tell-me-a-tale-that-tells

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

I've come to a point that, for me, is almost impossible to write. I have no time for myself and to do what I love, which saddens me enormously. It's hard, it's frustrating, it's almost maddening. I refuse to give up on this, I'll return to write as soon as I can, but for now, I have to ask for forgiveness from all the persons who asked me to write for them.

I'll be back, I swear, but for now, I'll try to not sink too low.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Glowing Crystals & Voided Minds

18+ only

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Characters & Pairings: Female OC & Lest (Arcane), Female OC/ Viktor (Arcane/League of Legends), Singed (Arcane/League of Legends), Smeech (Arcane), Sevika (Arcane), Viktor (Arcane/League of Legends), Lest (Arcane).

Warnings: violence, mention of murder, blood and gore, death.

Summary: Enith tries to track down Singed but things take an horrible turn.

Note: This fic is still a work in progress. I may end up changing things on the go, but it's perfectly readable.

━───────⊹⊱✙⊰⊹───────━

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (coming soon)

Eniths breath came in short bursts as she darted through the grimy back alleys of Zaun, her boots skidding across the slick, oil-streaked cobblestone.

All she could think about was that Lest was right. She always was.

Smeech’s gang had been on her heels for nearly an hour, their shouts and laughter echoing ominously in the narrow corridors.

She was close to obtaining the info she needed.

Too close for the Chem-Baron’s comfort, it seemed.

Enith slid behind a stack of rusted metal crates, her pulse hammering.

"Come out, girl!" one of them shouted, his voice booming like a roar. "You can't hide forever."

Clenching her teeth and adjusting her grip on the blade she had taken from a dead thug earlier, she tried to move soundlessly.

The air down in the depths of Zaun was thicker, even more polluted, almost suffocating and far worse than the upper levels.

It made every breath taste of chemicals, decay, and dampness.

Taking a glance around, her gaze caught the shape of sewer grates embedded in the ground.

She broke the rusty locks with a couple of kicks, the metal giving way with a loud clang.

Just as Smeech’s men turned the corner, Enith slipped into the darkness below, the stench of the Zaunite sewers hit her like a punch. The gang followed, hollering above as their boots clattered on the walkway.

The water swirled around her legs, cold and fast-moving, but manageable for now.

Suddenly, a loud mechanical grinding filled the tunnel, echoing like thunder.

The floodgates.

“They’re going to flush me out…” she whispered under her breath, panic rising in her chest.

The waters churned violently as the floodgates opened, and within seconds, the currents picked up speed, turning the tunnel into a deadly, rushing river.

Enith tried to steady herself, her fingers frantically searching for something to hold onto, but the force of the water swept her away.

For several moments, she tumbled through the dark waters, gasping for breath every chance she got.

Her body slammed against the walls of the sewers, her ribs aching from the impact.

Just as the sensation of drowning crept up on her, she managed to grip a protruding pipe, pulling herself out of the main rush of water.

Coughing and sputtering, she dragged herself onto a narrow ledge and collapsed.

Her lungs were burning, her eyes watering and stinging.

She hoped that the gang would think she was dead. When she finally sat up, sore and soaking wet, her eyes adjusted to the dark.

The walls there were different, older, cracked, and lined with strange tubes that pulsed with a soft, purple glow.

It was then that she saw it: the familiar scent of chemicals, the strange, bubbling concoctions that lined the walls, shelves over shelves of jars containing severed limbs, heads and organs.

A smile crept across her lips.

She was exactly where she wanted to be.   ──── ◉ ────   Enith stood in the dim, eerie glow of Singed’s lab, her clothes still damp and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

The infamous chemist loomed over a workbench, his back turned to her, busy with some foul concoction.

Even from where she was standing, she could see several human eyes swirling in the liquid.

Singed’s long, twisted frame moved with an unsettling calm like someone who had long since stopped caring about the arrival of intruders.

A mask concealed the lower half of his face, leaving out his sharp nose and bulging eyes.

Singed didn’t look up, even when he heard her coming closer.

“Ah, I love it when my lab rats show up of their own free will.” he rasped, his voice a harsh whisper, as if it had been scraped raw by years of inhaling toxins.

Enith’s hand hovered near a table, picking up a scalpel. He was certainly crazy but equally intelligent and she didn’t know what to expect from him.

He could kill her in a heartbeat, but right now, he didn’t seem interested in violence.

He slowly turned around, studying her with curiosity.

“I need answers,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “About the hextech crystals. The illegal trafficking, you’re the one behind all of this.”

Singed let out a small, hollow laugh, “ No, my young little mouse. I think you’ve come a long way to find the wrong man”

“I’m not here to waste time.” Enith stepped closer, the sound of her boots echoing slightly in the cramped space. “Tell me what you know, or I’ll make you.”

Singed chuckled again, a sound that grated against her nerves. “Oh, threats. How delightful.”

But as he looked at her, his eyes flickered, narrowing as if noticing something for the first time.

Enith had caught his attention—not with her words, but with something else.

His gaze dropped lower, lingering on her chest, where a rune-like tattoo was faintly visible through her soaked undergarments. In that instant, his demeanour shifted.

The amusement drained from his eyes, leaving space for something darker.

His hands, which had been idly stirring the toxic brew, froze mid-motion.

“That…symbol…” he muttered, almost to himself.

Enith tensed. She hadn’t expected him to recognize the tattoo, much less its meaning.

She refused to let him see her fear.

Singed leaned closer, studying her like she was some kind of rare specimen. “Interesting. Very interesting. You’re not an ordinary lab rat”

Before she could react, Singed’s hands shot out swiftly, grabbing her arm with a crushing grip.

Enith tried to resist her own powers but it was only a waste of strength.

Singed’s mind was like the inside of a living creature—viscid and pulsating.

A twisted nauseating labyrinth of fleshy walls, moist and dripping. To her horror, she was forced to see him dissecting almost everything he could lay his fingers on.

Animals, men, women, even children.

Alive or dead.

Enith twisted, trying to pull away, but his strength was monstrous. He shoved her against the nearest table, the vials rattling as she hit the metal surface.

“You’ve been marked by something ancient, haven’t you?” His voice was higher now almost pinched.

Enith gritted her teeth, finding the right moment to react, she gripped the scalpel tightly slicing at his arm with a quick, clean motion.

Blood started to gush out of the severed artery, Singed let out a scream that echoed for several seconds through the sewer tunnels.

He recoiled with a hiss, stepping back just enough for her to slip free. She didn’t wait. Enith bolted to her feet, spinning around with the blade in hand, the tip pointed directly at his chest.

Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes were cold and sharp. “Touch me again and you’ll be the one dissected,” she said, her voice low, dangerous.   Singed clutched his bleeding arm, but the pain seemed to only excite him more.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He murmured.

Before she could react, he reached for a lever on the side of the room, yanking it down violently.

The floor beneath her began to shake as a hidden mechanism made it open up under her feet.

Enith’s heart sank as did her, falling for a couple of meters before landing on something solid but not hard as a stone floor. Discarded corpses.

Even if she was no stranger to cut open human bodies, that was too much even for her.

There were dozens in various stages of decomposition. Singed’s laugh echoed through the lab, “Sleep tight my dear, tomorrow’s a big day.”

She needed to get out of there.

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I would like to know what you think about it! Do you like this chapter?

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Glowing Crystals & Voided Minds

18+ only, minors dni

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Characters & Pairings: Female OC & Lest (Arcane), Female OC/ Viktor (Arcane/League of Legends), Singed (Arcane/League of Legends), Smeech (Arcane), Sevika (Arcane), Viktor (Arcane/League of Legends), Lest (Arcane).

Warnings: violence, mention of murder, blood and gore, death.

Summary: Enith is a young woman with a very specific power; reading into the minds of living and dead persons. She embarks on a dangerous journey to free herself from a curse and stop illegal traffic.

Note: This fic is still a work in progress. I may end up changing things on the go, but it's perfectly readable.

━───────⊹⊱✙⊰⊹───────━

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (coming soon)

The room was filled with thick, foggy smoke as if the polluted air of Zaun wasn’t enough.

People still had the audacity to use tobacco.

Enith tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the wooden table, the black polish concealing dried blood beneath them.

"When will she arrive?" she asked, her tone politely veiled with impatience.

Patience had never been her strength, but business was business, and she couldn’t proceed until this deal was closed.

"In a couple of minutes," a tall, curvy redhead replied. Her face was almost entirely concealed by a leather mask. "Margot's been very busy lately."

Right on cue, Margot entered in a rush and sat across from her.

"Enith, my dear," she began, her voice sugary with false charm. "I’m terribly sorry for the delay, but I need your help. You'll be well compensated, of course."

Enith had long grown immune to Margot’s pet names.

She knew there was no sincerity or sweetness behind them.

She tilted her head slightly, signalling for Margot to continue.

"One of my girls was murdered, we found her a couple of hours ago," Margot said, frustrated. "My business is already falling apart without psychos killing off my staff. The monster responsible for this had already escaped, I need to know who he was.”

A wave of nausea rolled through Enith, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, stifling it. "You know what this will cost you, Marg," she said, her voice rough.

Margot hesitated for a moment, considering. "Don’t worry" her voice lowering slightly. "I know someone who has exactly what you’ve been looking for."

"Deal," Enith said without hesitation. "Take me to the dead girl."

They walked down the purple-tinted corridor, passing rooms adorned with cascading beads and curtains in hues of blue and red. The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive. Finally, Margot stopped in front of a room, her face etched with discomfort.

"She’s in there," Margot said, avoiding to look at the room's entrance.

She clearly wanted nothing to do with what lay beyond the door.

“What was her name?” Enith asked, stepping inside.

“Karina, or at least it’s the name she gave me” Margot answered, “When you’re finished, you’ll find me in my office” and with that, she walked back down the corridor.

At the centre of the dimly lit room stood a bathtub.

The scent of roses and vanilla was almost nauseating.

Inside the tub, the water had long gone cold, and a young girl with long brown hair lay lifeless, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Enith noticed the bruises around the girl's neck—small, black, and blue marks, the unmistakable imprint of a hand.

"Hello, Karina," Enith murmured, "Don’t worry, I won’t pry more than necessary."

She circled the tub with slow, deliberate steps until she stood behind the girl's head and taking a deep, steady breath, she extended her hands and gently placed them on the victim’s temples.

In an instant, sensations flooded her mind.

Heat enveloped her, water lapping softly at her skin.

A man's voice murmured nearby.

She felt a light touch on her ankle, a soft kiss on her shoulder.

A deep, aching longing swelled in her chest—a craving for something.

Home? Safety in someone's arms? Acceptance?

Then came a sharp pain, piercing through her chest.

Panic.

And then, nothing.

An empty void.

Enith released her grip, letting her hands fall to her sides.

Her dark eyes lingered on the girl a moment longer, coldly assessing the scene.

After another silent sweep of the room, confirming what she already knew, she turned and left.

"Heart failure? Are you sure?" Margot asked in disbelief. "What about the bruises on her neck? I thought that man strangled her!"

Enith shook her head, her short black bob swaying with the movement. "Those bruises are from a day or two ago. Her last client wasn’t trying to kill her. If anything, he was being... kind."

A chill rippled through her as the memory surfaced, but she dismissed it just as quickly.

Margot thanked her and handed over a business card—black and elegant, thick with expensive paper.

The gold lettering gleamed in the low light. "You’ll find your payment here," she said before bidding Enith farewell. ──── ◉ ────   Walking around in Zaun at night is not recommended for everyone who holds their life dear.

She preferred these quiet moments, where no one bothered her, where she could let her mind rest, free from the demands of the living or the whispers of the dead.

Finally, she stopped in front of a grim building, made of iron and glass, a faint green light coming from inside—"Blackthorn Funeral Home," the sign read.

Enith pushed open the heavy wooden door, a few dim candles flickered by the entrance, casting trembling shadows on the walls.

On the far end of the room stood a wooden table with white linen draped over it and, on top of that, a slick black coffin with its lid closed.

In front of the already unsettling display, a chem baron was cutting some stems from an overgrown plant.

He was tall, unnaturally lanky, with long limbs, and the skin clung too tightly to his angular bones.

He greeted Enith with educated mannerisms "Good evening, I'm Voren Clyve. Do you have an appointment, perhaps?" Said the man, revealing two rows of yellowed teeth.

The chemical vials that hung from his belt clung as he moved, giving off a scent of embalming fluid. "No", Enith answered drily, "but you have something for me" She fished out the business card and handed it to him.

The chem baron’s smile widened, his fingers toying with the small piece of paper.

"So direct. Very well. There's a certain body... a very special one. Someone from Piltover. Freshly dead, and still warm"

Enith raised an eyebrow. "And what makes this body so special?"

He gestured toward a door at the back of the room.

Enith’s expression remained cold, but she followed him, curious as Voren led her into a big, sterile room.

There, on a metal table, lay the body. It was covered in a thin, white sheet, the outline of the figure beneath clearly visible. A man.

Enith stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, there was a strange energy, subtle but unmistakable to someone like her.

Voren stood at her side, his thin smile never faltering. “I assume you’re interested?” he asked.

He began to make a list of the advantages as if he were talking about a now useless machine from which to obtain spare parts, Enith absentmindedly heard about gold teeth to be extracted, a prosthesis

to be removed and resold, and other things that she didn't pay attention to the slightest attention.  

Enith’s gaze didn’t move from the covered body; she extended a hand, making it hover above the body.

Ozone, sharp and tang like the taste of blood, the faint scent of metal, volatile and delicate like the frost of the grass on winter mornings.

Magic.

After a moment, she nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Voren’s smile widened, pleased. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the corpse as if presenting a gift. “Then it’s all yours, my dear."

Without a word, Enith reached into her coat, pulling out a heavy pouch and tossing it to Voren.

"One hundred, if you can deliver him by tomorrow morning at this address" she scribbled it on the white sheet, tapping it afterwards with her left index "I'll give you more if you will find another"   Voren’s smile turned predatory. “It's a pleasure doing business with you"

Enith smiled back, only the corners of her mouth moved up while her eyes stayed the same.

She left the Funeral House, closed her coat tightly around her and walked her way home.   ──── ◉ ────  

As the morning sun filtered by the smoke shone through the windows, Enith stirred in her bed, her body tangled in the sheets.

She rose from the bed and moved silently through the space.

Her black bob was tousled from sleep, she yawned and slipped into her favourite robe.

Enith moved toward the window, pausing for a moment to glance outside, then she turned her attention to her plants, watering them using a small copper watering can.

The plants provided some fresh oxygen and she tended to them with care, little moments of routine that kept her rooted to something simple.

A small rustling sound from the corner of the room caught her attention.

Enith glanced over to see her Poro waddling toward her, its tiny paws tapping softly on the floor.

It looked up at her with wide, expectant eyes, a faint squeak escaping its mouth.

"Hungry, Vik?" she murmured to the little creature, her voice soft.

She filled his bowl with some herbs and bits of meat she bought specifically for only him, while Vik started to squeak and run in circles around her legs.

"Just a moment" Enith allowed herself a brief smile, watching the Poro eat, she loved and spoiled him like a child.

Once her companion was well fed, Enith cooked her breakfast, a simple herbal tea, some toasted bread and butter.

The Poro finished its meal and padded over to her, hopping onto the chair across from her and curling up into a fluffy ball.

Enith reached out, her fingers gently brushing its fur, "I have to go, sweetie" she murmured. ──── ◉ ────  

"This is not the body I saw yesterday,", Enith said through gritted teeth.

The two gravediggers looked puzzled at each other "It's the body Mr. Clyve told us to deliver here, ma'am." The younger one explained, "It was the only body we had in the morgue" told the older.

The dead man on the slab didn't give off any of the energy she felt the night before.

"I can assure you, it's not him" she complained, stressed out by the situation.

She was sure enough they weren't lying, even without prying in their minds; it wasn't probably their fault anyway.

"Listen, Gentlemen," she began, and the two men looked quite flattened by the way she addressed them, "I will talk to Clyve personally; you can take the corpse inside, please."

The gravediggers unloaded the unfortunate man back from their motorized cart, but before they could turn to leave, Enith’s hands shot out.   She placed her fingertips gently on the nearest man’s forehead, and his body tensed for a moment, eyes glazing over as she pressed into his mind.

The other gravedigger, too slow to realize what was happening, had no time to react before she laid her hand on him as well.

The location of her lab was far too important to risk, so she removed any information they gathered.

The two workers heard the big door of her laboratory close behind their backs, "Tell me, Fred, do you know where we are...and why?"

As soon as the door clicked shut, the calm façade Enith had shattered.

She spun on her heel, storming into her laboratory.

"How is that possible?" she muttered to herself, slamming her hands onto the cluttered workbench.

She picked up a sharp bistury and lifted the blanket off the body.

She tried to reach up into his mind, but there was nothing left, she only perceived an infinite void, which for her experiment, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

She observed that the surgical incisions on the man’s body were made post-mortem, but they weren’t caused by a scalpel.

Instead, they appeared to be from something that burned through the flesh.

Still, the cuts were unnaturally precise—far more than what was possible with ordinary tools.

She doubted Voren had anything like that in the morgue.

Enith couldn’t be sure if the cuts had been there the night before, as she hadn’t seen the body uncovered.

But if they weren’t...?

Her eyes flicked toward the obsidian orb resting on the table.

She studied her own reflection in its smooth, black surface for a moment before a thought struck her. "But... what if it wasn’t the man? What if it was something inside him?"

Enith lifted the orb, passing it between her hands as she pondered. "Something small. Something that could be easily removed..."

The stained glass windows above cast shifting patterns of light onto the floor.

One of the beams of light caught the orb in her hand, and for a moment, it gleamed with a blue reflection.

"A hex crystal," she whispered.   ──── ◉ ────   Voren Clyve’s profession had long dulled his fear of Death.

He knew, like everyone, that one day She would come for him, but watching so many souls depart before him made him feel oddly safe, even empowered.

But at that moment, Voren was terrified.

The dark figure looming at the foot of his bed was enough to chill his blood. Motionless, cold, and menacing, it stood there in silence.

At first, he thought it was just another nightmare—he’d had his share—but when he felt two hands grip tightly around his calves, the realization struck: this was no dream.   Enith was already deep inside his mind, she felt the damp chill of his home, the sterile, polished surfaces of coffins, and the cold apathy that festered in his heart.

As she delved further, she found herself in a long hallway lined with countless doors, most of them sealed tight.

One door creaked open, revealing a young Voren, toying with a dead rat and burying it in a tiny grave he dug with his hands.

Another showed him flirting with a colleague, his affections unreturned.

Yet in another, they appeared happy together—but the door next to it was locked, surrounded by sharp thorns and black roses, with a golden plaque glinting between them.   “Derrin,” Enith whispered.   She moved past it, searching for something deeper, until finally, she found what she sought.   “This body is already reserved,” Voren had said in his memory, “A client has already paid for it.”   “I don’t need the body, just something inside it,” came the calm reply of a shadowy figure, his whole body obscured. Only the faint glow of something oscillating near him gave away his presence.   “I can’t let you defile this corpse,” Voren had repeated, trying to stand his ground. But the response was a gloved hand clamping around his neck, squeezing until he could barely breathe.   “You will let me retrieve what’s mine. Understand?” The man’s voice was chillingly calm.   Voren, unable to resist, had no choice but to agree. He watched helplessly as the man expertly sliced into the body, rummaging through its innards until he produced a glowing blue crystal. The undertaker hoped that his client would never know.   But Voren had been wrong, gravely wrong.   The stranger had patted him on the shoulder with a bloodstained hand before vanishing into the night.

When Voren finally regained his senses, Enith was already gone.

Flipping through the pages of a ledger, Enith searched for a name, a pattern, something that could provide a clue.

One name kept recurring—Singed—appearing every two weeks like clockwork. It was her only lead.

Refusing to touch again his mind and knowing Clyve wouldn’t talk, she’d have to find another way.   ──── ◉ ──── It’s true what they say: if you need information, the best place to go is a bar.

The patrons there were always desperate or careless, eager to talk if you bought them enough drinks.   “Welcome to The Last Drop,” a woman with a mechanical arm said from behind the counter.

“What can I get you?” Her tone was indifferent as if she’d asked the same question a thousand times.   “Something that doesn’t reek of alcohol,” Enith replied, taking a seat on one of the stools.   “Water or juice. Your choice,” the woman said, raising an eyebrow. She was muscular, with dark skin and piercing eyes.   “Sevika,” came a honeyed voice from behind Enith. “I’ll cover whatever she’s having.”   Enith turned, surprised to see a familiar face. “Lest! What a pleasure to see you here,” she exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “How are you?”   Lest smiled warmly and gently guided Enith to a quiet corner of the bar.

“I’m working,” she whispered. “Gathering information... and something tells me you’re here for the same reason, love.”

One of Lest’s ears twitched, straining to catch the bar’s background chatter.   “Do you know anything about Hex crystals?” Enith asked, her voice low as she traced the worn lines of the wooden table with her fingers, running over knife-etched names.   Lest almost jumped in her seat. “Enith, what kind of trouble are you in?” She lit a cigarette, looking nervous.

“Alright, listen. I don’t want to know why you’re asking, but... there’s a man who—let’s say—coordinates the illegal import of Hex technology into Zaun.” She tapped the cigarette, letting ashes fall onto the floor.   Enith leaned closer, hanging on every word.

“They call him Singed. I’ve never seen him, but if there’s someone behind all this, it’s him. Please, Enith, promise me you won’t go after him.” Lest reached across the table, resting her hand on Enith’s.   “I can’t, Lest,” Enith said, her voice steady but her eyes softening as she held her friend’s gaze. “I don’t care if I have to steal it or buy it—I need one of those crystals. I can’t live like this anymore.”   Lest withdrew her hand, apologizing with a guilty look.

Enith shook her head. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she murmured before rising from her seat.

Lest held her hand, stopping her from leaving.

“I don’t read minds but I understand when you’ve seen something that troubled you. You can tell me.” Lest said once Enith sat back.

“I think, and for now, it’s just a hypothesis that one of the corpses for my experiments had a hex crystal inside, but… someone, took it before me”, she confessed, discouraged.

“So they’re using bodies to traffick them? Or maybe couriers, either they kill the couriers once they get here or…maybe is the crystal itself that leads them to death” Lest said, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

Enith remained lost in her thoughts for several minutes before speaking “I have to find him.” She announced and Lest shot her a scolding glare.

“He will kill you” she whispered, “Enith, please that man is out of his mind” Lest stub out her cigarette, and produced a photo from her purse, handing it to her friend.

The picture was of a young man, his chest opened and organs removed, even the eyes were carved out.

“This” said Lest almost sobbing “will be the end you’ll meet if you mess with him. That was an enforcer who had the bad luck of trying to stop Singed”

Enith looked into Lest’s eyes, seeing tears starting to form and threatening to fall down.

“It’s worth the risk” she simply answered, before tossing the photo on the table and making her way towards the exit.

──── ◉ ────

This is the end of the first chapter and I would love to hear your impressions about the story and Enith!

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Am I writing a canon divergent dark fic set in Arcane/League of Legends world? Yes, I am.

Did I created a cool OC in ten minutes because inspiration struck? Oh, yes.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

ECHOES OF LOST SALVATION

18+ only, minors stay away, please.

┉┅━━━━━━━━━━┅┉

Pairing: Jayce Talis X Viktor

Summary: Jayce returned from the alternative dimension changed forever by what he saw. He goes to Viktor and tries to reason with him. Smut happens.

Warnings: canon divergence, canon violence, smut, adult contents, mental illness.

Notes: I wrote Viktor as trans, but I didn't go too much into details so you can interpret him as you want.

This fic was written through literal pain, my medications were not working and probably I wrote a lot of wrong and senseless sentences.

Read at your own risk and please, leave a comment 🙏🏻

┉┅━━━━━━━━━━┅┉

Jayce let himself be guided by the child he almost killed seconds prior; the little hand holding his was strangely cold as soft fallen snow.

The other people at the camp had unsettling neutral expressions that gave him chills; it's not normal or natural that no one moved a single finger when he treated someone's son.

But as he stepped into the strange spherical room, his mind went blank for a moment, before filling up again like a raging river, the waves crashing over every thought, mixing it up and sweeping it away, only to shatter it into a thousand smaller pieces that filled his skull.

Hovering two metres from the ground, Viktor had his eyes closed, but Jayce could see them move under his eyelids. He seemed to be in a deep Rem phase or perhaps meditating.

His bare chest heaved rhythmically with every breath, the blue robe he was wearing pooled around his waist and dangling down below.

Viktor's now longer hair framed his beautiful face, his expression serene and somewhat concentrated at the same time.

What would Jace have given to know what was happening in the other's mind?

Did he know about Salo? How he crushed his head on the ground with his hammer in an outburst of rage, because he knew what the blonde counsellor was transforming into.

But in the end, it doesn't matter anyway.

He stadied himself, feet planted firmly on the ground, holding his hammer before him and pointing it right at his former partner.

Viktor opened his eyes and saw his friend in a clear state of distress, pointing his corrupted hammer at him, charged and ready to fire.

"Jayce, I was looking forward to your presence here," Viktor said, the angle of his mouth imperceptibly raising.

Those eyes, Talis thought, how many times he hoped to be able to wake up in the morning and see them as the very first thing of every day.

But now those changed too.

Jayce gritted his teeth, his voice mixed with Viktor's echoed in his mind, creating a loop of anger and longing.

His sight glitched and he violently shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Jayce?" Viktor called softly.

Jayce exhaled loudly and lowered his hammer, leaving it to fall heavily on the ground at his feet.

Viktor was looking at him quizzically.

Following his gaze from his former partner to the walls of the curved walls, Jayce noticed the white glowing strings coming from Viktor's back.

"I have to talk to you about so many discoveries I made, Jayce; however, I rather know what happened to you. You seem...changed, troubled even. " Viktor said without changing expression or tone; only his eyes showed a slight concern.

"Changed?" Jayce snarled, shaking his head once more, his long hair falling before his eyes; he passed a hand over his face, trying to find the right words to say.

His mind was racing at thousands of miles per second; he couldn't stop thinking about all the horrors he saw and what the other Viktor said to him.

He was afraid to fail, but he promised.

He promised to him.

For him.

Just before Viktor could say another word, he was being yanked down on the floor as Jayce used all his force to grip two tendrils, brutally pulling him down from his levitation state.

The tendrils snapped as Viktor violently hit the floor, his now heavier body creating a resonating sound when it collided with the hard surface.

"Jayce, what-" he was about to ask before he was interrupted by the other man.

"Do you have the faintest idea of what are you doing?" Jayce shouted, letting his rage flow freely; his throat burned from how much he raised his tone.

"Saving lives, as you can easily see by yourself," Viktor answered, raising to his feet and adjusting his robes.

Jayce looked at his long fingers pulling the blue fabric in place, recognising it as the blanket he put on Viktor's shoulders when he emerged from the Hexcore cocoon and as much as he didn't want to, his eyes fell on his narrow waist accentuated, by the white belts that were fastened tightly around it.

With a rapid movement, Jayce gripped Viktor's throat, feeling the odd metal-like texture of his mutated skin under his fingers as he held him fast.

"You are depriving them of their humanity, Viktor! This is not salvation, you are destroying their identity. I must... I must..." Jayce sobbed and tightened his grip around Viktor's neck.

Viktor didn't react at all; he could have sent Jayce flying outside from the door, but he simply chose not to fight his former colleague.

Instead, he waited for his next move, only placing one hand on Jayce's forearm.

Of all the things Viktor expected Jayce to do, being pulled toward him wasn’t one of them.

Nor did he expect to feel Jayce’s dry lips press against his.

It wasn't a kiss, he knew for sure, it was a way to avoid verbal communication or any form of violence as it wasn't tender; it wasn't sweet, it tasted like blood and suffering and utter desperation.

Still, he didn't pull away, even when their teeth clashed together.

"Please, stop" Jayce murmured against Viktor's lips, but he didn't even know what he was referring to.

"Stop this madness. Stop being in my head. Stop tearing at my heart." Jayce though.

"Jayce, what happened to you?" Viktor asked again, and once more, his question fell on deaf ears, Jayce let go of his neck.

Viktor's face was now held in Jayce's hands, he saw the other's yellow eyes searching for something, full of emotions so opposed to one another that any other person would have broken eye contact to not be lost in them.

When finally Jayce found a little flicker of Viktor's amber irises, he kissed him again, one of his hands tangled in the other's hair at the base of his neck, pulling him closer.

Viktor felt the air disappearing from his lungs. He clenched his fists on Jayce's rugged and dirty clothes, not knowing if he should have pulled him in or pushed him away, but in the end, he found himself responding to the kiss, angling his head right to deepen it.

Jayce let out a growl of approval before tugging sharply at Viktor's hair, interrupting the kiss and holding his head to the side so he could have easy access to his neck and jaw.

Before the proclaimed Herald could speak a single word, Jayce dropped to his knees, sneaking a hand under the blue flowy robes Viktor wore, fingers caressing his calf.

Jayce followed his hand with his mouth, placing hot kisses on Viktor's cold skin, occasionally scraping it with his teeth, nipping and licking his way up to his groin, stopping just at the junction of his leg.

It was not a surprise what he found there; he had already seen Viktor naked in their shared laboratory when he was so happy that his friend was alive and standing in front of him that he initially barely noticed his undressed state.

Viktor let out a sharp exhale when he felt Jayce's mouth so close to his core, carding his fingers through the messy strands on top of the other man's head.

Viktor’s heart ached as he looked at Jayce, a lump forming in his throat, threatening to suffocate him.

The sudden shift in Jayce's demeanour left him perplexed, and though he was enjoying the attention, Viktor sensed the weight Jayce was carrying within himself.

He stopped Jayce from moving toward what he wanted, perhaps more than the air he needed to live, forcing him to lock their gaze.

"Why did you come here? What do you hope to achieve with all this?" Viktor asked, frowning and studying the lines on Jayce's face; sure, they hadn't been there just a few months ago.

He knew that face even better than everyone else; he could even try to deny and fool himself by saying that he hadn't spent entire days looking at it when he thought Jayce didn't notice him, too absorbed in something.

He gently touched a wrinkle, small scars, as if they were new and fascinating discoveries, flaws, but that on him didn't look like ones.

"You. I only want you. Please" Jayce sobbed, hiding his face.

Then Viktor also knelt to be on the same level as his old friend. "You've always had me, Jayce, but I'm afraid you never noticed" It was not an accusation, but a fact.

"I’ve been alone for so long, just... thinking. About you, about us, everything. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. It’s been torture without you." Jayce finally confessed, still avoiding Viktor's gaze.

Viktor let off a humourless chuckle. "Don't lie to me. I perfectly know your first thought has to be counsellor Medarda, Jayce." It came out more bitter than he intended his words to be, even if jealousy was not one of his flaws.

In an instant, Jayce was again on him, kissing his mouth and mumbling apologies sweet as honey, and Viktor welcomed it all, feeling like he was finally coming home.

Jayce was so painfully aroused that his already wandering mind couldn't take it much longer before it went totally crazy.

Viktor found himself pressed against the floor, pinned down by the other man's weight and feeling his hands moving on his body mapping every new nook and cranny.

He gasped and moaned, a sound that started from his throat and died in Jayce's as the man's fingers touched between his legs, shy but expertly finding the right spot and teasing his entrance.

The resistance Jayce found when he tried to push a finger in caught him by surprise, as was the texture of Viktor's inside walls but seeing his lover's blissed reaction was enough to encourage him to continue.

Viktor fumbled with the belt around the other man's waist, losing his patience and snapping it with his bare hands, throwing it away behind himself, earning a moan of approval from Jayce when the cold golden tips of his fingers finally came to contact with his overheated skin.

As Jayce pushed Viktor to fully lay on his back, he whispered in his ear, "When I was with Mel... It's you I thought about. You intoxicated me since... the day you saved my life." Even if he knew that probably Viktor was thinking about the wrong moment, how could he know?

Viktor's breath hitched in his throat as Jayce's fingers finally penetrated him, filling the void he didn't know he had.

"Prove it" At Viktor's demand, he positioned himself between Viktor's legs and slowly began to sink into his warmth.

He didn't go slow as he should have, impatient as he was, and Viktor cried out, arching up from the overwhelming feeling of being filled.

"I'm not made of glass, Jayce" Viktor grunted, his body tensing as Jayce's thrusts became harder, faster. "Then treat me like you'll never break me," he panted.

Jayce pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in, setting an almost punishing pace.

"Yes!" Viktor gasped, his back arching off the floor. Jayce's name was a sweet moan on his lips as he threw his head back, falling into the rhythm.

"Viktor...I-ah! Won't last long"

Jayce's hips slapped against Viktor's, driving him crazy by the second.

"You don't have to," Viktor cried out as another wave of pleasure crashed over him, he held Jayce as close as possible, locking his legs behind the other's lower back, one hand tangled in Jayce's hair as he devoured his neck with kisses and bites.

Suddenly and without any warning, he slammed into Viktor one last time and with enough force to take them both by surprise.

Jayce let out a primal shout and emptied himself into Viktor, his seed shooting out with enough force to make the other tip over the edge as well.

Viktor clenched tightly around Jayce as his walls rippled, letting out a long moan that echoed between the spherical walls.

Jayce collapsed on top of Viktor, sweat dripped from his forehead, his heart racing as he stared down at the mess he made between his lover's legs, "I-I didn't mean to... I couldn't help it," he panted, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Viktor reached up to brush a lock of hair from Jayce's forehead. "I didn't expect anything less from you," he said with a smile, "always the passionate one", he murmured before pulling back slightly to better look at the man over him. "You still look worried about something."

Jayce took a deep breath, strangely admitting his feelings was way more difficult than showing them through physical intimacy. "I'm still terrified...to lose you to your ambitions", he whispered.

Viktor reached up to cup Jayce's cheek, brushing his thumb over the worried line between his brows. "Oh Jayce," he whispered, his voice dropping to a tone that made Jayce's blood freeze into his veins. "You never could hold me back'.

Without separating their bodies, Viktor rolled them over, taking Jayce by surprise. When the back of his head hit the floor, Viktor hovered over him, his hands running up and down Jayce's chest and abdomen.

"If it's fear you're feeling," Viktor spoke, "I can take it away. Everything that makes you suffer would be gone."

Jayce looked up at Viktor, his eyes wide with fear; he knew what Viktor was offering and that if, at that moment, he chose to transform him into one of his future string puppets, Jayce couldn't even bear himself to stop him.

"V-Viktor, please," he whispered, reaching out to grab his lover's hands.

Instead, Viktor began to grind his hips, moving them in a small, circular motion against Jayce's, earning a strangled moan from the latter.

"Stay here with me, live with us. We're all trying to make good, Jayce" 

Viktor's voice was thick and sweet as honey, filled with sincerity and promises. 

His words echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Jayce's aching chest, he knew that Viktor’s intentions were good, but as Himerdinger tried to warn them years prior, all that power in the wrong hands could only lead to chaos.

Jayce saw what the arcane could do. 

"This community needs a man like you..." Viktor continued.

"Don't..." Jayce whimpered, eyes screwing shut in discomfort. 

He was well aware of what was going through Viktor's mind – or rather, what might soon be going through it, if Jayce gave in. 

"Shh," Viktor soothed, his thumbs rubbing small circles on Jayce's cheeks as he leaned down to press their foreheads together, "Let me help you feel better. Let me show you what it's like to be free of your worries." 

Jayce's instinct kicked back in, he pushed Viktor away and stood up, composing himself before taking his hammer again. 

Viktor's eyes widened, the blue glow of the charging hammer illuminating the room, but quickly the stupor left place to understanding, "I see...it appears that you have resorted to a familiar method to achieve your goals. It may have worked for Mel, Jayce... but I'm not so naive" 

Jayce's cheeks flushed red from anger and embarrassment, "You don't know what you're talking about!" He gritted his teeth, preparing to defend himself.

Viktor smiled sadly, shaking his head. "I know more things about you than you think, you thought that having that intercourse would make me change my mind, wouldn't it? Well, know this…"  

Jayce let Viktor's hand caress his cheek as tears began to stream down from his eyes when the other spoke softly, "...I loved you significantly more than she ever could" Jayce's heart shattered. 

He wanted to believe him, but the memories of what he saw in the other dimension returned to haunt him. 

Jayce needed to stop him before it was too late for all Piltover and Zaun alike. 

He closed his eyes shut because he could not bear to look at Viktor's face and fired. 

The deafening thunder that followed the shot left space to an even ear-shattering silence.

Viktor was lying on the ground, barely breathing, a big hole carved into his chest.

Jayce stepped closer, the tears created a thick fog in front of his eyes and kneeled beside his former partner.

"I'm so sorry Viktor. I didn't mean... I just couldn't let you do this, not again." He sobbed, resting his shaking hands on Viktor's cheeks until the other closed his eyes.

And outside hell unleashed.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

MY FANFIC MASTERLIST

Requests are still open but I'm SLOW. See this post for info!

AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS:

Shadow in the sands - Female OC x Phileas Fogg Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (coming soon)

STRANGER THINGS:

Tattoo - Eddie Munson x Female Reader Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

ALAN WAKE 1 & 2

Little Prey (NSFW) - Mr. Scratch x Unnamed OC

Oh, nevermind. Scratch that. - Thomas Zane x Female OC Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (coming soon)

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY:

Vanya x Reader - Klaus x Reader - Diego x Reader

ENCANTO (DISNEY):

Things I love about you (NSFW) - Bruno Madrigal x Female Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Green Bright Future (fanfic request) - Bruno Madrigal x Reader

Mi Futuro - Bruno Madrigal x Visually impaired Reader

Your Colours (Soulmate AU) - Bruno Madrigal x Reader

Birthmark (Soulmate AU) - Bruno Madrigal X Reader

FALLOUT:

Rubber Toys & Fun (NSFW) - John Hancock x Female Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (coming soon)

His everloving dark star (NSFW) - John Hancock x Vampire OC

SPIDERVERSE:

Shadows of insecurity - Miguel 0'Hara, Peter Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy

In-flu-ence - Spiderman Noir & Reader

ARCANE:

Echoes of lost salvation - Jayce Talis x Viktor (NSFW)

Glowing Crystals & Voided Minds (NSFW)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (coming soon)

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

I had a dream about Arcane and now someone (me) has to write a fic about it.

When the little squad was going to rob Jayce's lab, he returned a bit earlier, catching them on the act. He was obviously mad at them and was about to send them all out and call the guards but then he noticed little Powder being totally amazed by every piece of tech she could lay her eyes on.

Something clicked in his head.

He sent the other kids at home and tested her skills until he realised how much of a genius she was.

He contacted the Academy, and Viktor was sent to examine her (first scolding Jayce for his dangerous and not-approved experiments) but decided that both needed to be under Himerdinger's wing.

So Powder had two additional older brothers who helped her to channel her big potential into something truly good.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

I'm having problems deciding if my Jayvik fic should be set in season one or season two after Jayce saved his life. Should Jayce love every one of Viktor's imperfections, or should he love his new body and tell him he's always been perfect anyway?? Am I going to write a multiple choice fic??? Arcane what did you do to me?

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Whenever I receive a request, I like to write a couple of lines to establish the mood of the fic I'll write, so this is a Jayvik fanfic sneak peek 👀

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Hello! I read "Things I love about you" and I'm hooked by your style. I know it's not on your list but I'll try anyway. Would you write a Jayvik fanfic? I just finished Arcane (S2) and I'm dying to read a fic where Jayce just worships Victor's body like he should have done. Smut is preferred, but you can do fluff, too, if you want.

Hello! Thank you so much 💕

I'm a little busy lately, and I have a lot of fics still in progress, but I'll write this! I love Arcane and Viktor is one of my fav characters. My boy deserves some love. Thank you for requesting this fic.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Hello everyone! I found a very old Fallout fanfic I wrote and I'm wondering if you might want to read it.

It's a Charon X Female OC, very graphic and full of smut.

The protagonist is Kate, the sole survivor of her whole family, attacked by a group of Supermutants while trying to escape from their Vault and the horrific experiments that were held there.

She then encounters Charon and buys his services to escort her on her journey to discover what happened to her family and fiancée.

It's written in my native tongue and it will take time to translate it to English but let me know if you would like to read it!

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

The Right one

°•°•—_—_—💠—_—_—•°•°

Summary: Misraaks looks at his beloved Guardian from afar and while he sees her holding a hatchling, something clicks inside him.

Warnings: None, unless kissing a big space lobster is a trigger for you.

°•°•—_—_—💠—_—_—•°•°

Misraaks stood quietly, observing as she wandered through the bustling marketplace, her movements purposeful as she examined fabrics and picked up a small lantern.

Her smile, simple and warm, was enough to make him smile as well, even though she wasn’t aware of his presence.

She had none of the traits that an Eliksni might typically admire—just two arms, two eyes, and soft skin without the protection of an exoskeleton.

And yet, in Misraaks' eyes, she was perfect just as she was.

It was rare to see her without her armour.

Today, she wore civilian clothes—a simple leather jacket, a sweater, and pants.

She looked almost vulnerable, but it suited her.

As she conversed with a merchant, Misraaks noticed the merchant had one of his younglings strapped on them, who stretched their small arms toward her, curious.

Misraaks felt the merchant apologize, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

She offered her hand to the young Eliksni, allowing the child to play with her fingers.

The sight of her laughing softly as she interacted with the child touched something deep within Misraaks.

After a moment, she even picked up the little one, holding them close, her arms moving in a slow, rhythmic motion.

Misraaks tilted his head, intrigued by the gesture, a human custom that seemed so foreign, yet so tender.

Once she finished her conversation with the merchant, she returned the child, exchanged a few polite words, and continued on her way, heading toward Eido’s laboratory.

Misraaks quickly moved to take his place near his medical Servitor, as he didn't want her to catch him staring.

A moment later, her voice echoed softly through the room. "Eido? Are you here?"

“No, Lightbearer,” Misraaks answered, his voice calm. “She is out gathering ingredients for her tonics.”

She smiled at him, that same smile that seemed to brighten even his recurring darkest thoughts.

Misraaks couldn’t shake the image of her holding the child, swaying gently.

"How are you feeling today, Ge?" Her tone was gentle and filled with concern.

Misraaks hesitated, then sighed, lowering his gaze. “It could be better.”

When she asked if there was anything she could do to help, he shook his head.

But as she began to turn to leave, something inside him compelled him to speak. "Guardian, may I ask you something?"

She paused, looking back at him "Of course."

“I'm embarrassed to say that...I was looking at you, at the market. That movement you made earlier,” Misraaks said, his voice almost tentative. “With the child. What was that?”

A flicker of confusion crossed her features before understanding dawned. “Oh, I was rocking him. It’s something humans do to comfort babies, to help them feel safe.”

The explanation hit Misraaks harder than he expected.

The kindness she had shown, not just to a child, but to a child of his kind, touched him deeply.

“You don’t have any children,” Misraaks observed softly. “Would you want some?”

The question felt bold, perhaps too bold, but he knew time was not on his side, and he couldn’t keep such thoughts to himself much longer.

She smiled, though it was softer this time, more thoughtful. “Maybe one day. If I find the right person,” she replied honestly.

Misraaks couldn’t help the words that slipped from his mouth next. “And... what if it was the right Eliksni?”

There was a moment of silence between them that felt like eons.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable at first, but then she blushed slightly, her gaze lowering as she pondered his words. "I don’t know," she admitted softly. "I think I would love to... even if they couldn’t be biologically mine."

Misraaks noted the light in her eyes when she spoke of children. It stirred something deep within him.

The Lightbearer cheeks, Misraaks noted, were now a brighter shade of pink; her eyes were wide, and she nervously bit her lower lip.

“Guardian,” he began, his voice failing him. He swallowed hard, summoning the courage. “I-I must tell you something of extreme importance. I know that I'm the shadow of myself right now and—”

Before he could finish, she interrupted with a firm but gentle response. “I love you too, Misraaks. The answer is yes.”

Her words struck him like a bolt of electricity.

He hadn’t expected such directness.

"I was very obvious, didn't I?" he whispered, his voice raw.

"I guess we both were. I...felt this way for a long time now. Since the Endless Night," she confessed.

"I didn't expected you to reciprocate my feelings. Now I don't know what to say..." Misraaks rubbed two hands together, trying to find the words.

She stepped closer to him, and Misraaks felt his heart begin to race.

There was a nervous tension in the air, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

He braced himself as she reached for the armor plates on his chest, her eyes full of quiet curiosity.

“May I?” she asked softly, her fingers hovering near his mask.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes... you may.”

As she carefully undid the straps of his mask,

Misraaks closed his eyes, feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with physical vulnerability.

He heard the faint click as the mask came loose, and then felt her gentle touch, her lips pressing softly against his jaw and neck.

A low sound escaped his throat, half-surprise, half-pleasure.

Misraaks breathed deeply, his voice a soft rasp. “If you keep this up...the evening will take an interesting turn” His voice sounded different without the mask’s filter.

She smiled at him, her lips brushing against his skin again. “Oh, already worked up?” she asked, teasing him.

“For you, yes” Misraaks whispered, leaning into her touch, the tension in his body giving way to something else entirely.

But before they could continue, a cheerful voice interrupted them.

“Father! I’ve returned!”

Eido’s voice broke the moment, and both Misraaks and the Guardian pulled back, startled.

They exchanged a quick, embarrassed glance as Eido stepped into the room, a basket of any kind of bottles and ingredients in her arms.

She looked at them curiously, clearly sensing that something was off, but said nothing.

The Lightbearer smiled, stepping forward to greet her. "Eido! I was looking for you."

Eido looked at her, a bit puzzled, but nodded.

"I've returned with some ingredients for the tonics," she said, holding up the basket. "I hope they're what you needed."

The Guardian nodded, "Yes, they are perfect."

As Eido set down the basket, she couldn't help but feel a strange energy in the air.

Eyeing Misraaks and the Lightbearer, she noticed her flushed state and the way they seemed to be avoiding eye contact with each other. "Is everything alright?"

Misraaks cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Yes, everything is fine Eido. We were just discussing our tasks for the evening."

Eido looked at them both curiously, but decided not to push further. "Alright then," she said, picking up the basket again"

Misraaks watched the Guardian preparing the tonics she needed with Eido's aid and when she finished, she bid them goodbye and leaved.

The two Eliksni whatched her go, then Eido turned to his father.

"... isn't that the Guardian's lipstick on your neck?"

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

BIRTHMARK

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Request:

The female reader is from another village with her own magic family. She has her powers (ice, blizzard, or weather ish powers would be fun to clash with Pepa), and the families meet at Casita to discuss the miracle.

Pairing: Bruno x FEM!reader.

Type: fluff, soulmate marks AU

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You were tired from your journey, the muscles of your legs were sore for the long time you spend on your horse, It was two days before that you left your village with a purpose in your mind and heart: find your soulmate.

In your native land, doesn't matter how much you searched, no one had the same birthmark.

It was shaped like a small bowtie or an infinite symbol, bright red and marking your right wrist.

At first, you thought that your soulmate was in one of the near villages but as soon as your research goes the result didn't change.

You imagined the worst scenarios, and your family and friends told you their ideas.

"Maybe your soulmates is unfortunately dead"

"Maybe he's born in another time, maybe a century ago or maybe he isn't born yet!"

"You just have to find him!"

So your research took you away from home, too far away to go back and simply let go, sure you could have found another person but it wouldn't be the same kind of love, because the one between two soulmates is an indissoluble bond.

You almost fell asleep while riding your horse's back and maybe you did, because all of the sudden you were right in front of an enormous mountain and you slowly arrived at the top.

The view that opened in front of your eyes was breathtaking.

A small colourful village was surrounded by high mountains like the one you had just passed through, the flourishing vegetation was vibrant and you could see a very big house on the top of a small hill.

Deciding that you had enough of riding around you headed for the crowded village, people were staring curiously at you and you kindly greeted them asking if there was an Inn where you could eat and rest.

A kind woman gave you the directions and you rasped "thanks, señora" you were thirsty to no end and the first thing you wanted was a cold glass of water.

You tied your horse in a nearby paddock so she could eat, drink and rest, you patted her brown coat and caressed her soft black mane.

Once entered the Inn, a scent of coffee filled your nose, you kindly asked for your order and the bartender, a young boy not probably old enough to work there, handed you a glass full of still water.

But it was not cold.

"I guess I have to do it by myself" you mumbled grasping the glass and concentrating.

In an instant, the water became ice-cold, condensation dripped from the glass and the boy looked at you with amazed eyes.

"Wow! How can you do that? You're like Pepa!" He told you.

"It's a gift fro-" then realization hit you, he said that someone could do the same thing "Who's Pepa?" You asked.

"Pepa Madrigal! Everyone knows her here, but you're not from Encanto. She's my friend's mamá, she can change the weather." the boy explained.

"Where can I find her?" You question, drinking your water.

"The big villa at the end of the road, it's the Madrigals house" he said making a nod towards the direction.

"Thank you. Do you have a room for rent or do you know where I can find one? I'm tired to death" you smiled weakly.

"There's a room upstairs but I have to call the owner for that" he disappeared into another room and came back with a short chubby man who was revealed to be the kind owner of the Inn, you talked to him a bit, paid for the room and get upstairs.

The room was quite nice and smelled of lavender, the walls were in yellow stucco, wooden furniture, a big window and a small bathroom, the bed was comfy but creaky but you couldn't care less because as your head touched the pillow you fell asleep.

The next day you took a bath, dressed in clean clothes and after a good breakfast, you decided to go to check your horse.

Returning to the paddock you were not prepared for the scene in front of you.

A tall muscular girl was carrying two mules on her shoulders without the minimum effort like they weighed a couple of grapes, she noticed you, and most of all she noticed you staring and became uneasy.

"Hum, good morning...do you need something?" She asked, placing one mule on the ground.

"Good morning, I was about to check on my horse, sorry for interrupting" you said politely.

She extended her free hand "I'm Luisa Madrigal".

"Oh, another Madrigal" you thought, but responded instead "Y/N, really nice to meet you" and you shook her hand.

You expected that your hand would be almost crushed but her hand just gave you a light squeeze, she was gentle and feminine despite her impending physical shape and it suited her very well.

Luisa, for her part, made a strange expression when her eyes briefly rested on your wrist, where your birthmark was, the muscles of her right eye trembled.

You made sure that your horse was fine before asking "I'm coming from another village, as you could have imagined. I'm searching for my soulmate, do you know someone with this birthmark?" You showed your wrist.

Her eye trembled again, you guessed it was a nervous tick.

"No, I'm sorry" she answered quickly, too much.

Suddenly you felt someone grabbing your arm, you gasped in surprise.

Inspecting your birthmark, was a young boy with brown curly hair and green eyes, he was wearing a yellow ruana, his nose scrunched in concentration.

"I kind of remember this one but I can't pinpoint on who I saw it on..." he mumbled.

"Camilo! I don't think she needs your help." Luisa said through gritted teeth.

"What? I can take people's appearance, if you let me check I could help her!" He answered like for him not helping someone in difficulty was an affront.

You saw him shapeshift from one person to another in rapid succession, checking his wrist that wasn't looking his most of the time.

Feeling a bit confused you stopped him.

"You're a Madrigal too?" He nodded, turning into himself "I wish to talk to your whole family. It seems your village and mine have something in common".

That evening you made the acquaintance of the whole Madrigal family, especially of Alma, who explained to you how in a moment of despair she received the miracle and how the candle gave each member of the familia a special gift, everyone except Mirabel, who in your opinion, was the sweetest and cheerful of the family.

At dinner you chatted with everyone, even if you had the vague sensation that something was off, visiting the house you counted 9 magical doors but only 8 gift-bearing members were sitting at the table.

" What about you? You mentioned that magic exists in your village" Mirabel questioned.

"When my mother was five years old, our village suffered from a huge famine, it hadn't rained for months and not a single thread of grass could grow in the fields. Just when they thought they had lost all hope, the rain came, but it was not regular rain. With every drop the earth was awakened, the fields became luxuriant, the plants blossomed and filled with fruit and even the people who found themselves under the downpour were healed." you narrated.

"It was a miracle!" Exclaimed Antonio, while with the corner of your eye you saw Alma whispering something to her daughter Julieta.

"Yes it was, and you know what's extraordinary? The rain filled the old big fountain in the backyard of my grandma's house, the water inside cannot be exhausted, no matter how much you get it, the fountain is always overflowing. Each newborn is bathed in the water of the fountain because it will give them a life free of any disease. Sometimes, the water also grants powers, as happened to me and my family." Saying so, with a swirl of your fingers, you created an ice statue of a tucan on the centre of the dining table.

Pepa was amazed and with pride, she showed the raging storm that was forming on her head, clouds swirled and darkened as little lighting threatened to zap his husband.

"By the way, I'm not here to show off my abilities, I'm here to find my soulmate. Do you know someone with this birthmark in the same place?" You implored showing the symbol to the family.

Agustìn coughed, Luisa's eye trembled, Felix looked elsewhere, Isabela grew a cactus in the centre of her plate, Julieta reddened, Dolores was fakingly concentrated on her food while the clouds on Pepa's head transformed into a snowstorm.

Alma was looking like all the blood was drained from her body and sighed.

"Come with me" she told you, raising sharply from her chair.

She accompanied you in front of a door, like the others it was inlaid with the figure of a member of the family but it was not glowing, on the top was the name of her only son.

"Bruno" you read.

"To my son, the candle gave a humbling gift, he can see the future and this brought only pain and suffering to this family. He left 10 years ago and no one saw him ever since." Alma pointed at the figure on the door "check more closely" she instructed you.

You approached the door, looking better at the details until you find it.

On Bruno's wrist was inlaid a birthmark, shaped exactly like yours, your heart started to hammer in your chest and you felt that the air was suddenly not enough.

"It's shaped like an hourglass." the woman told you.

You never realized it, mistaking the shape for something else but when she pointed out it was pretty obvious.

A heavy silence fell in the house.

"I can't help you, my dear" Alma was sorrowful " I would like to have my son back too," she said before excusing herself and returning to her family.

You followed her, thanked everyone for their gentle hospitality and left the house to return to the Inn for the night.

You passed more days in Encanto, asking about Bruno, but no one was willing to talk about him.

Somebody told you he was a walking nightmare, someone said he was mean and others were simply scared.

You were eating an arepa, wandering through the streets of the village, kicking some stones that were in your path as you proceeded, one of the said stones rolled down and under a shrub from which you heard a squeaking sound.

A small rat was between the green leaves of the bush.

"Sorry, little friend. How about an apology gift?" You asked rhetorically at the animal, placing a piece of your arepa on the ground.

The rodent quickly took the offered food and sprinted away, but soon it stopped and looked back at you hesitantly.

You made some steps toward the rat and it repeated the previous behaviour.

"Okay, I'm following a rat now" you mumbled.

You follow it, turning several streets and ending up immersed in some vegetation, once you emerged you realized that you were in the garden of the Madrigals' house and the mouse slipped into a narrow hole in a wall just wide enough for a person of small stature to pass.

You squeezed through the tight space, crawling in the dark until you found yourself between the house walls.

You saw patched cracks and buckets of paint and sparkle, the floors creaked under your feet and you heard a voice.

"Mirabel? Is that you?" Asked a man with a kind and hushed voice "10 years without no one knowing I'm here and now..." You heard him murmuring.

Finding a wooden door, you knocked twice, feeling a bit out of place because you were in someone else's house, precisely in the walls, knocking on a door.

"Mira, I think that my vision about-" he opened the door staring with wide eyes at you.

Standing in the doorway was Bruno, an inch taller than you and weighted like a wet fledgling, his overgrown black curly hair was framing his face, tired hazel eyes were fixed on yours, mouth opened in surprise.

He was so much better than you've ever dreamed.

"Bruno, I-" you started but he swiftly moved to close the door but you tried to stop him.

"Please let me explain!" You shouted.

"Who are you?" He asked frightened.

"My name is Y/N, I know this is crazy but I'm your soulmate, please open the door," you explained, resting your forehead on the door.

He opened it just a crack to peek "Show me your birthmark" he demanded.

You tried to uncover your wrist, your heart was about to explode, fingers trembling as you unbutton the right cuff of your shirt.

Eventually, you succeeded and Bruno finally opened the door to let you in.

The room was filled with tons of objects, some of them were reused for other purposes, a bunch of rats were sleeping in old slippers and some of them were intrigued by your presence, watching you from shelves and wooden beams.

"Hum, sorry. My-my social skills are...well, a bit rusty I suppose. I apologize for the door slamming and the suspicious manners. Only my niece and my youngest Sobrino know that I live here..." He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

"I'm a stranger, you were just wary for the right reason." he made you sit in his armchair while you spoke to him "I came here to find my soulmate...and I found you"

"Pretty delusional, I think!" he said sincerely, knocking three times on wood items and one on his head.

You smiled at the superstitious gesture "Not at all" he froze on the spot and slowly looked back at you, maybe he thought you were joking.

You chatted a lot, Bruno liked talking and he narrated to you his whole story, from the day he got his so much hated gift to the day he isolated himself for the love of his family.

You fell in love more with every passing minute, the way he moved, talked and joked was enchanting to you as was the way he cared for the others Madrigals, he has nothing to do with the man the persons of Encanto described.

You told him about your journey, all the villages you visited and how you found Encanto by coincidence.

He listened to every single word that came out of your mouth, sitting on a table and casually petting and feeding some rats in the meantime.

Bruno was more relaxed by the time you finished talking and was absently rubbing his birthmark with a finger while looking at yours, you reached for his wrist and his breath itched.

"Can I touch you?" You asked and he nodded "Shaped like an hourglass, how fitting" you commented, moving your hand slowly from his wrist to his forearm, caressing warm skin.

He shuddered but didn't pull away "Soulmates have a sort of magic bond or so I heard, something that pulled them together, no matter how far they are, they always find each other" Bruno whispered.

"Indeed. I found you and I'm not planning on letting you go" you chuckled.

He was staring at you like a lost puppy that finally found his family again, hurt and desperate but also relieved and happy.

You placed your hands on his cheeks and lean closer until only an inch was separating your lips from his.

"You shouldn't" he murmured, eyes closed, bumping gently his forehead against yours "But I want it" you answered back.

You closed the gap, pressing your lips softly on Bruno's, a strangled whimper came from his throat as he clung to you as if his life depended on it.

He spun you around, making you sit on the table where he previously was and deepened the kiss.

"Sorry, too much?" He said suddenly separating from you, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

"Oh, that was fine by me" you chucked, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

A loud terrifying and crackling noise tore through the air.

"Pepa's storm?" You wondered confused.

Bruno grabbed your hand scared like never before in his life.

"Run! Run outside Y/N! I'll be right behind you in a second! RUN!" he cried out pushing you out of the room.

The house was falling, cracks were forming everywhere as you moved as fast as you could.

Once you were outside you watched the walls crumble down, Bruno escaped a few seconds later, wearing a bucket as a helmet.

You immediately checked his body for injuries, throwing away the bucket and inspecting his head.

"You're all right?" You demanded scared to the bones.

"Just a couple of scratches, I'm fine but...my vision came true" he sighed "what are we going to do?"

"MIRABEL?" The two of you heard calling.

"MIRABEL?WHERE ARE YOU?" Called Julieta.

Once you understood that Mirabel was not under the debris of the house, the family and you started searching for her.

You took your horse and Bruno came with you, even if the animal scared him a bit, he didn't know how to ride but he managed anyway, sitting on her back behind you, hugging you tightly.

"I'm sorry you had to witness all of this," he said apologetically "I know I told you about my vision and you already knew my powers but-" you let go of the reins of your horse to hold his hands which at that moment were resting on your hips.

"Everything will be fine" you reassured him "look, isn't that Mirabel with Alma?" You pointed the two women by the river.

You dismounted but Bruno remained on the horse "Go to your family" and saying so you patted your horse rear and she started running.

The scene was a bit comical.

After Bruno, Alma and Mirabel returned and the family reunited, you and the generous people of Encanto helped the Madrigals in rebuilding their house.

You and your soulmate grew even close, stealing kisses in moments of pause and sleeping embraced at night, only to be affectionately mocked by Camilo the following day.

His family also became yours, Bruno's room was adapted to accommodate you and even on the entrance door, your figure was engraved.

You sent a letter to your family to inform them of how your life had changed and to invite them to meet the Madrigals and especially Bruno.

They were taken aback at first because they were not expecting another family with powers and they were not expecting a man much older than you to be your soulmate, but they saw the way you loved each other and changed immediately their ideas.

During the lunch with your reunited families, Bruno shyly stood up and cleared his throat.

"Hum I would like to make an announcement, that is, it is not an announcement but I think it will be ... soon. What I meant is ... " he turned to you, took your hands and made you stand up while he instead lowered with one knee to the ground"Y/N, my soulmate, you b-brought light into my life and this house, you saw in me what no one else could and I-I love you more every day. Will you marry me?"

Your whole life flashed in your mind, from the day when growing up you wondered who had your same birthmark when you understood that your love was not in your village and nowhere you searched him, to the day you found him and there he was down on one knee asking you to marry him and have a life together.

"Yes, of course, Bruno!" You cried with joy.

The whole family cheered and clapped their hands and you and Bruno kissed and hugged.

That was better than you could ever imagine.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

SHADOW IN THE SANDS

• · ──────· ⏳ ·──────· •

Summary:

Phileas Fogg and June Phillis Smith find themselves trapped in an ancient tomb after a mysterious collapse.

As they struggle to find an exit, their connection deepens.

• · ──────· ⏳ ·──────· •

Chapter 2

Phileas Fogg agreed to join June Phillis Smith in the excavations, feeling a strangely familiar sense of adventure pulling him once again.

The next day, they headed to the archaeological site with a team of researchers from various parts of the world and local labourers.

The desert sun was scorching as they began to dig.

June was in her element, overseeing every aspect of the excavations, from planning to execution, and didn't shy away from digging herself, moving heavy buckets of sand and debris.

Phileas, despite his initial disinterest in archaeology, found himself fascinated by her passion.

"FOGG! Come and see!" the archaeologist yelled.

Phileas rushed, stumbling over small dunes.

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"This is an Ushabti, these figurines are mainly part of funerary equipment. They represent servants meant to assist the pharaoh in the afterlife," she explained, extracting the small statue from the sand and delicately brushing off the grains with a brush from her old leather bag.

She then handed the Ushabti to Fogg.

"I don't think I should touch something so delicate," observed the gentleman.

"Nonsense," she replied, trying to grab his hand abruptly.

When she saw Phileas take half a step back, she tried again, more gently.

Fogg let her take his wrist, then turned his hand palm up, placing the small statue on it.

Phileas was genuinely afraid of breaking it but examined it with his delicate fingers.

"Does this mean there's a tomb nearby?" he inquired.

"I hope so; we've been searching for this tomb for years! We might have found what we're looking for this time. Gallagher, the man I debunked about the authenticity of Cleopatra's mummy, would be even more furious. Maybe you bring good luck, Mr. Fogg," she winked, and he visibly blushed from head to toe.

They were about to head to the researchers' tent when a noise made them both stop.

"What was that?" Fogg asked, looking down, between the sand and the excavation equipment.

It was a dull noise of cracking stone.

The next moment, they were plummeting into the void.

June regained consciousness, the pain in her head and the constant ringing in her ears clouding her mind.

She got up from what seemed like a paved floor, but the darkness was almost total.

"DARN!" she shouted in silence, kicking the thick layer of sand and dust. "We're stuck!"

"Mr. Fogg?" she asked, her voice trembling, and the sound echoed. The response came in the form of a choked groan, and the archaeologist fumbled her way until she found the source.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Phileas said when he felt her close.

June, with her usual energy, tried to examine the tomb's structure to find an exit, but every attempt seemed futile. It was too dark due to the collapsed roof.

Fogg, usually impassive, couldn't hide a slight concern on his face, aware of the seriousness of the situation.

He sat with his back against the ancient rock, in total silence.

"I'll keep looking for a way out; there must be something," murmured June.

Crawling on the ground to avoid tripping, she felt something solid against her boot, so she bent down to see what it was.

She was surprised to find not a rock but what seemed to be a bag.

"There are excavation tools in here, a water bottle, and... Oh, you won't believe it," she laughed.

She turned and immediately illuminated the room with a flashlight.

The light bounced off the white walls adorned with hieroglyphs.

"Incredible," she smiled, "this tomb is in perfect condition. I wonder where the sarcophagus and funerary equipment are."

Despite the critical situation, Fogg found himself smiling too, noting Miss Smith's radiant expression, covered in dust from head to toe.

"It would be nice if we could also find a way out," he said, standing up, "the owner of this tomb probably doesn't need company; he already has his servants, it seems."

June turned with a questioning look, pointing the flashlight at Phileas's handsome face.

He was indicating a niche full of Ushabti that originally must have been inside a now deteriorated wooden crate, and behind them was a passage large enough for them to crawl through.

The couple ventured deeper into the tomb, reaching a vast room with a high ceiling adorned with intricate starry designs.

In the center of the room, an imposing structure drew their attention: the deceased's sarcophagus, adorned with richly detailed symbols and images.

June examined the structure but tried to contain her enthusiasm.

"It's incredible, but we need to figure out how to get out of here before the situation worsens," said Fogg.

"It seems there's nothing that can lead us outside. These tombs were well sealed to prevent tomb raiders from looting the treasures," explained June.

"I feared you would say that," he sighed.

The flashlight began to run out of power.

Occasionally, June kept it off to save the batteries.

Hours must have passed since their incident, and still, they couldn't hear the sounds of excavation or the voices of the workers.

The heat had become even more stifling than on the surface due to the rarefied air, and Phileas began to feel unwell.

June could sense his breaths becoming short and fast, and at that pace, he would faint soon.

"Mr. Fogg, listen to me. Do as I say," she groped for his shoulder in the dark to reassure him, finding it tense and trembling.

"Inhale, wait a couple of seconds, inhale deeply again until you can't take in any more air. Hold your breath for another two seconds and exhale slowly," she explained firmly.

She did the same to help him through the process. Her hand slid from his shoulder to the elbow, then down to his hand, resting on the ground.

As before, she took it gently, placing it on her chest to let him feel the correct way to breathe.

Phileas let her do it; it was so reassuring to have someone so decisive and quick-witted.

Eventually, after many controlled breaths, he calmed down.

"You know, Mr. Fogg," she began, "being stuck here with you isn't so bad." She confessed, and Phineas felt butterflies in his stomach like a teenager in his first infatuation. "But you can't know how sorry I am for putting you in this situation."

Phileas Fogg was truly the most interesting person she had ever met, perhaps because he didn't try to be what he wasn't.

June had met many wealthy men like him, scholars, scientists, and fellow archaeologists, but all so arrogant and full of themselves that they became boring after the first minute of conversation.

"Miss Smith, I have spent 20 years of my life doing the same things every day, never deviating from my plans and never stopping for a second to appreciate the beautiful things that flowed before me" He took a handful of sand and let it slide between his fingers "exactly like these grains, my days have slipped between matches of whist and dinners at the Reform Club. I don't regret this trip or even having followed you this far"

June listened to him carefully in silence, she didn't know whether to voice her thoughts or remain silent.

"Mr Fogg..." she took a deep breath.

For her, he wasn't just frighteningly handsome; he also had a kind soul that desired nothing but affection.

Still, he was so scared to ask for it that he preferred to go without and suffer in silence.

She had understood it immediately as if she had known him forever.

"I'll get us out of here," she sighed, continuing her search.

Phileas watched as June wandered around the room. The flashlight now emitted a dim light, but it was enough for her to move freely.

She checked every wall, every crevice, and possible passage, refusing to surrender to the evidence.

June was steadfast and determined, beautiful and fearless.

Phileas felt almost intimidated by her.

She was a magnetic woman, and he wondered how it was possible that there wasn't a line of suitors ready to propose to her, or maybe she had rejected them all, sending them away because she didn't need them.

He held a deep admiration for her.

Phileas tried not to look as June unbuttoned her vest and shirt, remaining in trousers and her shift, but he couldn't divert his gaze.

"Mr. Fogg, I don't know how you manage to endure the heat, but if I were you, I'd at least take off the jacket," she suggested.

Phileas agreed, attempting to remove the dusty beige jacket from his shoulders.

"Let me help," she said, and he felt June's hands assisting him in the process. Once the jacket was off, he turned.

He swore the temperature became even hotter.

He was fairly certain that June felt the strong shiver that ran through him like an electric shock down his spine.

"Thank you," he said, taking his jacket from June's hands.

"Don't you like being touched?" She asked, pretending it was a casual question and not something she was dying to know.

"No, I don't appreciate it much..." he confessed.

June felt mortified.

She had touched him without asking for permission.

"But you can do it," he said with a faint voice, so feeble that June thought she might have imagined it.

However, Phileas's face said it all—blush on his cheeks, his large dark eyes looking sad, and for a moment, he stared at June's mouth.

The archaeologist tentatively raised a hand and placed it on Phileas's cheek and he tilted his head toward it, closing his eyes.

"Mr. Fogg?" she asked, brushing his lips with her thumb. "Can I kiss you?"

Phileas released a trembling sigh and, without breaking eye contact, nodded.

A part of him was screaming to back away from her, that he did not deserve that: caresses and kindness, kisses and sweet words.

The other part was simply screaming and screaming for it.

Suddenly, the tomb's roof collapsed with a deafening noise, raising a dust cloud.

"Miss Smith," the man at the top said, "if I were you, I'd raise my hands." He pointed a gun at them and lowered a rope. "And Mr. Phileas Fogg! I hit the jackpot."

"Gallagher," June, with her resourcefulness, spat in his direction.

"Ms. Smith, that man is armed," Fogg whispered.

"He wouldn't know how to shoot a target half a meter away," she mocked him.

The shot embedded itself near Phileas's foot.

"Alright!" the archaeologist yelled. "We'll come with you."

"June, June, June... The rope isn't for you to climb but for me to descend. This will be your tomb as well."

To be continued...

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Alan Wake 2 second DLC has something to do with a painter.

It's a nice idea, isn't it Remedy?

I know.

I'm still trying to finish my fanfic about a painter named Alvia Sherwood that I started last year.

So I'm sort of a writer, stuck with a writer's block while writing about a painter.

Oh, the irony.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

FIRST AND LAST

· · ─────── ·♠️· ─────── · ·

Warnings: canon character death, dark fic.

Summary: The first and the last time you saw Cayde, from the point of view of your Ghost.

FIRST:

It was a day like so many, many others.

I had already scoured the Earth countless times, but I had never been in that part of Old Russia.

For some reason, I felt drawn to the ruins of a highway, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.

I tried to stay cautious; the area was crawling with Fallen, but I managed to slip by unnoticed.

The rusted carcasses of cars still held a few piles of bones, untouched by centuries of decay.

It was in one of them that I found you.

You were nothing more than a shattered skull and a handful of vertebrae, yet I could feel it, I knew it was YOU.

At the mere sight of you, my Light grew stronger and brighter than ever.

“There you are,” I said, before expanding my petals in a flash of light.

I rebuilt your body as if it were a puzzle I had always known, bone by bone, ligament by ligament, muscle by muscle.

I focused my Light to craft clothes for you, as you shivered from the cold after your first breath.

I had imagined your face, your voice, your eyes many times, but nothing could be more perfect than what I saw before me.

You asked me who I was, but there was no understanding in your expression when I answered, though a smile still spread across your face.

The Fallen, not far from us, saw us, raised the alarm, and we were forced to flee.

The half-destroyed ship was a real stroke of luck, and during the return trip, I couldn’t look at anything but you, even though I should have been piloting us back home.

Home. The Tower.

When we arrived, everyone welcomed you, but you still couldn’t quite understand.

A hand on your shoulder made you turn, and pure astonishment painted your face.

"Ah-ha! New Light, welcome to the Hunters," Cayde-6 said to you, and you thanked him with a faint voice, but he heard you all the same, "You're welcome, kid. See ya!" he answered before turning away, his cloak following his fluid movement.

"I like him" you said genuinely, smiling.

LAST:

I will never forget the expression on your face.

I had seen you endure every kind of pain, from burns to bullet wounds, and even though some injuries had led to your temporary death, nothing compared to that.

Pain.

Intense and excruciating.

I could feel it through our bond; it was suffocating, closing your throat and locking up your lungs.

Cayde died, and I could do nothing to stop it, and I could do nothing for you either, except stay by your side every second.

I remember you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him, as if placing your hands on his lifeless body would make everything more real.

Because it didn’t feel real to you; it couldn’t be.

I felt a chasm open up in your Light, a dark and bottomless pit, filled with the screams you wanted to let out, the words you wanted to say to him, and the things you never had time to do together.

You were the one who draped the shroud over his body at the funeral; your eyes were the last to see him.

That night, you begged me that if anything went wrong in your pursuit of fiery vengeance, I was not to revive you, because if he wasn’t with you anymore, then it was better for you to be with him.

--------

Damn, this is OLD. I found it in a dusty folder on my old PC and I thought I could post it here.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

SHADOW IN THE SANDS

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

Pairing:

Phileas Fogg X OC

Summary:

Phileas Fogg embarks on a new adventure, this time along the banks of the Nile. Amidst the heat of Egypt, Fogg encounters June Phillis Smith, a grumpy archaeologist.

Warnings: Phileas has some PTSD, just that... and some fluff.

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

Chapter 1

Phileas Fogg fanned himself with Mr. Cook's travel brochure; the boat taking him to Egypt was comfortable, yet nothing could save him from the infernal heat in his cabin.

Checking the time on his pocket watch, he reread Miss Fix and Passepartout's letter, smiling at the encouraging words they offered for his solo journey.

The Nile was calm, and he observed lush banks and palms from the window.

Dinner hour came as the sun descended behind the sandy desert horizon.

Most of his fellow diners were elderly, accompanied by their partners, friends, or acquaintances, engaging in conversation at the same table.

Fogg, on his part, sat alone, enjoying a tasty soup and praying not to stain his white and beige three-piece suit.

At a glance, he appeared to be the typical, dull English tourist – black shiny shoes, beige pants and jacket, white shirt, black suspenders, and tie.

But beneath that exterior was the man who circumnavigated the globe in 80 days, almost a second ahead of schedule.

He surveyed the room, habitually keeping an eye on the exits, and noticed a young woman vigorously fanning herself, elbows on her chair's back, legs crossed – and she was wearing pants!

Not that he was scandalized or unaware of the acceptance in some countries, but it intrigued him.

She spoke in a low but firm voice, exuding a mix of arrogance and confidence, not exactly characteristic of a lady.

Blushing, he recalled America, Sally, and her advances – she somehow reminded him of that. She didn't carry a purse but what seemed like a doctor's bag, well-worn and a bit dusty, matching her knee-high boots.

Perhaps Phileas stared a few seconds too long, and she, feeling observed, locked eyes with the adventurer.

She raised her free hand in a gesture, and Fogg weakly smiled, nodding in greeting. Dinner concluded smoothly, and Phileas retired to his room, arranging his belongings and clothes for the next day before sinking into Morpheus' embrace.

All he saw was a stone pillar, wrists aching from shackles, the high sun scorching his fair skin.

Behind him, he could hear Abigail and Passepartout's shouts; he knew they would come to save him.

The lashes wouldn't arrive because they were there to rescue him from that unjust punishment.

But the lash came – one.

The voices were now closer, speaking of a document for his pardon, proof of his innocence – two.

The voices vanished, leaving only silence – three.

Everything turned dark – four.

Phileas jolted awake in a sweat-soaked state; the hypertrophic scar occasionally ached but never with such intensity.

He rose barefoot, splashing his face in the now tepid basin.

Examining his reflection in the small oval mirror, his face twisted in a grimace, sleep still lingering in his eyes, and his brown hair in a terrible tangle pointing in all directions.

Unbuttoning a few buttons of his pajama shirt, he returned to bed but couldn't find sleep.

Morning arrived with agonizing slowness, making Fogg wonder if it would ever come. Soon they would dock, and once ashore, he would reach the Cairo hotel he had booked through the agency.

"What do you mean you can't find your reservation?" asked Fogg, agitated.

"As I said, I'm mortified, sir, but I have no reservation under the name Phileas Fogg," the concierge behind the counter was sweating, not just from the heat, continuously leafing through the hefty register, trying not to panic.

"I booked through Mr. Cook's agency; this service should prevent things like this from happening!" he exclaimed exasperated.

The incident had attracted the attention of other guests in the hotel lobby—some pretending not to notice, others openly expressing their displeasure.

One noise, however, prevailed over all: an exaggerated throat-clearing by a woman.

Fogg turned and saw her visibly impatient, arms crossed, and one eyebrow raised. "Can someone tell me what's going on?" she asked annoyed.

"Excuse me, Miss...?" the lobby boy asked.

"June Phillis Smith. I have a reservation under my name, or at least I hope so given what's happening in this place," she said, approaching the counter, nudging Fogg aside.

"Miss Smith, of course! I have a suite booked for you.

Please forgive me for asking, do you think your father will join us today?"

"Don't count on it. That old sponge probably fell into the Nile and will likely manage to drink it dry.

Good thing for the gentleman here," June said, nudging Fogg lightly.

Phileas, already fed up with the situation and contemplating telegraphing the London agency, was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by that last part of the conversation.

He turned sharply, looking at the woman with a questioning expression.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"You seem like a gentleman. Can you share the room with me while this young man sorts out this unfortunate misunderstanding, shall we?" She shot such a terrible look at the boy that he shrank several inches, wishing he could disappear behind the counter.

Without waiting for Fogg's response, she whistled for the bellboy and instructed him to take her guest's luggage to her room.

She accompanied them to the door of Miss Smith's suite.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Fogg. I have some business to attend to. I'm sure you'll have your room by tonight," she said and walked away in the direction she came, leaving him alone in the spacious suite.

The room was airy and well-furnished, not overly opulent, with a good dose of local influence.

Two single beds were separated by elegant bedside tables.

Several newspapers were on the table near one of the windows, and with plenty of time on his hands, Phileas sat down to read, flipping through the printed pages.

One particular article caught his attention, accompanied by a photograph and bold letters for the headline.

"The Mummy of Cleopatra is a Fake," the article proclaimed, and it continued, "Archaeologist June Phillis Smith claims, after numerous scrupulous analyses, that the alleged Cleopatra mummy is a forgery. The scholar recognized the counterfeit due to the minimal wear on the linen bandages covering the fake mummy and the errors in the hieroglyphs, which initially convinced her colleagues at the London Institute of Archaeology to confirm the authenticity of the find." Fogg read the article with great interest.

Archaeology wasn't something that particularly interested him, being a lover of progress and new technologies, but he found the reading quite captivating, shedding light on his gruff yet helpful fellow guest.

It was around dinner time when she entered the room, and Fogg wished she had arrived at a more opportune moment for him.

Phileas was immersed in the bathtub, cursing himself for leaving his dinner clothes neatly laid out on the bed, as was his habit.

He sank a bit deeper into the warm water.

"Mr. Fogg, are you here?" asked Miss Smith.

"I'm...in the bath. If you would be so kind—" he paused.

He couldn't ask her to leave the room; it was hers, but he couldn't walk out of the bath naked in front of a lady.

"Tell me," she encouraged.

"If you would be so kind as to...not look while I get out, I would be grateful," he said with considerable embarrassment.

June gave her word as a gentlewoman and positioned herself in front of the window, observing the gardens outside, people strolling in the shade, and children playing happily.

Phileas rose from the tub, wrapped in a robe, and entered the room, where he saw Miss Smith facing away.

Finally, he could look at her without meeting her gaze.

She wore brown trousers, a white shirt with wide sleeves, and a dark gray corset.

Her long black hair was gathered in a somewhat disheveled braid, giving her the appearance of someone who hadn't been sitting indoors all afternoon drinking tea but rather under the sun, excavating ruins.

Determined to quickly change his state of undress, he discarded the robe and began to dress.

June, for her part, stood still and silent.

As enchanting as the scenery outside was, she found it much more interesting to discover that the window glass reflected the room behind her very well.

She fixed her eyes on the Englishman's body; never in her life had she seen anything more beautiful.

She found Fogg's proportions so perfect that not even the most exquisite and refined painter or sculptor could have done better.

Starting from his finely chiseled face, down the long and elegant neck, broad shoulders, narrow yet curvy waist, Apollo's dimples, and slender legs.

However, she almost jumped when she saw the long scar on his back, wondering what could have caused such trauma and how much it must have hurt.

"I read an article about your discovery, Miss Smith," Phileas began, buttoning his shirt.

"You're a very capable archaeologist if you managed to uncover a fake."

"Journalists make it sound easy," she sighed, "but I had to fight to prove I was right.

Most of my colleagues are old men with heads harder than granite." She clenched her fists in her pockets.

"I completely understand what you're talking about," he chuckled.

"Your friends from the Reform Club, I presume. I know who you are, Mr. Fogg; your reputation precedes you," she said, turning.

Fogg, now fully dressed, gave her a shy smile, and a rosy tint colored his cheeks.

"Would it be inappropriate if I invited you to dine with me tonight?" He found himself saying it before even thinking, surprised at himself "As a way to repay your hospitality."

"With great pleasure," she replied with one of her rare smiles.

June also took a bath and changed her outfit.

Again, she didn't wear a dress but an elegant suit. During dinner, she asked about his incredible journey with genuine curiosity, being an attentive listener.

She interrupted only to ask relevant questions about the journey or different cultures.

Once again, she displayed her peculiar manners, keeping her elbows on the table, sometimes talking with her mouth full, or wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Enough about me, or you'll make me seem like a boring egocentric living on past glories. Tell me about yourself, please," Fogg requested. When the conversation shifted towards archaeology, a significant transformation occurred.

Miss Smith's eyes lit up, and her demeanor shifted from gruff to animated.

She shared her story of how her father had taught her everything he knew, how she had decided to pursue studies and her career, and how until recently, she had been underestimated by friends and colleagues.

She told stories of ancient artifacts, lost civilizations, and her passion for unraveling the mysteries of history.

Fogg, usually reserved, found himself fascinated by her enthusiasm.

June had such a light in her eyes that it was impossible to deny she was born for this—her passion and vocation.

"I'm here for excavations," she added. "I should have been here with my father, but he prefers the bottle to my company, now that I know more than him."

"But it's reprehensible," the adventurer commented.

"It is...don't get me wrong, my father is fundamentally a good man, but I can't wait for him while our permit for the excavations is ticking like a clock..."

She stopped and scrutinized Fogg's face for a few seconds.

"Join me in the excavations, if you want!" she said, pounding her fist on the table.

Phileas almost jumped but was glad to accept.