He didn’t deserve to watch me die, not when he had been one of the few people who made me want to live.

Using all the strength I had, I stumbled out of the shack and out into the woods once more before falling to my knees. My body couldn’t hold itself upright as the pain flashed through my body over and over again, as if the wound itself was trying to light my very soul on fire. I fell to the forest floor, grunting in pain through gritted teeth. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to will away the pain, desperately pulling as much air into my lungs as possible, wanting to taste the sweetness of life before the pain took me completely. The wound grew warmer and warmer, my skin feeling as if it was decaying around it. Nothing could have prepared me for the pain-nothing.

“Take them...please,” I heard a familiar voice in the distance, and just as quickly as the pain and panic arrived, it disappeared completely. When I opened my eyes, I gazed upon the scene in front of me. I was in the throne room on Asgard. For a moment, I wondered what was happening. Was I dead? Was I dreaming? I gazed out at the scene before me. Odin was seated on the throne, younger than he was when I knew him, but still beyond his prime. Frigga stood beside his throne, graceful as always. My father-Aaldir-stood on the other side of Odin as one of the Allfather’s most trusted advisors. Father looked much younger without a single grey hair upon his head. Before them stood a woman with her back turned to me. Black hair fell in wild waves across her back, and I sensed a familiarity in her even though I couldn’t see her face. It felt as if I knew her, like I could feel her very presence in my soul even in the vision. She sniffled, and my mind twisted as I remembered the dream I had, running through the the field.

“Why should I do anything you ask of me?” Odin barked out, using his one good eye to glare at the woman before him. I watched as Frigga winced at the harshness in his tone-something she often did when I confronted him about Loki.

The mystery woman’s body shook, and I sensed her fear, “I have nowhere else to take them. You are my last hope,” she cried, and I felt my heart twisting in pain for the poor woman. A soft cry confirmed what I had been thinking, what I hoped had not been true. A child. She was asking for him to take in her children, and I had a feeling I knew who it was, but I was too terrified to even say her name. She was the mistress of the night, the collector of life, the absence of light. I didn’t know why I was having these visions or if they were anything for me to think about further.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?” Odin hissed, causing my body to seize. While I knew this was only in my mind, it was becoming harder and harder every moment not to lose myself. I stood up from the ground and walked toward the throne. My footsteps were so soft against the hard floor, they made no sound in the throne room.

“To help two defenseless children,” the woman answered, strength in her soft voice. Every word she spoke made a wave of serenity wash over me. I was not afraid, nor did I tremble like I usually did when Thor would tell me the tales about the mysterious entity, “do not think I’m asking this favor for myself; I am asking this for their sake. They will only know pain and suffering should they stay with me-they will only know fear.”

Odin stood from his throne but didn’t step down the stairs to be on level ground with her. I frowned as he spoke, “you come to Asgard, burden my throne room with your filth, and ask me to take the children of a demon like you. You ask me to humiliate my home and my people, to tarnish my name-”

She cut him off, her voice just as powerful as before. She was not a weak-willed woman, and I could tell that just from hearing her speak. Looking at it from the outside, it reminded me of how I spoke to Odin a few times in the past, especially when he refused to show Loki any mercy. While I felt her heart filling with sorrow and a diminishing hope, she didn’t falter as she fought on behalf of the children in her arms, “I ask you to protect children who belong here. A child is not responsible for the mistakes of their parent. They should not be held accountable for either of our decisions,” she explained as I continued to close the space between us, desperately wanting to see her face to confirm her identity.

Odin grumbled, his beard failing to conceal his frown of disdain. As he turned his back on the woman and sat back down on the golden throne, he let out a deep breath, “if you are so eager to pass them off into my care, you should know that I will treat them with little dignity. The offspring of Death and a serpent could never be trusted, let alone welcomed, in my home,” he hissed, his voice low and powerful. My eyes widened as he confirmed her identity. I heard the familiar sharpness in his tone, but he had no problem cutting her down-a mother only wishing to save her children, “leave them there on the floor, and I will have my guards take them to the dungeons where they will spend the rest of their lives.”

Just as Death began crying once more, burying her face into the cloth that swaddled her infant children, Frigga stepped forward, glaring at her husband, “you will do no such thing!” she admonished him, her voice piercing through the room as she stepped down to the floor Death stood upon, drawing nearer and nearer to to heartbroken intruder. Odin could do nothing but sit in a stunned silence as Frigga showed mercy to the same woman he had just been so cruel to, “bring them to me,” Frigga instructed her in a calm voice.

Death obeyed the commands of the queen, walking slowly over to her, and I waited with baited breath as she whispered words of love into the ear of the first child before placing him or her gently into the open arms of Frigga, the woman I would come to know as my mother. She was the closest I had to one growing up, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. The first child was indistinguishable, beautiful but strong with piercing green eyes like the colors of spring all in one. Then, Death held up the second child, a girl with eyes more brilliant than emeralds, a green that matched the colors of spring. Her eyes were without imperfections. No other colors dared to taint the purity of that green. It was the same baby from the first vision I had of Death, but that time, I had the cold feeling I knew who it was.

My heart pounded in my chest as the entity of Death raised the child to her face, nuzzling her cheek against the smooth skin of the baby. I heard sniffles coming from Death, a woman I always believed was too cold to feel any emotion at all. She was the keeper of the dead, the bringer of the end-everything I was against. While I understood that death was a part of life, that all things would someday be reborn, she represented the absence of life itself. However, in that moment, seeing her cradling the small child so lovingly, I realized that I had been wrong, that every living being was capable of some form of emotion. Her cries broke my heart, as did it break the heart of the child in her arms, and I watched as the baby cried,

“Goodbye, Eva,” Death whispered, and my breaking heart stopped. My breath hitched in my throat as my greatest fear was just confirmed. It hadn’t been my own delusion that caused me to see the reflection of the child’s eyes in my own, the color mirroring that of mine. It wasn’t my mind playing cruel tricks on me when the heart of the child broke the same way mine did. Was it real, though? Was the vision just a part of the madness that arose due to the wound that left me feverish and disoriented? Was she...where I belonged? I couldn’t bring myself to think of such a thing. I valued life above all else, so it was impossible for Death to be...mine. She spoke again before my mind could fall further into the delirium, “I love you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever given. Loving you was my greatest weakness, and leaving you is my greatest failure,” she whispered, her voice low and soothing as she rubbed the back of the small child.

“Leaving her here to protect her is the best thing you can do as a mother. Go. I will see to it that your children are cared for,” Frigga promised as she took the infant into her arms, cradling both of them the same way Death had been. Aaldir stepped down from the side of the throne and took the little girl...me. He cradled her close and closed the space between himself and the cosmic entity each one of us would meet at some point. Reaching out to her, he caressed her cheek, and just as he always did with me, he wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb.

As I drew closer to her, standing directly behind her, I wished to wrap her in my arms. Even if this was all a hallucination with no meaning, her pain threatened to tear my very soul apart. As I felt the tears rising to my eyes, her soft voice began singing that familiar melody, the one I could remember all throughout my childhood but didn’t know where it came from, “I wish to stop time and stare at the stars, for just one more moment with you. Now stars shine brightest wherever you are, and they will shine on me no more,” she sang before turning around. Black eyes met mine, and black tears continued to stream down her cheeks. Her hand came up to caress my cheek, cold fingers wiping away the tears from my eyes. Just as I leaned into her touch, desperate for that connection, I found myself back in the woods.

Alone again.

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canadiankazz · 6 years ago

Text

The First Time - an L.A. By Night Fanfic

I received a positive response to my inquiry about people being interested in my new L.A. by Night fic, so here we go. Because I got my start on fanfiction dot net back in the day, I’m going to give my warnings thusly:

I obviously don’t lay claim to any of the characters involved. This fanfiction is part one of several, maybe as many as five parts, depending on when I run out of ideas. It is intended for a mature audience, and it is the beginning of what will end up being a pretty heavy multi-part Jasper/Annabelle story. SPOILERS for the end of campaign 1, but not for the one-shots. This is going to go off canon pretty quickly, so consider this an AU. Written before the premiere of Season 2.

Annabelle is going to try to help Jasper with his problems in finding food. He reluctantly accepts her help. They both have a better time than they thought they would.

Very, very special thanks to @cravatfiend, for their encouragement, ideas and enthusiastic reactions to reading the first drafts.You are the weird person into weird things. I dragged you into this fandom and we are both hopelessly down the rabbit hole now, friendface. ;)

First posted Jan. 11, 2019.

Now can also be found at my Ao3.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The First Time

When Jasper excused himself early from their coterie meeting, Annabelle was the only one who followed him. Though Victor asked if anything was wrong, Jasper brushed him off. He was fine. He didn't like Victor or Nelli involving themselves in his problems. They both said they understood him, and perhaps they did, but despite their shared experiences, it was only a surface level of understanding. Other than sharing their already mutual coterie spaces, neither of them had done anything else to help him.

Annabelle caught him just before he got to the elevator, just before he disappeared.

“Jasper, are you okay?”

There was something in her tone that made him stop, or maybe it was because she had followed him and she was the only one making an effort. Normally, he did not like being followed. That was his job, not the other way around. Tonight, however, he was feeling more vulnerable than usual. He hated it, but he knew that he had to do something about it. He glanced at her over his shoulder and put on a fake smile.

“Sure, I'm fine.”

Annabelle saw through it instantly. She thought he looked awful, like what he did before his early and frantic departure from the Highland. It wasn't his physical appearance, nothing could be done about that, but it was something in the way he moved, in his tone of voice. There was something very important bothering him. She glared at him critically. “No, you're not,” she said softly.

He sighed.

“When was the last time you ate?” Annabelle asked, zeroing in on the issue.

“I can take care of myself.”

He went to leave, to continue to brush her off, but she was not having it. She closed the distance between them and put her hand on his elbow. His muscles were tense, like a bowstring that's been pulled back. He didn't pull away from her.

“Jasper, I... I know you can take care of yourself, but one of the things that has helped people survive as long as they have is others helping them when they needed it. Please, let me help you.”

His icy, inhuman eyes met her deep, dark, emotional ones. There was a beat where he weighed his options. She was stubborn, one of the most stubborn Kindred he had ever met. She was also still kind, still had the streak of humanity that he had all but lost a long time ago.

“Alright,” he relented. “Come with me. We'll talk.”

Her eyes lit up a little with this forward progress. “Okay, where are we going?”

“We'll go... back to my home,” he said reluctantly. “It's private.” He glanced back to the board room. The others could be listening in.

“Okay,” she nodded. She trusted him, but while they were in the elevator, she sent Victor and Nelli a text to tell them she was with Jasper and they were going to talk. She felt a little guilty about doing so. It made her feel like she was going on a dangerous date and texting someone about it just in case things went south and she needed the cavalry to come in and get her, or someone to tell the cops about the last person she was with if she went missing. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Jasper was her friend, and she had no doubt that if he really had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. Jasper was invisible now in the elevator, but she knew he would have seen her text.

“I can call an Uber,” she offered. She had a mental image of Jasper sitting perfectly still and invisible in the back seat while she chatted with and distracted the driver.

“No,” came Jasper's disembodied voice in her ear. She suppressed the urge to flinch. “We'll walk. It's not that far.”

She nodded and started walking. She did her best to ignore the shivers Jasper had given her down her spine.

They left campus and headed for the L.A. River. Once they were more or less alone and definitely out of ear shot, Annabelle felt it safe to be able to talk to him out loud, but softly.

“Jasper?”

“Yes?”

His voice was coming from her left. She glanced towards him, swishing her hair out of the way, but of course, she couldn’t see anything.

“You never answered my question. When was the last time you ate?”

“I haven't really... not since Tara.”

Annabelle blinked in surprise and mild alarm. “But that was weeks ago!”

“I know.”

“But, you...” She was suddenly much more afraid. His Beast, his hunger... it must be so bad, but he was only just now starting to show any sign of it. She admired the restraint, the willpower he had been quietly using all this time.

“I ate a stray dog the other night,” he admitted, “I haven't found another solution yet, but I will. Don't worry.”

“You ate a dog?! Of course I'm going to worry, Jasper,” Annabelle snapped. “You're telling me you haven't eaten in weeks! I – argh!” She made a sound of frustration and sighed. Anger wasn't the answer. “This has gone on long enough Jasper.”

“What are you going to do? Kidnap someone for me to feed on?”

“No! God, no! I... why don't you feed on me instead?”

She had said it without really thinking. She stopped walking and got the vague feeling that he had stopped too.

“No,” she heard him say.

“Well... why not?”

“Because... I don't want to hurt you.”

She hated that she couldn't see him. “You won't hurt me.”

“I could though. If I lose control, I could kill you.”

“You won't though, Jasper. You've never done that. You're too strong to do that.”

He was quiet for several moments. She wondered briefly if he had left. She tried to keep her voice steady. “Are you still here?”

“Yeah,” he said very softly. She didn't think he had moved based on where his voice came from.

A thought surfaced in her brain. This wasn't the first time she had thought this, but it was the first time she was going to ask about it out loud.

“Has anyone ever offered themselves to you before? To be fed on, I mean.”

“Let's keep walking.”

She thought she could hear him move, but she wasn't about to let him leave without her. “Jasper-!”

“Come on,” he invited her along. He wanted to walk and talk.

She fell back into step beside him, or so she assumed.

“To answer your question, yes, I have been offered,” Jasper's voice came in hushed tones by her side. “At the Succubus Club, I could have fed and no one would have protested. I've been to other vampire social gatherings and declined to feed there. But that was the others being polite and having to obey social rules. Outside of those circumstances, no. No one has offered themselves to me before. No Kindred, and definitely no mortals.” He chuckled softly. “The little game you were playing on campus before Victor and Nelli and I found you... I can't do that. It's different for me, for Nosferatu in general. We can't...” He sighed quietly, forming his thoughts into words. “We don't tend to get very many opportunities where people are happy for us to feed upon them. Have you ever seen Nelli feed?”

“Yeah. She um... she gets people who want to sit with her and she kisses them and...” Annabelle made a face. It was kind of disgusting.

Jasper chuckled again. “Yeah. I can't feed like that. No one is ever going to want to sit in my lap with champagne.”

Annabelle tried to play it light. “Oh, I don't know... there's a lot of weird people who are into weird things out there.”

“It's nice of you to say so, but none of those people have found me yet. To be honest, I don't know what I'd do if they did.”

Annabelle smiled a little. They walked in silence for a few minutes. They were close to the river now. She found her thoughts circling back around to her biggest anxieties about choice and consent. “So... you've never gotten consent before you fed?”

“No,” he said quietly, reluctantly, truthfully. “I wish I could though. As I said, that's not an option for most of my kind. Being a Nosferatu is like... hard mode vampire. We don't get the luxury of having people want to be in our company, and most of us aren't wealthy enough to pay people to be with us. People see us and scream and run, or scream and attack, unless they have been mind controlled, but in that case, are they still giving their consent?”

She chewed that over in her mind. It had dreadful implications.

They were quiet again until they were almost at Jasper's front door. Victor had paid to get the door replaced so it would be just as secure as it had been before. It was a nice gesture, but it didn't change the fact that the location of Jasper's home was still known to them, and that he wished it wasn't so.

“My offer still stands, by the way,” Annabelle said at the door. “You can feed on me if you want to, just to get you through the night, just until you... can find another option. Please, let me help you, Jasper.”

He become visible suddenly. His hand was on the work hatch-like door and he was pulling it open. He paused and looked at her, and she was relieved to be able to see his face. He seemed deep in thought, considering his options once again. As she watched, she saw him flinch and growl to himself. She knew then that this was his version of talking to his Beast. They all did it, Annabelle knew, some more vocally than others. She waited to see what he would do, what, if anything he would say in reply.

“Okay,” Jasper said at last.

Part of her was surprised, and almost hadn't expected him to say that. “What?”

“Okay. I'll do it, but... there are conditions.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “I want you to be safe.” He glanced around suddenly, up and down the river. They were alone, but he still seemed spooked. “Let's go inside.”

She nodded and followed him. He held the door open for her, and made sure it was shut tight behind them. He led her through the twisting path down to his living area, through the secret passages. He moved with utter confidence. This was his space. She wasn't hesitant, but she had to admit she was a little nervous.

“This is the first time I've had someone in here... who I've invited,” Jasper said as they emerged into his workshop room. Annabelle saw that Tara's cage was in the corner. She swallowed.

“Why is that still there?”

“The cage? It's very difficult to take that apart. I built it to be very... durable.” he smiled to himself and Annabelle could see his fangs. He was remembering something amusing, something she probably wouldn’t find amusing at all. Her nervousness grew, and doubt bloomed inside her. She found herself involuntarily taking a step back. Jasper saw her reaction and frowned. It was his own fears and doubts coming back to the surface. He hoped that saying yes to Annabelle to let her help him wasn't a mistake.

“Are you going to use the cage again?” she asked him softly.

“I hope I won't have to, but...” he shrugged. She took his unsaid meaning. It's still there if he needs it.

He moved past the cage, towards the pivoting door that lead to his living room. He beckoned Annabelle to follow. He correctly assumed that Annabelle would be glad to be out of the cage room.

Annabelle found his living room was more or less as it was when she, Victor, Nelli and Strikes the werewolf had been through. Some of the books on the table had changed, but the furniture was still sparse. Jasper turned on the lamp and gestured to a chair, offering it to her to sit. She did so. It was fairly comfortable, but in an inexpensive way. Far from any kind of plush leather seating that Victor and Nelli couldn’t seem to do without. Annabelle found her gaze drifting back to the closed metal door on the other side of the room that lead ultimately down to the labyrinth. She swallowed, and tried not to shiver thinking of that place. She forced herself to look at his painted landscapes instead. It was beautiful and sad, to think of someone who spent so much time in the dark tunnels under a modern concrete and glass city to want to admire green, rolling hills instead. Maybe that was why he liked to live near the park as well, she thought.

Jasper sat in another chair near her. He seemed suddenly awkward, unused to pleasant company in his personal space. He pulled his hood back, exposing the black veins that crossed his bald scalp and disappeared down the back of his neck. It was his equivalent of letting his hair down, she supposed, now that they were in the comfort of his sanctum. Annabelle caught herself wondering if the whole rest of his body was darkly veined like that... and surprised herself by some small curious bit of her wanting to see his torso without the black hoodie.

“So, um...” she said, trying to break the awkward tension.

“So...” Jasper said at the same time.

They laughed. Tension broke.

“So... feeding?” Annabelle asked. She wasn't so nervous as to want to back out on her offer to help Jasper.

“Right.” Jasper licked his fangs as he collected his thoughts again. Back on track. He leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Are you're still sure you want to do this?”

“I am,” she said with a nod.

Jasper nodded back. “Okay. So, here's how I want it to go. Just... going to lay out a plan here. I'm only going to take enough from you tonight to keep me going for a little while. I don't think that this should be a reoccurring thing between the two of us.”

Annabelle nodded, agreeing and following along.

“I'm not so hungry yet that I'm about to frenzy like I did before,” Jasper continued, “but I don't want it to get to that point, and I know that you don't either, so that's why I'm agreeing to do this, just this once.”

Annabelle nodded again.

He had been looking at her, but his gaze moved down and away. “I don't think that the others need to know about this.”

“Oh, no. No, I agree.”

He looked at her again, sharply. “Ever.” There was a note of warning in his voice now. “We'll never hear the end of it if they do find out.”

“No, I totally agree. I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

Jasper nodded. “And... if you want... you can count me as owing you a favour afterwards. A boon.” He made air quotes around the word 'boon.'

Annabelle's first instinct was to deny him that. “Oh no, I'm not doing this for-”

“Actually, I insist,” Jasper cut her off. “I owe you one. This is... kind of a big deal. Kindred usually don't take feeding from other Kindred lightly.”

Annabelle nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.

Jasper nodded as well, satisfied. “Take off your jacket, please.”

“Um... okay,” Annabelle stripped off her red leather jacket and lay it over the back of her chair. She was wearing a grey T-shirt underneath with an Anime character printed on it. She was still a little nervous, but now it was a little more excited than fearful. She wondered where this excitement came from.

She could see Jasper considering her body in a way she had never seen him look at her before. His eyes drifted over her neck very, very briefly and settled on her hands. He reached one hand for hers. “May I?” His voice was soft. He was nervous too. He wasn't used to getting permission, or having it given.

“Yes,” Annabelle said, steadying her courage. She offered Jasper her hand. He took it and turned it over to expose her wrist. His fingers were long, pale and cold. He looked into her eyes, one last time, one last chance to back out, but she wasn't going to.

Jasper moved. Without letting go of her wrist and hand, he slid off his chair and down onto one knee on the floor in front of her. He was so tall, his limbs so long, that this was a more comfortable height for him to do this from without her having to move from her chair. It was a submissive gesture she wasn't expecting. He exposed his fangs, his terrifying long, gleaming, dangerous canines and with a tenderness that surprised her, sunk them into her wrist.

She gasped at the sudden pain of it and resisted the instinct to pull her hand back. His grip on her hand wasn't at all strong. He was just using one hand to lightly steady her wrist against his mouth. She could pull away at any time if she wanted to end this early.

She gasped again when the pleasure hit a half a second later. Oh, she wasn't expecting that either, not at all. A kind of ecstasy began to cloud her brain. It reminded her oddly of sexual pleasure, of her first time in bed with Elleanor or Mark, but at the same time not quite the same at all. She had a sudden sensational memory, one she had heavily suppressed until now, of an entirely different set of fangs entering her throat and the smell of well-worn black leather. She could feel her Vitae moving down her arm and into Jasper. Her Beast squirmed in her chest. She could feel something delicious and eager coiling down deep inside her lower belly. If her heart could still beat, it would have been hammering away like a rail road piston going full steam. She wondered if his heart would be doing the same if it could, and decided that yes, yes it would be.

In the haze, she managed to notice a few things about Jasper. His eyes were tightly closed while he fed from her, and his free hand, the one not holding hers to his mouth, was clenched in a tense fist. It was as if he were holding an invisible leash, and whatever was at the other end of that leash was straining against it with all its might. She could feel Jasper's lips, his tongue, his fangs and the rest of his teeth on her, violent and a little disgusting but at the same time, so, so gentle.

She realised suddenly that he was holding back with every ounce of his being. He could bite down harder, she could tell he wanted to, but he was resisting. It was intimate and much more... loving than she imagined. She concluded that none of this was how she pictured it would go. She had a sudden urge to touch him, maybe to caress his head, but her other hand was clinging tightly to the arm of the chair and by the time she wrenched her fingers free, Jasper had let her go. What had seemed to last for ten or fifteen minutes was really only a few seconds.

She felt him run his tongue one last time over the wound he had made to seal it closed and he released her arm. She withdrew it slowly back to her chest, staring at him. She was breathing hard, a left over human reaction to the extreme stimulus she just went through. She felt dizzy and light headed and she was glad they had done this with her sitting down, or she feared she may have swooned like some Victorian lady in a too-tight corset. Her hand trembled, just a little.

Jasper was perfectly motionless for a moment, still on one knee, staring up at her. She could see a faint line of red on his lower lip, which he quickly licked away. He seemed to realise the pose he was in, and lowered his other knee and leaned back so he was still on the ground, but a little further away. He didn't want to be further away from her though. He had been expecting this, and was fighting it back. Both he and his Beast wanted to be closer to her, to be consuming her still. Instead, he was giving her space to recover. He watched her, and waited.

“That was..” she panted. She took another moment to collect herself. “That was good,” she exhaled. “I didn't know it would... feel like that.”

Jasper gave a tiny, humble shrug. “There's a reason why most vampire victims stop fighting once they're bitten.” He cocked his head a tiny bit to the side, still watching her, unblinking. “Did you never notice?” Annabelle would have found it creepy before, but now she found it oddly... adorable.

“Yeah, but... wow...”

Jasper made a small sound of amusement. He smirked a tiny bit. “You'll be dizzy, maybe weak for a little while. I tried not to take too much, but... you should probably feed tonight also, if you can.”

Annabelle nodded. “How do you feel?”

“I feel better.”

He certainly looked better, Annabelle thought. A lot better. She told him as such.

“You look better.”

“Thank you,” he said with feeling, “for letting me...” He gestured toward her.

“You're welcome.” She felt pleased inside, more than just the fading ecstasy, at having helped him. She remembered suddenly Tara saying she had felt that way too, but fought to push that out of her mind.

She must have frowned, because Jasper suddenly looked a little worried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just... that was more... it wasn't like what I thought it would be.” Her eyes felt wet and she put a thumb to them to stop any tears before they began.

Jasper moved back onto his chair. “Well,” he said softly, putting a long, pale hand on her knee. He was suddenly more willing to touch her. She wondered if the blood had anything to do with it and knew it likely did. She also noticed that she did not mind the touch, not in the slightest. “It's over now, Annabelle, and we don't have to ever do this again if you don't want to. Thank you again for tonight though.”

She put a hand on his. It was the one he had been sucking from such a short time ago. She smiled at him. “You're welcome,” she repeated. She hesitated, looking at their hands together. The cloud of pleasure had lifted now, but it left an invisible memory on her body and soul. She realised that she would probably not mind at all if they did this again. “Can I ask a weird question?”

Jasper chuckled. He hadn't pulled back from her touch yet and he was a little surprised at himself at that. He hadn't been quite like this with any of the other Kindred he had fed upon in the past. Maybe actually liking the person made all the difference. “Sure. Ask.”

“What do I taste like?” Annabelle asked shyly. Her nose wrinkled adorably. This was just this side of taboo, she knew, but she was so very curious.

Jasper smiled and she saw his fangs again. They were clean. She felt an odd little ache in her wrist. “Are you worried that you don't taste good?”

“No! No, I'm just... curious?”

“You taste good,” he assured her. He almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

“Better than a dog?”

He laughed out loud, fangs flashing. “Yes, Annabelle, better than a dog. Animals taste... nowhere near as good as other Kindred do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Feeding from you...” he shook his head. He didn't want to elaborate too much on how fucking good her Vitae had tasted, and it had been good. He couldn’t taste any of the terror he had on the others. Terror was delicious, but this was different. He didn't want to scare Annabelle and he was relieved that he hadn't, not really. She had been nervous and excited... in more ways than one.“I could taste your emotions.”

“Oh... you could?” Annabelle squeaked.

He nodded, amused by her reaction.

She put her hand to her mouth, drawing away from him for a moment. “Ah... no, that's cool,” she assured him. “I kind of enjoyed it, so...”

He was very well aware that she did. “Yeah.” He pulled his hand back.

Another little moment of awkwardness set in. “Well... what now?”

“You should probably go home,” Jasper advised. “Feed a little if you want. Don't go using any crazy powers tonight. Please understand, I'm not kicking you out, it's just...” he ran his tongue over his fangs and Annabelle was again finding herself surprised at how oddly aroused that made her feel. She tried to shake it off. It was probably just because the intimate moment they had shared was still so recent. At least, she hoped that was why. “It's just that I think you should have some 'you' time tonight,” Jasper concluded.

Annabelle nodded. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” She stood up slowly and yes, she was a little light headed. Jasper rose too, and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. He held up her red jacket for her to slide her arms into, like a gentleman, and she did.

He walked her back to his front door. She didn't even look at the cage on the way past it this time. She was only watching him. At the threshold, they paused.

“See you tomorrow night?” she asked.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow night. And remember... this is just between us, right?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

In a stupid rom-com, she realised, this would be a moment for a kiss.

Instead, she pushed the door open. Jasper lingered back in the shadows, but she could see him give her a wave when she looked back. She waved back and made sure the door was closed securely behind her.

She realised she had a text from Victor asking if all was well with her and Jasper. She bit her lower lip in a sudden urge to laugh out loud. She confirmed that she was fine, that Jasper was fine, and they'll see him tomorrow. Then she went home.

#l.a. by night #la by night #vampire the masquerade #jasper/annabelle #annabelle/jasper #fanfic #fanfiction #does this ship have a name yet? because if not i am hereby calling it jaspabelle #times jasper fed from annabelle

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bonfire-at-the-crossroads · 2 years ago

Text

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius.

(That is actually the name of the water-dispensing machine…)

Im going to take a shot at what ever-da-fuck-it-was that put me in the hospital yesterday afternoon. It’s possibly one of the weirdest events of an already weird life - but here goes.

Begin at the beginning. Many years ago I had a rough patch with pneumonia that just wouldn’t give up. Several rounds of antibiotics, and it still clung on. I was prescribed BIAXIN, another antibiotic which when I took the first pill - I had no problems. The SECOND pill?

Long story short - slurred speech, hallucinations (I watched things crawl in and out of the hospital ceiling tiles which I hadn’t seen since the ‘60’s, if you get my drift) and I spent the night out of my head, while the doctors tried to figure out WHY. Apparently in extremely rare cases (.0001) hallucinations can be a side effect of the drug. I HATE being medically interesting, and rare things have occurred over my lifetime. So yeah….that happened.

I went out to clear away some of the bushes, trees, vines and brambles which have over-run the field across the road - about 11:30 yesterday morning. Gloves, goggles, clippers and saw - I waded into the worst patch which is obscuring our view of the lake in the distance. I’ve done this quite a few times over the years, and it is fierce shit that just simply never stops growing.

I get scratched up from thorns, branches whack me in the face, brambles and moss from the eternally soggy ground - it’s an immersive experience.every time.

THIS time?

I was working away, and my mind drifted along as it usually does - but it became increasingly difficult to concentrate. I was distracted by random thoughts, peculiar impressions, and became aware of people I couldn’t quite see, off to my left. Another dimension? They were just out of sight, but there seemed to be another world that I could ALMOST see out of my peripheral vision. They were RIGHT THERE, with light and thought and intent - like a door I could turn and walk through.

I thought it was weird, but maybe I just needed to focus on the work I was doing? Then another world opened up to my right. More people, a young man and my aunt Margie - just out of sight…(Marge has been dead for 30+ years now)

I thought that I should probably go home, and thought I had started to walk back. But found myself a few minutes later, still working along the line of boggy trees that run at the bottom of the field.

OK. THAT IS IT - I’m going back. Picked up my tools and waded back to the gate. With a lighted world of people and motion on either side of me - I came in, went to the bathroom and chewed up four aspirin. I have had embolisms in the past, and this was presenting as a possible stroke. Stared in the mirror to look for facial slumping, clenched my fists over and over to look for weakness on one side. - and NOTHING.

Time to tell Brian.

Apparently I scared the bah-jeezus out of him, apologizing and trying to describe my current predicament.

The decision is made to head to Sligo and pay a visit to Care-Docs. The ride was surreal - nothing was making sense. I was aware of the lighted dimension with the other people to my left, and random thoughts played out as if this was all tangible. Aunt Margie felt like a kind and reassuring presence off to my right - the road slid by as we dipped and turned along the winding road to find help.

Care-Docs took me in right away, and apparently I was repeating myself? Examined and questions asked - we got handed a letter to give to the ER at Sligo Hospital with “suspected Stroke” writ large at the top. I felt disembodied, concerned about Brian having to deal with this crazy situation, and off we went.

Admitted into the mysteries of the back rooms lined with folks in various stages of pain, despair and disability laid out on gurneys along both sides of the hallways - we were shown to our own gurney to wait for further instructions.

A port was inserted into my left arm, a wrist band with my name was glued around my right. We waited. I tried to stop seeing the lights to my left, and to try and close the door to that “other reality” - as it seemed to be making everybody nervous. Things were very odd. I sat on the edge of the trolley and tried to separate the visions into where I AM - away from WHAT I WAS SEEING.

I kept being reminded of the BIAXIN incident - as I have suffered hallucinations a couple of times over what is now a long life - always triggered by a substance or extremely high childhood fever. Hasn’t happened often - but it WILL clear your sinuses when it does.

As time passed - I began to come home to myself. Brian said I stopped repeating stuff, and began to return. The lights on either side of me dimmed, aunt Margie went back to wherever she came from - and I began to inhabit the here-n-now.

A wonderful nurse brought Bri a cup of tea and chatted about whatever had brought us into this predicament…we began with “she was clearing the field of trees and bracken”

She then told us about a cottage she had inherited in Leitrim which is sadly infested with Japanese Bindweed. Toxic, fiendish stuff….

And suddenly - things sort of fell together. Did I somehow or other come in contact with some sort of spores? Some toxic leaves from something growing out there in the bog? I am quite scratched up through my leggings and along my wrists where my gloves and shirt cuff gapped…? Did I breath in something hallucinatory?! I was in it up to my eyebrows - hacking away as you do, when I became aware of other people and the light from a different reality. I THOUGHT I was heading back home, only to find myself a bit later on - still working at the bottom of the field - when my aunt Margie showed up.

Jeezus H CHRIST.

I came back to myself slowly throughout the day. The doors closed, the people went back to wherever they came from - and I passed all of my x-Ray, pee-in-a-cup, neurological tests with flying colors. I had the unique experience of being interviewed by a very young (and quite nervous) psychologist - who asked crazy questions and made notes on a stack of forms. Apparently hallucinations are an indicator of craziness? By the time he got around to the interview - I was back on earth and completely lucid.

I passed.

Home again, jiggedy-jigg. One for the books. I HATED EVERY MINUTE OF YESTERDAY. Losing oneself is terrifying. How folks willingly seek that sensation out with either drugs or alcohol is beyond me.

We will simply never know what happened. As a working theory? Maybe? As for now - happy to inhabit the singular reality of my own life, and hope to keep the other doors tightly locked.

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oflgtfol · 7 years ago

Text

bc i cant stop thinking abt that dream.. im gonna elaborate on it because it was so detailed and so long and felt so real

so it started off with me in a small library but like, it was so cramped and the lights were off. bookshelves were everywhere, and most were like only waist high? strange adults were everywhere, standing against the walls/shelves or sitting in the aisles. all had their hands cuffed behind their backs or in front of them and they all had like, tape or something over their mouths. but there were some adults among them in bullet proof vests and with guns in their hands. i dont know the situation like i dont even think i acknowledged it in the dream but from context clues im p sure it was like a hostage situation

so im in there sneaking around, in the back of my mind i just Know that my parents and my brother are also in the room also sneaking thru the aisles. all the hostage adults are staring at me like, acknowledging that they know im here to help rescue them. so after a few close calls around corners almost getting caught by the gunmen i get to a somewhat open area, meanig that its still cramped but its a small square between bookshelves with a table and 2 chairs. theres a TON of hostages squeezed into this area. i knew that that was the objective, that i had to get there

so me and my family burst forward and the gunmen spot us, but the hostages all help us overwhelm the guys. the gunmen are shooting blindly into the crowd, aiming mostly for me and my family, and SOMEHOW everybody else dodges it but me. literally it went in slow motion and i saw it like in third person, watching it come towards me and i was like “watch it hit me lmao. oh fuck its actually gonna hit me”

so i get shot in my stomach during all this and the pain just, it wasnt all that bad really? like it felt like uhm. getting hit with a water balloon actually (i was just in a water fight yesterday and now upon realizing this its like.... did that contribute to this dream....) so then its all clear like the bad guys are defeated, it gets kinda blurry at this point but i know in some disembodied way that i told my parents after everything wrapped up when they were asking if everyone was okay that i was hit, and they like, didnt care. i was like “HEY i got SHOT in the stomach!” and theyre like k and it took them foreverrrrrrr to get me medical attention. and i wasnt even.. bleeding outwardly? so i was so worried about internal bleeding because like HEY i have a bullet in me so i must be bleeding somewhere like,,, come on lmao

the next like visual thing i remember is in the hospital. its been a while since like, i woke up so this is kinda blurry too but i remember being put into a wheelchair by some nurses.. ive been in a wheelchair only once and that was in 2nd grade but this one i was allowed to use like, on my own, so it threw me off? and at this point i was like, fuck, i’ve been shot before when i was little. i’ve done this before. i had to go into surgery and everything. but it was all vague flashes i could barely remember it but it felt a lot like when i remember the major things from my childhood that i just COMPLETELY forgot about for so long, like speech therapy? like i had gotten injured from a gun when i was less than ten years old and i just, forgot about that? i was like HOW did i forget about this

so i was already in the hospital at this point but for the one room, i wheeled up to the entrance and it felt kinda like the 11th/12th grade cafeteria entrance that i use in school?? a small double door, blank walls, kinda dark, empty, and there was a nurse checking us in. at this point i was surrounded by all my classmates from my ap lang class, or maybe not ap lang in particular idk since like all the ap kids are mostly grouped together despite class? idk man. but my classmates were literally all fine idk why they were there? they werent even there for checkups or anything (disregarding the fact that you dont get a check up at a hospital you get that at a normal doctors office..) so i was there in my literal wheelchair and the nurse was like “wait your turn!!” she was really snooty it was annoying i was like, word for word, “uhm HELLO i have a GSW in my abdomen!!!!!!” and my one classmate finally spoke up as he was being checked in he was like “uh hey brot is here and like, got shot, so i think she should go first lmao?” so the nurse finally smiled at me and admitted me in

and it led to this small cramped room where they scanned your entire body for every single thing wrong with it adn they displayed it on a board where everyone could see, including my classmates, and i was like ohh my god. oh my god. the nurses were like “hm you could eat better but overall you’re in good health!” and i was like DUDE thats embarrassing i dont want everybody to see all my minute issues and LIKE I AM LITERALLY INJURED I HAVE A BULLET IN MY STOMACH WHY ARE YOU DISCUSSING MY DIET WHEN THERE ARE MORE PRESSING ISSUES...

so finally we go into the actual room and its this giant giant mostly empty room, im remembering this room from my first go at this from when i was a kid. theres a table in the middle thats pretty big but has.. no chairs around it... but theres puzzles and weird bookmark things scattered around on it to keep you occupied, and then theres a single table far removed from everything else, only long enough for a body and slightly wider, and theres one identical to that on the other side of the room. and i know from when i was a kid that those are for surgeries and like, i KNOW this but i was like, wrow thats unsanitary lmao

so i go to the table in the middle because thats where you’re supposed to wait till you’re called for surgery, but im so ANXIOUS because like.. its surgery... and now im remembering more of it from when i was a kid like im remembering going into it, waking up from it... my classmates are all sitting on the table like its some casual after school thing, theyre all talking

and then i remember from the first surgery. i remember the surgery itself. i apparently wasnt put under for it. i was conscious during it. i was numbed out obviously but like, i was AWAKE, and that makes me SO fucking scared for my upcoming surgery. like, enough that some of my classmates sense that im getting more and more anxious so they start shoving the bookmarks in my face, and the bookmarks are like the weird ones from the library irl that have quotes on them, and like i cant even read any because im just so anxious like im keeled over in the wheelchair so anxious about it, and the fact that my classmates are trying to interact with me during this is just making it worse like i APPRECIATE trying to make me feel better but i CANNOT read right now

and like, i was never called for surgery? im sitting there until the sun sets, but i only know that because i eventually leave the room just needing to do SOMETHING and the hospital lobby, for all the people waiting for patients? is empty and the sky outside is the dark blue kind of like, twilight

i really dont know how this dream suddenly turns, like i cannot remember the breaching moment and idk if its because its been almost 12 hours since i woke from the dream or if there even WAS a breaching moment

but the next thing i know is that me and shannen are running (me wheeling furiously) along the top of some like, wall. and the hospital looming in front of us is now some sort of fortified citadel, and we’re on one of the defensive walls around it, theres towers and spires everywhere in the distance around the citadel. and theres fucking. ANGELS attackign the place. the angels are classic white dress wearing, harp playing, type creatures but their eyes are all closed and black tears are running down their faces, and literally everything else about them is white. the dresses are this weathered white, their skin is weathered white (like, like marble but without the darker lines yknow?), and their eyes + tears are the darkest things on them so they stand OUT. and their mouths are flat lines, also black like as if its like, lineart or something yknow? like their faces look like masks but they arent. they have harps in one hand and then LONG ass swords in their other hands and they are fuckign terrifying

so me and shannen are outside of the main area of attack and we stumble upon this part of the wall thats like, collapsed, and theres a fucking OCEAN next to the citadel. so the stones that have fallen into the water, theres some sort of chariot on it with the same kind of look as the angels, white + black accent kinda look to it. the chariot is low lying and theres a figure laying over it, collapsed, reaching forward at nothing almost like a zombie trying to move? and he.. god i wanna say it was icarus but i really dont know because i feel, deep down that his name started with an e but i have no idea what dude it would be then bc i know it was a guy from greek mythology somehow but IDK WHO... so this guy also has the same vibe as the angels but his face is like, a fuckign mess, like it looked like he was melting (maybe thats why i wanna say icarus idk) but the melted parts were black, plus the black eyes (whcih were semi open) and the black tears and his mouth was kinda open in a silent wail (also black). i wanna say he had black hair too but idk maybe the whole black mass on his overall head was just the melting.. and this melted black liquid is strewn all over the chariot and the stone block thats barely out of the water. and out of the water, behind the chariot, all the angels were bursting forward and heading to the citadel like as if it was the Angel Spawn Point

IDK it was such a weird fuckign sight it looked like a fallen angel but i just knew deep down that it was some guy from greek mythology but I DONT KNOW WHO IT WOULD BE especially with a name starting with e..!!!

anyway yeah i woke up then. the whole angel sequence was super short compared to the rest of the dream, but it was more on par with what i normally dream than the rest? like i dont recall ever having guns in my dreams except for maybe one dream in middle school that was like,,,,, nuclear apocalypse type thing......... and never have i ever been like, INJURED like that in a dream? i’ve died in dreams yeah but ive never been like.. shot.. the closest thing i can think of was that one weird borderline nightmare earlier this year where i died of internal bleeding in school due to school negligence..... hm!

like idk this was just such a weird dream i normally have very very wild dreams with a more fantasy element to them, and the mundane ones are just me in school or on tumblr, like ive never had like, an ACTION MOVIE kinda thing??

and it felt SO REAL like when i woke up i literally thought that i had some sort of repressed gun related traumatic event from my childhood that i was only uncovering now and it was only when i realized that i was in bed and not like, at the hospital with a gun wound in my stomach, that i was like oh haha no thats not real

#gun violence #the bread has spoken #i should just start a tag for ym dreams lmfao more often than not i post abt them here #OK WAIT NOW I WANNA SAY THAT GUY WAS EREBUS BUT I THINK IM JUST SAYING THAT BC LIKE.. BLACK TEARS.. DARKNESS... IDK #IDK.. IDK!!!!#i dont even think its anybody in particular but in my dream i had a specific name #i saw the guy and i was like oh shit its ____#maybe i did call him icarus. maybe i did call him erebus #but for either one its not like.. accurate irl but in my dream? whoever it was i called him. it was supposed to be actually him #my dreams

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