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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.5 Sakamaki Laito [Track 4]

Original title: 信じられるもの

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 5 Sakamaki Laito [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (37:53~53:32)

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: Laito talking about his true feelings for the MC is honestly A+ content. As much as his HDB route disturbs me and the whole ‘nfu~’ thing doesn’t do it for me either, I have to admit that Laito is probably the most complex and interesting character of the franchise. (Or at least in the top 3) because the plot of his CDs is always so good. I had high hopes for this one since the Para-Selene series is generally very good and thank god Rejet did not disappoint me. uwu

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

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Track 4: What I can Believe

*Rustle*

“Nn...Mmh...Where am I...?”

You look around, asking if he recognizes the room.

“...Haah...It’s the guest room. At a certain castle in the Demon World.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Right, I guess you don’t know. The words you spoke to me here...What I wished for... ーー And how I was changed forever.”

*Rustle*

“You can’t recall, you can? Even though this most definitely would count as an impactful memory. I guess my existence is only worth that much to you, huh? ...Just kidding. I suppose I’m in no position to say that as the guy who was just messing around up till now. First I was pushed around by your memories, and now my own memories are doing the exact same. Laughable, isn’t it? I feel like a clown.”

You frown.

“Say...The Paraselene Syndrome can be...cured, right?”

You ask him what the Syndrome is specifically about.

“A disease caused by the Paraselene also going by the name ‘Paraselene Syndrome’. It’s the name of the illness you’ve been infected with. As far as I know, those infected lose their memories during the time the paraselene is out. These lost memories turn into hallucinations, affecting anyone who happens to be near, locking them into an illusionary world. Therefore, the illusions will end once the person regains their memories. However...I forgot one important detail. What if...they don’t remember?

Laito takes a seat on the bed.

*Thud*

“Haah...Nobody ever told me that is impossible. You might forget about our time spent together forever. As we are stuck reinacting past memories for eternity. Hilarious. I was out here getting sidetracked by the pleasure in front of my eyes, without realizing just how dangerous this situation we’re in really is. Even though that isn’t the kind of fun I’m looking for.”

You sit down next to him.

“Fufu...What’s gotten into you? Taking a seat next to me like that. Are you feeling pity towards me, perhaps?”

You express your worry.

“Pfft...Fufu...Fufufu...I can’t understand that. Why would you be worried about me? To your current self, shouldn’t I be someone you’d wish to avoid at all costs? Because unlike you, I do remember everything. How much you disliked me when we first met, for example. Hmph. Yet, in the end, you found yourself caught in my grip as I slowly but surely worked my way into your heart. (1) ...Hilarious, don’t you think? It truly is laughable. ...At one point, you’d even start saying you ‘love’ me and I tooーー ...I finally realized that I felt the same towards you.”

You listen carefully.

“But the person I love isn’t the one you are right now...It has to be my Bitch-chan...”

You tell him you’ll try your best to remember.

“Hmm? Are memories really something you regain through effort alone? Although if you claim you’re willing to remember for my sake...”

*Rustle*

“...You’d still cooperate with me, even if I were to try and kill you, right?”

Your eyes widen in fear as he pins you down.

*Thud*

“...An intense experience. Those can become the trigger to regaining your memories. Do you know what that means? That your memories are more likely to come back, if I treat you horribly. Can you truly entrust yourself to me, when you’re looking at me with eyes full of fear like that?”

You nod.

“...!! Ah...Why...? That’s pure hypocricy. You’re simply pitying me.”

*Rustle*

“...Don’t get too full of yourself. You don’t even have memories, so how dare you say that!? Right now, you’re just pretending to be a Saint! The moment your life is in true danger, those sweet words will most definitely turn ugly and rotten.”

*Rustle*

“You’ve got such a pretty neck. I’d probably have no trouble squeezing it shut. Like this...”

Laito starts strangling you.

“...You poor little thing~ Gasping for air~ Is it suffocating?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Fufu...Fufufu...I don’t intend to kill you or anything. I’m only waiting for you to reveal your shameful true nature. Aaah~ You seem to be suffering.”

*Rustle*

“Woah there...~ That was close. You can’t faint on me now, can you? ...Fufu~”

You take a deep breath.

“Exactly...You should use this opportunity to take in as much air as you can. Because soon enough...You won’t be able to breathe again once more.”

Laito kisses you deeply.

*Smooch*

“Ahn...Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“...Fufu~ The inside of your mouth is completely dry. Should I moisten it up with your blood? It feels good to get sucked from your tongue, you know? Haahn...”

He bites your tongue.

*Sluuuuurp*

“Mmh...Hah...! Haah...Ah...It tastes delicious, mixed in with your saliva. Aahn...”

*Gulp*

“Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp*

“...Hah...Say...? Don’t you think it feels great to have me suck your blood while you’re struggling to breathe? With your consciousness growing faint, doesn’t it feel like the pleasure is slowly travelling through your entire body?”

*Rustle*

“Look at you slouching...~ You’re not throwing in the towel already,are you? I mean...You were going to regain your memories because you just felt so bad for me, no? In that case, you have to go all the way. ...Or do you want to run away after all?”

You shake your head.

“...I wonder why you’re this stubborn. I don’t exist within your memories. And your body is shaking like a leaf. I can’t imagine you would do this out of any other reason but hypocricy. ...Or were you simply left unsatisfied by this? In that case, savor it with all your might. The pleasure I give you, that is. Well then...I suppose I should suck from your chest next...~?”

*RIIIIIIP*

“Ah-aaah...Look at that expression of yours. How shameless. ...Say, why don’t you try fighting back like before? Come on. Hurry!”

You refuse.　

“Kuh...! Why...are you trying to accept me? Not a single one of your memories have returned, so why are you pretending as if you know me!?”

You explain that his situation hurts you emotionally.

“Why are you experiencing heartache over this? There’s no reason for you to be suffering...The one who is hurting...is me! ...Exactly. It hurts. Very much so...I want you to love me from the bottom of your heart...”

You suddenly embrace him.

*Rustle*

“...Ah! ...Bitch-chan...? Are you sure it’s safe to do this...? You can’t guarantee what I’ll do when you embrace me like this, right?”

You tell him you want to trust him and learn to love him once more.

“...!! Those are...some very dangerous words to speak right now. (2) ...You’re going to make me believe that you will accept me for who I am, with or without your memories. Say...Can I believe in you? Will you truly...love me?”

You nod.

“Ah...I feel the same.”

He returns the hug.

*Rustle*

“Bitch-chan...You truly are a strange girl. You are probably the only one...who can rouse my emotions this much.”

*Smooch*

“...Does your neck hurt? ...I’m sorry. I grabbed it too tightly. Will you let me make it up to you...? I’ll blow your mind with pleasure...Haahn...Mmh...”

Laito bites you once more.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...Ah~...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Starting to feel better? I’m sucking you gently after all. ...Nfu~ You’re making a cute expression. ...You like it when I drink your blood from here, don’t you? Mmh...”

*Rustle*

*Gulp*

“Ah...Nfu~ I knew it. I can tell just how good it feels for you from the slightest twitch of your fingers, you see? That proves just how many times we’ve repeated his action. Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Bitch-chan...Hold my hand...”

You hold his hand.

“I’ll pour my heart and soul into you. So...Give me your feelings too?”

You agree.

“Mmh...Thank you...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

*BZZZZZZZZZZZ*

*WOOSH*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that she slowly had her heart melted by him.

(2) Laito uses the term 殺し文句 or ‘koroshi-monku’ which is a ‘clincher’ or a ‘pick-up line’ in English.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers paraselene #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Is everything alright, in the castle I mean? Is everything as it should be?" Robin finally looked up from the floor in newly regained composure, once Hagrid had finished his story. "I know it's an odd question, but please just answer it." Her eyes met Snape's across the room in doubt, but also in dread. She didn't want an answer… but she knew she needed it. Yeah, he would definitely think she was insane for good.

"It is not, seeing as you are not there while you are supposed to be. Otherwise however I am not aware of any unusual occurrences." He replied as requested, but kept his inquiring gaze on her even as she let out a relieved sigh. "What, pray tell, did you expect to hear?"

"I was hoping for exactly that answer and fearing something much worse." Robin said evasively, for he surely wouldn't believe her if she spoke the entire truth. For a moment, it was quiet.

"Uh, I better be givin' you two a minute, ey?" Hagrid finally stated in an awkward mumble and shuffled over into the part of his hut that was furthest away from where Robin was sitting.

With a silent sigh, Robin rubbed her tired eyes for a moment, then rose to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at Snape with an almost helpless expression that she just couldn't get rid of. Surely he would scold her now… she hadn't actually answered any of his questions yet and her behavior must seem rather pathetic if not straight out insane.

"You are aware of the fact that you are breaking more than one school rule by being here at this time of night, yes? This could get you into a lot of trouble."

Oh… right. Robin hadn't actually wasted a single thought on that yet. But there really had been more important issues, issues that still were more important to Robin right now. But a simple breach of school rules was easier to face than what she would have to tell him otherwise. "I apologise, sir. I understand how this must be looking to you. Is that why you tried to find me? Because I'm breaking the rules?" Well, at least it wasn't because she supposedly murdered someone.

"Yes, and no. The professor who is patrolling the castle tonight noticed you leaving the grounds and came to alert me of the issue instead of going after you himself. A reasonable choice, seeing as your… liberties are not defined but between you and me. Upon that there were various reasons why I decided to see to the task of finding you myself."

Robin nodded slowly, and let her gaze drop to the ground at the same time. She was having worse problems than breaking a stupid rule at the moment… worse even than disappointing Snape, as much as that still pained her. What had happened tonight was on an entirely different scale, and she couldn't even begin to actually put that into words. Not here, not now… she already felt sick at the prospect.

"And I was right to come find you myself, that much is obvious to me now. There clearly is more to this issue than a simple forbidden venture into the night, as my colleague suggested you were going for." Snape added after a moment, and the concerned frown settled back on his face. If he was trying to hide it at all, he was doing a poor job at it.

"You have no idea just how much more…" Robin breathed in return, closing her eyes for a few seconds as she thought about any way she could possibly tell him about this whole thing without turning into a sobbing heap on the floor again. But she had to, no matter what she had thought a few days ago, he needed to know.

"Why don't we return to the castle and you enlighten me, then?" He suggested, but it sounded more like a demand than a question.

"No!" Robin blurted out immediately as a new pang of fear spread through her, and she looked at him with every bit of that clearly reflecting in her eyes. "I… I can't go back there, I won't… Please… don't make me." Her heart was beating so strongly once more that she was sure he must hear it from where he stood three steps away, and she couldn't help the urge to hug herself even more tightly. The thought of returning to the castle, to her bedroom… it was beyond terrifying, especially now that it had suddenly become a very real prospect.

"What happened tonight that is so horrible that it could make you act like this?" He asked after a moment, in a mixture of curiosity and worry. "Why do you want to stay here just so badly?"

"I don't want to stay here!" Robin let out a short, bitter laugh that had absolutely nothing humorous about it. "I'm incredibly thankful that Hagrid quite possibly saved my life, but it's not that I want to stay here… it's that I cannot go back!"

"And why not?"

"Because I'm bloody terrified, okay?!" She almost yelled, then clasped a hand over her mouth as if it could take the words back, or the deeply honest expression of fear. Oh great… the tears were back in her eyes, and slowly she was starting to see a pattern. She had cried out the shock and panic, yes, but she had not even remotely started on the real issue. The things she had seen, the week's worth of nightmares, and the grand finale today. And every time it came to actually having to deal with that now, she was backing away from it.

A hand on her shoulder, reluctant almost, mirrored on the other side a second later. Robin blinked the tears away as she looked up, and even now she couldn't help the tingles on her skin, the spark in her heart. Damnit…

"Is what terrifies you inside the castle?" He asked calmly, keeping his hands on her shoulders as his eyes stayed locked with hers as well. "Is that why you left at this time of night? In this… attire?"

Robin nodded, unable to speak with the giant lump in her throat, and ignored the heat creeping up her neck at both his lasting touch and the fact that she was still in her bloody pajamas! Hopefully… oh god. Hopefully there wasn't any of the blood left on the fabric, or on her skin.

"Is that why you were concerned about unusual occurrences in the school?" He asked on, at least somewhat putting the pieces together now.

"Yes, I… I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Else? Someone did get hurt already, someone in the school?" His eyebrows lifted in question, and Robin's heart squeezed together painfully.

"I… I don't know." Her voice broke and more tears followed. "I wish I knew, and I hope I'm wrong. My roommates…"

"Your roommates? If you are concerned about their well-being, I can assure you that they are perfectly alright. In fact, I have just given all of them detention for the next three weekends, seeing as they and a few other students were breaking curfew."

"What? Really?" Robin breathed in both relief and irritation. "When was that, exactly?"

"Approximately forty minutes ago when I set out to find you."

"So I was already gone at that point? No doubt in that?"

"None at all."

"Oh thank god." She closed her eyes for a second and bit her lip to keep it from shaking for at least a moment before she spoke on, to herself and her own mind. "It was only an illusion…"

"So what scared you isn't real?"

"No, it IS real! Terribly real even! I don't know what it is, or who it is, or if it's even remotely dangerous to anyone but me, but it is very much real!" Robin insisted with every bit of desperation she felt, pleading him with her eyes to understand. "It's real, and it did something to me that I cannot explain, something… You have to believe me! Please…"

"I do believe you." His reply was immediate, without any doubt and in a serious tone. "And therefore we have to return to the castle. If there is even a small chance of a threat, we have to take care of it as soon as possible."

"Please don't make me go back there. I… I'm part of the problem! And if it is still there… I will make matters worse, and I just… can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that IT is ME!" The statement came out more as a desperate sob than a fact. "It looks like me, but I swear it's not me. I can't explain it to you or anyone, it's just horribly complicated, I don't understand any of it myself. But I can't go back, please… I don't want to kill myself again." The last sentence was a mere whisper, and Robin surprised herself by allowing the words past her lips in the first place.

For a moment Snape looked equally surprised, then his brows furrowed in stern determination as he looked down at her with that intense focus once more. "Return to the castle with me and we will sort this out together, right now. Nothing will happen to you."

"I want to believe you, sir, I really do, but… things have happened that I cannot explain, and if I ever get tortured like that again I can assure you that I will go mad for real. Or worse."

"Nobody will torture you, Robin. That is only my own privilege." But seeing as Robin couldn't even smile at the sort of misplaced joke she usually found great delight in, he let out a soundless sigh in defeat. For a moment Snape focused on the wall behind Robin while he dropped his hands from her shoulders, frowning to himself in a question he didn't voice, and finally his eyes returned to Robin's. "Nothing will happen to you, and you will be alright. I… promise."

Robin's insecurity made way for sincere surprise. "I thought you don't make promises."

"I don't."

"But… you just made a promise to me, didn't you?"

"I did."

Even if it had come at the cost of any and every expression on his face, as well as the willingness to converse right now, Robin was momentarily stunned by the gesture. Positively, for once. He didn't make promises, ever, and yet he just had, for the mere sake of making her feel safe with him. Even beyond the fireworks that it caused Robin to feel on the inside, it also actually made her want to believe him. Perhaps she would be alright. Even if she returned to the castle now, he would be there and she could trust him. It literally was his job to keep her and the other students safe after all, and if he went against his own rules to make her understand that, he must really mean it. She wasn't alone in this anymore, and she wouldn't be again.

"Alright." She said before she could talk herself out of it again. "I trust your promise. Probably more than myself right now. Let's go back and make sense of this."

After a quick goodbye and a thank you to Hagrid, whom Robin had to wake up once more to let him know of her decision to let Snape take her back to the castle, she followed the potions professor out the door at last, only to be met by heavy rain.

"Do you have your wand on you?" He asked with a risen eyebrow and another quick but doubtful glance at Robin's choice of pajamas.

"No… I wasn't really in a place of mind for rational thought when I left the castle." Robin admitted in return as she looked down at the contrast of her naked skin on the muddied ground, while crossing her arms over her chest again in an attempt to block out the cold of the rain and the general November chill. Under different circumstances, she might actually have had the will to be embarrassed, but right now she was only feeling like a feather in the current once again. Shaken, vulnerable, and powerless.

"In that case you will have to bear with minimal dry space." Snape replied with a sigh, then pointed the tip of his wand towards the sky and spoke two words, upon which a bluish field of energy moved to form an almost transparent umbrella. Robin watched the magic unfold in as much fascination as was currently possible under the given circumstances, while the rain continued to run into her eyes and soak through the fabric of her clothes. A second later she was interrupted in her stare by the sound of his voice breaking through the rain once more. "Will you come and walk with me now or do you prefer getting drenched entirely?"

Robin blinked the rain out of her eyes and dug her fingernails a little deeper into her own arms, but nonetheless moved closer to Snape until she was mostly standing under the umbrella, and thereby also impossibly close by his side. Geez, couldn't her emotions give her a break for once?! Having fear for one's life getting mixed with pleasant tingles of affection was really a bit too odd of an emotional rollercoaster. But the thought vanished into the back of her mind when he placed an arm around her shivering shoulders to pull her along the path with him, back towards the castle, while keeping both of them under the somewhat dry space of the umbrella.

… … …

The good thing once they arrived back at the castle was that Robin got out of the freezing cold at last, but on the bad side it also brought along the loss of his comforting presence and warmth at her side when he released her from his hold and took a large step away to an appropriate distance. The loss of his arm around her shoulders almost made her feel colder than the rain and wind had in the first place, but Robin had little time to dwell on it as they made their way down into the dungeons. The hallways, the dark, the silence… it caused Robin's heartbeat to quicken, her stomach to churn and the images of dead bodies to return to the forefront of her mind. She hated how this week had changed her perception of the dungeons so much… she wanted nothing more than to go back to loving the place. Maybe she could, once all of this was over and in the past.

"The lab?" She wondered out loud with a small frown once she realized that that's exactly where Snape had led her.

"You consider it a calming place, do you not?" He returned as if it was the most obvious thing ever, and ushered Robin inside as soon as the door sprung open.

"Yes, I… I do." Robin said quietly with the underlying wonder of just how he knew that. Sure, it was true, but had it been that obvious to him?

Without as much as another word, Snape lit up the fireplace and a few candles, tossed his rain-drenched robes over one of the tables and generally seemed to ignore Robin's presence as he moved about the room. She couldn't say she was mad about it, really, for it gave her the opportunity to stay out of his way while she calmed her breathing down to a point where her heart wasn't racing anymore. Then she moved towards the warmth of the fire, as its warmth on her frozen skin posed too strong of a pull to resist. A short sleeved t-shirt really wasn't suited for November weather, leave alone for the freezing cold of the rain that had soaked into it. Also, this entire time without shoes had left her feet almost entirely numb from the cold.

Without caring if she was allowed to, Robin sat down in front of the fire, as close as she could without burning her skin off. With a quiet sigh, she held both her hands and her feet into the warm glow for a moment. It burnt, but it was a good burn. Like coming back inside after a day in the snow.

Once enough silence had passed, enough calm of the laboratory washed over her, she found herself feeling almost alright being in here, behind a locked door, with just Snape and herself and a bunch of dead animals and plants. But she was still terribly cold from the water and the mud all over her skin, no matter how close she moved towards the fire. She needed to get rid of the water, right now, even if she only could try to do so with magic. Without a wand, and without a word, Robin focused on the elemental spell she had learned two years ago. If it didn't work, she at least hadn't lost anything. But indeed, a mere few seconds later, she felt the layer of water dissolving on her skin, the itching of the drying mud along with it, and she opened her eyes just in time to see the minimal particles and the thin mist melting away for good.

"Impressive." Came the quiet comment from the other side of the room, and Robin turned to sit sideways between the fireplace and her professor.

"Maybe… Misery makes for a good motivation." She replied with a sigh and pulled her legs to her chest to rest her chin on her knees. "I guess this is the part where I have to tell you about everything that happened so that you can figure out if there's any threat to the school…"

"That would be the next logical step, yes."

"I don't even know where to start. It's so… much." Robin signed again, and turned her head to look straight up at Snape where he stood a few steps away. "But I assume what matters right now isn't the entire story of how I ended up at Hagrid's, only the part that made me run in the first place. So let's start with what's important. I… encountered something, or someone, that looked exactly like me. Not even just similar, but an exact copy."

Finally Snape moved over to where Robin was sitting, and to her surprise, he sat down across from her in front of the fireplace to face her with all of his attention like he usually did when something she was saying intrigued him. "Do go on."

"Well, I… I don't know what it is. It was in my room tonight, when I woke up. It… seemed to have the entire control over my body for a while, and I was forced to mirror every of its movements. But it startled when I made a sound, and I could free myself from its influence. I pushed it away from me and ran as fast as I could."

"You touched it?"

"Yeah, I shoved it in the shoulder, or… or arm or someplace around there. I was kind of scared for my life so you will have to excuse the imprecision of that memory."

"What did that touch feel like? Unusually cold, perhaps?"

"No, actually… just like a normal person would." Robin shrugged and smoothed out invisible wrinkles on her flannel bottoms. "It had nothing… otherworldly about it, if you know what I mean."

"I believe I do."

"Do you remember my memory of the boggart?"

"That is hardly something I could forget. Do you assume that someone sent a boggart into your room?"

"No. And that's the point. I spent a lot of time last summer thinking about what happened between me and the boggart, reliving that memory if you will, and I wrote quite a bit about it. And while almost every descriptive word I used for the boggart-me also applies to the me I saw today, a few of the important ones don't fit together."

"You'll have to elaborate on that if you want me to follow."

"Well, the boggart was otherworldly in a way. It wasn't… humanly. It was an essence of eerie darkness clad in my skin. But tonight I faced a real person, whose most inherent attribute wasn't darkness but humanness. The boggart was a vision of me, the thing tonight was a reality. And seeing as it wasn't me, it clearly has to be someone else."

"I can follow your logic, but I'm afraid it still does not give me any idea of what we are dealing with."

Robin sighed, feeling guilty and overall annoyed with herself because she just couldn't put the terrors she had seen into the right words. She could describe the physical representation of it, yes, but that was merely the tip of the iceberg. She wanted Snape to know the entire thing. Well, maybe she didn't have to tell him the entire thing for him to know though. If she only would pull herself together for a moment, he could see what she had seen. Feeling what she had felt, without discovering the things he (unfortunately) made her feel in return. That was a risk worth taking.

"Perhaps you will know more when you take a look at it yourself." She said before she could change her mind. "You said that you can see every memory and emotion of mine, if I allow you to. I realize that you don't like doing that, but since the matter is urgent and I see no better way to do it… I want you to look into my mind."

"Are you absolutely certain about that?"

"Yes. I want you to know."

"Prepare yourself." He ordered, and Robin pushed anything but the horrors of the past week out of her mind. It left her feeling just an overwhelming hollowness. "Ready?"

"Yes." She replied over the lump in her throat, and a moment later she felt the uncomfortable prickle that always came along with legilimency. The more she focused on the things he needed to see, needed to understand, the more her chest closed up tightly and the wider the rivers on her cheeks grew. Damn those tears again… it was as if she had no control over her crying at all. Minutes passed, hours maybe, or only just seconds. Until the prickle stopped with a start. It was followed by Robin's immediate loss of focus, and the walls in her mind came crashing down upon the second he could no longer see.

For a moment, they simply continued looking at each other in silence. Robin with slowly drying tears in her eyes, and Snape like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe Robin's eyes were just that soul-stealing indeed, but likelier was that something in her mind had shaken him more than he had anticipated.

"I…" He started, but didn't go on. Probably he couldn't find the right words, just like Robin hadn't been able to.

"I know." She replied nonetheless, following the intuition that told her he understood now. "You should just ignore everything that's not relevant to the task. Without all the fuss and emotions, it might be less… chaotic."

"I am not going to ignore a single part of this, Miss Mitchell, and I expect you not to suggest it again either. But what is more important currently… I believe that there is no threat to anyone but you indeed." He finally found his words, even if in a tone that was a lot harsher than what Robin would've expected. But if he was angry about something he probably had a reason to, and as long as that something wasn't Robin, she currently couldn't care less.

"But that means everything is fine, right? No threat, no danger, no damages." Robin tried to argue out of his perspective rather than her own. Of course the issue wasn't solved for Robin herself, but at least everyone else wasn't at risk.

"Not even remotely." Now his tone was seriously grave, as if he had just discovered that the entire school was at great danger rather than safe for the moment. "Before I can even get started on addressing any of the horrors I have seen in your mind, I have to confirm an even worse suspicion. I respected your behaviours tonight, which in the given moment seemed unreasonable and out of context, and I ask you to do the very same for me right now. Can you do that?"

"Certainly, sir…" Robin replied with an insecure frown, pulling her knees a little tighter to her chest as she waited for whatever he might be up to.

But instead of saying any more, he rose to his feet and made his way over to one of the tables where he set up various ingredients, a cauldron, some other supplies… what the heck was he doing? Robin's frown deepened, but she was afraid to ask what he was up to. Not because of Snape, but because she didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.

Without any other sensible thing to do, she turned towards the fire once more in the hopes that the warmth would reach her inside as well and melt the remaining fear away. There was remarkably little left at this point, now that she had allowed him to see… It was good that Snape finally knew what had happened. She didn't have to carry the weight of the world by herself, didn't have to fix an issue that she didn't understand. She wasn't alone anymore.

______________________________

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misskittyspuffy · 3 years

Text

To a better future (15x20, alternative ending)

[Takes place in 15x20, alternative ending]. When Dean and Sam find out that Chuck has manipulated them once more, they decide to take control of their lives again. (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Dean & Sam)

Note: Like many of us, I was truly hurt, angry and devastated after the finale, that was a huge slap in the face. I decided to wrote my own ending, the one I was sure we were getting (if the show had followed its narrative). Feedbacks are more than welcome ♥︎

Please note that English isn't my mother tongue, if you have any remark or spot mistakes, feel free to let me know! :) This is a translation of my fanfiction "À un meilleur avenir".

Ao3 link

Their saturday nights were usually made of binge-watching sessions in the Dean-cave. Beers and pop-corn were their driving force for the evening. They usually were sitting on the couch Dean had especially set up in front of the big screen. Some other nights, they were going to the movies —which they rarely did in the past.

But that evening, duty was going to prevail.

An empty warehouse, deserted thirty years ago, had some strange —their kind of strange— activity in the past few weeks and the eldest Winchester had decided that it was worth to take a look at what seemed to be a ghost case. Three rash people had died at the place and some survivors had reported violent attacks.

A year ago, they had regained their free will. As it turned out, Chuck hadn’t played his last card that day, near the lake. After turning him into a human —at least, that’s what they had thought— the Winchester brothers hadn’t realized that they just had been trapped in his last scenario.

To remove a threat, you need to make believe to your enemy that he has successfully beaten you. And that’s exactly what Chuck had done. He had made them believe they had won. And had largely benefited from it.

The trap had taken the form of an illusion that had led Dean to his death and Sam to the perfect family life he had once hoped for. There had been a shift in the way Sam was feeling though —when he had gotten married, when his son was born, he had felt that something was off, but he had never succeeded to put his finger on what.

Seven years had passed after Dean’s death when one morning, while Sam was off to his daily jog, he had found Jack on his porch, waiting for him. He was looking unusually worried, which had led the Winchester to believe that something very serious had happened. Little did he know, by this time, how much his life had been about to change. The Nephilim had then explained to him that he was about to break the divergent timeline Chuck had created and in which he had locked them in. The trick was ingenious, but Jack had been more clever. He had perceived a breach while moving from one world to another —he and Amara were rebuilding the parallel dimensions Chuck had meticulously destroyed, in order to preserve the Balance of the Universe.

It had taken a while for Sam to fully accept the idea that what had been his life for so long was a lie. The illusion created by the former God had become his new reality. Getting out of it was scary and had seemed impossible at first. He had spent hours contemplating the life he had built, watching the son that was born from his marriage —born from an illusion. But looking at him playing in their living room, he had felt very real. When he had called him “dad’’, handing him over a drawing he had just made of their perfect little family, his throat had tighten. In the next few days though, he had come to terms with the fact that Jack was right, and a deep feeling of gravity was now taking over. What was about to happen was probably one of the most painful things he ever had to experience. Losing what he thought was real did feel real, but intellectually, he knew something wasn’t right. It wasn’t who he was, it wasn’t his life.

As soon as Jack had told him about Chuck, about the fact that he still had his powers —to some extent— and had only conceded a part of them to him, including Amara, Sam had known he was telling the truth. Seven years ago in that barn, it wasn’t the ending Dean had deserved.

It wasn’t them back then, it wasn’t him right now. Their lives had been taken away from them.

He had finally put his finger on what felt wrong. Jack had then mentioned a certain Eileen, and at this moment, that name hadn’t even ring a bell. Donna, Jody, Charlie, Claire… So many people that Chuck had erased from their lives. People that were once family had become strangers. Sam had finally accepted Jack’s plan to restore his life and Dean’s life the way they were before everything went wrong. The bonds the youngest Winchester had formed in that illusion were left behind, and he knew it was a wound that wasn’t going to be easy to move on from. But he knew his brother didn’t deserve to die the way he did. It had been enough for him to find the courage to move forwards with Jack’s scheme to fix their lives.

The natural order of things was back in the space of a few minutes, thanks to Jack. He had brought Dean back on Earth, had given them back their memories and —in the process— had restored their real personalities. Sam was again the same age he was before they fought against Chuck. The fallout had been truly hard to accept, for both of the Winchesters. They had been screwed, big time. Dean had fallen on his knees, right in the middle of the Bunker, feeling more numb and devastated than ever. Only a few hours had passed for him when he was in the fake version of Heaven Chuck had created, but it had been too much already. He had received a call from Donna and Jody, who had felt the need to talk to him, after feeling like they had gone through a fever dream.

What a f*cking asshole, the eldest Winchester had yelled, while throwing his phone away.

He wasn’t as expressive as his brother, but Sam shared the same state of mind. He was still processing, especially considering what he had left behind, but now that everything was back the way it used to be, the seven years he had spent in that illusion of life felt like a blurry dream. They were now in control of their lives again.

Jack and Amara had been enough to overpower Chuck —for real this time. Using his idea of a lie, they had turned him into a real human being. He had quickly gotten a chance to learn that the Universe had a really strange sense of humor, and had died a few weeks later from an unknown disease.

One year later, on a saturday night, Dean was getting ready for his hunt. Standing in front of the Bunker’s table, he was putting away weapons in his bag, making sure that they hadn’t forgotten something that could be useful : the EMF meter, pouches of salt, guns… At some point, he frowned and rummaged at the bottom of the bag, and finally found a nunchaku.

“What the hell?!’’ he grumbled. “Damn it, Sam!’’

A man’s hand appeared next to his, adding a blade in the bag, which the Winchester opened a little more to give his partner a better access to it.

“You really like this one, don’t you?’’ he said with a smile.

Cas shrugged. “You’re the one who told me that I was going to have my favorites.’’

“Right,’’ he nodded.

The former angel was standing next to him, dressed in a leather jacket, wearing jeans and a red shirt, that completely detonated with his previous usual wardrobe. Dean was partly responsible for this new looks, he had dragged him to a few shops after Cas had came back human.

“You think it’ll be enough?’’ the blue eyed man asked.

The Winchester looked up and leaned on Cas, kissing him briefly on the lips. “Looks good to me.’’

A disapproving look appeared on the former angel’s face. “Dean.’’

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What?’’

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the grenade-launcher?’’ he sighed.

While he was speaking, Cas opened the bag again, pointing out the weapon in question.

“So what?’’ the Winchester said with an innocent look.

“Ghosts, Dean. We’re going to fight ghosts. The grenade-launcher’s usefulness will probably be close to nada.’’

“Oh yeah, because your blade is going to have so much effect on them,’’ Dean said in return in a teasing tone.

Looking a little bit offended, Cas squinted. If a look could kill…

“You being so cute when you’re mad really should be a crime,’’ Dean said with an affectionate expression on his face.

The former angel was standing still and Dean kissed him again on the lips before grabbing his hand and leading them to the Bunker’s stairs, making him follow his steps. “Let’s go, you can still sulk in the car,’’ he said in an amused tone.

Sam appeared in the hall, coming from the corridor. “Hey,’’ he said to the couple. An intrigued look appeared on his face. “What are you up to?’’

Dean and Cas exchanged a look.

“Nothing big, a haunted place. You know, the usual stuff,’’ the eldest Winchester shrugged.

Sam frowned. “You got a serious lead on that?’’

“Yeah, three deaths. We’re going to take a look.’’

“If you give me a minute, I could—’’

“No,’’ Dean interrupted him firmly. “You and Eileen got plans for tonight. Go. Watch your dancers in tights, or whatever, we’ll take care of the dead.’’

Sam rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? That’s all you’re taking away from ballets? Dancers in tights?’’

“Never saw one, but I’m fine with it,’’ he answered with a half smile.

Cas grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, pushing them in the direction of the stairs. “Don’t pay attention to him Sam,’’ he said midly-amused, midly-exasperated. “Dean is right, we’re taking care of it. Enjoy your night,’’ he ended with a smile.

While they were leaving, Sam realized his nunchaku was in the trash. “DEAN!!!’’

***

What was supposed to be a classic hunt turned out to be more challenging that what they were expecting. A demon also occupied the Warehouse, and a second one had appeared during the fight. Cas’ blade ended up being useful. After killing one of them, he was projected on a bunch of cardboards. Dean killed the other one, and once it was over, he ran in the direction of the former angel, worried.

“Cas, you’re okay?’’

“I’m fine,’’ he answered while breathing heavily. He grabbed the hand Dean was giving him. “I didn’t expect this turn of events.’’

“Yeah, two little surprises that weren’t on the program,’’ Dean said, looking down at the corpses. “You’re sure you’re okay?’’ he asked again, sliding his hand along Cas’ arm.

Cas nodded and kissed him on the cheek, near the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry that much for me. I can handle myself. You’re human too… and you’re still here.’’

“I’ve been human a lil’ bit longer than you have,’’ Dean said. “I got my fair amount of injuries before properly kicking ass, you know. Takes time.’’

“Our training helped me to improve.’’

“Good, that’s what it was meant for,’’ he said firmly.

Dean started remembering their first trainings and what had led them to this situation. Which reminded him how things went the year before, after they had gotten back on their reality.

Flashback - A year ago

After learning that Chuck had manipulated them once more, Dean had locked himself into his bedroom, on the edge of breaking everything that was in it. The person he used to be probably would have done it at this point. But Cas’ words still resonated with him. Love was the force driving his actions, he wasn’t made of hate or violence, and he wanted it to be the thing that would prevail from now on. He had every intention to honor that.

Once he had hugged his brother and catched up with him about the recent events, Sam had left the Bunker to meet Eileen, who he had been talking to for the past hour. They both had felt the need to see each other, considering how things had gone since the last time they had interacted, the day she disappeared. With Sam away, Dean had taken the opportunity to do what he knew his little brother would probably have dissuade him to try. He had went to see Jack, who hadn’t left the Bunker yet. The young man was quietly sitting in the library when the eldest Winchester approached him, a determined look on his face.

“Can you open a breach to the Empty? Do you have that power?’’

“I know what you’re thinking,’’ Jack said, slowly closing the book he had in his hands. “I was expecting you to ask me that. Can I do it? Sure. But… the actual state of things with the Empty is not stable enough yet. I’m… negotiating with her.’’

“I have to do it, you know I can’t let him over there,’’ he ended with a trembling voice despite himself. “I’m not asking you to bring him back for me, I know it might not be possible right now, this is something I have to do by myself. I’m just asking for a little boost.’’

Jack quietly nodded. “You think you can win this? That you’ll have something to offer that the Empty will be interested in?’’

“Let me handle this part,’’ the Winchester replied.

A beat.

“So? The breach?’’ he asked again, looking impatient. He had tried to cover it, but his voice had came out as a little supplication.

“Of course. It’s Cas.’’

Dean’s throat tightened and he had a sudden difficulty to swallow. “Yeah… exactly. It’s Cas.’’

“But if things go wrong… I don’t know if I’ll be able to step in. There is a new balance, I’m not the only one ruling on the Universe, and I have no power over the Empty. That’s why I didn’t have a chance to bring Cas back myself.’’

The Winchester nodded, nothing would make him change his mind.

A few minutes later, the breach was open. A dark circle had taken place on the Bunker’s wall, undulating and growing second after second, the same way it had the day it came to collect Cas. Dean took an inspiration and with no hesitation, threw himself into it.

“Good luck,’’ Jack said once the Winchester had disappeared.

A smile took place at the corner of his mouth.

He knew everything was going to unfold the way Dean had planned it.

***

The Empty was a vast place, it really was doing justice to its name. The darkness was the only thing Dean could contemplate, with no beginning nor end in sight. He wasn’t even sure that he could actually see anything beyond fifteen or twenty feet. He was destabilized at first, didn’t know where to start, turning around and contemplating the void, trying to find any form of activity, a sign of Cas’ presence. Unsure of the direction he was supposed to take, he blindly started to walk around, and did the only logical thing he could do at this moment. He called Cas’ name. Once, twice, ten times, twenty times, fifty times —but for a moment, silence was the only answer he had gotten. He shout out his name until the Empty finally appeared right before him as Meg.

“Cas! Cas!’’ she said in a mocking voice. “WILL YOU SHUT UP??!!!’’

Dean took a few seconds to adjust to his new interlocutor, on his guards.

His jaw clenched. “Where is he?’’ he asked firmly. He wasn’t there to negotiate.

“You’re here to get your sweet little angel back, that’s cute… but not enough. Your weapon will have no effect on me,’’ she said while pointing out the blade he held in his left hand.

The Winchester looked briefly in the same direction and tighten his grip on the blade even harder. “It’s not for you.’’

The Empty looked intrigued. “Really?’’

“Where is he?!’’ he asked again.

She sighed while crossing her legs, sitting on her throne. “Somewhere… between here and there… I saved him a seat at my best spot.’’

A creepy smile distorted her face and she raised a knowing eyebrow in Dean’s direction. Cas’ treatment was probably one of the most painful she could inflict to someone. At this mere thought, the Winchester started to feel sick in his stomach. How long Cas had been here? How many days, months, years maybe had he been stuck in this place while him and Sam were living the scenario Chuck had planned for them?

The Empty hadn’t seen it coming —to be honest, Dean hadn’t either— but in the second that had followed, he had thrown himself to her and gave her a powerful punch in the face, that destabilized her for a second. She sent him away from a movement of her hand, he landed harshly on the ground. Dean got up pretty quickly, but the rage hadn’t left his face, his eyes were still dark and fixated on the Empty.

“WHERE THE HELL IS HE??!’’

“You and your angelic boyfriend are really insufferable,’’ she said furious, matching his own tone. “You wanna know where he is? He’s reliving his worst torments on loop. In which you’ve done many cameos, actually,’’ she added amused. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m not enjoying watching him suffer. Because I do.’’

Dean clenched his jaw. “One last time, tell me where he is or I swear I’m g-’’

“You’re gonna what? Yell at me to death?’’ she said mockingly. “You can do nothing against me.’’

“Maybe. But I can get quite inventive, I’ll be the biggest pain in your ass. You like quietness? I can promise you you’ll never find peace again. I’m human, you have no power over me.’’

The Empty’s face suddenly fell.

“Tell me where he is,’’ Dean said, once more.

She looked contemplative for a few seconds and a sigh escaped her lips. “Good luck, Dean. But remember… no matter what you do, Castiel is mine.’’

With a snap of her fingers, she teleported him to Cas. Dean landed harshly on the floor of a cold room, only to find himself surrounded by four walls. There was no door, no way to escape. The place was dark and he had a hard time seeing where he was, but after adjusting his vision to the place, he discerned the presence of Cas, who was lying down, facing the floor, unconscious. He wasn’t physically hurt, but the pain on his face was very telling about the hell he was emotionally experiencing in whatever the Empty was putting him through in his nightmares. His face looked worried and scared.

Dean kneeled next to him, hanging the blade at his belt. He turned him on his back and tried to wake him up, putting a hand on his face.

“Cas! Hey, Cas! Wake up. I need you to wake up.’’

It took a little while, but after insistance, Dean finally succeeded to bring him back to conscientiousness. Cas had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“Dean?’’ the angel finally said in a husky voice. He wasn’t sure if he was truly awake or if dream and reality had just got mixed up again.

“It’s me,’’ he said. “Hey, hey, stay with me, okay?’’ he added when he saw that Cas was falling out again. He tried to keep him in a sitting position.

“You’re not real.’’

“I am. I promise you. I’m sorry it took me so long…’’ His voice broke. He kept the angel’s face between his hands, looking deep into his eyes, trying to convince him it was really him. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?’’

Cas seemed lost. “Where are we?’’

“The Empty. You sacrificed your life to save me, remember?’’

A beat. Cas’ eyes seemed to focus and find a semblance of consistency. “I remember.’’ His face fell. “Dean… what are you doing here?’’ he said in a worried voice.

The Winchester was baffled. “You really thought I was going to leave you rot here?’’ His throat tightened. “You saved me, Cas. More than once. You really thought I wasn’t going to look for you?’’

Cas frowned. “You might not be able to leave this place.’’

“Oh believe me, I will. We will. You’re coming with me.’’

The angel shaked his head. “I can’t, Dean, the deal…’’

Dean stopped him. “The deal doesn’t matter anymore. I have a solution.’’

He took the blade at his belt and showed it to the angel, who seemed lost in return. He didn’t understand.

“But… you have to agree with my plan,’’ he added, nervous.

“What do you mean?’’

“The Empty can only hold angels and demons. If you’re human, she won’t have any hold on you.’’ He pointed out the flask that was attached to his necklace. “If we extract your grace, if you become human… you’ll be able to come home with me.’’

Dean was anxious, he didn’t know how Cas was going to react to his proposal.

“Do you agree with this plan?’’ Dean asked hesitant.

The angel nodded, still feeling groggy. “Of course.’’

“Awesome,’’ Dean said, relieved. “Look, I don’t know what the Empty is up to, we should hurry up, okay? You’re ready?’’

As a sign of agreement, Cas extended his neck, giving free access to Dean. After a short hesitation, the Winchester cut him a little with the blade, placing the flask near the incision. The process started and only took a few seconds. The blue light, glittering, started its transfer to the container, making the angel feel suddenly weaker.

“YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THAT!!’’

The Empty, still wearing Meg’s traits, had just appeared next to them. Furious.

“Castiel is mine, you had no right!’’

“We did actually, and we took it,’’ Dean answered in a defiant voice, while helping Cas to get up. “He’s human now, he doesn’t belong to you anymore.’’

She was about to throw herself at them but the portal leading to their world appeared again on the wall of the room they were in. Dean put Cas’ arm around his neck and led them to the breach, which they quickly got aspired by. In the next second, they were on the Bunker’s floor, catching their breath.

“Excellent timing, kiddo,’’ Dean said to Jack while getting on his feet.

He promptly ran to Cas’ side, helping him to stand. He was noticeably weakened, but seemed to be okay.

“How are you holding up?’’ he asked to the former angel, his full attention on him.

Cas leaned a little on him. “I think I’ll be fine,’’ he assured. Cas then realized who was standing next to the table. Jack. He fixated his look on him with a questioning look and the young man finally ran to his father and took him into his arms. “I missed you, Cas.’’

“How long… how long was I gone?’’ he asked while they were breaking the hug.

Dean and Jack looked at each other, uncertain. The timeline had been changed, distorted, rebuilt. What had represented a few days for Dean had been seven years for Sam. And they didn’t even know how it was for Cas. It was a difficult question to answer.

“We should save this for later…’’ Dean said, with a tap on his shoulder. “Let’s take care of you first.’’

***

Ten days had passed and things were back to the way they used to be. Not everything was the same, of course, but their life had now found a semblance of normalcy again. Dean had rearranged everything in Cas’ bedroom, to adjust and adapt the place to his new needs. He had given him some of his clothes and they had gone shopping to complete his wardrobe.

Cas was feeling way better and, like he once had to do, was now adjusting to his new life as a human, rediscovering the pleasure of eating food that didn’t taste like molecules.

Things with Dean had slowly changed during the course of the last few days. At first, they had been all focused on his new condition, helping him to find a new balance, but now that things were pretty much coming back to what they were, the dynamic between the hunter and the former angel had slowly became awkward and a strange tension had taken place between them. Not that they were avoiding each other, far from it, but they were walking on eggshells —even Sam had noticed it. Cas was particularly cautious about the way he was acting around Dean. After his confession, which they had never talked about since he had came back, he was very attentive to not causing any discomfort.

Little did he know about the inner battle that was currently raging in the eldest Winchester’s mind —battle he had lost many times in the past few days, actually. Hesitation, fear of doing everything wrong, of the unknown, of giving his life a new turn, of experiencing his feelings in a way he never had before… all of this was holding him back. The love thing wasn’t something Dean was comfortable with. Not because he didn’t felt it —he felt it too much actually— but he had never been good at expressing it. He was good at pretending things didn’t affect him, his nonchalance was preserving him. But Cas’ confession had changed everything, had made every single wall he had built around his heart shiver. He had been aware of his feelings for the angel for quite a while now, years even. He had slowly realized that there was nothing brotherly about the way he was feeling about him. Their relationship had always been quite unique.

Every time he had lost him, Dean had known. The deepness of the hurt had been beyond reparable. When he had offered him that mixtape, shortly after he had almost died a few years ago, it had been his way of expressing it, even if he knew the angel wasn’t going to understand the true meaning of such a gift. He knew it was the love language that had made his parents fall in love, and in some kind of way, it had been the language he had chosen to use.

But he was tired of being silent. Tired of not being who he was. Of not following his heart.

He had no reason to hide anymore. He couldn’t pretend Cas didn’t feel the same way. All his life, he had been solely focused on Sam’s happiness, because that was all what mattered. He wished for him to have the perfect life he had always wanted. Who would have guessed that one day, Dean Winchester would start thinking about his own happiness, would believe that he might actually deserve it too. Better days were coming. They were now free, a world of new possibilities was opening to them. Maybe, just maybe, he actually deserved something different than the life made of sacrifices he had always imagined for himself.

It hadn’t taken that long for things to take a new turn. Cas had decided to come to his first hunt as a human, which had immediately activated in Dean his protective mode. The Winchester had tried to stay as chill as he could, but he had stay right beside him, not letting him out of his sight. Once they had been back from their mission, the former angel had complained about it, telling him that he did not want to be a burden for him, which had led to a grumpy answer from the hunter.

When Dean had come to his door that night, to make sure Cas’ wound after their hunt didn’t need more care, their conversation had derailed incredibly fast.

Cas had been shaking his head, not breaking eye contact with the Winchester. “You should stop worrying that much about me, Dean.’’

A beat.

He had then given him an earnest answer. “Can’t. Won’t.’’

They had stayed silent for a moment, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Dean had felt his hands become sweaty, his breath racing. He had taken a new step inside the room, had closed the door behind him. He was now standing near the entrance, his eyes fixated on Cas, who was next to his bed. The silence of the room was only troubled by the sound of their respective breath, which added some kind of weight to the moment.

“I’ll never stop worrying about you…’’ Dean said with a new intensity, tilting his head on the side.

He had taken a new step towards the former angel, hesitant. His eyes had been fixated on the floor for a moment, before he had brought them back on him.

“Cas…’’

He had shaken his head, opened his mouth like if he was about to say something, about to speak his own truth, but no words had come. So he had decided to do the only thing he knew how to do: let his actions speak for him.

Once he had reduced the distance between them, Cas’ heartbeat had incredibly increased. He hadn’t dare to hope. Never. But… what if? In the spare of a few seconds, he had gotten his answer. Dean’s face had come really close to his own, his green eyes never breaking the contact with his blue ones. There was so much left unsaid, but right now, he needed to show him how he felt. He had leaned closer to him, closed his eyes and their lips had finally met. Shyly at first, but when they had realized how good it felt, how it was everything they had needed, they had reinforced their embrace. There was no hesitation left. The Winchester’s hands had cupped Cas’ face, while the former angel had wrapped his arms around him. When they had first broke the kiss, their faces remaining close, a silent tear was running through Cas’ cheek.

“I love you too, Cas,’’ Dean finally succeeded to say, like if he was reprising their conversation from weeks before. Tears were flooding his eyes and he was shaking. “We… never talked about it, since you came back. I never got a chance to thank you for… everything. Absolutely everything, Cas. Things went so fast back then. But I want you to know how much I love you. I have for years, actually. Everything you are… and I always miss you, so much. But I never thought… I never thought we could have this. And I’m sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to say it.’’

Cas’ throat had tightened. He had been physically incapable of saying anything in return. It was all he had ever wanted, but had convinced himself he would never get. He didn’t think he would deserve it. He had taken the initiative of the second kiss, which had started as tenderly as the previous one and led them to explore a physical and emotional intimacy neither of them had known before.

From this day, every piece of the puzzle had started to fall in place. Their life had taken a new turn —but this time, it was one they had chosen.

Present day

Dean had just parked the Impala at a gas station. Once he had turned off the motor, he had rotated his body to face Cas’, who was sitting next to him and was consulting his phone.

“Claire and Kaia are coming by on friday,’’ he said, meeting the Winchester’s eyes.

“It’s her birthday, isn’t it?’’

Cas nodded.

“We should get her something,’’ Dean suggested.

“I’m gonna need your help,’’ the former angel said, a hint of panic on his face.

The Winchester winked at him. “Don’t worry, I got an idea of something she might like. She loves music, right?’’

Cas sighed. “Yes, she… tried to make me listen to some of it, actually. It was… quite an experience.’’

Dean bursted into laugher when he remembered the day he had found Cas listening to The Pretty Reckless.

Since the day he had become human, Cas and Claire had been more in contact than ever. They had talked on the phone and had met each other a couple of times. Claire was still living with Jody and Donna, but along with Kaia, they were now doing things their way. The young blonde was pretty invested into the hunting life, a choice Jody and Cas weren’t sure they were approving. But she wasn’t taking no for an answer and the only thing they could do was let her make her own experience. Everyone could see that Kaia had a good influence on her, though.

“At least, we don’t have that kind of issue with Jack,’’ the Winchester said. “Well, when he comes by,’’ he then muttered to himself.

The former angel agreed. “I understand his questionings way better.’’

“A Nephilim who became our new God and now juggles with multi-dimensions and handles existential kind of stakes… Yeah, makes sense for you,’’ Dean said with tenderness in his voice.

A half smile appeared on the former angel’s lips and he shrugged. “I’m a few millions years old, Dean. I mean, I was.’’

“And you’re really not doing bad,’’ he added, taking his hand in his. “You’re doing a lot of good, actually.’’ Cas tightened his squeeze, intertwined their fingers.

Adjusting to life as a human being had been a whole new challenge, Cas was still processing and learning, even though he wasn’t a stranger to this. But with the help of Dean, Sam and Eileen, he was getting more and more comfortable and used to it. A month and a half after he had returned from the Empty, he had decided to seek for a way to help and be active in this new stage of the world. He had joined social workers in a shelter and had offered his help for the place five times a week for the past months. He had gotten very invested, and Dean had joined him more than once, especially when some supernatural events had collide with the work they were doing there.

“Offering guidance and protection to these kids seemed more appropriate than spending days in bed watching Netflix with you… even though I really enjoy Netflix,’’ he ended with humor in his voice.

Dean raised an eyebrow, midly-offended. “What about being in bed with me?’’

The former angel rolled his eyes, accentuating his grasp on the Winchester’s hand. “Like if you didn’t already know that I enjoy that part.’’

An amused smile appeared on Dean’s lips, before he became serious again, looking at Cas lovingly. “We did a lot of good lately, you and I…’’

They stared silently at each other for a few seconds, lost in each other’s eyes. Cas got closer and leaned into Dean to kiss him slowly. “We did.’’

***

When they arrived at the Bunker, they saw that Eileen and Sam had returned from their night out. They were now comfortably sitting on one of the couches that were in the main room and were both looking at the youngest Winchester’s screen, laughing at what they were watching.

Dean and Cas came down the stairs and walked in their direction.

“So, how was it?’’ the eldest Winchester asked in a skeptical voice, while putting his bag on the table.

“Amazing,’’ Sam said with an emphasis. “I know what to get you for your next birthday.’’

Dean’s face fell. “Sam, if you drag me to one of your ballet things, I’ll never talk to you again, capiche?’’

The youngest Winchester shrugged, side-eyeing the former angel. “Maybe Cas wants to see one.’’

“Ha! Doubt it,’’ Dean said in a pretty confident voice.

“Well…’’ Cas seemed to seriously consider the option. “Why not.’’

“What?’’ Dean said incredulous, looking at his boyfriend with a look of betrayal. “Really?’’

“Life is short,’’ Cas said with a shrug. “There is a lot of different forms of art, I don’t want to limit myself to only a few of them.’’ He smiled and teasingly nudged Dean, who looked disappointed.

“You should consider it,’’ Eileen added, laughing a little. “We made pop-corn, do you want some?’’ she then signed, pointing them the bowl that was on the table. The moment she said it, she realized it had gone empty. “I’m gonna get us some more,’’ she added.

“I’m coming with you,’’ Cas signed.

He put his jacket on one of the chairs and while talking about his and Dean’s last hunt to the young woman, they left the room together. The eldest Winchester and the former angel had taken some sign language classes online, adding that learning to their almost daily practice, allowing the efforts to be split in two during conversations.

Dean watched them leave, looking contemplative for a few seconds, and then came to sit next to his brother, after grabbing one of the beers that was on the table.

“No bad surprises? During your hunt?’’

The eldest Winchester was lost in his thoughts and he took a moment before answering. “Two demons, who came out of nowhere. But we got rid of them pretty easily. They were the ones responsible for the attacks and murders. The ghosts were harmless…’’

“They’re gone too?’’

“Yup, we did what we had to do.’’

“Awesome, I’m gonna put the informations on the app.’’

“Don’t worry about it, Cas did it on our way home,’’ he said while patting his brother’s leg.

“Good. Hey, did you know that the app had now spread in Europe and Australia?’’ Sam said while showing him the screen of his computer. “Charlie took care of everything.’’

Dean smiled proudly. “They would have been stupid not to do it. It’s a genius idea that you had.’’

As soon as they had found their free will again, Sam had spent months thinking about what was going to be his next step. With the exception of his relationship with Eileen, which was the only thing he was pretty much confident about, the possibilities about his future, especially in terms of career, were very uncertain. The life he had in Chuck’s ending was now a fuzzy memory, but it had led him to question his ambition.

After hesitating, he had decided to follow his gut and pursue his will to become a teacher. Law school was his past self’s dream and after years of fighting, he had realized that he wanted to pass on his knowledge and connect with other people. At the same time, he had developed an app with the help of Charlie, that was reuniting hunters in the same virtual place and allowing them to share precious informations about their hunts, the supernatural spots, informations and datas about the creatures they had fought, the places and dates of their hunts. Every case that was solved was signaled as such on the app.

It was a worldwide and virtual version of John Winchester’s journal, that had allowed him to unite thousands of hunters through the world and had facilitated the fight against ghosts, demons and other creatures. Sam had invested a lot of time in the making of the app, which was now the biggest database that ever existed on the subject. Rowena, as the Queen of Hell, had a better control over the demons than it was the case by the past, but many of them were still off her authority.

Watching his little brother be so invested in his new missions had made Dean very proud.

“You’re doing great, Sammy,’’ he said while looking at his brother. “The way you handled this whole thing… you made a difference.’’

He raised his beer in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t know if you realize it, but you’re not doing so bad either,’’ Sam said after a few seconds of silence.

Dean shrugged. “Doing my best.’’

“The bar is practically yours, Dean. There’s only some paperwork left, it’s a done deal.’’

For the past month, the eldest Winchester had started to see his dream of possessing his own bar slowing become a reality. They had found it during one of their hunts in Lebanon, with Cas, Sam and Eileen. It was well located but the place had been haunted for years and the previous owners had much trouble selling it. In exchange for the Team Free Will’s services, they had offered to sell it to Dean at a very interesting price.

“I guess,’’ Dean said with a proud little smile

“And Cas…’’ Sam added gently. “You seem to be doing great together. After all these years… you deserve it.’’ He tried not to push too much, knowing how bashful his big brother could get on this kind of topics.

Dean was looking at his hands, but his face had clearly brightened up. He nodded. “From day one, he changed everything for me.’’

Sam smiled. “Who would have believed it.’’

“All those years ago, I wouldn’t have seen us coming this far.’’

“Clearly, me neither…’’

The youngest Winchester was hesitant for a second, looking nervously in the direction of the framing of the door Eileen and Cas had went through.

“You know… I’m gonna propose to her,’’ he finally said.

Dean’s eyes went wide open, even though he wasn’t exactly surprised, knowing his brother.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now… I’m confident that what we have is what I’ve been looking for my whole life. Everything just… clicks, when I’m with her. I didn’t think it would happen again, after Jess.’’

Dean bowed his head for a second, smiling.

“You’re… you’re not going to cry, right?’’

“What?! Me? NO!’’ Dean replied in a defensive voice. He took a new sip on his beer, trying to hold it together. “I’m just very happy for you, Sammy.’’

He took his little brother in his arms, gently patting him on the back.

“Are you scared?’’ he asked once they ended the hug.

The youngest Winchester sighed. “A little… I mean, I’m not really afraid that she would say no, even if this is a possibility, of course. But, I trust what we have and I know she’s sharing my dream of building our own family.’’

Dean looked confused. “What scares you then?’’

“Well… the last time I thought about marriage, it was with Jessica… and I lost her. In the worst possible way.’’

“Our lives went pretty well since the day we defeated Chuck.’’

“I know, but… a part of me is still afraid that everything is going to be taken away from me, you know? We lost so much since our childhood, I’m just… not yet used to things being so simple. I don’t know if that makes sense?’’ he said, looking at his brother.

Dean slowly nodded, with an understanding look. “It does. I woke up more than once in the middle of the night just to make sure Cas was still lying down next to me…’’

“We had our share of traumas and losses…’’ Sam sighed, taking the beer he had left on the floor. “To a better future,’’ he finally said, raising his bottle for a toast.

“To a better future.’’

THE END

#Destiel #DeanCas #Saileen #Sam x Eileen #Dean x Castiel #Supernatural #SPN 15x20 #SPN fanfictions #Fix-it fics #My fanfictions #To a better future

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shipmistress9 · 4 years

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FTLOAP: Chapter 48,5: Interlude 6: Traitors

For The Love Of A Princess Masterpost

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory (If you want me to add you to this list, just let me know. ^^)

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

AN: As promised, here’s an interlude, and a slightly quicker update, too. It’s a tough one but also one I’ve been waiting for for a long time now. It will shed some light onto a character… that’s been simultaneously over- and under-estimated so far. And I’m incredibly curious for how you’re all going to react.

Also, this chapter comes entirely unbetaed. I’m sorry if there are more mistakes than usual. ^^“

***Shoutouts***

Again, thank you all for your lovely comments! They mean the world to me, especially now where the fandom seems to shrink with every week and the responses overall become fewer and fewer. To everyone who still comments, you are my heroes! ^^

. o O o .

With his eyes on the immaculately-kept garden outside, Thuggory stood at the large window in his study, with a disdainful look on his face. “So, tell me,” he sneered in his usual bored tone and without turning around. “Did anything worth mentioning happen today?”

Behind him, the servant nervously shuffled from one foot to the other. “No, your Grace. It was just the same as yesterday. The fighting grounds were filled with men practising their skills, but aside from one slight injury and a few cuts, nothing happened.”

“Idiots, all of them…” Thuggory huffed under his breath. For two days now, all these stupid men were preparing for the King’s ridiculous Dragon Hunt. As if that was anything but a complete waste of time. “Who got injured?” Maybe he was lucky. Maybe it had hit the right man again.

“Erm…” The servant took a moment to think. “Nobody important, I think. It was a man named Gregor, the firstborn son of the Baron of Greenbridge. But it was just a shallow flesh wound on his shoulder, nothing fatal.”

Grunting, Thuggory nodded. For a moment, he’d hoped that Eret had conveniently taken himself out of the game after all. But of course, he wasn’t that lucky. Besides, he surely would have heard about that already.

“So what did the ducal heirs do?”

“Sir Snotloud is still indisposed. Rumours have it that he won’t participate in the Hunt at all.” Thuggory nodded for his servant to speak on. The Westhill boy wasn’t of much interest to him anyway. “The Sirs Dagur and Eret were again practising in the fighting grounds, but just like yesterday, they were going at it lightly. It is assumed that they will only participate in the Hunt for show and all their training now is just so Sir Eret can regain his strength after the attack. Some even jokingly commented that his squire was working out harder than his master.”

Thuggory snorted but didn’t comment. Of course, the highborn heirs wouldn’t get their hands dirty and crawl through the forest for this pointless Hunt. Why would they? They had no use for a measly county somewhere far off their hometown. The same was true for Thuggory, of course, but in opposition to them, he at least had the decency to not even pretend that he would take part in this Hunt.

Although, they probably had no choice in the matter, he mused, grimacing. They held no power of their own, after all, always had to do what their fathers wanted. They had to participate in the King’s charade, if only to give it more significance.

Besides, if the latest rumours were true then the two Sirs were going to use this time away from the public eye in other ways anyway. Just thinking about that brought an angry sneer to Thuggory’s face. If that horse-loving fool really preferred men over women, then he deserved her even less.

Not that Eret should have any right to her in the first place…

“Was the Princess there, too?” he asked through gritted teeth. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

“Yes, your Grace. She arrived shortly before noon, joined the ducal heirs for lunch, and then stayed for a couple of hours to watch her betro– uhm… I mean, her soon-to-be betroth–”

Growling angrily, Thuggory whirled around, interrupting the man.

“She’s mine!”

With one furious motion, he wiped a sideboard nearby clear off everything, a carafe of wine and some glasses lading on the ground. They shattered with loud clangour, shards scattering everywhere and wine seeping into the carpet.

The servant winced but didn’t move. “Y-your Grace?”

But Thuggory didn’t reply. He just stared at his fist, anger making it tremble. Astrid was supposed to be his, always had been! Thuggory had known that since the day she was born, drummed into his head by his otherwise useless father. Sure, rumours had it that the King had made arrangements for her to marry one of the ducal heirs. But the grand dukedoms already were close allies of the crown, where was the point in handing the crown’s most valuable possession over to one of them? No, the only logical, only sensible, only possible option was to give her to him, to a powerful rival to buy his support.

Oh, yes, Astrid had been his since her very first breath. But she and everyone else refused to acknowledge that. All she’d ever done was mock him, during their youth and now as well. But, oh, she would learn her place! As soon as she was his wife and he could finally teach her some manners, she would never forget it again.

Thuggory took a deep breath to calm down again, just as the door opened and another servant poked their head in. They hesitated, probably taking in the mess on the ground, but were smart enough not to comment.

“Your Grace? Your… erm… your guest arrived. Where should I lead her?”

He smirked. Now, wasn’t that perfect timing? “Send her into the garden,” he ordered. “And clean the floor again in the meantime.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turned on the spot and walked outside. It was an unusually warm night for this time of year; maybe he would just stay here after his guest was gone. Although, it surely would rain later that night, judging by the clouds and humidity.

“Good evening, my Lord,” came a pleasant and familiar voice from the darkness behind him.

One side of his mouth tipped up into a lazy smirk. “Come here.”

The woman obeyed, came closer and bowed deeply before him. She was an Ástir, the same one he asked for every time. She was not from the main Temple that Fyrir Mala supervised but from one of the smaller district temples at the edge of the city. It was a temple that was specialised in a certain… taste. Thuggory wasn’t allowed to hurt her for real and if she put a stop to his actions, he had to abide immediately. Sometimes, like today, he loathed these rules, but he had to stick to them nonetheless. For now…

The Ástir not coming from the main temple also meant that she didn’t officially play a specific role. But she knew what he expected of her and had prepared herself according to his usual requests. She had some braids woven into her blond hair, and with her slim frame and grey-blue eyes, she was sufficient enough. His imagination could fill in the rest.

“Undress for me,” he ordered, and watched transfixed as she slowly slid off her elegant blue dress. He never looked at her face; that would have ruined the illusion. Instead, his eyes clung to every bit of bare skin she revealed, her shoulders, her breasts, her shapely backside, and he wondered whether Astrid’s curves would be equally appealing once she was his.

What followed was the same fantasy he always acted out when he summoned this Ástir. He made her kneel between his legs and worship his cock until it was hard and leaking. Then he grabbed her head and pushed her down. Tonight, he particularly enjoyed making her choke. The way her body seized, the lovely sounds she made, and the sporadic tears his actions inadvertently drew from her eyes – it all helped to curb and calm his anger. He wanted to come across her face, but that would only remind him that she wasn’t really Astrid. Instead, he made her swallow him down, her face hidden against his abdomen. After that, it was his turn to give her some attention. He made her get down on all four and slap her backside until it was glowing and his hand stung. Then he knelt behind her, fucked into her with his fist in her hair to keep her in place, and pumped her full of his seed, groaning in satisfaction.

Oh, he couldn’t wait until he could do this to Astrid.

Until she was his!

The woman’s legs were wobbly when she got up and got dressed again. He liked to watch her as he enjoyed a fresh drink, liked to see his come slide down her legs and soil that pretty dress.

“Aren’t you tired of this game yet?”

The Ástir threw a curious look at the newcomer, but upon Thuggory’s gesture, she quickly left the two noblemen alone.

“Jake,” Thuggory greeted the other man with an unnerved sigh. “Can’t you wait until after my entertainment is over?”

Lord Jake of Blackshire laughed and lounged down into another chair on Thuggory’s ample terrasse. “Why? Isn’t it always the same anyway? Although, I understand your frustration. It doesn’t seem like your plan is working. Your precious princess is about to marry Sir Eret,” he sneered, “and after that first failed attempt, they won’t risk him getting killed again.”

“I know,” Thuggory growled. “But he promised I would get her as my bride if I fulfil my end of the bargain. And I have! The riots are spreading over the entire kingdom. Soon, the King will be too busy with an open civil war to care about any other threats.”

Jake snorted, audibly rolling his eyes. “Oh, the mysterious man in the shadows. Seriously, who is he that he can make such promises?”

“That’s none of your concern. You can’t betray information you don’t have; the less you know the better. All you need to know is your part.”

Jake leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “And I did my part,” he hissed. “Your old man is gone and you took his place.”

“And you got your promotion, didn’t you? Captain?”

Jake growled. “That was only half of the bargain. What about my father?”

Thuggory waved him off. “All in good time. And don’t you forget your place, son of a baron.”

He could hear how Jake gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride. “You’re right, Milord. Please forgive my impertinence.”

Nodding, Thuggory accepted the apology. Jake was one of his most loyal supporters, maybe even someone he would call a friend. He just had to make sure the man didn’t forget his place from time to time.

“Anyway. He said he would take over the Kingdom when the time is right. And that I can have her then.” He snorted. “Not that she’ll be of any political worth then anymore, that stuck-up bitch! She should be betrothed to me now! Seriously, what are they even thinking up there in the castle? It’s so obvious, their downfall will be their own fault!”

His hand tightened around his drink, the glass nearly breaking again. How could the King reject his marriage proposal for Astrid? As Duke of Meathead, he was one of the most powerful men in the entire Kingdom, with his Dukedom of not small influence and so close to the capitol. The King couldn’t afford to not have him as his ally! Oh yes, all the riots and problems in the Kingdom were the King’s own fault. If only he’d agreed to give his daughter’s hand to him, then the peace could have been maintained.

Oh, but she would pay for her father’s mistakes! With the Ástir, he was bound by law to abide by these boring rules. But once it was Astrid as his wife in his bed? Then nothing would keep him from using her like he longed to. Oh, he couldn’t wait to make her scream.

“If only that loser had managed to kill Eret during the tournament,” he grumbled, downing the rest of his drink. “Then they might come to their senses after all.”

Jake chuckled. “Were you able to find out why he tried that attempt by now? Do you know who instructed him or whether his family got an unexpected payment? Or did he really just do that on his own?”

“I don’t know.” Thuggory shook his head. “Him doing that just on his own makes little sense, but I wasn’t able to find any connections, no-one who could have ordered him to try that attempt. Were you more successful in finding out anything about that rumour about Eret and Dagur?”

Jake leaned back in his seat and grimaced. “No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t find out who started it; in fact, it seems like it started at more than one place at once. Some leads point toward the servants’ market, others to a tavern that’s popular with soldiers, and some even hint that they started at some tea party one of the higher noble ladies held. So, whoever really is behind it, they are good. And as for whether the rumour is true… Well, there’s no proof, obviously. But either way, the princess doesn’t seem to care whether her future husband prefers playing the flute over the violin.” He accompanied his words by outlining a distinct curvy form into the air.

Thuggory snorted. “Too bad. But then she wouldn’t even have a clue about what it means. It was a long shot anyway.”

“I could try to get proof,” Jake offered. “Officially, Eret and Dagur are participating in the Hunt, but that’s just a front, obviously. What would they need that county for? So, if these rumours are true, then they will spend the days in some inn and fuck each other senseless. And if some of my men accidentally storm the room when they hear screaming…” He grinned menacingly.

Thuggory laughed, once. He knew why he kept Jake around. But then he shook his head. “Tempting. But he ordered me to keep my hands off the ducal heirs. He must have plans for them, though he wouldn’t tell me what they are.”

Jake snickered. “So his high and mighty Grace, the Duke of Meathead, doesn’t know everything, either?”

“Oh, shut up,” Thuggory muttered. “I might not know everything – for the same reasons that I won’t tell you more too – but I still know enough. I know that this summer is going to see a lot of changes and that for the next Midwinter Nights, the Gods will witness another kind of sacrifice .”

“Let me guess. Will it be a more… royal sacrifice? Oh, I’d love to see the Prince bleed out. He overlooked me a few too many time and–”

“Quiet!”

Thuggory’s voice was sharp, silencing Jake in an instant. He held up a hand to keep him from asking any questions, as his eyes focused on a bit of shrubbery in his garden. It had moved just now, and he could swear that there’d been a noise, too. Something of a gasp.

He gave Jake a sign who nodded and they both stood up.

“Yes, it really was a shame how you’ve been ignored for all this time,” Thuggory lamented. He walked around and rummaged about with a new drink, covering up any noises Jake might make. “And all that just because you misbehaved a few times here and there. It really wasn’t your fault that this tavern got destroyed now, was it?”

It happened with a swiftness and accuracy Thuggory couldn’t help but silently salute. Within only seconds, Jake had reached into the shrubbery and dragged out the cretin who’d dared to spy on them. “Ha! Got him!”

“Very good,” Thuggory sneered as he came closer. “The Prince was indeed a fool to disregard your talents.”

Jake grinned.

“But now, who do we have here…” Thuggory let his eyes roam over the young man. In the dim light of the night, he wasn’t able to see much, only an untidy mob of dark hair, clothes too simple for a nobleman, and a face that seemed vaguely familiar. “I know you, don’t I?”

The man pressed his lips together and glared at him in a useless attempt to look threatening, despite the knife at his throat. It was almost cute. No, this was no man; calling him a boy was more fitting.

“You certainly have,” Jake snorted. “He’s a squire of one of our beloved ducal heirs.”

A dark grin spread over Thuggory’s face. “Oh right. Now, what are you doing in my private garden? You wouldn’t be here to spy on me, would you?”

The boy was trembling now. Though Thuggory couldn’t blame him; Jake was pressing his knife against the skin at his throat now so he wouldn’t get any ideas and yell for help. Everyone with at least a little bit of sense would be scared.

“I-I heard what you said about Prince Daniel,” he squeaked, terror in his thin voice. “But you won’t get away with that! Not now that I know about what you’re up to! I’ll go straight to the King and…”

Thuggory gave a bored sigh and nodded at Jake who hurled the boy around back into the shrubbery. A moment later, the gurgling sound of a cut throat could be heard, then a body slumping to the ground.

“I know it’s too late now,” Jake commented casually as he wiped off his blade in the grass. The coming rain would wash away all traces of blood. “But I thought you were supposed to keep your hands away from the ducal heirs.”

“The heirs, yes. Nobody ever said anything about their squires.”

Jake snorted but otherwise didn’t seem to be concerned in the slightest. “So, what shall we do with him?” he instead asked, nodding at the shrubbery.

“Just get rid of the body, I don’t have any use for it. Although…” Thuggory paused, then stepped to where the dead boy lay. He kneeled down and after a quick inspection took a heavy ring off the boy’s finger, a decorated knife from his belt, and a handful of coins from his pocket. The fact that he’d had these things in the first place revealed his simple clothes to only be a charade. “Make sure the body won’t get found right away, but also don’t make it too complicated. Let it look like someone was running out of time.”

Jake nodded, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “I know just what to do. And what’s this for?” He gestured at the boy’s belongings in Thuggory’s hand.

“Oh, this.” Now, it was Thuggory’s turn to smile cruelly. “I’ll use these things to cause a little chaos. I might not be allowed to harm Eret directly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.“

. o O o .

AN: So…Thuggory really is an asshole! Abusive, violent, deluded, and just Evil.

But! He didn’t plan the attack on Eret and neither did he spread the rumour about Eret and Dagur. In fact… he’s not that much of an evil mastermind at all…

So… where does that leave us?

…

On a side note. Many of you guessed that Daniel would die in this chapter or that it would be revealed that he’d died some while ago already. And I just want to say… I don’t consider Daniel to be a minor character at all.

And last but not least: There’s a phrase I used in this interlude that I’m very fond of… but that sadly isn’t my own creation. It’s the part about "him preferring to play the flute over the violin.” I can’t say for sure where it comes from, but I know that I read it in the “Die Legende von Askir” series by Richard Schwarz.

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If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

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Next chapter

#FTLOAP #For The Love Of A Princess #Hiccstrid #fanfiction #httyd #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #medieval au #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #Minor Character Death #tw: abuse mentioned

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holeinotomemind · 4 years

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MLQC Fanfic: Hearts of Storm - Ch 1 - A New Mission

WARNING: NSFW/18+ fic. No smut in this chapter, but eventual smut, dub/non-con, eventual 3P, spoilers, long dragged out fic and angst. Not morally correct. Turn away if this is not your thing. Pairing: Shaw x MC, Gavin x MC, Shaw x MC x Gavin AO3 Link: [here] Summary: Thrust into a world where her friends no longer remembered her, Yui must navigate the familiar yet foreign Loveland City while she battles her sorrows of not having Gavin by her side. As the only person who remembers her, the bratty Shaw forced his way into her heart, becoming the light in her seemingly endless darkness. But when Gavin regains his memories of her, how must she face him with her newfound feelings for Shaw? Will things returning to normal thrust her life into even more chaos? Notes: [See full notes on AO3] Special thanks to Lutz, Sonicaj and Kinako for beta-ing. EXTREME SPOILER ALERT. Follows some canon events, but order and duration are changed and rearranged.

She followed him again today. Yui had been abusing her premonition evol these days, making accidental brushes against strangers whenever she can.

She would bump into as many passengers on the bus as she could without causing a scene, brushed her hand against the coffee shop staff as he handed her the coffee, even went out of her way to pet every dog in the park that would allow her to do so without biting her hand off.

She was being obsessive, she knew that. But that was the only way.

The only way she could try to catch a glimpse of him. Of her Gavin.

Each and every time she touched someone, there was a chance for her to see a vision. And for every vision she saw, there was a chance for it to involve the military.

And every time the military was involved, there was a chance that Gavin would be there, so she could go and try to catch a glimpse of him.

She didn't care if what she was doing was unethical, if every single vision she saw weighed on her soul, if arriving at every single possible incident meant risking her life. If she could see him, even for one single second, it would be worth it, even if he never saw her.

In fact, it was probably better if he never saw her. Otherwise, he would definitely have suspected her of being a spy again and he would have treated her the way he did last time.

She couldn't forget how cold his eyes were the last time they met, when he shoved her against the wall and placed those handcuffs on her. She could still remember the feeling of those cold metal digging into the delicate flesh on her skin.

She had never seen him look at her with so little trust in his eyes. Not when he was helping her reach the poetry volumes on the tall library bookshelves during high school and definitely not after they reunited when he transferred back to Loveland City as a police officer.

So, yes. It was for the best that he did not see her. At least that way, she could still imagine.

Imagine nothing had changed. Imagine he was only out on one of those missions where he could not contact her. Imagine that he would show up at her window some time tonight, asking her if she wants to go stargazing with him.

But she knew this illusion wouldn't last long. So far, her visions had only been of sightings of military investigations and other successful operations. But she knew that sooner or later she would see something bad, something preventable and she would have to try to intervene.

And then, she would have to stare into those cold distrustful eyes again. She would be forced to face reality.

The reality of Gavin no longer being hers. The reality of Gavin not knowing her as if she never existed in this dimension.

It hurt to remember how he questioned her intentions towards him. It hurt to tell him that he was her senpai and he barely believed her.

So she tried to forget reality, tried to imagine they were still living in their original dimension, where his eyes lit up every time he saw her. Where he touched her with so much gentleness that it made her want to cry. Where he would blush every time she mustered up the courage to tell him how much she loved him.

She knew she was being willfully in denial, but if that could stop the hurt in her chest for just one minute, she would gladly do so.

Yui turned her head up to the sky as she heard the sound of the blade of a helicopter closing in. Her hands pressed against the shop window of the cafe where she had been sitting in for the last three hours, waiting for this very moment.

As the noise grew louder and louder, the military chopper came into view. She held her breath, eyes glued to it as it hovered over the park a block away from the coffee shop.

The door slid open and a tall figure in dark military uniform came into view. His brown hair flying every which direction as the strong wind blew around him.

She watched as he quickly surveyed the ground, preparing to jump out of the helicopter.

Yui opened her mouth to silently mutter, "You look well today. Stay safe, Gavin. I miss you." And for that brief moment, her heart stopped aching.

He was gone from her line of sight the next moment, having jumped out and began to fly towards his destination.

She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and convinced herself that was enough. Enough to support her through the next few days or weeks without spiraling into the endless abyss in her mind that was constantly threatening to drag her in ever since she came to this dimension.

She could now function until the next time she saw him again. And she was determined to function through this. Too much was at stake otherwise.

Black Swan was still scheming to turn everyone into an evolver, while non-evolvers were banding together to wage war against those with evol abilities.

She could not afford to sit back and wither away while watching the world fall apart. She had come too far to give up now, regardless of how much she wanted to curl up in a ball at the loss of everything and everyone important in her life.

It was the least she could do, when Gavin worked so hard to protect everyone, whether in this dimension or the last.

The buzzing sound of her phone brought her back from her thoughts.

"Hello, Shaw." She answered the phone without even glancing at the caller ID. After all, there was only one person left in this world now who would call her.

"You got the file?" Shaw yelled over the phone, the background noisy as usual.

Yui plugged one ear with a finger and pressed the phone closer to her other while turning up the volume. He must be at Live House with a live concert going on. She could hear loud music playing in the background and people cheering. Before she met Shaw, she always thought these live shows only played at night, but she was wrong. Apparently, they played whenever they wanted to.

"Yes. Where do you need me to go this time?" She asked with a voice loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that people from the cafe wouldn't be disturbed.

"Getting efficient, huh?" He said with a voice that was obvious he was smirking on the other side. "The amusement park."

She froze. She was ready to work, to gather intel for Shaw, hoping it would get her mind off of her current situation, even for a tiny little bit. But she didn't expect it to be at the amusement park of all places.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He asked when she didn't reply.

"Does it…" She hesitated, not wanting to give Shaw the opportunity to learn more of her weakness, but she didn't know if she had it in her to go there. "Does it have to be the amusement park?"

"You think intel goes wherever you want it to go?"

She clutched her fist and sighed. He was right. The file he sent clearly indicated that someone was planning an attack. If SHAW said she could gather information at that location to prevent it, the suspects must have left a trail there and not somewhere else. After all, SHAW had never pointed her to the wrong location yet.

But she'd rather go anywhere but there. Send her to the headquarters of Black Swan for all she cared, just not the amusement park.

"Fine. You got me interested. What don't you like about the amusement park?" He usually didn't seem to care about what she does or does not want, but this intrigued him.

"Nevermind. I'll go. I don't want to talk about it." Her voice flat. She didn't want him to ask any further. She would rather face the pain herself than to expose more of her weakness to him. "Besides, you were going to have me go regardless, no?"

"You're no fun." He tutted at her. He paused for a second before resuming with a voice deeper than usual. "I bet it's because of him. You guys probably went on stupid lovey-dovey dates there and so you don't want to go back when he's not with you."

SHAW’s guess was dangerously close to hitting a bull’s eye.

She and Gavin did go on a date at the amusement park, but he was so stupid and so unromantic that he ended up talking on the phone the whole time they were on the Ferris Wheel. She got so upset with him she didn't even want to talk to him. Of course, they made up in the end, but that now-cute memory, as much as it pained her to remember, wasn't the one she was most afraid of reliving.

It was the wedding shoot. Gavin and her stood in for the 100th couple who backed out of the shoot last minute. Although they weren't truly getting married, the memory of her in the wedding gown standing beside Gavin in his blue striped suit, telling each other they were the only ones they ever wanted to be partners with in a wedding whether real or fake was too much for her to bear. It reminded her too much of what might never be if she wasn’t able to fix the situation of her not existing in anyone’s memories in this dimension.

Having to be back at the location that would force her to relive this memory, she wasn't sure if she could keep herself together let alone complete the mission.

But this was private. A memory she wanted to hold so dear that she did not want to discuss with anyone in fear of losing it just like how she lost everything else. It was an irrational fear, of course.

But with so much going on, she felt the need to allow herself to be irrational on this one thing.

She kept her silence, having already said what she wanted to say on the matter.

"Doesn't matter," he finally said, seemingly irritated by her silence. "You start tomorrow."

The line went dead. He hung up on her.

Loud thunder cracked through the air. She jumped at the sound and wondered why the weather was so strange in this dimension. It was a bright sunny day outside.

Yui shook her head and thought of SHAW again.

She didn't understand him. On the outside, he seemed like any other 20 year old little brat, without a care in the world and yet he was doing all these things to gather information and even had Black Swan and evol agents from the STF going after him. He even had connections to make fake identities that would pass most government checks for her. All signs pointed to him being a big player in these schemes everyone seemed to be weaving.

However, his attitude were also too laissez-faire, too chaotic. He wasn't like anyone she had known.

He was a leader, much like Victor, but unlike Victor who always had a clear destination, he may lead you in a wild goose chase for his own amusement.

He played, much like Kiro, but unlike Kiro who was like sunshine and puppies, he plays with you like a cat would a mouse.

He was mysterious, much like Lucien, but unlike Lucien who would always plan five steps ahead in everything, he seemed only to have an end goal in mind, making things up as they unfold.

And he was nothing like Gavin. In fact, other than his eye color, his jawline and the fact that they were both amazing bass players, he was the total opposite of Gavin. Where Gavin was gentle, SHAW was rough. Where Gavin always strive to do the right thing for the greater good, SHAW seemed to only do things for his own benefit.

But it didn’t matter what kind of person SHAW was or what his goals were. In this partnership, Yui and SHAW took what they needed from each other, that was it. Nothing more and nothing less.

Placing her cell phone in her pocket, she gently touched the ginkgo bracelet on her wrist before she stood up and walked out of the coffee shop. As cold air rushed at her face, she adjusted her winter jacket and pulled the hood over her head.

She had one night to steel herself from the emotional onslaught that was sure to come during the next few days. But she had agreed to take on the mission and she would not allow herself to back down or to fail it. She would give it her all, even if it meant ripping the still-open wound in her heart even wider.

Yui stepped forward with stubborn determination in her stride.

#mr love queen's choice #mlqc #mr love fanfic #mlqc fanfic #fanfic #mr love shaw #mlqc shaw #ling xiao #mr love ling xiao #mlqc ling xiao #mr love gavin #mlqc gavin #bai qi #mr love bai qi #mlqc bai qi #love and producer #love and producer gavin #love and producer shaw

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

The Last of The Real Ones - Noel Kreiss x Fem!Reader Pt 8

DRAMAAAAAA!

~~~~~

Part 8: The Last of the Real Ones

“My Angel.”

“Bhunivelze…” I mumble, fighting the headache pressing against my skull. “I…I couldn’t complete the Soulsong.”

“Worry not, my Angel. Come to me.”

My arms quiver as I sit up. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Come to me. Serve as my Angel. And I will save your friends.”

Those magic words are all I need. Against the screaming of my muscles and the sickness I feel, I stagger to my feet. I start for the door on the other side of the room when I see a familiar, floating, white creature.

“Mog?”

“Wah! You’re alright, kupo!” He flutters towards me, running into my chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help Lightning, kupo! You look like you were hurt pretty badly, kupo.” Before I can say anything, Mog produces a bottle and shoves it into my hands. “Take this and help save everyone, kupo!”

Guilt fills my chest but Mog may have just handed me my saving grace. “Thank you, Mog.” I place a kiss on the moogle’s cheek and head through the door. The potion does its magic, relieving my pain as I hurry along the path. At the end, I can see lights off in the distance. I can sense all my friends, but I can also sense God. I see the Eidolons engulf themselves in light and fly at Bhunivelze. I race for them, determined, desperate, and using every power that God has given me. The attack gets deflected, blowing the Eidolons back at their summoners.

“What?!” Snow exclaims.

I look at each and every person, preparing myself for the fight of my life, but my eyes catch on the brunette—he survived. I begin to think it better that he didn’t. I don’t know if I can take him on again.

Vanille cries out, “Please stop! We were wrong!”

I take a deep breath, a pair of glowing, golden khopesh leaping into my hands. My old allies tense.

“It’s over,” snarls Fang.

Hope moves closer. “Please. You don’t want to do this.”

I raise a weapon to halt his advance and they seem convinced of my stance now. Snow is the first to break and attack. When I throw him back, the rest join in. All of them have always been strong so I become overwhelmed. I start taking in oxygen at a faster rate and heat blooms across my back. Snow’s blow to the cheek reignites my headache, but is also the final attack to bring me to the edge.

Using a trick I had learned from Caius, the fire erupts around me and the humans shrink beneath me as I become one with my Eidolon, Ifrit. Baring rows of teeth in my new form, I stare down at them. Snow and the Shiva sisters kick up the fight again. The eidolons make the fight significantly more difficult, but having used my body to summon Ifrit, I’m stronger than all of them.

Fang quickly follows Bahamut across the space. Not a single one of them was prepared for me here, not in this state. The rose-haired woman kneels before me, exhausted. My hand engulfs her, raising her in front of me. A deep-rooted guilt fills my chest but this is for their own good.

“Why are you doing this?” grimaces Snow. A low rumble leaves my throat. My silence is not enough of an answer for him. “Dammit! Answer me!”

“For you.”

Hope regains his stability. “What do you mean? How is this for us?!”

“Don’t you understand what he’s doing?! What he wants?!” Fang shouts.

Vanille adds, “He wants to destroy all the souls of the dead! They won’t be reborn in the new world if he gets his way!”

“They don’t matter.” They gasp and look to each other. I look to the brunette who seems furious with me. “Only you.”

“You have done well, my Angel. Now end this so everyone can live in blissful paradise.”

“And Serah? Yeul?” I ask, making clear eye contact with the Savior.

“Of course.” A pair of lights flickers between me and my opponents, taking form as the lost girls.

“Serah?!” Snow exclaims.

My heart quivers at Noel rushing for the second girl. “Yeul!”

“See. Everyone is here. Now end this. Fulfill your duty and attain your happy ending.” My grip on the rose-haired woman tightens and she grimaces.

“That’s not Serah or Yeul!” My eyes snap to Hope. “They’re lies!”

“It’s true,” Lightning chokes.

Hope announces, “Bhunivelze can’t pull souls from the Chaos. He can’t truly bring people back from the dead. That’s why he created other gods, to find the door into the unseen world where the dead wait in the Chaos to be reborn.”

“No…” I say in disbelief. “No! I was promised safe passage for all my friends!”

“Do not listen to them. Remember your focus.”

“He’s trying to destroy those souls with the Soulsong because he has no control over them. All he can do is create illusions to fool you.” My grasp on the woman loosens.

“Are two little girls, who were not strong enough to have survived, worth losing the rest of them?” The two girls vanish. “Are those two worth these six? Besides, with the seeress gone, you’re free to charm the hunter yourself.” Noel’s eyes narrow and the guilt only rises in my chest. “Isn’t his companionship what you’ve always truly wanted?”

“We can save them,” Fang interrupts. “If we stop Bhunivelze, we can bring the souls of the dead with us, including Serah and Yeul!”

“You know this is wrong! I know you don’t want to do this!” Noel shouts.

A hand rests against mine and I look to the woman in my hand. “We can all go together, but only as long as Bhunivelze doesn’t win.”

Fighting the hot tears threatening to well up, I let out a heavy breath. I release my captive before turning to the god, releasing a roar. “YOU LIED!”

His surprise turns to anger. “Do you forget who your master is?!” A blinding pain starts at my left eye, forcing a pained howl from me. “Do you forget what happens if you do not complete your focus for me?!”

Fighting through the pain, I look him in the eye. “You truly don’t understand human hearts do you? If you did, then you’d know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my friends. You’d know that I would do anything to make them happy! YOU’D KNOW THAT I’D BECOME A MONSTER TO SAVE THEM!”

“As you wish.”

The pain suddenly spikes and I double over. I hear my name from my friends but my grip on my control is staggering. A crystalline parasite creeps across my skin. No matter what I do to fight it, I am being consumed. This is my failure to complete my focus and my fall to a Cie’th.

~~~~~

It feels like I’m underwater, floating in a void of my remorse. This is my end; whether the world ends or my friends finish me off, it’s over for me. The darkness begins to envelope me, gnawing away at my consciousness. The last of me begins fading even from this abyss; I’ll cease to exist soon. I can only pray Noel will be happy with Yeul.

A muffled sound amplifies the underwater effect.

Is someone there? There isn’t; just emptiness all around. But I hear it again, a little clearer.

“-to me!”

Noel? He’s definitely not here but that’s definitely his voice.

“I know you’re in there! You have to fight this!”

“Noel?! Noel, where are you?!” The panic is slowly setting in.

“If anyone can break out of this, it’s you!” A spark of light ignites in the distance. That’s where his voice is. I start struggling against the darkness. “COME ON! Are you gonna let that liar win?!”

“I’m trying!”

“Are you gonna let some pathetic god destroy everything you’ve been fighting for?!”

I manage to break into a run. “I…I can’t give up now!”

“Are you gonna leave after all the shit you put me through?!” The light grows closer but I don’t let up my sprint. “ARE YOU GONNA LEAVE ME HERE ALONE WITHOUT GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO SAY I LOVE YOU BACK?! ANSWER ME!”

“NO!”

The battlefield returns to me. The others are watching, waiting for me to make a move, but the weight around my neck draws my attention downward. Clinging to me is the only person who could have brought me back.

“I didn’t think so,” he breathes. It may be marred by tears, but there’s a smile there—a smile for me.

The destructive instinct of the Cie’th threatens to take over and I stumble back, fighting against it.

“Woah! Hey!”

“End this.”

“What?!”

A roar of pain tears from my throat. “END THIS NOW!”

Noel’s hand, warm and comforting, rests against my arm. “It’ll be over soon.”

These attacks are different from before, full of mercy rather than desperate conflict, but that doesn’t make them hurt any less. The Cie’th inside attempts to lash out but I make it endure this destruction with me.

The javelin is pulled from my chest and I collapse, all pain and even the Cie’th will dissipating. The crystal encasing me begins flaking away, dissolving into nothing. Finally, all the shame and the burden of my focus hit me along with the relief of having failed.

A hand rests against my face and I see Noel coming in and out of focus.

“I just wanted to save you.”

“I know. But it’s okay now.” His face clears up just in time for me to see him say it. “I love you.”

Those words break my heart. I spent so long denying myself, but here, in the end, I just can’t. I love him; I really do and I always have. And perhaps, if I had admitted that sooner, it could’ve saved us all so much heartache. At least here, in the end, I finally tell him. “I love you too.”

Noel leans, pressing his lips to my cheek. “I’ll see you again soon.”

I cling to my consciousness until the last moment; I want to be with him, to keep him in my thoughts until the very end, to love him until my dying breath. And I do.

#noel kreiss #noel kreiss x reader #lightning returns #lightning returns final fantasy 13 #lightning returns final fantasy xiii #ff noel #ff noel kreiss #ffxiii noel #ff13 noel #ff13 noel kreiss #ffxiii noel kreiss #ffxiii-2 #ffxiii-2 noel #ff13-2 #ff13-2 noel #fem!reader

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theeternalspace · 5 years

Text

In Memoriam 15

Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince.

Only, it wasn’t a tree.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was… a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost.

But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.

Story Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.

Previous || Next

It wasn’t like the movies.

There was no slow motion of the rest of the world, no moment where things seemed to snap into place in his head. No breathing out and understanding this was where it was always going. There was no snap second choice where Virgil saw everything so clearly and realised what he had to do in order to save the day. Virgil couldn’t even point to the moment when he decided what he was going to do. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure if there had been a moment, if there had even been a choice or if he had always known how this would end and his agonising over it had been mere dusty and illusion, agonising over style instead of substance.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to put it off for a second longer, as if he could somehow block out the sight of Roman’s sad eyes and thus deny the reality of what was happening. Virgil really wished he hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning. Too late for that. Again, again, a resounding refrain that made his insides quake, too late for second guessing. Too late to go back to sleep.

Time to close his eyes, and leap.

“I’m sorry...” Virgil’s words were spoken in a whisper but they could have been shouted for how they filled the space around them. “I... you should be able to make this choice yourself. It should be up to you and only up to you.”

Nothing but the truth. Nothing to summon back Deceit and if the world was fair and even and full of good people who always made the good, lawful choice then it really would be up to Roman. It really would be lawful and just. Not the best choice perhaps, but in a fair world it would be his and only his. Roman relaxed, fingers slipping a little from their grip around the orb. It was perhaps a little unfair to trick Roman like this, to make him think one thing when Virgil knew of all the words still unspoken.

He didn’t know Virgil. He didn’t even know the world. There were no memories to tell Roman that the world wasn’t fair and filled with rainbows and candy. Nothing to tell him that Virgil certainly wasn’t the good person he had somehow tricked Roman into thinking he was. Nothing to warn him of a terrible string, a terrible betrayal.

Go big or go home, so they said.

Well, in this case, Virgil felt as though he was going to do both. If he was going to ruin his friendship with Roman - again, a question, again a maybe as though something could be salvaged out of this wreck - then he was going to go out like a shooting star. Maybe the drama of the moment would one day bring a smile to Roman’s face.

Maybe he would only hate Virgil for the rest of their lives instead of all eternity.

Deceit had spoken of a price when he had returned the memories, he had given his own and Virgil had willingly accepted that. Deceit hadn’t realised that there was a second price, that there would be more to pay. Maybe it was the Imagination shifting again, forcing them to obey the rules of this place, the random whims of a mind much bigger than their own having decided that what Deceit had bound Virgil to agree too wasn’t payment enough.

Was it supposed to hurt this much?

Doing the right thing?

How could Patton stand it all the time? To be the representation of right and wrong, to be morality and know that sometimes that meant doing things you didn’t really want to but knew that you had to? For the good of someone else?

“I’m so sorry,” Virgil whispered once more and there had to be something in his tone that betrayed him that time, something that made Roman frown a little, mouth forming into a small little ‘o’ shape as he started to ask a question no doubt. Or say something that Virgil really didn’t want to hear. He couldn’t give Roman any time to work through it in his head, he couldn’t be selfish for any longer. No matter how comforting it was to have his friend this close, to call him his friend, Virgil still was weighed down by the knowledge it would be the last time.

And all last times have to come to an end.

Virgil pulled his arm back and with all the strength he could muster, he threw the orb of memories, watching as it sailed past them both, flying above Roman’s attempt to catch it and spinning through the air. There was no stopping it now, no changing the course of this action. He was committed and in those few seconds all Virgil could do was mourn what was about to end.

His aim was not what it could be.

The orb flew through the air, glancing off the cheek of one of the statues, a crack of light shining out from the round object, a lightning scar shape as if the orb was nothing more than a golden - white - snitch and Harry Potter all in one. It was a reminder that even in this moment, the Imagination ruled all, that everything tied back to Thomas and the many worlds he loved.

This throne room was not everything Thomas represented. Which meant this moment was not everything that there was to offer, it wasn’t everything that Virgil had left to encounter. Virgil wasn’t sure yet if that was a good or bad thing.

For one glorious moment the whole throne room was filled with rainbow light as all the colours spilled out, bathing them in reds, oranges, yellows, greens, purples, the works. It gave even the most disturbing of the statues an almost playful edge to them, a hint of life outside of the misery and terror their expressions might have otherwise implied. Virgil found himself staring at the statue the orb had collided with, eyes fixed on that instead of anything else. He stared until his eyes started watering, the vivid colours of the rainbow bleeding into the corner of his vision and giving the whole situation a somewhere psychedelic look.

At any other time Virgil might have found it amusing, in a wet, choked sort of laugh that didn’t actually speak to any sort of humour. It might have been funny, in a dark, terrible sort of way, that the statue the orb cracked off was that of a faun, complete with a scarf and somewhat scandalised expression.

“No!” Roman’s cry tore him from the moment, the sound ringing out all the clearer because of how quiet the room otherwise was. Finally, Virgil allowed himself to look at the other side. There was such betrayal in his eyes, such pain that it took his breath away. It made Virgil want to run away and hide, to know that he was the cause of such a look, that he had hurt Roman in such a way.

So much for being Protection. So much for being good.

A good person didn’t hurt someone he considered a friend like that, he didn’t just stand there and let the pain continue to wash over them. A good person didn’t go against someone’s stated wishes. Whoever and whatever Virgil was, he couldn’t claim that word as his own any longer.

The water in his eyes got worse, vision blurring a little before he tried to blink it away, the stinging sensation only growing worse because of it. It was a mistake because getting rid of the water only threw the image of Roman’s betrayed and pain filled face into sharper contrast, only made his mind burn that image indelibly into his memory so that every blink simply brought it back up. The new star billing in his own personal horror show.

Virgil couldn’t look any longer. He didn’t know how long he had been staring - seconds, minutes, hours? It felt like an eternity but it couldn’t be anywhere close to that because the memory ball was still in the air, the moment was still in the balance, colours radiating from it as it went.

As if in slow motion, the orb continued its descent downward, flying at an awkward angle now, almost sideways as well as forwards. It hit the ground at the same angle, orb crunching and collapsing under its own weight.

The rainbow light became unbearably bright as the orb itself disintegrated, colours blending together, their own vibrancy fading under the sheer brilliance of a pure white that offered nowhere to hide, no escape from its scorching light.

Virgil twisted his head away, eyes screwing shut but even through his eyelids he could still see the white, could feel the burn as it became impossibly brighter and brighter. He lifted a hand as though that would somehow block it, the white bleeding into red through his skin, lighting up all the blood that pretended to pump its way around his body, that gave him the appearance of being human.

And then -

Roman screamed.

Right up until the second that Virgil had thrown the orb, Roman hadn’t quite believed he was going to do it. Even when his voice had twisted and broken on that apology and he had heard everything that wasn’t being said, still Roman hadn’t thought that he would really do it. That he would choose the other Roman over himself and it made no sense to him that Virgil would want that version of him back. Not to mention, everything he knew of Virgil told him that he would never betray a friend like that and Roman had hoped to count himself amongst the dark eyed side’s friends.

He had seen what he had been like to Virgil in the videos, he had seen the hostility and why would Virgil want that back? What could he possibly see in the old version of Roman that was worth saving, even at the expense of the new one?

Yet that seemed to be the reality because Virgil threw it and Roman missed his chance to catch it.

There wasn’t really time to ask any questions and where time had seemed to slow for Virgil, to Roman it was as though the opposite happened. The orb spinned over his fingertips with dizzying speed, ricocheting off one of the statues and crashing to the ground before he could do as much as form a single thought, able to shout a mere two letter word and nothing more.

The light swept upon him fast, engulfing the room in a harsh, horrible bright light that seared its way through him, striking him as though it was made up of some physical force and -

And -

And Roman remembered.

Everything.

The world was on fire. Endless agony that ripped him apart at the seams, Roman hearing the roar of his scream as though from a distance, not even realising that he was the one making the sound. He was bathed in the flames of a life exploding around him, as all the memories fought and jostled to return to some semblance of order. Suddenly, there it all was, back inside his head where it belonged. Every high and low, every glorious moment and crushing defeat. All back inside, all replaying on his closed eyelids like a movie in the highest definition, complete with more than simply surround sound.

He felt it. He felt it. It was as though Roman was living through those moments for the first time all over again only now they were all happening at once, a whole lifetime of memories and experiences condensed down to a few seconds of reality. They overlapped, each struggling against the other, all demanding to be heard and convinced that this memory was the most important, the one that would define who Roman really was. They all wanted to be heard and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the order in which they bloomed up in his mind, unfurling to all their great and terrible height.

Roman dropped to his knees without really thinking, hands lifting up to his head as he screamed and screamed. His voice was the only outlet he had for the agony that was burning through him, each memory slamming into the one that came before with all the force of a truck hitting a wall at full speed.

It was so much. Too much. All at once

He couldn’t breathe. There was too much going on, Roman simply screaming once more, and there had to be a breath of a sort for him to make such a sound but he couldn’t control it. Roman couldn’t seem to control much of anything at the moment, his whole body racked and twisted by the overload of emotion and thought that wanted to consume him.

He could feel the tears that were running down his face, hot salty tears that spilled out through mostly closed eyelids, winding their way down his cheeks in order to fall to the ground. The faint sound of ice shattering delicately at his feet danced in and out of his awareness, the drops freezing in the brief moment it took for them to fall. There was something else too, some other sounds besides agony and breaking. Over the sound of his own screams he could almost hear his own name being called, his mind scrambling to put a name to the voice.

Too much.

Still too much. Every part of him was bursting and there was no room to place names to voice or indeed anything else. There was no place for anything but the images that were searing themselves deep into his mind, particularly nasty moments of his life making him jerk and scream harder. Roman’s eyes were closed, tight as if that could somehow stop the light or the tears.

It only gave the images a blank canvas to protect themselves on.

Roman remembered helping Thomas win the golden apple. The sheer pride that he had felt as he had seen his host lift it above his head, and that was the moment when Roman believed that they could actually do this. Well, he had always believed they could do it, he had always known that thanks to him, Thomas would be the best that he could be. But that was the first time that he had believed he could convince Thomas of that too. That was the first time Thomas seriously considered - if only for a few moments before pushing it aside for the time being - that he could make acting his life. That Roman could be his life.

Nobody else had helped Thomas win that, or so Roman had been at pains to point out. It had been their victory - no Roman’s victory alone and the idea that Anxiety might have played a part in it had sent him into bouts of laughter, the sort that wasn’t humorous in the slightest. He had been so cold, so cruel to Anxiety in those days and although Anxiety had given as good as he had gotten, Roman had never bothered to think there was anything serious in it.

He had never wanted to know there was anything serious in it or that his words could ever seriously hurt Anxiety. Why should he care, when the other side did nothing but try and hurt him or his beloved Thomas. What a fool Roman had been in those days, so naive. His rage had fuelled comments he could remember now, moments that weren’t captured on video and were so much sharper, crueller than they had any right to be. Comments that must have hurt even if Anxiety never showed it.

Dimly, above the roar of his own heart, Roman wondered who had looked after Anxiety after those moments or if he had been truly alone. Roman had the other two to support him whenever Anxiety had been able to win an argument, and he could remember that now, how Patton would always be on hand to soothe his fragile ego, how he would bake cookies and remind Roman that he was the prince of their dreams. That always helped.

There was always someone to help Roman, someone to lift him back up. A support system built in and even Logan was part of it. Even though there had to be plenty of times when Logan found his behaviour... an annoyance at best, he still supported Roman. He still defended him and chose him over the darker elements, he still fought with Roman when they had a goal to achieve. Roman had a family, he had people who loved him, and that made him stronger. Roman had simply accepted that as reality. He had taken it for granted that he would have this support, and never once cared about the very real possibility that Anxiety didn’t. Why would he?

In his mind, Anxiety was the villain.

And with that, came the bad memories too. It was far worse than merely watching himself on the screen because he could remember the myriad of emotions that had surged through him as Anxiety pushed himself more and more into the spotlight. The rage that Roman had felt at the thought of how Anxiety was taking time and attention that should rightfully belong to Creativity. What use did Thomas have for the darker, depressing side? All Anxiety did was bring the mood down and he didn’t understand why anyone wanted him to hang around. He didn’t understand why Dad would sometimes choose to try and spend time with him, when he could be listening to one of Roman’s epic quests.

All the fans who had taken Anxiety to their heart were equally confusing and Roman had attempted not to let his hurt show at knowing that another side was almost as popular - more popular at times - than him.

Roman had tried to see things from their point of view, he had done his best to understand what it was about the moody emo that they liked so much, why there was such a large group of Thomas’ fans that wanted to see more of Anxiety - no, he hadn’t. He had made a token effort to try and see things from their point of view before deciding that it was a wasted effort and that he had better things to do with his time than try and get to know their resident storm cloud.

Because Roman was right and the rest of the internet was wrong, that was why.

End of story.

End of act one instead.

He remembered what it felt like to realise he was actually the one in the wrong. Like a physical blow, Roman remembered breathing in the air of Anxiety's room and the way the knowledge had settled on him like a slightly too heavy weighted blanket, shifted just a fraction off centre. He could feel it as though it was happening right this second, that moment when he had actually just looked at Anxiety and seen him for who he really was - not grumpy for the sake of it. Not dark for the sake of it. Anxiety was their protector in a way that Roman could only literally dream to be.

Not - not evil.

Soaring higher at last now, and Roman remembered the first moment he realised that Anxiety was truly Virgil now. The moment later when Virgil had pulled him aside after the Hogwarts video. His hands had been bunched up inside of his sleeves, a particularly nervous look in his eyes and Roman had felt his heart drop into his shoes. Was Virgil mad at him? For calling him the dark and sinister one? For wanting to put him into a neatly labelled box and not have to think about it ever again. One side for each house, and of course An-Virgil had to be in the evil one.

Virgil hadn’t wanted that. And Roman had come to realise that he didn’t want to put Virgil there, that he didn’t see the other side like that. He had even offered up his own house, offered to share. Anything to make the pain in his chest go away. Anything to make Virgil smile again and that was the moment when he realised that the other side wasn’t a villain. And perhaps had never been once.

An anti-hero at worst. Virgil hadn’t wanted to talk about any of that however. He hadn’t even wanted Roman’s feeble attempts at an apology, effortlessly brushing them aside with little more than a smirk and shake of his head. Instead, he had wanted to... thank Roman?

And didn’t that make Roman feel about five inches tall.

There had been just a hint of a nervous smile threatening to appear on Virgil’s face as he spoke, his whole frame looking as though it was one wrong word from catapulting himself out of the conversation and literally out of the room. He had reminded Roman in that moment of a partially skittish horse, someone that had been treated appallingly by every previous rider and was just waiting for the whip to reappear and dash his hopes. Virgil might had been so scared and yet he had pressed on in saying what he wanted to say.

He had wanted to thank Roman for the effort he had made.

It hadn’t been that much of an effort. To not make quite so many insulting remarks, to treat Virgil as an equal and worthy side, who deserved to be listened to and yet Virgil had acted as though it was something utterly novel and noteworthy. As if it was utterly breathtaking that they had gotten through a video without too many insults flung his way and that they actually listened to him and what he wanted, what he felt. Things moved much smoother when they actually took notice of what Virgil had to say, and here he was, thanking him for listening.

It made him feel even smaller to realise that to Virgil, it probably was completely new.

Roman had helped do that. There and then, he had vowed to make a serious attempt to get to know the anxious side, to do his best to brush aside his own ingrained opinions and thoughts, to ignore the whisper that pointed out how unfair it was that Anxiety was so much more popular than him. None of that mattered and so a new quest was formed, one that meant he would do whatever he could to prove himself. And to find out if Virgil was truly worth knowing.

Spoiler: he was.

Roman didn’t need to relive all of his memories to know that.

Best of all there was the moment when he realised Virgil was a friend, was part of his family and how he wouldn’t part with that friendship for the world. Roman didn’t even realise he was smiling, screams shifting to laughter as colourful memories that were good pushed against the darker ones from before.

The four of them scrunched up on the couch to watch some film, legs all tangled together and there were far too many arms, far too many bodies. It had been impossible to move comfortably, with almost every attempt to grab a handful of popcorn ending with spilled food or nudging into someone. They had talked over the majority of the movie, eagerly swapping facts or trying to tell someone what had happened in a scene they had missed, only to miss the next scene and by the end of it, Roman had no idea as to the plot.

It had been perfect.

Even waking up the next morning had been perfect. Wedged between Logan and Virgil, the logical side sleeping on his shoulder, glasses crooked, a small trail of drool winding its way down from the corner of his mouth and onto the white fabric of Roman’s outfit.

Which. Okay. Not amazing, yet still somehow perfect, knowing that the logical side still had this human element to him, that he was not as robotic as he tried so hard to be. It had been perfect because Logan had been there at all, and was willing to let himself be seen in a less than amazing light. He would have known that there was the possibility that this would be the eventual outcome.

Logan had made the choice not to sink out, he had fallen asleep with the rest of them. He had chosen to stay with his family, and that made all the difference, made a huge surge of feeling which far outweighed the momentary horror of discovering a small patch of wetness on his shoulder.

Roman could remember smiling at that sight. The memory made him smile too, feeling the warmth blossom inside his chest all over again and he loved them all so very much. He loved Patton, Logan, Thomas and Virgil so much that it almost hurt - in a good way, in a way that was nothing like the negative memories and everything like this feeling of warmth and contentment which settled around him like a cloak.

Then he had tried to move his neck and been reminded just why it was a bad idea to sleep on a coach in any situation, be it in a group or solo. The pain had been tremendous, almost worse than a stab wound, a burning fire that had spread up his neck and made him want to curse everything in existence. A pain that took time to fade, Roman having to force himself to stretch his neck again and again until he could move it without any discomfort at all.

Virgil had warned them and like fools they had not listened.

Then again, Virgil had fallen asleep in an equally uncomfortable position that make him hiss like a very angry cat when he woke up, so really, which of them was the real fool in that situation?

He remembered the moment Roman had realised that Thomas didn’t need to be world famous to achieve his dreams. The second it had finally twigged for Roman that this was his world, his family, his friends. And that world was what Roman should be fighting to protect over everything else.

Speaking of the world... This world had been created for Virgil to join him on a quest. A chance to really get to know the anxious side once and for all, to prove that he wanted to spend time with him for him and not just to keep Thomas level. They had done smaller things before, a brief walk here and there, the occasional duck into the side areas of the Imagination but this was something different. This was made all for Virgil, inspired by Thomas’ work in the real world of course but Roman had wanted to do something grander. He had wanted to make a world where everyone would see how great Virgil was. Where he could be a prince alongside Roman, and realize that Roman thought of him as great.

It was a shame that Virgil had showed no interest in any of that, the hurt as vicious and as biting as it had been the first time the anxious side had shut him down on his attempts to explain. His thoughts and plans on how to map it out burst back into glorious life, Roman unwittingly letting his energy spread out, pushing against the fading light and restoring it to a world that Virgil might enjoy once more.

Unknown to them both, a single green leaf sprouted on the tree nearest the lamp post.

The thaw had begun.

It had hurt, when Virgil had said no, but Roman had gone to all that effort and he wasn’t going to admit defeat and let it all go to waste. If Virgil didn’t want to join in, then fine. He would still visit it himself.

Roman remembered meeting the White Wizard. He remembered the moment of amusement that the Imagination had cast Deceit in that role before the wave of sadness had crashed through him all over again and Virgil would probably have thought of something witty and dry to say at the sight of that. He hadn’t understood why Virgil didn’t want to join him in his game - they had quested before in the Imagination, albeit never on so grand a scale as Narnia and was that the problem? No, Virgil had seemed almost hurt by the mere suggestion and that had confused him even more than the actual no had. There was no real time to brood on the mysterious behaviour of his darker friend because one moment he was trundling through the snow and the next the story was playing out in front of him.

If he was here alone then why shouldn’t he be Edmund as well as Peter? Who needed Virgil when he was Creativity, when he could do it all on his own? He was clever, smart, he was all the kind words that the White Wizard was cooing into the frigid air around them. There was no harm in eating the jelly and then telling the White Wizard whatever he wanted to know.

It would give him something to react as when he returned to the role of Peter. Something to defeat... and... there was an answer there, something hovering on the edge of his mind, a little niggle to explain Virgil’s behaviour before a spoon was offered. The rich Royal Jelly smelled delicious, begging him for a quick taste. It was for him, it was all for him, and Roman could always count on the Imagination to sooth his battered feelings.

Here, he was important. Here, he was favoured and that meant that this was his instead of Logan’s. Here, people were his friends without hesitation or obligation.

He remembered the sweet, sweet taste of jam on his lips, so rich and satisfying, so much better tha-

Body arched upwards, a moment of agonising stiffness, Roman’s eyes staring sightless upwards towards the ornate ceiling of the throne room. The screams and laughter had long since faded away into ragged breaths, his throat worn by the sounds and all Roman was capable of doing now was the faint sound of wheezing. Eyes snapped shut as rapidly as they had opened, everything fleeing his mind and body in one exhale of air.

He crumpled silently to the ground, unconscious before his body finished falling.

#sanders sides #in memoriam #aca writes #long post

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aliceslantern · 5 years

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Beyond This Existence: Counterpoint, chapter 15

Summary: After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3 Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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Ienzo made himself eat. He cut one of the white pills in half and took it, flinching at the bitter taste. He set a timer for the three hours, took the small hand mirror from his bedroom, and crossed back to Demyx’s room. He sat at the foot of the bed.

Mirrors and reflections always made this easier in the past. What else was an illusion than a reflection of hopes, or fears, or memories?

Ienzo leaned back against the bed frame. He waited some time for the medication to take effect, trying to keep his thoughts orderly and calm before proceeding. He didn’t think he would feel anything, but after about twenty minutes or so a vague tingling started in his extremities, and his vision became woozy. He was convinced that Even gave him a sleeping pill rather than a painkiller or nerve block, but the sensation wasn’t like drowsiness. The walls seemed to have no straight edges. His breaths felt foreign.

Ienzo picked up the mirror. There was his own face, clear as day. He shut his eyes.

Magic, aside from the most complex glamour, had always come easily. He understood now more than he had before how deeply Demyx grieved the loss of Arpeggio. Dark or not, this power had been part of him. His control over the illusion was a projection of the loss of control he’d had over his own life. Manipulating others had been the easy way out.

No more.

He took a deep breath, and let his memory drift back. Surely the utter clarity of his own memories was a sign he could still work with others’.

In the beginning, those first numb and horrifying weeks as a Nobody left him overloaded to the point of silence. Xemnas took Ansem’s role as their leader seamlessly, down to the name. At first it seemed clear to them that they would continue their experiments, albeit with a pool of participants all the World over. But Xemnas--Xehanort--had a larger goal in mind. Kingdom Hearts. To get there, they needed Keyblade users. So they were sent out into the World to try and find them. Heartless hunted him mercilessly, figuring due to his small size and fragile nature he was easy pickings. He returned badly wounded more than once before his power manifested.

Heartless, after all, were easier to fool than people. Give them a decoy and they’ll chase after it. As he grew, physically and mentally, so did his power. His illusions deepened, took on the ability to also interact with the senses. It was all perception, of course, entirely artificial. He found he could sense the memories of others, could build these memories in real time.

His own memory was easiest to work with. He straightened his spine.

Remember. And create.

Perhaps an emptier room would have been a better starting point. He imagined his other bedroom, from the Organization. The barren gray walls. The cold metal floor. The bookshelf packed with volumes with identical spines. The window out into the Nobody city, how it always had its own damp sticky scent. The feel of the black coat against his skin, soft and supple.

Despite the medicine, he could feel hollow echoes of pain gnawing hungrily. Ienzo touched the space below his nose--still dry. He opened his eyes.

The space in front of him had changed. The surge of relief he felt was nearly enough to shake what little illusion he’d built. It was an imperfect manifestation--things seemed to twitch in the corners and in some spots he could still see Demyx’s real bedroom peeking through, as if through a veil. But it was something.

He stood slowly, dizziness battering him. He approached the mirror above the dresser hesitantly, aware that Zexion’s room had been bigger and he likely hadn’t yet regained the ability to manipulate spatial perception.

Ienzo looked at himself--and flinched. Zexion stared back. He could feel his human clothes, but what he saw was the cloak.

“It’s over now,” he said to himself.

“Is that what you think?”

The reflection in the mirror moved with him, but the voice in his ear was definitely his own. Ienzo turned away. The facade of the cloak melted away, leaving him in his apprentice garb.

“Clever, clever Ienzo,” said the voice. “You should’ve realized that you’re not immune to your own manipulations anymore.”

Ienzo scowled. “You are a poor projection of my own guilt. I don’t need you anymore.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Come here.”

The illusion pitched and pulled. He found himself standing in a cold dark room in Castle Oblivion. A large and familiar book was in his hands. “So this is what you are,” he said. He looked down.

The color was no longer a sage green, no longer adorned with the Nobody insignia. It was a soft blue, with an artistic rendering of a heart.

“Old friend,” Ienzo said. “You’re different.”

“You do see why I haven’t come sooner?”

“I believe so. But do elaborate. It’s not often I can converse so clearly with my own subconscious.”

“You had to begin to forgive yourself. You had to accept the love you were given. Steep costs for you.”

Ienzo frowned, disappointed. “I’ve done it, then?”

“You may have a complex mind, but your heart is no different than anyone else’s.”

Ienzo stroked the soft cloth cover. It was an odd sensation, familiar-yet-not, like so much of this life. “So he was the key.”

“It didn’t necessarily have to be him. It could have been any love. Familial, platonic. This just so happened to be first.”

“Can I still help people?”

“That’s up to you.”

Ienzo opened the book. The lexicon had always been infinitely useful. Its pages seemed numbered, but the content was completely under his control. Whenever he read or wrote something, it could be accessed inside forevermore. He could access memories. Data.

The inside of the front cover was written in ink. Property of Ienzo, age 8 . He remembered that birthday Ansem had given him a fountain pen and he’d been incredibly proud of it. The handwriting looked similar to it had back then, an attempt at neatness and maturity, falling short.

“Was Even right?” he asked slowly. “Will this risk my life in the process?”

“All power has a cost. You know this.”

Ienzo stared down at the lexicon for several moments. There simply wasn’t time to parse this out properly. He had no idea how much of his three hours he’d already spent. Time he was wasting. Time that trauma could be eating Demyx alive. And if he were to do nothing , and Demyx were to lose the will to live, what then? Could he ever forgive himself? He might as well kill him with his own hands.

“Do you want this power back?” the lexicon asked.

“I cannot let people keep suffering.”

“Then there’s something we have to see.”

The pages of the lexicon shifted of their own accord. Within it was a memory, rendered as though it were a children’s story, with the same etched-looking illustrations.

Ienzo and Xehanort, walking through the castle. The ever-present sea salt ice cream.

“Seven years old. A grown up little man,” Xehanort said.

“Yes,” Ienzo said.

“Master says you’re doing wonderfully well in your studies. Most children your age are only barely learning to read and write, and you’re studying neuroscience. If only there were more minds like yours. This world would be a vastly better place.”

Reading it now, it was so incredibly obvious, the way Xehanort hefted and tugged the strings.

“I only wish he would let you help with our research. A fresh, young, innocent perspective might be just what we need.”

“I like helping.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I can ask again. I’m seven now.”

“It’s worth a shot. If that’s what you wish.”

The story faded, shifted to a new memory--Ansem’s study, Ienzo so very small in the chair across from his master, head bent over a book that filled his lap.

“Master?”

A kind smile. Ansem had always doted on him, except when it really mattered. “What is it, my boy?”

“Am I very smart?”

“Why yes--of course.”

“Can I help you work?” His speech then had been much simpler, much more plain. Initially, the trauma of losing his parents left him completely mute. It had taken nearly a year to shake the silence.

In the present, Ienzo felt something very like pain. He did not know if it was physical or emotional. “Why are you making me see this?” he asked the lexicon. “I know how it all went down.”

“Do you forgive him?” The text appeared on the page, no longer a whispered voice.

“Master Ansem? Is that… part of all this?”

“He is part of me. He is part of you. His choices have rippled through your life. Carelessly. He agreed to these experiments. He didn’t stop them until it was too late.”

“It is not my place to say anything of the sort.”

“Perhaps when you were a child. That’s not the case now.”

The book trembled in his hands.

“He gave me a home when no one else would,” Ienzo said.

“He said he would take care of us. But he changed his mind.” The book shuffled again, to a different illustration, of darkness consuming Even and Ienzo. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Of course it does, but that was not his choice, he was thrown into--”

“Do you forgive him?”

Ienzo swallowed. “Must I? To take back this power?”

“All it requires is clarity of thought.”

“Because lately that has been so easy.” His mouth was sour. “No. I do not forgive him. Not yet.”

The lexicon flicked through some illustrations. Being strangled to death, waking up as Ienzo, assisting Sora, reuniting with Demyx when he was a vessel. Reuniting with Ansem. Working on the replicas. And every little thing that had happened since then, one after the other, faster and faster, until--

The room in Castle Oblivion gave way to a starry night. Long grasses curled around his knees. Illumina petals, wild and free, glowed softly in the dark, lighting the path forward. Another thin finger of pain, gagged and numb, crawled up and down his spine.

“Where am I now?” Ienzo asked the lexicon, but its work was done; it was silent. He treaded the path. A gentle breeze stirred up the smell of the flowers. Time was truncating; it seemed like he walked both a very long way and not far at all. The scent of the field mingled with something like a sea breeze. He held the book tightly under his arm as a sort of anchor and kept walking, touching the spot below his nose every few hundred meters, but it remained dry.

He heard tides. Softly at first, then closer and closer. The field of grass gave way to sand, which was soft and cool under his now-bare feet. Ienzo’s illusions had never been this strong to him personally. If he had to, could he get out? The lexicon in his arms seemed to shudder a little. How much farther could he push?

The sea spread across the horizon. A quarter-horn moon coated everything in a silvery light. The surf looked calm, and gentle, but he could feel the pain radiating from it. He approached cautiously.

His powers were stronger and weaker than ever before. He had gone, somehow, from recreating memory to actively walking within it.

He set the lexicon down and placed a hand in the gentle, cold surf. Keyblade wielders--child warriors--gathered listening to a woman in a pink robe give an impassioned speech. Something about they will not remember. Fighting alongside other young children who called him another name, against Heartless and other deformed creatures, and the then-unscarred ground of the Keyblade Graveyard--

Ienzo yanked his hand out of the water, feeling as though he had somehow violated Demyx.

“Where are you?” he asked.

No response. He could see nothing, just sand, and water, and night. Ienzo took another step towards the water.

A harsh, sharp pain shot through his chest and back, almost knocking him over. This was too much power. The entropy. He had to act quickly. Otherwise this would all be for naught and they would both end up dead.

He waded into the water. It was icy cold, and painful. Little whisps of memory darted across his vision, memories that weren’t his. He tried not to look at them, but he couldn’t necessarily help it. Fights. Keyblades. Songs-- the most melancholic music he’d ever heard. He took a deep breath, and dove.

Demyx was drowning, immobile and sinking slowly, his palms outstretched. Ienzo, never the strongest swimmer, pressed hard against the viscous memory. His chest was hurting again, though whether it was from entropy or the perceived lack of oxygen he wasn’t sure.

Ienzo grasped his hand and felt something like a shock. The pain of it made him cry out and lose more precious air.

This was unnatural. This would have a price.

It was too late to turn back.

Ienzo grasped both of his hands and pulled. Between the weight and the effort and the memories, Ienzo couldn’t be sure he was bringing them to shore.

They surfaced at last. His muscles were weak and trembling. He dragged Demyx away from the surf and all but collapsed.

Demyx coughed and gagged, spitting up seawater. He groaned.

“Are you alright?” Even outside of the water, the pain was still there, hungry.

Demyx looked up. Apprehension and fear crossed his face, and for a moment Ienzo wondered if he should have left him in the water, if he were disturbing some necessary process. “Ienzo?” His voice was hoarse.

Ienzo breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Demyx, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here? How--” He coughed harder, and Ienzo patted him on the back.

“My power brought me here.”

“Your power?” He sounded incredulous. “I thought you didn’t have any--”

Ienzo picked up the lexicon and held it out to him. “I’ve found it. My power as Zexion let me bring people into their memory. It only seems natural that as Ienzo I can bring people out of it.”

“It’s different,” he said softly. Demyx shook his head. “Still, you’re in my head--this is weird.”

“I’m sorry. I… I was trying to help.” He looked out towards the sea. “You could’ve drowned. You were drowning. I could feel your heart there, so tenuous--”

“Memory,” was all he said.

“I know who you are,” Ienzo said. “Even told me. But I saw, too.”

His breath hitched. “I tried to tell you--”

Ienzo touched his face. Uncanny, how realistic the wetness and sand felt. “I know. You couldn’t’ve. I’m not mad at you.”

Demyx glanced away at him. His eyes were watering. “So much pain they tried to hide from us,” he said brokenly. “They did a shitty job. I can see everything that happened . ”

“Xehanort?”

He swallowed thickly. “The Foretellers.” His lip twitched. Ienzo drew him into his arms and Demyx started to cry.

Another pang of pain inside of his head. This time it was like lightning. Ienzo knew there would be blood before he even checked.

“Ienzo?” Demyx asked wearily. “What’s--”

“Come back with me,” Ienzo said. “Quickly. We both have to wake up.”

“You’re bleeding--”

“My power, it’s--” The agony tightened within him. He didn’t know how to get out of here, but he had to do it fast. Even his illusory body was losing strength.

“You’re burning out,” Demyx said.

“Worse. I’m--”

“Shit, shit, shit.” He was panicking. “Okay. Um.” He pinched himself hard. “Fuck, why did I think that would work? What do you normally do?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Demyx blinked. “This is probably really stupid but I can’t think of anything else--” He cut himself off and kissed Ienzo square on the mouth, blood and all.

The next thing Ienzo was aware of was the pain. He couldn’t move. His insides felt like they were burning--they probably were.

Demyx was yelling. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Wake up. You have to--” Hands at his shoulder, his wrist, checking for a pulse. Pressure against his pockets. “I need help. Even, I need-- I think Ienzo’s dying and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Was he dying? He was feeling more numbness than pain now.

Even’s voice. “What happened?”

“He found me. In my memory. I don’t know how, but he--he said he wasn’t supposed to have that power.” Ienzo heard a sob.

Even swore. “No. He isn’t. There’s a reason humans don’t control the elements willy-nilly. What are the symptoms?” He sounded slightly out of breath.

“He’s having trouble breathing. His pulse is really fucked up. His nose is bleeding and it seems like he’s in a lot of pain--” Another sob cut through Demyx. “I’m sorry, Even.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this.”

“Why is this happening?”

“Power like that comes from the will. It can only exist without the presence of a fully realized heart--otherwise, it’s too much power. Hence why Nobodies can use it as a defense mechanism. At that point, entropy starts wreaking havoc on the body. Your cells literally start to break down and melt. The will to live starts to wear down.”

“Ienzo…”

“I’ve messaged Aerith. I don’t think my skills are enough. We must keep him alive until then.”

Alive.

Ienzo could not feel anything, not even fear. He tried to keep drawing breaths, to stay alive , but his lungs were not responsive. He was starting to get dizzy, and drowsy. There was more pressure against his chest, repetitive and insistent. Demyx’s voice, again, heartbroken: “Why would you do this? Why didn’t you let me drown?”

He tried to fight the pull of sleep, but with his will cleaved, he had no choice but to give into it.

#beyond this existence: counterpoint #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #demyx/ienzo #beyond this existence

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empressofhorror · 5 years

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Heya! I'd love to have a reading on my personality please? I'd like to know more about myself. If may, I also would like to know my career path to become an entrepreneur, I'm planning to start a company in the near future. Sorry to bother you with many questions, but I'd like to know why problems in my life never end? I'm frustrated and stressed. I'm at the lowest point in my life rn. Thank you so much. M/Leo 🕉🧞‍♀️💰💡🌏🏘🏗🏙📱🚛💕👩🏻‍💼

The Deck: Ostara Tarot

What is M’s personality like, and why are they finding life hard right now?

The Cards That Appeared:

The Devil

The Hanged Man

The Empress Reversed

VIII of Wands

III of Coins Reversed

King of Wands

VIII of Swords Reversed

VII of Wands

I of Cups

Hello, love. So what I’m getting from your guides right now is that you’re currently being heavily affected by this situation in your life in which you feel there is no escape. Like a hamster on a hamster wheel you run and yet you truly end up nowhere except where you began. However, what the hamster fails to realize is that if they stop running, the wheel will slow down enough to where they can leap off of it to freedom. But first, they must realize that they’re even on a wheel–on a cycle, so to say–of their own making, in the first place. In this case, the hamster would be you.

They want you to stop trying to control everything so much, because that grasping for control feeling that you’re holding onto is making the things that you truly want seep through your fingers like sand. What you need to realize is that sand cannot be grasped in order to gain the most of it, but held, which in itself is a receptive action. And receptive is what they want you to be, to the Divine, and to them and their actions in your life.

The reason why you currently feel as if your life has had that enchanting spark, that happiness, sapped out of it is because you are not in touch with yourself. You need to sit with yourself and really lean into what the things that make you happy are, and then do them once again. Listen to what makes your heart happy, and then do those things. Nevermind what your overactive mind says about it all, because all the overactive mind will help you accomplish is staying on that hamster wheel when you want off of it to explore and do the things that would actually bring joy back into your life. They want you to lean into those intuitive impulses of yours, and trust yourself in what you receive.

You will find that when you do you will discover your life changing for the better, very, very rapidly. You’ll have regained your enthusiasm to do things again, because the things that you’re doing aren’t things that you want to do, or things that you wish you could be doing, but what you are, in the present moment.

So, moving on from all of that, your guides are also telling me that for some reason, you have a deep misunderstanding of yourself and who you are. They want you to understand that whatever concept that you have inside of your head about yourself in terms of not being someone who can succeed, or of not being enough, to cease those thoughts, because they are fundamentally false, and you do yourself a disservice by entertaining them, because you are only continuing to do so, and thusly keep yourself in this negative bubble that you’ve built around yourself.

They want you to know that you are a natural-born leader, and you hold a lot of honor within yourself, and with how you act within the world. You have a very sound moral compass, because of this. That you are the type of person that when it comes down to it, is less specific on their aspirations because you do not see the trees for the forest, but the forest for the trees. You are a visionary, and you want to make change, not in one facet of your life, but in all ways, and that in and of itself is something to be proud of, because most people are content to just be with how things are, never stirring the pot and wanting more out of the possibilities of things, but you are the direct opposite of that. And to own and embody that takes courage. You are the type of person that leads by encouraging hand and example via simply being you, and you have so, so much passion and drive within yourself for your long-term goals and dreams. Hold onto that.

Be encouraged! This was the first step in realizing that you are not content with keeping your life the way that it has been going, and that you want things to change for the better for yourself. They want you to know that they’ve realized things have been hard, but right now is the turning point away from that cycle, and the first foray for you in terms of reclaiming your power. You are no longer going to keep yourself chained to the title of that of a victim, but as someone who is not only accountable for their own prosperity, but happiness. And that we can be the masters of our reality if we allow ourselves to be.

They recognize that this will not be an easy transition to maintain, as old habits hold strong, but know that with perseverance, that over time, what once felt hard to do, keeping yourself afloat in the sea of all of this, will seem to have become second nature. Trust yourself and your capabilities in doing this, and lean into the love that surrounds you. Be it from friends, or family, and even them. Know that you are not alone in this, you never have been. When things feel hard, fall back into the supportive arms of those that love you, and know that in time, be it friends and family or your guides, they will no longer have to support you to stand on your own two feet, but that you will able to do it all on your own. What a lovely thought, isn’t it?

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

What advise can you give M on their entrepreneurship pursuits?

The Cards That Appeared:

The Sun Reversed

IX of Wands

The Star

Temperance

Judgment

The advise that they are having me give here can be summarized in the phrase: follow what brings you joy. It is the fact that you have been so disconnected from yourself in that aspect which as brought setbacks to the surface, because when you are in that positive energy not only do you attract these prosperous opportunities to you, but you also end up being much more in tune to your intuition, and thus, end up making decisions that will benefit you in the long run.

Have hope! Your life is changing for the better right now, and thus it is now a time for you to leave behind any pain that had attached itself to you from the past as you move onto this new phase of your life. Invest in yourself, in your plans, in your happiness. Your dreams are valid and worth going after.

They advise you to do some much-needed self-reflection when it comes to this, your life, and your dreams, and what you hope to accomplish with this. Plan carefully, and regain balance within yourself.

Change is imminent in your life right now, and if you do not take actions to enact this change yourself, then life will certainly do it for you. Yes, you will experience growing pains, and you will feel rattled, but that does not mean that the aftermath of it will be negative. Think of it more like divine intervention, for once the veils of illusion have been lifted, the path of life becomes so much clearer than it ever was before, to the point that when you can finally see you almost wonder why you had wanted so desperately to keep the veils on in the first place.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

If you liked your reading you can tip here 🖤

#free tarot readings #tarot readings #readings

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Jessica Jones - ‘A.K.A. I Have No Spleen’ Review

"My name on your case file does not make me a victim."

Jessica Jones is forced to confront her own vulnerability.

You can imagine how well that goes.

There's something interesting going on this season with Jessica Jones and the way they're layering the plot across episodes, and I'm really grooving on it.

'The Perfect Burger' and 'You're Welcome' pulled the time honored conceit of telling more or less the same story from two different perspectives for the sake of making some interesting character contrasts and burying a couple of reveals. That's usually a good trick, structurally speaking, since not only does it allow you to do some character exploration, it also has the bonus effect of making your season feel more tightly focused. 'I Have No Spleen' pulls another variation on this trick by essentially having Jessica spend the entire episode pursuing a false assumption that is ultimately revealed to be a mare's nest before it circles back to the exact same ending point that the previous two episodes shared and giving us some new and unexpected information.

So, that's essentially an entire episode's run time devoted to a side quest that turns out to be irrelevant and mostly serves to mark time until Jessica can be in the right place under the right circumstances to finally pick up the real scent. I say that pretty baldly, which makes it sound like a criticism, but it absolutely is not. It allows a lot of space for character work without feeling like the plot is treading water, and like the technique used in the first two episodes results in the storyline maintaining a lean and focused feel, which is a really good look for the show. If there was a specific complaint I had about season two, it was that it often felt more sprawling and unfocused than it was intending to be. These first three episodes feel like a very specifically designed course correction to that.

There's a clever use of audience assumptions here, since we're all more or less on the same incorrect page. We and Jessica are assuming that she was the target of the attack, and that therefore the attacker must be someone who has a beef with Jessica. This naturally leads both Costa and Jessica to assume that it's one of her clients, since the quickest way to get irritated with Jessica is to have met her. Jessica takes it one step further and assumes that it must be the work of Andrew Brandt, her most recent investigatee. Brandt is of course the ever-so-charming gentleman who had his sister beaten up in order to acquire a statue, and the resident of the apartment that Trish and Jessica both ended up in. See both previous episodes for that complete story.

Of course, that turns out to be not at all what's going on, and we'll talk about that in just a moment, but let's dig into what this episode really had on its mind when it wasn't pretending to be hot on the trail of Jessica's attacker. This episode was about two women who see themselves almost entirely in terms of eliminating all trace of vulnerability from their lives, and what happens when they have the illusion of invulnerability stripped away.

Speaking of invulnerability for just a moment, I can't have been the only one who'd forgotten that Jessica wasn't technically invulnerable, right? When she was stabbed I was genuinely surprised and had a very clear moment of, 'Wait, she can't be hurt, can she?' We get so used to heroes with super strength and the power of jumping really high that we subconsciously just assume that freedom from being hurt is part of the standard package. And of course, it isn't. If it was, Luke Cage wouldn't be so special. Well, sure, his abs would still be pretty special, but that's beside the point I'm making at the moment.

One of the goals for Jessica this season is an attempt to live as a hero. She's genuinely trying to be a better person and to use her powers in a heroic way, as a result of the events of last season. But in her mind, in order to be a hero you have to be invulnerable and she has just had it proved that she is not. That's an incorrect assumption on her part, of course, but it really makes sense for her as a character that she would see things that way. This was actually a really nice way for the show to pick back up the most successful aspect of season one, the way it addressed the sexual assault survivor metaphor. In Jessica's situation, with what Jessica has been through, nothing can be as important to her as her sense of self protection. No burger is perfect enough to protect Erik Gelden if he was in any way responsible for taking that away from her.

Jessica's plan for regaining the sense of control that she needs just to get through her day to day life is to solve the mystery of her attack on her own and not let the police handle it, which is entirely on brand for her. It's touching that Costa kind of gets that and lets her do it. Her plan gets a bit of a setback when she finds out she's been on entirely the wrong track, however, and it's here where the episode shows what I was talking about earlier in regard to a 'treading water' plot not being without value. This is the story of Jessica Jones needing a win in order to regain her sense of security, and not getting it, and that's a story worth telling. Particularly as the thing that ultimately allows her to stay in the hospital and thereby metaphorically accept temporary vulnerability, is the text of help from Jeri Hogarth.

Jeri is Jessica's mirror at this point. She's starting to be unable to ignore the impending acceleration of her ALS symptoms and is desperate to find ways to regain the sense that she's in control of her own life. Unfortunately, for Jeri that seems to involve deliberately seducing her ex-lover in an attempt to break up that ex-lover's current happy marriage, which is... I mean, where do you even begin to unpack that? The look of disappointment on Jeri's face when she finds out that Kith and Peter have an open marriage, and therefore her successful seduction of Kith was entirely meaningless, is heartbreaking and complicated. And look at that, it occurs at exactly the same point in the plot as Jessica's lowest moment in the hospital.

What makes this all fascinating is the scene which is really the emotional core of the entire episode. Jeri comes to Jessica's office, and among other things they discuss one another's current weaknesses. What's fascinating is the fact that they're both constantly attempting to turn the conversation away from their own problem and instead express sympathy and support for the other's. Neither of them can bear to be the object of concern for even a moment, despite the fact that they both quite clearly do care about one another's troubles and the expressions of sympathy they're making are 100% genuine. They're just also a way to avoid receiving sympathy themselves. That's just a great scene.

As for the side characters, They carry on much the same. Malcolm continues his journey to the heart of 'pliable ethics.' Trish continues to embrace the life of a superhero with all the verve of a college freshman who just discovered environmentalism, and is just as intolerable while doing it. Although it was hard not to sympathize with her when her co-host told her she was born to sell crappy clothes on shopping TV. Trish and Jessica's relationship has always been my favorite thing about this show, and I have such grave concerns about where this final season is going to leave them.

And while I'm sharing concerns and hopes, could Malcolm's new girlfriend Zaya maybe not turn out to be evil? Please? Because I'm getting a serious 'I'm going to turn out to be evil' vibe from her. Similarly, I'm really hoping that Erik the burger guy doesn't turn out to be evil, although I find him kind of attractive and everything in my personal dating history guarantees that that means he's evil.

Of course, the real winner of this episode is clearly Doctor 'I Love to Make Spleen Puns.' Totally loved that guy.

Bits and Pieces:

-- I really enjoyed the detail that the hospital totally understands about superhumans and factors that into patient care. That was just a really nice bit of world building.

-- Does Jessica's superpower set involve having a better than average immune response? Because what the show said was accurate; the duties of the spleen are also taken on by the liver and, to a lesser extent, the lymph nodes, but maybe Jessica doesn't want to put too much reliance on her liver handling the job. I'm just saying.

-- Did Jeri have any reason other than trying to break up Kith's marriage to have Malcolm spy on Peter? I think I might have missed something significant regarding that.

-- Minor quibble, but the hospital would have discussed her spleen situation with her before getting Jessica a medic alert bracelet. For one thing, insurance tends to not cover them, and for another they take a bit to get made. There's no way that she would have found out she'd lost her spleen that way. I get that it's 'show don't tell' narrative shorthand, but I felt obligated to put the real information out there.

-- While we're talking sound medical advice from your considerate television review website, blood in your urine (for males) is absolutely typical after blunt force trauma to the torso, and typically will be released before the flow of urine, not after. It's most often nothing to be concerned about, but check with your doctor if it persists or worsens. DouxReviews is not a medical practitioner, and should not be viewed as a source of diagnostic feedback.

-- I was just thinking that Jessica shouldn't be able to walk around as casually as she was doing when she collapsed and passed out. Thank you, show.

-- I suppose that, technically, what happened to Wendy in season one might be described as a tragic accident. But that feels like underselling it.

-- Reading between the lines, Jeri cheated on Kith with Wendy and then left Kith for her.

-- My favorite moment of kindness that I've seen on television for ages: Malcolm, knowing that Jessica would resent any help he gave her as pity, prepared a bill for his time in advance so that she had an out to protect her dignity. That actually made me go 'Awwww' out loud.

-- I adore Gillian, Jessica's new assistant, and have a million questions about her backstory.

Quotes:

Doctor: "That's what I'm trying to ex-spleen to you." It's hard not to love the doctor.

Jessica: "Where would a liter of bourbon a day fall on the reckless scale?"

Jeri: "The Cale Caesar is quite filling." Kith: "Talk about faint praise."

Kith: "See? All of the wine."

Jessica: "A hero is strong. A hero is invulnerable. A hero has a goddamn spleen."

Jessica: "You've been a hero for five minutes. I've been one half my life." Trish: "You've been super, Jess. There's a difference."

Gillian: "It's 12:29. I'm taking lunch. And there's a client waiting in the office. Should I tell them you've recently been the victim of a violent crime and are currently indisposed?"

A really focused and well structured entry into a season that I feel is only just getting started. I mean that in the best possible way. I think the word I'm looking for here is 'disciplined.'

Eight out of ten cases of unabashed verve.

---

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Jessica Jones #Trish Walker #Jeri Hogarth #Malcolm Ducasse #Marvel #MCU #Jessica Jones Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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glitchedspectra · 5 years

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(tl;dr available at the bottom)

A collection of thoughts I would add a readmore to if I could but on my mobile:

- My birthday was good, and that is it. For all intents and purposes, it was good, in the purest sense of how a birthday can be good; it puts so many other birthdays to shame, it was wonderful. It was a good day, in which I had a good time with great people, and the fact that it was my birthday was acknowledged; but there is something missing. It was not spent in silence, which I should be and am grateful for, but. Either way. I think I put a little too much meaning into this one, and it didn’t matter where I wanted it to matter.

- it’s hard when you put meaning into a whole year. It’s the hope that it’ll get better; I’ve fallen for that one before.

- the disgust in my guts creates a pit so deep anyone who fell into it would die of old age before hitting the ground.

- i cannot wait for this whole bullshit to be over. Sometimes it feels like it’ll never be over, and the effort doesn’t feel worth it. I’ve lived through times in which the bullshit was happening, and it isn’t worth it.

- if I had Adam Sandler’s control from Click I’d just skip to when the bullshit is over and learn a lesson at the end or whatever. Maybe I should just skip to when I learn my lesson.

- there are toxic mindsets from the past I used to hold on to because they gave me a sense of order and purpose. In trying to get rid of the mindsets, I feel like I’ve gotten rid of the order. There is only uncertainty now.

- similarly, there are certain bad things that I do which I am told come from the desire of regaining a sense of order, putting limits in myself because the world itself has no limits. I admire those lines with a sense of forbidden purpose, control, a picture of sanity. Works of art.

- I once told someone I did that, out of a sense of obligation; “you must tell people or it’s bad”. Their response was so nonchalant I realized this seems like a non-issue to everyone but me. I am *told* it’s an issue; I prefer to live in a world in which it is an issue - because if it isn’t then this is as good as life gets, and it’s not good enough.

- the thought of my future makes me want to drink bleach. I was told this is a bad thing, and that if you’re considering drinking bleach you must stop and step away from what is causing the feeling in the first place; but I am not only unable to do that, I would never be forgiven for that.

- last year my mother asked me if I wanted to take a break, and when I said I’d never be forgiven if I did, she broke into tears. I think she knows me too well and knows I have no sense of when to stop; I think my friends would agree I’d never be forgiven. I think they feel like they wouldn’t be forgiven either. I wish I could tell them I’d forgive them, but I wouldn’t believe me if they told me the same.

- sometimes I feel like it’d be easier to just go full apeshit and not look back. Dive head first into insanity and never climb out. It would be so easy. I am so tired.

- i know I will stop writing as soon as I leave. The second I step out of this house I will lose all power, all will, all spoons to write. Which SUCKS. Writing is the one thing that can tide you over. Writing is the one way in which I am always relevant. People write to be read, and if I can’t write, I will never be read. I can’t even write right now, even as I am still here; but I feed the illusion that I can. There were days in which my brain was so naturally wired into fiction, and it was so easy; now I have to wire it manually, so I can think of something better than the reality that stares me in the face. And it’s the only thing that can tide you over, and I will believe in that, and when in the near future it no longer tides you I will ignore all proof and continue to pretend that it does.

- I got a handstitched towel as a birthday present. I love it. I never think I’ll get presents. I remember one birthday when I was gifted a story and I cried in the middle of the airport. I think that’s what I wanted to get, this year more than any other. It’s not the story, it’s what it represents. I wanted to matter so much, in a level that only I know, that only I could matter. But it was bad timing. My birthday was utterly fantastic, but it wasn’t perfect.

- i think Iam poison, I will always be poison, I am an error; I should be deleted, redacted, counteracted, purged.

- i am so far from whatever good my birthday was; it is sad to learn you have to be content with “as good as it gets” when you yearn for “as good as it can be”, mostly because everything else is just “not even close to good”.

- I sometimes wonder if I deserve better at all.

TL;DR: my birthday was fine, the rest of my life is a mess.

#glitchin bitchin #god this turned out longer than expected #I feel a lil better now that I’ve gotten these words down #I don’t expect yall to acknowledge this #or deal with me #I wanna go home I think #not the real home just #the home that is where the heart is #i’m standing right in front of it actually #I’m knocking #no one’s home.

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thefantasticalcoyote · 6 years

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For @promptis-fanweek Day 3, with the prompt “the moment when one or both realize they are in love with their best friend.” Except I’m showing my hand as a lover of sadness and pain instead of making something cute. Oops.

Title: Our Blood Will Dry in the Sun Rating: T Warnings: Blood/Violence, Temporary Character Death Summary: A risky night-time hunt goes terribly wrong and forces Noctis into some desperate, adrenaline-fueled reflection.

It comes like a punch to the chest.

Or maybe a stab to the heart, but that’s stupid, because despite the aim of the blade in his direction it’s not him who’s currently being run through right before Noctis’ very eyes. He imagines the tearing pain and fear surging through his body might feel similar but still, it’s Prompto who screams because it’s his flesh and skin that’s being ripped apart by the sword of a Ronin thrusting through his body in one clean blow that forces the hilt all the way up to his chest.

The daemon’s strong arms wrench the sword in the air, carrying Prompto’s form briefly off of his feet before flinging him off into the inky blue of the surrounding night. Noctis’ hears the impact, and it might just be the fault of the pained, angry yell that deafens in his own ears but he doesn’t hear Prompto scream or cry out when he falls.

Noctis briefly cuts his eyesight down the grassy hill in the direction of the impact, catching flashes of pale skin and blond hair in the dull moonlight. Limbs seem heavy and weightless at the same time as Prompto’s body rolls with bloody momentum before coming to a stop half rested on his shoulder with his head tilted back up at the night sky.

The sight has Noctis’ heart beating in fury.

The ronin barely has a chance to turn, blood from its blade slapping against the grass in globs still unnaturally bright even in the dark before it falls, bisected by a blade that vanishes into blue light the moment it exits the other side of the daemon’s body. Only when the last of the creatures finally lays dead upon the ground does Noctis’ anger dissolve into panic.

They’d been separated halfway through the battle from Ignis and Gladio, but Noctis’ had thought they could handle this on their own. Neither one of them were weaklings—it should have been fine, but now Prompto’s laying on the ground and from this far away Noctis can’t even tell if he’s still breathing.

He launches his blade and nearly loses his balance when he warps to Prompto’s side, hand fumbling with the sword’s grip as he pitches forward onto the loose, dark earth besides his friend.

“H-Hey, come on Blondie, get up—“ He lightly smacks the side of his friend’s head, all lingering adrenaline turning to cold fear in his stomach when Prompto doesn’t respond. For a last hopeful moment it feels like a joke, an illusion, but reality stabs its way home and refuses to move its poisoned tip from his heart as a press of fingers to his friend’s neck confirm the absolutely unthinkable, worst case scenario.

Gods, no. Please.

They all knew the risk inherent in midnight hunts, but had all agreed the extra gil was well worth the risk. The easy way they’d weighed the danger against the alluring rewards now sunk in his stomach because nothing, nothing could possibly be worth this.

Noctis knew, at least he thought he’d knew this whole trip wasn’t some kind of walk in the park—more like a trek through often rugged, often violent wilderness—but he’d felt he’d understood well enough the danger inherent in the world, the danger heightened by his status and circumstance. Loss had been stamped into his skin so many times it was a wonder he didn’t have some serious bruises.

He should have learned by now how quickly important things could be taken—in an instant, with little forewarning nor time to say goodbye nor properly mourn—but to have it play out right before his eyes, a life he cared about snuffed out with little more than a sound or a chance to properly try to save it sends a chill down his spine like the bone is alive yet shuddering in the kind of final throes Prompto’d never had a moment to feel before he’d been struck down—

—Dead.

The word hammers into Noctis’ skull over and over again even as he tries to will himself past it, transport to some kind of reality where he can think clearly and figure out how to fix this, because it can’t end here—not when there hadn’t even been a moment for goodbye.

Instead his hands come to helplessly cradle his friend’s face, the weight heavy in his palms, his skin pale and lifeless—a taunting specter of a scene that’d played out in his head for awhile, now, whenever he’d been lying besides Prompto watching him sleep safely in wherever they’d stopped for the night, and imaging everything he wanted to say and do, everything that’d been so sidetracked and yet so strengthened by this trip.

Blood trickles to a stop at the tip of Prompto’s chin, dead eyes brightened only by the intermittent moonlight as they stare straight through Noctis’ face. His fingers tremble and nearly let Prompto’s head fall back against the grass.

Gods, this wasn’t what he’d wanted for him. This wasn’t what he wanted for any of them, but Prompto most of all—he should be back home, there should still be a home and he should be safe, not out here risking life and limb for some light-hearted sense of loyalty Noctis had taken for granted ’til the consequences had slammed into him within the inky midnight pall of this godsforsaken hunt.

And yet Prompto had stuck by him heedless of the kind of danger that’d struck him down and bled him out against some hill deep in the infernal dark, and even as his eyes burn with tears and his heart twists in sorrow he knows without doubt Prompto will do it again, by recklessness or accident or sacrifice because—crazy as it is—he cares with all his life has to give.

Briefly, Noctis closes his eyes and leans down to rest his forehead against Prompto’s, the clamminess making his brow twitch. He realizes, in the last quiet moment he allows himself, that given such the terrible, changeable world, there’s no longer much of a reason to hold anything back himself.

The agony of unspoken words long memorized lingers upon his lips, chafed with his own harsh breathing, and as he swallows down resolve and finally regains control of his racing thoughts, he knows he can’t leave them alone in a place Prompto will never hear them any longer—not after this.

He opens his eyes and raises his head and jabs his hand out into the dark still clinging around them, drawing from the Armiger in a spark of blue that flashes for a brief moment before his hands close around a fragile feather lit by flame, the only source of steady light apart from the shrouded, sorrowful moon.

It’s his only hope.

He tastes blood and dirt as he pressed the knuckles of Prompto’s hand against his lips, eyes unnatural, bright and focused as his hands force his friend’s fist closed around the down, clasping like a prayer or a wordless confession as flames explode from within.

The both of them take a sudden breath together.

#coyotext #promptis-fanweek #promptis #ffxv #major character death #blood #all that stuff #i still am kind of lost and just picking random elements and monsters so Uh #sorry if its not accurate I needed a creature with a sword all right #sorry I'll probably bring nothing more to the fandom than pain and injury fics #fanfic

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themyskira · 6 years

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Wonder Woman #45

Previously in hey, remember when Wonder Woman used to be the protagonist of this comic? Does anyone remember that?

Darkseid wants a powerful army, so he’s decided to enslave the Amazons. He built a Stargate capable of reaching Themyscira, and sent Grail through to conquer it single-handedly. The Amazons, being the incredible army that they are, are completely overwhelmed by this invasion of one, and Grail begins zapping them and turning them into parademons, because apparently that’s something she can do now?? And she never thought to use to turn Diana and Jason into her loyal minions, because reasons???

Diana can’t follow Grail because Robinson — either through not paying attention or not giving a shit — has rewritten canon, and now instead of Themyscira being near-impossible to find by design because it houses Ares’ prison, it’s governed by some weird arbitrary rules around not permitting anybody to return after they leave, except if their feet never touched the ground. This is purely an excuse to send Jason through in Diana’s stead.

So instead, Diana has mostly been punching Darkseid ineffectually while raging about how she hates him and wants to hurt him because he killed her daddy. By the end of this issue, she will have done precisely one thing to impact the plot in this entire arc, and it’s love her daddy so much that his ghost comes and beats up Darkseid for her.

The issue opens with parademonised Amazons pouring out of the portal from Themyscira, and Diana, Steve, Jason and the ARGUS goon squad struggling to fight them off.

Since the New 52 relaunch, the Amazons have — with the exception of Rucka’s year on the book — alternately been turned into beasts, killed people en masse, or been killed en masse. So of course Robinson managed to find a way to incorporate all three. This isn’t something unique to the New 52 — between 1986 and 2011, I don’t think there was a single extended run on Wondy that didn’t involve a mass slaughter of Amazons — but it doesn’t make it any less awful this time.

Robinson’s exposition goes into double-time, as the characters frantically remind each other/us what happened last issue, while simultaneously Steve’s narration boxes remind us what’s happened so far in this arc.

In amongst this, there’s a hilarious moment where an ARGUS soldier runs over to Steve with Diana’s sword, like it’s just found the Holy Grail.

“Colonel Trevor, I found it! Wonder Woman’s swor—!”

Wonder Woman’s sword not some magical super-weapon that’s going to turn the tide of the battle. It’s just a sword, same as the ones the Paramazondemons are using.

You know what is a magical super-item that could turn the tide of the battle? The goddamn Lasso of Truth. You know, unbreakable divine relic? Capable of cutting through illusion and mind control, even self-deception? You don’t think it would be worth trying that on your mind-controlled sisters before you start stabbing them?

But suddenly this perfectly ordinary sword is the most important thing in the world! When the ARGUS goon is impaled from behind and drops the sword, Jason swoops in to pick it up.

“Got it! Sword’s on its way, sister!”

After a brief time out for some more exposition, Jason tosses Diana the sword and flies through the portal (because his feet never touched the ground the first time he was there blah blah).

Jason’s powers still look idiotic, and Temofonte’s lettering choices are still irritating.

Steve [narration]: I have to admit… I’m starting to like Diana’s brother.

Good lord, why? Since when?!

A couple of hours ago, Steve disliked Jason on account of Jason being a reckless, glory-hounding, dangerously inexperienced, untrustworthy wanker. He spent a lot of time listing all the reasons he didn’t trust him! And all of those things still hold true. Maybe Jason’s taking this fight a little more seriously than previous ones, but he’s still substantially the same person that he was two hours earlier. Realistically, Steve should be less than thrilled that his people’s lives and the lives of the Amazons are in the hands of an untrained, undisciplined, ego-driven turncoat whose recent exploits include henching for Darkseid, trying to kill Diana and acquiring super-powered armour under suspiciously vague circumstances.

Now with that all-important sword in hand, Diana continues to be… pretty ineffectual against Darkseid.

Diana calls Darkseid insane. This is something she’s been doing at least once every issue, and each time she does, it grates on me. Part of it’s the excessively casual use of pejoratives — because even by the standards of the superhero genre, which historically hasn’t been great at handling mental illness and is quick to default to labels like ‘crazy’ and ‘mad’ and ‘insane’, Robinson’s Diana throws these words around a lot, and it’s deeply out of character.

But more than that, it makes no sense, because of all the characters in this godforsaken comic, Darkseid’s behaviour may be the least erratic. His agenda has been consistent from day one: he wants to regain his power so that he can retake Apokolips, and all of his actions have been effectively targeted to take him towards that goal. He’s cruel, ruthless, callous, vicious, dictatorial and arguably evil, but you couldn’t really call him “insane”.

It gets worse, because the reason Diana thinks Darkseid is mentally unstable is that — even having had it spelled out to her three issues ago by Grail under the compulsion of the Lasso — she still can’t figure out what his plan is. “I know you’re insane, Darkseid,” she says, “but this — transforming my sisters into parademons — this madness has no rhyme at all.”

At this stage, Diana knows

Darkseid wants an army — one that is both extremely powerful and unquestioningly loyal (per Grail),

With this objective in mind, Darkseid has gone to great lengths to open a portal to Themyscira, and

Now Grail has gone to Themyscira, where she is turning Amazons into extremely powerful and unquestioningly loyal parademons

…and she still can’t put the fucking pieces together. That’s how checked out of the plot Diana is: we’re ten pages from the end of the arc, and the villain is forced to explain to her what she should have twigged to sixty pages ago.

Jason enters Themyscira and sees Hippolyta fighting Grail. He rushes to her aid, but in a rare non-terrible writing decision from Robinson, his presence is entirely unnecessary: Hippolyta proves perfectly capable of taking down Grail without any help.

Cue the nauseating reunion.

Jason: Mother! It’s me. I… I’m your son! Hippolyta: Jason? Oh, my beautiful boy. It is you. To finally see your face—

Diana, meanwhile, continues to be completely ineffectual. Battered by Darkseid, she whimpers to Steve that she’s starting to think that she can’t win. Steve tells her that no matter what, he loves her, and Diana sits bolt upright.

“That’s it, Steve! LOVE! Hatred won’t win this — violence — but love just might!”

Look, I’m glad that Robinson has finally figured out that Diana’s greatest strength as a hero is the depth of her love and compassion, rather than a propensity for excessive violence — because, hey, better late than never — but this is straight out of left field.

And the annoying thing is, under other circumstances, this plot point — Diana besting Darkseid not through force, but through love — could be done well. Has been done, in fact, fifteen-odd years ago by Phil Jimenez.

Good comics interlude: During the ‘Our Worlds at War’ crossover, Diana has to team up with Darkseid to save the universe. With Raven’s help, she channels her faith and the faith of all her sisters into Darkseid in order to restore his power so that he can blah blah convoluted plot stuff. At the story’s end, Darkseid gloats that he is back at the height of his power, while Diana has lost almost everything — her mother has been killed, along with hundreds of other Amazons. Themyscira is no more. Diana even lost a piece of her very soul to Darkseid through the act of empowering him.

Diana smiles slowly.

“Surely you must be joking, Darkseid? Or don’t you know?

When Raven channelled our energies through you, she infected your dark spirit. She didn’t just give you my power, she used her empathic powers to fuse that part of my soul into your own. A part that I give freely, each and every day… and which you took gladly, without understanding the consequences.

There’s a piece of me inside you now, Darkseid. A piece that believes more than anything in joy and hope and peace. So ponder on that, New God — each and every time your feelings and actions are tainted by some undeniable longing for kindness… or the next time the Fates decide you should commit an unidentifiable act of compassion towards your minions and people in the name of some abstraction called ‘love’. Ponder that.”

SHE INFECTED HIM WITH HER SOUL SHE IS SUCH A FUCKING BOSS.

A year and a half later, Jimenez delivers an insight into just what this means for Darkseid. And while he’s much the same villain as before, there’s a stubborn splinter of pure compassion embedded deep within his soul. It torments and infuriates him. Every so often, it drives him to feel things, do things entirely alien to him — like show mercy to a slave.

Darkseid: Foul woman! What have you done to me? Diana: What’s wrong, Darkseid? Had moment or two of inexplicable compassion? I warned you. The portion of my soul you stole will corrupt you from the inside out. You’ll be kissing babies and freeing slaves before you know it. Darkseid: What do you want, Amazon? Diana: Just to remind you of your invitation, New God. It seems some of the Amazons are actually willing to forgive you for your hateful transgressions against them and would like to negotiate a more peaceful relationship with the Lord of Apokolips. You should come. Who knows? You might even learn a thing or two. Although it seems to me you’re learning plenty right now… Darkseid: [raging] AAAAAHHHHHHHH!

That’s how Diana owned Darkseid with the power of love last time.

And this is how Robinson’s Diana… enables Zeus’s ghost to own Darkseid on her behalf through the power of her love for her daddy:

Her boyfriend says ‘I love you’, and this gives her an idea. She walks up to Darkseid and informs him that she’s not going to fight, she’s just going to let him pummel her while she aggressively loves Zeus at him. This causes the ghosts of all the gods Darkseid devoured to to pour out of him. Zeus manages to stick around long enough to tell Diana that he’s proud of her, then fades away while Diana’s all ‘noooo daddeeeee come baaaack’. Then Darkseid appears to spontaneously combust, the end.

Steve points out that whatever happened to Darkseid has affected the portal as well — it’s now closing, with Jason and Grail still on the other side.

On Themyscira, the Amazons have just about contained their parademonised sisters, when they see that the portal is closing. Cue another nauseating scene of Hippolyta waxing emotional over how much she loves Jason and he’s the best son ever and, here, have this super-special magical god-weapon, why don’t you?

“Take this spear. Designed by Artemis, crafted by Hephaistos — enchanted and unbreakable.”

boo.

Steve and Diana wait anxiously by the Totally-Not-A-Stargate.

Steve: So what do you want me to do, Angel? I mean, you can’t go through, obviously… but I could.

What are you talking about, no you bloody couldn’t!

Robinson has been quite clear about the portal rules. They’re dumb rules, and they fly in the face of established canon, but they’re clear.

If you have ever been to Themyscira before, you cannot enter the portal.

You only register as having been to Themyscira if your feet touched the ground.

Steve has been to Themyscira. His feet touched the ground. You cannot go changing up the rules with only four pages to go.

But of course Jason gets back just in time, and Diana is unrealistically excited to see him, and it’s all, ‘I met my mummy and she loves me!’ ‘I met my daddy and he loves me!’ ‘Oh PS, we’ve got a bunch of parademon-Amazons in custody now. I guess maybe somebody should work on turning them back to normal?’

Grail wakes up chained in Ares’ prison. At a cursory glance, this seems like a reasonable solution: Grail is a prisoner, and no prison is more secure than the one Themyscira guards over.

But then, unlike Robinson, I thought about it for more than a second and what the hell this is a terrible idea. The whole point of Themyscira is to prevent anybody who might conspire to release Ares on the world from reaching his prison, and they’ve just locked a supervillain in with him and his evil sons. Unleashing War on the world is exactly the kind of thing Grail would do if it means securing her escape and furthering Darkseid’s plans.

It’s also a dick move on the Amazons’ part, because Grail is supposedly one of their own. She has a lot to atone for, and there would undoubtedly be Amazons who’d want to see her pay for her crimes, but I doubt it would escape the council’s notice that Grail has essentially been used and manipulated by trusted parental figures for her entire life. Her mother bore her, raised her and trained her to be a weapon whose only purpose was to destroy Darkseid. Her father turned her into his loyal minion. She has never been her own person, never had any family that didn’t see her as a means to an end. Surely the Amazons would ultimately see it as their responsibility not just to punish and contain her, but to rehabilitate her. That can’t happen if she’s locked away in a cave with only Ares for company.

Also, you know, she’s probably the best chance they have of curing their parademonised sisters, so… maybe do something about that as well?

Meanwhile, somewhere on Earth, Darkseid is wandering around, naked, human-ish, and amnesiac; the end.

#comics talk #the james robinson shitshow

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waywardroserp · 4 years

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WAYWARD ROSE welcomes DINA MILLER to their life as a CHATTEL. They prefer (SHE/HER) pronouns, is 28, BISEXUAL, and has been with us for 1 YEAR AND SIX MONTHS and belongs with the FAERIES. They share an uncanny resemblance to PHOEBE TONKIN. They work as A STRIPPER AT MAGNUM X and are described as TACITURN, SARCASTIC, and STUBBORN.

FULL NAME: Dina Miller NICK NAME(S): Just Dina AGE: Twenty-eight years old PRONOUNS: She/her S. ORIENTATION: Bisexual. R. ORIENTATION: Biromantic

POSITIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, sarcastic, honest, intelligent, kind NEGATIVE TRAITS: taciturn, calculated, blunt, angry, obedient OCCUPATION: Stripper at Magnum X SPECIES: Halfling (human-faerie) ACTIVE POWERS: Teleportation, Super strength/speed/reflexes, Sedation, Illusion, healing, astral perception. She’s most used and gained control of teleportation and healing, but had successful use of her other abilities though without full control/the ability to use them at will. SKILLS: dancing, seduction, hand-to-hand combat, some martial art, intermediate skill with a sword RANK: Chattel ROLE: Submissive, sometimes switch with the right person TURN-ONS: Anal sex, anal play, d/s, daddy/mommy kink, pet play, breath play, bondage, spanking, rough sex, sensory deprivation, hair pulling, whipping, light fire play, marking/biting, body worship, orgasm control/orgasm denial   TURN-OFFS: Scat/urine, filth, continued humiliation, food play

BIOGRAPHY When born, Dina was supposed to be the future hope of one of the smaller the human resistance groups who realized the supernatural were a threat to their very existence. Because witches were seen as creators and protectors of balance and nature, they were not the target, and when one decided to align with the humans for an alliance, they asked her to locate a fairy knight for them, and then sent in one of their own women mate with the creature. Dina was the outcome. Her mother succeeded in seducing her fae father, an unseelie, though when she was born, he wanted to be involved in her life as well. The human resistance made an agreement with him, allowing him access to his daughter, as long as he didn’t interfere with their plans for her. Which were mainly to use her as a weapon once she became old enough. But when Dina was five years old, and had just begun a bit more advanced training such as hand to hand combat and training with a small sword, the resistance was beaten, and its humans either killed or sent into hiding by the supernaturals.

Unwilling to hand her daughter over to a faerie, Dina’s mother ran with her, intending to hide her within the human population. When her father learned that his daughter had been taken, he hunted them down, though not before Dina’s mother managed to hide her with a friend. However, the price was her life, and Dina never saw her mother again. The friend she was left with handed her over to a social worker, thus she became a ward of the state and placed in the foster system. Up until the year she turned sixteen, Dina was passed around in different foster families, often abusive homes where they used the kids to get extra money. After nearly ten years in the system, the young girl decided that she’d had enough, and that she would rather try her luck on the streets. While she did survive, she didn’t thrive. She had to sell her body for food and shelter, and about six months in she sunk to a real low point, beginning to abuse drugs. However the substances seemed to affect her differently than her friends, their effects milder, though hallucinations prompted weird thing to happen. She’d shoot large beams of light from her hands when scared, and she somehow managed to get several males to fall in love with her. And while Dina had always thought of herself as a little off, seeing as she’d been hearing other people’s thoughts on and off since before she could remember and had purple eyes as well as some kind of permanent markings around her left arm, these things left her feeling even more confused.

What was going on? She’d accepted that she wasn’t like anyone else, but always believed she just had some birth defects.. One afternoon, a wealthy looking, rather nice lady approached Dina in a convenient store, offering her shelter and food. The woman name was Deborah Miller, and she was a doctor and scientist with her own company. Unbeknown to Dina at first, Deborah Miller and her husband used to work for the human resistance her mother had been a part of, and she had been searching for the fae-human child along with the remainder of those humans once apart of the resistance. Many had died, but not all. After some convincing and a lot of explanations down the road, Dina decided to stay with the Millers. She decided that she didn’t need to particularly like them, because their obscene wealth and somewhat vain outlook on the world disgusted her, but she could use them until she was old enough to make a living for herself. Not surprisingly, the couple arranged for a whole new wardrobe, tutors, martial arts instructors and they helped Dina get clean and sober. After two years in their care, the street urchin with purple eyes was almost completely gone. Not to mention she finally understood what she was. Half faerie. At the age of twenty four, Dina was working as a research assistant at Dr. Millers labs, doing seemingly well for herself. She had her own apartment, her own money and was doing good. Of course everything wasn’t perfect. While she wouldn’t tell her adoptive mother Dina found the laboratory work incredibly boring and was dreaming of doing something more creative, or heck, take a year off to travel. But before she could realize any of these plans, she came across a female vampire.

At first the two were only fooling around, but then the tables were turned on Dina as the vampire decided to lock her in her home and keep her as a pet. At first, Dina fought for her life. Using everything she had. Though it quickly dawned on her that there were serious restraints to her powers when used so frequently, and if anything her new owner did not seem to be too weakened by them, only more entranced. After fighting her for a year and a half, Dina gave in. She was trained to be an obedient pet, a submissive slave, to speak only when spoken to and never able to tell her mistress no. With a little time, and good behavior, her mistress began loosening the reins a little bit, allowing Dina to roam freely within the house and gardens. One day, she saw her chance to escape, running right back to the Millers in the hopes that they could help hide her and get far away from the vampire. Instead her adoptive parents were slaughtered, as were every employee at the Miller lab when the vampire came for her pet. Anguished, heartbroken, and terrified as the mistress forced Dina to watch her adoptive mother get torn to pieces, she promised never to run again.

The years ticked by, seemingly uneventful and to the halfling the days seemed to blur together. She was never quite able to regain much trust with her mistress, though the vampire wasn’t entirely void of mercy. She gave Dina the best of everything, as long as she knew her place and played by the rules. It seemed like this was how her life was always going to be. And then her unseelie father showed up, demanding his daughter from the vampire that kept her. Of course the vampire refused, entering into many a quarrel with the faerie. Possessive as the vampire was, she thought the best alternative would be to sell Dina to Thorn Haven, assuring her that she would follow shortly and claim her. Though after a year in the cells, Dina hasn’t seen anything to her former mistress, nor her father. She’s assumed the former realized she was not worth the hassle, and the latter doesn’t know where she is. Which pains her, because she would really like to get to know her father, even though she’s not sure if she can trust him. A year in the cells, a year on her own and with a framework to explore, Dina has grown into her old self a little. She’s at times a bit sarcastic and bitter over her loss of freedom and the stark reality of slavery. Not to mention that she’s dared to become a bit bolder and more vocal. She’s stubborn, so if she doesn’t want to do something she’ll protest. Though for the most part she found it easy to adapt to L'Enfer. The elite here often pale in comparison to her old mistress, though she likes that she can play along and have some fun too. She is a natural submissive, taking a lot of pleasure in pleasing another person, easily excited by being roughly handled and she’s not averse to punishments. Most days she finds life in WR tolerable. Other days she’ll put up a real fight simply wanting to be in control of her own fate. You’ll never quite know what to get with her.

#ch: Dina Miller #fc: Phoebe Tonkin #faerie #chattel #hybrid

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portfoliosmedia · 5 years

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80 famous phrases about disappointment that could help you https://ift.tt/2BxoJ8c

A selection of famous thoughts and quotes about disappointment, and how to learn from it.

Disappointment is a very unpleasant feeling that we all feel in some moments of life when it does not provide us with what we crave or desire.

Being a feeling that we all once felt, this has been thought and analyzed by many people throughout history and with it, there have been great quotes that many of us may not know.

Phrases and reflections on disappointment

For this reason, we have thought that creating a selection of these phrases can be beneficial and could help us if we ever go through that feeling of discomfort that is disappointment.

Phrases and reflections on disappointment

Then we leave you with the 80 famous phrases about the most relevant disappointment of all time.

1. We must accept finite disappointments, but never lose infinite hope. (Martin Luther King, Jr)

Disappointments can encourage us to lose all hope, but we must never give up.

2. If we are calm and prepared, we should be able to find compensation in each disappointment. (Henry David Thoreau)

A disappointment can always be the beginning of a new illusion, we must always be positive in life.

3. The biggest disappointment in your life comes when what you thought would make you happier actually makes you sadder.

Those things that make us more excited are those that when the time comes maybe our greatest disappointments.

4. Disappointment is a term for our refusal to look on the positive side. (Richelle E. Goodrich)

We can always find a positive side to almost everything, the disappointment comes from our lack of desire to find that side.

Phrases and reflections on disappointment

5. Disappointment is a kind of bankruptcy. The bankruptcy of a soul that spends too much on hope and expectations. (Eric Hoffer)

Having unreal expectations can lead to a very likely disappointment, we must be aware of our limitations.

6. The earlier the negative is, the lower the disappointment. (Publilio Siro)

If something is impossible from an early stage, it will not have given time to generate illusions and subsequent disappointment.

7. A true desire to be or do something gives us the power “the reason” to get up every morning and start after each disappointment. (Marsha Sinetar)

Each disappointment is a new beginning, a new opportunity to improve and grow emotionally.

8. There can be no deep disappointment where there is no deep love. (Martin Luther King, Jr)

What we love most is what can disappoint us the most, we tend to create false expectations for a future that may not come.

9. Life is a long preparation for something that never happens. (WB Yeats)

Many times we create an unattainable goal that we can never reach, with the enormous disappointment that this can bring us.

10. Disappointment is for a noble soul what water is for hot metal; it strengthens it, it encourages it, it intensifies it, but it never destroys it. (Eliza Tabor Stephenson)

The disappointments we suffer strengthen us, we really owe them a lot because they forge us as individuals.

Phrases and reflections on disappointment

11. When we focus on gratitude, the stream of disappointment goes away and the stream of love goes away. (Kristin Armstrong)

Being grateful for everything we have and have lived will make us emotionally stronger.

12. Don't blame people for disappointing you, blame yourself for expecting too much from them.

Perhaps the error of a disappointment is in ourselves for having created false expectations.

13. Maturity is a sour disappointment for which there is no remedy, except laughter. (Kurt Vonnegut)

When we mature and realize the rawness of life we all get disappointed, because we realize that we had not been realistic before.

14. If you know a lonely person, no matter what they tell you, it is not because they enjoy their loneliness. It is because he has tried to mix before in the world and people have continued to disappoint him. (Jodi Picoult)

Many times we become disillusioned with society, because we see that it does not understand us and that it will be very difficult for us to develop in it.

15. A minute of sincere gratitude can wash the disappointments of a lifetime. (Silvia Hartmann)

When someone thanks us from the bottom of his being, it seems as if past disappointments disappeared.

16. Expectations can sometimes lead to disappointment, but the anger of being disappointed can sometimes lead you to what you expected.

How we use these misfortunes can decide the path we will follow tomorrow.

17. Assuming is the root of all disappointment. (Regional Reyes)

When we assume a disappointment or disappointment is when it takes shape and becomes real.

18. One of the best protection against disappointment is having a lot to do. (Alain de Botton)

When we are very busy we stop thinking about the disappointments we have had recently.

19. It is easier to forget an enemy than a friend. (William Blake)

When a friend betrays us we can suffer a disappointment that can do us a lot of emotional damage.

20. Expectations should not be taken as reality, because you never know when you will be disappointed. (Samuel P. Huntington)

Phrases and reflections on disappointment

Creating expectations is something that we should not do lightly, it is better to be cautious with our desires and work to make them happen.

21. If you don't expect anything, you can never be disappointed. (Tonya Hurley)

Not expecting anything from anyone is a widely used tactic to not disappoint us, too bad our mind tends to create expectations.

22. The early disappointment of a hope leaves a scar that is illuminated when the hope is fulfilled. (Thomas Hardy)

When we reach something we did not expect, we can regain hope and hope again in our lives.

23. Disappointments are often the salt of life. (Theodore Parker)

Indeed going through bad experiences is something that happens to all of us.

24. Some can be fooled all the time and all the time, but they cannot be fooled all the time. (Abraham Lincoln)

With the illusions of some, there may be disappointments of others and that means that in society there are always people who are permanently deluded and disappointed.

25. Sometimes good things move away so that better things can come.

Those things we lose can help us get better things into our lives.

26. People who do not expect justice do not have to suffer disappointment. (Isaac Asimov)

Justice and the law are two very different things and sometimes we expect things that are not what just happened.

27. How little it costs to build castles in the air and how expensive is their destruction.

We must not fall into false expectations; We must be more realistic with our life.

28. Having no expectations means having no risk of disappointment. (Jude Morgan)

This quote is very similar to that of other thinkers with whom everyone identifies, we should not anticipate events. One of the best-known phrases about disappointment.

29. Disappointments are for the soul what a stone for a quiet pond.

A disappointment can cause an earthquake in our being that they must learn to rebuild.

30. The first time you cheat on me will be your fault; The second time, it will be my fault. (Arabic proverb)

When we fall into the same disappointment twice in a row we must ask ourselves that perhaps it is our fault.

31. After disappointment, you have two options: learn and have more confidence for future goals or be sad and have less confidence.

We must not let disappointments dominate us, we must learn from them and how to avoid them.

32. You can't lose what you don't have and you can't hold on to something you don't know if it will come.

We must live our life day by day and live the moment, so we will never have disappointments.

33. Disappointment is the nurse of wisdom. (Bayle Roche)

Even the wisest people are wrong and fall into disappointment, they can happen to anyone.

34. Don't waste words on people who deserve your silence. Sometimes saying nothing is the most powerful thing you can do.

When we suffer a disappointment we must forget it as soon as possible, make a blur and a new account.

35. Appearances deceive anyone and excite many.

We should not rely on appearances, as these can lead to a clear disappointment.

36. If you have had a disappointment, take advantage to learn from it and do not forget not to fall back into it.

This quote summarizes in a very good way what we should face a disappointment.

37. I am not crying for you; You are not worth it. I am crying because my illusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are. (Steve Maraboli)

We can all feel identified with this phrase, many may have encountered people who have shown us over time not to be what we thought of them.

38. The statement without discipline is the beginning of disappointment. (Jim Rohn)

Affirming something without deep work behind it can be a mistake we should not make.

39. One of the greatest delusions in the world is the hope that the evils in this world will be cured by legislation. (Thomas Reed)

To think that by legislating in society we will end all its ills is without a doubt something that will lead us to a sure disappointment.

40. Is there anything in life that disappoints as much as achieving what you want? (Robert Louis Stevenson)

When we idealize a goal and achieve it, it seems once achieved as something not so good or of less value. One of the most translated disappointment phrases.

41. Why is it so difficult to express love and yet it is so easy to manifest disappointment? (Kaui Hart Hemmings)

When we are disappointed we find it very difficult to hide it from others, it is something that we can easily tell.

42. Disappointments in love, including betrayals and losses, serve the soul at the same moment they appear to be life's tragedies. (Thomas Moore)

Learning from these difficult moments will help us in the future to know how to better discern what we should do or how we should act in society.

43. We cannot escape disappointment; They always appear as the pimples that ruin your face on the weekend. (Jeffrank Valdez)

Suffering disappointments is something we all suffer throughout our lives and how we deal with them is what sets us apart as people.

44. Life is like photography, we develop from negatives.

All the negative aspects of life are the ones that take care of you and help you improve in the future, even the Rockefeller family came out of nowhere.

45. Doubts kill more dreams than those that have ever killed mistakes. (Suzy Kassem)

Doubting something and thinking of a future disappointment can end all our claims quickly.

46. Never marry, Dorian. Men marry because they are tired, women because they are curious: and both are disappointed. (Oscar Wilde)

Our disappointments can lead us to commit more serious ones if we don't know how to act correctly by learning from them.

47. Goodbye to disappointment and moodiness. What are men for rocks and mountains? (Jane Austen)

We must know how to be above disappointments and accept them as they are so that they do not affect us.

48. Disappointment is a blessing. If you had never been disappointed, you would never know what is important to you. (Kamand Kojouri)

Knowing how to give the right value to our mistakes will be what tomorrow will make us someone wiser.

49. Disappointment is that kick you get when you are already on the ground after being knocked down by the truth.

Suffering from this experience can be hard, but it will surely be beneficial in one way or another.

50. You cannot grow without having suffered a broken heart. You cannot mature without having overcome a disappointment.

Our most vital experiences are often the most painful, but they are also the ones we learn most about life.

51. Nothing is as difficult as not fooling yourself. (Ludwig Wittgenstein)

Not accepting a disappointment is something that we cannot do, because if this happens to us we cannot avoid feeling the feelings that can produce us.

52. There is no pain more harmful to the soul of a woman in love, than the pain of a disappointment.

In these situations, knowing how to mature our feelings and learn from it will be very useful to rebuild our lives.

53. Sometimes we create our own broken hearts through expectation.

We should not create false expectations or get premature illusions. We must be cautious with our thoughts.

54. Sometimes it is not necessary to listen to someone's excuses to defend themselves because their actions have already told the whole truth.

Our actions are what really define us as people, and with the words are not necessary.

55. Things are always as they really are, we suffer because we imagine them differently.

Creating a false reality in our mind will lead us unequivocally towards a guaranteed disappointment.

56. The more loyal you are, the harder the disappointment you will find, but the more valuable the experience will be.

Without our mistakes and disappointments, we would never learn the true value of good friendships or a loyal couple. One of the phrases about disappointment that can help us reflect.

57. It always hurts to let go, but sometimes it hurts more to hold on.

When we are disillusioned with a relationship, it is best to accept reality and start over.

58. It's sad when you realize you're not as important to someone as you thought you were.

These types of disappointments are very common and with them, we also learn to relate more honestly with ourselves.

59. Most things disappoint until you look deeper. (Graham Greene)

When we see the true meaning of something is when we see all its facets, what seemed like a disappointment can become a wonderful opportunity.

60. You will soon realize that it is necessary to let things go, just for the simple fact that some become increasingly heavy.

Learning not to hold on to something that has no solution will lead us to not suffer further disappointments in the future.

61. If someone treats you as an option, stay away from that decision.

Those who do not treat us as we deserve should be taken away from us, they deserve a false illusion about them.

62. We are only disappointed to lose things we never had in the first place.

When we lose something that costs us to get we can feel disappointed if it was easy to achieve we will never feel disappointed.

63. There is no more horrible feeling in the world than feeling doubt about something that once gave you security.

When we feel insecure about something we can feel fear of facing a possible disappointment, and that can be difficult for us to digest.

64. A perfect life is to have expectations without your disappointments.

If you got everything in life it could be considered a perfect life, but this is just an idealization of what it could be, the reality is much more complicated for all people.

65. People are not always what you want them to be. Sometimes they let you down or let you down, but first, you have to give them a chance. (Chloe Rattray)

How we choose our friendships can lead us to suffer disappointments or not, but until we really know someone we cannot be sure that they will not let us down.

66. There is nothing that hurts more than being disappointed by the only person you thought would never do it. Except when that person does it again.

We must not fall twice with the same stone, we must learn from it and improve as people.

67. Hope, but never wait. Look forward, but never look. That is the secret to escape disappointment.

We should not create expectations that may not be met, it is better to be realistic and hope for the best in the future.

68. Disappointments do not exist to destroy us, they exist to make us stronger.

A very successful appointment that keeps great reason, we must learn from disappointments.

69. Behind every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist. (George Carlin)

Cynicism is common in people who have been disappointed. We should not fall for it and learn from our mistakes by being honest.

70. When someone disappoints you, over time that same pain makes you wiser. Even if you can't see it instantly, a new you will break through the pain.

Wisdom is given to us by our experiences in life, especially those that have caused us more pain, because with them we get a better view of life as a whole.

71. Disappointment is just the action of your brain adjusting to reality after discovering that things are not the way you thought they were. (Brad Warner)

When this type of experience happens to us, it usually happens because our way of seeing the reality we live in was not totally reliable to what we were living.

72. Disappointment is a disease that begins with discomfort in the heart and spreads to others.

We must not pay our personal disappointments to others, on the contrary, we must be reinforced and hoping to be better, more human people.

73. It doesn't matter if you're sad, hurt, angry, crazy, disappointed, still put on your best face and move on. It will hurt but you will survive.

Knowing how to overcome disappointments quickly will lead us to be happier individuals, because problems as soon as we overcome them will stop being problems.

74. A person's greatest success comes after his greatest disappointments. (Henry Ward Beecher)

No doubt people learn from our mistakes, as the saying goes: sometimes you win and sometimes you learn.

75. I waited and waited. For minutes For hours. For days. But all he had was silence. And with the absence of your words, I made an answer.

To overcome a bad experience we must be ourselves who do our part to move forward in life.

76. You will end up really disappointed if you keep thinking that people will do for you as much as you do for them. Not everyone has the same heart as you.

Not all people are equally empathetic and care about others in the same way, which is why we can sometimes feel let down.

77. Disappointments are part of life, of personal growth.

All the experiences of life in one way or another will build the person we will become, we undergo a constant evolution throughout life.

78. The true antonym of hope does not despair, it is disappointment.

Indeed, disappointment is the one that ends any hope, but we can always recreate new ones by having a positive attitude and having faith in the future.

79. We live in an era of deception and disappointment. So much so, that people have lost their sensibility.

In today's society more and more people are very disappointed, but it is up to all of us to get excited again with the strength of our attitude, we must be positive.

80. The worst disappointment a father can cause his son is not to fulfill the promise that he was going to see him.

We must keep all the promises we make and with more reason those we make to our children, because they have blind faith in us. We are the greatest source of inspiration for our children.

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