#it hit so close to home I cannot even comprehend the shock and emotion I am feeling rn

[reel-fear]

just saw the new spiderverse and I am a changed person now... I cannot express how good it was... Somehow it surpassed the original and the original was my favorite movie of all time. This is gonna be fantastic, I Know It Will

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen ) werewolf sex, ruts, knotting etc

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.  ]

Chapter 5

I found myself breathing through my nose, woozy and incoherent as the doctor fussed over me. 

“This is looking pretty damn bad, Dr. Jeon...” He was muttering while Jungkook sat next to me gripping my hands. My throat went dry at the words, fear making my heart jackrabbit against my ribs. 

“The bullet’s hit pretty close to artery near the clavicle, she’s lost a whole lot of blood. “

“Seo Joon’s going to prison for this... “ Jungkook swore, stroking my palm as I tried to stay conscious. 

“Tell me I don’t have to stay in the hospital for a long time...” I begged, desperate. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“You got shot... It’s not a playground scrape, Mirae....” Jungkook sounded exhausted. 

I nodded.

“ Whats going on with my father? Seo Joon was pissed off about something with my father....” I said, remembering the reason the wolf had been so pissed in the first place. 

“We’ll talk about this later- You need to rest and-”

“Just tell me damn it!!” 

Jungkook sighed.

“Your father got called out for trying to sabotage the vaccine drive going on on the island and he played the whole, ‘ why would I sabotage something my daughter helped make...’ card on TV. It’s had an effect....” 

I swallowed.

“What do you mean by effect?”

Jungkook looked a little angry now. 

“Can’t we talk about this tomorrow...you’re bleeding and hurt ...you need to fucking rest...”

“What’s going on...?” I demanded. 

“The weres don’t want the vaccine anymore. They think...well they think you may have tampered with it....” He looked uncomfortable and I couldn’t comprehend what I’d just heard. 

I stared at him, my jaw going slack in shock. 

“I’m not.... I have nothing to do with the vaccine...that is so far above my paygrade..I’m a lab tech..... what even-” I was too outraged to even think clearly. 

“People don’t know that, Rae. All they know is that they have always associated your father with bringing harm to the were community and somehow his daughter is here working on something that has the potential to both hurt and heal.....”

I bit my lips.

“He’s not even my real father.” I choked out. 

Jungkook looked surprised at that. 

“What?”

“It’s true. He adopted me because he raped my mom and she fucking killed herself over it. I was eight years old at the time and the bastard did not want any loose ends...” The words came out , bitter and edged with anger but it was an old hurt. An old rage that had long faded into a blunt sort of ache. I had been so young. Too young to fully comprehend 

Jungkook looked completely stunned.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry....”

“He wanted me to marry one of his anti-were associates . That's literally all he raised me for. When I refused , he cut me off completely. I’ve literally been on my own for years now and my job is the only thing keeping me from dying on the  streets....”

I hissed when the nurse touched my shoulder , the physical agony of my shoulder somehow intensifying as the nurse moved to finish dressing the wound. I would have to wear a sling next but I couldn’t even fathom moving,   let alone sitting up for that ordeal. 

The nurse gave me a slight smile.

“Your ribs are bruised again , this time its going to take longer to heal because one of them actually has a hair line fracture.” 

Great. That explained the woozy breathlessness. 

“It doesn’t hurt much...” I said confused.

“That’s because you’re on enough drugs to fell a horse...I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious.” Jungkook shook his head. 

“It’s just the adrenaline...that and the fear of being fired.” I muttered. 

Jungkook laughed a little at that.

“Don’t worry about anything. Just rest for a while and we’ll talk tomorrow , yeah?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to fingers in my hair, soft and gentle. 

My eyes fluttered open and I felt my breath catch when I saw who it was.

“Yuggie ??” I croaked out, my brother’s face coming into focus as I blinked back exhaustion.

“Welcome to the land of the living...” He said softly, keeping his fingers on my hair, stroking the strands back gently.

“What..... how did you get here so soon?” I whispered.

“You’ve been out for forty hours, baby....” He laughed a little and I blinked, 

“I....I got hurt.” I whispered bleakly. My shoulder was still throbbing and the pain in my rib was now a bit more prominent. I took a deep shuddering breath. 

“I’m glad you’re here.... “ I whispered, lifting shaky hands to hold his face. 

“Dad called me. He wants you to come back home.” 

I felt my entire body going cold, hands going clammy at once. 

“That’s not going to happen.” I said sharply and Yugyeom looked worried.

“He’s really upset , Rae. Kim Taehyung winning the election was not a part of his plan and he’s desperate to try and cover his ass before he gets carted off to prison.” 

I blinked at that.

“what do you mean by prison?” 

“We can’t talk about this here. He’s not allowed on the island. None of his cohorts are. So he’s been trying to get you transferred to a hospital in Seoul. Jeongguk was the one who called me. They’re holding off on the transfer but ....you know how dad gets.” 

I felt my head pound . 

“What does he want me for?” I whispered in disbelief. 

“I’m not sure. But I think you should at least go see him and find out what it is that he wants.”

I shook my head .

“I’m not going anywhere near him, I’m-”

The door swung open and I found myself jerking in surprise, the movement jostling my ribs and making me wince. I felt my eyes widen when I saw who it was, fingers scrambling to grab Yugyeom . 

“Dad...” He whispered, sounding terrified and I felt that familiar jolt of sickening fear . 

“There she is.... my precious little one.” My father’s eyes held no emotion as he stared at me, lips curled in a perfect smile. He looked so much like a good guy that it was nauseating. 

I took a deep shuddering breath. 

“the management here is terrible. I had to petition the fucking courts to get a permit to visit my own daughter.” He shook his head as he made his way over and I lurched away instinctively. 

“I’m taking you home now. Bout time you came back to me.” He smiled, chillingly and I shook my head. 

“No...thats not going to happen. I’m an adult, you cannot force me to...” 

“You are my daughter. And you will be my daughter till you live. Cha Eun woo is still single. He’s looking for a wife and you were promised to him a long, long time ago. “ 

“Dad.... she’s fucking hurt...she got shot like three days ago can you not do this right now...” Yugyeon had stood up, reaching out to actually shove my father away and he looked surprised for a second. 

He gave Yugyeom a glare but my brother didn’t back down, towering over my father easily. 

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive but it just worries me that my only daughter is choosing to stay in an island full of beasts and getting mauled quite often . Isn’t this the second time you got attacked in that same cabin, by wolves?” 

“that doesn’t mean you can just offer me as a gift to one of your buddies.” I hissed. 

“He’s one of the richest men in Seoul....you should be on your knees thanking me for letting you so much as breathe near him.”

“Isn’t he a werewolf?” Yugyeom frowned in confusion. 

My father shrugged.

“I’ve since learned that your sister has a preference for them. Well if she’s going to spread her legs for an animal, better an animal I happen to hold the leash to....” He stared down at me with calculated cruelty. 

The crude words made nausea rise up in my throat and I almost dry heaved. 

“You’re not pimping me out to serve your own selfish purposes.” I shook my head. 

“He’s here. Outside. He’s going to stay here and he’s going to bring you back to his apartment in Seoul and you’re going to stay there with him. End of discussion. Yeom, I want you to come back to Seoul with me now. “

Yugyeom looked torn as he stared at me and I bit my lips. Yugyeom was still a kid, still in college. He couldn’t afford to antagonize my father.

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead.” I smiled. 

“I’ll send Eun Woo in.... “ My father nodded at me and then sighed. “ contrary to what you think, I don’t want you to hurt. I’m offering you a good life. Marry the fellow and spend your days lounging around in luxury. Thats hardly a punishment now, is it?” 

I turned my head away in disgust. 

Less than two minutes after he left, I felt a hand on my arm and I jolted.

“Mi Rae ssi.... I’m Eun Woo.” 

I glared at the man in front of me, barely looking at him. 

“I have no interest in being your wife.”

He looked bored at my outburst.

“I have no interest in indulging your  interests.  Your father is paying me handsomely to take you off his hands and that's all I’m doing. If you happen to be good at taking my knot, that's just gonna be a pleasurable bonus?” He pressed a thumb to my lips, stroking the skin in an almost gentle caress.  . 

A knock on the door made him pull away and I glanced up, relief flooding me when I saw it was Jungkook. 

“She’s going to have to rest now, Mr. Cha. Her father told me that he’s arranging her transfer to Seoul but that's going to have to wait for tomorrow at least. “ He was staring at the beta with narrowed eyes and Eun Woo bowed lightly. 

He shot me one leering glance before walking out casually.

“So...fiancee huh? You’ve been holding out on me...” Jungkook whispered thoughtfully and I flinched.

“Didn’t know he existed till five minutes ago..” I muttered. 

“Are you in trouble, Rae?” Jungkook looked worried and I hesitated, before shaking my head. 

“I’ll be fine. I can handle him. I just hate the thought of having to leave the preserve... even if its temporary. But I don’t want to annoy my dad right now... He’s... He can be irrational and i don’t want him to take it out on the Preserve and do something harmful to the research program itself , just to be petty.”

It was exactly the kind of thing he would do, too. My shoulder still had a lot of healing to do and it was unlikely that Cha Eun Woo would actually hurt me , at least till i got better. My dad, for all his anger was still rabidly protective of what he considered his. And i was definitely high on that list. 

“So you’re going then?” 

I caught the hint of disappointment in Jungkook’s tone.

“Aww....is my poor Jungkookie gonna miss me? If I weren’t sporting a broken rib and a messed up shoulder, I’d definitely, at least give you a handjob…” I waggled my eyebrows. 

Predictably, his eyes went wide , lips tinged fire engine red in a second. 

“Wha- Shut the fuck up, noona” He whined and I laughed. 

And then I sobered up when he sat next to me, linking his fingers with mine .

“I’m serious, Jungkook. I’m gonna be just fine. My dad’s upto something. If I stick close, I can at least figure out what he’s planning. I don’t want him to hurt you guys.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Right little firecracker his daughter is. So fucking pretty and man, those lips. I’d like to take a drink from that....” Cha Eun Woo gripped the shot glass hard, throwing back the whiskey with practiced ease. 

Taehyung struggled to keep his features neutral. 

“ Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter? From the preserve?” He had meant to sound casual but he sounded like he was being strangled. 

Eun Woo hummed.

“ Yeah....Her name is... Mirin....no wait ? Lirae? Mirae? ….. whatever. Poor thing. Apparently she has a tendency to get mauled by wolves too often. She was in bad shape when i saw her. “ 

Taehyung felt his heart lurch at that. He had wanted nothing more than to sink his jaws into Seo Joon’s throat, when he’d heard what had happened. If it weren’t for his abysmally packed schedule he would have rushed there as soon as he could. 

 As it was he had talked to a few of his acquaintances who were in prison. Seo Joon was going to go to prison and he wasn’t going to be coming out alive. 

“So, she just.,...agreed to marry you then?” 

“Not like she had a choice. The old man is going senile. Dude really thinks he stands a chance with his whole Reform Camps proposition. Wants to put weres in concentration camps.... What the fuck, are we in the middle ages..? He also thinks that betas are naturally resentful of Alphas or some shit. Kept feeding me crap about how you alphas want to subjugate the rest of us. Of course the fucker’s feeding into my Hotels and resorts so i just nodded along and agreed to his shit. Next thing I know he’s offering me his daughter in return to me being an ally in his campaign.. Figured I’d agree. See if i could get some inside dirt on him. I know you’ve been trying to bring him down for years, Tae...” Eun Woo gave him a reassuring smile. 

Taehyung felt a jolt of pride for the beta. Cha Eun woo had been a close friend of his from childhood and he knew he would never betray their kind. He had worked hard to earn his position as one of the biggest tech moguls in the country and he stayed true to his roots. Taehyung liked Eun Woo.

Admired him even....

But the idea of him touching Mirae.....

His claws nearly popped out at the mere thought of it. 

“And well if I get to fuck a nice little human bitch in the process, so be it right Taeh- Fuck!! “ Eun Woo jumped when Taehyung’s claw popped right out, shattering the beer mug in his hand and spraying both of them with the frothy liquid.

“Fuck...” Taehyung groaned and to his utter horror his fangs had dropped as well, his words slurring around the lengthened canines and he felt embarrassment flood his face. . When was the last time he’d popped a fanger in the middle of a fucking conversation....not since he’d been through puberty.

“Uh...you okay, pal?” Eun Woo looked worried now, beta eyes flashing green as he stared at him and Taehyung waved him off. 

“Be uh... Be careful with the daughter.” He muttered , trying to sound nonchalant. 

Eun Woo just waved him off. 

“Whatever , I know the type Tae. Likes a good, feral fuck from a wolf that knows how to give it to her good, you know?. Could smell her all over the alpha doctor who works there... Jungkook was it? Yeah... Girl gets around a lot, i could tell. And you can just tell that she’s going to be so fucking tight when you knot her you know, i mean human bitches always are but those hips just look like they-” Eun Woo stopped, stunned when Taehyung suddenly shoved the table away from him, hard. The older gripped the table and stood up on shaky limbs. 

“ I need to get going...” Taehyung fought the urge to shift, his wolf warring inside him, snarling at him to shift and leap across the table and devour the man across from them. To lock his fangs on the beta’s throat and rip his jugular out. 

 He’s threatening our mate...... He’s talking about what is ours....

The voice in his head was so clear and concise that he nearly blacked out at the very force of it. 

Eun Woo was saying something behind him but Taehyung was moving swiftly , stumbling to the bar where Jimin was taking one of the shifts.

“I need to go home...” Taehyung choked out. “ Call....fuck... Call my chauffeur.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pre rut symptoms....are you fucking serious...?” Taehyung growled at the doctor taking his vitals. the man, long used to Taehyung’s intimidatingly deep voice, merely hummed. The man had been one of his father’s dearest friends. And one of Taehyung’s most trusted confidantes. 

“You’re body believes you mate is around. A mate you haven’t yet claimed. It’s reacting to it.” 

Next to him Ji hyun was looking disturbingly excited.

“It’s not you.” Taehyung snapped at the tall woman who recoiled in shock. Taehyung felt momentarily bad but the truth was he had been trying to break up with Ji hyun for a month now. The model was just so shamelessly clingy it was getting to him. and he most certainly did not want her around if he was going into rut. 

What he wanted was a luscious, chestnut-haired human with ebony eyes and a scent like heaven. 

Fuck... he was burning up and his skin felt like it was stretched thin. 

“You need to leave Ji hyun. I want to talk to the doctor alone.” He demanded and the were bowed, moving out of the room quickly. Taehyung turned back to the doctor. 

“So what do I do?” He demanded. “ I don’t.... my mate died two years ago. “

The doctor sighed.

“She was not your mate. I told you that already. She tricked you. She was wearing your mate’s scent but it wasn’t hers...” The doctor shook his head. 

Taehyung growled. 

“I fucking know that..... And I’m gonna fucking bury Yoon Jae hyun into the ground for what he did to me..... But I need to have my senses about me if I want to do that...Him and his entire drug cartel is coming down.....But. That's not gonna happen if i go into fucking rut  now.. so close to me taking over office. So tell me how to fix this. “ 

“Who is the girl?” The doctor said casually. 

“What?”

“the girl who smells like your wife. Like your mate. Who is she?”

Taehyung sighed. 

“Its Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter.” He muttered. 

Dr. Lee’s eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline. 

“Oh no... do you think he .... again?” 

Taehyung shook his head. He had distanced himself entirely from Mirae just to make sure he wasn’t being pulled into another fucking trap. But so far , from what he learned, the drug did not work on humans. There was no way a human’s scent could be manipulated to fool his wolf.

And that meant that it wasn’t a trap at all. 

His wolf really did find a mate in a fucking human of all things. 

God, he couldn’t believe the sheer irony of this. 

“it doesn’t work on humans. It is her scent. She’s... She’s the one I want.... “ He groaned. 

The doctor chuckled.

“ You mean, she’s the one your wolf wants?” 

Taehyung frowned.

“Isn’t that what i said?” 

“No, you said she’s the one you want and it makes me wonder.....do you perhaps....care for the girl?” 

Taehyung shook his head swiftly.

“I barely know her...she...she used to look after Luna. “ He finished. 

“Luna...? Interesting. “ The man’s words carried a hint of amusement and Taehyung felt his hackles rise. 

“ What does that tone mean?” 

“I’m just saying.... You don’t let people watch Luna that easily. You’re fiercely protective of your daughter. If you let this girl watch her, you must trust her at least.” 

Taehyung sighed. 

“I.. of course i trust her …. she’s a good girl.  A good....person...” 

“ I would suggest spending your rut with her. Claiming her if she’s interested. With you being you, I doubt she’s going to refuse.” The older man’s eyes fairly twinkled, 

“I’m not knotting her when I’m on my fucking rut …” He snapped. “ I’ll likely break her in two. “ 

The doctor chuckled. 

“It wouldn’t be a very pleasant experience for her, yes. But ….there's no reason why you can’t make it enjoyable for her. “ His tone turned gentle and more serious. “ Listen to me Taehyung-ah...… There is a reason wolves mate for life. We are not meant to be alone. If your wolf has found a mate, he’s not going to let you function till you claim her. That's just the way our body’s are built. You need to talk to her. Make some sort of arrangement. You have three weeks at the most before your rut hits and trust me you don’t want to be alone when that happens. “ 

Taehyung felt his insides churn at the prospect. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No fucking shit.... You couldn’t have just told me that instead of letting me mouth off about her like that ? “ Eun Woo groaned , watching Taehyung with guilty eyes. 

Taehyung brushed him off. 

“It’s fine. I just.... can you just...keep her at your place till she gets better. I’m ...not in a good headspace right now and i don’t want to hurt her. she needs to recover.”

Eun Woo nodded.

“The doctor says three weeks and she’ll be fine. I’m a bit busy myself so I’ll just arrange for her brother to pick her up. Her dad’s busy meeting some suppliers. I sent the details to your men.... Did they get it?” 

Taehyung nodded. 

“The guy’s a bigger idiot than i thought. He’s actually met a few of these dealers himself. We just need one of them to ID him and he’s going to get locked up for life.” 

Eun Woo nodded.

“Everything by the book, Tae. We stick to the laws....no  bloodshed without cause and no one gets hurt. He likes to hide behind the fucking law when he’s trying to destroy our entire species , we’re gonna use that same ;law to rail him to the ground .” 

Taehyung grinned. 

“ Not just on the ground, Eun Woo. I’m gonna be putting him six feet under.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The recovery from my shoulder was surprisingly easy compared to the bruise on my ribs. Movement was difficult and it definitely hurt but my pain threshold had definitely gone up. It helped that Cha Eun Woo had stayed away from me and Yugyeom was on a three week break . We crashed out at his apartment and It was like being a kid again. 

We spent the days lounging by the indoor pool or playing video games. Yugyeom was a great cook and he liked cooking. 

Two and a half weeks after I had moved in, I was finally out of the sling. The physiotherapist visited me at the apartment and after making me move my hands well, she gave the go ahead to start my normal routine ahead. 

“I still want you to take it easy. Your ribs are healed and so is your shoulder but no roughhousing.... I’m only saying that because i know how it is i when siblings live together.” She smiled and I laughed, nodding. 

“I’ll make sure she’s resting well, noona.” Yugyeom said seriously. 

I closed the door as the doctor left, smiling as I watched Yugyeom trip over my sling on the couch, when the doorbell rang again.

Surprised , I turned back tot he door.

“ Did you forget something, Unnie-?” I froze in shock. 

Kim Taehyung stood leaning against the wall, looking like he had run all the way from his home across the city. 

“Taehyung-ssi?” I stammered out, taking in the untucked shirt, sweat drenched hair and flashing red eyes .

“I’m.... I fucked up.” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut. It took me a second to realize that he was falling and instinct made throw myself under him, holding my hands out to catch him. 

Pain shot straight up my shoulder as it took the entire brunt of his weight. The pain only lasted a second though, because Yugyeom was shoving me out of the way and grabbing the taller alpha by the waist.

“Holy shit....is this Kim Taehyung?” He looked awestruck as he stared at him and I felt my heart race. Taehyung seemed conscious but his breathing was raspy. 

I pressed my palm against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open .

“I’m... I need you.” Taehyung growled right at me. 

Yugyeom froze next to me and I felt my throat go dry. 

“I... sorry?” I squeaked out. 

“You...need you....under me... fuck...” 

“What the fuck, Rae?” Yugyeom hissed , face turning red as he tried to maneuver the alpha werewolf to the couch . 

I stayed frozen, having no idea what the fuck was going on.

Taehyung scrambled to a sitting position on the couch, gripping the cusions and he was paniting, his eyes wild as he stared right at me. 

“Mine.” His voice was ten times deeper than usual, fairly vibrating with power and Yugyeom went completely still. He was shaking as he reached for me, the terror evident in his face. 

“Oh, shit... Rae...is he....? Fuck , is he -” My little brother sounded terrified and I pulled him behind me. 

Taehyung’s eyes flashed red again and then they shifted to my brother. His gaze narrowed and his mouth opened. 

There was a split second when I knew exactly what was going to happen and I whirled around , grabbing Yugyeom and shoving him straight into the hallway leading to the front door.

“ YUGGIE, RUN!!!”  I screamed with all my might, and behind me Taehyung let out a vicious growl, pouncing across the room at my brother. Yugyeom managed to avoid him by a hairsbreadth and instinct made him move faster to the door but he stopped near the door looking terrified but torn. 

“ Rae...come with me,...come...” 

I stared at the alpha on the floor, my heart racing. 

Taehyung was clearly fighting against the wolf in him, trying to stay down, on his knees, fingers gripping the carpet to ground himself but the little growls that he let out told me that it was a fight he wasn’t winning. He looked up at me and there was so much pain and contrition in his gaze that I felt my heart break. 

“I’m...sorry...” Taehyung gasped out eyes fluttering shut. He was panting harder now, fingers clenched into fists around the carpet and voice ragged. i looked up at my baby brother and he looked so young and scared that I couldn’t stand it. 

“Its okay.... just go... I’ll be fine...he won’t hurt me... Just go...” I whispered desperately and Yugyeom shook his head.

“No... No... you’ve got to come with me... Rae...Noona....”

He never called me noona. I realized just how scared he was and tried to comfort him, but wary of going near him, lest Taehyung attack him again. 

“Yugyeom listen to me carefully. He’s on his rut. He’s not gonna hurt me, he just thinks I’m his mate. If you stay here he’s going to see you as a threat, so you need to leave..If I come with you he will hunt us down....I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. You just need to go.” 

Yugyeom nodded, moving to the door and I turned back, feeling my stomach clench when Taehyung’s claws came out, tearing through our rug with ease. 

I heard the door shut behind me and I stayed perfectly still. 

Taehyung was still trembling and he finally looked up at me. Now that we were alone he was distinctly calmer. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He rasped out. 

I nodded. 

“So why did you?” I asked, staring at him as he stumbled to his feet. 

“You smell ....fuck you just smell like. ....like...”

“Like your wife, yes.” I muttered . “ So you want me to be stand in for your wife tonight?” 

Taehyung’s eyes shot up to stare at me. 

“My wife .... she worked for your father.” He choked out.

I straed at him, the blood running cold in my veins. 

“What?”

“Your father hired her.... to get rid of me. She... used a drug . A drug that confuses a wolf’s senses. Makes the wolf think he’s found his mate. Wolves cannot hurt or live without their mates. Its important to us.  She...She got pregnant on the night we mated and by the time I found out she was already carrying Luna and there was nothing I could do....I couldn’t...it wasn’t even a fucking bond.... I couldn’t sense her...couldn’t feel her...couldn’t muster any kind of affection for her but ... but she was carrying my baby and I just couldn’t bring myself to send her away......”

“Taehyung...” I whispered, remembering how Luna had talked about her father not liking her mother. 

“Its not natural for a wolf my age to be without a mate. But ....that scent ....I... I never picked up on it with anyone else till I... “ He sighed. 

“Till you met me.” 

“Till I met you.” 

I stared at the floor. 

“I’m not.... I’m not actually in rut yet. It’s still a day or so away. i didn’t want to come here but.... I’m supposed to be taking over the office in three days. When I do, I can finally use my position to bring your father down. He is using his drug dealers and suppliers to mess with our biology and its ...something sacred to us. Wolves mate for life and to make a wolf doubt his ability to choose his mate is the worst kind of sacrilege.....”

“What do you want me to do?”

He stared at me....

“If I go into rut and I don’t have.... my mate ...it’s going to fuck me up. I don’t wanna go into the gory details but I most certainly will not be able to take over the office. ” He laughed without mirth. 

There was nothing else to be said , was there?

“You have no right..... asking me to do this.....” I whispered , angry . 

“I know.... I know and if you say no, I will walk out this door and you will never see me again.” 

I laughed. 

“I think you came here because you knew. “

He didn’t respond.

“You fucking knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to you. “ 

His gaze was steady as he stared at me.

“I’ll take care of you.... I won’t...this isn’t a one night stand or a no strings attached thing, Rae..... You will be mine. I’ll be yours. “ 

“And yet, your eyes tell me that there is nothing you hate more, than standing here asking me to be your mate......” I said bitterly.

He didn’t deny it. 

“Will you come with me , then?”

I stared at his handsome face , the surreal beauty of it. And I thought of my father and how he wanted only to destroy anything that he didn’t understand. If Taehyung was going to bring my father down , I wasn’t going to be the thing that stopped him from doing it. 

“Let me get my clothes.” 

AUTHOR’S NOTE : IT WAS EASIER GIVING BIRTH THAN WRITING THIS FIC 

just kidding i love werewolf tae. Please let me know what you thought uwu

[hercleverboy]

7 from the angst prompts bc i surround myself with angst willingly xo

indiaaaa!! of course bb.

send prompts from this list!

wc↠  760

warnings ↠ swearing, spencer being a dick. 

Angst #7 ↠ “I love you.” “No you don’t.”

Three knocks sounded through her apartment, catching her attention from where she sat idly watching a drama show on TV. She frowned, standing up and turning down the volume of the show before heading to the door. 

Spencer, eyes red and flooded with tears, was the last person she expected to find on her doorstep that evening. 

She didn’t even get the chance to greet him before he pushed past her into the home. She stared after him in confusion before sighing and closing the door behind him. “No please, come right in.” She muttered quietly. 

She met him back in the living room, her confusion turning to worry as she watched him pace back and forth in the small space, hands pulling at his tangled hair. “Woah, woah, Spence. What’s wrong?”

His eyes shot up to meet hers as he stopped pacing, only the sound of his heavy breaths filling the room. He let out a scoff, followed by a humourless laugh. “You know, I think a better question would be what isn’t wrong? Not only was I held hostage for the better part of today, but my best friend of fourteen fucking years decided that today was a brilliant day to admit that she’s always loved me!”

Her jaw dropped, and she was stunned into silence. She’d always had feelings for Spencer but had kept them to herself out of fear of rejection. Though, she would never have guessed that JJ felt that way. 

“For years —years!— I waited for her. I pined after her like some lovesick idiot, thinking maybe one day, one day she’d choose me. But then she married Will, she has kids— my godchildren, for god’s sake! and now what, she loves me? She always has?” His breathing was erratic, his shoulders heaving as the tears fell from his eyes. He was so confused and so angry at the same time. 

“I understand this must be hard for you, but—” 

“No. You’ve never loved someone that doesn’t love you, so don’t stand there and tell me that you know how I feel.” He sneered out, cutting her off. 

“I have.” She spoke after a few minutes of silence. Her voice remained calm, though really her heart was beating harshly against her ribcage. “Loved someone that didn’t love me. I get it, Spencer. More than you know.” 

He looked over at her, as though he was studying her face to decide whether she was telling the truth. Before she could comprehend it, his lips were on hers. 

They weren’t soft, loving or caring like she’d dreamed they’d be. They were angry, harsh, and brutal. After overcoming the initial shock of the action she pushed him away, taking a few steps back from him. 

“What was that?” She asked, her voice wavering. 

“I kissed you. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?” His tone was vicious, venomous even, and it made Y/N feel sick. 

“Not like that.” 

“I know that you’re in love with me, Y/N.”

She shook her head, blinking a few times to rid the tears forming in her eyes. “This isn’t the time for that conversation.” 

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk. Just, please.” He stepped closer to her again, hands landing on her hips and lips ghosting down her neck, planting kisses every so often. “Please. Just help me forget. I just want to forget.” 

Y/N pushed away from him again, looking up at him incredulously. “No, Spencer. I am not just a warm body for you to use because you cannot have JJ.” 

“I’m not using you.” He shook his head, and if she didn’t know better she almost would’ve believed him. He sighed, his lips parting as though he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, but then— “I love you.”

Y/N let out a laugh that lacked any emotion behind it. “No you don’t. Spencer, if you loved me, you wouldn’t be crying to me over the fact that you can’t have another woman.” 

Spencer said nothing. 

“I can’t believe you thought telling me you loved me was going to do anything. I’m not someone that you can just settle for.” She shook her head at him, the tears cascading down her cheeks no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay. “You need to leave.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he seemed to be hit with the realisation of just how badly he’d fucked up. “Wait, Y/N. I’m sorry. My head is all over the place—“

She turned away from him, spitting words that hit him like knives in his chest. “I said go.” 

And so he did. 

[saturdaysky]

Hello hello, would you tell me more about the Simple Stress Relief WIP? It sounds exactly like my cup of tea :D

(from the ask me about my WIPs meme)

But of course! It may very much be your cup of tea. :)

This WIP began as part of a tiny Valentine’s Day fic & art exchange on discord, and sort of took off from there. Here’s the summary:

The first day of the Aeor expedition goes horribly, and Essek cannot sleep. It’s a good thing, then, that Caleb knocks on his door late at night with an offer: no words. No complicated conversations. Just some simple stress relief.

If only things were simple between them.

Basically, Essek and Caleb have a one night stand in an attempt to Not Think About Things. Naturally, this is an excellent idea that doesn’t have any messy emotional repercussions in the morning.

In addition to writing what I hope are some hot hot scenes, I took the chance to explore a few things I’m interested in:

Essek’s anxiety, made worse by the shitshow of adventuring

Essek’s dedication to making sure the Nein live, at cost to himself

The weight of being trusted with someone’s safety

I reread this WIP and there are parts of it I really like! I hope to finish it sometime. As such, I shall post part of two scenes. They’re long because I’m proud of this and want to share. The shadowgast one is under the cut.

CW for: descriptions of anxiety, injury, blood, canon-typical violence (all this content is also under the cut)

Essek vs an adventuring-induced nervous breakdown:

The fire is low. It’s such a silly thing to worry about, Essek knows, but a chill has crept into the room. It curls in the corners like one of the Tower cats, and twines about Essek in a persistent and annoying fashion. 

He rises and turns the logs with the pretty bronze stoker Caleb had provided as part of the suite. It does little to alter the fire; some effect of magery, he muses idly. Then he settles back in at the gorgeous, thoughtful Vermaloc-wood desk he can’t appreciate right now, and resumes his preparations. Caduceus had given him tea earlier, and the homely cup pins down the corner of Essek’s notes.

(“You look like you could use a bit of soothing,” the firbolg had said, pressing a cup into Essek’s hands. “The Savalas were always good for that, very kind folks.” Essek had not even tried to comprehend the link between the two statements, merely thanked him and left.)

The brew had been good for his nerves when he’d remembered to drink it. Unfortunately, the chill has stolen this too, and the tea has long since gone unpleasantly cold.

He moves to replace the chipped cup on its saucer and stares blankly at his notes on hazards encountered on the first day of the Nein’s expedition into Aeor.

The day was… long. But they have all made it in one piece, so Essek has done his job, if he can only make his body believe it. Energy still thrums in his veins, and every sound, every quiet soothing whisper the Tower makes sets his teeth on edge. His shoulder aches, too, a distant pain he does his best to ignore.

There’s no threat here, in Caleb’s wonderful spell. It’s safe. Very few things can penetrate a well-hidden Mansion, and the Nein are comfortable, so Essek should be as well.

But.

But.

It has been only one day in the shattered city and his friends have skirted death a dozen times. It is difficult, he finds, to chase away the images of blood pooling in broken Aeorian cobblestones. Impossible to unhear the Nein's anguished yells or the soft oh Veth let out when a hidden ward impaled her before Essek’s eyes.

He does not know how to forget the heat of arterial blood as it seeps through his clamped fingers, nor the terrible speed at which it escapes the body of a friend. The phantom warmth of it still courses over his skin when his thoughts wander from his notes, like it has carved a channel in his mind and is flowing still.

It’s not. They’d all made it out, like they always do. But it is worse than he’d ever imagined, to adventure with the Nein. It’s terrifying.

The teacup rattles in its setting. Essek unclenches frozen fingers and lets it go, then presses his face into his hands, as if a barrier of bone and flesh could stop the images from painting themselves across his eyelids when he blinks.

Tomorrow will be better, he hopes. He has twelve and a half double-sided pages of notes on the dangers encountered, with proposed methods of avoidance and disposal. He has fixed them in his mind. Now he needs to rest so he can cast, but if the shocky pulses of adrenaline that hit him with each wayward memory of the day are anything to go by, rest will be elusive.

Well, when the mind is unwilling, the body must make do; he will have to wait for exhaustion to take him, and hope it is enough. He settles himself on the bed — thoughtfully equipped with both a padded incline for trancing and covers for sleeping — and breathes, and waits, and grows cooler by the minute.

It is paradoxically easier to ignore the images if he leans into them, he learns. Veth’s blood, hot and bright. The snick of the ward, which he will remember forever, just as he will the acrid smell of the ward-spell. Pain — an impact, nauseating but unimportant. Heartbreak and terror, on the faces of the Nein.

If he wears these sensations into his mind, the edges of them will fray and become familiar. A steady horror is better than an unsteady drumbeat of shock, at least for resting.

Time passes. Memory frays. And then, there’s a knock at the door.

Caleb proposes a one-night stand:

"I cannot sleep either," Caleb eventually murmurs into the silence. Essek considers what to do with the statement, and then Caleb adds, “But maybe we can help each other.”

He raises his head just enough to look at Essek from beneath his lashes, then leans forward and reaches out a hand slowly, pausing just before touching Essek's cheek. Essek can feel the slight heat of Caleb's skin in the air, and his throat goes dry.

Whatever Caleb wants is going to hurt, he thinks, and it's going to work because Essek is weak.

Caleb’s hand trembles. "You are right, you know. I did not knock on your bedchamber to talk. There is... much between us that requires words, but- This. This could be simple, for now. Tonight, it could just be us. There are many ways to forget."

Caleb is looking at him desperately, hungrily, from beneath those lashes and his regard sears through Essek, knocking the air out of him.

But the feeling sours in his stomach. He is done with that whole game. He lost it, utterly, and couldn’t see it until he’d traded away any chance at winning. Now, his remaining life can be counted in months, if not days. Now, thousands have died for Essek’s fruitless curiosity. Now, nothing is simple between himself and Caleb.

Oh. Perhaps Essek will get what he wants after all. It could be simple. He has done simple before: the garnering of a favor in exchange for his nights. It had been easy enough, sometimes pleasant, and had mostly provided useful leverage in gaining power to pursue his goals.

Tonight, something in him craves the simplicity on offer, of losing one's self entirely in the physical. It thrills him in a way it has not before.

"Caleb,” he says in a voice that is less steady than he’d like, “We both know you do not trust me, so why are you offering this?"

Caleb’s eyes take him in, inch-by-slow-inch. His palm settles on Essek's cheek. 

Caleb swallows audibly, and he looks over Essek with naked heat in his eyes. All at once, Essek becomes intensely aware that he’s wearing nothing but an open shell of his robes over a close-fitting black underlayer. There's a lot to see, if one was looking.

Desire hits Essek so strongly he's dizzy with it.

He wants this. He wants to push out the horrible memories of the day and replace them with Caleb’s callused hand sliding under his shirt and holding him close. He wants to hear Caleb’s beautiful voice roughen as they take each other apart, and then he wants to kiss that clever mouth so deeply that Caleb forgets his troubles and thinks only of Essek and pleasure and safety and hope, like those are things Essek could give him.

Caleb drags his gaze back up to meet Essek’s. His hand is distractingly warm. "We don't need trust for this," he says. 

It’s what Essek was expecting, but it stings anyway.

[cancelingthenoise]

Unworthy

Soooo, after a 13 year hiatus, I’m trying to get back into writing and where better to start than fan fiction and with my fave OTP.  But buckle up, it’s a heavy one.  Hopefully I’ve tagged all the appropriate trigger warnings; apologies if I’ve missed any - please let me know if I have!!

Summary: Addict.  Junkie.  Worthless.  He has been gone for three years and is ready to come home, but his biggest enemy is still the one inside.  

Rated: Mature (Addiction, Recovery, Implied Drug Use, Drug References, Mild Sexual Content)

Cross-posted to FFN and AO3

He inserts the coins and dials a number he knows by heart.  The only one that is permanently branded into the recesses of his mind. As it rings, he hopes – let it be the right number, let it still be her number, let her pick up …

Hello?

“Kagome.”

Inu … Inuyasha?

“I … want to come home.”

Where are you?

He tells her the city, the intersection, the name on the warehouse nearby.  Everything that can pinpoint exactly where he is so she can find him.

I’m on my way.  Stay put.

There’s a tone in her voice he can’t identify and it sends pangs straight to his heart, but she’s coming. She’s coming.  

And so, he waits.

Two hours later a familiar red sedan pulls up in front of him and its driver approaches.  She’s older now, tired, he notices as he stands to greet her.  He watches as she looks him over.  He’s dirty, he knows, and even his demon-blood cannot mask how battered and bruised he is.  He’s shocked but admittedly pleased when she wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes him in an embrace.  Her scent is altogether lovely and calming, like coming home.

It takes every fiber of his being not to whine when she pulls away and looks him square in the eyes. Her grey eyes are intense and full of contrasting emotions.  All for him. “Let’s go.” She finally speaks, her tone decisive and unyielding.

He has nothing but the clothes on his back, but instead of a pitying glance, she nods.  It’s almost cathartic that she’s here and he has no physical baggage to take.  She tosses her purse from the passenger seat into the back so he can settle in.

He notices the ring when she places her hands on the steering wheel.  Ten-and-two, ever predictable.

“You’re engaged.” He cannot hide the shock, the disdain that he feels.

“Yes.”

Her response is sharp and leaves no invitation for a response, but he can’t help it as the jealousy bubbles up through his core.

“Had enough waiting on the addict to clean up his act?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels instant regret.  He’s always been a hothead who runs his mouth before thinking, but he can tell these words sting deep.  They pain him too.

She flinches and releases a haggard breath.

“That’s not fair.  You left.  You stopped calling.  You stopped picking up.  You couldn’t even text.  And then your number went out.  Now you’ve called me from a payphone.  It’s been three years.” Her eyes remain firmly on the road, hands clenching the wheel, but he can see her body tremble and hear the strain in her voice. She’s angry.  Furious.

He slumps, “I’m sorry.” His whisper is meek as he understands a mere apology is not nearly enough to make amends for the past.  It doesn’t explain why he had to disappear, why he went away for so long.  It can’t make her understand his reasons.

She nods almost imperceptibly and seems to consider a game plan.  “I’ll take you to Sesshomaru’s.”

“No.” He’s vehement. There’s no chance in hell he will turn to his half-brother.  Especially now.

“Sango and Miroku’s then.”

“And?” He balks at the conjunction.

“They’re married now. Have been for a year.  You would’ve been his Best Man, but …”

She trails off, but he understands.  They couldn’t find him, reach him.  The hole he left in their lives appears to be much greater than he imagined.  

They drive in silence for nearly an hour.  He wants to speak, wants to tell her everything, but he can’t find the words; and based on the furtive glances she keeps sending him, she can’t either.

“I was so scared you were dead.” She finally whimpers.

“Some days I wished I was.” He admits forlornly.

She looks at him for a few moments before staring back at the road, brows furrowed, mouth turned down.

“I’m glad you’re not.”

Those are the last words spoken before silence consumes them again.

After they hit the city limits, she drives to a house in the suburbs.  It looks like a dream with its double-attached garage and neatly manicured lawn.  A chokecherry tree sits among a bed of flowers in the middle of the green; simple yet attractive and he knows whose home he stands in front of.  She leads him from the driveway to the royal blue front door and it opens almost immediately, revealing two faces he has longed to see almost as much as Kagome’s. Their expressions are a combination of disbelief and relief.  Miroku does not hesitate to embrace him with a sigh as Sango looks on with tears in her eyes.  He reaches a tentative hand out to her which she grasps tightly with a closed smile.

They usher him into the house and guide him to their kitchen.  Miroku settles him into a spot at the breakfast bar as Sango pours him a glass of water.  They do not speak, though the questions in their eyes are obvious.  Miroku nods at him as he and Sango walk back to the door, to Kagome.  She hasn’t come in.  Her face has been drawn since they stopped speaking during the drive.  

He waits inside the kitchen as they speak outside.  He could train his ears to listen to their conversation, and briefly considers it, but he chooses not to.  His absence has prohibited him from those intimacies.  They are different people now, just as he is.  They are probably discussing how to get him on his feet again as quickly as possible so they can get back to their lives.  Why would they want him to stay? Why would they want him around for longer than necessary?

Miroku and Sango return to him.  He hears the telltale roar of an engine and knows Kagome has gone.  He feels sadness, but knows why she’s left without a word. After all, who can jump right into caring for your former partner who has all but risen from the grave?

Sango looks him over, assessing him thoroughly.  He avoids her eyes, unsure of what emotions she’s wearing and afraid to meet them.  Shame fills his bones.  Maybe he should have stayed away.  Maybe he should have stayed dead in their minds.  He is a spot on their pristine lives.

Miroku refills his glass of water and replaces it on the counter before sitting on the stool beside him.

“You’re alive,” he finally breathes.

Inuyasha meets Miroku’s gaze and is warmed to see compassion and joy in his deep blue eyes.  The shame that was eating him just moments ago fades ever so slightly.

“You’re home.” Miroku states, “It’s a miracle.  Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

The dam is officially broken and all the questions that he knew were coming are finally bare, and despite everything, he feels entirely unprepared to answer.  So he starts slow, begins with the day they last saw him.  He tells them of his travels, the hitchhiking, the homelessness, but skimps out on the details of things he has done, the sins he has committed.  Those are secrets he will take to the grave.  He is unwilling to mar the consciences of those he loves.

“Have you…” Sango shakes her head, unable to finish her question, but he fully comprehends what she means to ask.

“No.  I’ve been clean since the day I left.”

“Then why?”

“Loose ends.” He murmurs. “I had to settle my debts.  They … they would’ve come for her if I didn’t comply.”

“For so long?”

Three years is nothing, he wants to tell them.  He’s lucky he only had to serve that long.  Naraku is a malevolent bastard and exploits the last breath out of most.  Frankly, his death would have been an easier price to pay.

“I had to earn my freedom.” He admits this ashamedly and hopes they don’t press for more.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t so simple.”

“So you disappeared.” Sango states brusquely, her tone is harsh and unforgiving.  “You broke her heart, you know.  You broke all of our hearts when you left.”

That admission freezes him from the inside.  He knew his absence would be difficult for them all, but hearing it spoken aloud affects him more than he thought it would.  He imagines Kagome sobbing into her pillow.  It’s a scene that is all too familiar, he’s caused her many tears – too many.

“I know.  I’m sorry.” He repeats his submissive apology from earlier and slumps, his forehead almost touching the counter.

“You’re here now,” Miroku responds comfortingly and places a hand on his shoulder, “You’re here.  You’re alive.  You’re safe.  That’s what matters.  We can help you now, if you want it.”

He lifts his head and looks directly at Sango whose cinnamon eyes convey grief and yet hold a glimmer of hope.  He turns to Miroku who is awaiting his response.

“Yes.” He declares, confidence daring to materialize, “Please.”

Later that evening he is settling into the spare bedroom they’ve given him.  Before him is a suitcase of his belongings that Kagome has dropped off on the front step.  He takes a breath and opens it.  He is quickly overcome with her sweet scent which is deeply embedded in each item. The clothes are slightly too big for him now.  Three years of constantly moving, being on the run, and meager meals have diminished his former stature.

Amongst his clothes is a red leather-bound book.  A journal. It smells more intimately of Kagome than everything else.  She has wept openly on these pages, he can tell.  He opens it and thumbs quickly through the pages.  Each entry is a letter addressed to him.  As he flips through the journal certain phrases jump out at him amidst the lines of her loopy hand.

I want to hate you.

Where are you?

I wish I had never met you.

Are you alive?

I wish I could hold you.

Please come home.

I love you.

He shudders as he realizes that these pages hold missives from the last three years.  These are Kagome’s thoughts, her feelings.  This is an intimacy he thought was nearly impossible now.  She has to have put this with his things on purpose.  She’s thorough like that.  Every action is purposeful, thoughtful.  He finds the last entry in the journal, it’s dated today.

Inuyasha,

This is a collection of letters that I began writing when I realized you weren’t coming home anytime soon.  Eventually I thought you weren’t coming home at all.  I used these to talk to you as if you were still by my side.  I don’t know what you’ve been through and maybe giving you this journal is selfish of me, but I needed you to see.

I hope they help you understand why I can’t be the one to help you right now.  I need time. It’s ironic saying that after you’ve been gone for three years.  It feels like there’s been nothing but time between us.  I thought you were dead when I received your call today.  I thought I was hearing a ghost.  I’m so grateful you’re alive, but things are different now.  We are not the same people we were before.

I need to figure this out.

Please understand.

Kagome

It isn’t until tears splatter on the page that he realizes he is crying.  Of course she needs time.  He knew this was a possibility when he made the phone call this afternoon. He’d hoped against hope that she would come for him and take him back fully.  But that was wishful thinking.  He knew there was a chance she would turn him away.  She could have hung up as soon as she heard his voice.  But she came for him, made arrangements for him.  But she is engaged to another man.  She needs to figure out if there is still room in her life for him.

For her, he’d wait a lifetime.  Even to just be her friend.

It is another three months before he sees Kagome again.  He’s read that journal more times than he cares to admit.  All her sleepless nights are immortalized in those grid-lined pages, that he’s now dog-eared and bookmarked.  Her worries, fears, even her dreams laid bare.  He knows how often she cried when he was in the depths of his addictions, but it has taken this journal to make him truly appreciate how deeply he hurt her, even after he was gone.  And to his astonishment, it wasn’t the behaviour that hurt her the most, it was his poor viewpoint of himself.

I wish you could see you how I do.

I should have told you more what you meant to me.

I regret every moment I didn’t say “I love you.”

He knows Sango sees her regularly, he can always scent her when Sango arrives home.  It’s not as if they’re keeping their meetings a secret, but he’s respecting her space even though it kills him.  It bothers him when he can smell the sadness of her tears and the tinge of fatigue.  He wonders what causes her tears these days, why she’s so often tired, why sometimes there’s a trace of illness in her scent that lingers on Sango.  From Miroku he learns that she’s busy with her residency at the hospital.  Ever the studious achiever.  Ever wanting to help others.  To heal.

This is the reason he knows she’d never give up on him.  It’s why she was the one he called.  She’s a walking bleeding heart, always has been.  She sees the best in people, even when their best is a mere speck amidst obscurity.  When he was at his worst, she stood by him.  When everyone else had lost hope and he’d been slipping deeper into his addictions, his darkness, she stayed.  She brought him back from the brink of death’s door one too many times.  Back then, she truly loved him.  And he’s holding onto hope with every fiber of his being that she still does.

He hopes she’s proud of him and the progress he’s making.  Since he’s been back, he’s found work thanks to Miroku’s contacts in construction.  He’s proven himself to be a hard worker and has met a journeyman to mentor him as an apprentice in iron work.  It’s also helped boost his confidence with reintegrating into society.  At work, no one cares what his past is, what skeletons he hides in the closet, as long as he gets the job done.  At work, they’re all sinners just trying to get by.

He stays away from the parties and the after-work bar stops.  He recognizes the patterns in some of his colleagues all too well.  One drink leads to two leads to three leads to smack or blow or both which leads to miserable mornings because you’ve spent all night chasing that first-time spark.  No matter how hard you try, you can never attain that feeling again and still you chase. It’s the vicious cycle.  He’s done with that life.  It’s taken too much away from him, cost him too much.

Miroku and Sango have let him know that Kagome will be coming for dinner, so he’s had ample time to prepare.  But when she arrives in the doorway and her scent hits him like a freight train, he panics. Has she had enough time? Has she made a decision? Will she want him to stay away?  He runs to his room and leans back against the closed door.  He’s stared down the barrels of guns with less fear than what he’s experiencing in this moment.  

He smells her before he hears her footsteps arriving at his door.  Trepidation grips him as he hears her voice call to him for the first time in three months.  This is so much harder than that very first phone call that has brought him home.

“Inuyasha?”

She’s there, he can tell her face is pressed to the wood.  Her voice is soft, hesitant.  Perhaps she is just as nervous as him.

“Can I come in?”

He quakes as he reaches for the handle and turns it painfully slow.  He inches the panel open.  Finally, finally, he opens it all the way and turns to face her.

Her face is a portrait of concern and tenderness.  Her grey eyes are intense as they’ve always been and are already filling with tears. Her arms are wrapped around herself as if she’s blocking a gale.

He steps aside to let her in and shuts the door behind her.

She stares at the floor and he focuses on a spot on the wall above her head for a few moments.  He is completely stunned when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clutching as hard as she can. As he wraps his arms around her shoulders, she sobs fiercely and he feels tears prick the back of his own eyes.

He cups the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, and whispers repeatedly, “I’m sorry.”

It feels as if hours have passed when Kagome’s tears finally subside.  His body protests when she begins to pull away, but she clasps his hand and pulls him to sit on his bed.  She pulls a tissue out of her jeans pocket and wipes her face.

“Sango tells me you’ve been working,” her voice is pinched from crying, but he admires her attempts at normal conversation.

“Yeah, it’s going well.”

“Good,”

She smiles then and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s seen in years.  Her eyes are red and swollen, and her cheeks are ruddy, but her smile can still light up a room and he’s glad that it’s his.

“I … really am glad that you’re home.”

“Me too,”

“I’ve missed you a lot,

“Me too,” He feels like a goddamn broken record, but he may combust if he attempts more words.

“And … I’d like it if we could start hanging out again.”

He gapes at her, slack-jawed and eyes wide.  While he has been hoping for this, it is still a surprise to hear it straight from her lips.  His mind races with all the things he wants to say and his heart is lodged in his throat.

“That is … if you’d want to,”

He realizes that he’s taken too long to respond and she’s beginning to backtrack.  In a lot of ways, they are still the same people they were; confident in so many circumstances and yet, with each other, eternally hesitant and nervous.

“Of course I want to,”

The words rush out of his mouth in an effort to reassure her.  

“I would love to spend time with you.  I just wasn’t sure … if you’d …” he’s stumbling and feels like a fool, but he needs her to know.  He needs her to understand just how much he wants to be back in her life.

She smiles again and his world warms once more.

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

It takes him a moment to remember that their friends are downstairs with dinner and they stand together. He realizes as they descend the stairs that she has not let go of his hand at all.  Her diamond ring is notably absent from her finger, but he leaves that question for another time.

Dinner is a simple affair and it’s the lightest he’s felt in years.

- - - - -

If there’s anything his life has taught him, it’s that happiness is temporary.  Six months of being home, six months of stability, and three months of having Kagome back in his life on a regular basis have made him happy.  It’s a feeling he didn’t think was possible, didn’t think he was worthy of.  After all, when life has ceaselessly handed him cruel lessons, why would happiness even be an option? So when it all comes crashing down as he’s out running errands with Miroku, it doesn’t surprise him, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.

“It’s you.”

The words are scathing and resentful.  He dreadfully lifts his gaze to meet the eyes of the person who seems to offended by his mere existence.  She’s a petite woman with short black hair, but the animosity in her eyes belies her diminutive stature.

“How dare you?” Her tone is soft but punitive.  “How dare you insert your filthy little hands back into Kagome’s life.  She was finally moving on.  She was happy.  She was going to marry Akitoki, he would have taken care of her.  He was good for her.  But you couldn’t stay away.  She broke off her engagement because of you.  You’re taking advantage of her heart.  She’s let go of her chance at happiness, and for what? To take care of you? A worthless little nobody who can’t wait for his next fix?”

The woman is viciously relentless.  Her diatribe is unforgiving, slicing him to the very bone.

He is completely frozen. He wants to yell back at her, tell her that he’s quite aware of how he is undeserving of Kagome’s compassion and forgiveness.  He knows that he’s been the cause of her pain and tears.  He knows he’s gotten more second chances than he deserves.  He knows her life was easier without him.  He knows Kagome is better than him.  He knows.  Oh, he knows.

He vaguely registers that Miroku has taken a step between them and is reprimanding the woman.  Eri, he remembers.  She’d been a friend of Kagome’s through school and had been more than vocal of her disapproval of him even then.

Eri quickly turns her malice toward Miroku.

“You’re no friend of Kagome, letting this fuck-up back into her life.”

“That’s enough.  I won’t allow you to continue vilifying Inuyasha.  And Kagome is fully capable of deciding for herself who she associates with.”

Miroku’s tone is level, but Inuyasha can tell he is running out of patience.  Miroku grips his elbow and guides him away from the venomous witch, but not before she can get a final word in.

“You should have stayed dead.”

He flinches then, her phrase echoing endlessly through his mind, settling into his gut and clawing at him from the inside.

Somehow Miroku gets them home, everything is a blur with that bitch’s voice reverberating in his skull. He hears Miroku’s voice, but he cannot focus on the words.  All he understands is hatred and disgust.  Everything he has worked for is worthless.  Is this the way it’s always going to be?

She finds him on the back porch, sitting on the stairs, staring blankly toward the sunset.  She sits beside him on the step and sighs. Her voice is weary.

“Miroku told me everything. I’m sorry that happened.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“What?” Her shock is more than evident.  She clutches his forearm with both hands and he can sense her tears beginning to form, “How can you say that?”

He doesn’t dare look at her, he knows it’ll ruin his resolve.  As low as he feels, he feels a ripple of anger brewing in his gut.  Eri’s words have been festering in his brain, allowing an old and familiar voice to break through.  He’s a half-breed, accepted but unlovable.  He’s stupid and useless, completely unworthy of happiness. He’s committed too many wrongs to ever deserve redemption.  It’s been a long time, but the feeling inside is one he’ll never forget.  He’s craving a high to numb this pain, this goddamn fucking anger.

“If you want that perfect life, you should take it.  I don’t want your fucking pity party.  I know you look down on me.  Poor Inuyasha and his asshole attitude.  The only time he’s bearable is when he’s high as a damn kite and that’s only because he doesn’t know up from fucking down.  Of course, the downside is that he might stop breathing.” He scoffs harshly, “Or, is that the upside?”

He knows his voice is bitter and that he’s gotten louder.  It’s echoing the one Eri used earlier.  He’s shaking from the anger, or is it something else?  This scene feels all too familiar, almost like déjà vu; but somehow, it’s different now.

“Inuyasha.  Stop.”

She’s pleading with him, her grip on his arm has gotten tighter.  He knows she’s weeping openly; he can scent her tears and hear the stutter in her breath.  It’s all too familiar.  After all, this is what he’s good at: making her cry.

“Doesn’t fucking matter I’ve been clean three years.  That’s all anyone will see, a fucking deadbeat addict.  You’d be better off with that doctor.  He can take care of you, pamper you.  He’ll be enough.  He’ll deserve you.  That’s not me.  That’ll never be me.  All I’ll ever be is a fuck-up.”

“Don’t.”

She whimpers and lets her grip loosen.  He’s sure she’s going to walk away, get back in her car and leave.  He keeps his stare steady on the sun that has almost completely slipped beyond the horizon.  There’s a war waging inside of him – his angels and demons come out to play.  Not for the first time, he bitterly wonders if this continued sobriety is worth it.  She’s going to leave, just as she should.

When her hand comes up and gently cups his cheek, he is completely undone.  She tenderly moves his face, but he keeps his gaze downcast.  Her hand is soft and warm to the touch as her thumb swipes away his tears.  Of course she’s staying.  Her bleeding heart won’t let her leave.  He cries for her, her lost opportunities, her damn sympathetic selflessness.  But she surprises him again in what she utters; and in her words, he finds hope.

“You have always been enough for me.  I have always seen you.  The you who loves me and would do anything to protect me.  The you who acts tough because you’re scared of rejection.  The you who wishes you could change the past. The you who is more determined and smarter than you realize.  The you who has worked hard to conquer those shitty demons inside.  That’s who I see.”

She sighs and he feels her whole body tremble.

“Every time you used, I was terrified.  I was so scared that you wouldn’t wake up one day, that you’d stop breathing, that your heart would fail.  That I would lose you.  It made me angry, it’s why I pushed you so hard.  I wanted you to get sober for me.”

He meets her eyes then, their pretty grey glimmers in what’s left of the sunlight through the sheen of her tears.  In them he finds no pity, only benevolence.  Everything she has said, he has heard her say before.  He’s read it before.  But this is why it isn’t a complete déjà vu, it’s different.  It’s different because they are different.  They have grown and she confirms it with her next statement.

“It was selfish.  I wanted you to get sober, but you needed to do it for yourself.”

He reaches up to grasp her wrist, lightly squeezing in lieu of all the words he wants to say.

She lets the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever so slightly.

“And you did.  You succeeded.  I don’t know what you’ve been through these last few years, and maybe I’ll never know, but what I do know is that you came home.  You did what you had to and came back to me, and I am prouder of you than you can ever imagine.”

She presses her lips to his forehead and gathers him in her arms.  He allows himself to take comfort in her embrace because comfort is not happiness and is not so easily taken away.

He goes back to her apartment with her that night.  Their apartment.  It looks the same as the day he left.  He is simultaneously comforted and haunted by the familiarity.  This place that they made home together.  Where they laughed and fought.  Where he wasted his nights and she cared for him.  This is where he had joy and lost it.  This is where he left her.

She putters around the kitchen, putting the kettle on for tea.  As she pulls two mugs from the cabinet, he realizes that they’re the matching set they painted for each other on a date some lifetime ago.  She sees the recognition in his stare and begins to speak.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I kept everything the same.” She smiles timidly and her eyes are filled with earnest, “Everyone thought it was unhealthy, but it kept me sane.  They tried to convince me to move out of here, and I was adamant that I wouldn’t – couldn’t.  Because if you came home and found I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

She busies herself again, pulling out a tin of teabags and a sleeve of arrowroot cookies.

“And then as time went on and I started fearing the worst, I needed to hang onto my memories of you, of us.  So, everything stayed the same.  Even though I was moving forward with school and … eventually, Akitoki,” She glances downward, sheepish.  “Home was my constant.  It was me. It was you.  It was us.  It is us.”

He steps toward her. He has so many questions and a spark of hope is igniting in his veins.

“Why?”

The word hangs between them and he tries in vain to push that hope down, down, down.  It is such a simple word, and yet holds so much impact.

She lifts her eyes to meet his, grey colliding with amber, understanding pouring through.

“We met when I started my residency. He was a third-year.  At first, I didn’t pay him any mind, but he kept persisting.  Eventually I figured meeting for coffee wouldn’t hurt.” She pauses, reaching for his hand.  “You have to understand that you’d been gone for almost two years.  I was lonely.  And … and he was safe.”

She scoffs, grips his hand tighter, and leans fully on the counter.  

“He was a proper gentleman. Waited a month before he kissed me the first time, even asked permission before he did.  It was another month after that before we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend.  It was a bit of a surprise when he proposed on our anniversary.  Obviously, I said yes – you saw the ring.  Except, it felt wrong.  It was all wrong.  We hadn’t even talked about the future or even moving in together, hadn’t done more than kiss.  But I guess that’s part of propriety.  And yet, I said yes because it was safe, that stupid word.”

His mind is racing.  Safe is not a word he has ever been associated with. What does it even mean? He searches her face for a clue, and anxiously waits for her to continue.  This is a conversation they have not deigned to have yet in the three months since they’ve been friends again.  The kettle is boiling rapidly now, but he knows that it’ll automatically shut off.

“Then five months later, you called me and this feeling I hadn’t felt in so long came rushing back. You were alive.  It was like the clouds were finally parting after a heavy rain.  I didn’t know what to expect when I came to pick you up, and this tiny part of me told me not to go, but it was right.  I felt right again, but I was scared.  So I stayed away.  Then I heard from Sango and Miroku that you were working and doing well and I was missing out on that.  I broke off the engagement.  As much as he was sweet and safe … he wasn’t you.”

Tears are welling in her eyes and he feels his are getting misty as well.  He steps and pulls all in one motion, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His heart is pounding out of his chest and that spark of hope is now a flame.  

She draws in a haggard breath and mumbles against his chest.

He tilts his head down to look at her, silently pleading for her to repeat what she’s just said.  His ears picked up her message, but he needs to know for sure.

She tips her chin upwards and shyly brushes her lips against his and repeats herself a little more loudly, “I love you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes darken and she presses a kiss to his jaw.

“Because you’re you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away.”

He whimpers, “Kagome,”

She kisses him fully then, grasping his face to ensure he can’t pull away, not that he wants to.  His heart is exploding.  She has always been able to read him, know what he’s thinking. And she has always known what he needs most.  This kiss is full of promises, assurances.  This is real.

“You are important. You are loved.  You are worthy of it all.”

She guides him to her bedroom.  Their bedroom.  He sits on the edge of the bed in disbelief that he is back in this room.  He can hardly believe that this woman is standing before him with love in her eyes.  This amazing, beautiful, strong, resilient woman who is holding the door to happiness wide open.  He only has to cross the threshold.  He falters. Happiness is dangerous.  Happiness is temporary.  But she is here and he trusts her implicitly.  With her, happiness is feasible.

With one look into her deep stormy eyes, he makes a choice.

“Kagome.”

Her name.  The only word he seems capable of uttering.  In her name he promises to try.  Promises to treat her well, make up for the pain he has caused her.  Promises to try and see himself through her eyes.  Promises to be kinder to himself.  Promises to help build their life together back up.  He knows with her, they will succeed.

She caresses his face and drops her lips to meet his once again, resting her knees on either side of him. He clutches her waist and revels in the familiarity of her body pressed against his.  Their motions are slow, meticulous, not dictated by hormones and lust.  And they fall into a routine, a dance that hasn’t been done in years and yet they fall back into with practiced ease.

With every kiss she presses hotly into his skin, she whispers continuous affirmation.  

You are enough.

You are worthy.

You are mine.

I love you.

He finds words still impossible to formulate and voice, so he allows his actions to speak for him. Each caress, each kiss, each touch is full of reverence and adoration.  When he finally sinks into her and they become one, he truly feels like he is home.  And all of his feelings of unworthiness and self-loathing begin to ebb, for it is the love of this woman and her unwavering belief in him that he can begin to heal.

As they settle into each other, heavy with the lure of sleep, he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

She nestles into him closer and kisses his wrist.

For the first time, in a very long time, he feels worthy.  

FINAL NOTES:

I wanted to mention some things as a bit of a debrief to this story, if you will. This is a story that is very personal for me and is quite heavy. Hopefully the ending was enough of a pleasant one to offset the weight a bit.

The way I designed this story, Inuyasha and Kagome are separated during the toughest part of his recovery. The decision to stay with or leave a partner with addiction is a difficult one and can be different for everyone, especially because addiction is so highly stigmatized. A lot of the time the person struggling already carries guilt. Addiction so very often stems from trauma, depression, and/or other forms of mental illness and these need to be addressed first.

Regardless of whether you stay or go, it is important to set boundaries for yourself. Addiction is often labeled as a third-party to relationships because it attempts to wear down the people involved and whittle them down to their weakest and worst. If you are supporting someone through addiction and an active part of their recovery, it is vital to remember self-care and recognize when you need to say no and that it is okay to do so. It is NOT your responsibility to "cure" them.

If you are somebody who cares for someone struggling with addiction, I am happy to share resources that I have found helpful if you would like to reach out.

On another note, I do have ideas about where and what Inuyasha was up to during his three-year absence. It would probably contain heavier content than this piece, but also be a bit more fantastical. If the inspiration hits or if there’s interest, I’ll probably try and write it. Anyway, comments and likes are love. Thank you so much for reading my return to fan fiction!

[uservillanelle]

KILLING EVE 3x03 ― Bus Scene

Its been over 24 hours now since episode 3 aired and yeah... I’m still very shocked and I’m almost sure I dreamed all of it. I mean, what are the odds KE would do something like this and give US, the clowns, everything we’ve ever wanted?!? So I decided to make a separate post about the bus scene, because HELLO, this deserves a separate analysis/reaction. It just does, so here we go.

Last week I was really struggling to imagine how everything would play out, only because it seemed like a VERY random place for both of them to meet. A bus? Really? Let’s not forget the fact that they usually meet in episode 5 for the first time each season. It’s basically a tradition which has been set by previous showrunners. So not only have them meet EARLIER, but in a bus makes it so... UNEXPECTED! I had to think it through, because I know there’s pressure for each showrunner to keep things fresh and new and Suzanne did just that. Like she picked the LAST place Villanelle and Eve would meet and that’s soo surprising and shocking to us AND to Eve.

Villanelle just got the postcard for her next target in London, she travels there and next thing you know, she’s looking for a perfume. Now this is soo extra and sooo Villanelle and the fact that she’s looking to have a custom made perfume so she could meet Eve SENDS ME! 

How did Villanelle know Eve was taking buses, which one she was taking and at what time? Obviously, she stalked her AGAIN. Instead of doing her job, finding the target, she goes to London, probably spends few days there searching for Eve and preparing FIRST and only then after the intense row with Eve, THEN she goes after her target. Love comes first, job later. Gotta stan. And in the middle of that she has the nerve to say “I’m not here for you” sure, sweetie, whatever you say. 

Okay, so before I was thinking of HOW they would play it out. How their fight would be carried out and honestly after seeing it... that was exactly how and I can’t imagine now any other way they could’ve done it. Everything about the scene was just... chef’s kiss. Suzanne, Laura - sign me up for S4 already!

My jaw LITERALLY dropped when I saw Villanelle walking up to Eve in that bus, while swaying due to the movement and wearing that SMUG smile over her face... jesus, I need HELP! How dare she... and I don’t think due to all of the craziness and intensity Eve notice just how fucking hot Villanelle looked.. or maybe she did. 

The fact that Eve was texting Niko for the 100th time until she lifted her head up and spotted Villanelle and next thing you know she forgot everything about Niko and went to fight AND kiss the love of her life is just... VILLANEVE IS ENDGAME YOU GUYS!

Soo Villanelle did NOT expect Eve to attack her like this, because have you seen her OFFENDED hilarious face when Eve did?! I DIED several times, yet there’s something important that needs to be mentioned.. Villanelle didn’t hurt Eve. She didn’t punch back when Eve literally was hitting her with all her might going nuts. Villanelle knew full well Eve’s having an intense tantrum so she handled it like a pro and really, with minimum defence she only shoved Eve around a bit only to show WHO is in charge there. I mean... the way she grabbed Eve and started shoving her, or more like CARRYING her to the end of the bus while smirking/laughing at her only shows just how CONFIDETN she is about herself and that she was actually enjoying seeing this crazy side of Eve.

Also. THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. I gotta say.. in this scene in particular it worked soo damn well! I mean, Eve being shorter and Villanelle EFFORTLESLY handling Eve as if she was some child who’s having a tantrum is SOMETHING ELSE! 

Now the power play... we all know Villanelle is a TOP, it’s a fact. Get over it. And like... the way she pushed Eve down on the seat and climbed on top of her only to tell her to SMELL HER which basically means “Admit I’m powerful” “Admit I’m the TOP here” is completely another level for me... because how can you NOT kiss her in that moment?! And she WAS powerful, she’s clearly physically stronger than Eve, BUT.. as soon as Eve kissed her all that power shifted back to Eve and just like that Villanelle gone SOFT™ for Eve.... It’s what I love. I love one powerful badass bitch right until her girlfriend touches/kisses her. 

Okay, so I’ve been seeing people say that Eve kissed Villanelle to have her let her guard down. Yes, it probably is the case, but I also think she couldn’t help it. They had several moments like these when they were face to face and sooo painfully close and neither of them did anything and like.. I think the tension was building up ever since and this time... she just went for it and this way admitted her feelings towards Villanelle. But at the same time by doing so she gained the power back from Villanelle and not only left her completely dumbstruck but gave that intense HEADBUTT as a wake up call for both of them and US. I mean... I still can’t believe it happened... it had to be a dream and it was going so well.. until Eve woke all of us up, including Villanelle, who obviously was too overwhelmed to stick around and decided to get off the bus ASAP.

I just gotta say... the way they handled the kiss was PERFECT! This is no ordinary romantic couple having their first kiss, okay... this is VILLANEVE, OUR VILLANEVE having their first kiss and it’s crazy.. it’s intense and above all... its SURPRISING AS HELL. To everybody... and that’s how intense and shocking that both Eve and VIllanelle are STARING at each other, completely taken back by what is happening... because neither of them really expected it and neither did we and it’s happening... they are kissing and they hardly can comprehend it.... while at the same time neither of them wanting to give in and let go of the CONTROL both of them crave... like... JESUS! I have a feeling we might get an actual, way more emotional kiss at the end of the season and I am not prepared... 

Now the soundtrack... Strange Effect by Unloved is perfect choice.. I mean ALL Unloved sounds are sooo unique and amazing but THIS... I haven’t heard this one before and I wouldn’t be surprised if they created this song for THIS exact scene... and I’m all about it. Truly. The lyrics described the scene AND both of their feelings sooo damn well and they didn’t even have to say a word. That’s how powerful songs can be when they are used PROPERLY in a show. Their minds....

I know, I said it plenty of times already but I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE IT HAPPENED. like... the twitter fanbase was LITERALLY betting money on whether or not they will kiss this episode and I was like... COME ON, it can’t happen. I’m not going to be this clown all over again.. I can’t and it can’t possibly happen because it’s way too soon?! We literally waited for over 2 years, almost 3 years for a kiss and for some reason it feels like it’s too soon? Because we are not used to seeing them meet this early in the season and I’m like... I’m in utter shock and no matter how many thousands of times I watch the scene and the kiss... a part of me refuses to believe it’s real because... it’s too good to be true and they actually did it and... if it wasn’t canon before, Villaneve IS now. And only thinking about this... makes me want to cry. We got everything we’ve been waiting for... and it was only their FIRST kiss... yeah, I’m not going to survive this.

The post-bus scene and Eve watching Villanelle watch HER drive off is such an amazing way to conclude the scene... Vilanelle’s hopeful expression which is filled with wonder and then excitement as she can’t help but smile remembering what just happened is just... she is truly in love and NO ONE can deny it. I mean at this point just like Suzanne said... Villanelle will only want Eve MORE and I. AM. HERE. FOR. IT. Also Eve’s reaction... she might not be smiling right now, but she’s realizing what she did and that it’s too late to go back and she doesn’t really want to think/talk about it since it’s TOO MUCH (same Eve, same) but as soon as she gets back home and finds Villanelle’s bear with the recording... she finally GIVES IN and admits that yes, she WANTS Villanelle to be there. And let’s admit it... we know perfectly well just how the episode ended.. with Eve listening to Villanelle’s voice over and over again... closing her eyes and the rest is up to your imagination....

So overall... this scene made the entire episode soo much greater and other than that, we got PLENTY of Villanelle’s outfits, AT LEAST 7 this episode alone and I cannot handle it. Not only that.. we also got Villanelle and baby scene and her scaring Konstantin to death and their silly conversation which turned out to be a lot more complicated and serious than Villaenlle originally intended it to be. But more about all of it later in my upcoming review! 

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you have any post Edom reunion headcanons? this must be something so huge for Magnus

i have a few! my first one is that for a while alec just... won’t let magnus leave his sight. because he is protective and he already feels lowkey responsible especially because magnus didn’t catch a single fucking break in 3b, and alec has “everything about my loved one’s wellbeing is my responsibiltiy” syndrome so u know lmao. i was really disappointed that when alec woke up in the scene after the rescue and didn’t see magnus he didn’t rush to the apothercary, slightly wild and worried, just making sure that he is still there

but anyway fuck canon so this happened actually. for a while whenever alec wakes up he thinks that he accidentally fell asleep while studying a way to rescue magnus again, when magnus isn’t there. if he was already impossible with the cuddling and the I WANT TO BE TOGETHER IN THE MORNINGGGGGGG now it’s just straight up insanity

now for magnus obviously he feels the same way except angstier because for a while his mind simply cannot process that this is real and happening. that he’s safe and back home? that alec came back to rescue him? it feels too fucking insane, especially after just before that he had had his worst fear - alec leaving him - confirmed. he went from literal and figurative hell to the closest to heaven you can get on earth in a matter of a single day and it’s hard to wrap his head about it

and i’ve also talked about this before, but i do genuinely think that magnus never... realized how much he meant to alec before that. like, obviously, he knew that alec loved him, and just to be clear, it’s not alec’s fault, because alec has never been anything if not honest and clear about how he felt about him. but magnus is insecure. he was constantly thinking that alec would leave him, that he would eventually be too much for him (not only when he lost his magic, but also when he told him about his past lovers, when he told alec about his past, when he lost his high warlock position, when he didn’t want alec to go to alicante, every single time he was struggling with his mental health...) and he basically had that confirmed (mandatory disclaimer that this is also not alec’s fault and that alec did the right thing with the breakup. it’s just that like, the trauma is there, despite that not really being on alec) 

and then when alec showed up to rescue magnus, magnus couldn’t believe it. before alec showed up, magnus was shown talking to lilith, and lilith was talking about how he would be in edom forever like that was an indisputable fact, and magnus clearly also believed that to be true. it didn’t occur to him that alec would come to rescue him. he didn’t expect alec to go through the trouble, he thought it was over. and then alec showed up and that was shocking enough, but then not only that, but alec was LITERALLY WILLING TO STAY IN HELL WITH HIM FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE??? which like would be terrible because magnus would want to leave, but it’s one hell of a gesture, and magnus was very obviously shocked by that. he didn’t expect it. he didn’t dream of it, not even when he indulged himself in his happiest fantasies

so he’s also kind of wrapping his head around how much alec loves him??? and for a while he wakes up and he turns around and sees alec there and he’s just...... shocked. and humbled and he can’t help but reach out to touch alec, almost desperately, trying to make sure that his is real and he is there... which usually wakes alec up because he’s a light sleeper as he was raised a soldier and is usually always on the watch for any kinds of changes even as he’s sleeping

so alec snaps his eyes open when magnus touches his face and magnus is just like “sorry” and alec is like “it’s okay” and kisses his hand.... and eventually the both of them find themselves always falling asleep tangled up together and cuddling so they can make sure that they’re still there

and magnus in particular is still very emotional especially because again it was such a gesture and he feels overwhelmed for a while. like he will frequently just be in the kitchen and look at alec getting himself a carton of juice or something with the morning light hitting him and he’s just overcome with emotion and feels the absolute need to bring him as close as possible?? aaa

and also sometimes he has nightmares where he wakes up to alec beside him, but when he reaches out to touch alec dissolves and he finds himself back in edom, maybe even with his father...... haha i’m fine

anyway of course they get more chill with time as it wouldn’t be healthy to keep going like this and also like, magnus also wants to see his family, he didn’t think he would see cat or raphael or madzie again either, so he also wants to get out and see them as much as he can.... and slowly they readjust to their routine reality where the threaten of separation and trauma isn’t looming over their heads, and it goes back to normal and they don’t feel that constant overwhelming need to make sure the other is there and (in magnus’ case) that everything in the world is still there...

speaking of which magnus would probably go on a similar rampage as he did when he became mundane, because again, magnus just loves the world, its cultures, its food, its fauna and flora, its people, its languages, its places. and now he has magic so he is just like dragging alec or whoever else he’s with around from one continent to another with barely giving either of them the room to breathe because he just has that desperate feeling that he might lose his chance to see everything, at every second

but again like, he slowly chills. also, maybe this is what brings him to finally start going to therapy? like this anxiety isn’t good and he feels very off-center and lost for a while so he needs to stabilize himself

but yeah things slowly go back to normal. but what lingers is definitely magnus’ knowledge that alec loves him way beyond magnus could ever thought or comprehend, and in that sense, he becomes more confident in their relationship and it makes them stronger. also, therapy is a lasting effect because even if he started because of that small problem he soon realized that he had.... things to unpack. and after a while alec starts doing it too because he sees the good it does magnus, so... yeah. in that sense, it also brings them good things and make sure they are stronger both as a couple and individuals daoidsaoidsadajdaso im emo 

[alwaysmychoices]

This is the embarrassingly long rant on my favourite passages attached with a few questions.

A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey 

Unspoken

Tonight, under the soft moonlight glow, Ethan didn’t look like the confident doctor she’d met in Edenbrook. Concern etched itself into his handsome features, and a lingering air of defeat and disappointment followed him like a cruel haunting.

For me, this passage is a trigger. Ethan definitely cares for Charlie and he would bulldoze the town looking for her when she’s drunk and alone in a bar. But he would refuse to act on his feelings when she’s sober. But the realisation that Raf or Bryce might think differently strikes him and sets into motion a series of incidents that culminate in the chapter "Blind Date". How strategic was Naveen's plan to bring up Bryce?

Goodbye

This was the last time he would have Charlotte Greene in his bed. He wouldn’t wake up again to her wild, blonde curls in his face...

...

“Stay the night,” he whispered. He couldn’t let her go now…

I love him.

The realization hit Charlie with enough force to knock her down. And then the tears came, and the desperation was complete.

Charlie Greene loved Ethan Ramsey, and she had already lost him.

...

She wouldn’t… he tried to calm himself as he moved back to the bedroom. She must have gotten dressed and gotten coffee or something. Surely, she would be back. She wouldn’t have gone without a goodbye, and this couldn’t end with a midnight dash out of his apartment. It was too meaningful. It deserved a proper send-off, a proper discussion.

But Ethan didn’t have to look for an answer for long.

...

He never left Charlie because she left him first.

To be very honest, this chapter did things to me that I was not prepared for. I had to take a break before I came back, reread it and wondered if I could accept it. It hurt me, it reminded me of incidents that I didn’t even know I still carried in my heart. The fact that Charlie, and not Ethan left first, jolted me into the realisation that unlike PB’s conclusion, you just don’t go back to being an attending and an intern after that. But now I believe, that was necessary. They had to grow as people. How difficult was the decision to make her leave on your part (especially when the canon provided an easier alternative)?

With and Without

Blind Date

Once his eyes landed on her, he couldn’t tear them away. He’d seen Charlie at varying states, some more vulnerable or confident than others. He knew her worst and best. She was never more beautiful than she was peacefully asleep on his bed, but surely, this came close.

But she wasn’t made up for him.

Could I assume that this chapter is the fulcrum on which the series rests? I think it is the culmination of the reactions elicited for the first time in Ethan in “Unspoken”.  Further, the story could have gone very differently at two points- firstly, when Ethan decided to join Baz and secondly, when Charlie decided to leave her date to take care of Ethan. Their choices, especially Charlie’s in the end, established that they were too far gone to return at this point.

Ethan shook his head, “She doesn’t want to be around me. I hurt her. I meant to hurt her. I want her to find better than me.” His voice wavered, thick with emotion.

“She misses you, too,” Charlie professed breathlessly, suddenly aware of every missing piece she’d been looking for with David.

She missed Ethan. She’d missed Ethan from the moment she lost him in the spring.

I cannot even begin to explain how beautifully sad this was!

Hangover Cure

Charlie was lounging comfortably on the couch, Jenner draped across her lap as she scrolled through menus on her smartphone. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun in stark contrast to the sleek, sophisticated dress that hugged her frame. Ethan realized, with a deep sigh of relief, that he was the one who got to see her like this, not the one who had touched her knee at the bar last night.

...

They neared the end of the season when Charlie’s eyes grew heavy, and Ethan watched her squirm out of the corner of his eye as she tried to stay awake. When Jenner joined them on the couch and cuddled into Charlie, any hope of evading a nap was lost.

I love domestic scenes of Ethan and MC. But what you did here is exceptional. I think you have turned Ethan’s apartment into this sanctuary, where they can be everything they want to. Primal, elemental, unbridled and honest.

“You’ve been wearing that dress since 8 pm last night. You deserve a change of clothes, Charlie,” Ethan was as he sat on the edge of the couch, massaging his temple as if giving little thought to the act.

...

Maybe that’s what made the gesture so startling.

...

It was ridiculous that she was so moved. She’d left David in the cold last night just to make sure Ethan was alright, and after dragging him home, she’d stayed with him as he stumbled and vomited. She’d waited all night, in fact. In contrast, he offered her a pair of sweatpants.

But there was a sense of familiarity and intimacy that she hadn’t expected.

She’d only worn his clothes after having sex with him. Now, she got to wear them just because he was worried about her comfort.  

I know you ease into angst right after that. That isn't fluff in its conventional sense. And you maintain that you generally don't write fluff. But those lines just warmed my heart in ways I cannot explain. How do you do this?

“I’m sorry you had to leave your date to take care of me,” Ethan may have hated that she was having a good time with someone else, but he did regret ruining it. He didn’t dare tell her why he’d been so reckless at the pub, but deep down, he suspected that she knew that it was his jealousy.

...

“I didn’t have to,” Charlie chuckled softly, much to Ethan’s surprise...

...

“I went because…” Charlie stopped herself before she could say something regrettable. He noted the abrupt stop and waited with bated breath before she explained, “I came to get you because I care about you, and I was worried. I wasn’t running from a bad date or forced to see you. I decided to go.”

I know from experience it’s the absolute opposite of easy to be in a relationship without label. This scene is them treading that path, without even knowing that they are already doing it. “They didn’t need to explain what they were doing or why they were there. They just let it happen.”

After Hours

I (literally) love every sentence in this chapter.

There was a profound, blissful moment of clarity where Charlie suddenly understood that this had been inevitable. This kiss – as surprising as it felt – had been coming on from the moment she picked him over David. It had been written in stone the second she made the decision to stay with him, and their bumbling attempts at friendship had been merely a stepping stone.

One more reason I felt “Blind Date” is the fulcrum of this entire series. I would love to know if you think differently. Do you think David had any remote chance for even a couple of dates?

“The ethical and professional dilemmas are not lost on me, but I want you more than I want to be right. We can’t be open about it with the people around us, but I want a relationship with you, Charlie.”

Finally we have the manifestation of the growth that has been taking place. A few months ago, he would have been apologetic, if not already buying his ticket to a different continent. It has been difficult, it has been messy, and yet he is finally there, which is what matters. 

His thumbprints marked her body and mind, and his constant presence in her mind morphed him into a fantastical beast – elusive and distant. She manipulated the image in her mind, painting him as a hero and a villain, but just before she could be convinced of either, the mirage slipped away to her barebone memories of tender smiles as he pulled her close and apologetic eyes as he distanced himself.

This was “chef’s kiss”. It was like something out of an Anna Karenina or a Wuthering Heights. Would love to hear your thoughts on this passage. 

Further, the scenes in the hospital, where Charlie constantly avoided Ethan, unfold before me as unending passages and hallways, almost like the long takes in some of my favourite movies. It added to the indecision in Charlie’s mind and the endless interlude in Ethan’s.

Ethan stood in a state of shock, all of the hopeful warmth replaced with the bone-chilling absence of it. He failed to comprehend the devastation he felt, running just as she did back into his head.

I knew it wasn’t the end. And I also knew it shattered my heart into a million pieces, just as when Charlie has left in “Goodbye”. However,  completely understand Charlie��s fears and vacillation.

Crying in the Rain

Loving Ethan was inescapable.

She’d fallen in love with him a million little times over hundreds of days, and despite her best attempts, she was always just a little more in love with him. He was an unreal figure in her world, so shrouded in her own folklore of him that every peak of him being a real, vulnerable human being only endeared him more to her.

...

The starry-eyed, ambitious student reading his textbooks couldn’t have imagined that, with every small choice she made in his favor, she would tie herself irrevocably to her hero.

This is so beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. It has the tone of an old world romance where the knight must inevitably have his heart broken by that ideal woman. Here we have a reversal in the trope.

“You are a risk. I’m terrified of getting hurt. When we ended last time, I was devastated. I cried for days and spent weeks trying to feel okay again, and that was after just one weekend,” Charlie’s words tumbled out of her mouth, rushed and eager. She felt like she needed to tell him everything, like unburdening herself and her insecurities was the only way forward, “I went on a date with someone and spent the rest of my night taking care of you just because I would rather be with a sick, drunk you than anyone else. I keep telling myself to stay away from you, but I always end up at your front door.”

...

“When I actually almost lost you, I was so devastated that I wasn’t afraid anymore,” Charlie confessed, “I understand if you changed your mind,” she added with a crack in her voice because, really, she didn’t understand.

I don’t think I have to even explain the inclusion of this in my list of favourite passages. As this scene unfolded, I was tense, euphoric, I was Ethan and Charlie at the same time. 

I really appreciate this chapter and the one before for how you have held your readers’ attention throughout. I gobbled them up first and then came back to savour them. And yet, never for once did I find them dreary.  I think these were your best in this series.

And I have one last question. Who do you relate with the most (Charlie or Ethan) when you speak of their fears and dilemmas? I mean, is it even possible to choose one?

No, no, no – it is absolutely not embarrassing. If anything, my excitement for getting this was embarrassing.

I’m going to be honest. You actually picked up narrative elements I hadn’t really paid attention to in the aggregate, so I had to think about them and really appreciate the work as a whole (which I rarely do when I’m writing chapter by chapter). I ended up rereading some chapters to refamiliarize myself and put myself back in that headspace, and that was super fun.

So, for your first question about “Unspoken,” Naveen certainly didn’t anticipate inadvertently starting an on-and-off again love affair, but he absolutely intended to rile Ethan up. Naveen is very observant, so when Ethan and Charlie were secretly treating him, he noticed a lot about the pair. In my mind, he was the first to think they were compatible and the first to realize their relationship had the potential to be meaningful and long-lasting.

When I wrote A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, I did not plan on writing With and Without. Towards the end, I had ideas, but the storyline was so jumbled that I wasn’t sure if I would take on such a long, ambitious project. Instead, I thought I would publish those individual ideas as their own work that formed a semi-series. So, while Ethan’s jealousy triggered his behavior in WaW, it wasn’t necessarily my intention.

However, Ethan realizing that Charlie had other romantic options sparked their relationship because Ethan suddenly realized that this thing he had with Charlie wasn’t safe. Up until that time, their relationship had limits almost entirely set by him, and it was well in his comfort zone. There were blips like Miami, but overall, Ethan controlled that part of him that wanted more of Charlie.

But really, their relationship didn’t make sense. They were too comfortable, too familiar, and frankly too connected for mere coworkers. They spent a lot of time behaving like they had a romantic relationship only to snap out of it and remember they were “platonic.” Unconsciously, they were committed to each other, and there was comfort in mutual pining. So, when Ethan realized that Charlie wasn’t on the same page as him and could replace their relationship with a real romantic partnership, things changed. The illusion that Charlie would remain stagnant with him shattered.

First, he had to acknowledge that he hated learning that Charlie had other suitors, and if he did that, he had to acknowledge that he hated them because he wanted to be them. That breaking of barriers allowed them to investigate their relationship and act on repressed feelings, which they’re still doing 24 chapters later.

 Now, for the ending of A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, I never really considered any other ending for several reasons. Firstly, I knew that the relationship had to end because, while Ethan had grown, he hadn’t grown to a point where he could accept a relationship with Charlie and work at Edenbrook. If Naveen hadn’t survived, I think they could have made it work. Ethan wouldn’t have gone back to work as quickly, and they would have had more time to figure out where they stood. But Ethan would have always gone back to work, and there would always be a strain because of that. At the end of A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, Charlie was not enough to stop him, and she knew that.

That brings me to my second reason which is that I just didn’t think they could have a casual ending. Don’t get me wrong, I love the angst of Book 1’s ending, but in canon, they had one night together knowing they had a time limit. It was a very different situation. In A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, they were at the start of a relationship without an expiration date. They were romantic and hopeful, and then it was ripped away. And notably, it was ripped away by Ethan. Charlie couldn’t just blame fate because she watched Ethan make that decision.

Both characters were in pain, but they experienced it very differently. Ethan made the choice, and though he expressed self-hatred, he didn’t really consider staying. For him, their last night is bittersweet but necessary, and he asked Charlie to stay the night so that he could get closure and mark the significance of their relationship. But Charlie didn’t make this decision. She wanted to stay together. Exchanging awkward, sad goodbyes in the morning would have been extremely painful. They couldn’t both get what they wanted or needed from their breakup, and Charlie got to pick because she acted first. This was vaguely hinted to earlier in the series when Ethan promised her that he wouldn’t leave.

Ultimately, I think it’s the lack of closure that prompted the follow-up series. If they had mutually agreed to end things, Charlie wouldn’t have gone to him on the night of “Just Tonight.” There’s also a lot of unresolved pain and distrust because of that night, which Charlie and Ethan haven’t touched yet. Now that we know that Ethan’s mom left him at a very young age, there’s a new dynamic to Charlie leaving that I didn’t even consider at the time but hope to bring up later.

 100%, without “Blind Date,” the rest of the series could not have happened. Now that I’m writing it out, I see that Ethan only knows how to act when what he wants is threatened. “Drinking Games” established that Charlie and Ethan couldn’t go back to the relationship they had Pre-A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey. It only took one night as friends to put them back in danger. When Ethan decided to push Charlie away in “Midnight Call,” they had to live without each other again (which they both hated). Charlie doesn’t have Ethan’s skill for wallowing in longing and disappointment, so she had to do something.

David certainly had the potential for a handful dates – maybe more if she was determined enough. But no, he would never be comparable to Ethan. If Ethan ever found out, he would have been just as hurt as in “Blind Date,” but it still would have taken another catalyst to actually push him to Charlie. Truthfully, I think it would have happened. I think Charlie and Ethan were constantly escalating their behavior, and at some point, they would reach a point where they had to try again or had to sever ties.

Coming into this, I knew that there was a problem with the pattern of Charlie always trying for him and Ethan not being in a place where he could try, too. That wasn’t sustainable, and if they started another relationship in that state, an epic meltdown would follow. Ethan had to reach a point where he was capable of taking the risk, and a lot of that growth happened in “Blind Date” and “Hangover Cure.”

 I’m really happy you noticed that they’re so free and happy in Ethan’s apartment. Especially in the next few chapters, that will be even more prominent. Domestic/borderline fluff (because, if I try fluff, it just gets sad in the next paragraph) is so much fun to write, and I’m excited to touch on that more.

 Also, yes, I don’t even think I know how to explain Ethan and Charlie’s relationship. At that point, they were in a very messy, complicated and unlabeled relationship. Early on, Charlie’s friends warned her against pursuing Ethan again, and I would do the exact same thing. But there was no way Ethan or Charlie would ever stay away from each other permanently.

 For your last question, I relate to both, but if it had to be one, I would relate most to Charlie. She leans much more into the anxiety and complexities of her problems, which I do as well. She feels them very intensely whereas, to some extent, Ethan’s monologues are a bit more removed. Even when he’s making devastating decisions, he separates his duty from his emotions, and he decides which of the two to act on. He also has a penchant for blaming himself, which is something I’m trying to stop doing. Like Ethan, I have a tendency to remove myself from situations when I feel I’m going to make a mistake or am afraid of intimacy/rejection/etc. But most notably, they both keep those fears and dilemmas inside (I’m very guilty of doing that), and that’s what they have to change. When I’m writing Charlie, I like to use stream of consciousness and tap into anxiety. I pay much more attention to the physical/emotional reactions of a thought or action, but for Ethan, it’s more thoughtful and retrospective. Charlie’s reactions are the ones I have in the moment, but Ethan is who I am when I am mulling over something later or have to compartmentalize and function in a painful moment.  

 I love all the passages you picked out! I actually ended up putting one of them on my whiteboard above my desk because I remembered how much I liked it. A few times, I read them and genuinely thought, “I wrote that???” I’m sorry that this response is so long, but once I started, I couldn’t stop myself. I actually had a lot of fun doing this, and I think stopping to appreciate the work in its entirety helps me plan for its future. If you have any other questions or anything, feel free to reach out again!

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[nev3rfound]

sent from above, or another planet : b.b

brief summary: being the goddess of love and beauty, you leave Asgard after the death of your mother to seek comfort from your childhood friend, Thor, only to find something you’ve been longing for from another. 

word count: 1.9k requested: yes by @saturngirlz - I hope I did the idea justice and that you like it G! warnings: none that I’m aware of 

* masterlist of sorts * 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you walk through the Bifrost. 

You take one last longing look at Asgard, your home, where everything you’ve ever known remains. Heimdall nods as you step forward, facing ahead as you continue walking toward the bright light until everything turns dark. 

Looking down beneath you the ground is damp. There is a lack of colour in the scenery surrounding you as stars line the evening sky. You laugh lightly as you pick up the skirt of your dress, walking toward the building in front of you, the one Thor always said you were welcome to. 

“Hold on, Sleeping Beauty who are you?” A voice booms as you stand in front of the building as you lower your skirt. 

Your eyes wander around, searching for the source of the voice, but then it whistles. “I’m up here, sweetheart. Just, look up.” Lifting your gaze you see a small device as it whirs, locking with your face. 

“Are you trapped in a tiny box?” You ask quizzingly before the sound of laughter erupts down through the voice, a laugh you could never forget. “Thor! Who trapped you in the box?!” You exclaim before the voice disappears and the doors beside you open. 

Stepping back you watch as two figures walk out. 

Thor opens his arms as he smiles brightly. “If it isn’t Y/n!” Thor laughs as you run over, being grateful for the warm embrace as you struggle to let go. “What brings you to Midgard?” He asks as you pull away and immediately he notices the tears staining your cheeks. 

“My Mother she, she’s gone.” You mutter and lower your head, letting the tears fall as Thor places his arm around you, ushering you inside and out of the cold. 

“Mind telling me who she is yet, Thor?” Glancing behind your shoulder you notice the man with the glowing chest. He huffs loudly as you remove yourself from Thor, stepping forward. 

“My name is Y/n, I am the Goddess of Love and Beauty. Most call me Venus, but I prefer my actual name.” You shrug your shoulder as the man before you loses control of his senses as his jaw hangs open. “Pleasure to meet you glowing man.” You laugh lightly as you turn around, following Thor inside. 

“There’s another God in my compound. I, another one?” Tony mutters to himself as he follows the two of you as you talk together about old treasured memories. 

Pulling your skirt up you follow Thor into the small box as it moves, rising you both upwards as he smiles down to you. “It is good to see you again, Y/n. Shame it’s not under better conditions.” He mutters and you nod along.

“Any excuse to come visit my best friends,” You reply, but then you pause. “is Loki here?” You try to hide the hope in your tone as you haven’t seen Loki in years since he disappeared. 

Thor shakes his head slowly. “He’s not I’m afraid, I wish I could tell you where he was.” You watch closely as Thor wears grief heavy in his eyes, something you knew all too well. 

“At least you’re here.” You rest your hand on his upper arm as he smiles softly to you. 

The doors open and you step out, only to be greeted by several pairs of eyes. 

“So you’re telling me she’s a Goddess? Like the shit I studied in school?” One man speaks up as he points to you, and Thor shakes his head. 

“No Sam, you didn’t study dear Y/n in school, she would’ve been too busy slaying the demons that came through the Bifrost that one time,” Thor trails off as you raise an eyebrow to him. “okay, the several times I was talking to Heimdall.” 

You laugh as you shake your head. “You never were the smartest one, Lightnin’” Even now you still remember the nickname you gave Thor when you were growing up. Unlike most of your childhood memories, that is one you’ll always treasure. 

“Okay, so you’re a warrior Goddess?” Sam asks and you nod as if it were nothing. 

“Pretty much. Mind if I stay here a while?” Glancing back Thor shakes his head and slowly you look around the room at all of the faces, your eyes finishing on the bright blue eyes concealed by dark hair. “How about you?” Motioning to the man he rises, exposing an arm made of entirely metal. 

“I don’t mind.” He speaks up as he rests his hands in his pockets. 

“That settles it then,” Thor pats your back causing you to wobble on your feet. “let me get a room made up for you, and something else to wear.” 

*

It had been a few months since you arrived at the compound. Your stay was only going to be a temporary measure, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave when you finally felt settled amongst these people. 

Over the months you had been learning Archery with Clint, teaching Sam about who you really are compared to the Goddess’ he studied in school, had girls nights with your favourite drink- one not suited to humans you learnt and wondered about Bucky constantly. 

Despite being the Goddess of love, you couldn’t say you had the best luck. On Asgard, no one felt worthy to love you, that no one could reach a standard they created for you without any consent on your behalf. It led to a lonely life, and once your Mother died you had no ties to your home, so why stay? 

There was something about Bucky you couldn’t put your finger on. Was it his distant attitude that was enticing? Or how in moments when he was himself, it was like talking to an old friend? 

All you knew was the man you met was not the soldier he talks about in shame. “I was a monster, Y/n.” Bucky told you one night as you both sat on the roof, sipping drinks together. 

It wasn’t like Bucky to be so candid, but with you, he felt comfortable. He wasn’t sure if it was because you’re an actual Goddess, but seem human that comforted him. All he knew was he didn’t want to lose you, not when he felt himself finally opening up.

“You weren’t, Bucky.” You stated to him as you turned to face him, taking your eyes off of the stars and onto his eyes, seeing a solar system of emotions running through them. “We all have fought for reasons we can’t justify, but that doesn’t make us monsters.” 

Your words stuck with him from that night on, he couldn’t forget the sincerity in your eyes, how your hand rested on top of his as if it were nothing. He was falling, and unsure where he was going to land. 

Standing with Clint outside you continue your archery session. “Okay, a little higher,” He nudges your elbow as you focus on the target before you. “deep breath,” His hand rests before pulling away, signalling for you to shoot. It hits the centre of the target and he claps his hands. “Nice work!” 

As you smile to him the sound of thunder looms. You quickly turn on your feet seeing a portal opening, burning fire around the grounds as Clint grabs your arm, but you shake it off. “I can handle it! Get inside!” You yell as he runs on to alert everyone else.

Covering your eyes with your arm you step closer, feeling the heat wrapping through your hair. “Y/n, we need you in Asgard.” A voice pleads and you lower your hand seeing Heimdall before you. “We don’t have much time, Loki he, he’s back.” 

“What, how I, I thought he was gone?” You cannot comprehend it all, but Heimdall wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. “I must tell Thor, I can’t leave without him knowing.” 

“There isn’t time!” He yells as you step closer, unaware of Thor running toward you. “You must come now, he’s destroying everything.” 

Wanting to glance back you hesitate as the heat increases around you, clouding your thoughts. “Y/n!” Thor screams and you turn around, seeing his eyes wide with horror as Bucky is close on his tail. “It’s a trap, don’t, don’t go.” He yells and you step forward, away from the portal. 

But it was never going to be that easy. A hand grips your arm, burning through your flesh as you scream in agony. Bucky steps forward, but Thor blocks him off. “You’ll die, Bucky.” Thor states bluntly, but seeing you scream, a warrior breaking under the hold of someone else isn’t a sight he can stand. 

“Then at least I’ll die doing something worthy.” Bucky mutters before running forward, holding his metal arm out through the flames surrounding you and throwing Heimdall back into the portal. 

You fall to the ground, clutching your arm as you struggle to feel anything, shock taking over your system. 

Thor rushes to your side, hiding the sight of your arm from your vision. “It’s alright, Bucky did it.” Thor hushes you as he glances up, seeing Bucky panting heavily as he clutches his side, not wanting you to notice the wound growing. 

Turning your head you weakily smile to the soldier. “You saved me?” You ask softly as Bucky kneels down beside you, taking a hold of your cheek in his hand. 

“Of course, doll. Soldiers look out for one another,” He smiles to you as he notices your arm, knowing it won’t heal. “We need to get Shuri.” Turning his focus to Thor, Bucky continues to give orders, not caring if it isn’t right to boss a God around, especially if it is concerning you. “Go to Tony, he’ll get her here.” 

“Bucky, I, I’ll be okay.” You whisper to him as you smile softly, but Bucky shakes his head. 

“This isn’t how this ends, doll. You’ve got too many stories to tell me before that happens.” He jokes to ease your mind as your eyes begin to close. “I’ll see you soon, Y/n.” 

*

Walking through the corridor you hold the crate of beer in one hand as you smile to yourself before pushing the door open. 

The sight before you differs from the usual set up you share. Rather than two chairs and a cooler, there are blankets, a small sofa and candles decorating the floor. “Thought I’d make the effort since you’re in the all clear.” Bucky rises from the sofa, a big grin on his face as he takes the beers from you. “I thought they said no heavy lifting?” 

“Well, they misjudged how strong this is.” Motioning to the vibranium that now makes up your forearm you smile, realising the two of you now match in an unlikely way. 

“Come on,” Bucky takes your hand in his, leading you over to the sofa as you curl up against him. “I think you owe me a few stories since you’re still here,” He smiles down at you as you roll your eyes.

“Don’t get cocky with me, Bucky. I could easily pull a disappearing act.” You joke and Bucky shakes his head.

“Not a chance in the universe doll, I’m not risking that again.” Leaning down Bucky kisses you softly as your metal arms rest against each other. “Who’d of thought? Bucky Barnes and a Goddess?” He shakes his head as you lean up. 

“Who’d of thought, Y/n and a Soldier.” You joke back as he lifts his arm, allowing you to curl up close to him. “How about I tell you the time Loki turned into a snake and Thor nearly killed him?” 

Laughing lightly, Bucky nods. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of your stories, doll.” 

[multisfabulis]

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

Freed (Chapter 7/7)

Word Count: 8737

TW: Referenced child abuse

And with the release of this chapter lies the end of this story.

This took me almost a year and nine months to finish and it’s been a rollercoaster. Despite the mental and emotional highs and lows, I’m glad I committed myself to working on this until its completion and I can’t wait to work on the other projects I’ve got lined up!

As a final note, I apologize for the word vomit that is the architecture/interior design descriptions. It was in the middle of writing those that I realized this is a major weakness of mine because my mind cannot comprehend something of that scale. I also have no artistic sense at all so a lot of set drops are based off what I'm visualizing in my mind so there's bound to be many mistakes.

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     The sound of rolling waves was like music to Ven’s ears. Water ebbed and flowed along the shore as she breathed in the salty air. She opened her eyes to see fluffy white clouds scattered across an endless sea of blue, both above and below. An early spring breeze blew through, ruffling her hair and clothes. She took a deep breath and, steadying herself, tentatively walked towards the ocean.

     It had been a little over a week since her and Ferreth’s return from Thal Esari. They left mere hours after Filaurel’s ruling, not wanting to spend more time than they already had by staying an extra day. She managed to finish reading Thessalia’s journal during the trip back and she had more questions than answers. The final entry was dated a day or so before her death and she still hadn’t made a decision on what to do with her. Rereading the last words she wrote felt weird, the image of her mother writing in her journal whilst not knowing it’d be the last imprint she’d leave in the world present in her mind. At least she knew that she’d never know what her fate would be if Thessalia survived and it may never be completely okay.

     She also learned of something that shocked her. Something she had honestly never thought of but made so much sense looking back on it. It wasn’t just because of her hatred for Vlixeoxs, her contempt for her ran deeper than that. She was meant to be a second chance but it was dashed the moment she saw what she was. She was still coming to grips with what that bombshell revealed and it scared her to know how cruel someone could be to a child.

     She shook her head to stop herself from going further. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about those dark thoughts. What she really needed to focus on was the limits in which her power could go. She never gave much thought as to what she could really do until she began wondering a few nights ago. Were the things she did just part of a dream or were they real? It was hard for her to believe she was that strong but she kept itching to try and do the marvels she had done in the dream. Today was the day she’d find out if there was more to her power she believed possible or not.

     She stopped walking when the water reached her ankles. She nervously swallowed as she let out a shaky breath. Looking behind her to see if anyone was watching, she closed her eyes and held out her hands.

     She thought of how her glaive looked, the weight and feel of it. How sharp its blade was, how tall it stood, she even remembered the tiny scratches on its hilt. She then willed her power to try and recreate her beloved weapon. She felt a weight in her hands almost immediately after she ordered it and opened her eyes. In her hands was a pitch black glaive made of darkness.

     Her eyes widened in amazement as she examined the glaive. It felt solid and was light as a feather, not like the one sitting at home. She ran her fingers along the edge of the blade, realizing just how sharp it was. It even had the ribbon she tied around the top end of the pole. This was a glaive, a weapon she made with her power, something she could do all along but never the courage to do it.

     She arced it up in the air, a fluid motion she hadn’t experienced before. Then she spun it above her head in one hand and passed it on to the other. She was beginning to really enjoy how smooth her regular moves flowed so effortlessly. There was just one more thing she needed to try out.

     Tossing it high up, she waited for the perfect moment to show itself. Once the blunt end of the pole faced her, she kicked it forward with all her might. It was sent flying several feet ahead and, right before it sank into the ocean, she attempted to summon it to her hand. It came back like a boomerang, the force and surprise at how easy it was causing her to stumble back a bit.

     She held the glaive up above her, looking at it in wonder. This was incredible to her, being able to create anything she set her mind to and with such ease! It may only be the first thing she planned on testing out but she was excited all the same. She dismissed the glaive and it dispersed into dark wisps from her hand.

     Now it was time for the second thing she remembered doing in the dream. She closed her eyes again and imagined a wall behind her. The wall had dozens of daggers, swords, and whatever else she could think of trained up at the sky. Once the image was etched in her mind, she raised her arms. Barely any sound was made as she finished summoning the wall and turned around to see it.

     Shock and awe filled her being as she marveled at her creation. The wall was tilted up towards the sky and it spanned the width of the beach. There were spikes protruding out of the surface, appearing about ready to fire. All she needed to do was lift a hand and wave it.

     So she did just that. She turned back around, raised a hand up, and pointed two fingers at the sky. Her mouth curled up into a playful smile as she eagerly braced herself for the magic that was about to happen. Like pulling the trigger of a crossbow, she shot a barrage of dark bladed weapons high into the sky. They flew ahead in an arc and landed in the ocean, dissolving into wisps once more.

     Adrenaline coursed through her body as she tried to keep herself calm. Her hands shook, butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, and her heart pounded against her chest. This may have been becoming too much for her but she wanted to keep going. How she wasn’t bouncing all over the place was anyone’s guess.

     Time for the third and final phase. The thing she never ever thought would be possible, even if she knew how the other two worked. This was something she’d been looking forward to the most and, if she could do it, it’d be a miracle. It didn’t take much for her to remember the image because how could she forget such a sight? A weight was placed on her back and she wanted to squeal in delight.

     She glanced over her shoulder. Two giant black wings were attached to the middle of her back, beads of darkness dripping off them onto the sand below. They weren’t feathered but they didn’t need to be to look beautiful. They were like a smooth onyx gem that shone a slight purple tinge when the light hit them right. She had only caught a glimpse of them in the moonlight from the dream so seeing them on a bright day like today made this moment all the more special.

     She took in a deep, shaky breath, excited for what was happening next. Her wings lifted themselves higher and higher before coming down with a tremendous whoosh. Sand blew away from her as she flew up in the air.

     She stopped just above where the trees’ canopy was. Her wings flapped behind her as she took in her surroundings. It was breathtaking to see the beach, the forest, the ocean, everything from a new perspective and she loved it. Now she could start to really have some fun with this newfound ability.

     She flew under the rocky cliff that overshadowed the beach, weaving through the crags rising up from the ocean below. Then she soared on up to the clouds, bobbing in and out of them and feeling the wind and dew on her face. She swooped down to the sea and glided above its surface, sticking her hand in to feel the cool water go through her fingers. This was everything she could’ve ever dreamed of and she could do this at any time she wanted.

     Then she had an idea. It was, admittedly, a very dumb and very risky idea because of how much danger she’d be putting herself in but the chance of it working was there. If it panned out, it’d be extraordinary.

     She drifted up several feet above the water. Anxiety began to grow in her stomach as she realized just how dangerous her idea was. She could very well drown if this went poorly, due to her inability to swim. It could be hours or even days before someone found her and it’d be too late at that point.

     No, she couldn’t think like that. This might work after all and she’ll have been worrying over nothing. She attempted to settle down her nerves before steeling herself for what was to come. Then, after relaxing her shoulders and steadying her breathing, she dove into the ocean.

     It was like being in the swamp again, except she could see this time. Light filtered in from above, giving the underwater a crystal blue hue. There were many different plants and coral and algae and they were all so vibrant and colorful. Schools of fish quickly swam away when she glanced at them. It was so pretty to look at but she needed to get back up to the surface.

     Her wings managed to stay with her after her dive and they were beating as hard as they could to help her. Her lungs began to burn from the lack of air as she tried to swim up, her arms and legs feeling like lead weighing her down. Fear started to set in, her heart about ready to stop at any moment. A burst of strength came to her once she got close to the surface and it gave her wings the power they needed to break through.

     She shot out of the water like an arrow, sailing up several feet. Water droplets clung to her wings, trailing down till they fell back into the ocean. She drew them in and quickly unfurled them, shaking the last few drops off them. The sun cast her shadow across the water and she couldn’t help liking what she saw. That was her, her and her power, and she didn’t feel ashamed.

     She flew back to shore, an exuberant smile on her face. Her idea worked, it wasn’t a failure. Heck, everything in her dream wasn’t a dream, it was all real. She had done those things and they were all her.

     All her life, she had been shamed for being a Vlixeox. Her eyes, her power, they were things that alerted others of her race. She could only do so much with her eyes but she could hide her power. She could pretend it didn’t exist, it wasn’t a part of her, until she got home, where she felt safe enough to let the mask fall. She hated having to hide it but she also hated having it.

     Every time she looked in a mirror, she was reminded of it. How she, a Vlixeox, was living among people who were normal, elves. The mirror reflected back everything she wasn’t. Even if they tolerated her existence, just seeing them go about their daily lives made her aware of how different, how other she was. It was a constant struggle to hide the parts that gave her true nature away and pretend to be like one of them and it almost killed her.

     It was only when she took a chance and helped Eric with her power back in Brinegarde she didn’t have to hide anymore. He accepted her as she was and treated her like she was his friend. Her once tiny world grew after meeting him, he brought her out of the darkness and into the light. It’s because of his kindness she found people that didn’t care about what she was and she was happy.

     Maybe it was because of her time here she felt comfortable knowing her power was a part of her. There was no need to conceal it anymore. She never allowed herself to have fun with it but today changed all that. It felt so nice and wondrous and…liberating to enjoy this and having this and being this. She didn’t know if she’d ever be completely okay with being a Vlixeox but she figured she was on the right track.

     Her wings faded away once she was safely back on land. She looked over at the forest beyond the docks and her smile dropped. There, just before the trees made way to the clearing, was Ferreth.

     A surprised scream escaped from her mouth and she jumped back, her butt landing on the wet sand. He started laughing as she drew her hood up to hide her face. Her face felt warm, no doubt from the blush she knew she had. She heard him quiet some before seeing him crouch down in front of her.

     “H-how long were you standing there?” she asked, flustered.

     “Just enough to see you flying around everywhere,” he replied, resting his cheek against his hand and a teasing smile on his face.

     She let out an embarrassed whine. She felt mortified at how he may have seen everything she did and that was humiliating. It wasn’t that she was now regretting ever doing this or letting herself enjoy it as much as she did. Having someone see her act so…childishly was something she felt uncomfortable with.

     “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he said, dropping his hand. “It was adorable, seeing how much fun you were having.”

     Answering him with another whine, he continued on with, “I think that was my first time seeing you act so…openly, I guess. You’re a lot more withdrawn normally so it was a nice surprise to watch. It’d be nice to see you like that more often.”

     She finally looked up at him, staring into his light green eyes. They were warm and full of love, her heart fluttering the longer she peered in. He placed a hang atop her head and petted it, her cheeks still warm as she pouted.

     “Come on, let’s get you up.” He stood up and held his hand out to her.

     Sighing, she let her hood down and took his hand. He helped her up easily enough and she tried to wring the water out of her cloak. It may have been stupid to hope it hadn’t gotten too wet, considering how she literally dove underwater earlier, but she would be devastated if it was ruined. It was too important to her so she needed to be more careful from now on.

     They climbed up the steps and were east of town. Her blush cooled down as her embarrassment from earlier gave way to anxiety. Today wouldn’t just be her unshackling herself from the hate people imposed on her when she was a child. She was taking a leap of faith, trusting in the hope he wouldn’t think differently of her.

     “Hey, Ferret?” They had just passed the first building when she called out to him. “Is it okay if you come with me to see Eric?”

     Confused, he asked, “Sure, but is there something you need me to do with him?”

     “No, it’s… I’m planning on telling him.”

     That was all she needed to say for him to understand. She was going to tell Eric everything that happened in Thal Esari, both in the past and present. Even her crime, something she wasn’t looking forward to. The prospect had been brought up before when they were there but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever do it. Her fear of him becoming scared of her was still a real possibility in her mind.

     As she said back then, Eric was the first person to befriend her, show kindness to her. He was the reason she lived in Aurora Zenith now, the reason she and Ferreth met, the reason she was finally coming around to accepting herself. She didn’t want to imagine him hating her over what she did. If their friendship shattered after everything was revealed, it’d just kill her.

     Even so, he deserved to know what happened. She struggled with keeping the bad memories from overwhelming her when he first asked her about it. Now, after all she’s been through the past several months, she felt brave enough to tell him.

     She was asking Ferreth to come with her so he’d give her courage. That was why he came with her to Thal Esari and he’d serve the same purpose here. If it somehow went badly, she’d also need him there for comfort. She hoped it wouldn’t end like that and it would go smoothly.

     “What made you decide on telling him?” he asked.

     “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I feel like I’m ready. At least, I think I do, anyway…” she replied with a nervous laugh.

     “Hey, if you think you’re ready, then go ahead. Just know that I’ll be there for you, okay? I doubt Eric’s gonna suddenly hate you or be scared of you so…”

     His words were all that she could rely on for this. Even if he turned out to be right and Eric didn’t think any differently of her, it didn’t stop the thought of it actually happening from plaguing her mind. All she could do was hope and pray that things would be all right in the end.

     They arrived at the plaza, busy as it would be after the start of a new season. It was strange how, even with Aurora Zenith being more condensed yet bigger than Thal Esari, she liked the ambiance. Maybe it was because she had felt welcomed and not terrified for her life like she thought she’d be. It was nice to have people actually accepting her instead of shunning her for being a Vlixeox. She missed this while they were gone and she was going to enjoy it.

     The plaza was generally regarded as the marketplace, as evident by the many shops and stalls open for business. It was also the place for people to gather around and socialize, something she still wasn’t used to yet. The smell of freshly cooked food made her mouth water as she overheard the chatter and laughter all around her. A small smile rose to her face; she considered this place to be her home and she wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.

     “By the way, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.” He leaned his head over to listen. “I decided to forgive Lady Filaurel for what she did.”

     As if he swallowed something and it went down badly, he coughed a few times before exclaiming, “What?! I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

     “Okay, hear me out.” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’d say next. “All my life, I’ve been told that I was a monster. I was a monster because I was a Vlixeox, which meant I didn’t have the right to exist. I believed them, especially after what I did. I still believe them now but I want to prove to both everyone and myself that I’m not. To me, I think forgiving Lady Filaurel would be the first step to doing that because monsters wouldn’t know what forgiveness was. That’s just what I think, though.”

     It may have been strange to those who didn’t understand it but that’s what she believed. The “monster” she faced in the swamp, seven of the people she killed, forgave her when she felt she didn’t deserve such a thing. She was the reason they weren’t alive anymore and they still showed her forgiveness. If they could do that to their killer, then she could forgive Filaurel for all she did to her. It was a choice she knew not many would agree with but it was still her decision to make.

     “Am I wrong for doing that?” she asked. His feelings toward her had been made very clear so she had an idea of how he’d take this.

     Running a hand through his hair, he replied, “You already know how I feel about her. I absolutely despise that bitch for all she’s done to you and, if it were me, I never would’ve forgiven her.

     “But--” he placed both hands on her shoulders-- “you’re not me. I may disagree with your choice but it’s not my place to tell you what to do. If you wanna forgive her, then I’ll support you, no matter what. Who am I to judge on how you want to heal?”

     “Thank you, Ferret. I appreciate it,” she said, smiling softly. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that people like me should forgive those that have hurt them. It’s just how I see things.”

     “I figured that’s what you meant.”

     They walked up the stone stairs that led to Eric’s house. It sat nestled in a gathering of elm trees just growing their leaves back and on the cliff she had flown under earlier. The front was painted a faded silvery white and had a porch of the same color that spanned to both ends of the house. The front door was in the middle, two small windows on its left and a large on its right, the nailed-in shutters black. The porch steps creaked under their feet as they stopped at the door. It was a beautiful mahogany door with a simple bronze knocker sitting atop it. Above the knocker was the emblem for Aurora Zenith inscribed in gold.

     She tapped the door with the knocker’s handle a couple times. As she waited for someone to answer, she looked up at the emblem. It depicted honeysuckle vines crawling up towards the sun, its ray of light shining down on the town below. This was meant to represent her home, the place she swore to protect. She hoped it’d still be her home after all was said and done.

     The door swung open to reveal Delrelle. They were Eric’s housekeeper and, though she’s only met them once or twice, they seemed nice, if a bit stoic. Their face held no emotion as they greeted them with a bow.

     “Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth, what business have you here today?” they asked, standing upright.

     “We’re here to see Eric, we have something we wish to speak with him about,” she replied. “Could we see him if he isn’t too busy?”

     “Let me check in with him.” They closed the door and, after a moment passed, they opened the door and stepped aside. “I’ll see you to his office.”

     The two of them were then led to where Eric’s office was. They passed by a white staircase leading up to the second floor on their right and the archway that served as the threshold to the living room on their left. A white trim divided the light blue walls in the middle and a long white rug covered the hardwood floor, stretching from the foyer all the way down to the double doors in the back. Paintings of Brinegarde, Thornewind, Mapleshear, and Ravenstrand decorated the walls, what were once Eric’s sketches given life. Small side tables had trinkets such as a seashell, a windmill sculpture, a maple leaf preserved in resin, and a small bowl full of gemstones from the towns he visited over the past ten months. It felt homey.

     When Delrelle knocked on the door, a second wave of anxiety swept over her. It was only a matter of time now until he learned the truth. A pit began to form in her stomach, growing wider and winder as she let out a shaky breath. Her heart pounded against her chest and she was finding it hard to breathe---

     Ferreth’s hand took hold of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. No words had to be said for her to remember. He was going to be in there with her, be the beacon of courage she so desperately needed right now. She took a deep breath and squeezed back, letting him know she was okay.

     After hearing a muffled “Come in”, the three of them walked inside. Eric sat at a maple desk with stacks upon stacks of paper piled all over, half read books sitting on top of some. Bookshelves filled with history, law, art, and story books lined the walls. They stood on a grand, ornate rug that blanketed the floor, the only thing in the room that carried some sense of sophistication. The whole room fit someone who valued simplicity over complexity but still had something to show for his position.

     Bowing, Delrelle said, “Master, Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth have some matters they wish to speak with you about. I’ll leave them in your care.”

     “Thank you.” Eric stood up from his chair to stretch as they went back out to the hallway, closing the door behind them. “Ven, Ferreth, what brings you two here?”

     “Were you in the middle of something?” Ferreth asked.

     “Nah, I was just taking a break before--” he raised his arms above his head, a soft pop echoing in the room-- “getting back to work. You had something to talk about?”

     “It’s more like I had something to tell you,” she spoke up. “Something important.”

     “Well, what is it?”

     She swallowed nervously, the moment of truth finally here. The moment in which everything could change between them. Ferreth put a hand on her back to push her forward, his way of telling her to go through with it. Refusing to let her resolve be shaken, she looked Eric dead in the eye.

     “Do you remember when you asked me how the people of my old village treated me back on the boat ride here?” she asked, trying to not let her anxiety show.

     “...Yeah,” he replied, regret flickering across his face for a split second. “Am I finally gonna hear about that?”

     “I’m finally ready to tell you everything. I’m honestly scared but you deserve to know every last thing that happened.”

     “Ven, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Don’t feel like you need to tell me unless you want to.”

     “You’re the last person I ever wanted to tell this to because you mean so much to me. It’s because of that that I’m telling you.”

     Then she told him everything she could remember. From how she’d commit petty thievery to survive to the horrific torture she endured. He was never good at hiding how he felt and the anger on his face was plain to see. She really should’ve known what his reaction would be upon hearing her story from the start.

     She hadn’t told him the worst thing yet. The hope was that maybe, just maybe, he’d show mercy to her after learning of what happened that fateful day. He wouldn’t fear or hate her if he knew the reason behind it all. It’d still probably scare him to know she had killed fifteen people but he’d understand why. His kindness knew no bounds, even if it was shown to someone who didn’t deserve it.

     “God, it sounds horrible, what happened to you,” he said, rubbing his hands over and over.

     “There’s still more to tell you and it’s worse than everything else,” she added, the hairs on her body standing on end.

     “What could be worse than what I’ve just heard?”

     “Something not good. Something really bad.”

     She looked to Ferreth, silently pleading for him to give her the strength she needed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. She laid her hand over his, mustering up the courage to tell him.

     “When I was eight years old, I was banished from Thal Esari.” A chill overcame her as she struggled to breathe. “The reason for that is…that I---”

     There was a knock at the door. Delrelle cracked it open and said there was someone who wished to speak with Eric immediately. A pit of dread began to build up in her stomach as she anxiously wondered who was here. Her heart sank and her eyes widened in shock at the person coming in.

     Filaurel walked up towards them, looking her absolute best. Her gray hair was down from its usual bun, styled to where it rested atop her chest. She wore a stunning floor length pearl white dress with a white and gold cape flowing down to her waist. She had her cane with her like always, though she seemed to be using it for its intended purpose rather than as decoration. Her chin was held up high as she sneered at her, standing before Eric.

     Ferreth attempted to shield her from her but it was no use. He was probably wondering why she was here, much like she. Did she just arrive in Aurora Zenith? What reason was she here for? Did their actions on the day of her ruling play a part into why she was here? The biggest worry she had was what she could possibly do.

     “I don’t believe we’ve met, my name’s Eric Travere, lord of Aurora Zenith.” He came around the desk and held out his hand. “Might I ask for yours?”

     “Ah, yes, I’m Filaurel Crawraek and I’m what you’d call the ‘lord’ of Thal Esari,” she replied, gingerly shaking his hand. “Though I prefer being referred to as ‘Lady’.”

     “So, what brings you all the way here to our little town?” he asked, leaning back on the desk with legs crossed.

     “Well, I unfortunately come bearing bad news about your subordinates, especially concerning Venlithea.” She shot a cold glance towards her. “Has she told you of what she’s done in Thal Esari, both the past and present?”

     It was as if a great weight crashed down upon her. She knew what she was going to tell him. She was going to reveal her crime to him and how she had selfishly asked for forgiveness, all because she questioned her authority. If he heard of it from her, that would be it. Their friendship would be over, he’d drive her out of town, and she’ll be all alone again.

     “I mean, I know some of why she was there a couple weeks ago but I don’t know much of what she’s done in her childhood other than what she’s told me,” he replied, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

     “Then it’s of great importance I tell you this. You see, when she was a child, she---”

     “Don’t tell him!” She grabbed onto her arm in desperation. “Please, I beg you, don’t tell him!”

     “Unhand me at once, Venlithea!” She tried to get out of her grip but she held strong. “He has a right to know of what you did.”

     “Please don’t tell him! I’ll---I’ll do anything you want, just don’t tell him!”

     “When Venlithea was a child, she---”

     “My Lady, please…!” Tears stung her eyes as she fell to her knees, still holding onto her.

     “---took the lives of fifteen people. Cut them down mercilessly.”

     Her heart stopped as she let go of her arm. She would’ve collapsed entirely on the floor if it weren’t for Ferreth gently lifting her by her arms to stand her up. His hands remained on her shoulders to steady her. It felt as if the floor had gone out from under her, the world a blur.

     That was it, her secret was out. Eric now knew of the horrible deed she did. He had to be scared of her now, terrified of her hurting him. Maybe he even hated her and wanted her out of his sight. He was probably beginning to regret meeting her, befriending her, helping her. She was nothing more than a monster in his eyes, the very thing she wanted to prove to everyone she wasn’t. If he wanted her to leave and never come back, she’d do it. If he so desired that, she’d do it. She’d do anything he’d ask of her because she loved him. How tragic was it for a monster to love the person who wished he never saved her?

     “Really?” he asked in disbelief. “What reason would she have to do that?”

     “I honestly can’t fathom why,” she replied. “All I know is, she was sentenced to public lashing after committing yet another act of thievery and she just…snapped.”

     Not even bothering to hide the anger in his voice, Ferreth retorted, “That’s bullshit and you and I both know it.”

     “Ferreth...” Eric warned, attempting to quiet him down. “Could you tell me why Ven would do something like that? I just find it hard to believe that a child at the time could do such a thing.”

     “Venlithea was always a troublesome child. She’d keep getting into skirmishes with the other children, pickpocketed others for their money, the list goes on. She got into trouble so often, I had to resort to the extremes to try and correct her behavior. I thought the multiple lashings would be enough for her to desist but…I was wrong. It is because of my pride that I paid the ultimate price.” She sniffled as if holding back tears. “She’s lucky I only banished her when I could’ve had her executed.”

     All she said were lies. She never got into any fights nor did she steal money from people. She stayed as far away as she could from others and she only stole food from the marketplace; everything else she scavenged for. How could she stand there and lie through her teeth like it was nothing?

     “Funny you say that, because Ven gave me a different version of events. She said people often spoke down to her and she would be threatened with a lashing if she didn’t exactly do what they said. There were days she’d starve or had things she found taken away from her for no reason. If she asked why, it was because she had broken a rule that had been set but she hadn’t heard of the rule until that moment. So, tell me--” Eric placed his hands on the edge of the desk and tilted his head-- “which of you are lying?”

     Letting out a chuckle, Filaurel replied, “Well, you know how Vlixeoxs are. They’re well-renown liars. They’d say anything to make themselves seem innocent and Venlithea’s no exception. After all, she hadn’t told you of her crime and you saw for yourself how much she didn’t want you to know. How do you know she’s not using your kindness against you to suit her agenda?”

     “Oh, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Ferreth’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “She was gonna tell him about that until you came in and she was begging you not to tell him because she knew you’d twist the truth of what happened to make her out to be the bad guy. You’re the liar here, you old crone.”

     Why did it matter as to who was lying? What’s done was done and she had been outed as a killer. It can never be taken back. What point was there in defending her when it didn’t erase what she did?

     “Another thing, your subordinate here--” she gestured to Ferreth-- “has quite the mouth on him. Let’s just say that, during our last meeting, he took it upon himself to call me very vulgar things, words I’d rather not repeat. I figured to let you know so you could decide on the best course of action to take.”

     “Ohh…” Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ferreth, is she telling the truth?”

     Letting out a breath, Ferreth replied, “Yes. I admit, I lost my temper and said some pretty…not so good things but I’m not apologizing or taking them back. I couldn’t just stand idly by while she tore into Ven with her remarks. I accept whatever punishment you give to me, my lord.”

     “I see…” He took a moment to think on what he wanted to say next. “Well, as much as it may upset you, Lady Filaurel, there’s not much I can do. He was out of my jurisdiction at the time and, since he hadn’t broken the law over there and was considered a mere visitor, I’m not responsible for his actions outside of Aurora Zenith.”

     “You mean to let him walk scot-free?” she asked, a tinge of anger dripping into her voice.

     “The best I can do is a stern lecture but I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to hear that.”

     Huffing, she asked, “And what of her? What do you mean to do with Venlithea?”

     “From what I’ve gathered, she hasn’t done anything to warrant disciplinary action. Whatever she did back then doesn’t matter now and even if it did, she was already tried in your court of law.”

     “She’s a Vlixeox, my good sir. It’s far too dangerous for you to let something like her wander around unsupervised. I’d suggest putting in some preventative measures to ensure that a massacre on the scale of Thal Esari’s doesn’t happen again.”

     “Ven’s lived here for about a year now and no one’s had a problem with her, as far as I’m aware. I think we’ll be perfectly fine.”

     “You’re underestimating her. Sooner or later, she’ll take matters into her own hands and you’ll be left with several people dead when their deaths could’ve been prevented. All I’m asking is that you don’t let a repeat of what happened in Thal Esari happen here.”

     “Okay--” He pushed himself off the desk and stood up to his full height-- “forgive me if I’m out of line but you keep going on and on about this tragedy that occurred yet you’ve provided next to no explanations as to what her motive could’ve been. Have you ever thought that you might share part of the blame? Have you ever tried to take responsibility for her actions, since you were her guardian, I’d assume?”

     “Y-you insolent…” She recognized the tone of her voice. It was the tone she’d use if anyone seriously crossed her. “How am I the one to blame for what Venlithea did? I’m not the one who tore their bodies asunder while others ran and pled for mercy! Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise a child such as she and it turn out to be a complete failure? I’m still paying for the mistakes she made! You clearly do not deserve the title bestowed upon you if you won’t heed my advice.

     “Only a fool would trust someone who committed mass murder in the past. I’d only ask you don’t come crying to me when she inevitably kills again because you refused to see how dangerous the beast really was. You’ll be just as much a monster as she is for letting her do such a heinous thing.”

     Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Her mind kept replaying what Filaurel said with so much clarity. Eric, her light, her savior, would be considered a monster for what she did if the time where she’d kill again ever came? That wasn’t right; someone as kind and sincere as him could never be a monster.

     A deep seething anger began to stir inside her. It was one thing to call her a monster when she already knew she was. She gritted her teeth and clenched her shaking hands into fists. It was a whole other thing to call Eric, someone that reached a gentle hand out to her, someone she loved with every fiber of her being, a monster. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop herself.

     “What did you say, Venlithea?” she asked indignantly.

     Whirling around to face her, she heatedly replied, “I said shut up!”

     She took a step back from her sudden outburst. “W-where do you get off on speaking to me like that? Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to, Venlithea?”

     “I think the better question is, where do you get off on speaking to him like that? He’s a monster for whatever I do? How dare you… He saved me from the darkness you put me in, he gave me a reason to live from the hell you put me in, he gave me a home I’m happy in, and you call him a monster for helping me? You should be ashamed…you no-good, lying bitch!”

     A resounding crack rang clear in the room. Her cheek burned from Filaurel slapping her as she stood there in shock, realizing what just happened. She only had one question on her mind: was that it?

     A sense of extreme hostility overcame the room. She could hear a hiss followed by vicious growling beside her. Eric was warning Ferreth not to do anything stupid, which she figured to be bloody murder. Her eyes wandered over to Filaurel, hand still raised in the air after striking her. She touched her cheek and let out a short breathless laugh in utter amazement.

     “Huh…that’s the best you can do?” she asked, a brazen smile on her face. “That’s what I was afraid of all this time? I used to be so scared of you but now I see there wasn’t any reason to be…Grandmother.”

     She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “This is hardly the time for jokes.”

     “In one of the last entries Thessalia wrote before her death, she talked about how she had to swallow her pride and beg you for help because she was so lost on what to do with me. She thought you’d have a shred of love for her to know that she was scared, especially since the time I would be born was coming closer and closer. Instead, you told her she was on her own and left her all alone.

     “I read all the ways you tried to control her and when she got away from you, you disowned her. I was your second chance at getting the ‘perfect’ child you always wanted but I turned out to be a Vlixeox. You couldn’t stand knowing that your grandchild, the baby you waited so long for to mold into someone you deemed perfect, was a Vlixeox. You took all your anger and hatred out on me and I didn’t know any better.”

     “I tried my best to raise you but you refused to behave!” she exclaimed, tapping her fingers against the curve of her cane. “If I had known you’d turn out like this, I wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time trying to care for you. If you had just listened to me, I would’ve treated you better.”

     “It wouldn’t have mattered what I did!” She kicked the cane out of her grip. “For years, I believed what you and everyone else said about me. I thought I deserved all the suffering I got because I was a Vlixeox and that meant I was bad. I tried so, so hard to be good and it was never enough. You hurt me over and over and over, even as I laid on the ground bleeding, wishing that I could die so the pain would stop.

     “I was wrong to ask for forgiveness from you because I should’ve known you’d never give it to me. I didn’t have a chance in hell because your mind was set the moment I asked for it. You’re just a sad, bitter old woman that loved breaking me if it brought me a step closer to being your obedient pet.”

     She took a deep breath and glared daggers at her. “I refuse to let you control me for the rest of my life. Both of us may believe I’m a monster but I did something I know you’ll never live down. I’ve forgiven you for all you’ve done to me but you better believe I will never forget it. Now get the hell out of my home and never come back.”

     The room fell into an eerie silence. Filaurel looked at her in shock, as if she never expected her to finally stand up to her. If she was honestly speaking, it was a surprise to her, too. She probably would’ve stopped halfway through if it weren’t for her outrage at Eric being called a monster and the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

     Alek came in just as the quiet began to wear out its welcome. Eric asked for him to show Filaurel the way out, promising to explain what happened later. To everyone’s surprise, she went along with it, only stopping to pick her cane up off the floor. It was when she crossed the threshold she did it. She tossed parting words over her shoulder, seemingly directed towards her.

     “I was wrong to think you were nothing like Thessalia. You got the rebellious streak I despised her for having.”

     That wasn’t something she ever expected to hear. She never once thought she was similar to her mother in any way and reading through her journal seemed to confirm how different they were. Maybe she had more in common with her and it was just a matter of figuring out when and what.

     “Holy shit, Ven, that was amazing!” Ferreth said excitedly, picking her up by the waist to hug her. “You finally told that bitch to fuck off!”

     “Ah, yeah, I…I guess I did, huh?” she replied, her cheeks warm from the sudden hug. “Could you put me down, please?”

     “Yeah, you did.” Eric put a hand on her head and started petting her after she was back on the ground. “I’m proud of you. You finally stood up for yourself.”

     It made her happy beyond words to see pride in his eyes. There was no fear or regret in his voice, only a fond warmth she heard so rarely. Ferreth was right; he wouldn’t think differently of her and it was silly to believe otherwise.

     She was lost in thought as Ferreth dragged her out to “celebrate her victory”. She never imagined her life would be like this when she was a child. She only had a day of no punishments to look forward to back then. She didn’t think she’d have friends, a home she was happy in, people who had love to give, a life. It was because of Filaurel banishing her that everything happened the way it did and…it was the one decision she made that turned out to be good for her.

     If anything, it was thanks to Thessalia she even had a life. She may not have had much choice in the matter but she was still grateful to her for giving her life. She wondered if the voice she heard back at the graveyard was her, letting her know that she was watching over her. She liked to believe it was possible. She held the amethyst ring she kept around her neck between her fingers and smiled.

     Would she be proud of her daughter and the kind of person she was becoming? Would she not need to worry over her anymore now that she was surrounded by people that truly cared about her? She had a home she belonged in. She knew if things ever got tough, she’d be okay. She still believed herself to be a monster but…she was beginning to think she was less of one now.

[som3thingcr3ative]

Voluspa Part 4

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t posted since part three! I actually have quite a bit more written that I haven’t posted, so that will tide me over until I can write more hopefully. 

Synopsis: Astrid reaches Kattegat, but the complications from her journey catch up to her: Ivar the Boneless is King, and it is he who she must impress. 

Warnings: Slow burn, Ivar, Language, probably will be NSFW eventually, weapons, blood. You know, Vikings. For this chapter, not much warning needed.

PART 1 2 3 4 5 6

Hvardr stops a few hundred feet shy of the gate into Kattegat. I stare up at the battlements and think of the hours of labor put into everything- all for it to be burned down. It’s a waste. 

And I think. I think about how when I was born, I spoke Old Norse before I spoke English- or Danish, or Norwegian, or any of the other languages I’d learned since then. I think about the curse of sight I’ve been given, and I know it will be of use to me here. 

And then I think of the rune stone and the statue, and I know this is where I’m meant to be. 

So when a guard calls out ‘who’s there’ to me, my voice is even and strong when I reply.

“Astrid Seerschild,” I say. “Here on my own behalf to see King Ivar Ragnarsson.”

And the gates open before me.

I ride Hvardr into the marketplace just inside the entrance to Kattegat. Closing my eyes just briefly, I focus on the energies around me and get the lay of the land. A slave comes up to me, looking for reins or a bridle. 

“You won’t find any tack on him,” I say to the young boy. “And so long as you don’t try to put any on him, he will be good to you. Understand?”

He nods, waiting while I dismount. Not once do his eyes meet mine. 

He scrambles to help me unstrap the harness, but I tell him it’s okay. I gather the harness and my two pelt-wrapped bags and stride confidently toward the great hall- even if my gifts did not allow me to find its energy, I would have followed my ears. It is damn near the noisiest building I’ve ever been near, worse even than the bar back home. 

Just as I reach the doors, three large Vikings block my entrance. 

“What do we have here?” One asks, elbowing the man next to him. I set my jaw and stare defiantly up at him, knowing full well what he thinks I am. “Say, slave, did you steal those clothes?”

“I am not a slave.” I state, drawing myself up to full height. The position pulls my coat back just enough to reveal the glint of my sword at my hip. “And you would do well for yourself to move out of my way.” The third Viking moves to grab my face. I duck and counter, my forearm striking the inside of his elbow. I spin, hitting him on the temple with the pommel of one of my hidden daggers. He drops like a stone. “Now move!” I don’t wait for them to respond: I shoulder-check the two blocking my way and open the doors to the great hall.

A slave girl notices me. Her eyes dart to Einar, and she drops the pitcher of ale she was holding. As it shatters on the floor, the entire hall goes silent. She realizes what she did and panic crosses her face at the thought of her punishment. Her eyes cut to the figure lounging on the throne, but his gaze is locked on me.

I keep my eyes forward, ignoring the slave. It is the best thing I can do for her; give her time to clean up and escape unnoticed while the attention is on me. Einar senses my emotions and prowls beside me, his chest puffed out and tail straight behind him. He does not look any Viking in the eye. Einar knows that I will and have always protected him. He has nothing to fear from these people- It is they who should fear him.

The quiet lets me think. I can see the man’s stunning blue eyes tracing my every movement. I can all but feel the brilliant mind behind those eyes working out who I am and why I am here. I know he is King Ivar, if only because of his legs- legs that are wrapped together. He is taller than most Vikings, who are much taller than any man I’d seen. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, powerful and large hands. 

And I know how to play my cards.

“King Ivar Ragnarsson,” I say, choosing to ignore his legs and instead reaffirm his place as his father’s -the legend’s- son. “Conqueror of christians, slayer of Saxons and the one true ruler of the North lands, I am Astrid. I have come to Kattegat to offer my services to you in the war to come.”

I make sure I still have his attention, and then I dip into a curtsy, gracefully bowing my head. The Vikings around us watch. Their energies surround me, fearful, not trusting. No one curtsies, not here in the north. I have shown myself to be an outsider, because that is what I want them to think of me as. 

“What makes you think I need your help?” Ivar says, his voice sending chills down my spine as I straighten up. My gaze locks with his and I take in his posture. He’d moved, leaning just slightly toward me, his shoulders facing mine. Open, listening. Not nearly as defensive as he’d sounded. A truly ingenious move on his part. He wants me to feel fear, to feel desperate, to hesitate and take his bait. 

But I won’t. I know better. “My King,” I say, relaxing my posture just enough to exude calm. “I come from a family well traveled and I know much about the Saxons; their lands, their rulers, their politics and customs. I know their strategies and their plans.” A brief pause gives him time to understand what I said. He leans back just a tiny bit, and I know I’ve spoken well. “Let me show you what I know, Ivar Ragnarsson, and you will have the upper hand.”

The crowd seems to hold their breath. 

“How do I know you aren’t a Saxon spy?” He questions. I smile graciously.

“I give you my word that I was born and bred in the North. I have no sympathy for the Saxons, nor their god. I have been given a great gift by our gods. Allow me to show you.”

Ivar raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. He thinks for a second, and then he nods. 

“Your seer is here, in this room.” I close my eyes and can hear the Vikings mumble among themselves that he isn’t there; they can’t see him. But I can. “Come forward, Seer.”

My energies touch the Seer’s robes and draw him into the light. The Vikings pound their mugs against the tables, yelling that it proves nothing. I open my eyes and smile. “Your half-brother, Bjorn Ironside will burst through those doors in three- two-”

I point at the entrance, just as Bjorn pushes the doors open with such force that they slam against the wall. The Vikings inside are shocked into silence. 

“The gods speak to me and through me, Ivar Ragnarsson. They have called me here to do their bidding; to uphold the Viking way, to allow you to live and thrive in the change that is to come.” I let my voice drop to a more quiet tone. “I know things that no other knows. I have seen things that no Seer could comprehend. I know these things because I am from a long line of gifted family, trained in the arts of our craft. My body and mind are tied to the very ground this place stands on. Without my knowledge, Ivar Ragnarsson, every last Viking will be killed in no less than a century. The Saxons will infiltrate this land and your raids will fail.” My body thrums with the energy around me and I allow it to take over. My eyes go completely white. “Before the century is over, the proud Vikings will have devolved and split into factions of what used to be. With time, the gods will be forgotten. They have sent me to stop this future from happening.”

Turning, I smirk at Bjorn. “On my journey here, Bjorn and ten others burst out of the woods to attack my wolf. When confronted, Bjorn threatened me to no avail. When asked, he tried to send me the wrong way. Or am I lying, Bjorn Ironside?”

“You’re a monster.” Bjorn growls. “And a liar!”

“She speaks the truth,” the seer interjects, his voice like the hissing of a snake. 

My smirk widens. “Now what does that make you, Ironside?”

“You lied to your King, brother.” Ivar quips, seemingly uninterested- but he’s shifted to a better position for me; one that shows he is siding with me instead of the bad blood. His ice-like gaze slices through Bjorn whose eyes cut between me and the king. He’s caught in his own lie, no matter how insignificant. 

“And you haven’t?” Bjorn shouts, his face going red. Ivar leans back, his shoulders still facing me. Dismissing Bjorn’s threat while starting to trust me. 

The king smirks, raising a hand to trace his lips. “And what lie would that be?” He asks. I can see his devious plot; if Bjorn answers, he will incriminate himself. If he denies it, he makes himself a liar twice over. 

The trap slams shut when Bjorn opens his mouth. “You cannot please a woman, and yet you said you could.”

“Ivar Ragnarsson can please a woman, Bjorn.” I snarl, my eyes flashing white. As the color bleeds back into my iris I realize what I said and nearly recoil, fingers finding Einar’s scruff. 

Bjorn looks at me askance, a self-righteous smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “What proof do you have, outsider?” 

His shoulders lift, chest puffs out. He thinks he’s caught me in a lie- am I an outsider who has never been to Kattegat before or am I a liar who has lain with the king? Which is it?

“I have seen it,” I say, raising my chin just a tad. My fingers leave Einar’s fur and relax at my side. No fear. “The gods have shown me.”

“I like this one,” Ivar muses, leaning forward once again, his eyes on me. “You are welcome here, Astrid. So long as your loyalties remain true, you are my honored guest. Welcome to Kattegat.”

Tag: @tis-itheapplepie @thetwistedqueen @inforapound @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @themusingkitten @youbloodymadgenius All Ivar tag: @amy8220 @sallydelys

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of AJAX. Admin Minnie: Armand came to me out of nowhere, born out of a few concepts I thought could be interesting. But Julie, you brought him to life. I didn't think I could love him more but you added dimension and depth; you brought all his darkness to the table and paired it with all of the light he still carries. I genuinely think you may understand him better than I do, and I trust you with him completely. I can't wait for you to bless us and ruin us in the same breath. I can't wait to fall in love with him just a little bit more, with every word you write. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Alias | Julie

Age | 20 (!!!)

Preferred Pronouns | She/her/hers

Activity Level | Like a 5/10? Things have genuinely settled in life and I have a sort-of routine, since I’m working regularly, so while I’m not always here, the chances of me being active on a daily-ish basis are much higher. I’m also always lurking on Discord.

Timezone | MST

How did you find the RP? | I made a blood sacrifice asking for a good group and lo and behold, there you were. Thanks, roleplay deities!

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino, Loretta

IN CHARACTER

Character | Ajax / Armand Giordano

What drew you to this character? | “He rises from his own ashes and abandons his humanity — as Ajax, and Ajax alone.” This line right here is really what did it for me. The concept of Armand shedding an old identity, a personal one, and taking on a new one is fascinating to me. I think a lot of characters within the mob don’t necessarily identify themselves by their nicknames, personally. Santino doesn’t think of himself as Sebastian, he thinks of himself as Santino, is what I mean. Armand, on the other hand, identifies closely with the name the Montagues have given him, because in his head that’s all that he has. The lines are very much blurred between Armand and Ajax. Armand is a direct result of catastrophe, pain, betrayal on two sides of a war he hadn’t even known existed up until it was forced upon him. Ajax, on the other hand, is the outline of his own actions, even if those actions were taken out of a need for survival. I don’t think it was intentional on his part, exactly, that cleaving of the past and the present in two, but I think he relies on it now heavily enough that he might feel lost without it.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I WILL BEAT THEE INTO HANDSOMENESS. I’d like to explore just how Armand got the reputation of being the person not to fuck with in the Montagues. When you have a slate of powerhouses like Marcelo, Matthias, Grace, or even Valentina, when she’s not traipsing around on the other side, garnering that sort of reputation has to be difficult. He focuses intensely on physical prowess and I’m sure that it shows. How he uses it and the way he occupies a room is equally as important. I’m not saying it was achieved through blatant bloodshed, but delving into how it is that he’s established that sort of fear in saying the name Ajax sounds like a lot of fun. This also sort of opens the door to relationships with the Capulets. I’m sure he’s beaten the fuck out of a Capulet at some point, right? Who would that be? Was it because they were threatening Roman, or was it a hairstring reaction?

BUT BE AS AJAX. Armand takes his role of protector to Roman very seriously, as he should. I don’t think Armand’s necessarily the most book-smart but he can see the paths laid out for Roman in front of him, and Armand’s ready to clear the way if necessary. His silence around Damiano doesn’t indicate a fear of the man, only distrust, which I feel like is only growing after Damiano endangers not only himself but his own son after the death of the Witches. He’s focused so incredibly intently on Roman that most other priorities just fall away, because Armand believes Roman is the key to peace in the city. I don’t think he sees it as key to a mutual relationship between Capulets and Montagues in some sort of new age, because look at what that made out of a boy as young as sixteen. But he wants to lift Roman as high as possible to ascend upwards within the Montagues and claim his rightful seat on the throne. Armand discovering that Roman and Juliana are corresponding could either make or break that belief. I don’t think he’s emotionally capable enough to handle that sort of betrayal, because in that, he would only see his parents. I’d love to see how that route plays out in whatever direction it goes, whether he feels betrayed by Roman’s correspondence (whenever it comes to light) or more at peace with himself knowing that his parents weren’t the only ones in the city doing what they had done.

SHALL PRIDE CARRY IT? Armand protects others; it’s the key element of his personhood. That’s just what he does. It’s a natural role that comes to him with equal pride and ease, and how he feels about himself is largely reliant on how well he can keep those he cares about safe. But I’d love to see a situation where it’s less about the wellbeing of others, and more of his own, especially in the capacity of his parentage and emotions regarding that matter. Sure, Armand can hold his ground in a fight, but the use of his own parentage against him more or less broke him. And sure, he was young, but that sort of trauma changes a person vastly. He’s never looked love in the eye again, only violence and destruction of those who threaten what he cannot directly comprehend (read: love). I don’t know that it’s necessarily a secret, his birth, but I’m sure someone knows, and I feel like that could be used against him. How he reacts to that being used would be interesting to explore, and could be a potentially catalyst for greater overarching plots as well as his pride in his job and his role within the Montagues.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Sure!

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

The ride back from the whole fucking affair is silent. The little prince is practically fuming in his seat across from Armand, and Armand is touching gingerly at the tenderness at his brow. He’s shocked that the drunkard got in any sort of a hit at all, but he had to respect the force of the swing. There’d been a blistering moment of pain-pleasure-pain before he’d swung the whole weight of his body forward to crack his skull against that of his opponent. The Capulet had crumpled to the ground with a groan, and his friends were quick to collect him and go running. Armand had laughed as they’d been dragged away, crowed in victory, called out after them: it won’t happen like that next time!

And then he’d turned, eyes searching for Roman in the gathering crowd, and Roman had looked at him so strangely, like he’d done something wrong, when this was all Armand knew how to do right—

Roman alternates between looking at Armand, huffing, and looking out the window, huffing still. The fight with Damiano earlier had been bad enough. A brawl in the streets between Capulets and Montagues sat as the cherry on top of the cake. He wants to say it was you who wanted to go so badly. Even so, Armand’s not a complete idiot. He knows how that would go. Rebellious or not, he’s not sure that this is how the heir saw their evening going. He’s sure the lashing words from Damiano tomorrow will be harsh, if not outright cruel. He’s only seen the man lecture his son once or twice, but it more or less follows the same pattern: you have a legacy, you’re important to Verona, and to me, blah, blah, blah. Armand usually just tunes him out.

The divider between the passengers and the driver is up. They could get it all out now, if they wanted to. Armand’s not sure he knows where to begin. They’re both new to this whole thing, though, that’s clear enough. If he looks out the window, he can see the Castelvecchio glittering in the distance, a jewel of architecture and stone. That’s what his fathers had called it, at least. He clears his throat. “Roman, it’s-”

“Don’t.”

Armand’s mouth snaps shut. Fine, then. If Roman doesn’t want to talk, then they won’t. He’s not sure how long he can endure this bubbling of emotions in such a small space. He knows Roman is passionate — almost passionate to a fault. But that could very well kill him, if he’s not careful. He could say I worry for you, it’s my job to keep you safe. He could say a thousand things. He’s just not sure it matters. He’s never been any good at this sort of thing, doesn’t think he ever will be. He opens and closes his hands, clenches and unclenches them into fists. Anything to be anywhere else but here.

Roman won’t look at him for the rest of the drive, and Armand’s almost grateful for it. He says nothing to him once they reach the grounds of the Montague family home. It’s late in the night. Damiano is surely asleep. No one greets them at the doors, and Armand makes sure that Roman makes it into his bedroom before moving into his own small space at the end of the hall. He has his own place, although less time is spent there, and more here. His days revolve around Roman, now, and he’s almost thankful for the distraction from everything else. The world gets a little too loud, sometimes, and it only ever quiets when he’s slamming his fists against the weight of a bag, or something hurts, or running hard enough that all the thoughts drain out of his head. Or, as he’s now found, when he’s with Roman. He knows it isn’t the same for the little prince, but Armand worries that if he gets caught up in his own thoughts, he’ll lose it. Do something stupid. Go mad, maybe. Wouldn’t that be a laugh: Ajax didn’t die doing his job. He died from insanity.

He slips his running shoes on and steps into the cold night air, stares up at the window of Roman’s room. The lamp-light is on, and besides, he won’t be gone long. One foot after the other, then the next, until all he can think about is the weight of his steps against the ground, until it starts to ache. When he can’t go any longer he forces his body to pick itself up and keep moving, until he collapses on the ground, gasping for breath. (It’s been a while since he’s done that, he realizes).

The sky is full of stars. He pants, tries to connect the lines between every one, synchronize his breath with the dull thrumming coming from the side of his head. There might be a cut there. He’s not sure. He hadn’t felt any blood.

The drumming of his own blood soon calms. When he stops gasping, Armand pulls himself up and stretches. Focuses on the lamplight in the distance. Starts running again. All his thoughts empty out of his head, and for once, the world is blissfully quiet.

Extras: N/A

[stardust-and-blades]

I rewatched RWBY and decided rewriting it klance version would spread the pain bc if I had to go through it so do the rest of you Pyrrha: Keith Jaune: Lance Cinder: Lotor Ruby: Allura (bc she tote would have silver eye powers) (I switch out “maiden” for “Knight” simply bc the lore states men can’t be maidens and since Lotor is the antagonist I made an adjustment to fit the lore)

---------

He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to leave a distressed, confused Lance behind, his stance screaming to follow Keith rather than turn around to the bigger fight at hand. But what could he do besides the right thing? Besides put his all into delaying the inevitable. At least give enough time for the survivors of beacon to escape. For Lance to make it home in one piece. Even as they were running out of the building, leaving Alfor to fend off against Lotor Keith knew he was no match to whatever Lotor had become. After taking in the Fall Knight’s he became indescribably powerful. Enough so to beat the headmaster, using his stolen power to continue the Grimm attack and wreak death and violence on the rest of the world. 

He couldn’t stand on the sidelines. Not after being exposed to the existence of the knights and now Alfor’s most likely death. 

If Lotor made it to the top of the tower, that means Alfor is dead. And they in turn will be dead if someone doesn’t go up and ceases his bloodshed. 

Keith did not make his way in the top ranks of Beacon just to watch behind glass, knowing he could intervene. Knowing he could do what it takes to save the people he loves.

Even if it costs him his life.

"Alfor...” Lance whispers, watching up at what used to be the headmaster’s tower, shock and fear laced in his tone. “He...”

“He’s gone.” Keith finishes, morose. “Whatever Lotor is, whatever power he stole, it was enough to beat Alfor.”

Lance frowns. “Keith, What the hell is Lotor? What did Alfor mean by Fall Knight? There is no one on the planet with that power. And the only time we have heard of the Knights is in fairy tales--”

“That’s because it isn’t a fairy tale.” Keith says, looking at his device to summon his empty weapon carrier. “What you saw was someone who forcefully stole a power that is bigger than our aura. Something larger than the age old, lost ability of Dust.”

“Woah woah woah,” Lance waves his hands in the air. “You’re telling me HE can use DUST? Who made themself a Knight?”

Keith clenches his jaw, thinking back on the arrow lodged into the previous Fall Knight’s chest, their eyes wide and unseeing as their life force was drained to the last drop. Their body slumped, and while Keith prayed they would take a breath and hold the potential to beat Lotor, his hope dwindled as the body cooled. 

“He didn’t make himself anything. He killed for it.” And he will kill again if nothing is done.

Lance focuses his gaze up, the sound of Lotor traveling to the top reverberating off the walls, a warning of the abilities he now wields. He killed for it. Destroyed the school and a life for what does not belong to him. The Grimm invading what is left of the school’s barriers, the murder of a fellow student, the carnage he inflicted upon innocent students and faculty, a trail of blood left behind their soaked footsteps. No one capable of so much disregard to the lives at stake should not be left with the storm roiling in their tainted veins. 

“We need to get help.” Lance states, looking at Keith. “If Alfor was aware of the Knight’s existence, Coran may know someone who can rival their power.”

Keith doesn’t look at him. “There already is.”

“Great, then lets go find Coran so he can retrieve them.”

“It’s...Coran can’t do anything.”

Lance, confused by Keith’s contradicting words, turns his full attention to him. Keith is a few feet away, his eyes dull and void, a statue staring at the scenery displayed before them, frozen in time and thought. His indigo eyes, so bright and practically like starlight in a sea of black, is snuffed out by a force Lance cannot decipher. There is something Keith isn’t telling him. An emotion that goes beyond mourning Alfor and Beacon; a certain tilt of his brows that indicate Keith has a plan burrowing in the deepest part of his mind. It has only been present when Keith was talking to him a week ago, asking strange questions.

Asking Lance if he would still see him as a friend if he wasn’t the same person Lance knew; if his soul changed. It was a strange question to ask Lance. One he did not fully comprehend, for how can a soul change when the person obviously knows who they are?

He spoke as if he was going to be experimented on.

As if--

It hits Lance like a ton of bricks.

“No, no, no,” Lance shoves his body in front of Keith, getting very up close and personal with the surprised boy. “I know what you’re thinking, mullet. And you are not going to face Lotor.”

“Lance--”

“Did you not see how he came out of the fight unchanged?” Lance yells, motioning with one arm up towards the heavens. “He beat Alfor, a PROFESSIONAL HUNTER. Someone better than Allura, better than you.”

“Lance,” Keith whispers. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Obviously you don’t! You saw how powerful he is, you can’t go up there!”

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

“UM, yeah, it is as your friend who doesn’t want to add another number to the body count!” He took another step towards Keith, close enough he can smell the soot lingering on his hair from the two abandoning the fight for safety earlier. “We are leaving for actual help and that is final.”

Keith has been avoiding Lance’s look, not wishing to be pulled by those mesmerizing azures. He didn’t want to give in to his pained heart, afraid he would back out of his decision. But if he were to go through with it and Lance ended up right, he wants to have one last moment with Lance. One last look at the person he held most dear to him, even if he isn’t fully aware of just how much in those moments. Keith is about to sacrifice everything for the greater good, the least he could give himself is one last gift; one single second of pure love and unlatch those chains and shackles he had locked around his beating heart. 

His pulse quickens, but he does not back down. He can already hear the empty locker nearing their destination, the hum of gears and fire being the only sound permeating the atmosphere if one listens carefully. He doesn’t have much time, internally saying sorry to Lance.

So he lifts his head to the boy opposite of him, the one he butted heads with their first semester. The goofy yet determined boy Keith trained, remembering their long night of sparring and wrestling to aid Lance in improving his sword mastery. The beautiful man he danced with at the ball, spinning him around among lights mirroring snow’s tears and a star’s explosion, leaving Keith breathless. The person who accepted Keith for who he is, looking past his elite history and deeming him not as some untouchable God, but just a student trying to get by and make a difference. Just like him.

Slowly, Keith gives him a sad smile and, with one swift movement, takes him by his shoulders and kisses him. It is not hard nor desperate, but a soft caress of his lips, a taste of what he can offer. Of what he could have offered, if worst comes to shove. Keith closes his eyes, basking in the gentleness as Lance--surprised but not disgusted--kisses him back. It is a small push, but enough to satisfy Keith. 

They stay like that until the locker lands, that being Keith’s cue to let go and embrace his warrior status. His armored hand, lightly holding Lance to him, tightens and flings him in the locker. The boy’s eyes widen in shock, Keith forcing himself to shut and lock the metal container as soon as Lance is starstruck. 

Lance bangs on the locker, his lithe frame throwing itself against the lock. 

“What the--Keith!” He bangs again, frantically staring at Keith through the slits. “Keith don’t do this! Please don’t--”

“I’m so sorry,” Keith says, hushed and aching on the inside. His fingers are cold as they input the location for the locker to fly to, the stinging in his eyes growing almost unbearable. “Protect the others.”

He stands back, the fuel for the locker revving itself up again.

Lance continues to bang on the locker, cursing and screaming for Keith to stop.

“Keith I’m begging you, don’t do this!”

Keith just gazes up at him, the words on his lips dying as Lance registers what he is saying by a single, last look.

I love you. Goodbye.

And as Keith turns away and marches to the tower before him, the screams of Lance rings in his ears, his breaking heart stabbing Keith with its shards. 

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

“Lance, what is it? Where are you?” Allura asks, seeing her communicator go off and display Lance’s icon. Relief floods her, happy to see he is alright. Most likely Keith too, since they went off together. 

“There is a cargo ship--”

“Allura you need to stop him!” Lance yells through the communicator, Allura frowning in confusion.

“Wait, Lance what do you mean? Who are you talking about?”

“Keith! It’s Keith! He--fucking shit--he is going to the tower to face Lotor. He doesn’t stand a chance, you need to stop him!”

The cool wave of calm freezes, ice crackling its way into her body. Keith. Lotor. The tower. No, this cannot be. Keith is an exceptional fighter, but Lotor is a whole different level. He hurt her friends--most likely hurt her father--all without breaking a sweat. What the hell is he thinking.

Shiro, who is next to her during this conversation, widens his eyes. “What?”

Allura puts on her best warrior voice, ignoring the horrible dread plaguing her mind. “Lance, I hear you. But where are you? Are you alright?”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME!” Lance screams at the top of his lungs. “Go get Keith before he gets himself killed!”

Allura heard a hitch in his voice, a sob etching its way into existence before Lance lets out a frustrated scream and the connection goes dead. Allura yells Lance’s name, but already knows she has lost contact.

Now she must hurry, before it is too late.

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

Keith couldn’t move. His vision is blurry, his body aching and his aura depleted into nothing. He gasped for air, the pain in his calve excruciating. His shield missed Lotor’s arrow, its dust form activating and went right through Keith’s attempt at blocking the attack. His body couldn’t handle more damage. His aura, always thriving because he was careful in its use, can no longer help him in stopping Lotor.

He met his match, and there is nothing Keith can do about it.

Lotor, bathing in his victory, smiles to himself and forms a bow and arrow, taking aim at Keith’s heart.

“Any last words, Champion?”

Keith doesn’t know why, but the words came out without a thought. He levels his eyes with navy blue, glaring up at the threatening figure in defiance. Though he may be  dead man, he knows one thing: fate does not favor the wicked.

“Tell me. Do you believe in destiny?”

Lotor grew serious.

“Yes.”

With that, he lets go of his prepped arrow, the sharp, minuscule dagger piercing Keith’s chest. Keith’s eyes grew big, the ache bursting into white hot agony as his insides are engrossed in unseen fire. He gasps and tries to form words, tries to yell out curses—anything really—but all he can utter is a choke before he gives in to his fatal wound, his vision dissolving into darkness. He is so far gone he cannot even feel his body be dissolved into dust, Lotor’s hand a kiss of death as he slowly scatters to the wind.

His last thought is of Lance, and how he will never be able to dance with him again.

[bekaroth-reads]

Albert Vanderboom x reader 2

There you were in this part of the woods around Rusty Lake again. It had been moths now, but no one was giving up on Frank yet. He had disappeared without a trace one morning and ever since then the Vanderbooms and you had been looking everywhere. Today you were walking the woods near the shore of the lake. You all knew the he was smart enough not to be around the water by himself, but at this point you were checking everywhere no matter how unlikely. While looking around the shoreline, you saw a boat arrive at the small dock up the way. It looked to be Mr. Crow, you would often see him as he went back and forth from his job at the hotel across the way, but your weren't sure who was with him. The two men started to walk your direction as you kept looking around the area. "Hey, are you all still looking for that poor kid?" The raspy voiced of Mr. Crow caught your attention as he got closer. You just gave him a somber nod in response. You were in no way trying to be rude, but between the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and tiredness you were hard pressed to think of coherent words at the moment. You looked from him to the man that was standing behind him. "Allow me to introduce myself," the man said in a deep and smooth voice that seemed to be the opposite of Mr. Crow's. "My name is Mr. Owl.” It appeared that the two of them were actually headed in the same direction as you were for a bit, and they asked you questions as you all walked to see if they could do anything to help. Right before you went your separate ways, Mr. Owl asked you something that caught you off guard. “You haven’t, per chance, checked to see if perhaps a member of the family knows something that that they aren’t letting on.” His voice almost had an apologetic tone to it. “Well, no.” You answer almost too quickly to even give the question any thought, causing you to back track a little bit. "I mean, they're all family; they wouldn't want to do anything to purposefully hurt each other, would they?" Was your second and more thought out answer. Mr. Owl just gave a sigh that was laced with wash seemed to be a mixture of sadness and what you can only compare to remorse, yet that still didn't seem quite the right word for the feeling. "Just try to remember this: there are times when even family cannot be trusted. Be vigilant yet cautious in your search. Good evening." He said as he and Mr. Crow started to go their separate way from you. Seeing as it would be nightfall soon, you decided it was time to head back to the Vanderbooms' house and see if anyone there had found anything. Everyone had been doing their best to look for Frank in whatever way could be thought of. Emma, Mary, and Samuel were scouting around the area munch like you were, and Ida, when she was not helping in that effort, would focus on her cards, crystal ball, and any of her other methods to see if anything would come up there that would help show the poor chid's location. This was proving to be frustrating to her, because it was alway showing the house for some odd reason, and everyone knew that he was nowhere on the grounds. This assurance was given by Albert, who had been looking right around the house and its nearby area and had searched everything from top to bottom countless times by now. He also kept checking the well that was in the front yard, even though he was in the yard near to it the entire morning of Frank's disappearance and had promised that he never saw the boy in that time. Upon arriving at the house, you and the others talked of the areas you had all searched over the map the seemed almost permanently sat on the table by this point, and marked the searched locations for what seemed like the millionth time. Everyone was there except for Albert, which was not entirely odd. He was often either in the observatory keeping watch for anything through the telescope, or in his room contemplating everything that was going on. When you went to check the observatory he was not there, so you went over and knocked on his door. When there was no answer you figure the he was not there or just didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, so you just left things be and went back down stairs. Thinking of seemingly everything, yet nothing at the some time, you absentmindedly leaned onto one of the bookshelves that was in the room you were in. To your surprise, it moved very easily despite how study it looked. All other thoughts, no matter how important, were pushed to the side in lieu of this new discovery. You went to move it back to its original place, but when you saw there were scuff marks on the floor signifying that it was actually moved quite often you decided to continued to move the shelf in the opposite direction. When the shelf was slightly more to the side you saw something that you never expected to see in anything except for stories: a secret staircase. After a good debate on weather you should proceed or not, the first option was taken as you wondered if the Vanderbooms were even aware of this place's existence. You were scarcely to the third step when you were suddenly pulled pack up with startling force right before the bookshelf quickly slid closed once more and you were pinned to it from behind by someone. If the brown jacket sleeve didn't let you know who your captor was, the familiar, masked muffled voice did. "Somebody's been looking where they shouldn't have." Albert almost whispered in your ear, close enough to that you were sure that if he didn't have his mask on you would have felt his breath. "Albert? What's going on? What on earth is down there?" You almost stuttered out due to this mixture of emotions you were feeling due to the recent events and how close Albert was to you at the moment. Albert gave a little hum, before flatly responding, "Nothing that you need to know about. Not yet, at any rate." He then turned you around so that you were facing him, yet still stayed as close as he was before. He did nothing but look into your eyes as you looked at his, unsure of what was even going on right now. Eventually, he ran a hand gently down your jawline, and almost sighed, "It's getting late. I'll walk you home." You had went outside to wait while he told Mary where the two of you were going. As you waited, your eyes caught sight of the well, and something nagging at the back of your mind told you that you needed to go check it for yourself. "It's just to double check for the day." Was the reason the you try to tell yourself that you were checking, but the nagging at the back of your mind knew your actual reason. Mr. Owl's words rang thought your head, and as much as you wanted, almost needed, to believe that Albert would not do anything to hurt a soul, especially that of his nephew's, his odd behavior inside made you feel the need to check the deep, dried out, man made cavern. You walked over to it slowly with your lantern, almost dreading what might be found at the bottom. Vision cresting the stone rim of the well, you were about to use the lantern to try light the inky darkness when it was ripped from your hands. As your eyes went to follow the stolen light source, you were grabbed around the waist from behind, and went to yell, however you were stopped before you could by a hand covering your mouth. You tried to struggle, and managed to knock you and your attacker to the ground. This did not do much for you, seeing as, after a brief moment of shock, the attacker used this as an opportunity to roll the both of you over so that you were pinned by him underneath of the tree in such a way that you were sure that it would block the two of you out of view of those in the house. Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, and seeing as his hand still prevented you from making any noises of note, you started to grope madly at the ground in hopes of finding something that you might use to defend yourself. What you found was something that you assumed to be a rock at first, but realized the size and texture were not quite right. It soon hit you what you were holding: Albert's mask. Your eyes finally adjusting to the night's lighting, or rather, lack there of, showed you the one above you. Albert, unmasked and heaving out of exhaust, anger, and something else more primal that you weren't quite able to comprehend fully, used his body weight to pin you down and his hand to cover your mouth with an almost bruising grip. "Shame, shame, Nosey Rosey." He panted out, still trying to gain his breath back. "Always looking where you shouldn't be. That seems like something that should get you punished." He almost purred sadisticly, making you whimper for not knowing and being afraid of what he might mean. Albert gave a chuckle and moved the two of you so that his back was leaned up against the tree and you were sitting in his lap, his arm once again around your waist to keep you from going anywhere. "Who am I kidding? I can't stay upset with you." He chuckled once more as he started to move his hand from your mouth, but stopped and warned, "Make a sound, and there WILL be consequences." before moving it the rest of the way. "Albert I-" you started to whisper, but he shushed you with his finger. "Now, now, your not out of the woods just yet. Just because I'm spoiling you by not giving you the punishment you deserve doesn't mean that I won't be keeping a close eye on you. A very, very close eye..." He mused darkly. "Albert, please ju-" you started to talk to him before he gave a slightly perturbed growl. "How can I get you to hush?" He almost didn't finish his thought before a though came to his mind and manifested itself outwardly with a sly grin. Suddenly his lips were on yours as his hand around your waist was trying to pull you impossibly closer. Albert leaned over to your ear and whispered darkly, "You and me are inseparable now, whether you like it or not." before giving you another kiss, one which you returned this time. Even though you knew you loved this man, you couldn't shake the feeling that you practically just made a deal with the Devil himself.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I find myself once more taking up the pen to record the extraordinary deeds of Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps this story shall never be published- I hope that there will be a time when it can be- but for reasons that will become abundantly clear as this strange tale unfolds, I cannot- and will not- release this story to the public in my lifetime. And yet, I feel that the tale of Sherlock Holmes is incomplete without this tale. I write it therefore, so that my own mind might be at peace, knowing that my life’s work, as chronicler of the life of Sherlock Holmes, will not go unfinished.

It was a Friday evening when the event here recorded, which were to inevitably change my life, though, I hope, for the better, begun. I had, as was my custom on a Friday, lingered longer on the way back to my home from my practice than was usual, in part due to the chaos my house would inevitably in, and Fridays were wash days, and in part due to my desire to contemplate the week in complete peace and isolation. Though I did, it is true, love my wife, i had never felt the extraordinary attachment to her which allowed me to feel completely at peace in her presence. Perhaps that was due to my military past, or maybe my long years spent as the chronicler of the greatest man I have ever met, Sherlock Holmes. At any rate, I was drawn to solitude, and at the end of the week I would wander through London as I made my way home, occasionally passing by the markets and purchasing a trinket for my wife or for my great friend, whose acquaintance I was still blessed with – though more distantly than perhaps either of us wished. Since my marriage to Mary Morstan – a crime I am sure Holmes looked upon as severely as murder- we had drifted apart, and I regret that I was no longer invited on wild chases through London every other Tuesday. On this particular Friday, a surprisingly warm evening in October that felt like the dying breath of summer before the bitter cold and damp of autumn set in once more, I was bone-tired, utterly exhausted by a hard week that had seen some particularly difficult injuries, illnesses and people pass through my practice. I was more than ready for the brief respite of the weekend, and walked, I must admit, in a stupor. This was why I did not notice anything strange or out of place, even though, looking back, I must have seen the slumped figure by my gate as I opened it and passed through to the front door. In the moment, however, I was so lost in thought that I did not register it in the slightest, and passed by the figure without any unease. Due to my delay on the way home, it was dark when I finally reached my own front door, and I fumbled with my keys on the doorstep. In this moment, the figure from the gate placed its hand on my shoulder, with a grip like a vice, and as I turned around, promptly collapsed.

I acted with the swiftness of one who has dealt with such incidents before, catching the man – for there could be no doubt that the figure was otherwise –before he hit the ground, and crouching beside him as I half-cradled him in my arms. I was shocked to find, as I looked down, that this was no assailant nor homeless vagabond, but instead my dear friend Holmes, who looked up at me with a slightly bemused smile upon his face as he clutched his abdomen in an attempt to hold back the blood seeping from whatever wound was there. I shudder to think what might have happened to him if I had entered the house more swiftly. Would he, perhaps, have died on my doorstep, with me none the wiser until the following morning? In all likelihood, I think so. At any rate, he was in no fit state to move further, and it was a miracle he had managed the distance from gate to door. 

I could tell instantly that he was badly injured, but in my shock, made no attempt to leave him and fetch my medical kit, which I knew would be just beyond the threshold of the house, as it always was. I was afraid that if I were to desert him, even for a moment, that moment might have been his last, and that I would have, in some way, caused the death of this great man.

I was dumbstruck for a few seconds, staring at him in confusion as I attempted to comprehend how he had come to be in this position. When I finally spoke, I was confused, and even doubtful that this could really be my greatest friend, lying in such a low state.

“Holmes?” I asked. “Can it really be you?” He seemed to rouse himself at the sound of his name, the clouded look fading from his eyes, leaving them as clear and piercing as ever. 

I have often prided myself on my closeness with Holmes, and that out of all the people in the city, I would have been the one to bear witness to this great man. I had not considered, until this case, that there would be any greater achievement in my life than the fact that Sherlock Holmes called me friend. It was, therefore, greatly upsetting to me that the first conscious emotion Holmes showed towards me on that evening seemed to be bitterness. His lip twitched into a sneer, though why, I could not discern.

“Of course, Watson,” said he, though I suspected it was more in response to some internal dialogue than any speech of mine. Swiftly, however, his expression changed to one of desperation, and he reached up to grasp at my coat collar, pulling me down to his face as if to whisper something of deathly importance into my ear. At the last moment, however, he appeared to change his mind, and released me, letting me resume my previous position, looking over him. As I continued to gaze with the deepest concern at his face, half thinking he was under the influence of some drug, or even delirious with pain, he reached up once more, this time with one hand, and placed it upon my cheek.

“My dear John.” He murmured, looking completely at peace, and sighed, before his eyes rolled backwards and he fell unconscious in my arms.

So this is the start of a fic I’m thinking of writing. It’s written from ACD Watson’s perspective, when he’s married to Mary. Hope you like it! -Jay

(submitted by @shipper-of-things)

HI JAY!

Okay, I know we were talking privately about this, but I hope it’s okay that I published this, because it’s really great, and nothing generates excitement for a story like posting up a snippet of it! (just let me know if you want me to take it down!). I also hope that you don’t mind I fixed some of the grammar errors as well, LOL.

THAT ALL SAID, this is really interesting, and I would love to see you complete it!! <3