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hieludoboi · 3 years

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In Our Next Life

A/n- I really should be writing my Daichi series but I got the idea to write this after reading the most recent chapter of BNHA

A/n- Damn, this is kinda a little bit of word vomit, but like that’s okay :’)

Pairing- Dabi/Fem!Reader

Summary-If not in this life, then the next, right?

Warnings- Abuse, Major Character Death, Endeavor, a little bid of blood? pretty violent, fighting and war, SPOILERS FOR MY HERO ACADEMIA CHAPTER 290

Y/n hated hero society. That much she knew. She often wondered how life was before quirks came to be. As a little girl, she would sit between her grandmother’s legs, mouth open in awe as stories of a time not her own were recounted to her, becoming reality on the tongue of her dreams. She wished she had been born in those times. No quirk, no corruption, no child soldiers… Y/n would often sit and wonder if maybe life could have been different in those times. Maybe her mother would have cared, would have loved her, and nurtured her instead of forcing her to grow her quirk until she became an unrecognizable monster when she looked in the mirror.

“We’ll prove ‘em wrong. Right, Touya?” Y/n mumbled to herself, her fingers clutching onto the small wooden frame that sat on her nightstand. She would become the hero her mother never could and avenge Touya. She would do anything for him.

———————————————

“Momma! Momma, I can’t!” Y/n screamed, face twisted in agony as the scarlet flames scorched at her face and skin, charring the flesh that was desperately trying to regenerate. Her hands fisted as much as they could into loose concrete, her delicate nails splintering against grey floors of stone and splattering them cherry red. She could barely see, the world around her blanketed in white except for his warm puddles of eyes.

Touya was being restrained by Y/n’s mother, his legs kicking and thrashing about as he tried to claw his way out of the woman’s vice-like grip. Touya’s wailing and Y/n’s guttural screams joined each other’s in harmony, producing an ugly duet. It was dissonant, clashing against each other as it got swept up in swarming summer winds. Y/n wondered if this was what hell felt like. A never-ending inferno of red’s and oranges, mocking a pretty sunset with its demonic hues. She wondered if Touya’s sobs would play on repeat in her head for the rest of her life…

“Stop! Enji! Stop!” Y/n had got lost amongst the wires of time, not realizing that Fuyumi had run to get Rei in the disarray of chaos that they had trapped her in. And suddenly the flames had stopped, and Rei was kneeling beside her, letting frost roam over the charred body of the ten-year-old girl before her. A head of white was all she could see for a moment, and then Touya’s graying head popped up from behind his mother’s shoulder, begging to be let closer.

Brown and blue, those hues brought so much comfort to her.Rei wiped her eyes, gently cradling Y/n and Touya’s bodies against her chest, enveloping them in a sheet of frost and comfort. It took a moment, but Y/n’s quirk eventually kicked in on its own, regenerating skin cells and tissue, restoring lost hair and patches of skin. At that point, Y/n knew that hell was Enji Todoroki.

————————————

“I’m sorry. He’s gone…” Fuyumi and Natsuo were the ones to give her the news. First, Rei was taken away, then Touya? God, Y/n was having the worst year of her life. She should have cried, she wanted to, and though her face contorted and her body heaved and shook with sobs, tears never fell. Tear ducts. They were the one thing that she could never regenerate.

Natsuo had held her as she sobbed into his shoulder, Fuyumi somewhere in the kitchen preparing a meal for them. Though they loved their brother dearly, they knew that Y/n and Touya’s connection went beyond theirs. They shared pain, abuse, and trauma that no one in their home could ever begin to comprehend.

“Please. Please take care of Shouto. He’ll do the same thing to him, and-” Y/n could feel the bile rising in her throat, burning her esophagus as she ran to the restroom. Her mother had died long ago in battle, and though she was free from their clutches, even though she was now alone to do what she pleased, the cinders of dully lit embers still prickled her skin. No amount of regeneration could get rid of the subtle scars that sat atop her skin, the burns from both Enji's and Touya’s flames being too much for her body to ever begin to handle.

—————————————-

Being a hero should have been the last thing she wanted to be, but here she was, hero suit and all, sat in a plush and comfy chair as she explained the basics of her quirk to the man who had been interviewing her. After all these years, she was sitting at Endeavor’s office, applying to work under his agency. Ironic, right?

“And this quirk is called Regen, right?” Y/n looked up from where her eyes had been focused on the subtle burn scars that still sat on her skin.

“Right. It allows me to manipulate blood flow, organs, etcetera, etcetera. If the human body makes it, or if it’s part of the human body, I can manipulate it. To activate it, I need to get at least four beats of a person’s pulse. Once I do that, I can manipulate their blood flow and organs. So I can either use them as puppets, or shut down their organs, but mostly I just restrict oxygen and blood flow enough to knock them out. I had to work really hard to be able to get it to do that, but my area of specialty is regeneration. I can do it to my body or someone else’s,” Y/n explained, a fake and yet oddly pleasant smile on her face.

“Any weaknesses or limitations?” The interviewer asked, nose buried in his notebook as he jotted down little notes.

“Well, my quirk subtly wastes away the inside of my body. I won’t age on the outside, but my insides age with every minute that I use this quirk. So I’m a little frail, but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Injuries by fire or heat also seem to be the one thing I can never fully heal. Oh and I think it’s worth mentioning that I can never fully heal ailments in one sitting. I can do the heavy work, or begin the process of healing bigger injuries, but if I try and heal all ailments and injuries at once, it will kill me.” Y/n explained, motioning to the subtle burns all across her body.The interviewer nodded, jotting down a note or two. Before she knew it, she was stepping out of his office, stumbling into an all too familiar, broad chest.

Quickly, she shoved the man away, her body beginning to tremble as the soles of her feet planted themselves firmly onto the carpeted ground, forcing her to face her hell. Looking up, she stared into cold, blue eyes. They weren’t warm; they weren’t comforting. They weren’t Touya.

“Ah, Y/n. It’s nice to see you here…” Enji’s voice was stiff, strained, and very obviously uncomfortable. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the massive scar that was etched across one side of his face. He seemed different. Not just in appearance, but something within him had changed.

Enji cleared his throat, reaching his hand out to shake Y/n’s hand. And before she could stop herself, she flinched. Not just a little flinch, but a jump. Her eyes were wide and torn with fear, her body curling into itself as a small shriek threatened to jump from the confines of her throat. The burns across her body seemed to sear all over again, and she could faintly catch a whiff of charred flesh. Enji stopped in his tracks, retracting his hand and instead shoving them into his pockets.

“Uhm, what brings you here?” Enji asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. Y/n took a deep breath, straightening out the wrinkles in her suit before forcing herself to meet Enji’s guilty gaze. Why was she here? She could have gone with the brutally honest and therapeutic reason. She could be here to face her abuser and find some sort of closure, maybe even become number one while at his agency and drive him insane, do something to avenge Touya, or.

“Well, I figured since I already know you and you were sort of my mentor, what better place to apply than here, right?” Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, her nails digging tiny crescents into the palms of her hands behind her back. She sounded so unsure, so pitiful and… Scared.

“Right, well, I’ll be sure to approve your application then. Uhm, I’ll see you around,” Y/n nodded, watching as Enji walked off, leaving her to stare at his back. Had she made the right decision? Lord, she hoped so.

——————————

“Y/n?” Y/n spun around, the confused look on her face dropping as soon as she made eye contact with Shouto. The boy hadn’t changed much since she had last seen him. Yet, he looked so, disappointed? Disillusioned?

“Shou! I didn’t think you’d be interning here!” Y/n exclaimed, scarred hands clutching onto loads of paperwork. Shouto frowned, taking a step towards her and gently touching the faint scars on her hands with delicate fingertips. Y/n took in a breath, not realizing she had been holding it until Shouto pulled away.

“I didn’t think you’d be working here, Nee-chan…” Y/n gasped, the oxygen getting stuck in her throat. It had been years since Shouto had called her his Ne-chan. Had she failed him?

“Shouto…” Y/n trailed off, sad eyes averting from the first year’s fierce gaze.

“We’re having dinner tonight, a few friends of mine are going. Fuyumi and Natsuo wouldn’t mind seeing you,” Shouto mumbled before walking away, leaving Y/n to stare once again at someone’s back. Had she made the wrong choice?

———————————————

Y/n had spent way too much time getting ready for this family dinner situation. This would be the first time in years that should be setting foot into the Todoroki household. She never realized just how much fear it could bring her. But this time would be different, she told herself as she pulled on a yellow knitted sweater. Natsuo would be there, and so would Fuyumi and Shouto. They would be eating dinner, not training.And so with a deep breath, Y/n forced herself to walk outside and drive herself to the Todoroki residence. Things were different now. She was grown, a pro hero climbing the ranks at a rapid pace. She had to be over it at this point, right?

She should have known. Standing at the front door felt more daunting than it was. Her body seemed to tremble with each breath she took. All she could see was fire, all she could hear were screams, and all she could feel was the stinging feel of flames against her already marred flesh. This was her hell.She was half expecting Rei to open the door when she knocked. And sure enough, she was met by a pair of warm brown eyes and a head of white hair. Natsuo. Y/n could feel her body stiffen, turning to stone against her will. She had severely overestimated herself.

Dinner was anything but smooth. Fuyumi was trying, lord was she trying. It was a tense night, with Y/n sitting between Fuyumi and Natsuo, a comforting hand wrapped around her unsteady hand beneath the table. Fuyumi had always been very kind to her.

“So how’d you do it?” Fuyumi and Y/n looked up, their eyes focusing on Natsuo, who was spitting venom at Enji. Natsuo looked like a cobra, hood raised, and ready to strike. Enji stared at Natsuo with a confused look, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “How’d you manage to get Y/n into your agency? She hates you and everything about you, so how’d you do it?” Natsuo spat, brown eyes turning into pits of coal as he stared Enji down. Y/n felt herself grow cold, the pair of chopsticks damn near breaking in her iron tight grip.

“What’s he talking about?” Y/n looked up, her e/c eyes following each and every one of Bakugo, Midoriya’s, and Shouto’s movements as he explained what he could remember to them.

“Natsuo…” Fuyumi trailed off, a soft voice of warning between the two heated males. Y/n sighed through her nose before letting go of Fuyumi’s hand.

“It makes no sense. He’s the reason for all her burns. They were so severe that she couldn’t even regenerate the skin back to normal! Her tear ducts are gone and her lungs will never be the same from all the smoke she’s had to inhale! It makes no sense, Fuyumi!” Natsuo yelled, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Natsuo, I joined on my own. No one forced me. I had my reasons.” Y/n stated, looking away from Natsuo’s hurt eyes. Maybe she had made the wrong choice.

“He’s the reason Touya’s dead! How could you work with him!?” Y/n flinched, her body becoming a statue, the chopsticks falling from her hands and clanging against the glass plate beneath her.

“Natsuo!” Fuyumi yelled, eyes widening as Y/n abruptly stood up. She looked sickly, a pale and grey undertone taking quite the liking to her face. The entire table watched as she stumbled to the front door, struggling to pull on her shoes.

She left before anyone could say goodbye, shoving her body into the car that almost felt too small for her, yet she couldn’t leave. It felt like something was tying her to the house, and she hated it. Taking a deep breath, she opened her car door, relishing in the way the crisp air filled her damaged lungs. It wouldn’t hurt to go back, right?

Stepping out of the car, she ambled towards the courtyard, her eyes darting from area to area. It wasn’t all bad. She had made some good memories with Touya there. Like the time Enji wasn’t able to take his usual Sunday’s off to torment Touya and her. She and Touya had played hide and seek with Fuyumi in the courtyard for what felt like hours, playful grins adorning their round faces as they stumbled around the pillars and grass. Y/n and Touya were six at that time.

Finally, Y/n was standing in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the stone floors that had shattered her fingernails so many times. Wincing, Y/n brought her fingers to her lips, chewing on the tips of her nails and tasting the familiar metallic twang of blood on her tongue. When she pulled her fingers away, they were fine. There was no blood, no splintering, nothing.It took longer than she expected, wandering around the area and remembering key details of her life with every corner she walked into. And then she fell, tripping over a stray water bottle and landing hands first into the center of the courtyard, her eyes focusing in on the giant cherry tree just on the other side of the stone floor.

“We’ll be the best heroes! You can control the enemy like puppets! And I’ll scare them with my fire!” Touya declared, bright blue eyes sparkling with stars plucked from the heavens. Y/n nodded, a determined smile on her face. They were sat on the floor, their bodies bruised and sore from the sparring they had been forced to do earlier. Her s/c hands cupped Touya’s face, working hard to clear the bruises along his eyes and cheeks. “And I’ll never have to worry about getting hurt when I’m with you! Ever!” Touya said a closed-eyed grin on his face. They would never have to worry as long as they had each other. “Thank you, oh, and here!” Touya pulled away from Y/n as soon as she put her hands in her lap, quickly scurrying over to the cherry tree behind him to pluck a sakura that had fallen to the ground.

“Momma says that sakuras mean new beginnings or something like that! I just think they’re pretty! You’re pretty too. Hey! Maybe your hero name could be Sakura! Because you’re pretty, and you can heal people, and people can start again when they heal!” Touya exclaimed, stumbling over his words as he focused on tucking the Sakura behind her ear so the flower stuck out a bit. Y/n giggled, nodding at his suggestion. She would do anything Touya asked.

She hadn’t even noticed she was sobbing until she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her body. And for a split second, she thought the feeling of raindrops running down the apples of her cheeks were tears. When had it started to rain?

“Let’s go inside, yeah? Dad and the kids went to go help Natsuo. He left a little bit ago.” Fuyumi explained, helping Y/n stand from the cold concrete floor. Y/n sniffled, nodding her head. And as they made their way into the living room, Y/n finally felt a little at peace. She was grown now, a pro hero who could finally fight for herself. For the first time since she had walked into that courtyard, she left without any scars, any fears. She walked in on her own, did what she wanted, and left. Maybe, just maybe, that courtyard couldn’t control her any longer.

———————————

Y/n hated hero society. She knew that now more than ever. Here she was, fighting a war alongside child soldiers who were too young to be risking their lives for some ‘glory filled’ death. She was tired, so, so tired. Her muscles felt like they were wasting away with each breath she took. Her arms and hands were sore from being stretched out for so long. She was past her limit, controlling up to five villains with one hand, working her hardest to help heal five other heroes as they constantly hurt themselves with her other hands.

“Renge! You’re needed upfront, we’ll handle things here!” Y/n looked around, wondering exactly who had given her the command but couldn’t find the person to who the voice belonged too. She could only see the confident faces of her peers as she one by one let her enemies and allies go. Shouto was up front, so were his friends. Y/n took a deep breath. They weren’t too far from the front lines, and she was lucky enough to have been given a lift by some winged hero. She took her time in the air to heal herself, just a bit. She was going to die in the battle, that much she knew. She might as well die looking good, right?

“Come dance with your son in hell!!” Nothing. Nothing could have prepared her for the voice that rung through her ears, piercing her brain and heart in just one second. It had been ages since she had heard that voice. But he was dead. Stumbling as she jumped off of the other pro hero, she slowly walked to stand beside Shouto. And sure enough, there he was. His face was maimed, held together by staples and purple flesh, blue eyes resembling the marina trenches, his lips twisted in some crazed grin. It couldn’t be. Someone had to be posing as him. Touya was dead, he had been dead for years. Touya wouldn’t be a murderer, this wasn’t Touya. Y/n bit down on her lip, wincing as she tasted the blood that began to trickle down into her mouth. She was a hero now, and her priority was to help her comrades, not reminisce or let her past emotions get into the way. Even if it was Touya, it wasn’t the Touya she knew.

Y/n didn’t allow herself to think, her vision going spotty and body going hot as her hands stretched in front of her. She had felt his pulse enough times, and if it was him, he would bend to her will. But still, she hoped that his body would move on its own, she hoped that he wouldn’t succumb to her quirk. She hoped it was someone else.

Dabi felt himself going insane as he stared down his father and brother. He had wanted this for years, and now, here they were. Enji could finally pay for what he had done. Amongst the chaos, he failed to notice the way his body went rigid, a familiar cold grip wrapping around his veins. Where had he felt this before?

Dabi gritted his teeth, straining against the non-existent wires coiling around his veins, restricting his movements, and using him as a puppet. Vague memories of a childhood lost to trauma encircled his mind, and his vision seemed to be going spotty. But it couldn’t be. Not her, not Y/n. Dabi grunted, his knees hitting the ground as he turned to stare to the right. Sure enough, there she was, her costume ripped, her face bruised and bloody, her muscles wasting away behind the latex that wrapped around her body.

Her eyes were wild, seemingly blank as she focused in on his body. He had only seen that fear cross her gaze when she looked at his father, so why was she looking at him like that? Yet still, he found himself walking towards her slowly slumping figure. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear the sobs that left her lips. She hadn’t changed, her skin just as scarred, her eyes just as empty and fearful. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt him, and he knew it.

Grinning to himself, Dabi chuckled, catching her gaze and watching as she tried to remain indifferent.

“Your cries give you away, doll,” Dabi chuckled, the sound raspy and cold. Y/n flinched before closing her eyes and attempting to steady herself. “I missed you, y’know?” Dabi took a step towards her, blinking in surprise when he realized she wasn’t using her quirk on him. “I know all your weaknesses, I know the ins and outs of your quirk, and you’re letting me go?” Dabi mused, his burnt hand coming up to cup the side of her face. Y/n felt the sob rip painfully from her chest as she leaned into the touch, bringing up her maimed hand to clasp onto his.

“He really did a number on you, huh, Y/n?” Dabi said softly, his gaze becoming tender for just a moment before returning to its piercing and frosted state. Y/n nodded her head, letting her body fall against his chest, wrapping her arms around his disfigured body. Dabi grunted, eyes wide in shock, his knees buckling beneath him. They fell onto the rubble beneath their feet, knees bruising against crumbled buildings and twisted metal poles.

“You’re alive…” Y/n choked the words out through her sobs. Her hands gripping onto his shoulders, not willing to let him go. She couldn’t lose him, not now that he had finally come back. Dabi stiffened, his arms slowly wrapping around her shaking form. They sat like that for a moment, trembling against one another, against the mess of the surrounding city.

Finally, Y/n pulled away, her unsteady hands cupping Dabi’s face, her worried eyes studying his face and twisting in heartbreak. Why was she looking at him like that?

Y/n pushed Dabi away, her chest violently rising and falling, her breaths feeling like hornet stings inside her lungs and throat. His eyes were no longer warm, they were void of emotion; they were filled with hunger, a hunger she hadn’t seen in years. This wasn’t Touya. Y/n took shaky breaths. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to convince herself that the man in front of her wasn’t the boy she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Dabi felt his breath catch in his throat, his hand extending towards her before falling to his side. Why was she scared? She knew it was him, right?

“Y/n, it’s me. It’s Touya…” Dabi croaked, his eyes filling with pain as he crawled towards her. Y/n shook her head vigorously, shuffling back anytime he tried to come close to her.

“Stop it. You’re not Touya!” Y/n flinched at the scream that tore through her lips, not expecting the words to fly from her chest in the way they did. “T-Touya wanted to be a hero! Touya wanted to save people. He loved his baby brother, Touya, Touya wasn’t some sort of monster!” Y/n spat, the venom dripping from her words and splattering against Dabi’s eardrums.

“I did what I had to do!” Dabi yelled back, his eyes wide and filled with hurt. How could she say that about him? “I was willing to do whatever it took to show the world what he had done to me- to us!” Dabi explained, his voice wavering as he knelt among jutting pieces of cement and debris.

Y/n let her back rest against a random piece of wall, her chest heaving as her lungs struggled to obtain air. She had overworked herself. Her lungs were practically disintegrating. She was tired, and her body could no longer move. On the inside, she had the organs of a ninety-year-old. This was it for her, and she knew it. But at least she got some closure, right? Through her lidded eyes, she watched as Dabi rushed towards her, blue eyes filled with worry, and maybe even warmth.

“Hey, hey! No! You can’t go on and give up! You have to beat that bastard at his own game, remember? Become number one, drive him insane!” Dabi explained as he scooped up her limp body in his arms. Y/n blinked, her eyes cold and slowly dimming.

“We. We were supposed to do that…” Y/n whispered, her hand weakly reaching up to try and hold his face before meekly falling onto his chest. Dabi took an unsteady breath, taking hold of her cold hand and pressing it to his cheek. “I hope, that in our next lives, we’re able to live the life we always wanted…” Y/n mumbled, her fingers finding purchase on his pulse. Dabi blinked, eyes going wide as soon as he realized what she was doing.

“Stop it- stop! You’re going to die!” Dabi yelled, his voice cracking as she restricted his movements with her quirk.“I was going to die anyway. I knew this would be my final battle, Dabi, so let me die looking at the Touya I knew, and not you.” Y/n mumbled. Dabi could feel the way his sobs racked his body. Her face and body beginning to grow pale, her eyes tired and almost dead as she poured what was left of her into his recovery.

A weak smile grew on Y/n’s face as she watched the burns on his body begin to heal, the staples falling off one by one as his skin slowly began to go back to normal. The flesh beneath her fingers grew soft, the color returning to its pale and rosy state.

“Could you imagine how different our lives could be?” Y/n whispered, a sad smile on her face as she watched the patches beneath Dabi’s eyes disappear. “Sakura and Touya, pro heroes, working side by side… Y’know, I never felt like I could take that hero name. I settled with Renge. Sakuras symbolize starting anew, remember? I never felt like I could start again. I felt, that after Touya died, I had to grow through mud,” Y/n explained, her chest rattling with stinging wheezes, her face growing gaunt and grey.

Dabi took a shuddering breath, his hand gripping onto Y/n’s free hand, nodding along to the words that weakly slipped from her lips, getting lost in the chaos around their bodies.

“I’m right here, Y/n. Touya’s here…” Dabi sobbed, pulling her body closer to his, willing her to see him for who he was, for who she knew him to be. Y/n shook her head, the hurt in her eyes eminent despite the way they shrouded with death.

“You only look like Touya,” Y/n murmured, flinching as droplets began to fall onto her cheeks. She looked up at him with a feeble gaze, watching as the tears collected in Dabi’s eyes before dripping down his face. Frowning, Y/n attempted to brush away his tears with her thinning hand. Dabi sniffled, looking down at her body as it wasted away in his arms. His eyes held yearning, an agony that only they knew existed. And for a moment, they even seemed tender as he stared down at her. For a moment, Touya was there.

“In our next life, Touya…” Y/n rasped, her hand falling to her side, her eyes dimming until there was nothing left. Touya could feel the way his body broke down, the agonizing screams ripping past the confines of his throat and getting lost in the battle behind them. He could feel the tears rushing down his cheeks, dripping down his chin and filling the dips in her now scrawny face. Her chest shuddered one last time, her final breath raking past her lungs and dissipating into the wind.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, curled around her body. She was thin, pale and so, so utterly broken. Touya couldn’t help but wonder how they had gotten to this point, what their life could have been like if he had just gone to her, looked for her. In his quest to destroy his father, he had lost sight of himself, and ultimately let his ambitions get the best of him.

Touya took a deep breath, harshly wiping the tears off of his face. He gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze, gently laying her body amongst the mounds of rubble where someone was sure to find her. He could only hope that they would meet again.

“In our next life, Y/n…”

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theturtlelovers · 4 years

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How would the turtles react and/or help their S/O after being told that their father is a narcissist? And they've been a victim of narcissistic abuse their whole life. Reccently I realized my dad is a narcissisit and I've unknowingly been a victim of narcissistic abuse my whole life.

I relate to this on a personal level. My own father was a narcissist, and though I wasn’t a direct victim of the abuse, my own mother was and I had witnessed it with my own eyes. I do believe I have Narcissistic Victim Syndrome since I do struggle with anger, indecisiveness, regularly have to deal with low self-esteem, anxiety, doubt, and attachment issues. I hope you seek help if you ever have the same symptoms as I do.

Narcissistic Father

Warnings: Narcissistic abuse and cursing.

Leonardo

At first, the signs of you having a selfish person in your life didn’t click to him at all. He just thought you were a very indecisive person who had low self-esteem. But then he started noticing the smallest of things that told him that something else was going on.

Adding low esteem and your indecisive ways, he saw that you struggled with anxiety, were a people-pleaser, and had self-destructive behaviors that gave off warnings.

It fucking scared him. He wasn’t hiding it very well, either. His brothers and Splinter were immediately concerned, not understanding why the leader in blue was freaking out every time you left the lair, or why he would give you long stares when you said you had a hard day.

He was building up the courage to ask you about it, worried you would close him off when he said something when you came running to him crying. That moment, seeing tears coming from your eyes, he doesn’t hesitate to ask what happened.

He was relieved that you didn’t put up a fight in telling him what was going on with your father’s narcissism. Though, he was infuriated at the same time, now knowing that you hadn’t realized that your father was narcissistic.

Leo doesn’t need to think twice to see that all connections need to be cut off. After explaining the situation with his family, they all agreed that you didn’t need to have your father in your life if he was only going to bring harm. With his brothers’ help, ties with your father ceased to exist, and you now lived with them. If your father tried to insert himself into your life again, Leo was there to stand up for you and keep him in his place.

Once your safe from the narcissistic abuse, he sets out to rebuild what your father tore down. At first, he may seem harsh about scolding your destructive behaviors, but once he explains that he’s only trying to help you, it becomes more understanding. Leo will take a different approach if he notices that the pointing out part doesn’t help.

Expect lots of love and encouragement too. He loves you dearly and is distraught that you had to tell him something was going on. He makes it up to you, though with kisses and sweet nights together.

Raphael

Let’s just say he was extremely frustrated before he realized that something was going on. Ever since you two had gotten together, he’s been trying to bring your self-esteem up and become confident in your choices. It’d work for a couple of days, and then it was back to square one all over again.

Eventually, he can’t stand being frustrated, so he ends up going to Splinter. No way in hell is he admitting that he’s having trouble helping his s/o to his brothers. He spills everything about your troubling behaviors—low self-esteem, weak boundaries between yourself and others, angry outbursts, etc. Once Raph had told his father anything he could think of, even Splinter was troubled by how destructive this personality had become. He advises him to talk to you about it since this isn’t something to ignore.

At first, Raph is hesitant to ask you about it, not trying to intrude on your personal life. But when he thinks that since you’re his s/o, and that something terrible is happening to you, your privacy no longer matters until he knows your safe. However, he doesn’t even get the chance to ask about it when you suddenly pour your heart out to him.

Your father is narcissistic? What? He’s confused at first. Is that the reason why you have so many negative traits? He’ll comfort you and promise to make things right, but the moment you’re gone, he’ll run to Donnie and ask for cons to having a narcissistic family member. Donnie will obviously ask why he wants to know. Raph will have to explain your situation to have the nerd list why you shouldn’t stay with your father.

He won’t ask you if you want to get away from him. He’s already doing that for you. Pack your bags and everything, and out of that place you go. He’ll make sure you get away without any complications, and no one was going to get in his way.

Recovery is one of his top priorities now. He works to get you back on your feet and have more confidence in your life. If your father tries to ruin that, you can bet my ass he’ll pay him a personal visit to keep him away.

He’ll beat himself up that he didn’t notice your fucked up relationship with your father. Aren’t fathers supposed to protect their daughters, not tear them down to make themselves look good? Knowing why you have a hard time with anger and self-esteem, his patience had increased and didn’t get as frustrated as he did before.

His protectiveness also grows, but luckily, he has brothers to keep him from being overbearing. He is more sensitive to talking about your father, and he secretly hopes you see Master Splinter as your new father figure.

Donatello

We all know that Donnie saw the signs before you even told him. He didn’t say anything because he wanted you to speak to him on your terms. Knowing what it feels like being pressured for an answer, he’s not going to put you in that position. Of course, he doesn’t know what’s happening precisely since you never come to the lair physically hurt or upset, so he is continually fretting over why you have these symptoms.

When you end calmly telling him that you found out that your father was a narcissist, it all pieced together for him. He’ll stare at you dumbly before apologizing to you for not realizing that the primary source of your problems was from a family member. You’ll have to reassure him that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, seeing that not even you knew that your father was the one making your life harder. At least Donnie could help you properly now that he knows what the issue was.

He’ll let you have options on what you can do. If you live with your father, he will suggest moving out and living in your own home, stay with a family member more appropriate to care for you, or you can stay with his family.

Donnie will explain the situation to them in the most professional way possible and say that it was better this way for your mental and physical stability. The turtles and Splinter adore you, so they will insist you stay with them.

Being the hacker that he is, he will “advise” your father not to contact you, or Donnie will share their private information and sell their belongings. If you’re ever upset that you don’t have a father in your life anymore, he will tell you to look at Master Splinter as your new father figure.

He won’t be your therapist since he knows it’ll get personal, but he does go on the hunt for the best possible ones and suggest the best treatments for optimal recovery.

He brings himself down a lot for not figuring out why you struggled so much with anxiety and self-esteem, and he looks to you for comfort. He does it by giving you affection and little gifts that he makes.

He’ll be mindful speaking about your experience with narcissistic abuse and has his ways of helping you regain your confidence and anxiety. He’s determined to give you the support you need to proudly stand on your feet and not worry about some guy tearing you down to make himself feel better.

Michelangelo

Oh lord, this sweet angel. Any symptoms of narcissistic abuse will fly right over his head despite being naturally being in tune with people’s emotions. Sure, he will shut down any negative thing you say about yourself in a heartbeat and give lots of encouragement when you doubt yourself, but it doesn't pop up in his mind how frequent it happens since he’s always moving forward and not stopping to think about it.

Mikey won’t think about it until you say something. Then he’ll give you this confused look. He has no idea what happens when you have a close association with a narcissist, so you both take this moment to go Donnie and get a small lesson of Narcissistic Victim Syndrome.

He will have no words to say, because what? At this point, he’s kicking himself for being so stupid and not seeing that there was a source to your constant doubts and lack of confidence. Donnie will give him some advice on how to handle this situation, and he will go with it, even if he doesn’t understand what was said.

Cue him timidly asking if you want to live with him, so you no longer have to deal with the prick you call a father. If you say no, then he’ll tell you to live somewhere else and not have your father be a part of your life anymore. If you do agree, he will be so excited to have you close by nearly 24/7. Mikey will help you move your stuff in and store away things you believe you won’t need.

Mikey will sit with Master Splinter and ask questions similar to those he gave to Donnie because we know how to genius works. He’s been told the scientific part of the abuse, not the emotional. He knows his father will help him give you the best support you need and was proven right that the old rat gave fantastic advice.

Now that he is more aware that something had happened between you and your father, he can easily spot a symptom that shows from a mile away. Getting angry? Gives you something to laugh at instead. Doubting yourself? He’ll be the confidence you lack. This turtle loves you dearly and will do everything he takes to make it up to you and help you be the best you can be. His brothers will be super impressed about how tentative he is when it comes to taking care of you.

Keeping your father out of your life won’t be a big deal to him since Mikey has three older brothers to do that for him because he wants to focus on you, not him, but if he manages to get past to them all, he’ll personally see to it that he never does again.

His affection will surprisingly remain as it was before. However, there will be a slight change he goes about it. He’s more observant and will purposely send compliments that will boost your self-esteem. This turtle is the King of Compliments™, so he won’t have any trouble giving you any.

Tagging: @brightlotusmoon @confused629 @whygz @kokokatsworld @supershiny-raven @coulrofilia-sexuell

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years

Text

My Afternoon With a Corpse

I was falling to pieces quite beautifully I might say when she made her way over the hill. She had a pale face the color of paste and ashen as a forest after the flames. She had to be only nine or ten, though you never know with people walking in from the past. They always were a bit smaller back then.

The biggest way I could tell she was dead besides the grey skin and the bruises under her little eyes was the way she walked. She strode like a very inebriated elementary school student, all knees and dragging her toes and swaying back and forth as she made her way over the hill.

I was sitting in a graveyard so I don’t know what I expected. I peaked over the top of the pages of my book as she drew ever-closer.

“I’m not your mother,” I snapped at the creature since I had been a governess to enough children as it was.

She lumbered and teetered and slowly made her way toward the bench I was sitting on. She was wearing a very fine blue dress with a pink bow tied in the back and little black shoes. Her parents had probably been wealthy enough to bury her in that, the posh bastards.

“I have nothing for you.” I articulated and tried to turn away.

She took a seat next to me on the bench. I noted how her little nails were covered in dirt and splinters. I wrinkled my nose and she settled beside me.

“Took the nasty way out I take it?” I said conversationally, though by then I had a feeling her tongue had rotted in her mouth and she wouldn’t say anything to me.

She turned to me with her blurry-wide eyes and I stood up with a jerk. I snapped my book shut, “I come here to be alone, little cretin.” I sniffed loudly and turned away, “as I said, I have nothing to offer you.”

I got up and moved to the next bench under two large beech trees on the outskirts of the graveyard. It was a fine day in March with the winter chill barely a memory on the land and the earth soft and almost mud under my shoes as I moved.

The little girl heavily picked herself up and took her time plodding all the way over to my new bench. My eyebrow twitched and I huffed, “I was just fired you know. Fired from my job. Do you know how inconsiderate it is to bother people who have just had major life events?”

She was only 9 or 10 so she obviously did not grasp this concept. She just stared at me expectantly.

“Fine,” I opened my book a crack, “but I’m only doing a chapter or two and then you have to move on. And I’m not doing any voices.” I promised.

She continued to stare and I cleared my throat.

“This is Virginia Woolf, one of the greats,” I continued, “so mind yourself. I won’t tolerate any tongue-wagging at this point.” I smirked at my private little joke at the corpse’s expense.

I chose a fitting story to read her.

“Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights…” She watched in awe as I got to my favorite parts. It was rather nice to have a captive audience, “nothing, I knew, had any chance against death…” I read that line and then flicked my eyes over to the corpse. “Except you I suppose. You are quite the abomination.” I said before continuing the story.

I closed the book when we got to the end and the sun was slanting sideways across the sky and I sighed heavily. It wasn’t exactly the ideal atmosphere for the dead to be walking. There was too much sunlight and bright skies in the favor of joy and frivolous things.

I put my book in my bag, “Was that enough?” I asked as I stood and the creature scrambled to get down and take a place by my side. We stared at each other for a full minute before I relented. “Oh alright.”

I put my hand out and she took it just as she would have in life. Her skin was bone-cold and the flesh was terribly soft and loose. I cringed and bit down on my cheek, “I hope someone loved you dearly in life.” She said nothing, “because I’m not doing anything more for you.”

I walked her stiffly right back over the hill where a squirrel skittered out of the way like a train was barreling toward him. He ran zig-zag away from me and the abomination.

She followed me like a docile lamb down the hill until I spotted dirt piled up around an enormous hole. I didn’t pull her toward it or drag us there, but I veered our path toward the open grave.

“The authorities will be looking for something like you.” I said neatly. “They’ll want to see if there’s an infection in this graveyard. Probably feed your bits to a holy fire or what have you,” I glanced over at her, “are you prepared for that?”

She took her strange, ungainly steps and I sighed. “Yes. Fine. I’ve crossed worse people before anyway.”

I took her gently toward the open grave that she had desperately scratched and dug her way out of. Her wide eyes became even wider and she edged behind me as we approached it.

“Be a brave girl now,” I chastised but studied her worn gravestone. “MaryAnne.”

She had only been nine when she died over two decades earlier. I turned toward her as she hid behind my skirts. “Don’t be difficult,” I said as I did to all the children I taught. “It’s only eternity and we all have to do it.”

She glanced up and shook her head. Her dull brown curls bounced as she did.

I studied her for a moment and considered forcing her back down into her resting place. My eyebrow twitched. “Goddammit,” I took a seat on the mushy ground that would probably stain my skirts. “I won’t wait forever though.”

I let go of the little girl's hand and she quickly inched away from the grave. I took out my book and set my mouth into a furious frown as I started to read again. I pretended not to watch her.

The little thing ran sloppily back and forth across the wet grass. She chased the animals which fled from her with wild fear beating in their tiny hearts. She spun around in lopsided circles and seemed to stare at the sun for at least an hour.

I was meant to take the 4pm train back to my little house and write a very strongly worded letter to the Denise's for firing me. I stayed in the grass instead.

The sun was kissing the treetops when the little girl came back to me. She was holding something between her ruined fingers and I put out my hands. “Give it here.”

She offered a large brown moth. It was still twitching and alive, but she held it ever so softly between her dirt-covered hands.

“So you have been listening.” I tried to catch her eyes. “Then you know what you have to do.”

She handed me the moth and I quietly pushed it back into the sky where it flapped once, twice, and fluttered off to probably go tell its colony-mates that it had the worst possible day.

I bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s late.” I said. “And isn’t one afternoon enough?”

She took my hand again and I laced our fingers together. I guided her toward the gaping wound in the earth. “I know it’s not fair.” I muttered, “but few things in life,” I eyed her, “or death, are.”

She was still staring up at me and we took another moment to clear off the splinters and torn pieces of wood in the hole before I positioned her in front of her broken casket again. There was a shattered bottle nearby where I assumed someone had poured the virus elixir on her grave.

Perhaps it was a prank or a body-snatching scheme or some drunken hijinks where they hadn’t been patient enough to stick around and dig her up later.

“Stupid.” I shook my head, “Adults can be so stupid, MarryAnne.” I bent down toward her. “It’ll be over soon.” I crooned, “and comfortable again…”

She nodded and I slipped my hands under her armpits and gently lowered her into the hole. She lay back down in the velvet bed and closed her eyes as the sun set. I huffed. “Someone loved you dearly.” I watched as the virus was finished with her spirit and what was left of her body. “Don’t think that didn’t mean something for your short time up here. Even if it was… too short.” I pretended my voice didn’t break on the last words.

I spent the rest of that evening pushing and digging and filling the hole back up with dirt. I couldn’t bear to look at her small face again after the sunset. I just knew I saw a moth crossing the moon as it rose and I had to take a break to find my handkerchief.

I wasn’t weeping over one dead child of course. You would spend the rest of your life weeping if you were going to mourn each one.

But her name was MarryAnne and she had gotten one last afternoon in the sun. I heaved dirt back onto her with my bare hands and went home aching and filthy and with people openly staring at me as I passed.

I would never be a governess or teacher again after that night. But I did visit a small grave from long ago and read a story about a moth to it each year after that.

————-

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ellohcee · 3 years

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Ghosting

Jasper's gotten pretty used to being a ghost and things are actually going really well. He's dead, so there's not much else that can go wrong, right? ...Right?

AO3 if that suits your eyeballs better | Inspired by this lovely illustration here | Wordcount: 10,049

warnings: non graphic death mention (but not permanent because ghosts yknow? yeah)

- - - -

Out in the quiet countryside sat an old, decaying house. It stood imposing amidst the shady woods surrounding the grounds and the green fields beyond that. A large, three story beast cradled in isolation and feeling cut off from the rest of the world, the trees blocking sight of the nearby highway unless you stood directly on the long dirt road leading out. From there it was still probably a fifteen minute drive of open field until you could reach civilization, Jasper’s hometown to be precise.

The air tended to be quite still this time of day except for an occasional short lived breeze, the absolute quiet broken only by the rustle of leaves, the lonely chirping of a cricket, the occasional creak and moan of the old manor standing like a looming shadow in the fading light. The sun was dipped close to the horizon, ready to set away for the night and painting the sky with a wash of golds and pinks in its path.

Somewhere a frog started croaking softly. There was a small creek running through the woods that tended to bring around wildlife of a few sorts. Deer liked to graze and birds liked to forage in the overgrown lawns. Mice and rats had taken up residence in the debris of the old house, bringing feral cats, foxes, owls, and other small predators to make an opportune meal.

Nature hadn’t entirely taken back the house despite it’s lack of upkeep and crumbling state, but it had carved out a way for the wildlife to make use of it.

And now as he watched these happenings like usual, the day was coming to a close just as it did every other, but for Jasper it was just starting.

He hummed softly under his breath, eager, that familiar spark of excitement flickering in his chest like he was alive again. He watched the sun steadily descend beyond the skyline, the trees around them filtering golden rays of light into the garden, onto his love. It lit up David’s face in such a beautiful warmth he often had trouble believing the statue wasn’t really flesh and blood when the sun was setting.

At least while he waited he had a most wonderful view, thinking as always that whoever sculpted David did such an amazing job. Maybe he’d been modeled after someone the artist loved very dearly, to put such care and detail into his face and his hair and his hands… hell, everything about him was perfect. There had to have been love poured into the process, because there was no way a statue made simply to go in anyone’s garden could look so radiant.

Jasper had been dead for fifteen years, but David had been around for a lot longer, a marble statue poised in the middle of the old fountain in a long forgotten garden of a long forgotten house. He woke as the sun went down every night without fail, and Jasper waited the same way each evening, excited, ready to see his best friend and boyfriend after being alone all day. As the minutes wore on his anticipation grew, building.

Memories of life were sketchy for the ghost, sometimes lost in a heavy fog and sometimes as clear as the failing VHS tapes he’d kept from childhood, still able to be deciphered but a little flickering and fuzzy. When he wasn’t in the fog, he could recall how he died. He could remember going into that house, stupidly, hoping to find… what? It had been looted and gone through many times, so there was nothing of value left, he’d just wanted some excitement. To see something interesting, the passage of time on a once beloved, extravagant house.

Stupid.

It was right out of the old horror movies he loved, and it had just been too hard to resist. All the stories floating around town he’d eaten up as a child, being so interested in the paranormal. Not that he’d expected to find anything of that nature, no one ever had in that old place, but it just sounded so fun and creepy to go wandering an abandoned three story mansion. He’d gone into the house, exploring, turning things over, looking at old books and photos and trying to imagine what life had been like when it was occupied. Wondering why it had been left to the elements.

Stupid.

He’d eventually made his way upstairs to the third story, actually being very careful and minding the integrity of the steps beneath him, he swears, but still the boards at the top were far too gone to trust.

So stupid.

He’d never forget the lurching sensation in his stomach before he’d actually fallen, that sinking feeling as the step creaked far too loudly beneath his feet for just a second, a warning that came too short. Old, weathered wood gave way under his weight, splintering, probably going out all the faster for his last ditch attempt to jump away to the landing.

Down he’d fallen, straight down the center of the winding staircase, three stories, and that’s when things got hazy. Mercifully he’d never been able to recall any details, including if it was fast or slow. It couldn’t have been pretty was all he knew, as the house was littered with piles of debris and rotting wood. Lots of ways to make a three story fall lethal if it wasn’t already. His memory just skipped to waking up the next day, somehow knowing immediately something was wrong, that he was wrong. And upon looking down at his hands, seeing through to the floor beneath them, and stumbling backwards right through a solid wall…

That was that.

Some days he wondered if anyone found his body. He hadn’t checked in a while, he’d stopped going near the house once he met David. David was so much better than that old shitty house and the memories and the phantom pain of death that sometimes rendered him in the fog for days at a time. And that’s how it had been for a while, slipping in and out of that fog, floating around the house without knowing where or why he was going. Your typical lights-on-but-nobody-home wandering spirit, he thought to himself on occasion. At least his humor was in tact on his better days.

But good god then he’d met David. He’d wandered out one day when the airy voices of the house had grown too loud, when the image of rotting ceiling stretching away from him became too much. It had been just before sundown as he’d floated through the garden in curiosity, admiring the way it had taken back the man made structures. He’d been there before, he was sure, but obviously not at the opportune time.

It was probably filled with carefully tended flowers at some point, but now it was all overgrowth. Benches, trellis, the fountain, archways, cobble paths, all covered in moss, ivy, and other native plants. Except… the statue. He’d found it rather odd, how it looked almost entirely left alone compared to everything else. It still had some faint moss creeping along here and there, but nothing like the mass of clinging ivy that entombed everything else.

He’d been staring in wonder at the statue’s beautiful face, hovering closer to get a better look, admiring him and wondering how the sculptor had pocked individual freckles onto his cheeks with such delicate care. He must have been so entranced to not even notice the wash of color slowly spreading up through the pale marble, dim as it was out here in the fading light...

Then the sun flickered out behind the trees, and the statue’s eyes opened.

Being a ghost himself, shit like this shouldn’t have surprised him, but he’d never met anyone in or around the house since death, alive, dead, or in between. And boy this was some kind of in between he’d never expected so it did knock him back. The man previously made of pale stone was now looking alive and human and staring back at him in matching shock as Jasper scrambled away mid air.

“Wait, please,” the statue said softly, his voice warm and disarming, immediately making Jasper’s fear dissolve like drifting smoke. His eyes swept up and down, frowning as he took in everything wrong with Jasper. The way he hovered, the way he could see right through to the garden beyond, the slight wispy mist that hung around him. “You’re...”

“Uh, dead, yeah,” Jasper had replied, coming a little closer. “You’re…?” he trailed off uncertainly, an invitation to be filled in, because David’s case had been a lot less obvious at first glance. Was he himself the statue and he came to life at night? Was he a spirit possessing the statue and animating it? Was this some sort of illusion that came with a haunted house? He’d never met any other ghosts, was Jasper alone enough to consider the manor haunted when he didn’t even go in there most days?

But David himself wasn’t sure, he just knew that he ‘woke up’ every night with sundown, essentially asleep and unaware during the day, and it had been this way for longer than he could remember or even guess at. He must have been alone here for quite some time, that was for sure, and hazy as Jasper’s memory was for being dead a few years at that point, David’s must have been a sea of uncertainty.

But they’d got to talking after the initial shock, eager to finally have someone to interact with, getting to know each other, talking about their lives, becoming fast friends. He’d soon stopped wondering so much about what David was, because whatever he was, he must have been alive at some point. There was no way a soul so bright, so kind, so loving and warm could have been manufactured from nothing. He wasn’t just a statue that grew a personality when he woke up at night, he was far too complex and nuanced and beautiful. Sure he could be naïve, dense even, but he was the sweetest damn person Jasper could ever remember meeting.

And after a certain point, finding himself one day staring longingly at David with what must have been the silliest look and these types of thoughts waxing poetic, he’d realized his heart had run off without him.

Every day from then of he’d fallen deeper in love with the statue in the garden. And good grief, for amazing as David was, he’d somehow found Jasper worth loving right back. One otherwise inconsequential day they were doing their usual routine. The moon was high, bright and full and illuminating them both in a liquid silver. He remembered thinking how beautiful David looked. He was so suited to warmth and daylight and the sun, but god the moon sure didn’t hold back on him either. He’d gone quiet listening to David speak, not realizing he was staring openly and hopelessly love struck, lost in a haze, until David called his name.

“I love you,” Jasper had blurted without thinking, startled out of his haze on the exact thought that had been going through his head. David had frozen in surprise and they’d stared wide eyed at each other for a long few moments after the slip. Jasper’s long dead heart, or maybe a memory of it, pounded hard in mortification because oh fuck what if he’d just screwed up big time with his best and only friend, the love of his life and afterlife, his anchor in the fog of days that ran together-

“I love you too,” David had suddenly whispered, his eyes bright and glossy and more alive than ever and Jasper felt like he’d died all over again, but this time he’d gone straight to heaven. And it had remained like that from then on, better in fact.

Their nights spent together were always enjoyable, talking and telling stories and David getting confused by his slang. David himself spoke kind of prim and proper, simple but eloquent and precise with his words, always polite and friendly, never snobby. However old he was, he seemed to be at least several decades back in time. That left him understandably caught up on some of Jasper’s words and expressions, at which point he always stopped and explained to David what they meant, watching the understanding as he nodded, but still tinged with confusion because it sounded so odd to him

Be it a single word, a phrase, a concept, even things that were way beyond him like movies and video games and VHS tapes. He always wanted to know, and Jasper always took the time to explain, even if he wasn’t always the best at making it understandable. Sometimes Jasper thought he made things worse trying to explain tech to David, but it was still something to talk about, and a fun challenge to try and find the right words.

But it got easier and easier for them to converse all the time, and they had fun and never ran out of things to talk about. Sometimes they just wanted to sit together, silent but comfortable and just soaking up each other’s company. David couldn’t leave the garden for whatever reason, some shitty stipulation of whatever curse he was under, Jasper figured. Whenever he tried to go any further than about twenty feet from the fountain, his vision started going dark, his movements slowing as if the action was turning him back to stone on the spot. So they always just sat together in the garden.

Not that it made much difference where they were, Jasper being dead and David destined to turn back to stone upon daylight, but it would’ve been nice to at least walk around the woods or something. It would’ve been especially nice just to know that David wasn’t stuck on some invisible leash unable to follow Jasper beyond his garden home. Regardless, as long as they could be together it was no harm no foul to the statue. He was never too pressed about it anyway.

And now, years after Jasper dying in that stupid house and several more years after they’d met and formed the resident paranormal-odd-couple, things ran in much the same way as ever. And this found Jasper waiting like usual, antsy, giddy, ready to shoot the shit with his favorite person in the world in life or death.

He hovered closer to David’s pedestal in the middle of the old fountain, eager to see those beautiful eyes open and that perfect smile just for him. The sun was nearly gone, it would be soon, but not soon enough for Jasper. “Are you awake yet babe?” he whined softly, cradling the statue’s face with one hand. “I wanna see you,” he added, petulant.

Silence remained between them for a few more minutes as the last touch of light slowly faded off of David’s face, leaving the garden bathed more and more in the growing shadows of dusk by the moment. Jasper sucked in a gentle breath as color started bleeding into the pallid stone, life itself slowly flooding through David’s body and letting him know it was time, any second-

And then those eyes opened, and there was that beautiful smile that made him forget about being dead for the night or just plain not care. “Jasper,” David greeted softly, his voice warm like honey and just as sweet. “Good evening my darling.”

“Davey,” Jasper said in delight, hovering closer and hugging the man as David reached for him in turn, kissing him squarely on the lips and earning a pleased hum.

Jasper could remember a time where he’d thought nicknames like darling or sweetheart were so corny and frumpy. He thought he’d be caught dead being called something like that by his partner should he find one, and funny enough that ended up being the case. But he liked it. They sounded so wonderful coming from David, and maybe that was all the difference he needed, actually hearing those things from the voice of the one he loved. Instead of making fun of the love struck goobers on those cheesy romance flicks which he had definitely not indulged in as the occasional guilty pleasure.

Now he was the love struck goober. Such is life… death… whatever.

“How are you today?” Jasper hummed, planting another soft kiss on David’s lips after they’d spent a good minute or two hugging each other close.

“Seeing you first thing as I wake up? How could I be anything less than wonderful,” David replied with a sweet smile. “And you?”

“Much better now, it’s so boring all day without you,” Jasper pouted sadly, making David laugh at his childish expression. “I’d love to sleep during the day, just like, turn to fog or whatever the other dead dudes are doing, but I am just here waiting for you to wake up like a sad little puppy,” he lamented. He could kind of drift off and let his mind and focus wander, but that was the best he could manage. At least besides falling into the soul sucking fog, but he’d much rather be awake and bored and pining for David all day.

“You know I wish I could keep you company in the daytime,” David soothed, placing his hand on Jasper’s cheek, smiling at him. “But at least we have the night, always, just you and me,” he said gently, leaning in for another kiss, long and tender and filled with so much love Jasper swore he felt alive for a few moments. The warmth that kindled in his chest whenever David touched him grew and swelled like a tidal wave, making him feel ridiculously, stupidly happy and he never wanted to let go.

Who knew you could be so fucking happy and drowning in love in death. That you could go years and years in the same routine with one person and be just as hopelessly, giddy in love same as the day you first realized they loved you back? He figured it was possible, obviously, if you found the right person. And boy had he found that person, and sure it was the most absolutely unexpected time and circumstances, but he wouldn’t trade David for anything or anyone.

When they parted, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other in a pleasant haze, Jasper sighed heavily, a goofy smile stretching his lips. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too, so, so much,” David replied tenderly, his hand still on Jasper’s face, where the pad of his thumb swept so softly across his cheekbone, his smile warm and inviting and filling Jasper’s whole world to the brim.

“Now,” David sighed, breaking Jasper from his inner lovesick poet that emerged in full force conveniently around this time. “Tell me about your day, not just ‘boring,’ tell me what you did,” he invited warmly, always wanting to hear the details even though it was always more or less the same. But he never got tired of hearing it, never failed to ask, and never failed to make Jasper the happiest man in death. He couldn’t check with all the other ghosts but he was damn sure he was the happiest one because no other ghost -or living person- had David.

And that made him the clear winner. Not that he was smug about it. Of course not.

“Well, I floated down the path a bit towards the main road, back around the house, through the woods a bit… I found a flock of birds and tried to see how close I could get,” Jasper grinned. He’d long since discovered animals could see him, and it had become a game, his only daylight pastime of any amusement really, to see how close he could get. Sad, but he made due. He would gladly chuck rocks at the house if he could physically interact with anything other than David, but much as he tried, he could not. His career as a poltergeist was not going well.

“And how did you fare today?” David indulged kindly, amused by his game.

“Pretty close!” Jasper insisted. “Like I coulda reached out and touched the closest one, but some stool pigeon piped up and they took off,” he tsked. “Buncha bird brains,” he added slyly, grinning.

David choked back a laugh, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners in the way Jasper loved so much. “Oh stop, you’re terrible,” he chastised, his words losing all bite with the smile on his face.

“Terribly handsome,” Jasper shot back, his smile growing in smug delight when David laughed again. “Look babe, this builds up in me all day, cookin’ away while I wait for you,” he insisted. “If I had someone to haunt I’d gladly bring them my material during the day and terrorize them, but it all comes to you. All this bullshit needs an outlet, and you’re the audience, you know this.”

“I know it very well, and much as I shouldn’t, I do love it,” David replied happily, delight still stretching his smile wide.

“Then we’re in agreement,” Jasper said matter-of-factly, leaning in to steal a kiss, muffling David’s next giggle. He was still caught up in the joy of David waking up for the night, joy for the fact that David thought his shitty jokes were funny. Joy that Jasper could always bring a laugh and a smile to his boyfriend’s face, because god damn it was like the best drug.

When they parted again he sighed in content, resting his forehead gently against David’s. “Thank you for always laughing at my jokes. You shouldn’t indulge me so much but I love that you do.”

“I don’t indulge you, I enjoy your jokes,” David rebuked firmly, but still smiling.

“Even when you don’t get ‘em?” Jasper teased.

“Even then, because the happy look your face while waiting for me to get it or not makes me happy, that’s the best part.”

Jasper paused, unable to come up with a witty response because sometimes David just knocked him so far sideways he had to take a moment to collect himself. Finally, he gave up on witty and just buried his face in the crook of David’s shoulder. “Holy schnikes dude, stop, you’ve turned me into such a giant sap,” he whined softly.

You absolute giant love struck goober, he chastised himself.

David chuckled, the wonderful sound making the embarrassment worth it, patting Jasper’s back in comfort as he let the ghost cling to him. “I’m sorry, I do believe I was born in an age of shamelessly poetic love, I can’t help it,” he smiled, resting his cheek against Jasper’s hair and sighing in content.

Embarrassed as he sometimes got, even still, Jasper would happily take an eternity of it to be ridiculously sappy with his Davey.

- - - -

That was how things continued to go for some time. Until one day, otherwise uneventful like all the rest, Jasper found his routine broken. And despite how much he often wished for something interesting to happen during the day to save a little sanity, this was not what he was looking for.

He watched a truck drive onto the property after hearing the engine approach from beyond the trees, hovering near David protectively as it parked and two men got out. They stood in the large roundabout driveway, talking, pointing at the house and across the grounds. They were in suits, something that made Jasper anxious, holding clipboards and going through paperwork, which made him double anxious.

These were not kids or ghost hunters here to poke around for fun.

He worried his lip for a few moments before placing a hand on David’s shoulder, even though he couldn’t feel or hear during the day. “I’ll be right back Davey,” he said softly, before hurrying over to the men to better hear what they were saying. Part of him knew, but…

“-and the permit will be in next week, then we can start demo and removal.”

Jasper didn’t have any practice haunting people since no one ever came around to the house, so all he could think to do was jump up in front of the men abruptly, yelling in their faces. But they were without care to his efforts, going on with their conversation while he hovered uselessly.

“We’ll need all the heavy duty, hm?”

Jasper’s face pulled into a pinched frown, abruptly waving his hand through the closer stranger’s clipboard in an attempt to knock the thing from his hands, but it remained stubbornly in place.

“Yes, a crane, a couple bulldozers, excavator, and several dump trucks. The whole crew, and we’ll get the house torn down.”

An icy feeling flooded Jasper’s veins (why could he still feel shit like this? He was dead!) and he turned to dart back over to David.

Next week. Next week these suits were going to come and rip down that old piece of shit mansion. Which was fine, he hated that fucking house, but… they wouldn’t stop there, he feared. They wouldn’t go to the bother of ripping down a decrepit old house without clearing the overgrown, decayed grounds, including the garden…

The anxiety swirled into an absolute storm within his chest in the short time it took to get back to David, hovering next to him in dread as he watched the men talk. They stayed for about twenty minutes, walking all around the manor in a circle, looking in the doors and windows, making notes, discussing, pointing.

Finally, as they were walking back towards the truck, they stopped and looked towards the garden, pointing practically right at him. Jasper sucked in a soft, anxious breath and wrapped his arms around David from behind, watching the men. He didn’t know what he could possibly do if they came over here and if they happened to threaten the statue, but he wouldn’t leave David. Maybe he could learn to pull some poltergeist shit before they came back to tear down the house if he practiced hard enough.

He waited and watched them like a hawk as they talked a little more, before finally getting back in the truck and driving away. Jasper slowly relaxed, but only a little, remaining wrapped around David as his mind whirled and his stomach churned.

As desperately as he wanted to talk to David and share this important information, he was stuck with his own thoughts until sundown, which was at least a few hours off yet. He swallowed thickly, moving his arms around David’s middle and resting his chin on the statue’s shoulder, staring unseeing at the house as he sunk into that familiar fog for the rest of the day. Except, it wasn’t the usual of just being lost to the living world, dazed and placid and without thought.

This time, it was filled with dread and fear, not for himself, but for David.

- - - -

When David woke up that evening, it took him a moment to clue into the embrace he’d been wrapped in. Jasper was still holding him from behind, arms around his middle and forehead resting on his shoulder, absolutely still and silent.

“Jasper?” David asked with a growing frown, turning his head to look at the ghost. When he received no answer, his worry increased, setting a hand over Jasper’s tense arms. “Jasper, sweetheart?” he pleaded softly.

Suddenly the ghost sucked in a breath, his head lifting from David’s shoulder as focus swam back to his cloudy eyes. He blinked, turning to look at David with his mouth open just a little. “Davey!” he said in a rush of exhaled breath.

David tried to turn in Jasper’s hold, reaching a hand up to cradle his cheek. “Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked, still frowning. He’d seen Jasper like this only a few times before, on really bad days where he’d fallen too far into that fog he spoke of. Like he’d lost himself, sunken down in some deep dark sea from which he had to swim back up to the surface.

Jasper swallowed, looking anxious. “Davey, there were some guys here today, at the house,” he said, jerking his head towards the looming building, still unwilling to relinquish his almost desperate hug.

David looked concerned, surely thinking of how Jasper died exploring the forgotten halls. “Did they go in?” he asked.

“No no, not like- not kids poking around. Like, business- or- construction guys. They were talking about- about ripping the house down,” Jasper said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady, his eyes worried. “And I think- I think they’re going to tear up the garden too,” he added grimly, seeing the realization dawn on David’s face at the same rate that Jasper’s chest filled with heartbreak on top of the dread.

“They- they’re going to...” David trailed off, sounding a little fearful and obviously trying to keep a cap on it. But it was clear as day in his eyes, David had never been good at hiding his emotions. He felt so strongly and wore his heart on his sleeve, so Jasper was able to see all too clearly and painfully the looming terror in his heart.

Jasper swallowed the lump in his throat, or tried, as it would not seem to budge. “I think they… might try to tear your fountain down,” he said thickly.

David’s face had gone pale, drained of color almost as if he was turning back to stone at this news. Instead, he took a long, shaky breath, eyes focused on Jasper’s shoulder. “Well,” he said shortly, his voice trembling a little as he tried to stay composed. “We- there’s… nothing really we can do about that, should they- should they try to-” he broke off, voice catching.

Jasper buried his face in the crook of David’s neck, holding him tight for both of their comfort, feeling David’s hands trembling just slightly where they rested on his back.

“When are they going to…?” he trailed off weakly.

“I dunno,” Jasper replied, muffled into David’s shoulder. “They just said ‘next week,’ so I don’t- I don’t know...”

“Mmm,” David hummed back, a deceptively calm reaction on the surface, because ‘next week’ was a lot to process. Next week was awful short notice to come to terms that you might be…

His hands clutched a little tighter against Jasper, staring out at the garden he’d called home for so many years. So many years spent alone in an endless existence of waking and sleeping with each night and day, blurring together in a stream. Not as many years (but a thousand times more important) since Jasper had wandered out to the garden at just the right time.

Years where time suddenly regained meaning for them both, the passing of the sun and moon becoming a countdown to see each other, to hold each other, to speak of anything and everything without ever becoming bored despite the lack of new topics. To just be together even if they didn’t feel like talking.

Suddenly there was a very real threat of that all coming to an end. And as much as David was afraid for himself, he was terrified for Jasper. He didn’t want the ghost to go back to being alone, the days passing in a blur without meaning. It had taken a little while into their friendship, but he’d gotten details from Jasper about that state he called ‘the fog.’ It sounded similar to what David had experienced before they’d met, and he badly, desperately did not wish to leave Jasper alone to go back to that…

It would still feel awful but not quite as much if there was someone else here to keep him company, some other ghosts, at least one for him to call a friend. But he would be left entirely alone, and David feared what that would do Jasper. Because if their positions were switched he knew without a doubt he would be an absolute wreck to lose Jasper. He couldn’t even fathom how it would feel, he didn’t want to.

He fought back tears, holding tight to his love as these thoughts swirled around in his head without mercy. There was nothing he could do. Nothing either of them could do. He couldn’t leave the garden, they couldn’t run off together to avoid the promise of what was to happen. David was stuck here and they would both have to simply wait for it to happen.

At least, he tried to reason, if he were to die it was nice to have Jasper by his side until then. A silver lining on a dark, dark cloud. But it wouldn’t help Jasper in the end, he would still be left alone, David would still be gone, so he couldn’t find any real comfort in this thought.

All he felt was fear.

- - - -

The days started passing in a heavy blanket of growing dread. Jasper stayed with David continuously, not daring to go drift through the woods or around the house like he normally did when his boyfriend was asleep. Their conversations became quieter, less casual chatter and more just taking each other in. As if to savor the time together when it was too hard to attempt faking their usual carefree interactions. It was just easier to admit they were scared.

They spent longer and longer saying ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’ as the sun started creeping up each morning. The words became much more solemn, heavy, more of a veiled ‘goodbye’ just in case things went wrong come daylight. Suddenly every parting was threatening to be their last, bringing a terrible, sick feeling, wondering ‘will this be it?’ with every passing of the moon. But on the flip side, every nightfall when David woke up, it was with the most intense relief and pained delight to see Jasper’s face. To see him possibly one more time. And they would hold each other silently for a long time, just soaking up the touch and love mixed with heartache.

As much as Jasper had seriously considered his poltergeist idea, he’d quickly abandoned it. He’d gone 15 years without being able to interact with anything around him besides David, it was highly unlikely to change now. He’d much rather stay close to David, both to have more time with him and to keep watch for when those men came back.

And sure enough, they did.

He’d lost track of time but six whole days passed since their last visit, and as soon as Jasper picked up the sound of tires and heavy engines approaching, his stomach dropped out. Now he watched as the trees surrounding the road revealed trucks and heavy construction vehicles. Bright, nauseating yellow harbingers rolling down the long dirt road from the nearby highway. The one white truck a week ago had been bad enough, now this whole squadron of people ready to flip his world upside down made him want to vomit.

“No,” he protested weakly, his hands starting to shake. “Not yet.”

He’d been hoping but not really believing that maybe they’d just… never come back. And things would go back to normal and they could go back to their routine after a false alarm. It was unfounded but he couldn’t help but cling to that little bit of desperation. That maybe it would all be okay.

So much for that.

He watched while holding tight to David as the vehicles rolled to a stop, scattered about the large driveway in front of the house. People started getting out, garbed in hardhats and bright vests, looking ready and willing to start their destruction for the day. Jasper’s stomach churned in such heavy dread, he was pretty sure he would be throwing up if he could.

There was really no amount of time long enough to come to terms that your boyfriend might be killed without a second thought, but six days had been nothing. Suddenly it felt like it had all gone in the blink of an eye, the years they’d spent together about to be ended, and it just wasn’t enough.

Jasper stayed like that for a while, arms wrapped tightly around his David, watching as people walked around and made their plans for the day and got their equipment ready. He spared no thought as someone operated the crane and wrecking ball towards the old house. Somewhere in the back of his mind he suddenly wondered if the house was what tethered him here as a ghost and what would happen once it fell, but he couldn’t spare it much thought.

All he could do was wait, wondering if they would start on the garden today or focus on the house. Would it be better or worse for it to be put off another day? If they were spared for the moment, how would he manage to tell David once he woke up tonight? Would he wake up to see the house half torn down and just know? It almost felt like… a mercy, for him not to know for sure. It was so… vague and nebulous not to know exactly when it would happen. What Jasper was feeling now was probably a mere fraction of what David would go through if he woke up tonight to be told ‘this is your last night.’

Jasper swallowed the lump in his throat, these thoughts quickly breaking him down. He shouldn’t have to think about shit like this. About losing the love of his life, about David dying, about never seeing his smile or hearing his laugh or being told how much David loved him ever again…

Without realizing that he’d started to fall into the fog, drowning in these terrible feelings, Jasper suddenly snapped out of it when a few of the crew broke off and headed his way. Suddenly he was back on high alert, every phantom nerve in his body firing with anxiety and fear. As terrible as this last week had been, telling himself he only had a finite amount of time left with David, it all suddenly became indisputably real.

Jasper watched the construction crew approaching, nerves relentlessly eating at him because they were talking about the fountain and if they were going to bring down the whole house they were surely going to tear up this entire garden without care to salvage anything, even a beautiful, lovely statue that had only a thin layer of moss here and there-

Without preamble, one of them approached with a sledgehammer and he panicked, his heart racing with unprecedented fear. He moved quickly around to hover between David and the approaching man. “No! Stay the fuck away from him I swear to god- do you fucking hear me? Stay away I’m warning you, asshole-!”

And without preamble or waiting until Jasper was properly done with his threat, the man swung the sledge hammer in a smooth but violent arc. It went right through Jasper’s body despite his instinctive move to block it, bringing with it a wave of nausea and dread so strong he almost passed out as he whirled around at the terrible sound behind him-

Just in time to see his David, his beautiful, perfect, loving David crumble into a heap of stone, chunks and dust scattering into the empty fountain and crumbling like his heart and Jasper screamed-

The demolition workers collectively paused, unable to hear him but seemingly feeling his anguish like a cold wind on this bright sunny day for just a moment. A couple of them shivered briefly as a haunting chill ran up their spines, before shaking it off and moving on with business.

And all Jasper could do was collapse onto his knees, shaking like he’d never done before in life or death and he already couldn’t see his lovers remains because the tears were so thick and burning in his eyes and they wouldn’t stop. “Davey,” he forced out in a harsh whisper, barely able to speak through the frantic breaths that he couldn’t control, ripping past his lips and catching his throat painfully. And fuck all- he’d never wondered if ghosts could still experience crying and hyperventilating but apparently yes he very well could- strongly at that.

Maybe in hindsight it was a fair trade, if he could still feel love and joy and elation, logically it would follow that could also feel heartbreak and desolation.

His shaking hands tried to scoop pieces of the destroyed statue, making him sob harder because they passed right through- he’d always been able to touch David, they could touch and feel each other and he’d never passed through David like he did other solid objects so did this mean- his soul was gone? That the worker had absolutely, unarguably murdered his love right before his eyes without knowing either discretion?

His shoulders quaked as he tried to hold himself together, because he’d been right and David had a soul, he was once alive and unique and now he was gone and Jasper’s hands passed through the stone like any other object and he couldn’t remember feeling more alone than in that moment. The pain was so unrelentingly sudden and vicious it threatened to rip him apart, like he could die all over again and he kind of wished he would, because he couldn’t- going back to that lonely routine without David, to have known his light and warmth and love and have that cruelly ripped away-

The worst part was none of them would ever know the passing of such a warm light from this world, of someone so bright and beautiful and kind, no one but Jasper knew or would remember David. It felt like such a grave injustice that he could be torn away so easily and the only person able to mourn him was Jasper.

But in his defense, it sure felt like a world’s worth of mourning...

He hunched in on himself tightly, feeling sick, his ears ringing as he choked on a hard sob, tears running down his face to drip onto the old stone fountain. Everything around him abruptly faded away, the construction workers, the sound of the house being torn down, the loud beeping and rumbling engines of heavy trucks, all fell away to a terrible hazy buzzing. It was as if he was sinking underwater, the depth muffling more and more of the sounds around him as he drifted.

He wanted very much to curl up and lay in the fountain in hopes that he’d somehow become solid and they could put him out of this absolute misery when they destroyed it, let his remains lay with David’s in a pile of stone to be discarded in a landfill somewhere. He didn’t care, he just wanted to be anywhere other than that creeping abyss pulling him down, because it had never been this dark and hopeless before, swallowing him up so ruthlessly like maybe his own soul was fizzing out with David’s and this was what it was like for a ghost to die-

Suddenly a glow appeared beyond the mess of tears that distorted his vision, making Jasper sit upright a little, swiping a hand over his eyes because it was practically shining in his face. He scrambled back a little as a mist floated up from David’s remains, coiling and twisting the air and gathering close, starting to take a shape that was almost human and making Jasper’s heart race.

He watched as features began to form, achingly, painfully familiar features constructed before his eyes as if painted into that delicate mist with the finest brush. That or he was already losing his mind from heartbreak and he was imagining all this but honestly he would take that over being alone.

And then eyes opened with a sharp gasp, looking around frantically before squinting against the sunlight, shielding his eyes because he’d never been awake during the day and goodness it was bright- why was he awake during the day??- then he spotted Jasper, a mix of confusion, fear, and concern turning his face. “Jasper?” He asked shakily, lowering down from where he’d been floating, reaching for him.

Jasper’s breathing came fast and shallow, tears still pouring down his face as he stared in shock at this specter, the spitting image of his love but now- now David was like him-

He choked on a rough sob, pushing himself up to lunge at David and capture in him in a desperate hug, shaking hard with emotion because he could feel David- he still felt warm and solid and he’s here he thought frantically-

“Jasper,” came that familiar, warm whisper, arms wrapping around him and holding him close. “Shhhh, it’s alright sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing Jasper’s back.

“I t-thought he killed you,” Jasper cried roughly into his shoulder. “I thought you were gone- I thought he killed you-”

“I... think he did,” David whispered, sounding lost and confused. It hadn’t been what he’d meant to say, it surely wouldn’t be a comfort to Jasper at all but he couldn’t help it. He had to process here and now and it seemed it would be out loud. “I feel different than before, I can’t explain it but- I feel it.”

Everything was different, confusing. He’d expected to wake up at night like usual or not at all, not midday with things being torn down all around him, Jasper crying his heart out and mourning David, and himself now distinctly dead much like his love. It was both a relief to be gifted this chance and terribly world shaking to comprehend what was happening.

“But you’re not, you came b-back to me, I- I-” Jasper choked, feeling David hold him tighter as he rattled in the other man’s arms.

“Sshhh, easy, easy,” David soothed again, his heart wrenching to hear Jasper in such distress. “Come here, let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said, looking around at the construction workers moving through the garden without care to their emotional scene, feeling pain upon seeing ivy and arches being ripped down- his own crumbled remains lying strewn in the fountain churning his stomach-

He helped Jasper up, already seeming pretty adept at moving around as a ghost, and they floated away from the center of the garden, away from the house, where overgrown ivy met the nearby woods. The trees and foliage were so dense here that it helped to muffle the sounds of destruction and dim the light of the sun. It helped that they didn’t have to go far for some reprieve, finding a large rock to sit down together.

Jasper looked up as David cradled his face, swiping tears from his cheeks with such care and love it made them fall faster again. “Davey,” he hiccupped weakly, his voice broken and nearly lost under grief, leaning into the touch. “I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you,” he said again, shoulders hitching.

David’s face etched in sorrow to see him in so much pain, and he gave up on wiping the tears away to instead pull Jasper close in another hug. Jasper leaned into him desperately, needy for the reassurance that David was alive- well- as alive as they could get, but still here with him. But even so Jasper was going to see the image of David’s statue crumbling for years and years to come, he knew it would never leave his mind. Suddenly for the first time ever he was thankful he couldn’t sleep, for if he could it would haunt his nightmares without relent. One good thing about being dead, he had to admit.

They held each other tight for a long time as Jasper cried it all out of his system, for as quickly as David had come back the shock and pain of losing him had been immense and soul wrenching. He was still swimming out of that sea of despair and the thoughts of wanting to die right along with his love.

David was perfectly content to just give him all the time he needed, holding tight to assure Jasper he was still here and running a hand up and down his back. Wishing he could take all that heartache from his love, to share that burden with him and ease the pain if only a little.

Even long after Jasper stopped crying and went silent they stayed wrapped up in each other, Jasper leaning heavily against David as the other man supported him easily, protective, comforting, whispering the occasional soothing assurance to him. Reminding Jasper that he was right there with him. That he loved him.

When Jasper finally drew in a long, raspy breath and sat upright, he roughly scrubbed tears from his face. Once his hands were out of the way, David cradled his face and leaned in to give him a tender kiss, not even bothering to ask if he was okay because it was obvious he wouldn’t be okay for a while. He had one foot each in fucking great and fucking terrible and they met in a painfully jagged line.

When David pulled back to look at him sadly, but so full of love, Jasper almost started crying again but managed to keep himself together. David’s hands slid down to take his, and Jasper pulled one of them closer to inspect. “You’re like me now,” he whispered finally, rough and scratchy, his voice fighting past the lump of emotion that still wouldn’t go down.

“I am,” David replied softly, his eyes on their joined hands, a similar shade of misty gray that just barely revealed a hint of past life. His skin color was still there but transparent, muting it into a pallid shade as if a person could be washed and faded in the sun. “I suppose... I don’t know,” he added, uncertain, confused, because now he had more questions than ever before.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked quietly, sodden eyes flickering up to David. Because sure he’d dealt with a soul crushing despair for those few terrible minutes, but how was David handling this?

“I- I think so,” he replied, tangling their fingers together and squeezing weakly. “I just... I don’t know what I am. More than ever. I still don’t remember how I came to be in that garden, I thought I was just... a statue, I hadn’t ever imagined I was alive enough to become a ghost,” he shrugged weakly.

“You were never just a statue,” Jasper insisted, weak but determined. “I knew from the start you were alive, you have a soul and heart, you’re the most beautiful, amazing person I’ve ever met and there’s no way someone as warm as you could be ‘just a statue.’ I don’t know how you ended up like that but you were alive in your own way,” he said firmly. “You still are. You’re still here with me.”

David’s eyes had gone glassy during Jasper’s muted but passionate words, and he sniffed softly as he looked down. “Now I’m going to cry,” he joked softly, almost inaudible, his voice catching just a little with the truth of the statement. “I suppose I can look on the bright side, I’m no longer condemned to that garden, we can- we can go wherever we want now, I can be with you during the day!” he insisted softly, suddenly grasping his new found freedom. He hadn’t even thought about his previous confinement, he’d just wanted to get Jasper away from the sounds of construction. “I won’t be... asleep, a statue anymore....” he said in wonder.

“All the perks of ghost world now,” Jasper quipped in an attempt at his usual humor to lighten the mood, even though his voice was still thin and shaky. “You can float, we can go haunting together, super romantic date material, that’s kinda rad, yeah?” he offered.

David’s breath caught on a weak laugh, earning an exhausted smile from Jasper at the familiar exchange. He knew David didn’t always get his humor or it wasn’t even particularly funny if he was being honest, but bless his heart he always laughed and Jasper couldn’t get enough.

David smiled, bringing their linked hands up and kissing Jasper’s knuckles for a long moment, sighing softly as those fingers gripped his own. “I hate that you had to suffer such hurt for this to happen, but I have to admit, it’s nicer this way,” he said quietly, smiling at Jasper.

“It is,” Jasper whispered, his heart stirring in happiness for the first time in what seemed like ages to see that smile once more on David’s freckled face. A frown didn’t suit him at all, not that it made him unattractive, but he was just… meant to shine like the sun, and a frown was very much akin to heavy clouds blocking out that warmth and light. Had David smiled at all since Jasper brought the news? He couldn’t recall, he didn’t think either of them had until this point. It felt good to smile again, to see David smile again even if it was still tinged with sadness. “Totes worth it, by the way,” he added, grinning.

David laughed again, leaning forward to pull Jasper into a tight hug. They stayed that way for a long time, wrapped up together, the sounds of the house being torn down lost on the wind for all they cared.

- - - -

Later that evening they found a spot to lay under the stars, the construction crew having called it for the day and leaving them in blessed silence once more. He’d obviously taken for granted the absolute quiet this area usually sat in, as it was now a godsend not to be hearing that heavy machinery and the house being torn down.

Jasper stared up at the sky s he soaked in this reprieve, his mind whirling over multiple things that had been coming to bother him since the fiasco earlier.

Eventually, David rolled on his side in the crook of Jasper’s arm, resting a hand on his chest. “Darling, what’s troubling you?” he asked softly, the unspoken ‘besides the obvious’ left off of his query. There was something else now weighing heavy on Jasper, he could tell.

Jasper took in a soft breath, measured, anxious. “I just- had these terrible thoughts and I’ve been thinking- what if- I… I don’t even want to say it...” he trailed off, frowning. It almost felt as if speaking the thought out loud would help it into existence. One of them, anyway.

“Tell me,” David encouraged gently, leaning a little closer. “Whatever it is I don’t want it resting on your shoulders alone, let me share it with you. Let me help.”

Jasper sniffed softly, his heart squeezing with so many emotions. He’d long gotten used to how sweet and caring David was, never taking that for granted of course, but after nearly losing him today those little things had started to hit him straight in the heart again. Every touch, kiss, sweet assurance and act of love from David made him think how close he came to never feeling those things again.

“Well… the first thing is uh. When. When he broke you,” Jasper said, his voice cracking a little on the word ‘broke.’ “Um, I started to think about if. What if you hadn’t come back like his?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to them both before resting his hand over David’s, still on his chest. Those fingers twined with his own, squeezing gently. “And what if. Like. You were still in there. And the sun sets and what if you woke up like normal but you- you were- Would it hurt? Would you be able to feel-” he cut off, unable to finish the sentence.

David frowned, a similar thought having passed through his mind, among many other possibilities ranging from simply being gone to a lot more terrifying and painful. He squeezed Jasper’s hand again, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles. “Well luckily none of that happened, but it does no good fretting over it and making yourself sick with worry or what could have gone wrong,” he assured, advice for both of them because he’d been fighting that scenario for a while.

“Yeah, guess so,” Jasper sighed.

“But it feels better getting it off your chest?” David asked hopefully.

“I think, yeah.”

“And what of your other worry?” David encouraged.

“Well, this one’s not really what could have been and more… what could happen?” Jasper said nervously, turning his hesitant gaze to David and seeing the beginnings of concern on his face. “Um, I still don’t- I don’t know if anyone ever found my body, in the house,” he said quietly, making David’s eyebrows furrow and Jasper knew he was starting to clue in where this thought was going.

“So I started worrying, what if it’s still there and what if they find me?” Jasper whispered, feeling David’s hand squeeze his a little tighter, that fear setting in for him well. “And if they do… will that like… will I ‘move on’ or whatever?” Jasper wondered, hearing David’s breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you alone, I want to stay with you,” he insisted, his voice starting to break. “And I’m scared that- if my body- or bones or whatever are still there and what happens if- if-” he broke off, putting his free hand over his mouth to ward away the oncoming burn of tears.

David took a long, slow breath. “I know I’m going to sound really selfish by saying this but… I don’t want you to leave either,” he whispered. “If you were unhappy like this and wanted to move on, I would understand… but we…” he trailed off, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“Then I’m just as selfish, because when I thought you were gone, I- I fucking wanted to die too,” Jasper whispered brokenly, his voice dissolving as he spoke the words. “It hurt so much and I couldn’t imagine being stuck here alone without you,” he croaked. “I don’t want that for you either- I want to stay-”

“Shhh,” David soothed, pulling Jasper into his arms where he promptly buried his face in David’s shoulder. David let him work through another round of tears. It was quieter this time, less like the breaking dam from earlier and now a residual trickle of hurt. He’d gotten through the bulk of the water works earlier but there was still more to give, because that pain he felt, losing David for those few terrible minutes, would never leave him.

They stayed wrapped up like this for a long time, long after Jasper stopped crying again and remaining in silence for the rest of the night. They could not yet fall back on the routine of talking for hours, it was just too hard to speak pleasantries and jokes like usual. Today had been so much and there was still possible heartbreak on the horizon, so they just lay together quietly. It was reminiscent of the nights waiting for the demolition to start. A lot less dread weighing on them, yes, but still so far away from the usual mood before all of this had started looming over their heads.

In the morning when the sun started to break, peeking over the horizon and filtering through trees to cast a soft glow on the ghosts, David for once stayed with him. He wasn’t taken away or turned to stone by the light of day like in the past, no longer forcibly separated from Jasper. They remained silent and watched each other for a long time until the sun was well into the sky, when they were sure David wouldn’t be taken away. And when that finally did settle in, it certainly helped ease some of the pain of yesterday, leaving them with lighter hearts, even with the question of Jasper’s remains still weighing.

At least for now, they could be together in this peace, in each other’s arms, and that was enough. Whatever happened beyond that, they would face together.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #jaspvid #ellowrites #here it is after nearly two months my eyes are wigging out #from editing on a white screen i got so used to my nice soft teal in openoffice #anyway #uh #go easy on me #i'm going to go away now

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Sister’s Secret-Merlin x Pendragon!Magic!Reader

(GIF credit to @harritudur)

Requested by @cokecola4211: ‘Merlin imagine being Arthur's younger sister and having magic and always a struggle to hide it from your brother and even Morgana.’

Characters: Merlin x Pendragon!Magic!Reader, Arthur Pendragon x Pendragon!Magic!Reader (siblings), Morgana x Pendragon!Magic!Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Violence, fighting

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t think I should attend the tournament today, I don’t feel too well.” I mumbled to Morgana, placing a hand over my stomach for effect.

“You won’t be getting out of this one (Y/N).” she sadly smiled at me, linking her arm through mine.“Be a part of the sportsmanship.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like being a princess.”

She scoffed.“Oh the horror.”

I giggled.“Not like that. I just really don’t want to go today.”

“We shall be sat together. We can talk throughout the whole thing and annoy Uther to no end.”

“Yes, my father will comment on our un-ladylike behaviour.”

“And we will watch your brother show of his amazing fighting skills, what a thrilling afternoon.”

We walked with the guards who were escorting us to the tournament, still chatting away. Morgana made me feel slightly better, though I could still feel nerves. I had tried to avoid every public event I could, though father was having none of it. I had got away with it the first few times, but then father became worried; once Gaius was called in, he knew I was faking it. I lied, putting it down to nerves now that I was coming of age to take on more responsibilities as a princess. Father had strict words with me, saying that I needed to face these head on, take a page out of Arthur’s book.

Arthur and I didn’t butt heads like he and Morgana did, though it was hard to put up with him when he got so much praise for being a prince; but I loved my brother dearly, he was a brave man.

However, I wasn’t feeling part of the family anymore. Something mysterious was happening to me, something I couldn’t control or tell anyone. I found myself controlling things without realising, items would float or be thrown across the room. It happened out of the blue, and I was extremely lucky to be by myself when I discovered what I had; magic. Why I possessed this power was unknown, and how did I have these powers when no one else in my family did? I kept this secret for months now, it had been difficult to hide at times, too many times there had been where I was almost caught. What would people think of their princess having magic? Especially since their king was so harsh on the law?

I remembered back to when I was a child, playing with Arthur and Morgana. We were stuck inside, rain pouring from the skies since the evening, and it had no sign of stopping throughout the day. Morgana and I were playing with our dolls castle, dressing up the dolls in beautiful gowns that we wished we could wear. Arthur wouldn't sit still, swinging around the wooden sword father had gifted him. He purposefully came too close to us, making us flinch and whine everytime we thought he was going to hit us.

"Arthur! Stop it or I'm going to call nanny!" I threatened, pouting my lips.

He continued his actions."You two are boring. You should play knights with me instead of those stupid dolls!"

Morgana gasped."Arthur!"

I stomped my foot."They aren't stupid!"

"Yes they are."

My fists were clenched, and I found myself storming towards him, about to shove him back, but he had already been thrown to the floor. He cried out as I halted, confused as to how he had fallen over when I hadn't even touched him.

"Princess!" Nanny had run into the room, attending to Arthur."You can't go around pushing people, especially your brother. You must remember your lessons as a lady."

"But nanny, (Y/N) didn't push him!" Morgana defended me.

"Morgana, we don't tell lies either."

"I didn't push him!" I screamed at the top of my tiny lungs, thunder and lightning violently cracking outside, causing us all to jump.

The noise silenced everyone, the light rain now coming down harsher. Nanny huffed, getting Arthur on his feet and brushing him down. Why was she ignoring me? Why didn't she believe me? Even Morgana was telling her the truth, and Morgana hardly said anything. I could feel the anger building up inside me, I felt hot, my hands were shaking; my vision was blurry, I couldn't focus on anything. As I went to step towards them, my knees buckled, but it went black before I even hit the floor. That was the last time I remembered my powers before they returned.

“Ah, (Y/N), you have decided to join us.” father smiled, though his tone held some sarcasm.

“Yes father,” I hugged him,“shouldn’t miss Arthur’s sparring after all the training he put himself through.”

“Indeed.”

Rolling my eyes at Morgana, we broke the hug, and he greeted her next. Following my father up the steps to our viewing box, the people of Camelot cheered once they spotted us, being silenced by a wave of my father's hand. He announced the beginning of the event, the knights filing out to the arena, crowds cheering once again. I clapped, smiling as I spotted Arthur; why men wanted to fight each other as a form of sport was unknown to me. Some knights I knew of were chivalrous, brave, others just used the title to boost their ego.

One of them was huge. He had darker armour on than the usual silver. He towered above the rest, his body wider in muscle. Whoever trained him had obviously wanted him to be a fighting machine. He made me nervous. Arthur was a skilled fighter, but sometimes strength overcame that.

Normally I wouldn't pay much attention throughout the whole tournament, but this new knight had my full attention. He had taken out man after man, and my brother was next to face him.

"Something doesn't feel right." I mumbled to Morgana.

She nodded."He's taken out every knight. Most of them have had to be carried off the field. Why isn't anyone stopping this?"

"Pride." I turned my head to my father."Surely we should stop this? Arthur is going to get hurt."

My father's expression did not change, masking his true feelings."I cannot pull Arthur out of the tournament, how would that look to the other Lords and knights attending?"

"But he's your son! You would rather keep your pride than to save him from getting hurt?"

"We both know that even if I wanted to stop him, he would still go in and fight."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair."Like father like son."

Anticipation grew as the men readied themselves for the final battle. The opponent walked out first, receiving some praise, whereas once Arthur appeared, the roars were so loud, they could probably be heard in the next kingdom. Although I tried to keep my composure as I clapped for him, I found my eyes never tearing away from his form, praying that no harm would come to him. It all seemed to happen too quickly. They began their fight, clashes of swords and shields ringing out as the people yelled, supporting their future King. My heart thumped in my chest, hands clutching to my chair, all of my muscles tensing. Out of the blue, Arthur was pushed to the floor, images of us as children flashed into my mind.

Everyone gasped, whereas I heard the splintering of wood. Looking down at my left hand, I realised that I had broken the arm of the chair. No, not now, not in front of all these people; not this close to my family.

Arthur was on his back crawling away from his opponent. I was on the edge of my seat as the sword was raised, all of sudden striking down on Arthur. Luckily, he swiftly rolled out of the way, stumbling to his feet. However, as Arthur quickly picked up his sword to fight again, we were all entranced by his fighters weapon. It was stuck in the ground, but as he grabbed it again, it snapped in half. Arthur took this opportunity of surprise to attack, taking him down. As chivalrous as ever, Arthur showed mercy. But I couldn't stay here any longer, I felt an overwhelming surge of energy in me, and if I didn't get away soon, I didn't know how much I could hide.

Leaping from my chair, I hurried away, ignoring the calls of my father and Morgana. The guards were quick to follow, though once away from the arena and near the castle, I commanded they leave me alone. There were plenty of places to hide in the castle, I just needed to find somewhere quick. As I ran down the halls, my breathing was erratic, vision blurry once again. I stumbled into a wall, crumbling the stone with just my hand. I stopped, leaning beside it before sinking to the floor. How could I feel tired, yet harness all this power? My hands started to shake, there was nothing to stop it; shutting my eyes, I focused all of my mind on my hands, willing this all to stop. It had to stop. Someone would come by soon, someone would see what I had done, then they would tell my father, and he would have no choice but to send me to the-

"Princess?" Merlin's voice scared me.

My eyes shot open, gasping as I saw him kneeling in front of me.

"What are you doing on the floor? Are you hurt?"

I furiously shook my head, wanting to get up though I couldn't find the strength. His eyes glanced down at my shaking hands, slowly taking them in his.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped."Please don't, just leave me!"

"Your highness," his voice was a whisper now, "I need you to trust me."

All I could do was watch as he held my hands firmer, staring at them. A cooling sensation flooded my skin, the intense energy I was feeling dying down. Shakily breathing, I caught his eyes flash to a gorgeous golden, amber colour. No, he couldn't be. My brother's manservant possessed magic?!

"Come to the infirmiry with me, we have much to speak about." he quietly said, helping me to my feet.

Willingly following him, he sat me down at the table in Gaius' chambers, kneeling in front of me. If I wasn't confused before, I certainly was now, a headache forming.

"You've had these powers for a while now, haven't you?" he calmly asked.

"Merlin, I-"

"You can trust me. You've just seen what I can do."

"Yes. But they've only just come back. I don't understand why."

"Magic has its own rules, unfortunately for some."

"Merlin, why are you working in the castle when you could easily be spotted? Someone could report you!"

Realisation flashed over his face."Y-you aren't going to say anything, are you?"

"Of course not! What sort of hypocrite would I be if I told of your powers when I possess my own? Though...looking back on my father's tales of how evil magic is, it just confuses me."

"Not all magic is bad. There is good that lies behind it, as long as it's in the right hands."

"But why me?"

"Why anyone?"

"You are starting to sound like Gaius more and more."

We both smiled."Was it you that broke the wall?"

"Yes. I broke the chair back in the arena too."

"You need to learn to harness your power."

"You could teach me!"

"W-well-"

"Merlin, how am I, the princess of Camelot, supposed to hide something like this without training?"

"When would I do that? You've seen how Arthur works me to death."

"Hm, my brother is a dollop head about that sort of thing."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at me, chuckling.

"I've heard you call him that, I like it."

We laughed until the door opening interrupted. My father stormed in, Gaius and Arthur close behind.

"What happened?" Father exclaimed.

"Merlin, you left me to take off my own armour!" Arthur seethed.

Merlin stumbled with his words, standing up as he tried to come up with a lie.

"I told you earlier that I shouldn't have come today. Just seeing Arthur almost get hurt sent me over the edge." I sighed."I'm sorry that I ran off like that, but I didn't want to draw away any attention from your victory Arthur. And Merlin was the one who found me."

Arthur smiled."Your health is far more important than any victory of mine."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before." Father started."Gaius, give her a full examination. Make sure she is alright. I shall stay with you."

"No father, you should go to the Lords and knights, it will be improper to keep them waiting."

"If you are sure."

"Of course. You will be the first to know if anything ails me."

He kissed my forehead before leaving with Arthur. Arthur squeezed my hand, following Father. My tense shoulders relaxed as they closed the door, looking to Merlin and Gaius.

"Your highness, what hap-"

"She has magic Gaius." Merlin interrupted.

"Merlin!" I snapped.

"It's alright, he knows."

"Oh, Merlin." Gaius sighed."You do seem to attract trouble, don't you?"

I pouted."Are you stating that I am trouble?"

"Apologies your highness. I am assuming Merlin has offered his help already?"

"Well, I sort of asked him myself."

"You do realise how dangerous this is, don't you your highness?"

"Yes. But I have no other choice."

"Gaius, I can help her. I have too." Merlin said.

"Well, I don't think I can really stop either of you, can I?"

We both shook our heads.

"We will do all we can to help you princess, just know, that it won't be an easy journey. You are bordering on treason of your kingdom."

"I understand. I will do anything to control this power. And who knows, maybe in the future, I will be able to convince my father that not all magic is evil."

#merlin #merlin imagine #merlin imagines #merlin one shot #merlin x reader #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon imagine #morgana #morgana imagine

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yarti · 4 years

Photo

[ Fanar ] - [The Carriage of Life ]

Click anywhere for Imgur link with full set and captions.

Story Below:

"Three days yet by foot. We probably should have taken a carriage. This road is a fair bit less scenic than most we've put behind us."

I took a puff from my pipe, eyes set far out into the fields for even in that vastness, I knew precisely where to look.

"Unless horse and carriage were to leap out from behind a boulder, we'd best grow accustomed to walking."

Gili strode ahead of me, darting behind a roadside stone. "It could happen. A carriage, that is. It could? Could it not? More perplexing things have happened." She yelled, skipping to the next largest rock and peering behind it. "No horse here!"

It had became something of a game. A way to pass the time on such a walk. We had long-since exhausted the easy conversations. "Things that were and those yet to be." We had discussed those at-length. We neared Blackmore, but would not stray that far south just yet. Our path was to be a more direct one. The lights of Whiterun could be seen on the horizon on those darker nights. As fireflies over distant fields, signs above, ever honest, or the freckles on her then wind-whipped cheeks. It was just a matter of closing the distance.

The day we left town, Gili took it upon herself to part with some of her hair. I offered to trim it for her, but she is as thickheaded as ever. With one wrong snip of her scissors, half of her hair was gone in an instant. What remained hung off to one side, nearly covering an eye. Distracting at times, I'm certain, but it fit her. This style was something of a rebellious look. Not quite the image she had wished to project. She often worried that Mother and Father would disapprove of her in one way or another, her new hairstyle being another worry to add to the list. Each day brought about another worry. At times I wondered if I should have kept our destination a secret. We had discussed it earlier that morning in fact. "They are good folk, as good as they come. Once they see that you are likewise good company, they will welcome you with open arms. Father will be easy to win over, just be yourself. He is a man of Mara, a family man despite his work. You will see a great deal of me in him. Mother will be difficult. We can only hope that she will be too busy with Fiolette to give you much ire. Though, if she were to turn her wrath on you, I could do little to help. Especially if Fannah has visited or been in touch lately. Fannah thinks you to be a witch. That you've bewitched me and that this journey is some complex nefarious plot." I let out a hearty chuckle then shut my eyes as warm memories flowed over me. "They certainly have a..." I stopped myself to have another draw of the elves ears. "Most peculiar view of women." I burst out, half between a cough and a laugh. Far from a new topic, this. She knew to expect interrogation, harsh words, perhaps harsher looks. But I assured her, she would warm up to her. She had my word on that.

Boredom begat boredom, the long road tiring and draining. Sore soles and pained souls, with every step, I felt my tone grew more annoyed and hers more desperate for stimulation. She never stops talking. At times, quiet can do a man good. I can see why Father would set aside time for mead or the lake. Idle-chatter and stress do not play well with budding relationships. Rather than have one of us eventually lose our temper, I elected that we surrender to the road. A serious campsite would be fine medicine. We set up camp at the nearest opportunity, a Nordic ruin, or what was left of one. No interior to speak of but flat stone floors would do plenty. The following two days were spent in camp. We found much time to mend body and soul, and time aside to write. It was good to put quill to paper and get some of this off of my chest. The result became a letter to Fannah. As much distaste as I may seem to have for Gili on paper, in truth, I do love her. Most dearly. I would have her no other way.

The next night, we were beset upon by the most terrible of storms. The heavens would glow like the broad of day for but a moment, then crash into blackest night. I feared the wind might carry Gili away if not for the urgency with which her fingers dug into my cloak and about my arm. She looked to my grimacing face as the sharp beads pelted my jaw and brow, hair drenched and dripping beneath a hood long darkened by the downpour. She would find no solace there, so my cloak and embrace would have to suffice. My hood did little more than dull the wet arrows as they came swift and many from all directions. The road was likened to a warzone with us in the crossfire.

The flashes of lightning silhouetted a high house, a manor just off the road. These were empty lands, naught more than fields barren and unkempt road. A house was a welcome sight, be it owned or abandoned. I envisioned a porch or awning above the doorway, the mere thought of it made me smile. If it were abandoned, we would make it our own until the storm passed. Lay out a bedroll and enjoy our time while the world above poured itself dry. If it were owned by unsavory folk, even the briefest respite under an awning would have done well to soothe our troubles. Best yet, I envisioned us met with the open arms of some kind strangers, an elderly couple. An old Nord lady, clutching at her shawl, lurching around the barely-opened door, extending a rusted lantern to illuminate our downtrodden faces. The relief on those faces as she welcomed us inside to warm ourselves by the fire and partake of a meal far past dinner-time. At the dinner table we would meet her husband, a Dunmer noble, a face untouched by his years but obviously of similar age to his mate. The table was long with many chairs. They would regale us of their sire, little ones come and gone and of their adventures in places and ages long since passed. Gili and I would sit together, my arm across her shoulder, listening to their tales until the coming morn. I shook myself from my thoughts, only to find Gili peaking at me from beneath her hood. She nodded, acknowledging my daydreaming or nightdreaming as it were and nestled against my chest. Knowing her as I do, we likely shared that dream. The amulet of Mara around her neck jingled loudly as we quickened our pace.

In an hour's time, we came upon the once-majestic outline of our shelter to-be. Rotted and disheveled, a shade of what it may once have been. I cleared my throat and stepped up to the door, a hand curling into a loose fist. It rose then fell upon the door softly as Gili brought about some light. Far too soft, given the intensity of the storm. "Louder." She urged with her palm on my back. My fist rose again, this time coming down much harder. The door boomed and splintered, echoing through what lay beyond it.

"Hello?" I called out. "I know it is dreadfully late, but this storm. It came out of nowhere and nearly blew us away." Gili added, with hardened voice.

Aside from the storm and our sighs, we were met with silence. Again, harder still, a fist met the door. With that, the bolt gave way, allowing the door to roll open. It squealed on hinges long since oiled as a cloud of dust struck our faces. Inside, a long dark abyss.

"Is there anyone inside?"

No reply. Wind howled through the doorway, slicing at our exposed faces and hands. The house snored like a long-slumbered beast. "We're coming inside." Once inside, we tried to fasten the door behind us but the lock had crumbled from the impact. Gili held it shut by light of palm then inched a small table in front of it to keep the storm out.

"Well, either our hosts are sound sleepers, or the house is to be ours." she mumbled, following me into the unknown.

Hastily, we cleared each room, settling into a comfortable bedroom once all was deemed safe. A fireplace, some wine. There will of course be no written record of our private time, it was intended to be ours and ours alone but someone felt otherwise. In the midst of it all, a peculiar sound caught my long ears. I grew still, listening. Eyes scouting the room between hush breaths. On the other side of the door, boards bowed under the strain of someone or something. I rose and eased my way over, wrapping a sheet around my bareness. Taking sword, my crimson eyes seared through the slit of the door, scanning low to high. Without moment's notice, I drove the sword through the door to it's hilt. A curdled cry, like that of a dying animal, it shrieked then bolted down the hall. The sword groaned sickly as I pulled it from it's splintered sheathe, blackened blood clinging to the edge. "Vampire", I whispered, taking Gili by the hand. We burst through the door, sliding to a stop in the slickness behind it.

The path of upturned tables and clutter lead through halls we had already cleared, with a blood trail ending at the opening to a once-lit room. The monster had snuffed out the candles. I pointed to a candle, my voice but a notion in the air. "Berne." In the mists and moonlight beaming through those stained glass windows, we could make out a figure just head and above and to our right, a shuffling high along the cathedral wall. The hiss of a beast on the attack. Before Gili could turn toward the sound, I had already smote it with fire. A cloaked figure howled and fell to the floor, writhing as another stirred at our backs. I spun, giving it unto the flames likewise. As they passed, the hall fell silent but for the pains of the now lone figure.

"I apologize for your comrades, but I know what you are. Berne. By holding to the shadows, they left me no choice. I could not risk it. But you. You may have intruded on our intimacies, but you have yet made no move. Am I assume that you are to be civil? " I lowered my sword and quelled the warmth in my palm.

The monster fidgeted just out of the light but said naught. It turned to face us slowly. A flowing dark robe, a thin and tall man. Beneath his hood, two hot coals surrounded by pitch black paint. Paint flowed like waterfalls from his eye sockets, down his cheeks and out from his mouth like bile. Where paint lied not, his skin was as old milk, leaning toward the green hue of decay, he clutched at his wound and stared on. Black lips firmly shut.

Gili brushed past me. "Is this your home? You have surely heard this storm and I pray that you had not the misfortune of being caught out in it. We came inside to take shelter from it, not to disturb you and your ilk."

Putting myself between her and the Berne, I began again.

"Regardless, I am in no mood to fight further." I sighed, leaning against a nearby pew.

"Must you feed or perish tonight? Look to your clan." I gestured toward those that still sizzled in the dark.

"Can there be no third option? What if we come to an agreement. You let us be, we let you be. Tend to your wound, perhaps speak with us, if you are capable. I have need of information and perhaps you have what I seek. Come morn, we part ways. I ask only that you remember the mercy we would give you, and to give it in return in the future. Seek cure for that which ails you. It is an offer few would extend." In the soft moonglow, a smile raced across my cheeks, eyes shut to envision the words.

"I see a future in which we may again cross paths. A bright summer day. I with my wife, children in tow. I introduce you to little ones as an acquaintance from some near-forgotten night. Friends. Living Man and living Mer sharing a handshake, with warm palms under warm skies. This life will be but a nightmare eagerly forgotten. This could very-well be. Can you see it so clearly as I?"

"Thank you", the cloaked figure groaned.

"Ah, I feared you too far gone for speech. Honor my words, friend. Tell me, what brings three Berne to Skyrim?"

The monster trudged over to one of his fallen companions, kneeling before it as he spoke. His voice was deep, Cyrodyllic, with the accent of native Dunmer. It was obvious that he had not spoken in common tongue for quite some time. Centuries perhaps.

"There is no place for ours in Morrowind. Others make public their takings and if they find one of us, we are taken as well. Blame falls on ours. Every street, every home, every eye seeks ours. Suspicious," he hissed the word. "Suspicious glances and suspicious thoughts. We were chased from our homes and now we go hungry." The word "hungry" trailed off, the depths from which he pulled the word gave truth to it.

"And why so far west, if I may?"

"They are here too. It is hard to seek prey as prey."

"Yours have been growing in number as of late. I came across a band of Aundae some weeks ago. In Solitude itself no less. A regrettable meeting. A couple, I assumed. I slew them, then laid them together under Mara. I thought it the right thing to do." Pausing, I peered down to my feet in condolence.

"Regrettable" the Berne whispered, turning his attention to the other comrade.

"Who are these others?" I chimed in.

"They are as us, but not of us. They are like..." He paused, seemingly searching for the proper term. "Dwemeri, but in our skin. Brass bones."

"We came across one of those. You speak true, friend." I hesitated, unsure how much I should share with a stranger. Grandfather was always careful to speak of him, as though mere mention could bring him back.

"I thought them to be of Assut, or rather, leftovers of his plights. Perhaps imitations of it? Mingling Dwemeri machinations with illusion was his craft. Though that all ended some time ago as far as I know. My grandfather had many a dealing with him. Do you know the name?"

The thing fell hush, pondering deeply.

"No."

Not of Assut. An imitator then. Certainly Grandfather will know more. Knowing him, I doubt he has sat idle these long years. If Assut still lives, I can be certain that he knows his whereabouts by now. My thoughts turned to the owners of this manor.

"Did you kill the owners of this fine house or were you likewise uninvited guests?"

"I do not kill. I feed on cattle, not kill. I have not killed since before. Before this life." He gestured to his still-bleeding chest as he spoke. "My brothers, they found this place and sent for the rest. We were to stay here. They may have killed the owners. I do not know. They cannot speak as I."

"Could not, speak as I." The Berne corrected himself.

The conversation slowed to a crawl. The three of us sat in near-silence, Gili traced her fingers through my hair as she often does, coming to rest upon my chiseled brow. At once her fingers stopped, suspicious. "Is something the matter?"

She fired off with one of her spur of the moment questions. "Do Dunmer men always have such a brow? Or is it because of your father? Not the ridge, yours is not too noticeable. But the sheer size of it. You have a massive forehead. Muscular, bulbous even. I have not had many dealing with your kind, much less had them at my fingertips. So I am genuinely curious." As the words left her mouth, she recoiled. I suppose she thought I would be offended by her choice of words, though no harm was done. I was well accustomed and enamored by to her to-the-point word choice.

"Hmm."

I drew long of mind, eyes shut, lost to all but myself. The good, the bad. I swam through the waters of my life in search of a related story. Finding the words, I spoke loudly enough that our guest could hear.

"In days long past, as golden days lay at my back heel and new horizons at my toes. As twins grew into their own. Near-mirrored forms twisted by the peculiarities of this world The fairer side of the coin, my sister, she grew into her beauties, elegant and graceful as the night. But I? I tumbled awkwardly into lanky ruggedness. Adulthood is rough on Dunmer men. As children, we are much alike in face and form. Our brows are light, though heavier than you would see on a Nord child, certainly. But as boys become men, our features diverge so heavily. The blood of my Father and Grandfather made my awkward years a bit more awkward in comparison, I am sure, as I so swiftly grew muscular and bold featured. Forested, top to bottom. The body of a true Nord. I shed my childhood like a cocoon. Sparring had left me lean but toned. My face long, chin and brow more prominent. The jaws and nose of my Father, as though you had molded the likeness by hand."

Her question answered, I saw fit to stop there, but my thoughts would not yield.

"We had lived a sheltered life, Fannah and I. Though we had traveled with our parents on many occasions and received an education fit for kings or queens, we were kept well out of danger. Blind to the more interesting parts of the world. Now for an ordinary Dunmer, he might be content to stay at home, enjoy childhood until it's true end, until work, love, or power finds him and whisks him away. But a Dunmer with Nord blood burning strong in his veins, it was not for me. I left home at twelve or perhaps thirteen. At first, visits were quite common. I would spend more time at home than on the road, but over time, I came to crave that road. Every second spent idle felt as though I was wasting away. In those days the bulk of my journeys lead to simple odd jobs, being of use in whatever way that I could. Be that farm work, errands, courier work, or things even more mundane. Then, as now, I rarely take pay unless forced upon me. A warm meal and place to sleep for the night, those are just rewards. A man's coin is his own, I will not deprive him of it. One thing lead to another and I became something of a local monster hunter. Not a full fledged mercenary or bountyman by any means, but I felled many a troll or intruding sabrecat. I knew of my fathers trade and saw that as my likely conclusion, my path was his. This was in the budding days of Fannah's devotion of Mara. She would often accompany me and could more than hold her own as well. The benefits of being a Snakestone did not fall to me alone. She is every bit as capable as I, just in a smaller, feistier package."

My grin slowly crumbled away, leaving a solemn frown.

"By sixteen, I had killed my first man. A Bosmer bandit. I did not take it well. At times I wake to the sounds of the battle, some seven or eight years later. For a time, I carried his hammer with me. It felt right. When my sword heft him nearly in twain, there was no thought of justice, no thought of success. I felt as though I had failed him. There should always be another option. I grieved for him. For a family he could have had or left behind, for a life he could have had if he had been on a different path. I should not have been the one to give finality to his situation. I found tht in all aspects of life, there is a lesson to be learned. If I need kill, I had best take something from it. Let that life not go in waste. If I was more persuasive, perhaps I could have talked him down. Made him atone for his ill deeds, face prison and come out a better man. I am no perfect man, nor would I ever claim to be, but I am aware of my deeds and their consequences. The what-ifs. He was the first, but he was not the last. I have tried to do things the right way but still, there is a line of ghosts at my back. Two more added this very night. They are with me. But this is not the story for today."

With the final word, I settled back against Gili's bosom and began the actual tale.

"I see myself in Dawnstar, as a painting behind my eyes. Fall of the same year I believe. Near sunset, I sought refuge from a dreadful storm. With the passing of this great storm, a beast rose from the northern waters and slowly crept upshore. A Grahl. Washed up from the northern lands I presumed. Be in in search of food or new territory, it had chosen a poor path. Cries from the shore had shaken me from a daydream. I stepped outside just in time to see the haggard form pierce the waves. It stood five men tall with tusks like spears, no, like masts. From matted white hair dripped ocean brine and foam, and from his three-clawed hands came death for any that may cross him. The fishermen fled and lawmen shuffled about in fear. With little hesitation, I darted up the hill and stared down at it. Palms aglow, I loosed a single fireball. The impact knocked him clear off of his feet and with a mighty splash he fell back-first into the tide. As he rose, angered but unharmed, his claws gave chase. Slicing the sand as my sword so did to his flesh. At the end of my lunge, the blade carved out a chunk of his thumb. It cut true and he bled into the foam. On scurrying feet I rounded his back, leaping as I lobbed another fireball at his feet. He roared and looked down at me as though I were an ant to be crushed. A bellowing cry shook the shoreline but I had no fear. He moved clumsily through the soft clay just off shore, his weight was too much for it I imagined. Seeing this, I fled into the waves myself, with a steady stream of flames ensuring that he would give chase. And so he did, and in doing so, lodged himself in the soft clay. Dodging a blow, I took hold of his gnarled fingers and hoisted myself atop them. Darting from muscle to muscle, gripping his white fur to steady myself, I moved ever higher. Until I could see a many-veined neck beneath that dripping beard. With each beat of his gargantuan heart, his neck pulsated. I had found my target. I drove the sword into the hump of his back, sending him reeling. His hulking mass fell back, exposing his engorged neck. At once I leapt from atop his back, mind racing, my perception of time came to a halt. I recall my breath, the beat of my heart dwarfed by the beat of his. The crash of waves. I found footing atop his breast and with precision, made my cut. With a torrent of blue blood, he tumbled into the mud, throwing me clear onto the shoreline. There was no cheering crowd, no boons, no feeling of greatness. I stood just off to the side, warming my hands by magick as blue blood trickled down my brow and fell from my hair. Wiping it away, I think this was the first time that I took notice of how my face had changed. This is the moment that had wormed it's way into my mind. I looked into that pearly water. Peering deep and long into my reflection, taking note of my features. As my face had grown long, forehead bulbous, the eyes were the same. In my eyes, I was the same boy that once cowered from levitating rats or mudcrabs. Now a man, felling mountains in the name of greater good. I again felt great regret in what I had done. The world is without one Grahl, and in it's place, perhaps tens of people are yet still living. Most would consider that a worthwhile trade. But the world is still without that Grahl. It continues on giving it not a thought. As it is to continue on without these two." I gestured to the fallen Berne. "As it would continue on without you." An ashen finger darted toward our guest. "As it would continue on without I, or mine. Not every life lost is taken, but in situations like these, it falls upon each of us to decide who stays on this carriage and who shall disembark early.

"If I had been more knowledgeable of Grahl back then, perhaps I could have lead it away. They have their likes or dislikes as do we all. For every beast there is a working lure. And by all of the gods above, he is a heavy beast. Now that you've been introduced to him, perhaps the both of you could help me carry him?

My tale finished, I searched his hooded face for a sign that I had struck a cord, though found none. We spent the better part of the next hour diving from one subject to another. It was pleasant conversation, considering the guest. Shortly before morning, we retreated to our room to reconvene and find some rest before the long road. With sunrise, we found the house empty. Our acquaintance had fled, taken his fallen with him, and held true to his word.

"May he find his way."

I was quiet the next few days. Lost in thought as is to be expected of me. Gili probed for answers and feelings but received little reply. I felt sorry for her, to see her try so hard, only to be met by this wall. I found peace in my pipe, mind and in our closeness, as one-sided as it were. Quiet days make for boring days and no amount of endless chatter on her part could sway the mood. Before long, roadside rocks again became the center of attention.

To our left, she spotted a large boulder. "The game continues", she mouthed the words. With amber eye glued to the far edge of it as we made our way past, the sudden neigh of the horse startled her. Behind the stone sat a horse and carriage, as though she had willed them into existence. "Oh ello there." A voice beckoned from its backside. A little man stepped into view and tossed an overflowing sack of mushrooms into the back. "I never thought to bump into anybody else out here. Where ya heading?"

With rested feet, the following day passed quickly and as I put this quill to paper, the family homestead has came into view. As majestic a sight as ever. We near the end of this ride, with another to soon begin. My thoughts collected, I opened up. With but minutes left on the road, I gave Gili a brief lesson on the varieties of vampire and how best to deal with each. How one could likely discern the clan within seconds as they all behave differently. I spoke more of my Grandfather and of Assut. Of stories that Grandfather had told Fannah and I, and of where and how we met him. How as a boy, my extended family was scattered across Skryim and Morrowind. How under the grace of Mara, acquaintances from long forgotten days were rejoined in the end. Of the paths that brought us together, and of our long journey home.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #fanar #gili #snakestone_family #dunmer #nord #waifu #husbando #otp #couple #love #romance #story #writing #adventure #vampire #combat #storytime #modding

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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Like Father, Like Son

Author’s Note: Hi all, this is a rewrite, with permission, of FanFiction user AwarenessBringer’s story, A Different Partner. I found it to be an interesting take, so I hope you all enjoy it as well. :3

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Rangiku Matsumoto, Ichigo Kurosaki

Requested By: Awareness Bringer (FanFiction)

The cold night breeze ruffled the loose fabric of Rangiku’s death-black robes as she stood perched on the peak of a tall utility pole that cut through the charming but sprawling mass of Karakura Town. Though the diameter of the wound wooden structure was only a few inches or so, she balanced perfectly atop it, scanning the labyrinthine array of neighborhoods and business districts with hawk-like eyes. If one could see her, she wondered if they would mistake her for an assassin searching for her kill, or figure her a stoic sentry guarding over the sleepy little town by the river. Regardless, it did not matter, for no one could see Rangiku; she was a ghost, a specter, an invisible god of death. Rangiku did not come to this unassuming town for either purpose. She had come to find a man long missing- Isshin Shiba, her former superior in the parallel world, the Soul Society.

Isshin’s reasons for spiriting away to the world of the living had never been divulged to Rangiku. One day, he had just never returned, leaving the young, impressionable honey-haired girl to wonder of his absence. Rangiku could not imagine his motives for doing so. Being a captain of the Soul Reapers was but the highest honor, and yet he had seemingly tossed it aside on a whim. Rangiku had been searching for him for the longest time and had finally caught whispers of his residence in Karakura Town. She had never regularly patrolled here, but if she had, she would’ve known in an instant. As soon as she had traversed the gap between her world and this one, his massive spiritual energy had greeted her like an old friend, overwhelmingly strong but nevertheless gentle and embracing. Blue eyes narrowing slightly, she crouched down on the pole once she had homed in on the source of the emanating spiritual energy.

Isshin… Why did you leave without saying good-bye?

With a single bounding leap, Rangiku shot into the sky. Her light, unseen form landed softly in the grassy yard of a quaint medical clinic. Rangiku’s eyebrows crept up her head at the thought of the irresponsible and free-spirited Isshin handling the responsibilities of being a physician. It seemed the clinic also doubled as a residence, given by its layout and the soft yellow light burning in the windows. Rangiku’s sandals scraped against the asphalt driveway as she approached the dwelling, peering through one of the windows to see a tastefully decorated living room. No one was currently there, prompting her to phase through the wall to step into the room. Curious as to how the man was now living, she poked around the room a bit, stopping by an end table when a photograph seated there caught her eye. She put her hands and leaned over to inspect it.

In the photograph was unmistakably Isshin, with a big, beaming grin and that thick dark hair and beard that always suited him so well. Seated beside him was a beautiful young woman with soft, motherly eyes and wavy caramel hair. Seated on her lap was a little boy with a shock of unnaturally orange hair, while Isshin was holding two baby girls, one who favored her mother and one who favored her father, in his big, muscular arms. Rangiku smiled forlornly as she brushed her fingers over the smooth glass of the photograph.

“I see… So you fell in love.” Rangiku’s bittersweet mood was instantly overtaken by the cold rush of adrenaline as hostile intent invaded the small space, and she was only just able to throw up her arm to block the savage kick that was about to be delivered to the side of her head. The force still sent her sliding several feet across the wooden floor of the building, and her forearm stung numbly at the area where the sole of a shoe was imprinted in dust into the fabric of her clothes. She lowered it slightly to see that same orange-haired boy, only a tall, scowling teenager now with his long leg still hoisted up from where he had kicked her.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my living room?” he shouted with an accusing point of his finger. Now that the initial shock had worn off, the gears started whirling wildly in Rangiku’s head. She was in her spirit form; there was no way that this boy could see her, let alone kick her! Yet, his ferocious glare was directed at her and her alone. Could it be possible that he somehow inherited some of Isshin’s monstrous spiritual energy? Sure enough, if she concentrated, she found that the amount contained in that lithe frame of his was much greater than a normal human’s. With a lofty sigh, Rangiku brushed the dusty imprint from her arm.

“So, you see ghosts, I take it? That has to be a right pain in the ass, I imagine.”

“You damn right, and it’s an even bigger pain in my ass when they invade the sanctity of my own home to beg me to sort out their unfinished business!” the boy groused hotly. It seemed he had realized that she was a spirit of some sort, so he lowered his foot to the floor. “Whatchu want, lady? Can’t it wait until after dinner?”

“Who’s Ichigo talking to in there?” chimed a sing-song girl’s voice from what Rangiku surmised was the kitchen.

“He’s probably being bugged by some ghost again. Let him handle it,” came another girl’s voice, more monotone and grumpier than the other’s. Ah, so those must be Isshin’s daughters…

“I’m here to see your father, actually, Isshin Kurosaki. Can you bring him in here to speak to me?” Rangiku had learned pretty much all she needed to know, but there was no way she was leaving without speaking to him a little. The boy frowned in befuddlement at her as he dug into one of his ears with his pinky finger. He reminds me a lot of Isshin…

“My old man can’t see ghosts.” This made Rangiku’s eyes take on the form of dinner saucers. Had something occurred to rob Isshin of his spiritual powers? She had been sure that she had felt his spiritual energy… Rangiku momentarily wondered if it had been the boy- Ichigo’s- spiritual energy instead, but surely that could not be possible; a human simply couldn’t contain enough spiritual energy to rival a Soul Reaper’s, especially not a high-ranking officer’s! Rangiku considered leaving for a moment, but luck was on her side; with a deranged howl, the man she had come to Karakura Town to see came flying through the entryway, poised to drop-kick Ichigo in the back of the head. With an angry shout, the boy just narrowly ducked, and Isshin flew the rest of the way across the living room to bury himself calf-deep into the drywall. He hung there awkwardly for a moment while Rangiku gawked in utter disbelief. Who the hell tried to casually drop-kick their son?! “You crazy old man!” Ichigo shouted from where he was crouched shielding his skull. “You’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?!”

“Well, who else is gonna keep you one your toes?” the man laughed good-naturedly while extracted his leg from the large, gaping hole he had just put into the wall. He sighed lightly as he began brushing sheetrock dust from his pressed slacks.

“Who says I need to be kept on my toes?! And who the hell is gonna fix that hole in the wall, ‘cuz it sure ain’t gonna be me!” Ichigo continued yelling as he straightened up and crossed his arms in a downright furious glare. His eyes flashed to the shell-shocked Rangiku before returning to his dumbass of a father. “Oh, by the way, there’s a lady ghost here to see you. She’s a blonde, dressed funny in this black robe thing, got a katana hangin’ at her waist.”

“Hey!” Rangiku cried indignantly at his less-than-flattering depiction of her. The boy just shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh?” Isshin asked and looked at the area where he surmised Rangiku was standing, but it was so spot-on that for a moment, she couldn’t believe that he couldn’t see her at all. He looked back at his son with a positively devilish grin and said no words, only juggled his hands in a gesture that very obviously commented on her gracious endowments. Ichigo turned a bright shade of pink and began yelling at him again, while Rangiku wished dearly that she could clock him into next week.

“I can’t hit him, so do it for me, will you?” she requested grumpily of his flustered and mortified teenage son while rubbing her temples.

It wasn’t like she could spill everything about Soul Reapers and the Soul Society to the young human boy, so she explained just enough for his own curiosity to be satisfied. It was quite obvious that Isshin did not wish for his son to know about his former Soul Reaper status, so Rangiku lied, stating that she had known him in human life and she was simply here to see how he was doing. With Ichigo serving as her interpreter, she conversed amiably with Isshin. Ultimately, she was content with his current state of being. He seemed genuinely happy and loved his family very much. His happiness was plenty enough for Rangiku.

She was about to bid adieu to the young man and his father when her Hollow tracker suddenly began beeping alarmingly in her pocket. When she whipped it out to find it quite on top of them, she hadn’t even the time to warn Isshin or Ichigo before the living room wall exploded into splinters. Isshin scrambled to protect his terrified and screaming little girls while Ichigo bowled over the couch, knocking it over and landing roughly to just narrowly avoid the creature’s sharp claws as they tried to rip his bowels open. Rangiku whipped out her sword and managed to take the fight with the Hollow outside, but she very soon became unmatched. Lying in the street with blood gushing from an open wound in her abdomen, she groaned and crawled towards the wrecked house as the Hollow sought to devour Ichigo’s monstrous spiritual energy. The orange-haired boy came crashing out of a bedroom window into the street, panting wildly and running over to Rangiku.

“What the hell are you gonna do now?!” he hissed as he helped the weak, bleeding woman to her knees. “Get up and fight, or my family is gonna die! I don’t have the power to fight that thing!” Rangiku’s eyes were heavy and lidded as she struggled to remain conscious.

“I can’t,” she moaned as she pressed a hand into her wound. Hot, sticky blood gushed through the gaps of her fingers to paint her hand in the crimson substance. Her blue eyes flickered to Ichigo. “I’ll loan you my powers, just long enough for you to take out that monster! There’s no time to think; either you will or you won’t!” Ichigo swallowed thickly, staring at her with wide eyes, before nodding firmly.

“Your name, first.”

“Hehe. It’s Rangiku Matsumoto.”

Things didn’t go according to plan. His spiritual energy was far higher than anything she could have imagined, so he ended up stealing all her powers right then and there. They would return, with time, but there was no way that Rangiku could return to the Soul Society in such a state. Thus, she was forced to remain in the human world for the time being. It wasn’t all bad; since Ichigo had her powers now, she was all but forced to train him to be a Soul Reaper, but he really had a knack for it. In addition, she transferred to his high school and was gushed over by all the cute little high school boys (much to Ichigo’s chagrin).

Still, despite everything, Rangiku really liked having Ichigo as a partner, even if only temporary. It reminded her very much of her hayday with his father, who was so like him but so different in many ways.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #isshin kurosaki #rangiku matsumoto #general fluff #au #alternate universe #non-canon compliant #fluff #bleach fanfiction #bleach fanfic #friendship

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mardi-nah · 6 years

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Draganonos

Dragons, royalty, fantasy, commoner narrator, medieval setting

Moreland Upwood did not join the flock of admirers flapping their tongues and hands at Prince Tattle and his quivering egg.

Firstly, despite the excited cheers and congratulations being heaped on the stars of the evening, the egg had been slowly spiderwebbing cracks and trembling like it was about to burst for a week, now. The cracks hadn’t even passed to the other half of the shell, yet, so it was highly unlikely it would burst open today, and certainly not in the next few minutes. Secondly, Moreland wasn’t one to fling useless compliments; and what was worse and third, he especially did not hand out compliments just because Tate wanted him to.

The crowned prince was currently beaming at his adoring fans, chest puffed out with ridiculous pride, face a happy pink. If it wouldn’t have been an act of gross insubordination (and sure to hurt the other’s feelings), Moreland would have rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, the King did not allow private gatherings in the draconic stables, so they had carefully relocated the egg into the palace gardens, placed on a stand with a cushion and glass encasing. Though the prince and crowd were obviously a little mulish, Moreland couldn’t say he shared the sentiment. The stables were stifling from the draggos’ overwhelming body heat and breath, and he was still uncomfortable in their presence, being common himself. A pacifist could never hope to establish positive relations with draggos.

Tattle, on the other hand, was noble and trained warrior, skilled hunter and pretty-faced. All things that draggos and peasants alike loved dearly.

“Ah, look!” A young girl with blond coils of hair wrapped in loose rose silk exclaimed, pointing at the glass encasing. “It’s pushing apart the shell!”

It was indeed, surprisingly enough. A sizable chunk of eggshell had splintered off from the whole, leaving transparent, goopy membrane and past that, a small blue eye staring out.

The group cried out as one, swooping on it like a flock of vultures at a carcass. Prince Tattle immediately intervened, pushing some of the people back with a regal warning, but his words were cut off by the high, keening wail of the infantile draggo.

Scared by all the noise, probably, Moreland thought to himself, frowning severely and glowering at the people’s backs.

“Enough.” Prince Tattle’s voice cut through again, sharp as a blade’s edge. “All of you, get back. Give him space.”

“I shall inform His Majesty immediately,” a young servant cut in amidst the excited whispering, bowing to Tattle and hurrying out of the courtyard.

#story snippet #my post #fantasy #dragons #medieval setting #royalty #commoner narrator #adventure #my writing

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stuffwedoistotallynotillegal · 6 years

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Salt of the Earth (Pt 5)

Description: Fem!Reader Y/n is taken in by the Avengers for protection. As she gets older, we see the stories of her life with them and how she bonds.

Author: Lee

Warnings: feels. too many feels, minor swearing

Age twelve was the first time Y/n ever had a crush. But it wasn't who one may have thought it to be. One would expect it to be some other kid around her age that Y/n would spend her time stuck up on, but it wasn't.

No, it wasn't some other pre-teen Y/n found herself giggly and spending sleepless nights thinking about. It was Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. She never knew of her feelings until he got back from a month long mission.

When he got back, everyone heard the thump of his duffle bags. Y/n was sitting at a table near the entrance working on homework from the makeshift homeschool Bruce had made up. When she looked up and across the room, she saw Bucky stretching out his arms and cracking his back. The scraping of Y/n's chair against the floor got his attention as she got up and moved toward him.

He paced forward, as well, reaching out his arms and embracing her tightly, whispering "Hey, can crusher" as he picked her up off the floor to hug her tighter.

It was then that Y/n realized how safe she felt in his arms. That's when she realized she had a crush on Bucky. Maybe not because she found him cute or wanted to date him -- it was because she felt safe and comfortable in his arms and presence. She could feel his genuine nature, he wouldn't hurt her on purpose, he would always do his best to protect her. She had a crush on him because she knew he understood her by some way, and she understood him. She had a crush on him because he's her hero.

Bucky let Y/n down and ruffled her hair, picking up his bags and walking to his room. Y/n followed behind him and Bucky turned his head to question her.

"So, what have you been learning?" he asked.

"Photosynthesis, cellular respiration, basic physics, algebra. Oh, and Tony taught me some stuff with computers."

"What about chemistry?" Bucky inquired with a smirk.

Y/n looked up at Bucky with a 'really?' look. He only chuckled and walked into his room, leaving his door open for her to enter. She followed in and took a look around at the chaotic mess around her. She'd been in rooms like Steve's where there was clutter, but organized clutter at best. This, however, looked like someone came in and tore through everything - maybe that's what actually happened.

Y/n turned back to Bucky as he threw some of his dirty clothes in the hamper at his bathroom doorway. She watched him unpack in silence until she noticed his arm.

"Buck, you have a dent." she noted.

Bucky looked down at the bicep of his metal arm and pursed his lips.

"Yeah." he stated.

Y/n stared at it for a moment and Bucky stood stiff as he heard the small noise of the metal pushing back to shape. Bucky stared at his arm for a moment before turning back to Y/n. She had a small smile as she looked up into his eyes. Bucky sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Thank you." his voice was barely audible.

"It's not issue, anytime." Y/n told him.

His lips curved up slightly as he put his hands together and gently rubbed them. Y/n had been around him enough to know that meant he was pondering something. Y/n didn't ask; she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"You should probably get some sleep, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, I probably should." he said back.

Y/n stepped up to him and gave him a brief hug. He hugged back.

Y/n sat in her room, lost in thought as she stared at the wall in front of her. The sound of yelling brought her back and she got up to go to the door. Just as she reached it, it busted open and Sam reached in to grab her. Before Y/n could process what was happening, she was thrown over Sam's shoulder and he was sprinting down the hallway. Y/n looked up and down through the hallway to see Steve thrown across the living room. Bucky stepped into view, but Y/n could tell by the way he stood that he wasn't himself.

The Winter Soldier turned his head and made eye contact with Y/n as she disappeared farther down the hallway. It wouldn't be long before he'd follow.

Sam was quick on his feet and didn't hesitate to get Y/n in one of many rooms and barricade the door with nearly every movable object. Sam then slide over to Y/n, kneeling down.

"Ok, we have to be very quiet, ok? He can hear very well and we don't want him findi-" Y/n cut him off by holding up a finger.

Sam obviously couldn't hear the glorious singing of vibranium get louder as The Winter Soldier made his way down the hall. Y/n could, she always can. Sam and Y/n both sat there in the room as the assassin walked by the door. Sam watched Y/n's eyes as they followed where Bucky's brainwashed body passed by the door. Sam felt his heart nearly stop as he watched Y/n eyes ease their way back to the door, still following where Bucky would be.

A loud bang rattled the entire room as the door shook with the force being exerted. A sick splintering sound echoed through the room as part of the door fell apart. A metal arm reached in and pushed away the objects blocking the door from opening. Sam quickly stood up and ran at the soldier as he entered, but was literally thrown away. Bucky's vacant eyes fell on Y/n as he stomped his way over to her.

"Bucky, please stop, I don't want to hurt you." Y/n stated calmly.

Bucky only progressed on her. Sam groaned as he stood up and spastically lunged at The Winter Soldier. Sam was grabbed around the throat by the non-metal hand and thrown to the ground. Bucky lifted his vibranium arm and was about to bring it down. He seemed to have stopped in the middle of this action and Sam furrowed his eyebrows. Sam was confused until he looked to Y/n; her eyes glowed vibrant purple and Sam realized that Bucky didn't stop, he was only being held back. Sam wriggled out of Bucky's grip and saw that he was already staring at Y/n. The assassin started getting up and advancing towards Y/n until she tilted her head ever-so slightly and suddenly Bucky was pinned to the ground. Only, this time not by his arm. By his entire body.

Sam looked back and forth from Y/n to Bucky. He saw how distraught she seemed and it took him a moment to realize that she was controlling his entire body. Sam was both amazed and unnerved by this realization, but he understood how conflicted Y/n seemed in that moment.

Bucky's entire body shuddered as he blinked rapidly.

"What's going on, why can't I move?" Bucky cried in panic.

Y/n released his hold on him and let the few tear drops in her eyes fall to her cheeks. Bucky sat up and looked over to Y/n, seeing the state she was in.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, honey, I'm so sorry." Bucky now started crying.

Y/n moved forward slowly and reached out for Bucky. He didn't take her hand in fear that she would be too scared to let him. Y/n didn't care, though. She didn't care that he went into assassin mode, she cared that she just controlled someone she loved dearly, even if it was to save her and Sam's lives. Y/n dropped to her knees as she wrapped her arms around Bucky. He only continued to sob as she let her head rest against his back and closed her eyes. Sam looked out into the hall to see the rest of the team come running in only to be faced with such a heartbreaking sight.

"I need to be put back into cryo." Bucky announced to the group.

His words stung harder than any slap.

"Buck." Steve uttered.

Bucky didn't speak for a moment, only looked down before glancing over to Y/n:

"Put me back in cryo."

"No." Y/n spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Y/n." Bucky warned.

"No! Why?"

"Because, Y/n, I hurt everybody here! Nearly killed you and Sam-"

She cut Bucky off.

"You didn't hurt me!" You shouted.

Everyone in the room was hesitant, but Bucky held his ground.

"It doesn't matter, Y/n! I'm a walking weapon, a war machine used to kill. I can't be sure what any of you are going to get with me, even if I take a goddamn nap!" Bucky shouted back.

Y/n stood still as she studied Bucky. Bucky calmed down before speaking again.

"Y/n, listen. I don't want to be a burden and I don't want to be dangerous. You may not think I'm either of those things, but I know that patience is only so thick. This has happened more than it should, and I need to be able to calm down and get some peace for a while."

Y/n stood still as tears rolled down her cheeks, she didn't say a word, just walked away. Everyone sat quietly.

Tags:

@attentionseekingprincess @sanguinefalls @flowerpool

@sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @high--power @ravenclaw-geek24

@skeletoresinthebasement @fab-notfat @captainfbffangirl99 @thefiregypsy

@avengeforrevenge @snapplejuice @dont-let-me-go-again @ssweet-empowerment @skeletoresinthebasement @allisonbaelfire

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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ellebeebee · 6 years

Text

There Thou Goest Also

Part 1 of 4: Threshold

Two | Three | Four

First PoE work, and I wanted to examine my Watcher’s spiritual growth over the game’s events. Sharp, a folk death godlike from Vailia, has a complicated relationship with Berath. Expect self-indulgent backstory and vigilante world building.

1669 words, f!Watcher & All The Friends She Made Along The Way, (no pairing), teen rating by AO3

On AO3

Sharp got her sea-legs after a few days. A relief, but also an irony since she was born by the sheer cliffs of a seaside town. Yet that was a black ocean that strangled with its barren hostility. This ocean bore their ship up on strong rolling hills and surging valleys-- full of promise and vigor. So it took a few days, but she did overcome the roil of her stomach and the wobble in her legs.

What she did not get used to-- would never get used to-- stalked her up and down the decks. Through the mess and to her cabin door. Made her smoky trails itch.

On the second week of the journey Sharp found his cabin, extinguished the nearby sconces, and leaned against the wall for a couple hours after breakfast. He came down the stairs, no wider than a hand’s span, and made so much noise with his heavy steps tangling in his long robes you’d think he was four times his size. He didn’t even check the hall before descending; she’d have called him an easy mark in her previous life. If he were of any consequence at all in the greater scheme of things.

Beyond being a nuisance to her, of course.

He got all the way to only a few strides from his door before he froze at the sight of her.

She pushed from the wall and rolled down the hall on the balls of her boots. His neck craned further and further back as she advanced. The dwarf’s mouth went slack and his eyes widened. She knew he could only make out a vague outline of her-- her height over him and the dark crown of her head-growth-- with what little light seeped down from the stair hatch into the hall’s deep shadows.

“You--” the dwarf managed.

Her hand shot forward. The skull embroidered into the silk of his robes crumpled in her fist as she jerked him toward her, breaking his balance. She kept the robes biting beneath his armpits without quite pulling him off his feet.

“I do not give a fuck what you think I am, priest,” Sharp finally said. Her haze writhed over her neck, reaching toward his twitching cheeks. “I do not care if you think I am blessed by your blighted god. Stop staring at me, you shitheel.”

He inhaled. His cheeks still twitched, but his tongue came loose. “Why do you deny the gifts--”

“No!” she interjected. “No words! I will not spend the rest of this journey stalked by your leers. I am not holy, and trust me, you do not want me to prove to you just how unholy I can be.”

She shook him a bit for emphasis, fully lifted him off the splintered deck flooring, and spun about to switch their positions. He stumbled as she threw him back on his feet, toward his cabin door. Her own feet found the thin stair step easily, quietly.

But she stopped when he spoke.

“You squander the grace of the Twinned God at your peril! We all come to the Wheel in our time, and to pay the toll without fulfilling--”

Sharp whirled and snarled. He stumbled away again and disappeared behind his door with a clatter.

They made the journey to the Dyrwood with a minimum of that staring she’d been so annoyed by, though she could tell every time their gazes briefly met that his words sat barely contained on the tip of his tongue.

“You’re a fool, Watcher.”

They’d decided to camp for the night in the main hall of the ruined old keep and laid out bedrolls beneath the splintered and cobwebbed beams. Durance loomed over her as she sat on a pile of what had once been a wall with the map draped over her knees.

“Eh?” Sharp said. “My Aedyran is not so good, I am not with the understanding.” Her accent ran her words rhythmic and thick.

His bulbous eyes narrowed. “Don’t play the idiot foreigner with me. You know what I said.”

She sighed. “I guess this is the part you tell me why I am a fool now.”

“That broken old mage,” he said, leaning into the twisted knobs of his dark staff, “You had a chance buttress these old walls with his soul. Create a bulwark against your enemies with his suffering. Or better yet, imbue yourself with what secrets he stubbornly hoarded, too weak to use them himself. You could have taken from him what was wasted in his mad and shriveled grasp.”

Somewhere in the midst of this Sharp dug out her pipe. She usually waited to smoke with Edér, but it looked like this was going to go on for a while.

“Instead, you cast him back onto the Wheel, all his trials forgotten, all the scorches left upon his soul by violence washed away by the world’s tides.”

She held her hand over the pipe’s bowl and puffed, trying to get the spark to take. Durance’s greasy hair and greasy burnt robes both swung as he leaned further in toward her. The veins of his fist gripping his staff bulged. Unnecessarily, she thought, but what did she know about hedge priests and their whore-goddesses?

Caed Nua suited him. A face marked by time and violence, and walls marked by the same forces. Hollow foundations falling deep beneath the surface and full of unseen monsters. Yes, the place suited him more than her.

His wild eyes roved over her. “Are you, beneath your untruths and glib lies, actually moved by those… scars Berath inflicted on your mortal form?”

She frowned at him. And thought about all the ways she could gut him.

“You owe nothing to that lazy bag of bones,” Durance said. “None of us do. The grand scheme of the Wheel is all good and well, but Berath gives us nothing. They do not actually care for humanity and the life of man. Fate is an excuse for those unwilling to take what they can earn. For those cowards that will not suffer for real change and transformation.”

He tapped his staff. “Bowing to fate will make you weak, Watcher. Bowing to Berath--”

Sharp stood. “I have never bowed to the one you call Berath.”

She spat, uncaring her spittle landed near his feet. She gestured to her head and its crown of dark cartilage. “This? This is no blessing. It is some cosmic joke and gives me no debt to any god.”

“And yet you still followed the will of so-called ‘fate,’” he smiled.

She stilled herself, removed the hand she had at her blades and loosened the sudden tightness in her limbs. Idiot! He had obviously goaded her into anger and she had fallen for it. Such a basic mistake in the blood games of her home, of Vailia, could have cost her dearly.

“I do not need your trials and your suffering, priest,” Sharp said quietly, “To know my strength. I do not need Maerwald’s pain to be a cornerstone of this keep.”

She kicked a fragment of brick and sent it clattering over the cracked tiles. “The place reeks enough without his sweat.”

She stalked away, ending the conversation. Durance was wrong. His goddess was wrong. Suffering was just as like to baptise a man to emerge as a beast as-- as-- shit, who knew. Some fiery truth-speaker and champion. Or whatever it was that Durance was conniving to turn her into. Pain did not elevate kith. She had seen it herself. Pain was just as like to make you turn on your friends and loved ones. To say, well, they were just weak and unworthy! How convenient.

No. Kith toiled in this world for a time, and that was it.

Sharp frowned down into her pipe; she’d let it go cold. That line of thinking bothered her. It was too close to those disciples of Cirono, always watching her, expecting something. Why had she given Maerwald back to the Wheel?

Shit, what did it matter. She kicked another brick.

The dreams sometimes took her beyond the towering machine seen through a fever fog. Further down, down and down.

The white-yellow sun pricked relentlessly at her shoulders. Her seat beneath the jagged bare tree gazed on one side off down the main road into the village and its red-tiled roofs, and on the other toward the brown grass that dropped off at the edge of mottled cliffs. Black sea-water and salty froth lashed at the sheer rock.

At the very edge of town a group of men and women in pale and practical tunics, aprons, and skirts hefted a large cotton-wrapped bundle over their shoulders. From the maze of plastered walls behind them, a man in black silk robes darted clumsily after the group. Even here, high above them and by the cliffs, she could see the sweat gleaming off his face.

When the priest reached them, the group halted. Words were exchanged. The conversation dragged. Got heated, from the way a few villagers gestured at him, and he raised his voice loud enough to reach her. Though the words were indistinct.

But she knew anyway. The old woman had belonged to a family from the outskirts. Her living in town had been chance. But the priest should know better. He was new, from a grand city.

He hadn’t had a chance yet to learn that his god only had a superficial place in this land. Like the pretty top of a peach left too long, so the underside went black and liquid.

Finally, the tallest shepherdess pushed the priest into the dirt, a yellow cloud wafting up from beneath him. The group left him squawking in their wake.

She stood. She’d cut across the common pastures to get back to the palace. She didn’t look back to see if they would sign against the sight of her, or even ask her to help them with what they did to the body.

#pillars of eternity #fanfiction #my writing

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darkhymns-fic · 7 years

Text

Murder with a Side of Lies (Ch. 4)

Another new pocky-eating witness takes the stand, providing both Papyrus and Undyne a real challenge... As well as a chance for the great detective to show off his T.V. show trivia!

Fandom: Undertale Characters: Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Sans Rating: PG Chapters: 4/8 Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: The sequel to Kidnappings in the Early Evening by Sky. A fusion of detective noir fiction and courtroom drama! All stories, art, etc., related to this main story will be under the tag #undertale noir. (chrono)

Suggested courtroom music!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

A Dame a Dozen

After another round of honorable flexing, Aaron appeared to be quite content. The audience settled, the judge snoozed, and the prosecutor posed. Of course, this is the norm for court cases, so I don’t really need to be telling you this, do I, notepad?

Sans yawned. “court’s in session.”

Despite an unhappy reunion with some old pals, Undyne refused to let it get her down. Arms crossed, lips splayed in a fang-filled grin, confidence swelled in her chest and burst into mine.

Well… that was how we felt at the time at least. I wish I could say we never lost that feeling.

“You dorky detectives proud of yourselves, hm?” Mettaton mused.

Undyne let out a hearty laugh. “Of course! We can take on anything you throw at us!”

A noise which could only be described as pure pleasure passed through the prosecutor’s pipes. “Oh my, I do so hope that’s true, but alas, I fear otherwise!”

At the time, we had simply waved him off. While I always respected and looked up to Mettaton as a great performer, Undyne and I had an unbreakable bond of friendship! Just what could he possibly do to slow us down?

“Darling, darling, don’t be shy, you can come out now!” Mettaton murmured, motioning mildly.

“I-I-I’m coming, s-s-sorry.”

Undyne recognized that stutter instantly. Her confidence shattered.

“H-h-hi Undyne…” Alphys mumbled, attempting to make eye contact but only managing to stare at her yellow feet. “S-sorry.”

I certainly wasn’t ready for that either! Alphys wore her usual purple and black overalls filled to the brim with Mettaton flair. Although, something was off since I had last seen her. Her scales were paler than I remembered, like something had drained the color right out. Even when no one spoke, she winced in pain, rubbing her temples.

“Now now, don’t apologize, darling!” Mettaton cooed. “Please, do tell the court your name and occupation!”

The scientist appeared as if she had to think on this one. “I-I-I’m Dr. Alphys,” she stuttered. Much like Undyne, Alphys had a vice of her own. Unable to handle the pressure, she dug out a small box of candy sticks labeled ‘Pocky’ from her pockets, placing one of the chocolate sticks in her mouth. “I-I’m a scientist, obviously. I c-c-created Mettaton and he was k-k-kind enough to give me a job when he became a s-s-star.”

“Yes! And it’s a fabulous job, isn’t it? Could you ever ask for more?” Mettaton added, bathing in Alphys’ praise. “Tell the people how much you love it!”

Another wince. She held her eyes closed tight for a moment, shaking her head as if she were dizzy. “I-I do love it, y-yes…”

“Objection!” Undyne roared, slamming a fist into our desk. The outburst startled Alphys, causing her to sporadically eat her candy even faster. “Don’t force Alphys to praise you!”

“I-i-it’s all right, Undyne, really,” she tried to say, but no one was listening.

“Forcing praise? Me?” With a dignified twirl the rascally robot faced his audience. “How can I force anyone to love me when they already do?” He held out his arms and basked in their uproarious applause. I had to try my darndest not to join in! It looked like so much fun! But Undyne would probably get mad if I did.

A vein pulsed across my fishy friend’s forehead, threatening to burst! Scary! Splinters of wood exploded in every direction as she pounded her fist harder and harder into the desk. “You worthless trash bin! You’re completely blinded by that fat ego of yours! You don’t care how she feels at all!”

I frowned. Ironically, it seems I was the only one paying attention to Alphys at this point. The poor girl wanted to be anywhere else but in the middle of this. “G-g-guys…”

Another wagging finger as Mettaton reflected the insults away effortlessly. “Hmm? Some nerve calling me a trash bin when you still have spaghetti stuck to your hair.” He laughed. “Or is that just your natural hair color? Week-old spaghetti?”

Her eyelid twitched, and her lip oozed frightening dark stuff from grinding her fangs too hard. I tried my best to soothe her rage. “UNDYNE, THAT’S NOT SO BAD! I LOVE SPAGHETTI!” That only seemed to enrage her further.

She turned her head to face me and that lone eye of hers burned brighter than a gasoline fire. For once, I found myself speechless.

Fart fart fart. PPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAART!

The room went completely silent. Mettaton’s lights went out, Undyne’s rage was replaced with an inexplicable confusion, and the audience was absolutely dazed.

“heh, good ol’ whoopee cushion,” Sans laughed contently, holding his gavel above the rubber toy. “i don’t want this trial turning into a big ‘ol stinker, (heh) ok, fellas? how about we let alphys speak instead of fighting over her.”

Normally, I’d be incredibly angry at my brother for being so childish! But, that was incredibly effective! Even I couldn’t get control over Undyne! Her fiery hatred was doused once she saw her girlfriend gnawing down those candy sticks faster than a beaver hyped up on coffee.

Of course, this didn’t mean Undyne was going to apologize any time soon! “Yeah. You’re right,” she said solemnly, crossing her arms.

“GREAT JOB, YOUR MAJESTY!” I gave a thumbs-up to my bro, who in turn got me a wink back.

“Your Honor,” Undyne corrected.

“HONORABLE, YOU MEAN. I AM HONORABLE, YES I AGREE!”

“No, I mean – ngah, forget it.” She sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Agreed.” The boxy bot bowed brilliantly. “Alphys, darling, if you could tell us what you know?”

Alphys let out a startled ‘meep’ once the attention was finally back on her, scattering her precious candy sticks across the floor. “O-oh, yes. Of c-c-course!” She pulled out a piece of paper with a big-headed big-eyed human on the top corner. “I-I did an analysis on the d-d-dust once the dogi brought it to me last night. According to my t-t-tests, Burgerpants’ estimated time of death should be very close to 8:30 PM.”

“HOLD IT!” I shouted, causing Alphys to jump in shock and scramble for her paper. “WOULD YOU MIND TELLING US HOW YOUR TESTS CAME TO THIS CONCLUSION MS. ALPHYS?”

Gasps and wheezes blew out of her lungs as she attempted to correct her breathing. “Y-y-yes. R-r-right.”

Undyne was concerned. “Hey, Pap, mind trying not to yell so much? She looks a bit more nervous than usual.”

I nodded. I’d try my best at least?!

Deep breaths. Alphys nodded to herself and continued, “T-t-to put it simply, I test the dust’s t-t-t-temperature. Based on how warm or cold it is; I can p-p-pretty much accurately find out the monster’s time of death. When I received B-B-Burgerpants’ dust later that night, I noticed straight away how w-w-warm it still was. He c-c-clearly had fallen down quite recently.”

“INTERESTING!” I mused. Undyne glared. I coughed and tried to clear my non-existent throat. (It’s very therapeutic even if I don’t have one!) “Interesting. What about the rain? Wouldn’t that have messed up your calculations?” Boy, I had to really really strain my voice just to keep it this low!

She shook her head. “I a-a-accounted for the rain, don’t worry. Even with all that, it was still quite w-w-warm.”

“To add on to that,” Mettaton interrupted, tossing a handful of glamorous glitter our way. “Catty was found with the burgers and the dust of our dearly deceased at almost exactly 8:30 PM as well.”

The judge was laying his skull on his arms, looking drowsy. “that’s some pretty hot evidence against the defendant.” Gah! Puns aside, he was right!

Another wag of the finger. “Oh, but that’s not all, darlings! My sweet Alphys also witnessed the deceased’s final hours!”

My eyes bulged out of their sockets at what felt like a terrible blow to our defense. Nyeh! Not that I was afraid or anything!

Alphys was positively shoveling that pocky down her throat, sweat dripping from every angle I could imagine. “Y-y-y-yes, it’s t-t-t-true. I w-w-w-was at w-w-work at the time and I s-s-saw Burgerpants l-l-l-leave at 8:00 PM. H-h-he even said he was g-g-g-g-going to meet Catty.”

“I can corroborate that,” Mettaton chimed in. “As his wonderful boss, he gladly told me that he was going to see a friend that night! I didn’t see him leave, however, but luckily I can always count on my darling Alphys!”

“HANG ON!” I yelled again, before remembering to use my quiet voice. “What’s your relationship with the victim? What was his job?”

Mettaton’s lights animated into a bright red exclamation mark. “Oh my, how silly of me! I should have mentioned this before! Burgerpants was a dear dear employee of mine. He worked in the fast food department of MTT studios. He absolutely loved his job and loved me with all his heart!” He placed a hand against his ‘forehead’ and made like he was going to faint. “Oh, my dear sweet Burgerpants! How I miss thee!”

Call me crazy, but I don’t think he missed thee at all!

This was quite the evidence they had against Catty! I must admit, I was floundering a bit behind the desk. Undyne was lost in thought, however, moving her cigarette carelessly between her lips.

“Ms. Alphys,” I said through strained tones. “You’re sure you saw Burgerpants that night?”

Her glasses fogged up and her breathing intensified again. I wasn’t even loud! That shouldn’t have startled her! “Y-y-yep! 8:00 PM! For s-s-sure!” She tried to give me a confident smile, but it kind of just unnerved me.

Mettaton motioned with what appeared to be a nod. “Alphys was scheduled to work till 8:00 PM that night as well, so you can be sure she’s telling the truth.”

This didn’t seem right! Alphys was extra nervous, even for her! Could she be lying about when she last saw Burgerpants? Why would she lie? Even if she was, how could I possibly prove it?

I looked over to Undyne for assistance. Who would know more about Alphys than her girlfriend, of course! But she remained strangely quiet, staring ahead, deep in thought again. “UNDYNE!” I whisper-yelled, breaking her out of the trance. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS?”

She frowned, unable to keep eye contact with me. “I might. But…”

“BUT WHAT? THE UNDYNE I KNOW WOULD NEVER HESITATE!”

A few blinks. Undyne kept her voice low. “I don’t know. Alphys is already so stressed, you know? She looks sick with it even. I don’t want to embarrass her or anything,” she sighed. “Like I did with Dogamy and Dogaressa.”

Ah, of course. Undyne was a fierce warrior, but she’d never hurt her friends! On purpose, that is. Well, maybe a little on purpose, but usually only with physical violence.

“CATTY IS DEPENDING ON US, THOUGH!” I argued. “WE PROMISED WE’D HELP HER! YOU DON’T WANT SOMEONE TO GET FALSELY ACCUSED IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING, RIGHT? IMAGINE IF I GAVE SOMEONE A PLATE OF SPAGHETTI AND I KNEW IT WASN’T ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS! THAT WOULD BE WRONG!”

She thought on that for a moment. “I’m not so sure about that analogy, but I guess you’re right.” Undyne clenched her fist. “Justice needs to be delivered.” Just like my delicious spaghetti! Justghetti! Oh! I’m keeping that one!

“Tick, tock, darlings!” Mettaton mimed a watch on his hand. “Or have you finally given up?”

“We’ll never give up,” Undyne grinned, eye flaring with a magical light. “Alphys.”

The mousy lizard flinched at that. “Y-y-yes, Undyne?”

My fishy friend calmly placed her palm down on the battered desk. “You say you saw Burgerpants leave work at 8:00 PM last night. Sunday, wasn’t it?”

Pant. Wheeze. Alphys was sweating more bullets than a machine gun. “Y-y-yep! Sunday at 8:00 PM!”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Undyne’s eye was sharper than her spears.

Alphys laughed, but it was a high-pitched laughter. “W-w-why would you think that?”

Her words were slow. Deliberate. “Game of Bones. I know you’ve heard of it. It airs new episodes every Sunday at 8:00 PM.”

Oh! Game of Bones! I loved that show! It was about skeletons living in medieval times, fighting for a chance to sit on the Bone Throne! The show is filled with betrayal, twists, and steamy romances! I never miss it myself.

Judging by Alphys’ reaction, she appeared to be quite the fan, too! Her eyes lit up for but a moment at the mention of the name, ready to gush. “S-s-sure! I l-like Game of Bones! S-so what?”

Undyne frowned and pointed an accusing spear her way. “I watch it with you every week! You’d never miss even a second of it, no matter what!”

Wowie! What a twisting attack! But, this didn’t have the effect on Alphys that I thought it would! She didn’t get nervous at all! In fact, her face crinkled up in what looked to be anger.

A pocky stick in her grip crumbled to dust in her claws. “Y-yeah?! W-w-what do you know! You weren’t with me t-t-this week!”

I don’t think Undyne was ready for that either. The counter attack nearly knocked her off her feet, leaving her stunned. Now that I think about it, Sunday night was the time Undyne was sad and missing from work. I guess she was avoiding Alphys during that time as well.

A fit of loud clapping brought all our attentions back to Mettaton who’s lights blinked with distraught. “There’s a problem with your little theory, darling. First of all,” he held up one finger. “Alphys would never ditch work like that!” He held up two fingers. “Second of all, why wouldn’t she just record the show to watch later?”

Alphys was nodded angrily, chomping into her pocky with an aggression that could only be matched by her girlfriend. “Y-y-yeah!”

A flick of the wrist, so lax and so simple, and their attacks were deflected. Undyne’s grin was wild, untamed, as if she were in the heat of real battle. “If I’m understanding correctly, you should have had no time to watch Game of Bones yet, right Alphys? You must have been working with Mettaton on those tests non-stop.”

Metal screeched and hissed inside his chassis. “Of course she was working with me, darling,” the words were spit out like battery acid. “Alphys is a hard worker and would do anything for me. The only shows that could possibly make her slack off would be my own!”

Alphys nodded, but her anger had tensed. Her armor cracked. Clear to all, especially Undyne. “I-I-I was planning to watch it after the trial was over!”

Mettaton’s lights blinked way too brightly. His glitter-filled gloves gripped and grappled his desk with such a grievous force. “Exactly, darling, and there’s no way you could prove she watched it!” He cheered and posed for the audience, but it was stiff and angry. Undyne had gotten under his plated skin.

Undyne’s words were as smooth as water, as still as a light brook in the forest. “You’re gonna have to try a little harder than THAT.”

A short circuit. A skull and cross bones animated itself over Mettaton’s body, blinking blood red. No one was supposed to outdo him! No one could steal the show from him! “You! You’re just bluffing! A cheap bluff, too! No one should be falling for this amateur act!” Wowie! I think steam was literally whistling out of his body?

His words were nothing but a cool breeze to her. In fact, Undyne appeared to enjoy it. “Oh, Papyrus!” she called out politely.

Oh yeah! I’m here! Wowie, I was so enthralled in their battle, I completely forgot! “YES, UNDYNE?”

She faced me, but her eye was locked on Alphys. “Can you tell me what your favorite part of Game of Bones was last night?”

Before I could even think to speak, a shrill “S-S-stop! Spoilers!” rang out. If I had any ears, I’m sure they would be ringing after that.

Alphys fell right into Undyne’s trap, and both knew it all too well. Still, neither planned to give up. Mettaton, however, was left out, and furious about that fact.

“But, I need to prove a point here, Alphys,” Undyne cooed almost sarcastically. “A few spoilers to prove you’re not lying in a court of law shouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“yeah, considering this is a murder case and all, i’d say a few show details wouldn’t spoil the case,” Sans added. “i’ll allow it.”

Mettaton’s fingers twitched and clenched at the edge of his desk, ready to throw the entire thing in a fit of anger. “Alphys, darling,” his voice was spiking and crackling. “It’s just some stupid show. I’m not even in it! It can’t be that important!”

The pocky must have been consumed by the pound at this point. In her haste, she bit her finger on accident and screeched. “F-f-fine! I-it’s just a d-d-dumb show! I-I don’t care!”

I could swear that Undyne had a heroic wind blowing through her hair somehow. “Go, ahead, Papyrus! Tell us about some of your favorite scenes last night!” The wind stopped howling for a moment. “But, uh, a bit quietly please. For Alphys.”

Oh boy! Well, there was so much! Where to even start? Game of Bones was one of my favorite shows!

“It was all so perfect!” I started, really trying to contain my voice. Even just those words caused Alphys to cringe, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what was so wrong with that. “Tybia Boneister was great! Sure, he was small, but using his intellect and cunning, he was able to escape out of all sorts of sticky situations!”

“yeah, that guy’s my favorite.” Sans winked.

“Oh, and then there was Jon Bone!” I went on, remembering. “He got into some antics with a girl skeleton and she kept saying ‘You know something, Jon Bone? I really like you!’ Boy, was that funny!”

Alphys was breathing heavily. Her glasses were completely fogged up now, keeping her eyes hidden from all of us.

“I know it’s hard to believe, that I, The Great Papyrus, might weep, but when Bonesis sacrificed his favorite toy so that he could win the baseball game…” I sniffled. Just thinking about it gets me feeling like jelly! “I cried! The writing was so beautiful! To think he still lost that game… I was so sad!”

Alphys held up a finger like she was about to halt me. She mumbled something to herself and shook her head. Mumbled a few more words. Shook her head more. She nodded. Was she having an argument with herself? I hoped she was okay. Undyne urged me to keep going, but I was starting to fear for Alphys’ safety.

“Then there was this part with Sir Bony Stan! Oh! We finally got to see him use his mythical karate chop slams!” I mimicked the fight to the best of my ability, and it was amazing, of course. Everyone was impressed. “The end of it though…” I know I was given the okay to spoil it, but I didn’t want to. “Well, let’s just say it was a great fight and ended perfectly!”

Something cracked. Eh? Glass crunching? Or the sawing of wood? What was-

“NO! NO! NO, NO NO! IT WAS SO STUPID!” the voice screamed. Alphys?! “It was completely different in the manga! Sir Bony Stan was the best karate fighter in the entire Game of Bones universe! How did he get beaten by a bunch of fat untrained rich guys like that?”

I faltered. “W-WELL HE WAS SURROUNDED--”

Alphys slammed a claw down on the podium, breaking it in half. “Surrounded?! So what!? The greatest karate master shouldn’t have gotten into a situation where he was surrounded!” Her words exploded out of her lungs clearly and passionately. “In the manga, he was able to get SIX homeruns in a row, without even using a bat! Just by using his karate alone!”

“O-OH. W-WELL I DIDN’T READ THE MANGA SO--”

Alphys huffed. “Of course you didn’t read the manga! I could crush my glasses on the floor and I’d still be able to see you didn’t read the manga!”

“I-I DIDN’T--”

The scientist didn’t stop there. “Ugh! Bonesis would never sacrifice his favorite toy either! That’s not canon at all! It was so dumb! He loved that toy! In the manga at least, but clearly the show doesn’t care about its plot anymore if last night’s episode is anything to go on!”

The rants went on for about five or ten minutes. I chose to leave that part out because Alphys started using some language that I refuse to repeat! Even Undyne looked a little scared, but also proud?

Once she had gone through the entire episode in extraordinary detail and told us why parts of it were terrible, the little lizard finally returned to her original form. The silence was so thick and uncomfortable I could taste it. Tasted like instant noodles?

Mettaton had shut down during the rant. His lights slowly flickered back to life once he realized the torture was over. “Alphys,” Mettaton mumbled meagerly. He reached out towards the heavens as if the gods themselves unfairly tortured his soul. “Alphys, darling, you’ve killed me.”

Well, that was a bit overdramatic, even for Mettaton! But, was he really acting anymore?

“S-s-sorry…” Alphys stuttered out through heaving breaths, rubbing her temples. The poor girl drifted back and forth in a woozy rhythm, leaning against the splintered and battered podium. “I-I… I shouldn’t have lied to you, Undyne.” The fishy girl frowned. “Or to you, Mettaton.” The confident computer blinked silently. “I s-s-shouldn’t have lied to anyone.”

The room was still. Neither side could find what to say. Only Alphys could continue. “I-I’ve been so stressed lately.” She kept her eyes to the ground. “I-I’ve had more work on the side than just for you, Mettaton.” He didn’t pose, he didn’t reply in a sassy tone, he simply listened. “And I knew Undyne was going through a t-t-tough time too. I-I didn’t want to be selfish. I wanted to be s-strong for everyone.”

“Alphys,” Undyne said reflexively.

“No, no,” Alphys shook her head. “I-I won’t pretend it was a good excuse to lie. My testimony should be inadmissible.” She sighed heavily. “If I’m going to be c-c-completely honest here, I don’t even know if the time of death is correct. I haven’t b-been able to rest enough, and my temperature readings just weren’t making sense.” She finally looked over to Mettaton. “I’m s-sorry. I really m-messed this up.”

A strange thing happened then.

“No, darling, I’m sorry.” Mettaton apologizing? I’ve never even seen him do that in a TV show! “I’ve overworked you and I’ve taken you for granted, haven’t I?” His voice was soothing, sweet. Real, even. “Without you, I wouldn’t even exist. I should have listened to you, I should have noticed you were struggling, but I have a hard time focusing on anything but myself, I suppose. I know it won’t mean much now, but I’m going to give you a few days off.”

Alphys must have been expecting backlash. She was surprised, but relieved to hear those words. “T-that would be really nice. Thank you, Mettaton.”

Such a touching moment! My bony heart wanted to burst! “Awwww!” the audience and I murmured in unison. Rose in hand, spotlight sparkling, Mettaton’s chassis blinked with a bright red heart over his screen. He basked in their praise a little too much.

“while i’m really glad we finally learned what’s up with the doc,” Sans chuckled. I don’t get it! “with the testimony being inadmissible and all, we’re gonna need some more evidence to prove catty meowled the victim.”

Yes! Things were going in our favor again! I just hope something doesn’t pop up at the last second and –

“Hold it! (Yeah, hold it!)” barked a couple of voices. Aw, geez. “We’ve found some new evidence at the crime scene! (Yeah, see! We’re good dogs!!)”

Tongues lolling and muzzles panting, the dogi couple scampered up onto the court stage, overshadowing Alphys’ meager form quite easily. They were running in circles, their tails wagging every which way.

Sans called them over. “what’d ya find?” he asked.

The dogi were too excitable and couldn’t stand still.

“sit,” Sans ordered casually, but with a hint of sternness.

Dogamy sat almost instantly. Dogaressa was a bit shocked but then realized she’d probably be out of a treat if she didn’t follow suit, so she sat too.

“drop it.”

They handed it over to Aaron the bailiff who handed it over to Sans.

“good dogs.”

At the sound of praise, the dogi immediately lost control of their enthusiasm again, hopping around and doing circles with each other all while still nuzzling and licking.

Mettaton was quite interested. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense! What is it?”

Sans held the evidence in his phalanges casually, flipping the tiny pink thing through his bony fingers. The light of his eyes focused and stared. “ain’t got a clue,” he shrugged.

“It’s a nail! (A nail from that cat!)” the dogi barked. “We found it at the crime scene! (It’s pink! We had someone else check!)” Dogaressa growled her last words out, clearly not wanting to admit or remind anyone about their color-blindness.

Aww, it really was pink this time. Catty certainly seems the type to have pink nails, too. This couldn’t be good.

Sans looked over the evidence one last time. It was incredibly shiny, gaudy even. “yeah, does appear to be a nail, doesn’t it…” his words vanished as he became lost in thought.

Mettaton managed to clap his hands together quite loudly. “Y-your Honor!” A stutter? “If I might make a suggestion! I think we should take a thirty-minute break to analyze this new evidence and see where to go from here!”

Sans nodded, and suddenly the new evidence couldn’t be less important to him. With a flick of a wrist, he tossed it aside. “sure, why not? i could use another nap. any objections?” He looked our way.

As much as it pained me to not scream another loud ‘objection’ at the top of my magical lungs, I had to keep my cool! “NO OBJECTIONS, YOUR MAJESTY!”

“cool. meet back in a half-hour or whatever,” he yawned, placing his sleepy skull down into his arms.

Just what could this new evidence mean? Sure, the dogi claimed it was Catty’s but I had a strange feeling about it. Undyne agreed with me. Even Mettaton was particularly panicky!

Oh! Where did Alphys go?

She must have left when no one was looking.

#undertale #papyrus #undyne #alphys #mettaton #sans #fanfiction #multi chapter #undertale noir #sky's fics

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teamwynn · 7 years

Text

The Night Voice Retrospective, Pt. 11

Just put me in my fucking grave, I can’t deal with this.

Thirty Years Under the Mountain (a.k.a., the world’s most elaborate attempt to wound me, personally)

I am without words. I am without them because I have so many that I can’t decide which ones are most fit to express my utter and complete disdain with the conclusion to this book, this series, these characters’ stories that I have loved so dearly for so many years. I am betrayed--in the sense that my expectations as a reader were woefully, almost comically, disappointed; in the sense that I paid money to bear witness to this complete wreckage of all established characterization and every sense of quality storytelling techniques; in a sense that is purely cosmic and beyond the abilities of my feeble mortal brain to translate into linguistic phrases formed of black alphabetical markings.

Thirty Years Under the Mountain, which in retrospect I now regard as the first warning sign of the coming apocalypse that was the year 2016 on our miserable hell planet. It was, if nothing else, thematically appropriate to all the other betrayals and disappointments in the real world that we’ve all been forced to endure this past year.

But let’s get into the problems with this, for as limited as my abilities to speak on it are.

So, the battle is won. The Night Voice is defeated and contained. Il’Sanke, Brot’an, the wraith, the specter, and the necromancer are no more. Leesil planted a tree on top of the Spirit Orb and Ore-Locks shoved all of the other orbs into undisclosed hiding places in the earth where no one else can ever find or reach them. Wynn is blind, Magiere is in a poison-induced coma, and everyone else is more or less fine. After some deliberating of how to heal Magiere (“We should pull the arrow out,” “But what if it doesn’t work?” “Well, it did work, so that argument served no purpose but to waste everyone’s time”), the only question left is what Our Heroes intend to do with their miserable, miserable lives now that the evil has been defeated trapped under a tree.

Well, now that everyone is rejoined, the surviving cast of the book can reform back into Team Magiere and Team Wynn in whatever configurations work best for them. You’d think, given how the Teams has historically shaped the whole saga with Team Magiere leading Series 1, Team Wynn leading Series 2, and them coming into conflict and/or partnership throughout Series 3, the most narratively satisfying conclusion would be to bring at least the core the Teams back together now that the threat has been neutralized. But here’s how the breakdown actually ends up going:

Team Magiere does reform and is resolved to go home. At this point in the book, this is the most expected and satisfying conclusion Magiere, Leesil, and Chap could have gotten, but I will have more to say about this a little later on.

Team Wynn remains dissolved. Wynn--after acknowledging that Chap ruined Shade’s life by dictating “what’s best for her” and exiling her from her family--decides that the best thing to do for Shade is… dictating what’s best for her and exiling her from her family. With Team Wynn now permanently splintered:

Wynn and Chane resolve to live in a fucking hole in the ground guarding the sun crystal staff over completely fabricated concerns that it will go out without Wynn watching over it

Shade goes to live a normal dog life in the forest, despite not wanting to do this

Wayfarer is adopted by Magiere and Leesil. But also intends to keep studying under Vreuvilla. And also Chuillyon?? Wait--

Osha….. is sad??? He decides not to go back to the She’ith so…. what is he doing besides being sad? And why is he sad? Because he almost killed Magiere? Because Wynn never made out with him again (because why would she, you’re the one who stopped talking to her, asshole!)?

Chuillyon is apparently cleaning up everyone’s loose ends for them, by dealing with the aftermath of il’Sanke and Brot’an deaths and the fact that they need to keep the Spirit Orb’s location a secret. Fuck all if we know what he plans on doing with his life beyond that.

The book didn’t even pretend to give a shit about Ore-Locks once those orbs were in the ground. Which, by the way, took away the job he had before this book, so we can’t even assume that he would just go back to work with the Stonewalkers, so his ending is a complete blank slate. Did he devote his life to helping the needy? Did he go to art school? Start a garage band? The book never suggests anything he does do, so those guesses are as good as any, as far as I’m concerned.

Any surviving character who is not physically present in that final scene before the epilogue gets absolutely jack shit in terms of conclusion. Not Most Aged Father, Nein’a, Freth, En’nish, Ounyalam, Aupsha, Nikolas, Hawes, Pawl, Li’kan, the Duchess, any of the sages, any of the Stonewalkers, anyone involved in any of the three active civil wars that are occurring in this world, and not any of the side characters from Miiska--and that last set of characters is another thing I will get to a little later.

So, that’s where we’re at with everyone’s retirement plans. Time to roll into the epilogue, where we get a nice, long reminiscence from Chane about how that all turned out for everyone over the past 30 years.

Well, there’s a few immediate problems that spring out with the narrative he gives us. I’ll try to go about it in chunks so I don’t overwhelm us all. First, he explains how he and Wynn have been living in that creepy cave with the giant dragon skeleton and the bottomless chasm all by themselves for three decades. Wynn and Chane live there for the express purpose of checking on the status of the sun staff crystal to make sure it doesn’t go out, causing the tree to die. Chuillyon and his sage minions teleport in via underground tree from time to time to deliver food and essentials, and Magiere, Leesil, and Chap visit Wynn once a year (except for when they don’t) and they’ve all learned to be civil with Chane (except when they’re not.) Wayfarer, Shade, and on one occasion Shade’s babies visit, too. Ore-Locks built a bridge over the chasm, and that was all that was mentioned of him ever hanging out with Wynn and Chane again. I don’t think it was outright stated but strongly implied that Osha never visited. We learn from Chane that he and Wynn mostly spend their time playing cards, drinking tea, and reading books. Chane feeds automatically off the Spirit Orb. Both Wynn and Chane are apparently relieved to be living in isolation so they don’t have to worry about anyone judging them for their gross relationship. Wynn sometimes still plays with her mantic sight and sometimes uses it as a loophole around her blindness to see Chane. We also learn from Chane that Osha and Wayfarer have returned to the Elven Territories in the Farlands.

Problems:

Why do they have to live under the mountain to check on the sun staff? They don’t even check every day. Chuillyon could teleport Wynn there from Calm Seatt like, once a week.

Wynn and Chane are the least equipped to be responsible for this task. Wynn is blind and wouldn’t be able to see if the light went out. Chane will die if he’s exposed directly to the light. This was a poor tactical choice.

Why is Wynn supposedly the only one who can relight the staff if it goes out? Il’Sanke taught her how to do that, and he had other non-sorcerer pupils who probably knew how to do that, could figure it out, or could be taught by Wynn. For example, Mujahid, who was last seen at the Elven Sage’s Guild, which is where Chuillyon lived, making it a very simple matter to teleport Mujahid periodically to the cave to check on the staff. Like… there literally is already an established character in the book who is set up perfectly to handle this task.

No one ever had a legitimate reason to expect the staff to go out, anyway.

And even if it did, what does it matter? The Night Voice could only be destroyed with all five orbs, and Ore-Locks shoved the other four into the crust of the earth. Even if The Night Voice’s minions could find the other orbs, they would never be able to reach them. And trapping the Night Voice didn’t destroy its minions, ‘cause Chane is still there, so all this entire ordeal with the tree and the staff is even accomplishing to begin with is getting the Night Voice to shut up.

Did Chuillyon get his job back? Obviously he’s working with the Sages Guild (but is helping Wynn without their knowledge, apparently?) but when and how did he get his job back? Does the Sages Guild not care that he keeps walking off with resources and delivering them to an unknown location? I feel like if the Guild higher-ups knew about Wynn still being alive, they would give several unhappy shits about it.

Team Magiere has access to teleportation trees and they only visit Wynn once a year? Those guys are shit friends.

Ore-Locks isn’t mentioned visiting at all once the bridge is built. Am I??? honestly supposed to believe that he and Chane just stopped hanging out? Again, he no longer has a job, essentially, and he has historically jumped on the slightest of excuses to run off and hang out with Chane even when he did have a job. And if anything happened to the tree, wouldn’t they want him there to re-hide the Spirit Orb?

While I deeply and sincerely appreciate that nothing was ever said in regard to vampire sex, up to the point of outright insinuating that Wynn and Chane actually had a chaste relationship, what the fuck were they doing for 30 fucking years? Drinking tea does not count as an activity, and reading and playing card games would get boring pretty fucking fast. Not only that, BUT WYNN IS BLIND! Even if Chane read everything to Wynn, how the fuck did just the two of them play cards if Wynn is blind!?!?!?!? And it’s not like living in a cave gives either of them hot new dinner conversation topics. That would be an unsurvivable level of boredom.

Who the fuck was judging Wynn and Chane for their relationship aside from the few people who still visited them under the mountain? We know from way back in Series 1 that Welstiel assumed they were dating, we know the dwarves in Through Stone and Sea all assumed they were dating, the sages mostly seemed to make the same assumption. Most people don’t even know that Chane’s a vampire, and those that do don’t really seem to have any issues with vampire-human relationships. And this concern has never been raised before now, so?? Why is it A Thing now?

With regards to the mantic sight, please read this post. I know I’m trying to distance my main blog from this one, but I think it would literally kill me to type that out again.

How does Chane know about Wayfarer and Osha’s living situation, why does he care, and why does he point out in the narration itself that it doesn’t make sense that they went back there given that they were both exiled? Since the elven rebellion arc was never finished, we have no reason to believe it would ever be safe for either of them to move back there. Not only that, neither of them had anything left in the Elven Territories to motivate them to go back. And Wayfarer was also living with Team Magiere, studying under Vreuvilla, and starting up her own sage’s order. That puts her living in literally four different locations. What the fuck?

Wow, that’s a lot of problems! Let’s continue with the events of the epilogue and see what else we can find.

Except, whoops, this post is already too long! Tune in next time for Part 11.5, where I will continue screaming about Wynn and Chane’s ending, because there is still so much ground to cover on that topic alone.

#The Night Voice spoilers #TNV Retrospective

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