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bbybrainrot · 3 years

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Lincoln Clay SFW A-Z

- written with a chubby reader in mind, but that’s not the main focus at all.

!: possible suggestive themes. nothing too serious tho

A= activites- what do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

When Lincoln does have time to spend with you [ Aside from any missions he takes you on] he likes to take you out to do things. He will take you to areas and districts he has already claimed so that it’s safe for the two of you. And then he leaves it up to you. You want dinner? You got it. You wanna go to a show? You got it. You wanna have a night in with just you and him? You can have that too. But he wants to show you off.

B=beauty- what do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Lincoln enjoys his s/o’s shoulders/chest. He thinks that your collar bones are beautiful, and he enjoys a sweetheart neckline. When he sees you during the day, his arms always find their way around your shoulders. And at night in the bed, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and crushes you against his side. His face finds its way to your neck and chest by the end of the night

C=comfort- How would they help their s/o during hard times or when they need it most?

When you come to him with an issue, and it so happens that you ended up getting hurt or threatened. Then he handles the issue right away, he may have other things to do but you are at the top of his list. He will make sure you never have to deal with this issue again. If the issue happened to be more emotional, he may not be as much help. But he will hold you until you pull yourself together and assure you that he has your back.

D= dreams- how do they picture their future with their s/o?

All Lincoln knows is that he wants you for as long as he can keep you. He will continue to fight to keep you, but he knows some day soon his story will come to an end. The thought that his life is not guaranteed is the only reason why your future is iffy.

E= equal- are they the dominant one or are they more passive in your relationship?

As much as my switch ass hates to admit it, he ends up being the more dominant one in the relationship. He leads the way day in and out. Let you know when to go and where. Stands in front of you when you go places, and nudges you behind him a little for most conversations. Checks in on you all the damn time, and does most of the stuff for you when at home, even when you insist you can handle it.

F= Flirting- how often do they flirt or tease their s/o? How smooth are they?

He is flirting with you every chance he gets. Sly little things whisper into your ear when you try making breakfast. Lingering touches when you begin getting dressed for the day. Filthy things said over the dinner table, just to startle you a little. Smoother than he should be. Every move he makes has the ability to lead into a quickie somewhere. A dangerous man indeed.

G= Gratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o does for them?

Lincoln is very grateful for you. He knows he can be considered scary, he hears it enough from the people on the street. But his heart swells every time he returns to your shared Apartment and all of you are still there. He Doesn't know how he would patch himself up if you were there as well, you keep him clean and healthy after a long day.

H=Honesty- do they have any secret that they keep from their s/o or do they share everything

Lincoln doesn’t talk about the things he did during the war, he will talk about his time, and about the activities he did with donovan. But he leaves out the gross gorey details, he doesn't want to come off as a monster

I=Inspiration- did their s/o change something about them or is it the other way around? (it could be personal issues or just trying new day to day things)

You have reminded him that there is still a little heart within him. When he comes home, he tries to remind himself that this is you. And that you love him. And he tries to put that hardcore, Sal killing mindset away, and just tries to relax

J=jealousy- do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I don't think that he is given many chances to get jealous. I think he knows that the two of you are in a relationship, and I think that he would have trust for you. If he ever does get jealous, he will bring it up and maybe ask a question. But he really just wants peace of mind not to create problems for the two of you.

K=kiss- how do they kiss? What was the first kiss like?

Well for starters Lincoln alway kisses you when he sees you, and when he's saying goodbye. These kisses are short and chaste, just enough to give a taste of you for good measure. His other kisses are always more intense, his hand squeezing your waist or thread through the hair on the back of your neck, just to hold you in place while he kisses you. Breathes in the scent of you deeply and doesn't let you go until he’s done kissing you

L=Love confession- How did it go down?

He was hurt pretty badly after a mission. It seems like all the adrenaline shots in the world couldn't help his case. He was hurting real bad, but all he could think about was coming to you, and making you the last thing he sees, before his time is up. But your home appeared closer than he thought it would, and before collapsing on your doorstep he knocked on the door. [Ever the gentleman] And After hearing your concerned gaps and the watering of your eyes and felt safe enough to sleep. And when he woke up, the first thing he saw was your form right next to him. He had to let you know how felt, before he never got the chance again

M=Marriage- do they want to get married? How do they propose? Wedding day description?

Marriage may seem like a far off dream for Lincoln. The only thing he sees set in stone for his future is Sal Marcono’s death. I think Under different circumstances, with Sammy still alive, he would be a married man for sure.

N=nicknames- what do they call their s/o?

Puddin

Peaches

Darlin

Honey

O=Obsessed- how protective are they of their s/o? How much are they worried about them?

Lincoln is as protective as one can be. When at your home, he is alway in the same room as you. He may be doing something like reading a file, or fixing his guns but his glance always finds its way back to you. When he is out with you he is your shadow, right behind you or almost flanking you. He worries about you sometimes, when he has to leave the area of your home, he finds himself calling you, or asking Donovan to check up on you.

P=PDA- are they obvious about the relationship? Do they talk a lot about his s/o? Are they okay with affection in front of others?

Lincoln does not just go running around yelling about you. That being said his immediate crew does know about you, sometimes with you coming with him on missions you run into them. Cassandra and Vito are favorable to you, And Burke is.. well.. Burke. PDA in front of the other is rare as when you two are out together there is rarely time for that.

Q= Quirk- some random ability they have in a relationship

Lincoln is just a little touch starved, the human contact he receives is associated with pain and lies. So i think he won't ever need any space, sit next him, on his lap, look over his shoulder when he reads. Just touch him he loves it

R=Romance- how romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o smile? Are their ideas rather original or creative?

Lincoln takes any chance he has to be romantic.When he isn’t trying to get things done, he likes to spend his time with you. Dates outside of your home are not a common occurrence, he just doesn’t feel like he can really keep you safe. His romance has more of a catering feel. He shadows you a lot so you find yourself not needing to grab things or reach on your own, he’s already one step ahead of you. He likes to make you laugh by being his cute butterbean self.

S=support- do they push their s/o to do better? Do they believe in them?

lincoln isn't the type of person to get to involved in his S/o’s personal life, i mean we all know he is a busy man. If he does push his S/o to do better it's because he knows it's something his S/o is passionate about. He wants the best for you and believes in you as well, he just isn't overbearing about it and may need to be reminded to express that verbally sometimes.

T=thrill- are they okay with a certain routine or do they need some spice every once in a while?

Lincoln needs routine in his life. He has spent most of it away at war where nothing is ever the same. And when he attempted to rebuild his life the first time, everything went sideways. Knowing exactly what going to happen when he comes to see you is something that make him feel stable, and it is something that he craves

Understanding- how well do they know you? Are they sensitive to your emotions?

If Lincoln has committed to being your S/o then he knows you like the back of his hand. He knows when you have good days and bad ones and is always ready to step in and lend a hand

V=Value- how important is your relationship compared to other things in their life?

This question is a little tricky for Lincoln because he has a job to do . He loves you but he also knows that this is a thing he needs to get done. And in order to do that sometimes his job may have to come before you. In the names of people on his list, you are at the top. If you are not his first thought then you are the second.

W=Wild card-Random Fluff bomb!!

Lincoln finds great pleasure in being helpful towards you any time he can get involved in something you’re doing, he wants to be the one who helped you finish.

X=XOXO- how affectionate are they? Are they a cuddle bug or do they like their space?

Because he can always see you, he tends to be very affectionate with you. In his day to day life he doesn't get much healthy skin to skin contact, so any chance he has to get some love from you he takes it. He is a cuddle bug, when you take a seat on the couch he sits next to you but much closer than he should be. When out in public his arm finds its way around your waist and shoulders on its own.

Yearning- what happenes when they miss you

When he misses you he finds anyway he can to reach out to you and tell you that he loves you. He most likely has a memento that you've given him in the past that he keeps on him for moments like this. Other than that he gets really solemn, he punches a little harder so he can have a reason for you to clean him up.

Zzz- how do you both fall asleep/nap

When sleeping you both are engulfed in each other. His arms wrapped around you pressing you to him as tight a possible. One leg thrown over his side and your arms around his neck keeping him close to your chest. ITs hot and sticky and gross but you can hear his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing and decide that it's worth it.

#lincoln clay #mafia 3 #lincoln clay x reader #claireblep #sfw alphabet

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alj4890 · 3 years

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All Through the Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU

A/N Picking up right where we left off in the prologue and delving deep into the Beaumont's part of this storyline. We will also begin to see what some of our other TRR characters are and how they affect this divided kingdom of Cordonia. This is a VERY long chapter since I went into both Beaumont's histories, but I couldn’t find a good place to end their beginning to this storyline, LOL. Hope it doesn’t ruin this for anyone.

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms @tessa-liam @busywoman

Masterlist

Part 1

Outside the Cordonian Palace...

"Home?" Drake asked as he fell into step beside Liam.

"So soon?" The prince smiled at him. "The night is still young. We could check out a club or two."

"Uh huh." Drake shook his head. "Nice try, but I know you, Liam. Where are we really headed?"

Liam's smile dimmed. "I thought about checking on Leo."

"Leo? Why?"

"I'm worried about him. That last argument he had with Father...he hasn't been in contact at all with anyone at home." Liam softly sighed. "He hasn't answered any of my calls or messages."

"Then why visit?" Drake's tone was filled with bitterness. "Some siblings leave without a second glance and don't care how much it hurts you in the process."

Liam winced at the reminder he had caused his closest friend. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to bring up memories of Sav--"

"She's dead now." Drake bit out.

Liam closed his mouth. He knew that wasn't true, but it was the only way Drake could deal with what Savannah had done. Ever since the Beaumont’s appeared that fateful night, the Walker's had been permanently damaged.

He didn't know if there was even a chance for a reconciliation between the two.

Clearing his throat, Liam returned to the subject of Leo. "I can't come down here without checking on him."

"Is he even here anymore?" Drake asked. "I thought he had left Cordonia all together after your father refused his latest petition."

"He did. But through new sources, I have discovered that he not only returned, but has been back for quite some time."

They walked on in silence until they stopped in front of a small townhome.

They stared at the façade where not a single light was on.

Liam checked the time. "Perhaps it is too late to call upon him now that he is part of the human world."

"We can always come back after sunset." Drake offered.

"You don't have to accompany me." Liam placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "I think I can manage to get around down here on my own."

"And leave you alone with not only a Nevarkis but also a Beaumont protecting the streets from your kind." Drake's eyes narrowed. "Fat chance."

Liam shook his head. "Olivia is not going to harm me. And--"

"You can't trust her. I know you think you're little bond you made with her as a kid will keep you safe, but she'll end up just like her family and betray you the first moment she can."

"She's one of my closest friends." Liam argued. "She would never--"

"And as for Beaumont, do you honestly believe he will not seek revenge for what happened to his brother?" Drake snapped. "I'm surprised he has waited this long to make a move."

Liam knew there was little use arguing when Drake fell into this state of mind. With a sigh, he turned away from his brother's current dwelling and began to make the long trek back to the Blackspire Mountains.

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

Earlier that night, Ramsford...

So many memories...

Maxwell stood in front of the wall of weapons his ancestors had collected over the years.

His hand raised, trailing over the gold kraken near the hilt of his namesake's sword, the very one that felt like an extension of his own arm.

"Here you are." Bertrand grumbled. "We need to discuss the next Beaumont Bash."

The young lord had to summon all his strength to fall into the act that was necessary.

"You came to the right man." He spun around, his movements as smooth as silk. "What would you like me to do?"

"I'm leaving music selection in your hands. Savannah," Bertrand smiled softly, "will be handling the decorations. I will of course be choosing the menu." He held up his many lists of chores. "I want my wife's first ball to be praised by all who attend."

"This will be the Beaumont Bash to beat all the previous ones." Maxwell promised.

"I knew I could count on you." Bertrand hesitated. "Perhaps, is there a young lady you would like to invite?"

Maxwell fought to keep his carefree act in place.

"You know me." He shrugged with a dimpled grin. "It's difficult to find...someone right."

Bertrand patted his shoulder. "You'll find the right person."

Once he disappeared down the stairs, Maxwell allowed his smile to disappear.

The past year and a half had been difficult. Becoming this version of a party loving noble grated on his nerves. He wished that they could go back to what they once were...monster hunters.

The Beaumont Brothers had once struck fear in the Dark Kingdom. The very notion that they had been tasked to bring a creature to justice sent many of them scurrying into the far reaches of the realm. Yet, none could escape them for long.

At least...that was how it once was.

That one fateful encounter with the King of the Dark Kingdom made their entire world turn upside down.

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

2 years ago...

"Wait." Bertrand placed his hand on Maxwell's shoulder.

He did a few hand signals.

Maxwell nodded and slipped his sword out of its sheath. He briefly closed his eyes, using his other senses to zoom in on where the danger was. The woods along the outskirts of the Dark Kingdom could be treacherous during the daylight. At night, it was nothing but a death trap to the random lost hiker.

Sensing a presence a little to his right, Maxwell took a few silent steps forward.

Bertrand followed, guarding his back with a crossbow.

"Stop!" A female's voice cried out. "Please, my lords. Help me!"

The brothers froze at the sobs that followed that plea.

"She sounds human." Bertrand whispered. "Could she be lost?"

"This far up the mountain?" Maxwell countered. "Not likely. It's probably another vile fiend hoping to trap her next meal."

"Please." The voice was faint, sounding almost defeated. "Please help me escape."

Escape. That one word meant she was an innocent human, one that would most likely perish from the monsters that resided nearby.

Bertrand stopped Maxwell and stepped in front of him.

Parting the branches of a bush, they saw a woman sitting on the ground. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her face was buried in her arms. Her body shook with muffled cries.

"Will no one help me?" She repeated over and over.

Bertrand lowered his weapon then knelt before her.

Maxwell remained tense, ready to lop off her head if she even made the slightest movement to harm his brother.

"We can help you." Bertrand reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm. "Who--"

The brothers jumped back when she lifted her face.

She was a Walker and not just any Walker: Savannah Walker, only sister to the crown prince's right hand, Sir Drake Walker.

The two were the only descendants left of a human family that once centuries ago had made a blood oath to the Rhys. Each generation served as a protector and companion of sorts to the reigning family.

Savannah wiped at her tears. She cautiously rose, then held her hands out to them. "Please. I know who you are and I mean you no harm."

Bertrand had yet to raise his crossbow. His jaw was slack as he gazed upon her.

Maxwell pointed his sword at her. "We received a message asking us to search for a missing human." His eyes narrowed. "Did you send that message?"

She nodded. "Forgive me for lying, but I knew you wouldn't come if you knew it was from me."

Maxwell cursed, his nerves notched to an eleven as his eyes scanned the forest for a possible ambush.

"Why do you need to escape?" Bertrand asked.

"Aren't you the prince's right hand girl?" Maxwell taunted. "No longer enjoying being a vampire's plaything?"

Savannah winced at his insults.

"That's enough." Bertrand snapped. "She needs our help."

Maxwell's jaw dropped. "Surely you don't believe her?"

"I do." Bertrand moved closer to her. "Tell me what is going on."

Maxwell looked up to make certain the sky wasn't falling. Had his overly cautious brother, the very one that made him train hours upon hours each and every day, just defend an enemy of Cordonia?

"Prince Liam demands nothing from me, other than the occasional donation of blood." She sniffed. "He is very kind, but I don't want to remain here." Her warm brown eyes held Bertrand's. "I want to live a normal life, have a family...one that isn't bound to live here."

Bertrand rubbed a hand down his face. She looked so desperate, so in need of reassurance that she could have that dream.

"You're bound by a blood oath." Maxwell reminded her with a shrug. "There's nothing we can do to help you."

"Please!" She jerked her hands back when his sword swatted them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Maxwell Percival Beaumont!" Bertrand moved in front of Savannah. "Lower that weapon this instant!"

"Have you lost your mind?" Maxwell motioned toward the one that dragged them out of their beds. "Has she cast some spell over you? She's a member of the inner Dark Court. She probably has some signal that will have Constantine and his spawn out here to end us."

"I don't." She cried. "I could never do that."

Bertrand wrapped an arm around her. "We can't help you escape tonight. The blood oath will kill you if you break it without magic." He gently squeezed her close. "We'll find out what must be done and then rescue you."

"We'll do what now?" Maxwell jerked his brother away from her. "We are not prepared to face off against both Constantine and Liam."

"We'll find a way around them." Bertrand hissed. "Regina will know what to do."

"You're involving the witches now?" Maxwell's eyes grew incredulous. "You know they don't take sides."

Bertrand glanced back at Savannah. "I know. But we must try."

He returned to her and softly whispered the plan.

Maxwell watched as her eyes filled with tears again. She nodded, whispered a way to contact her and then impulsively kissed his brother’s cheek.

"Thank you." She squeezed his hand. "I must return before someone notices I'm absent."

She took off, stumbling through the brush, and disappeared from sight.

"We're really doing this?" Maxwell muttered.

"We are." Bertrand vowed. "She doesn't deserve to be imprisoned here for what her ancestors did."

"Everyone is in some type of prison thanks to our ancestors." Maxwell told him as he started back down the mountain. "Some of us just endure our life sentence better than others."

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

A few weeks went by after encountering Ms. Walker. Bertrand summoned Regina and her coven to discuss how best to help Savannah.

The Guardian, as she was referred to by the younger witches, pondered this problem. Reassuring him that she would find a way, she rose to retire to a guest room.

"Just a minute, please." Maxwell held up a hand to stop her. "Your admirer must never know of this. He'll kill her as well as us if he thinks we plan on disrupting his castle."

Regina stiffened at the word, admirer.

It was no secret that Constantine had fallen in love with her. Years ago, the vampire had made her an offer of marriage. She had been tempted to accept, given that she had lost her heart to him as well. Then tragedy struck and her cousin and her husband perished in a plane crash, leaving their young daughter Madeleine, an orphan.

Regina had noticed that the little girl had inherited magical skills that could be molded into a powerful witch. Knowing that their talent would not be welcomed in the Dark Kingdom, she refused Constantine's proposal and remained in Cordonia. She had raised the young countess to be a witch that would do whatever she could to protect the innocent and needy.

Madeleine had formed friendships with two other noble ladies, completing the coven that would replace Regina on her death. Ladies Kiara and Penelope studied hard, yet were never quite as powerful as Madeleine.

And now the Beaumont’s were asking a favor.

Regina knew she owed them one. Hundreds of years earlier Percival Beaumont had saved the life of her ancestor, Kayden Vescovi. Without him, Regina and Madeleine would not be here today nor imbued with magic.

Madeleine slipped inside.

"Do you really think we can break a blood oath?" She sat down beside her relative. "Blood magic is tricky enough as it is. I can only imagine how much it will take from us to break."

Regina gently patted her hand. "We will do all we can to find a way. Our debt to the Beaumont’s must be repaid."

Madeleine nodded in agreement. "I brought some books along. I'll see if they have anything that can help us."

Regina watched her pixie like cousin slip out the door with a fond smile. It slowly firmed into a frown as she thought of what she had discovered before journeying to Ramsford.

Leo Rhys, former prince of the Dark Kingdom had begun visiting Madeleine in secret.

She knew she would have to address that once she discovered the type of relationship Madeleine had with the young man. Now though, she was needed to solve this problem for Bertrand.

It took weeks of research, then having to wait upon a waning gibbus moon before a potion could be prepared. Once Regina had placed the bottle sealed with a waxed cork in Bertrand's hand, she had explained what must be done.

"Savannah must drink this and declare herself free from the Rhys' family." She explained. "Then she must force herself to turn her back on them and walk away. It will be painful for her, but she will survive."

"Thank you." Bertrand bowed. "I knew if anyone could help us, it would be you."

She gently squeezed his hand. "If you need me, do not hesitate to call. I will be here as fast as I can."

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

That night, the brothers slipped quietly through a gate into the Dark Kingdom. Savannah had told Bertrand that it was their best place to go undetected, given that the guard typically dozed off around the midnight hour.

"How often have you two talked?" Maxwell whispered.

"Everyday." Bertrand replied.

"Everyday?!"

"Keep your voice down." Bertrand ordered.

"She called to pester you everyday over this blood oath potion?"

"Not exactly." Bertrand slinked further into the shadows when they noticed a few people lingering around a town center.

"Then what have you been talking about?" Maxwell prodded.

He wasn't prepared to hear the answer.

"Marriage." Bertrand reluctantly replied

"Marriage? To whom?" His eyes widened. "You're going to marry a Walker?!"

"Yes." Bertrand narrowed his eyes. "She is kind and--"

"She's a Walker. A. Walker." Maxwell stressed. "Enemy to any and all monster hunters."

"She's not our enemy." Bertrand snapped. "For that matter, she says that Liam isn't either. He wants peace between our kingdoms."

"Oh well, that's a relief." Maxwell mocked, wiping his brow. "The word of a vampire is the one thing you can always count on."

Bertrand grit his teeth together to keep from saying something he might regret. He needed his younger brother's support and approval with this decision. He had never had a moment in his life since Maxwell's birth where he didn't have that. He would need it even more so in taking Savannah for his bride. He also hoped that Maxwell would become a brother to her since she was about to lose the only family she had ever known.

Regina had told him to stress to Savannah that breaking this blood oath could also destroy the bond she had with her brother, Drake.

He had done so over the phone, then wished he could be there to hold her as her heart broke over this hefty price.

With a shaky voice, she had remained determined to leave and marry him.

Creeping onward towards the castle, the brothers remained each lost in thought of what the future would bring.

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

Castle Rhys, that fateful night....

"Welcome home, my dear Sherry. And Rashad, how was your trip? Successful as usual, I believe." Constantine greeted the cousins warmly.

The two bowed and curtsied before relaxing again.

"It was very successful, your majesty." Rashad sat down in a chair catty cornered to the king's. "In fact, I was able to...."

While the pair talked, Sherry hurried over to hug Liam.

"Sherry!" He swung her into a tight hug. "I didn't think you were returning to us so soon."

"I missed home." She stepped back and grinned at Drake. "How have you been, Sir Drake?"

"Stop that sir mess and come here." He couldn't maintain his frown for long around her after pulling her into a tight hug. "The Blackspire Mountains haven't been the same without you flying about."

Sherry, formally Lady Sherveen Alcantar cousin to the Duke of Domvallier, Lord Rashad Kovak, was a fire-user. She and Rashad were direct descendants of King Dominic and his secret marriage to Sei Rhuka after the death of Queen Kenna. The fire users had decided to marry to protect the true heir to the kingdom and give him a family that would always be ready to fight by his side.

Like their ancestors the two cousins could transform into dragons and were known to fly above the clouds, away from curious humans.

Given their direct descent and blood relationship to each member of the Rhys family, their closeness had been encouraged with each and every generation. Sei had been the one to decree that every dragon born was to devote their lives to keeping their vampire relatives safe.

"Where's Savannah?" Sherry asked. "It seems like forever since I last saw her."

"Sav's been down lately." Drake explained. "Maybe she has been missing you and Rashad." He began to walk away, "I'll go fetch her."

Liam motioned for Sherry to sit with him.

As she lowered herself down, her gray eyes turned silver. A delectable smell seemed to waft from nearby. It fluttered her senses.

"Excuse me a moment, Liam," she pushed her jet black hair back and searched for the source.

It wasn't food she smelled, but rather someone. Possibly the one if she was to go by how her ancestors described finding the perfect mate. Her heartbeat accelerated as the smell became stronger with each step she took.

Then she noticed the guards' bodies lining the second floor hallway.

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

Savannah said the words necessary after drinking the potion. Her insides became engulfed with flames, scalding her blood of any magic.

"AHH-" she clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle the agonizing scream while boiling tears slipped down her cheeks. A white hot mist began to float up from her skin.

"Savannah!" Bertrand tried to take her in his arms, but was burned upon touching a bare piece of her skin.

"Let's go." She managed to say through painful gasps. "We must hurry. It's almost--"

Her bedroom door flew open. A stunned Drake followed by Sherry walked into the room.

"Sav? What did you do?" Drake gripped his head. "Why don't I feel--"

Sherry stared wide eyed at Maxwell. She could feel the heat move over her body and pooling within her palms. One little flick of a finger would have fire burning within her grasp.

The one I'm meant for is a hunter?

But how could this be? They couldn't--impossible--how would they ever--

"I'm leaving, Drake." Savannah sobbed. "I can't take it anymore."

"What are you talking about?" He staggered against a wall and slowly slid down. "Why do I feel like you have died? That you've been taken from me?"

"I'm sorry." She knelt beside him. "So incredibly sorry."

He passed out from the pain pulsating in his veins.

"No!" Savannah tried to wake him up. "Drake please--"

"We have to go." Maxwell eyed the silver irises holding his own gaze. "Don't make any sudden moves."

Sherry merely nodded.

The three edged around her to the door.

"Who are you?" Sherry asked.

"No concern of yours." He bit out.

"But..."

She had to chase after him.

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

It had happened in the blink of an eye. One minute, they saw the exit and felt elation at having succeeded. Then a sinister creature flew over their heads. It landed in front of them then threw its cloak back.

Constantine had found them.

"What did you do Savannah?" He snarled. "Why is your brother unconscious? Whatever you did also hurt Liam."

"Sir, I am so sorry. But I can't--"

"You haven't begun to feel sorrow." Constantine held her gaze, then reached out to torment her mind until she was beyond help.

Bertrand knew what was happening and jumped in front of Savannah, taking the hit of Constantine's frightening power.

He fell to the floor with a scream. Curling into a ball, he cried out for his dead mother and then for Maxwell.

Constantine slumped against a wall too, his powers surprisingly weak.

"Bertrand!" Savannah gently touched him and tried to snap him out of whatever nightmare Constantine had thrust him in.

It was no use. Whatever the vampire king had done, there was no clear way to help Bertrand.

"What did you do to him?" Maxwell demanded. "Tell me now before I kill you!"

"Do?" Constantine's voice had grown weak. "I got my revenge."

"No please!" Savannah pleaded. "There's bound to be a way we can end this amicably."

Bertrand’s screams turned to whimpers.

Fighting his own panic, Maxwell picked up his brother and began to back out of the room.

"Wait!" Sherry stepped forward. "I must--"

Liam appeared, causing the hairs on Maxwell's neck to rise.

"Savannah?" He stumbled forward, catching himself against a side table. "What is going on?"

"I'm so sorry Liam." Savannah whispered. "Please tell Drake I love him, but I have to live my own life. Tell him," she glanced back at the man sobbing in Maxwell's arms, "tell him I'm to marry Bertrand Beaumont."

"No!" Sherry shook her head.

It couldn't be. She had lost her heart, her very choice to choose another mate, to Maxwell Beaumont.

"Savannah," Constantine hissed. "If you ever return to the Dark Kingdom, I will kill you for this treason."

Tears continued to slip down her cheeks, her blood had cooled, giving her a new dose of strength to turn her back upon her king and leave all she'd ever known forever.

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

Maxwell had struggled to get his brother down the mountain. Once back within Cordonia's borders, he had called Regina. No human doctor could help Bertrand. He hoped that a witch could reverse the effects of Constantine's vicious attack.

Regina worked tirelessly along with Madeleine to find a way to cure the young duke. The potions and spells they tried did little to bring him out of his fear.

Savannah never left Bertrand's side. She took care of him, fed him, tried to soothe him when he cried out. She did everything Regina suggested in between their treatments. Maxwell begrudgingly began to soften toward her when he saw that she truly loved his brother.

After a month of this, Regina finally sat Maxwell and Savannah down to offer them one final solution.

"I cannot bring him back." Her eyes were filled with sorrow. "Constantine's power is too strong. The damage is too extensive."

Savannah bit back a sob. "It's all my fault."

Maxwell silently agreed. If she had only accepted her lot in life like everyone else did.

"Bertrand made his choice." He mumbled, knowing he would want him to try and comfort her. "You were his choice."

She blinked back tears. "I won't give up on him."

Maxwell wondered. Hadn't she given up on Liam and Drake? And whoever that girl was with the silver eyes? Why would she remain with a mentally damaged man she had only seen once before and had a few conversations with?

Only monsters fell in love that quickly.

Was she--

"What I can do is give Bertrand a new mind." Regina leaned forward. "It will take years to make it permanent. You will have to slip him potions until the new memories settle."

Savannah and Maxwell sat up.

"New mind? So you can give him what he was before the attack?" Maxwell asked.

"I could, but I won't." Regina explained. "I'm afraid the knowledge of the Dark Kingdom would cause the new mind to never fully develop. His fears are forever tied to Constantine now. What he's seeing in his mind are you both, your parents, and even himself being tortured by the king and other monstrous creatures. It is a never ending slide show of agony."

Maxwell swallowed as stray tears began to fall down his cheeks. No wonder Bertrand screamed his name and their mom's. He thought he couldn't save them.

"Bertrand will never again be a hunter and he must never know that you are still one, Maxwell." She reached out and took his hand. "From the moment I begin the incantation, you all will need to live as a normal human."

"Whatever he needs, I'll do." He promised.

Savannah added her own fervent vow that she would give Bertrand that life.

Regina nodded. "Come. Madeleine and I will walk you through the potions you'll need to secretly give him. Tomorrow, we will begin the process."

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

Within a month, Bertrand was back on his feet. He was pleased that he would be marrying his fiancée soon. He was content with the sparkling wine his duchy was famous for. He even took great delight in being a part of Queen Olivia's council.

And he believed his younger brother needed something to occupy him.

Maxwell managed to pull off his late nights out as partying instead of monitoring the boundaries between the two kingdoms. Olivia would join him as much as she could to help, but he preferred being alone.

He needed to prefer being alone.

And then, after a few months of proactive policing, he saw the silver eyed girl.

She was returning from an evening out with human friends.

He stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

His eyes darted over her, trying to discern what she exactly was. He could usually pick a vampire out of a crowd easily. Witches were not known to live in the Dark Kingdom. She could possibly be a human that Constantine and Liam preferred to feed from. But that didn't seem likely.

Those humans never left the Dark Kingdom.

He knew there were other creatures rumored to live up there. Werewolves could be occasionally heard at night. There were the elves who kept the kingdom wealthy. An occasional troll would slip out to attack a human. A few families of vampires from other nations had moved a long time ago to the only kingdom where they didn't have to live in fear.

And then there were the mythical dragons.

Maxwell had never seen one, save from renderings of King Dominic and his fellow fire user Sei.

The girl stopped, keeping about six feet between them. "Good evening, Lord Maxwell."

He blinked at the friendliness he could hear. "Good evening, umm..."

"Sherveen Alcantar, or Sherry.” She blushed over her stuttering. “ I prefer Sherry."

"Sherry." He repeated. "What are you doing down here?"

"I was meeting with some friends of mine." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "My cousin is business partners with William Sloane, do you know him?"

Maxwell gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Oh. Well, he was hosting a dinner on his yacht and I, um, went." She lowered her eyes.

"And what exactly was on the menu?" Maxwell asked.

Her eyes flashed at that condescending tone of his. "The usual a multimillionaire would have. Appetizers of caviar and shrimp. A roasted beet and pear salad. Lobster. Roasted parsnips and potatoes. Complete with a dessert of chocolate soufflé sprinkled with powdered sugar and gold flakes."

Maxwell merely quirked an eyebrow.

She huffed in irritation. "Anyway, there is something I think we should discuss."

"Savannah is not coming back. She's married to my brother." He informed her.

"No, that's not what we need to talk about." Taking a deep breath, she let the words finally be said. "You are meant for me."

"I'm what?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you a vampire."

"No." She shifted, raising one of her legs to take a shoe off. "But we are meant to be together." Her silver eyes began to glow brighter. "And I believe you know it."

"I--" was that why he there wasn't a day that passed where he didn't think about her?

She removed her other shoe, sighing at the relief she felt. "I'm a fire-user."

He snorted with surprised laughter. "Right. And I'm really a--"

His eyes widened when she produced a flame in her palm. Winking at him, she produced two more and began to juggle the fireballs.

"That doesn't mean--"

He fell backwards when she turned into a black dragon with silver tipped wings. Smoke curled out of her nostrils as she leveled a humor filled eye upon him.

He stared at the creature he believed was made up.

With a puff of smoke, she transformed back into a human.

A naked human.

"Don't stare." She ordered, pulling out a spare dress that she always kept close at hand from her purse.

He couldn't help it. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Once she was properly covered, she sat down beside him.

"What do we do about our destiny?" She asked.

He didn't know. His world it seemed had truly fallen apart.

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

He tried to fight it. Maxwell didn't like the fact that he was intended for someone else without any say whatsoever. It seemed that a human couldn't fight the magic or whatever it was when a monster recognized you as their mate.

Sherry began to show up wherever he was whenever he left home. She'd spend a few minutes talking to him, then leave before he could deny they were meant to be.

It drove him crazy. There were times he wanted to accept it. Then there were times he wanted her to never return. Either way he couldn't stop thinking about her. He no longer saw any other woman as being attractive.

One day, he was walking through a park to try and clear his head. It hurt to no longer be able to discuss things like this with Bertrand. He needed his guidance in this. Of course given how he had fallen for Savannah, he probably would have encouraged Maxwell to be with a dragon.

Sherry appeared before him.

He bumped into her. His arms reached out and wrapped around her to keep her from falling down.

She took advantage of his momentum and kissed him.

He had frozen with the feel of her warm lips touching his. Against everything he had was and believed about the creatures that lived in the kingdom high in the mountains, he held her closer and took over the kiss.

Her soft hum of desire drifted up to his ears. Her fingers slipped into his hair. Their warmth was nearly burning. He jerked back at that reminder that she wasn't human.

Sherry's eyes were glowing again as she took deep breaths to calm down.

"Max, I--"

"I have to go." He sprinted away from her.

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

Months continued with seeing her like this. He actually found himself longing for her the moment they parted. He still fought against his growing attraction, but would succumb at weak moments to either holding her or kissing her.

Then he began to actually listen and talk to her.

After a year, he finally accepted that they were meant for one another. Once he did, they began to talk of a possible future together.

"Where could we live?" He asked. "I can't live in the Dark Kingdom. After my years of hunting, I'll be killed as soon as I step into the town square."

"I can live down here." Sherry rested her head against his chest.

"Can you?" He nudged her chin up to look into her eyes. "What about your duties to Liam? What about Rashad? Your bond, is it like Savannah's? I can't ask you to do what she did. She suffers daily with missing Drake."

"Mine isn't a blood oath, more of a way of life." She explained. "Liam and I are family." She gently caressed his cheek. "And he is so happy that I've found you "

"He knows?"

"Of course." Sherry laughed. "Liam, Rashad, and I have no secrets."

"And they're fine with you being with a man who hunts his kind?" Maxwell asked.

"We know you don't do it without provocation." She explained. "If you were a sadistic killer going after the innocent, then we wouldn't allow you to live."

"What about Constantine?" His eyes narrowed in concern. "Something tells me he wouldn't be so understanding."

"You're right." She lowered her eyes. "That's why I haven't told him."

"Sherry." Maxwell pulled her closer to him. "Would he hurt you if he found out? Like what he tried to do with Savannah?"

"I'm... I don't think so." She rolled away from him to look up at the night sky. "My discovering that you're my mate wasn't a choice like what Savannah did. And being with you won't hurt Liam."

"Are you certain?" He propped himself up on his elbow.

She sighed. "About us, yes. About the king, no." She finally shared what was worrying her. "Ever since the attack, King Constantine has been acting strange."

"How so?"

"He doesn't spend as much time with our people as he used to. He rarely leaves his chambers. He has begun pressuring Liam to either find a mate or arrange a marriage." Her brow furrowed. "He seems almost obsessed on making certain all possible enemies are destroyed."

"Enemies like me?” He asked. “Olivia?"

"Yes." She wrapped her arms around him. "He has plans for Olivia. He fears she will extract revenge on him by killing Liam."

"I see." Maxwell rubbed his brow, trying to see a way out of this.

He didn't know if he could protect everyone.

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

Now...

Maxwell searched his pockets for his cell. He didn't recognize the number but knew that whoever had this number was in need of his hunting services.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" A cultured voice asked.

"Yes." He hurried into his room when he heard Bertrand and Savannah talking a little ways down the hall. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He remembered her from his mother's stories. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Maxwell asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." Maxwell replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother retired," he grimaced at that, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

Maxwell rubbed a hand down his face. He knew his brother was anxious to succeed. Regina had told Maxwell recently that in order for the spell to be successful, Bertrand had to relax. Gaining not only an investor but also a permanent client would help relieve his troubled mind.

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, Lord Maxwell. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once."

He ended the call and tossed his phone down.

How had he gone from a monster hunter to a glorified baby sitter?

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

Later the next day, along Beach Cove, Cordonia...

"This place is gorgeous!" Riley dropped her luggage and darted from room to room. "I can't believe we can afford something like this for our stay!"

Hana was puzzled as she turned about. The two bedroom beach house was not what she had booked for their stay. Knowing they would be here close to a month, she had gone for a plain, simple rental without any view whatsoever.

"This can't be right." She turned toward the agent. "We were going with the home on Fourth Street."

The agent shook her head. "You were upgraded by a Lady Lorelei Lee."

"My mother did this?!" Hana couldn't believe it. "Did she say why?"

"It was meant as a surprise and a sort of welcome she told me." The agent handed her the keys and told her to call of they had any other needs. "Enjoy your stay, Lady Hana."

Riley walked back into the entry hall as the woman curtsied.

"Hold up." Her smile held a lot of humor. "Was I supposed to be doing that this whole time?"

Hana rolled her eyes with a giggle. "No. It's just the custom here when one is related to a noble."

"That is so cool!" Riley dropped into a deep curtsey that made her wobble. "My lady."

Hana laughed while dragging her luggage further into the house. "I suppose I can't banish you to the kitchens since you now recognize my rank."

"I don't know." Riley pointed out the modern appliances. "I might be happier stuck in there."

"I can't believe my mother did this."

"Maybe this is her way of showing her support or make up for not showing it these last couple of years." Riley offered.

Hana paused outside the bedrooms. "I suppose that's one possibility. I would have preferred she simply tell am that instead of doing all this."

"Look on the bright side. Our videos are now going to be even more popular with this backdrop." Riley opened up the doors. "Which room you want?"

Both were master suites with a wall of windows looking out towards Cordonia's sapphire waters. The sun was beginning to set, adding a brilliant orange to the rich blue.

"I call the pink sands one!" Hana dashed into it, quickly throwing her luggage on the bed.

"Hey!" Riley doubled over laughing when Hana's momentum caused her to get tangled up in the straps and be buried under her bags.

The two friends had begun the tradition of claiming beds and rooms from their very first trip. Whoever's luggage touched a bed first, it was then hers for the rest of the vacation.

"Looks like I get the nautical theme." Riley hefted her bags and set them inside.

Her room was tastefully done in blues and whites. A bottled ship sat upon the dresser while a nearby table had an old map of the surrounding area embossed upon it.

She explored the large closet and bathroom, thrilled with the large shower with multiple shower heads to help ease the tension of a long day of filming.

"I don't think I'll ever want to leave." Riley called out. "You think we could just make this our new permanent base of operations?"

"We could ask, but I doubt we could afford it." Hana replied. "Besides, I thought you said all paths lead to New York."

"I say a lot of things." Riley giggled as she dumped her clothes on the bed. "You should know that better than anyone." She began to randomly toss her things in dresser drawers before losing all interest in this one tedious part of traveling.

She left her remaining pile of clothes and decided to check out Hana's room.

It was the same as hers yet themed more toward the beach. Riley bit back a smile at seeing Hana carefully unpack and hang her clothes one at a time. She didn't know how she had earned her friendship when they were so completely different.

She was truly grateful to have her as her best friend. No one encouraged or believed in her like Hana.

"Aren't you going to unpack?" Hana asked.

"I will." Riley paused when the phone on the nightstand began to ring.

Hana stared at it too in surprise. No one ever called them directly at the places they rented.

"It could be the agent." Riley told her as Hana picked it up.

"Hello?" Hana's eyes widened at the voice on the other end. "Mother! I don't know what to say. This is so generous to--who? Lord Beaumont?" She sat down on the edge of her bed. "He did? That is very kind of him, but we usually try and discover hidden gems for ourselves. I--no of course not!" Her head dropped. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful--I mean--yes, but--yes mam."

Riley lifted an eyebrow when Hana placed the receiver down. "What's up?"

"Mother called upon an old friend of the family." Hana couldn't remember her ever mentioning this family before. "A Lord Maxwell Beaumont, brother to the current Duke of Ramsford, is going to be our guide around Cordonia during our visit."

"Whoa." Riley's brow furrowed. "The entire time?"

"Apparently." Hana's brow furrowed. "I don't know why she would insist on his company unless...oh no!" She dropped her head in her hands.

"What is it?" Riley sat down beside her and gently patted her back. "Hana?"

"I think she's trying to matchmake me to this Lord Beaumont!" Hana cried out. "She won't ever give me a chance to simply live my life as I see fit, will she?"

"He might actually be the kind of guy who loves showing off his country." Riley pointed out. "Even if your mother is hoping you two decide to marry, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Hana nodded, feeling her confidence return with Riley's reminder. "You're right. I'm certain I can rebuff any advances he might give."

"Don't rebuff him just yet." Riley teased. "We need to see the hotspots and he might be cute." She covered her face after Hana hit her with a pillow.

The pair fell into giggles once more as the excitement of discovering all that this country had took over once more.

They knew this would be a trip they would never forget.

Maxwell x Sherry moodboard.

#choices the royal romance #liam x riley #maxwell x oc #maxwell x sherry #trr dark au #trr vampire au #leo x made #trr drake #trr olivia #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevarkis #leo rhys #prince liam #trr madeleine #trr regina

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

Somehow, I can imagine Vinny, Al and Victor ""adopting"" Taylor so...👀

I’m just going to do this one off the top of my head and see what happens

-Taylor was accepted into RMU, but oh no! They don’t have enough money to cover the dorms. Their parents are just “It’s too bad you don’t have any friends in G4 to stay with″ and Taylor realizes...oh no...I have friends in G4.

-They didn’t want to admit how much they actually hoped Revenge House would accept them when they called. Taylor will tell anyone who asks that they called for the sole purpose of getting shot down and ruling this out.

-Vincent: “I see. Well - “ Albert: “YES” Victor: “I’ll fix up the guest bedroom” Vincent: “...I guess you’re staying with us then”

-There are a few house rules. Don’t go in the basement (there are cyborgs in there). Don’t roam the house after curfew (that’s when we let the cyborgs out). Don’t feed Winston (Taylor isn’t sure if this one is a joke or an actual warning).

-Otherwise they get a pretty nice bedroom, soft bed, quality blankets. Not soundproof and they can hear the screams and weird metallic noises from the rooms two floors down, but hey, they won’t complain.

-At first, the guys pretty much leave Taylor to their own devices. That’s the nice thing about them being a legal adult: they don’t actually have to be good or attentive parents

-Victor and Albert are the two who pay them the most attention. Victor actually carries on conversation like a normal person. Well, mostly. He still always kind of sounds like he’s gathering information to use for nefarious purposes, but Taylor’s used to that by now. Also being called “my dear Taylor” was offputting at first but now they see it’s a genuine term of affection.

-Albert is...an interesting guardian. He’s always approaching Taylor to talk about non sequiturs, usually morbid, and Taylor has gotten used to this and kind of enjoys it. “Speaking purely in hypotheticals, what do you think tastes better: the spleen or the lungs?” “Spleen. Why are you even asking me this? That one’s obvious.”

-But weirdly Albert is in exchange the one who actively cares the most for Taylor. He makes sure they’re stocked up on supplies, and by that I mean Taylor enters their designated bathroom to find no fewer than twenty toothbrushes, all different colors, bound with a ribbon and a note that says “Pick your favorite! ~AK”

-Also instead of taking them shopping for new college wardrobe, Taylor is awoken at 6 a.m. by a phone call from Albert. “I’m at Hot Topic and they have an assortment of androgynous leather accessories. What’s your size?”

-Vincent and Taylor don’t interact much, at first. But they develop a relationship based on their lack of relationship. They both enjoy the value of comfortable silence. They can be in the same room doing separate things and know they don’t have to bother with greeting one another outside of a quick nod or 0.2 seconds of eye contact.

-Right away, though, they all make it clear that Taylor gets free food. The trio does their usual routine of making extremely high-quality luxury food and just lets Taylor chill out doing nothing until the dinner bell rings. The catch is that some of these things, they weren’t sure were food before this, but hey, turns out they don’t hate sashimi.

-Classes start. Every day when Taylor gets home and brings their books and assignments of the day to the dining room to study, Albert and Victor flock around them. Albert: “How was school? Did you make any lasting memories? Do you have an ARCHNEMESIS yet?” Victor: “Does Professor Browne still have a stick up his ass, metaphorically speaking? Has anyone of your preferred gender asked you out yet?”

-Until dinner time, the dining room is Taylor’s study sanctuary.

-They know better than to bring friends home, however. Not a single college pal who’s entered Revenge House has left with at all a good feeling. Some of them have considered calling the cops because there’s no way these people aren’t going to murder Taylor in the dead of night (sillies...Taylor’s the one person they WON’T murder in the dead of night)

-And as for dates? Unfortunately, the few times Taylor has been asked out, they’ll keep it secret and arrange a meetup at a neutral location and show up at the restaurant only to, halfway through the date, realize that they can spot distinct flashes of pink, red, and black positioned around the restaurant like the Bermuda Triangle and greeeaaat, their guardians followed them to spy on the date.

-Which isn’t always bad because one time somebody actually tried to take advantage of Taylor in the alley out back of the restaurant and before any articles of clothing could be forcibly removed, the offender practically explodes from the impact of being shot by Victor, punched by Vincent, and stabbed by Albert at the same time (the bullet almost clipped Albert but it was worth it)

-Taylor’s never sure how to introduce these people. Parents? Guardians? Friends? Roommates? Usually, it ends up something like “This is my...this is...this is Vincent. He’s Vincent. That’s it.”

-They go out as a “family” unit sometimes, usually to dinner or something where they can all just have conversation. There’s usually going to be some rando who walks past the guys and goes “Your daughter is adorable!” and Albert pulls out a rather long and wicked knife while saying “Their preferred pronouns are they/them, and I HIGHLY suggest you respect that.” Victor and Vincent glare on in the background.

-Taylor is torn because they like having guardians who respect their gender identity but also some of these people are just making honest mistakes

-Victor: “I just want to warn you that when you engage with other college students, you may be pressured to try smoking, drinking, and other narcotics. In a strange environment, any of these may be laced with poison or spiked with different drugs. Here in Vincent’s mansion, our stashes are always pure, so if there’s anything you want, just ask us and we will get you a safe supply.” (Though “safe cigarettes” and “safe hard liquor” are oxymorons to a 19 y/o but Victor is trying. Taylor doesn’t even want any of those things)

-Sometimes, though........Taylor has to be the parent figure to these three

-They might end up trying to drink away their sorrows, falling asleep in a vomit-covered living room. Taylor will clean up any obvious mess and get them some pillows.

-Taylor: “So, did you ever want to...talk to me any more about the childhood stuff that was bothering you?” Albert: “...Yes”

-One night, though, they make a big breakthrough. They find evidence for the Myers revenge scheme and confront Vincent with it.

-Vincent tells them everything. Not without getting a little emotional.

-Taylor’s just like “Oh.”

-Somehow this turns into a hug.

-The guys FORBID Taylor from getting directly involved with Myers. That said...they do act a consultation role sometimes.

-Eventually they meet some of the basement cyborgs. Also they’ve gotten pretty friendly with the Dream Eaters. If all the guys are out of the house and Winston is doing his usual hermit thing, Taylor will be “babysat” by a group of awkward yet well-meaning monsters. (The Dream Eaters have been instructed to keep the cyborgs from eating Taylor, though, and they’ve had to actually step in several times. The Dream Eaters also like the taste of human flesh but Albert said this one is NOT FOOD so they respect that.)

-Those days when the guys come home dragging a corpse/an unconscious person, and Taylor catches them, and the guys stare at them like deer in headlights until they say “I never saw this. Carry on.”

-At some point, though, Taylor decides they want a little more, so they suggest “Do you guys wanna go to the mall and catch a movie?”

-Cue a mall trip that involves Vincent criticizing all the secondhand clothing, Victor flirting with the cashiers at every boutique, and nobody knows exactly what Albert is up to but there’s blood leaking from the dressing room so let’s not ask.

-They go to see a fall blockbuster that Taylor really enjoys and the three guys are having varying degrees of enjoyment toward. If it’s got deep themes, Vincent will be happy. If it’s got romance, Victor will be happy. If it’s horror, Albert will be happy. If it’s a superhero film, NOBODY BUT TAYLOR IS HAPPY (so they kind of like taking the guys to Marvel stuff to annoy them on purpose)

-They talk the guys into accompanying them on other Taylor-style adventures. Like bowling. Bowling was either the best or the worst idea they had, because it turned into a four-person DEATH MATCH. (Figuratively, this time. Maybe literally next time.)

-Vincent draws a HARD LINE IN THE SAND at pizza, though. He will not even look at a pizza, let alone eat one or enter a pizza establishment.

-After some months, Taylor and Vincent are conversing more, but it’s usually Taylor asking questions about how the legal system works because Vincent can explain it better than anyone else and in a way that doesn’t fly over Taylor’s head.

-Sometimes, though...Taylor gets sick. The first time, they didn’t actually expect any of the guys to do anything about it. But Vincent drops off hot meals without a word and leaves, and rude as he is, the food’s always DELICIOUS and particular faves of Taylor’s. Victor is the “Text me if you need anything, sweetie” guy who will drop everything if Taylor needs an ice pack or a barf bin. Albert will sit in the room at a safe distance to talk to Taylor about random things and make sure they don’t get lonely. Also, Taylor will have weirdly no nightmares whatsoever, and they know Albert has something to do with this.

-Sometimes...Taylor is sad. All three of the guys will sit around them, encouraging them to talk about everything that’s bothersome. Brief hugs will be exchanged (Victor’s are a bit too tight since, y’know, metal arms, but that’s fine by Taylor). And then if there was a particular entity that caused the sadness, well, that entity might end up dead in a pool of blood in a back alley later.

-There’s also a contract on the table stating that if Taylor is ever incarcerated, then Vincent, Victor, and Albert will break them out of jail at the earliest convenience. Taylor isn’t sure when this will ever have to be used but they’re glad it’s there.

-They make an even more amazing meal than usual for Taylor’s birthday and spend way, WAY too much on gifts. Some of which aren’t even things Taylor wanted (”It’s...a baseball bat with barbed wire around it. Uh...just what I always wanted? Thanks, Albert.”)

#vincent edgeworth #victor blake #albert krueger #taylor lee #blakeworther #ask to tag for content #somehow i REBLOGGED this instead of tagging it the first time #i blame tumblr

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 7,402

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced (temporary) character death, slight manipulation

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur tours the stronghold, meets DreamXD, and watches Tommy and Techno move a few very reluctant inches closer to reconciliation.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Fourteen: wipe the dirt off of your hands (ii)

Phil and Technoblade found the server’s stronghold. Because of course they did. Nevermind that the End is closed off here, the one rule of this server that hasn’t been broken and flaunted in front of everyone’s faces. The one rule that might actually sort of mean something. But evidently it doesn’t mean enough, because Phil and Techno not only found the stronghold, but decided to use it for a secret anarchy base.

When he voices all of this aloud, Phil just shrugs.

“Techno won me over to the whole anarchy thing, a bit,” he says, completely unrepentant. “We wanted a base, and the stronghold was literally right there. Not like anyone else was using it.”

“I really feel like that’s not the point,” Ranboo says weakly. He understands the significance, apparently. “Phil, even I know what a stronghold is.”

“Okay, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as you two are making it out to be,” Phil says, even though he is wrong, completely dead-wrong. “Just, c’mon, I’ll show you how we get there.” He starts walking, heading for the door, and he and Ranboo are given no choice but to follow. “We found an old library in it, lots of books in surprisingly good condition, considering. I haven’t even begun to go through them all. I’m thinking if it’s information on ancient, slightly eldritch beings we’re looking for, that’s our best bet in finding anything.”

“Right,” he says. “Sure. Why not?” He hopes Phil can hear the utter frustration in his voice. The smirk directed his way tells him that Phil did, indeed, hear it. Bastard.

But there’s nothing to do but go with him, at this point. It’s not like he’s going to pass up the chance to see one of these; he’s been in strongholds before, of course, but this feels like it holds more significance, somehow, on a server where the End is forbidden to all. Phil leads them through a convoluted series of passages, hitting buttons that reveal secret doors, and there’s a long hallway of ice, and then more buttons, and the air gets cooler and cooler, musty and still. Old. Tense. Like the rock itself is waiting.

And then, Phil opens up one final door, and a different hallway greets them. One crafted with intent, not carved carelessly out of stone. Bricks placed purposefully, rough though the detailing now is, and the air is stale here, and strangely damp. They’re underwater, then, and he casts Phil a glance. He seems unconcerned, and Wilbur chooses to believe that means that the roof won’t cave in under the pressure of the ocean above.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one of these,” Ranboo says. His voice is hushed, quiet, almost awestruck.

“It’s not much,” Phil says with a shrug. “Normally wouldn’t bother with it, in a server like this, but like I said, Techno and I wanted a base, and it happened to be close. Not much of use here, but there is a library. More cobwebs than books by now, but a lot of what’s left seems legible, at least. I haven’t gone through most of it. Here, this way.”

Phil keeps walking, and for a moment, Ranboo doesn’t follow. He looks a bit taken aback, perhaps by Phil’s casual attitude toward a place that in any other circumstance, to any other person, might be something approaching sacred.

Wilbur sighs.

“Phil’s just like that,” he murmurs. “Plus, he’s been on dozens of servers. Seen dozens of these. And he’s ancient, too, so there’s that.” He goes along after Phil, and Ranboo, after a second of hesitation, hurries to catch up with him.

“How ancient are we talking here?” he asks.

Wilbur feels his lips twitch upward. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked for the exact number,” he says. “Centuries, at least. Maybe a few millennia. No one really quite knows what Phil is. I’m not sure he knows himself.” He shrugs. “Growing up, he was always just our dad. That was enough.”

“Oh.” Ranboo chews on that for a moment, and then nods. “Okay then. That actually explains a couple of things.”

He hums. “How did you come to live by him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, well, it was after—you know about Doomsday, right? I mean—”

(destruction raining from the sky and the terrifying shriek of withers and his home is gone the history is gone and Friend, Friend is gone, his dearest Friend and Phil knew, he knew, he knew and he did it anyway but only a few minutes later the memory is gone because he does not want to remember this and it is a blessing, being able to forget, because what use is carrying pain that he can do nothing about, what use is holding it close and letting it make a monster of him because even dead he cannot manage to ask for help must keep up the facade but at least let it be a happy one)

(and yet looking back on it, looking back on it now, he feels barely any anger at all. like son, like father, after all)

He smiles tightly. “I know about Doomsday,” he agrees, and then tilts his head. “That’s right, you were—you were living in L’Manberg at the time, weren’t you? I—Ghostbur saw you there.”

“Yeah, I lived there,” Ranboo says. “Right up until it turned into a crater, I guess. But, um, after all of that, Phil knew that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so—I don’t know, I guess he felt bad for me or something? He invited me to stay up here with him and Techno, and I guess I never really left.”

That’s such a uniquely Phil thing to do. Destroy a country, then pick up one of the kids he rendered homeless. Wilbur can imagine exactly how that went.

“Well, I hope you know that you’re not likely to be rid of him now,” he says, and then the two of them step around the corner, and right across the way, there is an open doorway, and even from here, he can see the rows upon rows of bookshelves, some of them half-empty and all of them covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. He glances at Ranboo one last time, and then the two of them step into the room.

He is not one for claustrophobia,

(was not, though now tight spaces and dark rooms remind him of one place and one place only)

but the room feels close, crowded, the shelves towering over him, and even over Ranboo, who has more than a foot of height on him, tall and lanky and half-ender as he is. And more than that, the room feels old, feels weighty, moreso even than the rest of the stronghold, because here are books that must have been written hundreds of years ago, before the server passed into Dream’s hands, that have not been touched since, that have been left to gather dust and mold in an ancient ruin under the sea. In these books are the words of people who came years before him, their words reaching out to grasp the long arm of the future, and it is nothing that he has not seen before, but he never gets used to it. He is no scholar, really, no Technoblade, but he can appreciate this for what it is, can appreciate the history here, the circle that never ends.

(he has always fancied himself as part of a story, has always been able to look outside of himself to see what role the history books will have him play. moments like this only make him more aware of it, more aware that someday, he will be long in the ground and only his words will live on, his words and the words of others, a legacy, a garden growing and fed on the dust that was once him)

(it should already be so. stories are not supposed to be picked up after the last thread is snipped and yet here he is, and the whole narrative has been thrown into disarray)

Phil’s head peers out around one of the shelves.

“Took you long enough,” he says. “We can start anywhere, I suppose. I didn’t get around to cataloging any of this shit, so your guess is as good as mine as to where the important stuff is.”

“Great,” Ranboo says, sounding thoroughly unenthusiastic. “I love having absolutely no idea what we’re looking for.”

“We have to start somewhere,” he says, though looking at the shelves around them, he thinks that Ranboo might have a point. But nonetheless, he grabs a random book off the nearest shelf and opens it, frowning at the mold that dots the pages. But as Phil said, it’s legible, and his eyes scan over faded words, printed in an older dialect that’s just barely understandable.

They split up, each taking a different section. But it only takes a few hours for Wilbur to get frustrated. He’s more patient than this, normally, unless that’s another aspect of himself that he lost somewhere along the line. But he thinks he’s justified—perhaps under normal circumstances, they would have all the time in the world to find the information they need. In normal circumstances, a strategy like this would work. But they don’t have that kind of time. And they especially don’t have that kind of time to search for knowledge that may not even be here at all.

He snaps the book he’s leafing through shut and stands.

“I’m stretching my legs,” he calls, and doesn’t wait for an answer before striding out of the room. Too late, he remembers that they’re still underground, underwater, and the air outside of the library is barely any fresher than the air inside, which does not improve his mood. But a walk might help clear his head, so a walk is what he takes, wandering the corridors as he did in the castle earlier, that same restlessness returning.

It all comes down to a feeling of helplessness, in the end, of powerlessness. He was powerless to stop the Egg. Powerless to save Techno, and then later, powerless to help him. And he is powerless now, skimming through century-old books with barely a hope of a payoff. And yet, it’s all he can do, is the best plan they have, and how is it possible that this is the best plan they have?

He used to be good at this. He has been presenting himself as good at this, pulled on his old general’s strength to present confidence to the others, surety. And yet, here they are, and it’s too soon to give up, he knows, but it’s been a few hours and they have found nothing, and he can’t help but feel like they’re going to continue to find nothing.

You are nothing, and you may as well give it up, give in, throw away yourself for a chance of saving what little you have not already lost, something whispers, and it is not him, and there is translucent red lining the edges of his vision, for if you pass up this chance, who do you have to blame but yourself?

“Shut up,” he mutters. “Shut the fuck up. You’re thousands of chunks away, shut up.”

Distance is no matter to one such as I, and you ought to know better than to hope for it, it says. You ought to know better than to hope for a great many things. Powerless as you are, why not take into your hands the only choice you have left to you, take back your peace and save your brother, save them all from the encroaching choke, save them all and yourself most of—

He steps into another room, and the voice abruptly stops, leaving his head blessedly silent. He catches himself holding his breath, and he releases it all at once.

And then realizes what he’s seeing. It’s a meeting room, clearly, decorated far beyond what an untouched stronghold would look like, and this has Phil’s interior design choices stamped all over it, but—

They’re using the End Portal as a table.

Because that is undoubtedly the End Portal. Even if he hadn’t seen one before, once or twice, on different servers, he would be able to recognize the blocks for what they are: something other, something that belongs to a different place entirely. They fill the room with a low, buzzing hum, and underneath that, there is a melody hovering just beyond his perception, a melody that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. He hums, trying to match the notes, and finds that he can’t, that he always lands above or below no matter what pitch he vocalizes. And yet, even still, there is something about it that is eerily comforting.

Perhaps it is simply the way the Egg fell silent as soon as he stepped inside. He appreciates that.

But still. They’re using it as a table.

“Do you like the décor?” Phil asks, amusement clear in his tone. Wilbur doesn’t turn to look at him, but Phil comes up beside him soon enough, and Ranboo trails behind, staring at the portal with wide eyes.

“Is nothing sacred to you?” he asks, and the teasing note comes out naturally.

“Eh,” Phil says, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You know how it is.”

“I know what that is,” Ranboo says, sounding far, far away. “I know—I know this, I—why do I—?”

(a question: if he could sense the music, human and just barely void-touched as he is, then what must it sound like to one who has the End itself in his veins?)

Ranboo takes one step forward, and then another, until he’s standing right next to the portal-table. One hand hovers above it, and he hesitates before placing it down. Wilbur glances to Phil, wondering if this is a thing they should be stopping, but Phil is staring at Ranboo, head tilted and eyes slightly narrow.

“Have you never seen one of these before?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo says, still distant. “Maybe? I don’t think I remember. But I—I don’t know where I come from, but this feels like—”

“Well, it is an End Portal,” Phil agrees. “I wasn’t sure if it was still functional, but I guess that answers that question. You’re probably sensing something from it that we’re not picking up on, with you being half-ender and all.”

“I guess—”

“Why wouldn’t it be functional?” Wilbur interrupts. Maybe that’s not what he should’ve gotten out of that, but he’s satisfied that this is an enderman thing, not something to be concerned over. But that offhand remark, said in that infuriatingly casual way that Phil so often has, draws his attention, because he’s never heard of a non-functional End Portal before. He didn’t think that such a thing was possible; everyone knows that portals are the one sure fixture of almost every server, unable to be tampered with or destroyed by any means.

“Oh, that.” Phil laughs. “There’s an interesting story there, actually. When Techno and I first came through here, we—”

But Phil gets cut off.

Wilbur senses it before he sees that anything is changed: the pressure in the room shifts, suddenly, becoming greater, more. All the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and the next breath he takes, he gets a lungful of ozone, sharp and electric. He coughs, and finds that the noise falls strangely flat, and then there is someone hovering over the portal-table. Not standing. Hovering, a good six inches from the table’s surface.

Ranboo stumbles back, and Phil takes several strides forward, arms outstretched as if to shield them both. His cloak twitches, though his wings do not spread.

Wilbur’s not sure what he’s looking at.

They are a person, he thinks. At least, they are person-shaped, though it is somewhat difficult to tell; most of their body is covered in a long green cloak, one that drifts around them despite the stillness of the air. They have no visible feet, and their hands are hidden, if they have them. But under their hood, there is nothing but shadows, and those shadows do not seem to fall across a face. Instead, it is as though they are made of void, black and cold, and he finds himself leaning in, straining to see if there is anything past that, and the hood twitches in his direction and he gets a glimpse of

(twin halos circling circling like a tear in the world and a tear in the void a tear in the nothing and the everything and a circle half filled in and half open and you know something in you knows)

He freezes. His spine locks up. They do not have eyes but they are looking at him, and the only way to describe the feeling is prey studied by a predator. The Egg didn’t make him feel like this. Even Dream didn’t make him feel like this.

(or he did, but it was tainted by darkness, tainted by corruption, a predator studying prey if the predator was malicious rather than just an animal, acting on cruel whim rather than nature and instinct. this is something different. this is something vaster. this is the regard of a)

“The End is closed,” the newcomer says, and Wilbur stiffens further, because their voice echoes and vibrates and buzzes in his skull, but underneath that, underneath all the white noise, the voice sounds like Dream. But that cannot possibly be right. This—person, whatever they are, they are not human, but they are not the same as Dream, do not give off the same impression of oozing corruption, of a black pit at the core, sucking in all light to be snuffed out, stamped upon.

“We weren’t going to the End, mate,” Phil says, calm. “Just talking. Not against the rules to talk, is it?”

“The End is closed,” they repeat, their voice grating and twisting and pulling at the reality around them. Wilbur feels a headache begin to form behind his eyes, a dull throbbing.

“Right, one trick pony, you are,” Phil mutters, and then glances over his shoulder. “This is what I was about to tell you about. Seems there’s someone to enforce the End rule here. They almost took away the portal entirely before Techno and I swore we weren’t gonna use it. Nothing much to worry about, I don’t think. Look,” he tacks on, turning back to them, “we were really just having a chat. Don’t need someone looking over our shoulders for it.”

The hood of the cloak moves again in what might, possibly, be considered a head tilt.

“You may not open the way to the End,” they say. “Not even for his sake.” A hand snakes out of the folds of the cloak, gloved in black, and makes a quick gesture in Ranboo’s direction. Wilbur blinks, hard; the motion is difficult to track, and it’s as if they slice open the very air itself just by moving.

Phil scoffs. “Is that what this is about?” he asks. “Mate. He’s an enderman hybrid, he can’t help but be drawn to it. But he’s not stupid enough to try and go through. You’re not needed here. Promise.”

Ranboo nods in agreement, head bobbing rapidly as he makes a few noises of agreement. Wilbur might be amused by it, if it weren’t for the fact that every inch of his skin feels like a live wire, being in the same room as this thing. He’s not sure why Phil is being so nonchalant about this, as if this is normal. This isn’t normal. Or perhaps he’s the strange one, is overreacting to something that is undoubtedly odd but no reason to worry, but he doesn’t think so. He really, really doesn’t think so.

They drift a few inches back, almost absently.

“He watches from behind your eyes,” they say. “He above all others must not be allowed access. You will forgive my insistence.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Phil asks, and Wilbur wants to echo his confusion, except the Egg was in his head not even ten minutes ago, and he has a sneaking suspicion as to what they might be referring to. The Egg was in his head, but they are not looking at him, he’s sure, because when they were looking at him, he could feel it, just as he could feel Dream’s gaze sliding across him like the touch of a razor and yet not like that at all. And Ranboo has tensed, so perhaps this is directed at him, but Wilbur pushes that aside and steps forward, evading Phil’s outstretched arm, because if no one else is going to ask the questions he wants answered, then he will.

“What the fuck are you?” he says, blunt. Perhaps it’s not the wisest move, but he’s tired and irritated, and when Phil goes to grab his shoulder, he shrugs him off. “No, I’m not—stop that, I’m done with things yanking on my chain. This guy wants to appear in front of us and be all cryptic and shit, I’m not having that. Not today. We don’t have time for this. So what the fuck are you?”

For a moment, they go silent. His breathing is loud in his own ears.

(he’s not sure why he’s stuck on this, not sure why he’s stuck on them, for he has tangled with gods and monsters and this being should be no different, really, from what he has dealt with over the past few weeks, should be better, even, since it seems that they are not here to try to kill him or his family, but he looks at them and sees beyond them, sees a break in the world and crack in the code and it is like and not like anything else he has seen before and perhaps they will not find what they need to know in books)

“I am the protector,” they say at length. “A fragment and a failsafe.”

“I didn’t ask what you do,” he says, “I asked what you are.”

“Wil—”

“Stop,” he insists. He’s standing in front of both of them now, and he doesn’t look back, doesn’t take his eyes off the figure floating over the table. “We’ve got some, some otherworldly being in here with us, and you don’t think this could at all be relevant? Please tell me I’m not the only one who realizes who he sounds like.” Without waiting for an answer, he addresses the being again. “What are you? And how are you connected to Dream? You can’t tell me you’re not, I don’t believe it.”

Behind him, Ranboo makes a little sound, like he’s been punched in the gut.

They are silent once again.

And then:

“I am a shadow,” they say. “A shadow of the original. I am what he rejected in his last moment of clarity.”

“What are you—are you trying to say you know Dream? Or that you came from Dream?”

They drift closer. “I am of him but not him. My task is to prevent the worst. The final task he set me. I can do nothing else.”

“Is the ‘he’ in that sentence Dream?” Ranboo asks, a frantic whisper that is very loud. “Is the—I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. Can we go now? I think we should go now and leave the mysterious floating guy alone.”

“Could you speak in anything but riddles?” he snaps, ignoring him. “I want a straight answer. You haven’t given me one yet.”

They drift closer still, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh, static energy crackling across it. He resists the urge to step back.

(this reminds you of another time another time long ago and this surge of confidence is true truer than any you have experienced yet since they dragged you back into this world by your trailing fingertips and it is true because you remember standing on the walls and facing the ruler of the server and holding your ground for what you believe in for the people you fight for and this is different but it feels the same feels the same and you will not give in not even to a)

They are looking at him, right at him,

(twin halos circle slashing wounds into the world and this is something that was never meant to be)

and they say, “It is not of you to demand of me. I am the protector. That is my task,” but that is not what Wilbur hears, because suddenly, there is something in his head, something poking at his thoughts, but it does not reach in as the Egg did, does not pull at the threads of his mind and attempt to twist them into something new, but rather just exists on the edges, touching but not pressing, and there is a pressure and he doesn’t like it at all but it doesn’t hurt him.

And what they say is not words, but rather impressions, imparted to him all at once, impossible to pick apart, and

(the beginning and the end all wrapped up in one as the universe looks on and this server is a home he will make it a home he did but he is gone and this is what remains of the divine fabric the crown of the world and they wait and wait and the universe looks on and they are nothing but a shell all the love taken by the other and broken corrupted drowned twisted and they wait by their task they do what has been set and only once do they not only once do they act there is a man and he asks and he is cloaked by the universe and the thrall of the empty and time in its mercilessness and that which is inbetween and he asks and the universe says yes so they do not refuse and they drag you back into this world by your trailing fingertips for the better or for the worse and the man is gone and the universe cannot be contained by this but the universe says)

he doesn’t understand a bit of it, but he reels back regardless, and his head feels like fireworks have gone off within it, like a thousand thunderclaps sounding overhead. Hand land on his shoulder, on his arm, and he does not push Phil away this time, nor Ranboo when he suddenly appears on his other side. He blinks the spots from his vision, and looks up. The figure is gone.

“You alright?” Phil asks quietly.

“What the fuck?” he says instead of replying. “Phil, what—what was that?”

“I second that? I would also like to know?” Ranboo says, voice tilting upward.

“I would’ve told you not to mess with them, but I figured you should get it out of your system,” Phil says, still quiet, deadly serious. He stares at the table rather than make eye contact, and Wilbur follows his gaze. The End Portal still hums. “I’ve been around the block enough to know a god when I see one. I don’t know what the fuck this one is or what connection they have to Dream, but all they seem to want to do is make sure that no one goes to the End. Like I said, that’s what I was about to tell you before they showed up. Techno and I had to swear five times over that we wouldn’t use the portal for anything other than decoration before they’d even let us keep it. I figured it was best to leave them the fuck alone.”

“A god?” Ranboo echoes. “Like, an actual god? Divine smiting and all of that?”

Wilbur has never been much of a believer himself. Or at least, not one for worship. Gods may exist, but he’ll pay one homage when he decides it deserves his respect, and that day has never arrived.

But this one

(was in his head and he wanted it gone wanted it gone because he has had enough of things dragging their fingers across his sense of self but this one did not push and more than that it felt familiar almost like)

is important.

“There’s plenty of different kinds of gods,” Phil says, “but essentially, yes.”

“Dream’s not a god, though,” he states flatly. Phil glances at him.

“He’s never felt like one to me,” he agrees. “But I never picked up on the demon thing either, so I probably know fuck-all.”

“This feels important,” he says, and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to settle his nerves. “This feels—fuck, every time I think I’ve got all the pieces laid out, it turns out that I’ve made the framework too short, and there’s components I didn’t even know existed.” He shakes his head. The headache has mostly abated, so that’s something. “I don’t suppose they’d come back if we asked them nicely?”

“Do we want them to come back?” Ranboo asks, his voice rising in pitch even further. “Is that a thing that we want?”

He runs a hand through his hair again and doesn’t reply. Phil doesn’t either, though he’s not sure it’s for the same reason. Because frankly, yes; he wants them to come back. He asked them questions and didn’t understand a word of their answers, and he feels like he’s barely scraped the surface of what’s actually going on here. But one thing has been made clear enough: the nature of the connection between Dream and this being, this god, is uncertain, but the connection exists. And considering everything, that is something that’s relevant to them.

He’s beginning to think that they might get some information out of this after all. But he doubts that it’ll come from any book.

----------

They don’t find anything. They go at it for another few hours, flipping through musty pages until his eyes swim, and they come up with absolutely jack-shit. He wishes he could say that he’s surprised. He decides not to say anything about it at all, because Ranboo is wavering on his feet and Phil’s face is held in tight lines, and his negativity won’t do either of them any good.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Phil says, “but we need to turn it in. It’s been a long fucking day.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been one day. Doesn’t feel like just this morning, they were marching into the Egg’s chamber, intent on taking it down once and for all. Doesn’t feel like they were chased out less than an hour later, battered and with one less than they started with, Dream escaped and everything gone to shit. It doesn’t feel like one day, and yet, it has been, and it reminds him of the war, at the end, when everything was happening so quickly and there was barely any time to process one event before something else was going wrong.

He doesn’t miss those days.

“How long can we afford to do this, Phil?” he asks, and doesn’t bother to hide his weariness. “How long can we afford to fuck around out here with nothing to show for it? We can’t even be sure that nothing’s happened in the Greater SMP, not with comms down.”

“I wish I had a good answer to that, Wil,” Phil says. “I really do. If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears.”

(does, perhaps, but it’s not one that Phil will like)

doesn’t, so the rest of the walk back out of the stronghold is made in silence. It’s a relief when they make it to the surface, the cold, biting air fresh on his face. He turns his face into the wind just to feel it, regardless of the sting. Night has fallen, the sun just the barest hint of purple-orange on the western horizon. Overhead, stars twinkle, bright and distant. Techno’s house is lit, now, an orange glow emanating from the windows. Tommy must have gotten a fire going.

Tommy. Right. They’ve left Tommy alone with Techno all afternoon. He’s too tired to be concerned about it right now. The house isn’t burning down, so they’re probably fine.

“I think I’m gonna go home for the night, if that’s okay,” Ranboo says. “I’ll meet up with you guys again in the morning?”

“Sounds good, mate,” Phil says, a bit distractedly; his eyes are roving over the cottage, probably searching for signs of property damage. But Ranboo takes it for agreement, so the kid nods, and then waves awkwardly to him, and then he’s walking across the snow toward the nearest mountain. For the first time, Wilbur realizes that there appears to be a house built into its side, not particularly pretty, but functional.

“With luck, they’re both conked out,” Phil mutters. He gathers his robes around him and heads for the door, and Wilbur trails after him.

Phil opens the door, and they’re greeted with silence. It is not the same silence from before; a fire crackles merrily in the hearth, now, some evidence of life. The house no longer gives an impression of a grave. But there are no voices that he can hear, nothing from the house’s two inhabitants, and perhaps Phil is right and they’re both asleep, but Wilbur doesn’t trust silence.

So as Phil goes over to the fire to stir up the coals, he makes a beeline for the ladder, climbing up as quietly as the creaky old thing will allow. The muttering hits his ears as soon as he pokes his head above the floor, hushed and furious, as if they both want to be shouting but are held back by some unspoken rule, some agreement not to break the peace of the rest of their surroundings. Or maybe that’s bullshit; Tommy isn’t one to care about things like that, after all.

He doesn’t step off the ladder, choosing to hang there for a moment instead, gripping the rungs uneasily. The wood is rough, and vaguely, he wonders if he’ll get splinters.

Technoblade is awake, and more than that, he is aware. That is the first thing his mind locks onto, the fact that his brother looks far better than he did earlier. He is still shaking, but far less, and his eyes are bright and present rather than fogged with pain. He sees no sign of gold, no lingering flickers and flashes of magic, and the relief is heady. He is not yet completely well; the fact that he is still in bed is evidence enough of that. But he is sitting up, and he no longer looks like death warmed over,

(too soon too soon)

and his face is twisted in irritation rather than pain.

Tommy has scooted his emerald block closer to the bed, is leaning forward, feet planted on the floor and hands planted on his knees, all bristling anger, indignation, face flushed and red. He puts Wilbur in mind of a cat, hissing and spitting at the object of his ire, making himself bigger than he truly is.

“—the fuck you want,” he’s saying, and his whisper is harsh, but it’s certainly a whisper. “I don’t fucking—I don’t owe you shit, you got that? I don’t owe you shit, so you can, you can fuck right off, you hear me?”

Techno blinks. “When did I say that, Tommy? Please tell me exactly when I said that,” he says, and—oh. Wilbur gets it now. Because Techno’s voice is quiet and rough, still thick with exhaustion, and he’s probably only a few minutes out from waking up. So, Tommy may be angry, may be positively irate, but whether he’s aware of it or not, he’s holding himself back, refusing to unleash the full force of his fury on someone who has objectively been through hell today.

(and Tommy is brash, and Tommy is loud, and Tommy performs being an irritating little shit like nobody’s business, but above all else, Tommy is good, and Tommy will never admit it, but he is kind, and it is a miracle that it hasn’t been beaten out of him along the way, that despite it all he has managed to keep his spirit, but he is kind, he is. and it is more despite him than because of him, but it is little moments like these that remind Wilbur why he is so proud of him)

“You don’t have to say it,” Tommy bites out. “Mister, mister violence is the only language or whatever the hell, mister vengeance, you’re big on favors and repaying them. But I—I didn’t ask you to do shit, you did that all on your own, so I don’t owe you. I’m saying it right now, I don’t owe you.”

There is an edge to the words. A fear. An expectation. Wilbur doesn’t expect it to hit him as hard as it does, but there is a pang in his chest, and he wonders if this is yet another lesson he imparted on his little brother. To expect no kindness without an ulterior motive.

(that was how he was, in the darkness of the ravine, seeking out the duplicity of everyone around him, even when there was none to be found, but it is one thing to look back and see clearly, now, what he was like, the slope he slid down, the spiral he entered, and another to continue to be confronted with the evidence of the hurt he caused, the hurt he has yet to truly make up for)

(here is a certainty that has not left him: he does not deserve Tommy’s forgiveness. that is another thing that can be attributed to his kindness. the kindness that somehow, between the wars and the country and the shadows, he did not manage to take from him, not like he took so much else)

“I didn’t do it so that you’d owe me,” Techno says. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Why should I?” Tommy erupts, though it is the quietest eruption that Wilbur has ever heard from him. “Why—give me one fucking reason why I should believe a word out of your mouth.”

“I don’t lie,” Techno states, flat. “I have no reason to.”

“Oh, right,” Tommy says, “because you’re so fucking honorable. You’re so fucking—I can’t deal with you, you know that? You’re a fucking hypocrite, and I don’t care what your game is. I don’t care. You’re the worst, and I—”

“I don’t want you dead,” Techno says. “That’s it. That’s why I did it, Tommy, simple as that.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy snaps. “Then what the fuck was Doomsday, then? What the fuck was telling me to die like a hero, then? You are just talking complete shit, shit out of your mouth, out of your arse—”

And then, Tommy, cuts off, because Techno tenses, seizing up, a sudden glimmer of gold in his eyes, and he grunts, hands curling into his bed sheets, his face blanking. Tommy moves forward, seemingly on instinct, hands reaching out to steady him, and there is is again, that kindness, that kindness that Tommy would rather die than allow anyone to point out.

The fit subsides, Techno breathing heavily. Tommy lingers for a moment, and then jerks back, scowling, as soon as Techno makes eye contact with him.

“Fuck off,” he mutters.

“At the end of the day,” Techno says, slowly, “it doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not. I’ve been angry at you, Tommy. I can’t say that I don’t feel like it was justified. I’m sick of—” He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply, and then opens them again. “I’ve said all this before. It doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you dead, and I wasn’t about to let Dream kill you in front of me when I could do somethin’ about it. Between my first life and your third one, it was an easy choice.” He sighs, settling further down on the pillows. “Take it or leave it. I’m not arguin’ this right now.”

Tommy’s mouth works. Several emotions flicker across his face, and Wilbur can only pick out a few of them: disbelief, more anger, but perhaps something that might be hope. Perhaps. But if it is, he doesn’t get the chance to find out, because at that moment, Phil calls up from the base of the ladder.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and that’s right, he’s just been standing here, on the ladder, for the past few minutes. He can see why that would make Phil concerned. But that means that Tommy and Techno are both suddenly made aware of his presence.

“What—how long have you been there?” Tommy sputters, and he shrugs, clambering up the last rung or two and stepping fully into the room.

“Not too long,” he says. “Glad to see you cognizant, Techno.”

It’s all he can think so say, really, though there are a plethora of other statements crowding his mind. That has always been a weakness of his, his inability to allow himself to be emotional when it really counts, his habit of hiding everything beneath layers of deflection and a cool exterior. He and Techno aren’t dissimilar on that front, though Techno has a different way of going about it.

(so here is what he does not say: I’m so glad you’re alright, I saw you die when you’re supposed to be deathless and it terrified me, please never do that again, I know we’re broken and fucked up and maybe we’ll never be what we once were but I can’t imagine a life knowing that you won’t be there when I need you to be, so please, please stay alive)

“Can’t say I’m having a great time with it,” Techno mutters, and he’s definitely falling asleep again. “But thanks. Glad you’re not dead too, Wilbur.”

The ladder creaks again as Phil comes up, and he pauses a moment to survey the room before stepping in, eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene.

“Nobody bleeding or dying?” he asks wryly, and then crosses the floor to perch on the edge of Techno’s bed. “Hey, Tech, how you feeling?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” Techno says. “Top form, point me at the orphans.”

Phil laughs, more relief than anything else, and smooths some of Techno’s hair away from his face. Techno huffs out a sigh, but allows the gesture.

“Great,” Tommy says. “You all get anything, or was this whole thing for nothing?” There’s more hostility in his voice than necessary, though whether it’s genuine or to cover for his earlier emotion, Wilbur can’t tell.

“Nothing yet,” Phil says, unfazed. “We’ll spend the night here, get back at it in the morning. If we still don’t find shit, we’ll discuss where to go from there.”

Tommy crosses his arms, looking away, and he’s displeased at the concept of staying here, Wilbur can tell. So as Phil continues to lean over Techno, he slides over to him, nudging him in the arm. Tommy flinches, and then relaxes, eyeing him up.

“You good?” he murmurs, keeping his voice down.

“Fine,” Tommy replies. “Are we actually going to get anything out of this, or was this a big fucking waste of our time?”

Again, vitriol, and he remembers the conversation between him and Tubbo, overheard and unmentioned. After everything they’ve been through, a separation can’t be easy. On either of them, but especially on Tommy.

(a memory: buzzing excitement at doing something good, at helping, shining compasses, an inscription: Your Tubbo)

“It won’t be a waste of time,” he says, and the plan that’s been formulating in the back of his mind solidifies. It’s not a very good plan. But it’s something, and it’s more than they’ve got. “I’ll make sure of that.”

It is a general’s responsibility to lead his soldiers to victory, after all. And in the case of a half-baked, reckless plan, to take matters into his own hands.

And it is more than the general’s responsibility. It is his. For better, or for worse.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #philza #ranboo #dreamxd #tommyinnit #technoblade #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #pogtopia ref tag #minor but it's present

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higuchimon · 3 years

Text

[fanfic] Not A Good Job

He slipped in through the window, sneering at how easy this was. For all that this Haou had a monstrous reputation as a duelist, he didn't seem very aware of how to keep unwanted guests from entering his home.

Snowdun kept his tail tucked close to himself, ears perked and nose drawing in air, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. But so far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could tell that there were spirits in the area, but this was the castle of a warlord. Spirits were all over the place.

So carefully he moved forward, finding the areas that would leave no trace of his passing. He passed rooms where people talked to one another about whatever the servants of Haou spoke about, none of them noticing anything as he did so. He sneered to himself again; this would probably be the easiest gig that he'd pulled off in his entire life.

Somewhere around here, he knew, would be Haou's treasure room. He didn't know what sort of treasure it was, but he knew one thing - Haou was a king, a mighty warlord who'd ruled this land for quite some time now, and that meant he had treasure gathered somewhere. Treasure that Snowdun would identify, decide if it was worth his efforts, and then return to take away.

This wasn't even close to the first time that he'd done this. Snowdun enjoyed going around to whatever fortresses he could find, scoping out their most valuable treasures, and taking them away to sell for money. He'd done it to Brron several times; the Mad King hadn't even noticed. There were other as well that he'd dealt with over the years.

Though he wasn't ever going to try sneaking into the Fallen Angel fortress ever again. He wasn't even certain which one of them had caught him, but he'd seen the look in the eyes of Fallen Angel Lucifer, and he never wanted to see that ever again.

He shook his head to dismiss the memory and focused on what he was doing now. Where would Haou keep his treasures? The most sensible place would be down below, where most people would never be able to get to. Carefully he flicked down there, bypassing guards and warriors alike, sometimes having to wait in hidden alcoves for half an hour or more at the time. He found himself quite grateful that he didn't have anywhere else to be. Not to mention that he'd neither eaten nor drunk before coming here. The last thing he would have wanted in this situation was to have a sudden call of nature and not know where the proper area was!

But slowly he made his way downward. He listened to those he passed to determine if any of them said anything that might be useful. Once he stopped, concealed by a fine tapestry, and paid strict attention to the conversation.

"Did you pick up anything interesting?"

Snowdun resisted the urge to peer from behind the tapestry and see who it was that spoke. These voices weren't familiar, but anything could provide him with information.

"A few things." This voice whispered of flame and burning death. Snowdun flinched briefly at the sound. He'd never been fond of fire. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore that and focus just on the words. "I put them in my hoard."

Hoard. Snowdun licked his lips. Hoards were treasure. Now all he needed was a way to get to the hoard. But - that could also mean - he had to look.

Slowly he peeked out, keeping himself as concealed as he could while still seeing what was going on. That wasn't easy but he did have a lot of experience. It mostly involved staying very still, since movement attracted attention.

Two monsters stood there chatting with one another. One he recognized as Skull Bishop - one of Haou's chief servants, his Death Duelists. Snowdun had made a point of ensuring he knew what all five of those, and the two or three others who were known to be close to Haou, looked like. At least this wasn't Snoww, Magician of Dark World or Freed the Dark General.

The other one, however, was even more terrifying to him. He bit back a whimper of fear at the sight of Dark Blaze Dragon, a creature of pure flame. It hovered above the floor, tail twined about itself, voice hissing with the flames that composed it. Snowdun shivered; he'd never robbed a dragon's hoard before, let alone a dragon of fire.

Never robbed a dragon's hoard before. He considered that carefully, then slowly smiled to himself. He didn't know any other thieves who'd done that either. While robbing Haou would be impressive and worth a great deal, robbing a dragon's hoard would be even more so. And if he could do both? They would sing of his exploits forever.

He kept himself back behind the tapestry, listening harder. There had to be a hint of where the treasure would be. Did Dark Blaze Dragon keep their hoard in the castle or did they have somewhere else to store their treasures? What were they even doing here? Did they guard Haou's treasure?

"Haou-sama said I could keep it," the fiery dragon purred, tail moving back and forth casually. "He has no use for it."

"That doesn't surprise me." Skull Bishop agreed. "Are you going to attend dinner tonight?"

The flaming tail shifted back and forth, possibly in some form of negation given the following words. "I would prefer to hunt for my dinner tonight. I've caught the scent of something interesting and I wish to track it down."

Snowdun winced. He did so hope that it wasn't him the dragon hunted. He thought he could hide enough - he was very good at that - but being chased never set well with him.

The two of them bid farewell and departed, each in a different direction, neither of which were near Snowdun. He leaned his head against the cool flagstones and pondered his options. Tracking Dark Blaze Dragon would probably lead him to the dragon's hoard or maybe even Haou's treasure. Following Skull Bishop might not award such treasures. But continuing downward stood both a chance of finding the loot and doing so without being caught. If he found nothing, then he could take another chance at a later time.

Once he was certain that no one else was out there, he moved onward, looking for a way to the lower regions. He headed down a row of stairs, through another corridor or two, then more stairs. This wasn't the first time he'd had to go so far down to find treasure but by the time he spied a wide set of double doors, reinforced with steel, but with no guards outside of it, he looked forward to carrying as much out of here as he could right now. He had an enchanted bag with him that he'd intended to use to gather a sample of the treasure to carry back and ask his contacts how much they were worth before going back to take the rest of it.

Now he would pick everything up that wasn't nailed down. Haou could and probably would take more from wherever he got this. He didn't need all of it. He didn't need any of it. He controlled his minions through absolute terror. They didn't get paychecks.

Snowdun waited behind a pillar, watching and sniffing. He could still smell hints of fire here, so Dark Blaze Dragon probably came down here a lot. This might even be his hoard after all. It wasn't labeled; it could be anything. Slowly finally Snowdun moved forward and rested his fingers against the door. It didn't seem locked.

In retrospect, that should have sent him fleeing as fast as he could go. But at the moment he pushed the door in and entered, still trying to keep himself aware and yet in awe at what he saw.

Treasure chests everywhere. Each one sealed and locked, but he was a thief. It was what he was, a Burglar. He knew treasure when he saw it, and he knew that these would bring him wealth beyond his wildest dreams, before or after he sold it all. He whisked out his bag and started to drag it over the nearest chest.

One by one each chest ended up in the bag. Snowdun stopped paying attention to what else happened in the room as he worked on clearing it out. Hours must have passed before he finally turned back to the door, ready to leave. He'd done a very good job. There wasn't a single chest or random coin or jewel left. The last item he held and admired, a glorious golden goblet, set with diamonds and rubies. Quite gaudy and probably worthless to drink out of, but Snowdun liked it.

But when he raised his head, ready to slip out, he stood shocked. There in the door stood those two same ones from before - Skull Bishop and Dark Blaze Dragon. Snowdun growled low. This wasn't going to be a good night.

"I told you that I smelled a thief," Dark Blaze Dragon declared, tail lashing back and forth, setting small bits of dust on fire as they did. "A Burglar, in fact." A tongue of flame licked at their jowls. "Dinner."

Skull Bishop chuckled, regarding Snowdun as if he were some sort of dirt beneath his feet. He fingered his great sword. "You were right indeed. Now, thief, set the bag down and I might consider requesting Haou-sama to spare your life."

Snowdun shifted, gripping harder onto the bag. He'd taken this all - he wasn't going to give it up. "Why would I do that? I'm not hurting anyone!"

"You're attempting to take what's mine," Dark Blaze Dragon hissed, tail flashing harder, tiny bits of flame falling from their claws. "And I will not allow that. Haou-sama has assigned me to guard this place and I am free to devour any who enter here without permission."

Snowdun backed off, clutching the bag and goblet close to himself. He didn't have any spare hands to defend himself and he didn't see any other ways out of here. Skull Bishop stalked forward, boots clicking on the floor.

"If you choose not to surrender what you've stolen, then my companion will roast you. Surrender the items and you might be spared. Haou could find a use for you."

That didn't encourage Snowdun at all. He shook his head. "There's nothing that I would want to do for Haou!" He judged the distance between the two of them and darted forward, intent on sliding between them and pelting his way up the stairs. He would figure out what to do after that - but finding the nearest window and jumping out of it remained one of his favorite plans. Most people didn't expect that and while they stood around in shock, he could get to safety.

He was a rat, after all. Hiding in plain sight was one of his specialties.

He'd scarcely begun to slide between them before Skull Bishop's heavy sword slashed down onto him, knocking him to one side and sending that goblet skittering across the floor and out of sight. Only the fact it was the flat of the blade saved his arm from having been taken off. Snowdun skittered to one side, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Dark Blaze Dragon, especially when one fiery claw caught onto the back of his shirt.

"Fleeing isn't an option," the flame dragon hissed. "Especially not when you carry what isn't yours with you." A claw of flame wrenched the bag away from him, then the creature sniffed even more at him. "He has more treasure on his person," Dark Blaze Dragon reported. "Search him."

Snowdun wanted to get out of there. But Dark Blaze Dragon shoved him towards Skull Bishop, who wrapped one powerful hand around his throat, choking his air off. The rat creature struggled and squeaked, tail lashing furiously, his metallic claw trying to grab hold of Skull Bishop's hand and get it off of him, but to no avail. If he'd been able to get a grip, it might have been different.

Coldly and clinically, Skull Bishop searched him, pinning him up against the wall with one hand. One by one he pulled out other bags that Snowdun had with him, dropping them with small metallic clinks onto the ground. He shook his head.

"I'd heard rumors of a skilled thief. You might be useful indeed to Haou-sama. This is your last chance. Agree to serve my master or face the consequences of refusal."

Snowdun twitched harder and harder, tail lashing hard against the cold stone, trying not to look too often at the dragon and how the dragon kept staring at him, as if he had a sign over his head reading "good food here". He wasn't doing a very good job of it. "What would he want me to do?" If he could buy just time enough to escape that would be good enough. He had no intentions whatsoever of doing anything that over-arrogant human wanted him to do.

"You are skilled in getting in and out of places without being seen. You can go to where people resist Haou and worm your way into a position to open gates for our army. In return, you would be allowed to live." Skull Bishop informed him.

Snowdun snorted as harshly as he could. Speaking wasn't his greatest strength, especially not not when he had only what air he could get in through Skull Bishop's grip on his neck. But he tried his best to appear unaffected - and knew he still wasn't doing a good job of this.

"Be his little run ahead dog? Why would I do that?" Every word was one more moment that he had to live. Each moment he lived was one more moment to find a way out of here. He thought he saw one, slim as it might be, but he had to walk this carefully. He fought to keep away a moan of fear just at the thought of Haou and having to do anything that he said.

Skull Bishop's lips performed a movement that in someone else might have been considered a smile. Snowdun wasn't so certain about it. He thought it might mean the same thing. Or at least be intended to.

"Because if you don't, then you're going to be killed. You won't even be allowed the honor of a duel - if you even know how."

Snowdun had to admit to himself that he didn't know how. He'd never gone to the effort to learn, not when thievery came so much easier to him. He twitched harder, then sank back against the wall, relinquishing all efforts to get away.

"Do I really have a choice?" He sagged back, hoping this would allow him some air if nothing else. At least he wasn't yet to the point of not being able to speak at all. Though he didn't doubt Skull Bishop would get him there with little effort.

Dark Blaze Dragon's tail swished ever so lightly. Tiny bits of trash on the floor flared up in its wake. "You can choose to serve Haou - or you can choose to be my dinner. I can tell you which one I would prefer."

Skull Bishop shifted his grip so that Snowdun could actually breath but wasn't touching the floor at all. "I'll introduce you to Haou-sama."

Snowdun found himself carried along like a child in a sack. His own sacks were taken by Dark Blaze Dragon into the vault and the last he ever saw of them included the dragon tearing open the bags and starting to sort out the treasure as it tumbled out in a waterfall of silver and gold with thousands of sparkles of gemstones. He wished that he would have the chance to come get it all again.

But he told himself over and over as he was dragged up the stairs he'd worked his way down so carefully that even if he had to open the way for Haou's army, that also meant that he could open the way for anyone who might want to enter into Haou's castle.

If he were stupid enough to trust a Burglar, then Haou deserved whatever he got.

The End

Notes: I do have plans for a sequel. One day. But not today. Also, I love the Death Duelists and I wish we’d seen more of them. Well, that’s what fanfic is here for!

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #gxmonth2021 #yuuki juudai #haou #skull bishop #burglar (oc)#dark blaze dragon (oc)

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devnicolee · 4 years

Text

The Chosen Ones (7)

A/N: Enjoy! There is one chapter left, which I am really excited about :)

Warnings: Slow burn, verbal abuse (and one mention of physical abuse), angst

Word Count: 6,000 words

Pairings: M’Baku x OC

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Asha groaned as she felt something nudging her shoulder, assuming it was M'Baku's feeble attempts to wake her up. "Five more minutes," she mumbled, her voice groggy and tired. She shifted on her side, burying her face deeper into his chest, her hand sliding across his midsection to hold onto him tighter. There was no response to her exhausted pleas for more sleep. In fact, she quickly realized that all she could hear were his loud, deep snores. Yet she still felt another more forceful nudge hit her back, forcing her eyes to pop open.

Her eyes trailed up his torso and landed on M’Baku’s face, eyes closed as he continued to sleep. Her lips curved into a content smile as she just stared at him… her boyfriend. It amazed her how far the pair had come in mere weeks… from only existing in quiet, hidden moments to being able to love each other loudly and freely. She decided to lean on his advice, not to dwell on those broader implications, the details they would have to sort out back home. She knew he already gained her sister and brother’s approval, which was all she truly cared about. But the jury was still out on the Council and her mother. Asha already had two strikes against her where the majority of them were concerned.

It does not matter, she decided. She seceded 25 years to the will and opinion of the Council and her parents, she refused to cower or give them a day more. She worried about the other things and how to be in a successful relationship when she had no experience. But she and M'Baku loved each other and they both had the will and desire to be together. That meant they would climb any walls, weather whatever storm, and extinguish any fires this world threw at them. She finally had the person and love she prayed for every night; she would not let him go without a fight. Her thoughts were interrupted by something hitting her yet again. She frustratingly turned around to come face to face with the same black panther as last night. Inches away from her face, the panther used its nose to nudge her shoulder, a silent demand to start the day.

"Fuck!" she yelped, sitting up abruptly. She, of course, knew it meant her no harm but was also not expecting such a jarring wake up call. Her traveling companion, however, did not have this luxury. Her loud outburst immediately pushed M'Baku out of his restful sleep. Forever the warrior, he leaped out of the sleeping bag, robbing Asha of his warm body heat, and immediately raised his knobkerrie, ready to strike. He examined the cave terrain wildly, searching for an unknown threat.

"Stand down soldier," Asha chuckled as she ran her hands through the soft, thick black fur of the now resting panther, laying down relaxed after doing their job to wake the couple up. Her heart still thumped loudly against her chest as it tried to return to its resting rate. "It woke me up and I was n-not expecting a Bast wake-up call. Sorry for screaming," she offered before standing up herself.

"Damn panthers," M'Baku mumbled angrily under his breath. But he shook off his annoyance rather quickly as Asha cleared up their makeshift camp. "What time is it?"

Asha fiddled with her beads, immediately distracted by two texts from her brother and sister. "U-u-uh just after 7. But we better get going. Brother called an emergency council meeting 2 hours before the King's Exhibition. We need to find the herbs and get back to the palace before then." The balls of light keeping them warm the night prior bounced around as the two moved about, getting ready to finish the last leg of their journey. Asha raised her hands, each instinctively moving back toward their owner as her skin absorbed them.

"Why a council meeting?" M'Baku asked as he pulled bags of fruit out of his bag for both to munch on for breakfast and swung it back on his shoulders.

"Well, we do not need to convince the whole country... just the Mining and Border Tribes. No need to wait for the King's Exhibition if we can avoid it. It is supposed to be a fun and joyous event, believe it or not."

The two emerged from the cave, the Panther waiting for them on the small cliff. They fell in step behind it as it led them back to their original trail. The morning air was crisp and cold, the sun peeked through the swaying tree tops giving them a sliver of light. It still didn’t look like morning on their path though, the thick forest blocked out most of the sun. The mountain had a new layer of fresh, undisturbed snow, which did not remain long as their footprints smashed through it.

"What is the King's Exhibition anyway?" Despite not following the Panther Goddess, all of Wakanda was invited to partake in the celebrations of the week-long Festival of Bast. This was to be the Jabari's first year and he planned on participating to show solidarity. However, M’Baku quickly realized he had no idea what was involved.

"Oh, it is just a show of our King's strength and prowess in battle. Really just a chance for my oh-so-humble brother to show off. He basically fights the Dora, members of the King's Guard and then any challenger from across Wakanda. But unlike Challenge Day, no one is fighting to the death. It is more of a public training session. Everyone loses to him, of course," she added.

"What is the point of it?" he inquired, knocking some branches out of their path.

"It shows the strength Bast gives her protector. Her power and by extension, his power to protect all of us. It is quite fun to watch, or so I have heard," she added as a caveat. Snow drifted down lightly around them from the branches and leaves above them, immediately melting to water as it connected with her clothes.

"You have never been?"

She chuckled, managing to keep at least some of the bitterness out of her voice. "You would be surprised at the amount of things I have never seen or done. I have not celebrated a Festival of Bast in 15 years. Though, I didn't much care to celebrate her in those later years to be honest." M'Baku glanced over at her and noticed a flicker of shame and regret passing behind her dark brown eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, pulling on her arm to stop her. "You don't need to feel ashamed about that. You did the best you could. Bast forgives, clearly," he said, gesturing toward the panther that stopped a few feet ahead of them to wait.

Asha nodded softly, looking up at him to find concern in his big brown eyes… concern and intense love and adoration for her. Love and adoration that made her legs grow weak and the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She couldn’t explain it but it felt like the farther they went on this journey, the easier it became to open her heart and share her soul with this gentle giant beside her. She immediately thought back to what Bast told her, how the journey of loving and accepting herself would make loving others that much easier. Bast is rarely wrong.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that... be reminded of that. T-there is just so much I would have done differently had I known what I know now… you know?" she responded as they broke their eye contact and continued uphill. Asha, being someone who did not train incredibly often, was beginning to feel the strain of this journey as the air grew thinner and the path steeper. M'Baku seemed perfectly capable and fine with the hike but she was starting to grow that uncomfortable stitch in her side that she usually got when she trained with T'Challa.

"Yes, regrets are the price we pay for living. We all struggle with that… trust me. But it is not about how you lived before, but how you choose to live now. All those things you would do differently, you can do going forward. You have a bright future ahead, Asha. You have to just decide what you want to do with it."

Silence fell over the two; the only sounds were the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots, the random babble of animals moving through the trees around them as she contemplated his words. Asha went from having no real future at all to the one she always dreamed of. However, she now had to apply those dreams to her real life. She was no longer limited, chained in darkness with small fleeting glimpses of the sun. She was fully stepping in the light and she could finally bask in its warmth, serenity, and peace. Now that she was standing in the sun, she was not sure exactly what path she should forge. But she knew, a path without M'Baku was not a viable one. Where the light took her, she was determined to have him by her side loving and affirming her.

The inner light now flooding Asha's life was only eclipsed by the darkness the forest plunged them in as they trekked farther up the mountainside. It was as ominous as the night before, possibly even more so since they both knew the sun was shining above the thick treetops. The rustles and chatter of the forest seemed to get louder as they went, M'Baku constantly raising his weapon and shielding Asha as if a monster was seconds away from emerging from the trees. Each step seemed to dial up the creepy meter of the whole journey, putting the two on edge. They were not deterred; at the top of this summit laid their destiny, their reason for being. They had no choice but to press forward, stomping out any anxiety or fear that tried to poke through their armor of confidence.

"Do you like Jabariland?" M'Baku asked out of the blue.

Asha gave him a confused look from the corner of her eye, noting the way his hands fidgeted. Was he nervous? "It is gorgeous... the people were amazing. I felt more at home there... more at peace than I ever had in the Golden City. What is not to like?"

"Yes, but could you see you-" he started to say before he cut himself off, raising his hand to stop her. The panther leading their way had stopped, halting in front of a break in the trees. Asha walked to stand behind it and saw them.

"Glory to Hanuman," M'Baku whispered, amazed that a childish dream and a hunch led them to this. The only two people in the world who could make it to this promised land. The herbs sat in the middle of the clearing, covered in thick clear ice. But nothing could diminish the distinct and almost magical purple glow of the heart-shaped herb. The purple glow reflected across the white snow as the bright sun shined down on the field, filled with more herbs than either could have dreamed of.

"Bast... M'Baku, this is it. You were right!" Asha exclaimed, clutching his thick bicep. "W-we can save T’Challa, w-w-we can save the Black Panther." She hadn’t let herself get too attached to the idea that they were right, after all, it was a longshot. But here they were, staring their and Bast’s dreams in the face and it was glorious.

The moment her foot connected with the hard Earth in the clearing, it started. It was soft initially, like faint distant whispers as several quiet voices invaded her ears. She pushed forward, ignoring them. Nothing would stop her now. With each inch forward, the voices grew louder and more unruly. Asha had no idea what they were saying, what they wanted. She knew it was all in her head but she understood why such a phenomenon would drive people away from this place. It was almost impossible to ignore and it was terrifying. A piercing pain started to spread through her skull as she tried to continue. Soon the pain, the symphony became too loud to ignore.

"Ah!" she cried out as she fell to her knees, so close that a herb was within arm’s reach.

"Asha!” He had been watching from the tree with the panther and rushed forward when she hit the ground. He was at her side in record speed. He clutched her face, rotating her head in his hands as tears streamed from her eyes. He examined her head and body finding no obvious injury, realizing that the voices they were warned found their next victim.

She whimpered slightly from the pain, unable to speak as it became too much to handle. He felt his world crumbling at her pain and distress. He wondered if his hypothesis was wrong. Had he brought her all the way here, pumping her soul with false hope with every mile only to push her into a world of pain?

"Asha... It's gonna be ok... Go back and I will get the herb. It is ok, you have done more than enough," he whispered, offering more encouraging words as he helped her to her feet. The pain had yet to subside, she was not sure if she had experienced agony such as this before. But as she started to walk back toward safety, the black panther, a casual and quiet guide up until this point, brandished its teeth at her and growled deeply. Its body blocked the way back toward the trees, forcing her to stay there. As if a cue, more panthers emerged from the trees surrounding them, pacing so neither could retreat. M'Baku, deciding that the sooner they had an herb in hand, the sooner they would be allowed to leave, reached to pull one out of the Earth. However, he pulled and pulled but its roots were unmovable. The ice casing around the herb was too thick to break and remove the herb from its flower and the ground was too hard to rip the flower from the soil. He tried everything he had in his arsenal while whatever magical properties inhabiting this mountain brought his all-powerful partner to her knees.

Asha pushed through her pain and watched him struggle with the plant, a realization dawning on her. There was a reason it was the two of them and no one else. Further proof that their survival depended on each other, that their destinies were intertwined long before they knew of each other's existence. He got them here and now, she had to do her part.

"I-I h-have to melt th-th-the ice, M'Baku. W-we can’t t-take them frozen l-like… this. I c-can do it," she pushed out, her breathing labored as she tried to overcome the pain and channel her powers.

M'Baku immediately shook his head, "Asha... you were on death's door not even a full 48 hours ago, you are not strong enough to use your powers like this yet."

Asha shook her head, "I made it up this m-mountain. This is my purpose, I c-cannot.... I w-will not fail.” She crawled closer to the herb and sunk her warm hands into the thick snow around the herb closest to her.

“Bast, give me strength," she whispered to herself. She closed her eyes and channeled all the fire, the heat in her being down into her palms and fingers. She imagined the field in her mind and pictured projecting that heat outward like a blanket. Her labored breathing grew as she fueled all the power in her body into the ground beneath her. the heat from her internal flame slowly melting the clear ice protecting each herb.

Asha grew concerned, as she tried to melt all the herbs that she did not have enough energy for this task. She could feel her steam running out. Thankfully, the ice transitioned to water on the last herb just as her body grew cold, void of any flames. As soon as the last herb thawed, Asha's eyes fell closed slowly, her body slumping into the snow as her mind succumbed to the voices and tumbled into her past.

T'Challa and Asha circled each other on a deep blue training map, the 10-year-old pushing her exhaustion aside to train with her older brother. She and T'Challa went blow for blow for a few minutes, trading hits as they danced across the training floor. She had gotten surprisingly better since they started training together, improving far more in their secret limited sessions than her actual training. She was small and quick, which helped her keep up with him even though he was clearly more skilled and stronger.

A few minutes of skillful fighting and she found herself on her brother's back, arm around his neck holding him in a chokehold. "Yield!" she demanded playfully.

"Never," he retorted as he flipped her over his head and forced her to the ground. He did it as slow as possible, as to not actually hurt her. She rolled on her back for a few minutes, catching her breath before standing again and starting the process over.

Their second fight went similarly. However, Asha suddenly felt different. She felt like another energy source coursing through her veins. She figured it was merely a second wind to help her fight. It propelled her to fight harder than she usually did, forcing T'Challa to up his game. She and T'Challa circled each other before he lunged toward her again. She raised her hand to block his first attempt when he jumped back unexpectedly, dodging with grace toward the side. Bewilderment filled her eyes until she saw a line of fire separating the two siblings.

"A- Asha... what is going on?" he asked tentatively as he pushed himself to stand.

Asha looked down at her hands to find them covered in flames. "Oh my bast!" She dropped to the ground and tried to stomp them out by banging her hands on the floor, but they wouldn't die. Her hand felt fine, she did not feel the agony of being on fire and yet she was. "T'Challa... what is happening to me??" she cried, panic setting in as she stared at this peculiarity.

"I do not know. But stay calm, I will get baba. It will be alright Asha."

Asha sunk to the ground, tears streaming down her face as she watched her hands and, unbeknownst to her at the time, her future burn right before her eyes.

The training room dissolved, her father's office replacing it as Asha sat, hands back to normal, next to T'Challa as he tried to calm her down. He rubbed comforting circles into his young and extremely distraught sister's back as they waited for their father to speak. Her father paced by his desk, throwing agitated looks at his daughter every few minutes, making her feel as though she had done something wrong.

"She is one of them. A mutant," he spat out with disgust.

"So what do we do?" their mother asked quietly from the other side of the office, keeping a healthy distance from her now dangerous daughter. "You have campaigned against mutants in our borders for years. This will look like hypocrisy."

"We do nothing," T'Chaka hissed. "We do nothing, we say nothing. No one can know about this."

T'Challa stood, a look of disbelief painted on his face, "How do you expect to keep this a secret? She is a princess? It is not like you can just hide her away."

"No, that is exactly what we are going to do. She almost killed you, T'Challa! Her powers are uncontrollable. We will find a way to suppress them until she is old enough to control them. Until then, she will not leave the palace," her father decided resolutely. It was not lost on Asha how they all spoke about her as if she were a mere object and not a person sitting right in front of them.

She shared a scared look with her brother before the scene changed again. She was now sitting on her brother's bed as he prepared for his 18th birthday party. They had been laughing and joking around, until their father appeared in the doorway.

"Yes baba?" he asked.

"You look good, strong. Please finish quickly. It is not good to be late to a party in your honor." Asha wanted to shrink herself or have the floor dissolve her as her father's eyes scanned the room. In the last three years, she found the best way to survive in her home was to simply avoid her father at all cost. At least then, he could not verbally castigate her for merely existing.

"Asha!" he barked, "What are you doing?"

Asha hung her head, "I was just helping T'Challa get ready. I will go back to my room."

He nodded, "Good. We cannot have anyone seeing you wandering around during the party. Go now."

"Yes, baba." Asha climbed off T'Challa's bed and started to walk toward the door. "Happy Birthday, T." She gave him a tight hug and a wide smile, mainly for his benefit. She did not want him worrying about her on his big birthday and knew he was already concerned about leaving her without her only advocate when he went away for university. That smile carried her until she was out of the view of his door and down the hallway to her own room.

Her brother's room disappeared as an intense argument in the royal gardens formed, Asha face to face with Hasani.

“What is the issue? It is just a date outside this Bast forsaken palace?"

An adult Asha tried to let him down easy, gave all the excuses her father outlined for her and he refused to accept any of them. It was almost as if he wanted to catch her in a lie. "I cannot leave. I would feel more comfortable if we just stayed in."

"No! I want to go on a real date outside of this palace. Today!" he demanded rudely. Asha scoffed silently. She knew the courting dates were part of the royal deal, her dad's attempt to pawn her off on someone else. However, she did not need to put up with another verbally abusive man in her life, her father was more than enough.

"Perhaps we should just chat another day? You seem upset, Hasani and I do not wish to upset you further. You know your way out, yes?" she said politely, deciding to deescalate the situation before it grew out of control. She turned away from him slightly, preparing to walk out of the gardens.

"No!" A hand enclosed around her wrist and yanked her back. His grip was so tight that Asha knew a bruise would blossom on her wrist later.

"Hasani, you are hurting me! Let me go!" she whispered, trying to avoid a scene as she failed to tug her hand out of his grip. She looked around for a passing Dora, cursing herself for telling Alexis that she did not need to watch over her during this date. She could feel the Panther beating against its cage, determined for release as someone attacked its owner. Even with the rings donning each of her fingers, she knew the flames were growing to uncontrollable levels. "Hasani, I do not want to hurt you, please let me go!" she begged, knowing that this was not headed in any good direction.

He scoffed, "What could you do to hurt me?"

As if on cue, sparks flew out of her hands, one hitting him right on his wrist causing him to jump back several feet. Fire shot out of her extended hand, drawing a line between them to protect her.

"W-w-what the fuck? I-I knew you weren't sick!" he cried, outraged.

Asha's hands clamped over her mouth in shock as she tried to approach him and make this right. "Hasani, please! I-it is not what it looks like!" But it was too late, he was off, Asha knew, to tell his mother who was meeting with her father in his office. She took off running after him, knowing that whatever happened next... she would certainly pay for this.

She was back in her father's office, Asha arguing with her father who refused to listen. "But I do not love him, baba! And he doesn’t love me! H-he hates me! H-he treats me horribly. You cannot expect me to marry him!"

"I don't particularly care if you love him or not. Sometimes arranged marriages are a necessary part of being royalty. You were the fool that showed your… disease to him. These are the consequences."

Asha threw up her hands, anger causing tears to stream down her face as she defended herself for the 100th time for the incident that thrusted her into this mess. She shared an exasperated glance at her brother and sister, the only two people who were ever on her side. "It was an accident, baba! I swear."

She knew she messed up, she regretted it everyday but she didn’t deserve this. She especially didn’t deserve the bloodied cut and bruise on her face, the reason her brother dragged her to her father’s office to demand the engagement be called off. It took Asha, Okoye and three other Dora to pull T’Challa off Hasani after he happened to walk in on an argument between the couple right as the back of Hasani’s hand connected with Asha’s cheek. It was the first time he had ever done such a thing and Asha knew it would be last since her brother made it clear he would not live to tell the tale if he touched her like that again.

"Sometimes I think you are determined to destroy this family and everything I built," he said as he settled behind his desk. "It is like you do not care if this family survives."

If he had slapped her in the face, that would have been less painful. "How could you say that?" she whispered, the hurt clear in her words.

"Baba! Please!" T'Challa said, no longer a young boy now but a grown man who refused to let anyone, even his beloved baba, attack his sister. He pushed Asha behind him as if he could act as a physical barrier between her and their father's verbal abuse. He, of course, knew it was too little too late to protect her from him but he tried to mitigate where he could. "Asha is not trying to destroy us by refusing to marry an abusive man. You did not hear the way he spoke to her. Why would you want her to marry a man who cares so little for her? Who is blackmailing our family into it? He has already proven that he has no self-control or respect for her. If you think those bruises were a one-time incident, you are mistaken. These lies have gone far enough, it cannot be worth it anymore."

"Enough!" King T'Chaka yelled, silencing his disobedient and reckless children. "T'Challa, you will stay out of it. You will be king one day but that is not today. And Asha, you will marry Hasani. You are lucky I was able to find this man for you. He is of royal blood, far better than you could have hoped for. Now, T'Challa and I will be leaving for Sokovia in a week's time. I suggest you take that time to accept this. I will not have this conversation with you again."

Asha nodded softly, her "Yes baba" so despondent and quiet that it broke T'Challa's heart. She shrugged off his comforting hand from her shoulder and raced out of the room. Asha rarely left her dad's office without tears clouding her vision, today was no different.

Asha woke among the dirt and swaying grass of the Ancestral Plane. Her second visit was far less confusing, almost as if she expected it. Bast did say she would see her again so she supposed this was that time. And this time, she knew she was not actually dead, which offered a small comfort.

She stood up and dusted the dirt off the long white dress with gold trim now hanging over her shoulders. Her bare feet sunk into the soft dirt as she walked toward a tree overflowing with black panthers. She did not need prompting, did not need Bast to lead her way. The path, the course forward, who she needed to speak to was as clear as day. She did not get very close before one jumped down from a high branch and landed in front of her.

Baba, she thought to herself. Sure enough, she watched as the panther quickly turned into a man... her father.

The two simply stood there, feet apart and stared at each other. He looked smaller than he did in life. He was never a big person, but his presence made up for what he lacked in stature... strong and intimidating. She never got to see the gentle King everyone else adored and worshiped. She had always only gotten the worst of him. She could not deny the small part of her that was filled with the urge to rush forward and hug him, the part that was still desperate for his approval and his love. But the larger part forced her feet to stay planted like a tree firmly in the same spot. She expected there to be more resentment toward him. What once was a burning inferno seemed more like a small contained fire, still present and noticeable but not all consuming.

"Why are you here... again?" he asked.

"That seems to be a question for Bast, not me... I found a new garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb and when I thawed it, I passed out. And I guess she brought me here."

"You found a new garden?" He did not even try to hide the surprise in his voice.

Asha scoffed, bowing her head slightly, turning away from him to study the horizon and the pale yellow and orange sky. "Always a tone of surprise. Apparently, Bast doesn't hate me or my kind as much as you did."

"I never hated you Asha."

"Really? You could have fooled me. 15 years... 15 years, you treated me like a prisoner, like I was nothing to you. If you did not hate me, you certainly didn't love me. It does not benefit either of us to pretend otherwise," she added coldly. If she was going to speak to him, it would be rooted in honesty, not historical fiction to sugar coat his actions simply because he died.

"I did not know how to deal with a child who was more powerful than I. Bast told me you were destined for great things and I refused to believe it. I was so obsessed with the mantle of King that I lost sight of... well, everything. I have had much time to think since being here."

"Yes, I would imagine death gives you all the time in the world to contemplate your failings," Asha responded, that small fire of resentment showing in her words, regardless of how she tried to contain it. The beautiful and serene terrain of the Planes did nothing to counter the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She did not know what she expected from a conversation with her father but this was lacking. But she wondered if every conversation would; after all he could not come back from the dead and redo her childhood. His damage was set in stone and no words would fix it.

"What will you do now?"

"I will take the herb down the mountain and save your golden son and your tribe from being uprooted. That is all T'Challa and I seem to do lately, save our country from your failures. I will save your country, as Bast destined it. And then, I will find my place in that country, the place you selfishly denied me for decades," Asha responded.

T'Chaka nodded sadly, "Can you forgive me? I was not perfect in life. I made so many mistakes that forced you and T'Challa down paths that almost led to Wakanda's destruction. If I could go back, if I could have a chance at life anew, I would do so much differently. I did not hate you, I hated your powers and what they represented. But for you, I am sure that distinction means little. I failed you as a father... I failed you as your King and unfortunately, my realizations came too late. I can't fix it; I can't make it up to you. But I can apologize… and I am so sorry. Truly."

Asha did not hate her father, that was true. She did not know if she loved him either. But she had finally lost almost all the anchors of her past life, this was the final one. No amount of harbored resentment would fix his mistakes. Hating him until the end of her days, refusing to forgive until she was in a tree in the Planes next to him would not give her the life and childhood she desperately had wanted and deserved. She knew she needed to learn how to move on, to stop being weighed down by the past. She did not need to love her father to forgive him. She could not carry this pain, this resentment into her new life. She deserved to be light, not weighed down by someone else's failures and insecurities.

"A king who admits his faults? Quite the rarity." She refused to look at him, still studying the horizon, "You know I used to pray to Bast to take my powers, take my life, take everything so that you could love me. So that you could look at me as you looked at T'Challa and Shuri, with love, adoration, and hope. I wanted that so bad for so long that it almost killed me. Everyday felt like a festering wound that just would not heal. Your ego allowed me to wake up every day without hope, without light. Y-you caused that and, to be honest, I never thought I could forgive you for it. For planting seeds of hatred so deep in my heart that I started to believe them to be my own thoughts, my own insecurities."

She turned to face him finally, "But I cannot live that way anymore. I have finally started to uproot those weeds and my soul is so light," Asha sighed as tears sprung to her eyes, "that sometimes it feels as though I could fly away. I will never again be weighed down by the hatred you sowed nor the hatred your actions sowed in me for you. I will never feel for you as your other children do, but I do not need to hate you. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you."

"Thank you. I wish I could be there... to see the new garden," he whispered. "I wish I could be there to right so many wrongs."

"You are right where you need to be, T'Chaka," an angelic voice interrupted. They both turned to find Bast behind them. T'Chaka bowed slightly, stepping aside so the Goddess could approach. Asha stood tall as Bast stood directly in front of her, her face beaming with pride and joy.

"So, you solved my riddle?" Bast asked.

"Yes, but you couldn't have made it easier?"

"Well... There is just no fun in that. I am so proud of you, Asha. You fulfilled your destiny and Wakanda's future, that was once destroyed, is now like that garden: overflowing and teeming with life and hope. That is because of you and Lord M'Baku. Now I have a few final requests of you before you return to your life, if you do not mind?"

Asha raised her eyebrow, knowing the only acceptable answer was yes. She just nodded and waited for Bast to proceed.

"One, keep the Garden where it is. There will be a desire to move them to the Hall of Kings. But that mountain will serve as the bridge that connects the Jabari to Wakanda and the Black Panther. It must stay where it is to thrive. Two, you are learning about your powers, finally understanding and controlling them. Do not let another living soul limit them again. Three, love is overflowing in your life. It has not always felt like it, I know, but I hope you feel it now. Do not lose sight of the love you have, the family you have, as you settle into the mountains with your new one. There is space for it all."

Asha wrinkled her nose, laughing lightly. "Family in the mountains? M'Baku and I certainly are not there yet. Besides, I still need to find my place here."

"Of course... your place in Wakanda just may have a bit colder climate than you think, Asha Udaka," Bast mused. "It is time to go now. I expect I will not be seeing you again until your life has run its course, but worry not. You have a long and vibrant life ahead surrounded by those you love and who love you immeasurably."

Bast wrapped Asha into a hug so loving, so tender that only a Goddess could conjure such a thing. So much waited for her on the other side, and for the first time, she could not wait to get back to them.

***

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lotrfics · 4 years

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ARAGORN X FEMALE HUMAN READER: “Your past does not define you.”

Requested: No, but ya gal was hella inspired.

SPOILERS FOR THE SILMARILLION/THE CHILDREN OF HURIN BELOW! ONLY HIT KEEP READING IF YOU EITHER:

HAVE READ THE SILMARILLION/THE CHILDREN OF HURIN

DO NOT CARE AT ALL AND JUST WANT TO READ THIS

A/N: Reader is HEAVILY based on Turin Turambar, that’s why you have an OP sword and a somewhat tragic past. There are some changes though, Beleg, who was sadly unintentionally killed by Turin, doesn’t exist here. A character based on Nienor doesn’t exist here, so you won’t get involved in incest, don’t worry. Sorry for the lack of originality.

This is a female reader, I’m really sorry to any male readers out there, but I find that I relate to Turin personality wise, so I just inserted myself in this. Still, anyone can read this if you wish, gender and race is just specified.

This is a favorite of mine, so I hope you feel the same, or at least enjoy reading this. I’ve been having writer’s block for days now.

Everywhere you went, danger followed.

It was a complete surprise to you when after weeks being in the Fellowship, you still haven’t done any harm to them, intentional or not. If anyone knew who you truly were, then they have certainly heard of your deeds, both great and evil.

During the council, you were the third to join, assuring Frodo he has your sword. The sword you wielded served you well ever since you kept it in your possession. It was a unique sword, not like the others, not even Narsil, which was almost nothing more than an ordinary sword, or in the words of Boromir, a broken blade, if you come to think of it, could compete.

The sword of yours has done amazing and terrible things. It was a black sword that could cut through iron, glowed at the most random times, it really stood out whenever you unsheathed it. It also spoke when needed, which terrified you at first, but you dealt with it, luckily the sword only spoke to you whenever everyone else was asleep or you were alone.

You saw joining the Fellowship as a good chance to possibly redeem yourself and run away from the past. However, after arriving in Lothlorien, Galadriel looked into your eyes and forced you to relive all of your horrible deeds. You had realized you could not ignore your past, no matter how much you desperately wanted to, but you wanted to abandon it, to prove that you are no longer the unbearable impulsive person you once were.

Those memories were what kept you up at night. And if you were able to get some sleep, it was filled with nightmares that only repeated what happened during that fateful day.

One particular night, you refused to sleep, blankly staring down at the glowing black sword of yours. It was not always yours, it once belonged to your brother then it eventually came to you.

It was the same sword that claimed your brother’s life.

Your younger brother that you swore to protect with your own life. Ever since your home was overrun by orcs, your father was captured and killed. Your mother sent you far away from home, promising she would follow, but she never came, that was the last time you had seen her.

As the oldest, and with no one else around, you took it upon yourself to take care of yourselves, putting your brother first, always saving his life and even risking your life when necessary. You defended him from anyone who dared to cross him, to the point that your devotion cost someone’s life.

From a distance, Aragorn stood, keenly watching you. In your stoic expression, he noticed a faint hint of sorrow. Wanting to comfort you, he made his way to you.

“What troubles your mind?” Aragorn sat beside you, interrupting your thoughts, making you glance at him. “You are barely getting any sleep. Something is keeping you up.” He was trying to make sure he wasn’t pressuring you into telling him in case it was personal.

You shook your head at him. “It’s nothing.” But he saw right through you. The slight shaking of your hands that suddenly gripped tightly on your sword, it betrayed you. He correctly deduced that the sword had to do with it, but he wasn’t sure what about it could make you so upset.

“That sword of yours, it is more than just a black sword. It holds malice in it, does it not?” Aragorn asked. All his assumptions were correct. He could rarely be fooled, not even you, the most closed off person in the Fellowship, could hide secrets from him for long.

Maybe letting out all of your feelings and opening up to someone was actually what you needed to do all along. You couldn’t keep everything a secret anymore, you have been desperately wanting to tell someone, but you were afraid of the backlash you would get for everything you have done, that was the last thing you needed at the moment.

“This sword does have malice in it. It was forged by a Dark Elf long ago. You may or may not believe me, but I am not lying by telling you, this sword speaks to me occasionally.” Much to your relief, you noticed Aragorn was listening word by word.

“This sword was not always black, nor was it always mine. It belonged to my brother once. It was passed down to me when he died.”

Aragorn saw the expression of yours drastically change as you spoke of your brother, and he thought he shouldn’t have brought it up, it was getting personal already. “There is no need to tell me if-”

But you interrupted him. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but I want to. I can’t keep this to myself, I have been shutting everyone out who has been asking me my own past or the history of this sword I now own. And you are the only one that is willing to listen.” Aragorn nodded as you sighed, preparing yourself to confess every evil deed you have brought upon either yourself or others.

“When I was 9 years old, my father had been captured by orcs and tortured to death. We knew instantly, because when we slept that night, all of us had seen what happened in our dreams. I suppose my mother figured out the orcs were making their way to our home, maybe to end our bloodline, as she sent me and my brother away. That was the last time I ever saw her. She told us she would follow us, but she never came.”

“Ever since, I swore to myself to protect my brother from absolutely any harm that could get in our way. He was younger than I am, he couldn’t take care of himself as well back then. It only grew when years passed, I was still as protective of him as I was the day I took on the responsibility to care for him.”

“Little things such as mockery were not tolerated by me. I had a temper then, which I eventually learned to control, but I used to have a difficult time handling it. One day, an elf had compared my brother and I, who were humans, to animals. I saw in the eyes of my brother how hurt he was, in a rage, I threw a glass right at the elf, and injured him. My brother and I left as quickly as we could before the elf could do anything else.”

“The next day, while I was alone in the woods, the elf had attempted to ambush me. But I was faster than he could ever wish to be, and I caught him. My anger from the previous day had not fully diminished, so I thought it would be a great idea to humiliate him by stripping him off of his clothes. I had threatened him, and in embarrassment, he fled, unaware of his senses, he ran all the way to the edge of the cliff, then fell to his death.”

“That was when I began to realize how much of a monster I really was. I ran far away, not letting anyone know where I went, so I was deemed missing by those who knew me. But I had gone to a place filled with orcs, and fell right into a trap. I was ambushed and badly wounded, and bound me to leave me to my death. I had fallen unconscious from my injuries.”

“My brother traveled far to look for me. He’s not ready to lose his sister, his only family left. It took a while, but he did eventually find me. He tried to untie with his own hands, but saw that the orcs tied the ropes too tight, so he used his sword to remove the bounds.”

“Unfortunately, the sword slipped off his hands and cut my flesh. I awoke in an instant, but my vision was poor at that moment, I felt a presence right by me. I thought it was orcs executing me, so in an instant, I grabbed something closest to me, the sword that cut me, then swung at whoever was right in front of me. I heard the figure fall to the floor, so I knew it was dead.”

“I rubbed my eyes after that, then my vision became clear. I looked at the ground trying to see the orc, but to my horror, it was not an orc at all. It was my brother, who was trying to save me, and I murdered him in response. I noticed the sword was feeling weird, so I looked at it only to see it gradually turning black, as its previous owner had just been slain by the sword. I remember crawling over to his body and holding him close to me, mumbling broken apologies, begging him to come back, but all of it was useless. He was dead, nothing could change that.”

“I buried him myself, in a more peaceful place somewhere. I was defenseless, my own sword had broken when I was ambushed by the orcs, so I took my brother’s sword for myself. It was too powerful to be left without an owner. Just owning it reminds me of what I had done, I don’t want to think about it because I carried a heavy guilt, it was my biggest regret, my worst mistake.”

Not bearing to look at the sword, you let go of the sword, allowing it to fall to the floor, making a loud noise that would’ve woke everyone up had they been in the place where you and Aragorn were. You broke down, not caring if anyone else was watching, you were grieving over the death of your brother, which you haven’t done in a long time. You were covering your face with your hand as tears ran down, then you looked down in shame.

Aragorn was stunned. He felt ridiculous because he related to you when it came to hiding from something, but the reasons were different. He was running away from his lineage, trying to ensure he would never have to rule Gondor as the king, something Elrond used to reprimand him for. His relation to Isildur made him very hesitant, he knew very well what his ancestor had done, failing to destroy the One Ring when he got the chance.

But you? You were going through something completely different. You were running away from your past. You were a different person then, you knew very well the Fellowship wouldn’t like you at all if you never tried to change into a better person. You had led someone to their death, and even committed kinslaying.

His own story was absolutely nothing compared to yours. He had never committed anything as terrible as you have, fearing his own bloodline seemed like a joke.

You felt a hand land softly on your shoulder. Slowly, you pulled your hand away and looked up at Aragorn. You were expecting to be judged by him, but instead, you saw his face was full of pity. Your jaw dropped, it was not the reaction you were expecting at all, however, you appreciated it as he was listening to everything and remained calm to the end.

“I do not think you are a monster,” said Aragorn, “you may have done horrible things, but you are genuinely trying to become a better person. That is more than enough, and your attempts are working, you are a different person than you once were, you have changed for the better. But your dark thoughts are what makes you think different.”

“I was horrible then, and I still have the potential to be during this journey,” you said looking away from Aragorn, “I made someone jump off a cliff, and worst of all, I am a kinslayer. I am not called a kinslayer by others for nothing.”

“You are not who you think you are.”

At those words, you turned to look at Aragorn again, who was beginning to speak again. “Your past does not define you. It is a fact that not everyone will take your confession as well as I did, nonetheless I am glad that you chose to open up about this, even if it is just to me only, it is a sign of trust. I will be with you if you need if you wish to tell someone else, and I will even stand up for you if any of our companions belittle you for your past mistakes.”

For the first time in Lothlorien, you smiled. Those words touched you, you were grateful to have Aragorn by your side, and you made sure you were going to do the same, to be there for him whenever he begins to feel insecure about his bloodline, his relation to Isildur, or when he doubts his leadership abilities for becoming a king.

“Thank you, Aragorn. I did not know it until now, but I needed those words of comfort. I thank you again for your compassion.”

In that moment, Aragorn began to realize that if your past does not define you, then his own bloodline definitely doesn’t define him as well. He also realized that he had overlooked the great achievements Isildur accomplished in his lifetime, even if he failed to destroy the One Ring, he was the one who cut Sauron’s fingers off which was enough for Sauron’s defeat in the Second Age.

Then eventually, the unthinkable happened. Aragorn was proud to have the same blood as his ancestor’s run through his veins.

He was proud to be Isildur’s heir.

Taglist: @moony-artnstuff @aspiring-ginger @kata1803

#lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #fav

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marewriteblr · 5 years

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Traits And Quirks For Characters In Fantasy (list)

idk if I’m the only one, but when creating characters for my wips, I like to google lists of traits and quirks to give a bit more depth to them. and since I mostly write fantasy, I thought my characters deserved some more fantasy-related traits and quirks, so here’s a list of 150+ traits and quirks for characters in a fantasy setting!! hope it helps some of you too

has tattoos that keep changing

bad vision—takes magical potion to see clearly

addicted to magical food or drink

weird things happen when they laugh, sneeze, cough…

sees things that aren‘t there—or are they?

speaks in rhymes

has a wandering scar

has a wound that never stops bleeding

shows symptoms of a curse but pretends to not know how they got it

physical signs when lying, eg hair growing unnaturally fast

can summon any mythical creature easily

has a mythical creature for a pet

brings a slight breeze with them whenever they enter a room

was dead once

refuses to eat certain type of food for no specific reason as though it were amoral or inethical

obsession with a particular period in history

obsession with a magical creature/species

doesn‘t dance or make music because weird things happen

haunted by a ghost, their best companion

always has a candle lit (eg for their ghost companion)

can speak a mystery language only very few people understand

can turn the light of single stars on and off as they please

used to be part of a secret society

wears shoes with wings, no one knows if they actually work

can predict the future correctly for a ridiculous/bizarre reason

lives at court, no one knows why or where they came from but they let them stay

can only talk in questions or riddles

always seen reading spell books though they can‘t do magic

always seen reading books though they can‘t read. bonus if the reason for this is magical

tells everyone about the time they did something they‘ve certainly never done

tells everyone they used to be a dragon, is obviously lying

is actually blind, no one has noticed

never speaks, only talks to people telepathically, they’re used to it by now

has blood of unnatural colour, tells the weirdest stories of why that is—story changes every time

sacrificed 7 years of their life to magical creature who might claim them any minute

sacrificed a body part, determined to get it back

sacrificed their good looks

always learning spells by heart and seen using them the next day as though they’d prepared it for the occasion

has a secret identity, eg can do a certain type of magic and sneaks out to commit crimes/perform on stage/meet their companions…

keeps getting into trouble because people are convinced they have magic, but they don’t

belongs to a human/non-magical species but was kidnapped years ago and never went back

is actually a ghost

is immortal but doesn‘t know anything about history—can tell you all about the migration of dwarf antelopes on their continent throughout the centuries though

always corrects people on history/mythology facts with things they can‘t possibly know if they weren‘t there themselves

allergic to magic. bonus if they‘re a powerful wizard or deity

obsessed with knives and swords. you can fight them but they‘re more interested in the crafting of your blade

allergic to a certain spell and only that spell for no apparent reason

always has a certain item or food in their pocket in case they need to bribe a magical creature today

miscorrects others‘ pronunciation of spells and pronounces them wrong themselves (eg emphasis on wrong syllable)

talks in a fake elf accent to piss off elves

pretends to be a species they clearly aren’t judging by their appearance, and gets defensive when told so, calling people racist

gets themselves into trouble by trying to seduce nymphs when drunk. also an alcoholic

is cursed to never remember any names—has forgotten their real name a long time ago so no one can ever have that power over them

introduces themselves with a different name every time they meet someone

heavily worships an evil trickster god

ominously refers to themselves in third person

doesn‘t walk but jumps from roof to roof instead

predicts the future but is always horribly wrong

challenges people to a quest all the time

seems to know every person in the entire kingdom

seems to be enemies with every person in the entire kingdom

spends a lot of time in dimly-lit taverns seeking opponents for a strange board game

likes to look for bizarre monsters deep in the forest

talks to their dagger

talks too much during sword fights

gets involved in sword fights but only ever carries a paper sword with them

makes up crazy and hardly believable stories when asked about their past to hide their guilt

collects a particular type of item that can only be found on adventurous quests to dangerous places

has large horns on their head despite their species having no such thing, refuses to tell anyone why

never seen eating

never seen sleeping

takes every time anyone mentions something being hard or dangerous to do as a challenge to try it

wears an eyepatch solely for the looks of it

collects dangerous enchanted jewellery

random hissing

an excellent storyteller, like unnaturally excellent

politically involved and fights for giants‘ rights

has a finger that‘s mysteriously shorter than the others

is best friends with a demon

is nocturnal but loves sunlight

pretends to be completely resistant to pain

always sneaking around

has a tattoo that keeps dis- and reappearing

enchants people with their acting

has a wooden prosthesis

doesn‘t wear shoes

changes eye colour every day

wears gloves all the time and tells people it‘s for their safety

hears the trees talk to them

believes the apocalypse is near

pretends to be immortal

breaks into people‘s homes to steal food. no jewellery. only food

pins pressed flowers to their walls

believes that flowers grant wishes

has random visions of other people‘s pasts that aren‘t necessarily true but always get them into trouble

strongly believes in reincarnation

talks in a different accent every day

is convinced they are cursed

sees every minor conflict as a challenge to a sword fight

fights their battles using nothing but darts

is an archer and also blind or missing an arm

accidentally stabs themselves. a lot.

always carrying poison around „just in case“

is at fault for the fall of a mighty god

knows all about mythology

always up to date regarding drama and gossip between the gods

immediately scared they’re about to be cursed whenever someone raises their voice

still mourns over the death of a friend

whatever they touch breaks instantly

chews on their wand (definitely not a good idea)

always wears their hair tied up into a bun, is longer than rapunzel‘s when worn loose

brags they were good at picking locks but actually just hit it really hard until it breaks

accidental shapeshifting

still waiting for an ominous prophecy to foretell their destiny

makes weird/seemingly unnecessary bargains with strangers

has something slightly off about their appearance that makes people stop in their tracks to watch them

unhealthy obsession with cloaks

is a great fan of wizards. collects wands and hats like action figures

horses don‘t like them, they ride a wolf instead

sings the spells they use

constantly mumbling to themselves or someone others can‘t see

can duplicate themselves but can‘t do math so they‘re always a bit confused

has a leaf sticking to the back of their hand. don‘t ask them why

is a painter, travels very far to obtain a particular kind of paint

sketches their dreams in a book after they come to them at night

always seems to be charged with electricity

freckles on their cheeks dance when laughing or when light hits them

makes up prophecies and tells strangers about them

grows wings when high up due to fear of falling

gets arrested regularly for pranking nature spirits and deities

sneezes when using magic

insomniac, needs a particular spell or magical food/herb to fall asleep

magic makes them fall asleep (when they use it or when others use it nearby)

mixes the weirdest potions all day

can‘t eat spicy food, literally breathes fire

necromancy but only to revive their dead cat

turns the same colour of any food they eat

dreams of becoming a knight

horrible short term memory but can easily recite anything they read two centuries ago

makes their eye colour look white just to mess with people

can‘t remember spells for shit. says them incorrectly which always goes horribly wrong

terrible handwriting. bonus if they’re a messenger who has to send important letters on a daily, causing things to go very wrong

can correctly guess anyone‘s magical power on a scale from 1-10. is stupid enough to point it out aloud, too

wears cloaks that are way too long

carries a fake sword on their hip

carries way more weapons on them than necessary

uses their dagger as a toothpick

plays with dagger when thinking

supernaturally heavy sleeper

gets the different species mixed up a lot

tells everyone how many people they‘ve killed in their life

a die hard fan of a well-known assassin

a die hard fan of shakespeare‘s puck

desperately wants to be abducted by the fae

heavily affected by the phase of the moon

#this list will definitely be updated #but i thought i'd post it #since some might wanna use these #i certainly have already skskskk #writing resources #traits and quirks #characters #character development #worldbuilding #fantasy #top posts

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chiscribbs · 4 years

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PLUS EST EN VOUS Review

(Over a week later, and I’m finally posting this. At least I don’t have to worry about another episode coming out before it’s posted.)

Okay - there’s a lot to cover, so without further ado... Let’s get right into it, shall we?

Things I liked about the finale:

All of the beautiful Cass / Rapunzel scenes!

They were so emotional and beautifully done, it felt like everything that needed to be said was said, and seeing them act like friends again was very cathartic for me. In a lot of ways, Cass & Raps’ relationship reminds me of some of my own (old ones that didn’t end so smoothly, and then newer ones that I can already tell will leave a lasting impression on my life) and seeing them reconcile and talk about how much they meant to each other really warmed my heart. A best friend is an irreplaceable thing, and I love that their interactions showed that. I also really appreciated the “I love you”s, because the world needs more of those between friends. And it also reminded me of Eugene saying the same thing to Lance, in Beyond the Corona Walls.

The awesome Team Awesome content! There was an abundance of it in this episode, and I loved every second of it! Truth be told, I was never a big “Team Awesome” fan until S3 came around. The relationship always felt a tad too one-sided to me, and I just couldn’t see them being particularly close, at least not as close as Varian and Rapunzel. The fandom helped me warm up to the idea a little bit, but this past season definitely sold it for me. Eugene has really matured and become a lot less self-involved since the first time they met. I absolutely love that he’s turned into sort of a cool older brother figure to Varian (in fact, many of their interactions are reminiscent of moments I’ve shared with my own brother) and Var now looks up to him rather than just the “Flynn Rider” persona. The fact that Eugene could tease him about his past mistakes and Varian just turned around and casually joked right back? That made my heart happy.

Speaking of maturing & happy hearts -

I’M SO PROUD OF THIS BOY!!!

I know I say that a lot, but He’s just come so far since S1, or even the beginning of S3! There were a ton of little moments showcasing his growth in this episode. Such as: - Jumping onto the piano to help Raps rally the troops (did anybody think we were going to get pianist Varian? I sure didn’t, but I’m not complaining.) - Stating with certainty that he can rebuild Demanitus’ portal, before even seeing the schematics, and just overall showing more confidence in his abilities. (Quirin looked so proud when he was building the portal...you know, before going all mind-slave and trying to pull the lever.) - Being the first - the FIRST - of the gang to walk into Demanitus’ tomb. This may seem small, but it was such a 180 from Be Very Afraid, where he was nervous and trailing behind Raps the entire time. Now he’s not only joining in on the adventure, he’s taking the lead on occasion! - Rigging Quirin’s helmet with a temporary stun mechanism as a fail-safe for the mind-trap. He seemed hurt and offended when Eugene initially brought up the possibility of his dad being a double-agent, but even so, he listened. He put common sense and the safety of others before his own feelings, and that’s not an easy thing to do. - Firing an explosive concoction straight into the face of an enormous demon monster??? I mean,...heck yeah, boy!! Also - using his past mistakes (i.e. the amber and monster!Ruddiger) and repurposing them towards something good. I could go on, but you get the idea. he’s just come so far and I could not be more proud of his development. And the fact that he went on to become Corona’s Royal Alchemist Engineer was just the cherry on top! YOU DESERVE IT, BOY!!! 👏👏👏

You know who else I’m proud of? Rapunzel. She was never my favorite character in the series (despite being the protagonist,) but this story - and this past season in particular - has really endeared me to her. She’s grown so much, she’s become a strong and wise leader, and I’m proud of her for it. Honestly, I’ve related to her far more this past season than any other. And I don’t know if that’s because she’s older and more mature now, or because her naivete and eager-to-please attitude is all but gone, or because she just felt a lot more real and vulnerable in recent episodes - but I really, truly love her. And I’m happy to see her story reach its completion. (Also - long-haired brunette Raps is my new favorite thing, tbh.)

THIS:

‘Nough said, I think.

The epic new powers and abilities (and return of some old ones)!!! There were so many moments while watching the finale where I was literally just yelling at my sister like “wHOA, DID YOU SEE THAT?! THAT WAS AWESOME!!!” I had no idea that Cass could make ANIMATED WOLF HEADS of the black rocks, that completely blew me away! And then there were those golden rocks that Zhan Tiri manifested, that was so cool! I wonder if the sundrop alone could make those appear, or if you had to have both of the elements to make it work. Also - the Healing Incantation was finally brought back! I knew it would be, eventually, but I’d almost completely forgotten that was a plot point by the time the finale came around. It was good to hear Mandy’s voice saying those familiar, nostalgic words again. And she put so much emotion into it!

Now, onto the less fun stuff...

Things I disliked about the finale:

(Feel free to skip over this section if you’d rather just focus on the positives, I fully understand. I’ll do my best to be fair and only address the things that really stood out to me.)

This subplot went on for far too long:

It was pretty funny for the first few minutes (and I’m sure the animators loved getting to go crazy with the characters’ designs like this,) but after awhile, I was like “is this really what we want over half of our cast to be doing during the BIG FINALE?” I mean, we already had the monkey gag, which I actually thought was a riot. And this one came right in the middle of a pretty climactic moment, so it just seemed kind of out of place. I’ll admit, the snake-hair joke and Lance’s multiple eyes had me rolling, but ultimately, I just felt like this whole bit only served to waste limited time that definitely could have been better utilized.

The portal was too quickly demolished. They could have at least come close to a success with it before it was destroyed, so that it didn’t feel completely useless! I get that they wanted ZT to be defeated by her own power, and I’m down for that, but if the portal’s sole purpose within the story was just to temporarily remove all the secondary characters in limbo so that the mains could do their thing, I can’t really get behind it. Especially seeing as their only Plan B was “throw things at the giant all-powerful octopus monster,” come on, guys. I would have preferred that be a last-resort after several failed attempts at other pre-orchestrated plans. They could have had Varian and Quirin working on repairing the portal while the others distract/attack Zhan Tiri and THEN have her destroy it (purposefully, rather than by some random falling rock.) Or, maybe everyone could have been in on the plan to get the sundrop and moonstone to meet, and then have Raps and Cass are the ones who finally succeed in doing it. I don’t know, I just feel like there was a lot of wasted potential there.

This scene:

I’m going to be perfectly honest, this scene bothered me. For a multitude of reasons:

Firstly; it was a shot-for-shot copy (not a parallel, a copy) of the iconic New Dream moment from the movie, just replacing Eugene with Cass. That wasn't necessary, Cass and Raps have their own unique relationship and their own moments, they don’t need to steal Raps & Eugene’s. This should have remained a New Dream-only thing, in my opinion. (Especially seeing as her parents already stole their gondola bit...I’m mostly joking about that one.)

Secondly; it didn’t make sense? Rapunzel was standing just as close to the blast as Cassandra, yet she wasn’t harmed at all. In fact, she seemed completely unfazed by it. Why was Cass the only one effected? (And we can’t even make an argument that the moonstone shard protected her, because the powers were lost the moment the two fused.) If they needed a brush-with-death scene, why not have ZT hurt Cass? I feel like that would have been a lot more dramatic, especially after manipulating her for an entire season.

And finally; it made every other character’s “death” seem unimportant in comparison. I get that the writers needed Raps to use the Healing Incantation, but, EVERYBODY ELSE WAS ALREADY HALF-DEAD, AT THIS POINT. I’m sorry, but, why wasn’t that incentive enough to use the healing power? Why did we need to have Cass’s near-death on top of everybody else’s? I mean, I would’ve been maybe a little bit more okay with it had Rapunzel mourned everybody’s death and not just Cass’s, and then used the power to save ALL of them at once. But instead, she completely forgot about everyone else until the very last second, which was frustrating. I’m not a fan of plot devices that ignore other characters, especially when the protagonist is supposed to care about them but then just doesn’t even seem to remember that they exist for a hot minute. This felt like the ending of Freebird, only worse because you can’t make the excuse that she was unaware. (Just to be clear, I’m not blaming Rapunzel. I know it wasn’t meant to come across that way, I just feel like it was not well executed.) There are a lot of ways that this could have been done differently. Rapunzel and Cass could have BOTH been devastated about their friends/loved ones, I would have loved to see Cass show genuine concern and remorse towards the OTHER people whom her actions hurt, not just Raps. Or, Rapunzel could have at least landed near Cass so it would’ve made sense for her to notice her first, and then looked around and noticed everybody else before using the healing incantation. At least that way, the other characters wouldn’t have felt so much like a second-thought. I don’t know, I just didn’t appreciate the treatment of the supporting cast in this scene at all. It felt like they were forgotten right up until the very last second.

Cass didn’t get to sing in any of the songs. I was really surprised by this, I figured given how important her role had become, she’d get to sing at least one line (like Lance and Varian did.) But nope. Actually, a good 90% of the music in this episode was sung by Raps, and as much as I love the songs & Mandy’s beautiful voice, I was hoping for the other characters to be a little bit more involved. Especially in the Life After Happily Ever After (Reprise), that would have been a great opportunity to have everybody sing together.

Things I would have liked to see in the finale:

More information about Demanitus and ZT. We got so little! I was expecting this episode to answer all of our questions about that two, but I still have no idea; what their relationship was, where Zhan Tiri came from, why exactly she wanted the power (besides just to have it for herself, I guess), or how they came across the SD and MS in the first place! Like, just a little bit more information would have been nice, the only thing the flashback really gave us was what ZT looked like before spending a few millenia in limbo. (Also - apparently Corona is several thousand years old??? Which, I didn’t know, I was under the impression that it was a fairly new kingdom.)

Closure for this relationship:

This is probably what I was most disappointed by. Honestly, I’m still kind of surprised that this didn’t happen, even just a little bit. Given that Cass was wearing the Cassandrium at the end, we can safely assume that they at least parted on good terms. But the last few exchanges that they had really gave me the impression that we’d be getting some kind of closure before the credits rolled. We were given two whole episodes focusing on the unique bond that these two share (that’s more than we were given for Cass & Eugene,) they were painted as parallels, so it only makes sense to give them a proper wrap-up. In CR, Cass seemed hurt and devastated after realizing that she’d effectively pushed Varian away, it’s clear his friendship meant a lot to her. Not to mention, Var had the best understanding of Cass’s feelings, he could relate to her - especially about her guilt and fear of not being forgiven. But despite all of the build-up & foreshadowing, they didn’t even get an on-screen goodbye? Not a single “thank you” or “I’m sorry”? I realize that the main focus was always on Cass & Raps’ friendship, and I’m totally fine with that. I’m just saying that after all the obvious parallels and time invested in this relationship, it would have been nice to get some closure. I just wish they’d included at least one little dialogue exchange to wrap it up in a satisfactory way, like we got with Cass and Eugene.

Actual pay-off for all the Varian - Demanitus parallels. I think we can all agree that this seemed like it was going somewhere, and then it just...didn’t. He did rebuild the portal, but it turned out to be useless, and outside of that, the similarity was never touched upon. Not by Rapunzel, or Zhan Tiri, not even Xavier made the connection. I mean - this kid is doing at 15/16 what Demanitus did in the latter half of his life. He’s not only following the legendary engineer/inventor’s footsteps, he’s expanding the legacy. If that’s not foreshadowing for something, I don’t know what is! And I do love the fact that he became the Royal Alchemist Engineer, but at the same time, I just feel like there was so much wasted potential in this almost-but-not-quite-subplot.

An actual Brotherhood reunion, without all the mind-trap influence. It would have been so interesting to see them all interacting! I was surprised that, even though Edmund and Quirin were both in the same place for most of the episode, they never really interacted? Outside of mind-controlled Quirin, Hector, and Adira attacking Eugene & Edmund, they didn’t exchange so much as a word. And I get that a lot of that was time restraints, and having to focus on more important plot points (as Edmund said “bigger fish”) but honestly, if they had time to thrown in all that netherworld nonsense, a little Brotherhood interaction doesn’t seem like too big of a favor to ask.

Rapid-fire Opinions:

Favorite song: Through it All

In my opinion, this song is the best group number in the show (not counting the ones only sung by main 3, such With You By My Side or Next Stop Anywhere) It’s not quite as epic as Ready As I’ll Ever Be, but it has an infectious beat and a triumphant melody that I really enjoy. Also, the scene as a whole was so cheerful and fun, and we got Varian, Lance, Kiera, and Catalina all playing various instruments! (Plus more New Dream dancing! ❤ )

Favorite callback to a previous episode: Easy answer, because it comes from (what is still) one of my favorite episodes in the series - the Cassandrium.

Favorite scene: This one’s a little tough, but I did really enjoy the little moment that Eugene and Varian had after Quirin was incapacitated by the helmet.

I also loved the final scene where Cass said goodbye to Rapunzel and they gave each other the biggest, warmest hug I’ve ever seen in animation history (and the prior exchange between her and Eugene was really sweet, as well.)

OH! And how could I forget? That beautiful New Dream proposal. 💜 That was absolutely perfect. The animation, the music, Mandy & Zach’s incredibly heartfelt voice work, just...I loved everything about it.

Most underrated moment: Catalina pushing Kiera out of Zhan Tiri’s way and getting grabbed herself. (Show of hands, who else briefly forgot that she was a werewolf and had a small heart-attack in that moment?)

Theories I had that were proven true:

- Cass leaving Corona to “find her own destiny.” I’d always felt like Cass never really had a dream of her own; she didn’t know who she was, and she was never going to get the answers by staying by Rapunzel’s side. So I had a strong feeling that she would be leaving, but I’m glad to see that it was on good terms.

- Everyone vs Zhan Tiri. Granted, like most people, I was under the impression that Xavier’s “magic and alchemy” statement would be more...relevant? Turns out, we read into that way too much. Which, honestly, is a tiny bit disappointing, but it was still cool to finally see Zhan Tiri at her most powerful.

- Varian becoming Corona’s Royal Alchemist Engineer. This is a theory I’ve had since my early days in the fandom, and I’m glad to see it finally confirmed! My only complaint is that we didn’t get to see Rapunzel bestow the honor upon him, because I would have loved to see that exchange.

Theories that were not proven true, but I still believe:

- Varian (and possibly Quirin) being a descendant of Demanitus. You can pry this one out of my cold, dead hands, there are way too many clues pointing to it. I’m not even sure if Demanitus has any descendants (again, we have very little information on him still) but if he does, Varian’s a prime candidate. His lineage comes from the Dark Kingdom, he’s a genius alchemist/inventor, has a personal connection to both the Sundrop and the Moonstone; honestly, I’m kind of surprised this possibility was never even considered, at least one, in canon.

- Cass will eventually return to Corona. I have no idea when, why, or how, but I truly believe she will. Her spirit may be roaming free at the moment, but the heart always returns home. And - as it stands right now, at least - her heart is still waiting in Corona. In the meantime, though, I’m glad she’s living her best life, seeking out adventure wherever destiny leads her! She deserves it <3

Well, that’s my full Plus Est En Vous/Tangled the Series Finale review! I’d love to hear everybody else’s thoughts on the final episode, as well; how many people were satisfied vs unsatisfied with the ending? What were everyone else’s favorite moments, what else would have been nice to see? Let me know!

Final words: This show and this fandom have meant so much to me, and I’m far from done loving it. I still have many projects in the works to celebrate the show and its completion, but in the meantime - thanks for reading.

And God bless the amazing team that came together to bring us this incredibly beautiful, meaningful, story which will always have a special place in my heart.

#artistnotes #tts #tangled the series #plus est en vous #character analysis #episode analysis #episode review

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 4 years

Text

Other Writing Prompts

This is just a compiled list of prompts I’ve collected from Pinterest and other random places, but don’t particularly fit anywhere or just would only fit into the Marvel or Star Wars fandoms. I have other prompt lists that get more specific or more vague as well. If you want to use one in a request to me, just use the following ‘Character Name and Prompt No. 35 from the Other Prompt list’ for example + some details if you’d like.

I didn’t organize this list by mood since it’s about 200 prompts.

Key:

‘*’ Denotes something that could be used as dialogue.

[*] Denotes a swear word that I removed.

One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying, "you're going to help me settle a bet."

"But what is power?" "Loyalty"

The girl wrote in the journal as fluidly as fish swam in the sea, or birds rode the wind. It was beautiful, how gracefully she crafted her spells.

"You do know that when you wipe my memories, it doesn't actually work, right? One of the perks of being me." The villain froze at the hero's words. They'd just attempted their grand entrance four times in a row, trying to anticipate the hero's response. Blanking their brain when they didn't quite get it perfect. First impressions were important. PR won battles as much as soldiers did. "Don't worry," the hero grinned, looking the villain up and down slowly. "You're doing great. Very impressive." Now they definitely had to die.

The villain prowled closer, gaze intent. "Mm. The last time someone looked at me like that, we didn't get out of bed all weekend. Good times." "Cute bravado, it won't save you." "You're blushing."

"You could be so brilliant if you only turned your mind to creating things instead of destroying them." The hero murmured. They paused to tighten the villain's restraints, before glancing up to catch their eyes. "I've never seen anything like you. You're stunning." It was so earnest that, for once, the villain didn't quite know what to say. The hero wet their lips, practically on their knees. "Just let me help you, please. You'd be a terrible waste to the world rotting."

"Oh, I could just take you apart. See how long that cold, untouchable reputation of yours lasts then. You're trying so hard to pretend you're not even human, but look at that..." The hero pressed a hand above the villain's heart. They both felt it pounding far too clearly. This was not supposed to happen. There was a reason nobody was supposed to get close.

"If you want me," the hero panted, "come and get me." The villain paused, languidly sweeping a hand up and under their chin. "Want you in which way, Darling? Don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed."

You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain; one too strong for them to beat.

Stab options: Slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull out the weapon impaling them while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by a friend/lover.

Hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist that they're fine,

even though they are clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet. And as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they're badly hurt and have been for awhile.

Character A tilting Character B's chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. Character A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by Character B's mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, Character B's heart skips a nervous beat as Character A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained. "Who did this to you?"

"I will deny you death until you beg me for it."

"Hold on you died." "Yeah, well it didn't stick."

As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday. Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has till then.

The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're shivering, bleeding and scared. There's also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they are close to passing out they mumble, "...didn't know where else to go..." Then collapse into the villain's arms.

"I loved the woman you were before. Not this monster."

"I dare you to touch her again."

"By the Gods! You love her, don't you?"

"Come here." "Why?" "Just come here." "No, you're gonna hit me."

"Shh, shh." The villain wiped the tears from the hero's face and pressed a kiss to their forehead. "Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

"Hey, hey, hey. Baby, what's wrong?" The hero shuddered from the dram--startlingly vivid. Of fighting and faces, and the the icy clench of betrayal in their chest already fading into unconsciousness. And yet, they couldn't stop crying. Shoulders shaking, uncontrollable sobbing. The villain gathered them close, tucking the hero's head against their chest and making safe, soothing sounds. "Bad dream, huh? It's alright, nothing will touch you while I have you."

"Nobody touches you other than me, do you understand?" The hero looked at the other villain, dead on the floor. Dead before they even touched them. And they hated themselves for the flicker of gratitude, of feeling protected, when everything was all wrong and there was nothing safe in this game at all. Their villain was not kind. Only possessive. "Can we go home?" The villain liked it when they called it home.

They hadn't wanted this. Of course, they'd wanted the hero to stop fighting them. Wanted them broken, despondent, but... The person staring blankly at the walls, terrified of their own power, wasn't what they wanted. "Darling, you're beautiful. You don't need to be scared with me, I promise you that. Look--try and attack me and I promise I can stop you. You're safe with me. You couldn't hurt me if you tried. I'm just like you."

"You killed someone. Do you really think they're ever going to want you back?" The hero looked up at the villain, desperate, shattered. "I'll always want you, even if they don't." The villain said. "I understand what it's like. It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"You're not as evil as people think you are." "No, I'm much worse."

"I was a King!" He bellowed, spitting at the girl's feet. She smiled at him, her eyes sad and yet full of mischief. "And I was a god."

He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give. "Don't bother," a voice said." He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and wrists. "I already tried."

"Don't ever try to get inside my head," he snarled, slamming me against the wall. For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists. Finally, his eyes softened. "It's too dark for you."

"You think you have a choice, and that's sweet and all, but it's time you take up the knife and do what you were made to do."

"You-you are--" "Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented--" "Dangerous."

"Sorry, I have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap. I'll call you back when I've convinced him that a cold doesn't mean he's dying."

The villain pressed their lips to the hero's, silencing their sobbing pleas. "Shh." The villain murmured, angling their knife at the hero's throat. "It's better this way."

He was leaning against the wall, trying to support his own body weight, and his gasps of pain were like music to her ears.

"You just killed five men, what do you have to say for yourself?" "Oops?"

For a second, I thought she could actually see me.

Every person on the planet is born with a tattoo on each arm. One matches your soulmate, and one matches your worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which. You do, because they are both the same.

In a superhero-supervillain story, you're the hero's love interest, and as such, in classic use-their-loved-ones-against-them fashion, the villain keeps kidnapping you as leverage against the hero. However, an unfortunate complication has arisen; having spent so much time with the villain, you begin to realize you're falling in love with them.

You never kill the spiders in your home. You just whisper; "Today you, tomorrow me." When you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back.

"I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing!" "Is that so?" His tone was amused, which irritated me more. "Yep. Nothing." He took one towards me with a smirk on his face. I swallowed, refusing to back up. He laughed at me discomfort. "Relax, Princess. I am not going to jump on you." That relieved me somewhat, until he added, "not until you ask me to anyways."

The hero shows up at the villain's house, hurt, broken and defeated. But it wasn't the villain and they are extremely angry that someone hurt their hero.

The phone rings. The voice on the other end says "we need you again." Then hangs up.

"What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?" "Those are children. That's a school."

Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent, but more effective fashion.

"You have to go, you have to run away!" "Run from who?" "From me."

"Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!"

Two people running away from a blind, arranged marriage, in which one is supposed to marry the other, meet on the road by coincidence and fall in love with each other.

*Not every prince is charming

When people are born, they are assigned a soulmate. They have an original song in their head that only them and their soulmate know. A person just broke into your house and you're pretty sure they are here to kill you. They're humming your song under their breath.

"What? Do you think I enjoy this? This infatuation of mine? This horrible need to know you are okay?" To realize you can hurt me in a way no one for the past thousand years has been able to?" "Well, stop it then! If caring about me is such a nuisance to you, stop it! It doesn't do much for either one of us." "I CAN'T. That's what kills me. The fact that you can even ask that of me shows how ignorant you are about the power you have over me."

"I want to take a shower, so you should probably join me. It'll save water."

"It's midnight! Where the hell were you?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I might have slept with your [clothing article] when you were gone."

"No one has to know about us, I know this could ruin you."

"Just pretend to be my date."

"You should sleep." "I'm not human, therefore, I do not require sleep."

"You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? NO. The answer is NO."

"You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead."

"Wait, something doesn't feel right."

"Did you hear that?"

"Stay here and don't move. I'll be right back."

"You told me you were okay! You promised!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"How long have you been covering this?"

"You've been trying to deal with this yourself?"

"We could have prevented this!"

"If you didn't want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right!"

"You didn't think it was that bad? Are you looking at it?"

"You are not fine!"

"You look really cute in that sweater."

"No, like... It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

"You know I hear you talking, but I still don't have my coffee."

"Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It's not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying tha someone was made for you. It's... It's the love. It's too strong, and you can't fight it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried... But I'm always going to love you. And I need you to know that."

"You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?" "Because it's not just one life... It's yours."

"This might sound selfish, but I don't care about the world. I only care about you."

"I still believe there is a good person in you."

"It was necessary."

"Did you think I really cared about you?"

"This was my plan all along."

"There was no other way."

"How cute. Struggle all you want, you won't be leaving this place."

"This is what you get from trusting me."

"It's too late to go back."

"I'm sorry this had to go down like this."

"That's right, I lied."

"It's all for a good cause."

"You were so stupid. You should have known."

"Just so you know... I don't regret anything."

"Shame. I kind of liked you."

"This is my responsibility."

"You will no longer love me if you see who I truly am."

"I'm a monster." "No, you're not."

"You'd better put that knife down."

"But I did all of this for you?" "I didn't want you to kill anyone."

Person A wins a big stuffed animal for Person B at an amusement park and offers to carry it for them. Person B says they'll carry it themselves and carries it around smugly.

While on a date, Person A very shyly touches Person B's hand and Person B reassuringly (and tightly) holds Person A's hand.

You press your ear against the wall, just in time to hear the scream.

AU where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo. Every time you fall in love, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. (i.e a new tattoo appearing on a celebrity's body in new photos and a very lucky fan (who'd just met them), realizing that it's their tattoo.)

He/She kissed his/her brow as the world around them burned. "See you in the next life, my love." He/She whispered.

"Is everything supposed to go dark?"

"You'd better not die on me."

"They just got a lucky shot."

"Next time, don't call me over only to find you in a pool of your own blood!"

"You need to keep pressure on it."

When a character doesn't realize they've been shot or whatever and their hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they're just staring at it like WTF is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them.

A character that knows they've been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

Or the character who doesn't realize they've been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it's wet and oh no.

"Pull the trigger. PULL IT!" He screamed as he took the gun being held in his enemy's hand and pressed it against his own stomach. "I can't!" His enemy screamed. "I can't kill you!"

"You were more fun when we were kids," the villain sighed. "You worshiped me then. It was so cute." "When we were kids, you weren't such a colossal prick." The villain laughed and traced the weapon along their cheek. "Now, you know that's not true. You changed. Not me." The laugh dropped, to something more contemplative, softer, and yet no kinder. "Why did you have to?"

"Isn't that what people do?" The villain asked softly. "Learn to love each other? Could you not learn to love me? You-you who seem to have such a heart to love the world and everything in it?" The hero turned their gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger tugging at them in equal measure. "I would not be unkind to you," the villain persisted. Cupping the hero's face, thumbs stroking their jaw. "I would never." "Kidnapping people is unkind." The villain's grip tightened. "Making people fall in love with you and refusing to love them back is unkind." Oh, hell no. The hero knocked their hands away, expression ablaze with rage that they even dared say that. Their heart slammed, anger overtaking pity, teeth bared in a snarl. "I will never love you. Never."

"This isn't the way to make people love you!" "Love?" The villain laughed at that, fondly even, as they looked down at the hero kneeling before them, heat in their eyes. "My sweet thing, this isn't about love."

"All that time locked away, and not a note from you. No visits, no letters, nothing." The villain trailed their fingers along the hero's sides, relishing the sight of them all chained up for them. "You're lucky I'm nicer and won't just leave you here to rot, inmate." The hero snarled at them, making an indignant noise. "Aggressive behavior, now that would be a shot."

"I enjoyed your visits." The villain said, "but it's just not the same with a thick glass wall between us. I know you felt the same way." They didn't look at the hero, making cooing sounds at the hero's child in their lap. The hero's mind raced, desperately trying to think of some way to fix this. To calculate how long it would be before back up came. The very sight of the villain holding onto their baby left them sick with dread, even more so as the child gurgled and laughed. "You never told me about this little one, no they didn't, no they didn't." They smothered a kiss to the child's forehead. "They look like me."

"Shh, shh." the antagonist settled themselves comfortably on the protagonist's lap, looping their arms around them. One hand cupped the back of their head and stroked soothing fingers through the protagonist's hair, guiding their head to rest on the antagonist's shoulder. "It's alright, calm down..." The protagonist's wrists strained against the chains binding their limbs to the chair, heart feeling like it might jack-knife out of their chest, nerve-endings jangling. "Just match your breathing with mine." The antagonist continued, concerned. "We both know I'm going to hurt you regardless so there's really no point in having a panic attack about it. Come on, deep breaths. No

need to cry now, that's good. You can do it." They continued to make soothing sounds, crowning the protagonist's head with kisses.

"I really thought you could save me." The hero cradled the villain close, for now, too many things reeling through their head. "Yeah, so did I."

"You said if I did this, that we'd be done." The antagonist smiled, brushing the protagonist's hair back from their forehead. "You must have known that would never happen. Look at what a great team we make--we're unstoppable!" Their smile softened and the protagonist hated that it still made their stomach flip. "You're incredible!" "Incredibly done." "If I let you go, you'll die. The world can't maintain you the way I can."

"You were everything to me." And now, this. Betrayal and longing, relief at life and despair at monstrosity, sunk like a fish hook in their chest. Painful, inescapable. "How could you?" The antagonist's brow furrowed. They reached out a hand, gently catching the protagonist's tears on their fingertips. "You say that as if we've met before." The protagonist's heart dropped out. "What? You don't remember me?" The antagonist continued to stare at the tears for a moment before their hand clenched to a fist. They nodded to their guards. The protagonist struggled as the security seized hold of them again, dragging them up and backwards. Their desperation pitched. They grew sure. "You don't remember, do you? What's the last thing you remember?" "Oh, and gag them," the antagonist said, looking away. "They're boring me." "[NAME]--" the guards cut them off. The antagonist didn't look at them once as they were hauled out of the room.

They tried again, and again, and again. Each time, they were deftly deflected, tossed aside, pinned, knocked back as if their attacks and all their training was nothing. The villain was good. They tried for over an hour, ears ringing, nose bleeding, ribs cracked, fingers broken, until they were too exhausted to put any strength into a punch and the last lunge ended up more with them sobbing and shaking in frustration against the villain's chest. The villain caught their wrists firmly and twisted them into a more secure hold. They manhandled the protagonist, stumbling in front of the mirror so they could get a good look at just how pitifully outmatched they looked. "This is what you wanted? I'm sure your parents would be delighted to see this."

"Teach me." "What?" The villain started. "Teach me how to fight like you." It was the most incredible thing they'd ever seen. "...You want me to teach you how to kill me?" The villain let go and let them crumple to the floor. "[*]. I need a drink to deal with you."

"I said that's enough now." The villain caught hold of the hero's wrists as they tried to keep fighting, tossing their weapon aside before drawing them close. Arms wrapping around them in an embrace that might have been comforting if it didn't have the unyielding restraint of shackles. "There we go, easy now." You've been hurt enough for one day." Thrashing against the hold did nothing but exhaust the hero and eventually they sagged. They sank together to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rocking slightly. 'You hurt me,' they wanted to scream. 'This is your fault.' "Shh," the villain murmured--warned, they didn't even know anymore. "It's enough. You've done more than enough, you'e fought so bravely, but just listen to me. There's no shame in surrendering and living another day, right?"

The villain was curled up in their bed. Fast asleep, in their bed. No broken windows, no broken locks--just there. A bolt of rage shot through the hero before they got a better look at them and... Oh wow. They let them sleep, Tucked over another blanket and went into the kitchen and made food, something warm to drink and fished out some painkillers. Their eyes flickered over when the villain made a clammy appearance. "Sit down," they ordered. "You're not going anywhere until I've taken a look at your wounds." The villain sat, huddled up in one of the hero's old hoodies. "You're not interrogating me. Or angry." "Oh, I'm furious. But shockingly enough for once not at you. If I ask you what happened, you're going to run aren't you?" The villain didn't deny it. This was different, somehow.

"I loved you at your darkest."

The fighter frowned when I stepped into the ring, his stance slackening a little as he took in the sight of me. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they grew rowdy, waiting for the fight to start. But he said, in a low growl of a voice, "I don't fight girls." My lip curled as I replied, "too bad, because I fight boys." And knocked his legs out from under him.

"You took a bullet for me." The villain stared at them, numbly almost, as the protagonist gasped for breath that didn't want to come down. "That was stupid of you." They wished they had some excuse, some clever plan, but it had simply been instinct. They wished they had some witty comment, but it hurt too much to think. The villain stepped closer, standing over them. Watching them pant, propped weakly on one elbow, the other hand clamped to their side. "I wish you hadn't done that," the villain said. "So do I, [*]." They squeezed their eyes shut. They snapped open at the touch of hands, and the antagonist's face was right there. Close. "Are you scared? Do you want me to make it quick for you?" [*]. Really?

"You can't just keep me!" "You'd prefer I fight you and your friends?" The villain returned. "I wouldn't. And you are an excellent piece of peace-keeping leverage. A noble cause. I would have imagined you'd be all aboard.

"Don't do this," the antagonist entreated, anguished, wary. "You don't have to do this." The protagonist stared back, heart drumming in their ears, a dozen longings swelling beneath their tongue. "I don't want to. You're all I ever wanted." It hurt to, finally, admit it aloud and the antagonist's breath hitched. "But this is--this is wrong. Can you really not see that?" "Loving you can never be wrong." Their chest ached. "The things you do for love can."

"Not what you expected?" The villain smiled, frosty. "I had plans other than you too. I suppose we'll both have to make do." The hero drew back, wide-eyed, because no. This was not what they'd expected at all. A little awkwardness, a little chill, not a dead body on the bedroom floor. "What are you?"

"Don't worry." The villain caressed their partner's cheek, down the oh-so-vulnerable line of the hero's throat. "I won't hurt you. Suspicion always turns to the spouse first in these things." "I'll tell." "And then where would that leave you? Like it or not love. I'm all that you have in the world now. We need to look after each other."

When someone's heart breaks, so does a piece of our world; this creatures fissures,

valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell the story behind the Grand Canyon.

"You're such a complete disaster." Groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

"Fix it." "I can't." The protagonist dropped to their knees, a sick feeling curdling in the pit of their belly. "Please--see, I'm begging and everything. Fix it." They swallowed hard. "Please." Their voice cracked. "I can't." The antagonist said. They tugged one hand through their hair, jerking the other in a gesture for the protagonist to get up. "I'm not saying it to spite you, I literally can't. This is beyond my power. I'm sorry." The protagonist stared at them in numb disbelief.

"Hand over the girl." "Not going to happen."

"Does it hurt?" The hero asked carefully, looking at the huge scar that trailed from the other person's shoulder, down their chest to their stomach. The scar was pale in colour and bumpy; raised above the skin ever-so-slightly. The other person looked away, blinking fast. "It did. Years ago, when I first received it." "I can't believe someone could do this to you," the hero whispered. That got the other's attention, their head snapping towards the hero. "You did this. YOU did this to me and you don't even remember." They hissed.

"You need to eat something." The hero scowled, wrapping both arms around their grumbling stomach. "You need to mind your own business." The villain stepped forward slowly, arms held out in front of them, palms up. "You fainted on me last week, and I can hear how hungry you are. If you won't take my money, at least let me buy you some food. You help everyone, let someone help you for once. Don't let your pride stop you from taking the help you need to continue saving lives." The villain smiled crookedly. "To continue stopping me."

"Your city is in ruins. You are--" The villain stopped, gloves half off, and raised an eyebrow. "You're wrapped in my cape." Swaddled in the thick fabric, only the hero's face was visible, their expression trapped between a scowl and a pout. "It's cold down here, and you left it in reach. If you weren't too tight to heat your lair while keeping me prisoner down here, I wouldn't have had to resort to thievery." "You look adorable," the villain said, forcing a sneer into their voice. Because they did. They looked adorable and warm and perfect.

Character B bleeding heavily while Character A tries to staunch the blood, but Character B is more concerned about the fact that stoic Character A is sobbing and panicking.

When help is a few hours away and Character B has to stay awake, Character A rambles loudly about random stuff, trying not to break down and cry and to keep them awake.

"Show me your scars," he said. "But... Why?" She asked quizzically. "I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn't there," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You go ahead, I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

"Don't talk to me. It's 6 AM and I haven't had coffee yet, so anything I do or say cannot

be held against me."

"Dude, that jacket is mine, give it back."

"YOU USED MY TOWEL?!"

"Where is he?" "My lady...." "Answer me."

"Wait, when did I take off my clothes?"

"I"m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

"I'm not here, actually, this is a projection from.... [planet].... I moved there recently."

"You have no idea how to make toast?!"

"I haven't showered in four days."

"You're more zombie than human."

"Fix her." "No." "Because you can't or you don't want to?" "Because she'll break again. And you'll be back here, on my doorstep, begging me once more to fix something that wasn't meant to be fixed." "So you don't want to?" The healer's eyes were cold. "No."

"You made me love you." The hero said. They stared out of the window, quietly, watching the rain spit down across the streets. The villain froze in the doorway, studying them, the cup of love-potion spiked tea still cradled in their hand. "I've known for weeks," the hero continued, idly almost. They didn't glance over. "It's obvious. Too sweet in the tea." "You're still drinking it." "I wanted to see what you would do. Waited." The villain swallowed at that. They hadn't done anything--aside from give the tea. Perhaps that was the most damning thing of all.

"She's crying, what do I do?" "Go comfort her." "How do I do that?" "Start with hugs." "With what?"

"I always knew I'd take a bullet for you," I say as pain ebbs through my chest. He/She crouches beside me, clutching at my shirt. Sobs echo from him/her as my lids grow heavy from the weight. "And I always knew you wouldn't take one for me." I whisper and shut my eyes.

First she realized she was pregnant, then she realized her baby would only be half human.

An all female crew is picked for the first [planet] mission. They all come back pregnant.

Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the hero finds them and takes them back with them, taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesn't say anything because the hero is being so nice to them and nobody has been that nice to them in so long and they don't want it to end and they're maybe getting fond of the hero, but don't tell anyone. But eventually something happens and the hero is in trouble and they're trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they're an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themselves and they've grown to like them and don't want them to get hurt, but the villain just pushes past them towards whatever is trying to hurt the hero and just goes guns blazing and destroys them.

"I wish I had a camera."

The shackles grazed her wrists as she changed positions in an attempt to get comfortable.

You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise.

You are fighting in a war when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off of you.

The rain came down in heavy sheets. He pulled his soaked [type of hat] down to protect his eyes and moved forward. Where was she? Would he find her in time? A dark shape against the bridge railway caught his eye when the lightning flashed. He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He couldn't tell for the rain if she was crying or not, droplets streamed down her face. Her mouth opened to let out a cry, but when she saw it was him, she pleaded with her eyes. He only nodded and put his arm around her. He'd protect her.

My head pounded as the toxin flooded my veins, but when I looked at her I could tell what it was doing to her was much worse.

A woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She's unaware that she's actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who's fallen for her and is certain that this time he'll get it right.

"What have you been doing? Actually, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

"You're hurt!" He pulled the arrow out of his chest. "Oh, that's nothing." She stared at him. She'd thought she'd seen the arrow pierce his heart. How was he even alive? He laughed. "Don't worry, dear. It takes more than one little arrow to kill me." She was pretty sure she'd seen his eyes glimmer for a second.

"It's 2 AM. I think that's enough of that."

"Watch, this is the best part!"

"Why are you doing this?!" The villain grinned, their malice as tangible as the ground beneath the hero's feet. "Because you fell in love. And you needed to learn that love won't save you when there's a gun to your head."

It's not like she meant to trip and spill coffee all over him. It was just the way of her people.

The villain gently lifted the hero's chin with a fingertip. "Don't you see? We're the same, you and I." The hero narrowed their eyes and smacked the villain's hand away. "You and I will never be the same. I'll make sure of it." The villain grabbed the hero's wrists in an iron grip before they even knew it was moving. "Darling," the villain chuckled, "you don't have a choice."

The villain snarled, "you will find the moment you hurt them is the moment I tear out your heart and shatter your bones. If you dare destroy them as you have threatened, then they'll find nothing left of you."

"You're not allowed to die, dammit!" The villain's voice quivered, threatening to break as they shook the hero's limp shoulders. "I promised myself you wouldn't die here. I promised you I'd get us both out of this. Dammit, I promised!"

The villain's breaths were shallow and panicked as they laid the hero on the ground, blood staining both their hands. "Damn it," the villain muttered as they ripped a piece off their shirt and pressed it flush with the hero's ribcage. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Didn't want you to think I was weak," the hero mumbled, their face an already alarming shade of white. The villain grimaced, tears blurring their vision. "Well, I'm afraid you're about to witness first hand just how weak I am."

"The world is ruthless, unforgiving. I came to realize that long ago when my wife was

stolen from me." She lifted her hood to reveal her face. "She wasn't stolen. She left."

The villain shook their head. "What a pity..." "Let me go!" Begged the protagonist again. "Please," she sobbed. "Please. "You could have been Queen. It's a pity you chose this path instead." The villain lifted their dagger.

"I"m the daughter of a King who forgot my name."

"Go to him. He waits for you."

*He became King because he wanted to marry you.

One night, a dark King appeared and offered me his hand, his heart, and his Kingdom.

Arranged marriage AU where I am the Prince/Princess who sneaked out to a tavern and while I was there I got into a fist fight with another patron. Fast forward to the next day where I am meeting the person who has been engaged to me since birth and oh wow your eye looks horrible, what did I do.

Your father is forcing you to marry someone you've never met. The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Halfway down, you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over.

"If a god falls in love with you, you can never really die."

Person A and Person B are in the kitchen. Person A is short, while Person B is slightly taller. Person A: *Struggles to retrieve items from top shelf* Person B: "Do you need me to get it for you?" Person A: *Gasps* "How dare you insult the vertically challenged!" Person B: *Laughs* "Okay then..." Person A: (Moments later) *Defeated sigh* "Help meee....."

Person A: *Completely serious* "I have to get something off my chest." Person B: *Fingers crossed* "I hope it's your shirt, please."

Person A noticeably disheveled as they enter the room. "Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff." Person B, also disheveled and grinning smugly enters the room after. "I'm stuff."

The villain smiled, watching the anguish on the hero's face as their so-called friends handed them over. "I guess," the villain sighed. "You're nobody's first priority." They reached out, pulling the hero closer by their restraints. "Except mine, of course. Don't worry. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you." The hero shivered, turning their head away.

"I'm all yours," the hero held up their hands. "Just leave them out of it. This is just you and me, right?"

The villain panted for breath, hands bloody--a little dazed and starting to shake. "They were going to hurt you. I-I panicked. I know it's bad that I--" "Shh." The hero held out an arm and the villain crumpled against them. "It's alright. You were only trying to protect me, weren't you?" The villain nodded. "Then I forgive you, it's okay. But you know there are going to be people who don't see it my way, who wouldn't understand like I do." "But you can make that go away. You can do anything." The villain said. It took everything the villain had not to shiver with delight.

"There," the villain carded their fingers through the hero's hair. "Isn't it better to feel clean?" No more blood or grime or gore on battered skin. Instead, fluffy towels, steaming water, soothing scents and oils which soothed all aches and pains. "It would

feel even better if you weren't in the room. Bit creepy, that." "You know you can't be trusted not to abuse my hospitality."

"Stop it." The command, the quiet authority cut straight through to the villain's brain. "You're overthinking," their sidekick said. "You know what you get like when you start overthinking. Come here." The villain moved over thoughtlessly. Their sidekick guided them gently down onto their knees, taking the villain's head in their hands. Their fingers massaged soothing circles and the villain's eyes fluttered closed. "That's right," their sidekick murmured. Good. Just focus on me. Take some deep breaths."

"You are so terrified that people will never love you, that they'll leave you," the protagonist murmured. "That you would never give them the chance to do either." The antagonist stilled in the doorway, just for a beat. The protagonist looked at them, heart seized in their mouth. "That's not love, you know. Love necessitates choice." "Just as well then," the antagonist replied. "That I'm not looking to give someone the chance to love me. Sleep tight." The door slammed shut behind them.

"I miss you." "You miss an illusion." But the villain paused all the same, hand rising as if about to touch. Faltering. Their hand dropped. They steeled themselves. "Take them away." Cold.

*And mighty we became.

"That has got to be the lamest pick up line in existence." "Don't worry that's just Plan A." "So what's Plan B?" "To take you hostage."

"I'm fine," the antagonist said. "Okay." "I'm fine." They'd just said that, and the protagonist was starting to look concerned. "Just fine. Everything's going to be fine." Oh wow, they couldn't stop saying it, couldn't stop gabbling it, couldn't breathe over it, choking on that word. Fine, fine, fine, always perfectly fine.

The villains lungs strained for air as the hero slammed them up against the wall, face inches away. Fear licked up their spine. "You're sorry?" The hero spat. "Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what you're going to be for what you've done. You don't get to cry over your guilt. You're not the one who got hurt."

In the heat of the moment, whether this is a fight, chase, or the characters are under gunfire; they escape and get to cover. However all is not well when Character A turns to see Character B leaning heavily against a wall, clutching at their side. Character B slowly looks up and shows a blood covered hand before saying, "so. Slight problem," before collapsing onto the floor.

"I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

Person B dancing around their home, headphones in, eyes closed, singing as loudly as they please to their favourite song while Person A stands in the doorway watching their oblivious partner with a loving smile on their face.

Person A: "How can someone say Person B is evil? They're the most precious soft little soul." Person B: *Wiping blood off their face* "YEAH, I'M ADORABLE!"

Person A walked into the house, threw their bag on a chair, and laid down on the carpet with an air of defeat. Person B walked in a few hours later, saw Person A on the ground and set to work. They picked up a few blankets and pillows. Then Person B walked

over to Person A, laid everything out, then proceeded to lay down with Person A. Person A slowly curled up to Person B and fell into a restful sleep. Five hours later, they're still there. Just soaking in each other's presence.

Person A was sitting up in bed, headphones on and staring intensely at their Ipad screen, which flickered brightly in the dim room. Person B rolled over and slowly sat up, glancing at the clock and seeing it was well past 2 AM. Person B leaned up against Person A, with their eyes still closed and asked why Person A was still up. Person A popped out an earbud and quickly *states reason* and then turned their attention back to the screen. Person B yawned loudly, grabbed the device and tossed it off the bed. Right before Person A could protest, Person B curled an arm around them and forced Person A to lay down. Person A fell asleep within minutes, tucked securely in Person B's arms.

Imagine your OTP getting ready for bed and Person A is sitting on the bed. Person B tries to sneak up on them with a hug or a kiss, but Person A has quick reflexes and thinks they're being attacked. So they accidentally hit Person B in the face and they fall back onto the bed. Person A quickly realizes who it was then, and keeps saying sorry really fast and hugs them and kisses where it hurts.

Imagine Person A walking into the kitchen, only to find Person B in tears. Person A immediately rushes over to Person B's side, fretting over them, consoling and asking what happened. Surprised, Person B explains they were simply cutting onions.

Person A is baking cookies and has to split their attention between the timer and fighting off Person B, who keeps trying to steal cookie dough from the bowl.

Imagine your OTP making out on a couch, but then one of them accidentally rolls off and the other one is either frantically asking if they're okay, or laughing their head off.

Imagine your OTP ice skating and one of them falls so the other tries to help them up, but they lose their balance and fall on top of the other.

What if he held you tightly in his arms as you lay on his chest, drifting into sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat. Feeling the slight vibration of his lungs as he hummed softly. His hands brushing lightly in your hair as his lips pressed against the top of your head, but stayed there for awhile. Then he let out a faint sigh, taking his lips away, seeming to be deep in thought.

You shift around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. No success. You hear your boyfriend stretching. "Can't sleep, my love?" He asks, letting out a sleepy sigh. "Come here," he whispers. You move over to him and he snakes an arm around your waist and wraps his leg around yours as you rest your head on his bare chest.

As you lay in bed alone, struggling with reaching sleep, you toss and turn before huffing out in annoyance at still being awake. A small fraction of light creeps into your room until the door closes and the edge of your bed dips down underneath his weight. He carefully climbs under the covers, reaching an arm out for you, pulling you closer to his body, your back to his front. "You can sleep now, love. I'm home. I love you." He gently whispers in your ear, lightly kissing your cheek and then laying his head on the pillow next to you, leading you to fall into a dream-filled sleep of your boy being back home.

#writing #writing prompts #writing prompt list #prompts #other writing prompts #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #star wars

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happyhearthooligan · 4 years

Text

Master List Oct Edition 2019

(2/2)

This half contains the Yandere Month Special, Classic Undertale headcanons, Multiple AU asks, other headcanons that didn’t quite fit the first half, and franstastic-ideas’ other posts

The first half contains AU-centric headcanons excluding Classic Undertale

franstastic-ideas - October Content (Continued)

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

Yandere Month

Oct 3

Frisk is on an ambassador trip?

Mafia Yandere hcs on both our sweet Frans ♡

Yandere King Sans and his Lady Ambassador!

Cryptozoologist Frans but… yandere~

More yandere for me please! have you heard of Echofell?

What about Murder Frans (Murder Sans x Frisk)

Ink x Draw? (InkSans x InkFrisk) but yandere???

Yandere Error x Core?

Horrortale brothers in the least to most nuttiest yandere spectrum?

These are my questions about the yandere skeletons…

Oct 4

Yandere version of the Convergence AU?

Any headcanons for yandere Storyshift bros?

Yandere lamia??

Oct 6 - How about a yandere Frister?

Oct 9

Haven’t really seen much yandere!G!Sans. Could you do that?

Yandere Headcanons on Nightmare and Dream?

If a female touched his lady as a platonic gesture? (Yandere!G)

If G!Frisk somehow found out how Yandere G can be

Oct 10 - Yandere Outertale?

Oct 22

Yandere cuddles with the Swap brothers

What would Yandere Dance be like

Oct 23

So what about a yandere Dusttale story

What would Yandere WraithTale Sans do with Rosalyn

Killing is extremely rare and saved for severe occasions

Oct 24 - If Chara escaped and Papyrus was unable to find her?

Oct 27 - "He wouldn’t sleep until she was found"

Classic Undertale

Oct 1

Imagine Sans never confessing

Frisk & Chara hear a lot of puns and knock-knock jokes from Toriel

Why does UT Chara hate humanity?

Does Frisk or Chara have a backstory

Thoughts on Asgore and Toriel coming back together

Oct 2 - Canon fact or a fan theory, Frisk fell 100 years, after Chara

Oct 3

Some Papyrus x Chara x Asriel hcs

Chasriel and Frans double date?

Oct 4

Frisk and Sans reconcile after getting into an argument?

How about some Gaster x Frisk x Sans hijinks?

Accidentally ripping your pants in front of your S/O

Oct 5

Other than losing Frisk, what does Sans fear?

Is Chara a tsundere?

Oct 6 - Why did UT Frisk climb the mountain?

Oct 8 - Sans’s Reaction to Papara In a Nutshell

Oct 9 - If Frisk did a genocide run and she had to kill Sans?

Oct 10

Frisk can flirt with Goat Mom and canonically flirts with Papyrus

Why Sans was creeping around before introducing himself?

Oct 11 - What are Frisk and Sans’ favorite seasons

Oct 12

UT Frisk as someone who flirts with pretty much everyone

Is UT Sans was a bit more eccentric and wild about his work?

Would Pap ask Chara about letting him in the Royal Guard?

Oct 14

What does Papyrus think of Grillby himself?

Do the Charas like to play with their Asriel's ears?

Asriel will state that Chara "wasn't the greatest person’

How do you think Asriel and Papyrus feel about each other overall?

"Prone to random bouts of stupidity when Chara is involved."

"And they have to share". Do you mean Chara or that one braincell?

When Asriel and Papyrus are competing, how does Chara react?

Chara's reaction to Sans’ secretly trolling Pap online would be?

Oct 21 - Do the skeletons have peeves that their human lover does?

Oct 22

How would Gaster and Sans respond to a third rival

How Frisk/Chara felt about Alphys’ crush on Toriel and Asgore?

Undertale cuddles? o3o I want more of those!

How you think Frans would spend a rainy day

How about surprise kisses? Chara initiating their first kiss?

Would Chara be the one to tell Papyrus about his cooking?

Has Sans or Papyrus seen natural disasters while on the surface?

Would Chara tell Pap Undyne’s feelings of him and the Royal Guard

Oct 23

Can we have some of that Frister cuddles?

What would Sans and Mettaton's relationship be?

In Undyne and Alphys' wedding. Frisk caught the bouquet!

Frisk/Chara receive X-rays. How do their boyfriends see it?

Papyrus with a human anatomy book of undeniable proof

Oct 26 - If Frisk put herself on a near death state to save someone?

Oct 27 - Paps has told a skele-ton of puns in the game

Oct 28

"Papyrus thinks his jokes are better than Sans’s." Does Sans agree?

Do you think that Chara met Dr. Gaster?

Perhaps Sans and Flowey aren’t the only ones aware of the resets

How do you think Chara behaved at first towards the Dreemurrs?

Papyrus' reaction was when he found out that MK was a fan of his?

Oct 29

When you check the family photo, Chara's response would be "..."

Do you think that Chara cuddled with Asriel?

Oct 30 - "Papyrus feels the need to inspect them… just in case."

Multiple AU Headcanons

Oct 1 - More Gpapara headcanons please! Child of the ruins too?

Oct 2 - Frans AUs reacts to Frisk suddenly dying and not resetting?

Oct 6 - Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these AUs or something else

Oct 8

In order from least to most, who are the ten biggest tsunderes

UT Frisk and US Chara when bfs are telling puns to other women?

Minus HT Sans, who are the most protective/possessive?

Oct 9

Skelebros react to someone very openly checking out their ladies?

Soft UT Papara, soft househusband Green, and soft UF Papara

With each Papara and Frans couple, who kissed who first?

Oct 10

Skelehusbands favorite places to kiss on their wives?

What would Older/Married Skelehusbands give to Younger selves?

Seeing his favorite human trying on his scarf

How do the Sanses react once Frisk starts aging...

What would their skeleton lovers react to "that time of the month"?

Oct 11

How do the Sanses feel if Frisk had a previous love interest...

UF, US, and SF Sans and Frisk are pregnant but the girls don't know

Would Soul sensing be the same in reverse?

Aww, man. I was hoping for them to freak out or something

Where do their wives like to kiss their favorite skeleton?

Lol, I can only imagine how freaked out they'd get. :3

If “previous love interest” caused Frisk to have a negative reaction?

Oct 12

Do the Frisks squish their Sans' faces?

What if the first kisses where started by the cutiebones’ lovers?

Do any of the Frans/Papara couples get into arguments

Is there a human that likes the Gaster AUs?

How did each version of Sans and Papyrus go about soulmates

When did the Sanses realize that they were in love with their Frisk?

Chara had to deal with their ex-lover. Papyrus' response??

Oct 13 - Most Papyri refer to themselves as "the Great Papyrus”…

Oct 22 - Frisk/Chara with whom they refer to as a "boy friend"?

Oct 27 - Have the Sanses/Swap Papyruses always liked bad jokes?

Oct 29

Do UT Chara/US Frisk have doubts that the Royal Family loved them?

Frans/Papara confessions where Frisk/Chara confess?

Chara responds to receiving a bouquet of flowers/chocolate

Other Headcanons

Oct 1

Monster Hunter Chara and Monster Papyrus?

Can I ask for FellGFrans? or FellGPap?

Persephone/hades-esque headcanons for both Frans and Papara

Would HT Frisk ever fall in love despite him keeping her captive?

Oct 2

Your pacifist horrortale...but swapped?

Reaper and Frisk as Hades and Persephone X3

Oct 3 - I was wondering if you’ve heard of an AU called Farmtale

Oct 4

A modern war AU where Sans is a spy and so is Frisk

Any HorrorFrans/Papara hcs you could share with us?

About that Lamia AU... what would be the next step to courting

Horrorswap Papara please

Oct 6

Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these aus or something else

Snippets from Feeling Bonely without you?

Wild West AU love triangle between Grillby, Chara and Papyrus.

Skeleton bachelors in the HarvestTale/FarmTale soul events

Oct 10 - Horrorswap Papara proposal

Oct 12 - In Outertale, Sans shows Frisk where shooting stars fly by

Oct 13 - What is Henri's relationship with Frisk?

Oct 20 - What's your ideas about Core! Frisk and Error?

Oct 21

Headcanons for semisolidmind’s Aslyumswap

Narrator-Chara AU headcanons?

“The Villain I Appear To Be,” does Frisk feel remorse for hurting Sans

Oct 22

Swapfell Papara/Frans cuddles?

If the Convergence AU was a Papara reverse harem?

Oct 23

More cuddles! Outertale Papara/Frans?

AUs where Chara and Frisk are "joined at the soul” explanation

Oct 28 - "Chara and Frisk are attached via soul", an alternate view…