#also why did your mind go to sorrow and rage as what you wrote | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

Note

Could you write a reunion fic as a sequel to the Heisenberg 'alone time' that you wrote? While smut would be wonderful, I'd just be grateful for apologetic Karl forced to be humble for once in his life.

(Also im DYING to know what he did, did OC/Reader discover his Soldats or about Rose? Im so curious and itching for more)

Your writing is awesome and I hope to get to read more Heisenberg goodness from you!

A/N: Thanks so much and I'm glad you guys are enjoying what I'm writing, sorry if it took so long and I'll be happy to answer more asks (including angst and fluff) for RE8. Sorry if this is so damn long but hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Also decided to make it gender neutral as I didn't want anyone to be left out.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, The reader riding Karl, The reader not afraid to talk back to Karl, Stitching, Cursing/Inappropriate Language, Oral, Kissing, Arguing, power bottom' Karl, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Fluff, and nearly 8000 words.

It's been far too long since you have seen that man and you hoped not to see him for as long as you both may live, for a time you thought it was just 2 people with different paths that force them apart but in a way you couldn't be more wrong. You understood and still understand his need to get rid of his troubling and frankly corrupt family, you both shared a dream to run away from the Village and to live somewhere with beautiful sights. To have some form of happiness even if it doesn't last, sure normal life may seem boring but it's all that you both wanted, happiness away from reminders of Miranda and the rest of his seemingly fucked up family. But what it took to for him to get it, his plan that he seemingly thought was so brilliant only made you boil with rage and painful reminders of your past is brought from the dark corners of your memories and into the light of your mind. Children. They're so innocent, good, and pure ... they bring out everything in people, children are something that you hold near and dear to your heart. Children are everything that the world isn't, at least until they're forced to grow up and deal with the cruelty of the world. This wasn't the first time that you had disagreed or fought with Karl in your mind, but what really caused you to boil over was his plans.

A heavy huff slips from your lips as your heavy steps full of anger echoed throughout the factory, your hands are balled into tight fists and your fingers trembled along with your body, you just couldn't fucking take it. You weren't going to stand by and turn a blind eye to sacrificing an innocent child for your happiness, you weren't going to and Karl as usual tried to convince you into it. Make it seem like it'll be worth it in the end. He's stomping after you, following after you like a dog and you can hear him desperately trying to get you to stay, you keep your eyes forward and keep making your way towards the exit. Just as the door is in sight, he reaches out to grab your wrist causing you to gasp before trying to pull out of his grasp, he pulls you firmly towards him and makes you meet his eyes. His green eyes are clouded with ... desperation, they're soft and vulnerable but it didn't phase you. Not one bit. "Come on, (Y/N) ... you know that I'd do anything for you. ... You know I love you ... that's why I have to do this, kitten. You have to fucking understand ...!" He pleads with you, you turn away from his face, that bitter taste still remains on your tongue and his words fall deaf to your ears. "You don't understand! You don't understand at all! You're in your own fucking bubble ...! I can't do this! I can't live with the fact that the man I'm in love with is willing to sacrifice an innocent child for a chance at happiness." You growl at him, your words are breathless and harsh and it stings like poison to his soul, his expression begins to slowly fade into resentment. A look you had never seen before, especially towards you. "Listen to me! ... The fruits of our labor shall come ... but it all comes with a little sacrifice." He barks, his grip on your wrist slightly tightening with his anger rising as he tries to plead with you, get you to understand but you could care less. "Then I don't want to share that kind of happiness or freedom with you at all ...!" You bark back, your words are dripping in poison and there isn't much care behind them, a huff leaves your nostrils and you once again try to get out of his painfully tight grasp but he wants you to hear him. Fuck. "I thought ... fuck ... I thought you fucking loved me. All those nights, all those late-night talks, the passionate love we made ... I guess it meant fuck-all to you, huh? I guess you never gave a fuck about me ... I wanted you to ... I wanted you to understand." Karl seethes, his words are in a low growl and his green eyes are clouded with bubbling rage and fury. Fuck.

"I did love you, Karl. I still do but you have to leave or do something, I don't fuckin' know but there should be a limit to the price you're willing to pay for a chance at freedom. ... I'm not willing to. This ... this brings back too many painful memories, I would never let myself live if I let her die." You almost sob, your anger that was once boiling and alive was now being put out by the melancholy that rested deep within your soul. That baby reminds you so much of ... your history. You never told him about your past and the trauma you somewhat suffer from it that makes you long and ache for freedom. But now wasn't the time. At all. "I can't do that ...! You know I can't ...! You can't leave me, (Y/N) ...!" He shouts at you, desperately clinging to his relationship that is burning, crumbling right in front of his very eyes, he's trying so hard to save it but the thought quickly floods in what if he can't save what you have? His jaw clenches and his throat begins to tighten, breaths become hard to even get out and you can hear his low growl of rage and sorrow echo through your ears. Your throat had tightened the moment he reached out for your hand and now the tears were swelling in your eyes, leaving them uncontrollably. "I love you, Karl. But this is the end of us. The end of our story together." You managed to choke out as his expression softens yet he's stiff, a frown is plastered on his lips, and doesn't seem like it's leaving anytime soon. Regrets plague his mind, "I regret ever opening up to you. Fuck, I never should've let you into my life especially if you were gonna fuck me over and leave me alone." He thinks to himself and immediately lets go of your wrist, he forces on a blank expression and forces his tears to be hidden away, he pushes away his heartache and goes back to the only way he knows how to not fall apart, to not lose himself and to become weak.

"I never wanna see your fuckin' face again. Leave. Don't even think of coming back. You fuckin' ... you fuckin' hurt me ..." He grunts and growls at you, even lightly pushing you towards the door before turning his back on you as he crosses his arms. Fuck. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." You manage to say in a whisper, wiping away your tears and sniffling to yourself before leaving out that door and never looking back, it was hard leaving him behind to wallow and experience his pain alone that you caused. But you stand by your choice that you couldn't stay if he had to use Rose for his plans. Still, he plagued your dreams, still had nightmares about that man, about losing him in so many graphic ways. You tried to live your life, going to work and just trying to find a way to live without seeing Karl ever again at least you thought. You never forgot him. It was around 2 in the morning and you managed to sleep for just a few minutes until your phone rang obnoxiously loud, ringing and vibrating against your nightstand. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and an annoyed groan left your lips before you picked up your phone, though you had lost his number you knew it was in that village and it meant that he was the only one calling you. You almost want to toss your phone across the room, a familiar bitter taste begins to coat your tongue and you slowly take in a breath staring at the phone in your hand. "God fucking damn it." You curse bitterly, regretfully pressing the answer button on your phone, scratching at your head you answer with a bitter and low "hello" that is answered with heavy ragged breaths. Coughing soon follows after and echoes through the phone. "What the he-" You begin to ask before you're interrupted by his sudden cursing and rage-filled words. "Stupid fucking Ethan Winters ... the bastard ... couldn't even ... finish the job ..." He coughs into the phone, blood pools in his gut, fuck he was ruining one of his favorite shirts and an empty swallowing pain aches through his stomach. But he barely cared.

"The fuck are you rambling about, Karl ...?" You ask harshly, standing up on your feet as you press the phone to your ear, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, fuck off! You wouldn't understand ...! Or care!" He howls back before you can hear him cough once again before a wince soon slips from his parted lips, an agitated expression twists onto your face. "You must've thought I would care if you thought to fuckin' call me. Tell me what's up or I swear I'll fucking hang up." You bark at him, clenching your fists tightly as heavy ragged breaths left your body in the presence of your anger. " ... If you do give a damn ... then your ex is bleeding the fuck out in his factory ... with no knowledge of medicine and shit." He coughs out, he presses his hand firmly onto his large wound, fuck was he in bad shape and Ethan Winters had fucked him up but like a coward left him alive. "I might be there. Keep pressure on the wound and try not to die, dickhead." You huff in a ragged breath before hanging up quickly, in a way you thought it was karma for him wanting to use a baby and possibly murder a baby to get rid of his toxic and frankly not real family.

You sit back down onto your bed with a heavy sigh leaving your lips and a question on your mind. Was it gonna be worth it? He could be trying to trick you, you thought to yourself and really questioned if you should drive there and help him supposedly. As much as you wanted to be bitter, to hold onto that resentment but your heart and soul ached to see that filthy man, it called out to him desperately. Your heart sang to see him, to hear him despite your mind's warnings and reasonable viewing of the situation. Like a dumbass, you listened to your heart and began to get dressed, you threw on some old coat and a pair of washed-up skinny jeans, you grabbed a med-kit and some stitches and quickly rush to drive to the hidden and eerie village. With your foot pressed hard on the gas pedal, you kept wishing and praying that he'd be fine, that the waste of gas and the risk of being pulled over by cops worth it. When you finally make it to the factory, it's grim and dark and seemingly stopped working, the smoke that came from the factory is gone, the noise and the racket that his factory produced every second. You quickly get out of your car, medkit, and tools in your arms as you enter, you can hear his heavy strained breaths echoing through the factory that is now seemingly dead. Lifeless. A series of coughs leave his lips as he sits slumped up against the side of his bed, his blood drips and oozes off his hand, covering his stomach wound as the pain just continued, it still ached and stung like salt on an exposed wound. His head is dizzy with a haze over him, fuck was his head aching like a motherfucker and everything on his body ached and cried out in pain. "Karl ...?!" He hears you shout desperately searching for the man, he could hear the distress in your voice, the panic that came in your hurried and seemingly quick steps. "I-I'm h-here ..." He weakly responds in a low whisper, blood begins to coat his tongue and the unfamiliar taste of iron rests upon his tongue. You hear his cry weakly and you quickly rush to his bedroom, heavy breaths leave your lips in your pursuit to find Karl before he bleeds out or chokes on his own blood. What an idiot ...

He's in seemingly worse shape than when you left, his lips are beginning to become tainted with his own blood, many small wounds were all over him but the most concerning was the one on his stomach. He's coughing and trying to take in oxygen, trying to taste something other than iron on his stomach and he turns to find you, standing there before him. Damn. He forces on a wide toothy grin when he meets your gaze, damn he could feel the tension and could see that dark haze in your eyes, full of disappointment and resentment. "So we f-fuckin' meet again, huh?" Karl coughs out as a short series of chuckles soon follow after, he's trying to keep what little pride he had intact. He couldn't be seen as weak after you broke him, you left him in pieces and chose to leave him because of some stupid sacrifices he had to make in pursuit of the happiness and freedom you deserved. "So we do, asshole ... let me guess, the plan that you were so persistent on working didn't fucking work ... what happened to never come back?" You growl at him, crossing your arms as bitterness seemingly runs through you, you could feel your heart thump in your chest and your hands curled into tight fists. " ... That doesn't m-matter right now. I just n-need your fucking help!" He snaps, his words strained and choked before a series of coughs soon leave his lips. You slowly take in a breath, considering whether to just hand him the medkit and fucking peace out but you know the asshole lacks medical knowledge and would die. You let a deep sigh leave your lips before you kneel beside him, putting one of his arms around your shoulders, and with a loud groan of pain, you set him down on the bed, lying him down on his back and making sure he was comfortable. "I'll only be able to take care of this and stop you from bleeding out. You'll have to be still, Karl otherwise I'll fuck up." You advise him, getting up to go wash your hands and make sure that you don't get him infected whilst you're at it, you come back into his bedroom and open the medkit and begin to get to work on the wound. Karl would've never thought or had the pride to call up his ex, the one person he told himself he'd never need again is forced to put his pride on the side and is forced to let his ex attend to his wounds. All he can do is frown deeply, turning away from you to stare out the window, and all he can think is that Ethan Winters is still out there. He's gonna kill Miranda. That was his job, that was something he spent his life working towards doing, getting rid of that bitch Miranda and stealing her precious power. He's forced out of his thoughts when you begin to rub alcohol onto the wound causing a sharp stinging sensation to shoot through him, he grits his teeth at the stinging and almost burning sensation plaguing his body. "Warn me next time, will ya?" He says before a heavy cough soon follows, you sigh deeply as you continue to rub the alcohol on his wound gently, making sure it doesn't get infected and die from an infected wound.

"Warn you? ... It's just rubbing alcohol not a lighter." You respond, rolling your eyes at the man before you as you set down the towel and begin to pull out your thread and your needle. If he thought the alcohol was painful then he is truly in for a rude awakening. "This is gonna be painful, Karl ... I'll try to be quick with it." You state, somewhat warning him of the pain to come. "Please do ... I can't wait until you fucking leave ..." Karl bitterly spat, still unable to accept the fact that he needed you, that you were right, that he wanted you back into his life because, in his mind, it's better to bottle it up. "I won't treat you if you act like an ignorant dog." You spat back, your eyes meet his for a moment as an expression of anger twists onto your face, he begins to try and speak before a wince fell from his lips at the sensation of the thread going through his skin, he slams his fist down onto the bed and hisses at the pain once more. "Says you, you literally came in here pissed. Maybe just shut up and do ... ah!" He begins to say, his words are filled with anger and irritation before another sharp sensation of pain shoots through him. "Look, my bad alright but it's not every day you want to see your ex who was willing to ..." You begin to retort back at him, giving him a mean glare before he barks back. "You have to make sacrifices for everything! ... Now Ethan is going to get his daughter, probably gonna murder Miranda when I deserved the right to kill her. To watch the bitch suffer and choke on her own fucking blood." He growls, bitterness comes to him like air and he lets out a huff through his nostrils, a bitter and sour expression twists onto his face as he thinks of the fact that Ethan nearly murdered him, he thinks to the fact Ethan is going to steal what he worked so hard to get. "Whether you kill her or he does, she'd still be dead. ... You need to just ... let go of it and be grateful he let you live ... besides can't you finally be free out of that woman's grasp?" You say, less bitterness in your voice than before as another painful wince slips from his parted lips, he sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets out a heavy ragged breath. "That's if that fool can kill her. That's why I needed Rose. I needed her power to help me kill her. I needed it." He growls, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration.

"Did you ...? If Ethan nearly killed you then you severely underestimated how powerful he is ... probably can rival Miranda's power or maybe it's ... it's because he loves his daughter so much, it drives him to keep going." You say, your once bitter expression faded into something more dreary as you are reminded of your past, you would've done anything for that child. He scoffs to himself, turning away from you as you stop stitching him up as a truly bitter and painful expression twists onto your beautiful face. You force his face towards your own and gaze deeply into his eyes, you want him to feel, to see the pain that you felt and he did feel it. "You act like it's so terrible to be human ... it's so terrible to fall victim to your emotions ... that man loves his child just like how you loved me. He would've sacrificed anything for that child, he was willing to try and kill you, he was willing to kill Lady Dimitrescu, he was willing to do it all. That's what being human is. That's what's strong, so fucking strong." You exclaim, slowly inhaling a breath into your nostrils as silence quickly fills the air between you both, you can see the realization in his eyes flicker before him and how he softens in a way. Licking your lips, you push him back and hide that urge that was a habit you had, leaning to kiss him whenever your eyes met his whenever you saw how he softened before you. You missed that so much. You didn't say anything more, you go back to stitching up his stomach wound with an unreadable expression on your face, it was a mixture of pain and frustration and Karl saw it but most of all he saw your pain. It reminded him of his own. He would do anything for you. If you wanted him he would take you back in a heartbeat and he was afraid to admit that. Afraid to admit that he was still weak to you, still weak under your human ways that he used to relish in with you and he was afraid of being open, being hurt, being vulnerable, and falling victim to you in case you left him again. In a way you were weak to him too, stubborn as well but more willing to open up to him, to be vulnerable in front of him, willing to take the bait if it meant you would get hurt again. You were almost numb. To it. The pain that he had caused you but it was still there, stinging you at whatever moment it got and you let it become what you see Karl as. Another reminder of your pain, another man willing to sacrifice whatever for a taste of freedom and revenge. But despite that you loved him.

"I apologize for acting like a bitch when I came in here. I just ... I never thought you'd call or need me ever again and I didn't think I needed you either." You say in a somewhat soft breath, you meet his eyes for a few moments before turning your attention back to his wound and he turns towards you, licking his lips before he runs his finger over his bottom lip. "Thank you." He says smartly with a prideful smile soon curling onto his lips before you roll your eyes at him, you bite your tongue to stop any laughter from coming out. "Come on, you have manners don't you Karl? You acted like a bit of a dick too. Or is it too low of Mr. Karl Heisenberg to apologize?" You tease, a natural warm smile curls onto your lips for a few moments, Karl's heart feels light once more and it pulsates in his chest at the once familiar sight he used to see all the time, he missed that smile. Chuckling, he looks down and can feel the bitter irony taste on his tongue begin to fade away slowly but surely it is. "I apologize for acting like a dick earlier. There. That make you happy?" He says, rolling his eyes to himself before you nod with a chuckle soon falling from your lips, your hair had changed, your fashion sense had as well but you were still the same with that warm smile that made him nearly have a heart attack. "Alright, I should be done in a moment ... I'll clean your wound once again and make sure it doesn't get infected ..." You say once more, your tone has returned to its initial seriousness and he sighs to himself, just when he thought you were letting the mask fall, just when he thought things might be going back to normal. "It's fine, do what you have to do ..." He responds, waving his hand in a motion to allow you to keep doing what you were doing. You continued for a few moments longer, trying to stay focused on stitching his wound up but suddenly thoughts starting appearing in your head, what if things could go back to normal? What if you can be free together now? What if you can share happiness with him? Maybe you were an optimistic fool but having hope that things might change between you two is something that you happily looked forward to.

"Alright, I'm done. You shouldn't bleed out and die and ... I'd say try not to fuck up your stitches. But I should be going if I am not of any help to you anymore, Karl ..." You say lowly, reaching out to seize your medkit before he suddenly grabs your wrist, just like the last time you saw him causing you to nearly jump at the sudden grasp on your wrist. He realizes what he's doing from your somewhat distressed expression and lets go of your wrist quickly. "I'm sorry for ... that. But ... I'll probably need more medicine or more care to make sure I don't fuck up my stitches." He rambles, allowing himself to be vulnerable for just another moment, licking his lips his eyes meet yours once again and you see that familiar desperation in his eyes. But this time, you thought what if you stayed and so you set your medkit back down and let a deep breath leave your lips, you somewhat missed the familiar sound of his factory working and working tirelessly. "I hope you aren't planning on stopping Ethan. I'm sorry but it's just fucking stupid ... let him take care of Miranda and let him have Rose then you have what you want. Freedom. Happiness." You exclaim, sitting on the opposite end of the bed beside him with legs resting on the mattress. "I ... I want to. ... Miranda has caused so much pain, so much agony to me ... she doesn't see me as her son, nor will I ever see her as a mother. She's just ... she's just a crazy bitch who decided to steal a fucking baby and hope it could be a vessel for her fucking precious little Eva." He growls bitterly, a sour expression twists onto his face as he crosses his arms, still bitter to the core and revenge is still tainting his mind, no thought of freedom or happiness crossed his mind. Just Miranda. "I know. All she cares about is finding a body for Eva ... but you could finally be happy away from that crazy ass woman. Besides ... this plan has already been a huge failure." You exclaim in a gentle sigh, licking your lips before taking in a breath and so many memories flood back to your brain whenever you stare at something. Even this bed has so many memories.

"I ... I haven't failed. Besides blame Ethan for ruining an otherwise amazing plan. So much for working together." He spat, rolling his eyes at the thought that he was possibly bested by a mere human makes his blood boil. "This plan has nearly cost you your life and cost you a chance at even getting a sliver of freedom." You explain, another sigh leaves your lips as you stare down at the mattress beneath you, silence fills the room once more because Karl's pride won't allow him to see that maybe he had failed in his plan. "You even lost me ..." You muttered lowly almost in a whisper but Karl heard it and his expression twisted from bitter to disheartened and remorseful. "Look, I get that I hurt you and I hate it. But I needed to do it ... I needed to try and get rid of her! Get some kinda control over my own fucking life! I am done with being another experiment for her to use for her wishes! I ... I just want to be free ..." He exclaims, all manner of emotion is pouring out of him and seeping through his mask of charm, taking in a slow shaky breath as his throat tightens and memories flicker of his family, his real family. His mother, her warm smile that is reminiscent of yours, her warm comfy hugs and just remembering it had tears traveling down his cheeks as he clenched his jaw firmly. Your expression softened at the sight before you, a saddened and pitiful frown curls onto your lips as you can sense his pain, he really lost his life to being Miranda's experiment, to being her slave. A soft breath leaves your lips and you rest your hand upon his shoulder, expressing comfort as he inhales another shaky breath, pain is what became of him and he tried to fix himself only to become more broken.

"Karl, listen to me ... you're allowed to be happy ... you're allowed to smile, allowed to be angry, you're allowed to be happy." You coo, your words are gentle but powerful and your eyes are sincere, warm, and delicate to his eyes. He turns to you, eyes slightly puffy and an expression of pain is twisted on his face, letting a gentle breath when he looks at you, when he gazes into your eyes for a few moments, he's reminded of happiness, he's reminded of warmth, he's reminded of love and family. He still loves you. His eyebrows furrow before he wraps his arms around you, clinging to you desperately as he buries his face into you, still pain torments him when he can and it destroys his life. It destroyed his relationship with you, it destroyed everything around him and it almost destroyed him, he would've sacrificed everything just for freedom, just to have his life be his own. He sees it now, it comes to him painfully raw and honest and he almost hates it because of how he hurt you, the one damn good thing in his shitty miserable life. "I hurt you. I fucking hurt you and you came back for me? I ... I don't fuckin' deserve you ... at all ..." He exclaims, his words muffled into the fabric of your clothes as he can feel your arms wrap around him, your hands gently massage him and the simple gesture puts him at peace and ease. "I came back because as much as you hurt me ... you don't deserve this, Karl ... despite how I left you, I still care so much about you. Hell, when it's you I listen to my heart rather than my fucking brain. With you, it's different ... with you, I could never forget you. At all." You confessed with a soft sigh leaving your lips at the end of your words, your hands move to his long untamed grey and brown locks, you gently run your fingers through his locks and you nearly chuckle at the unique texture of his hair. "I didn't either, butterfly ... I hurt you and I see how I fucking hurt you, hell I didn't care if you left me I was still going to continue to plan despite how it hurt you. I'm an asshat. I wouldn't want to remember me if I did that." He exclaims, a gentle smile curls onto his lips as he stares up at you with a familiar smile that warms your heart, it leaves it jumping in your chest and leaves your stomach with butterflies.

"It's good that you see that and I hate that hurt you too ... I know that I left feeling so bad, so bitter about this whole fucking plan ... but this plan the only good thing it brought to you was bringing me to find your nearly dead ass." You chuckle, a wide smile curls onto your lips as a peaceful and joyful expression is plastered onto your face, another chuckle leaves your lips as a warm familiar smile remains on your lips. He can't stop himself from smiling as well, savoring these moments you share of nothing but pure joy, and he can't help but cup both sides of your cheeks. His fingers gently caress your cheeks, his smile warms your heart and your soul and the familiar sensation of his hands against your cheeks made you melt before him. Silence fills the room as he admires you, your beautiful features, and everything along with it. "Out of everyone in the world, I could never hate you ..." He chuckles almost like a giggly child at a toy store, a wide smile remains plastered on his face and his soul is singing, calling out for you and his heart thrashes wildly in his ribcage. You let out a gentle breath and suddenly his lips are pressed gently against yours, your stomach is crowed and flooded with butterflies, your heart is pulsating in your chest, and everything is calling out to Karl. Moments after, he pulls away from your lips with a somewhat worried expression on his face, he questions was he moving too fast, did you not want him but his thoughts are put to stop when your lips collide passionately against his. It came to you so naturally and once the thought appeared in your head, your heart followed along with it along with your body, and here you were passionately kissing the man who you hadn't seen in over 6 months. He groans against your lips, savoring and relishing the familiar sensations that came as his eyes flutter close, he was such a fool, such a fool to not see that he was risking the only thing that mattered for a chance at even getting freedom. He was but a child ...

Groaning against his lips as you began to clutch a fistful of his hair, the kiss quickly grew deeper and more heated, heavy breaths left both your lips as you gently devoured each other's lips, greedy for the sensations it brought you both. Groaning into your mouth once more, Karl's hands slip your jacket off of you, he throws it to the floor and buries his lips into your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin earning a soft gasp from your lips at the sharp sensation. "Karl ..." You say in a ragged breath, hands still entangled in his locks of hair as he continues to kiss and suck on your neck, your body begins to heat up with arousal and your body begins to ache for Karl. "Damn ... I just can't get enough of you, can I?" He chuckles, grinning devilishly at you as his eyes glance at your lips once again, he pulls you into another heated kiss that has his tongue prying your lips apart. His tongue enters your mouth, his tongue grinds against yours and your tongues begin to dance erotically together causing both of you to moan against each other's lips at the tingling sensations that spread across your tongues. Karl's arousal begins to show with the bulge that swells in his pants, he continues to kisses you, moaning and groaning at the overdue sensation of a warm body against his. Pulling away from your lips, heavy ragged breaths leave both of your lips and he can't help but notice your flushed cheeks as a breathless expression remains on your face. "Do you want this ...? Do you want me, (Y/N) ...?" He asks in a ragged breath, his hand cups one of your cheeks, as he gazes intensely into your eyes, lust, and desire, clouded those beautiful eyes of yours and it was one of his favorite expressions on your face. "I want you so much ... I want nothing but you and your naked body to be mine ..." You answer, smirking devilishly at the man before you as a low chuckle soon leaves your lips, grinning widely at you he kisses your lips once again, cherishing the smooth and delicate feeling of your lips.

"Mmh, your lips feel amazing, darling ... I missed all of this, the kisses, the touches, the way you worship me ... I missed it all so much." He purrs lustfully as a chuckle soon follows after, taking in a breath he pushes you onto your back earning a gasp from you before he gets in between your legs. He stares at the tank top you wore, it hugged your body perfectly, and hell it exposed a lot of skin, though it was basic it was enough for him. You'll always be enough for him and more. "Arms up, darling ..." He chirps, you raise your arms, and off comes your tank top and your torso was immediately met with multiple kisses and bright hickeys that decorated your skin. Wrapping your arms around his chest, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, he lightly sucks on one as his other hand explores your torso, caressing your skin gently and with care. Your heart is thrashing, pounding in your ribcage, and heat floods through your being, arousal comes with that and it leaves you aching so terribly with a need for sweet release. Heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, licking your lips as you can only think of Karl, what he was going to do to you, what you were going to do to him. He takes your nipple out of his mouth, trailing kisses down your stomach as he gets lower and lower until he reaches your bothersome pants, letting out a growl he harshly pulls your pants down and throws them somewhere before he immediately buries his face into your crotch. His tongue moves gently, caressing all your sweet spots as the heat begins to boil up deep inside of you, you relished and savored the moist heat that caressed you in such amazing ways. Moaning against you, his hands wrap around your thighs to keep you from moving too much but he thought it was all about making you feel better, tonight was all about what you wanted, whatever you wanted you will have it. "Oh, Karl ...! Hah ... shit ... shit ..." You moan shamelessly, your hands clutch and grasp at his long locks of hair as heavy breaths are pried from your lips along with whispers of his name falling from those beautiful lips of yours. "Enjoying it, darling ... am I being good for you? Am I a good boy? Tell me I'm a good boy, kitten ..." He purrs erotically, his words roll gracefully off his tongue before he buries his tongue back into you, kissing, licking, and sucking on all of your sweet spots. "Good boy ...! Oh, so good ... fuck I missed your mouth so much ..." You whine needily, clutching at the sheets beneath you as you lick your lips, waves, and waves of heated ecstasy washes over you in sharp and powerful waves.

"That's it ...! Fuck, don't stop ... don't stop fucking me with that tongue of yours ...!" You cry out in a series of moans that are soon followed by ragged breaths, you grind your hips against his mouth eager and aching for some form of release, eager for more of the ecstasy he gives you. But he suddenly stops as he can barely hold himself back from taking you right here and right now, he begins to unzip his pants and fights to get them off. An annoyed expression twists onto your face as you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, grabbing him by his shoulders and turning him around towards the bed as you push him onto the bed with a devilish grin. "It's my turn, love ..." You chuckle as you begin to straddle his lap with your arms pressed into his chest and you begin to take him inside of you as a heavy breathless moan of his name leaves your lips the moment his thick cock fills you. It throbs and twitches inside of you, making you nearly jump at the sensation before you take all of his thick throbbing cock inside of you, the way he fills you is like no other, his cock stretches you and fills you perfectly. The way your walls clung and hugged his thick throbbing cock drove him insane, a heavy groan left his lips at the tight heat that surrounded and embraced his throbbing cock. "Oh, fucking hell ...! Shit ... so damn tight and ... hot ... come on, darling ride me nice and hard. Leave me at your mercy ..." He purrs devilishly as a long chuckle soon follows after, lust clouds his remarkable green eyes, his hands reach up to cup your flushed cheeks as a warm joyful smile curls onto his lips. You smile back at him, joy washing over you like a breeze as you rested your hands upon his shoulders and began to chase eagerly and joyfully after your sweet and euphoric release. Your hips grind and roll against his lap, heavy breaths are pried from your lips as heat begins to build and rise through your body, Karl's heavy ragged breaths can be heard along with yours as he wraps his arms around your neck. A low "fuck" leaves his parted lips as his eyelashes weigh heavy on top of his shut eyelids, sharp electric sensations of bliss shot through him every time your hips went lower. Burying his teeth into his bottom lip, a heavy groan leaves his lips at the blissful heat that envelopes his throbbing eager cock, all he can do is stare in awe at your expressions of bliss and ecstasy. It's so amazing.

"Mmh, baby ... you're so goddamn beautiful ... so exquisite. Come on, tell me how much you love me ... show me how much you've missed me ..." He purrs with a devilish smile on his lips, biting his lips soon afterward he places his hands on your hips gently moving them back and forth just to speed things up a bit. Your cheeks quickly become flushed at his words as you lightly squeeze onto his shoulders, heavy breaths still leaving your parted lips as you begin to throw your hips up and down onto his thick throbbing cock. It presses and drives into you eagerly, lightly hitting your sweet spot causing whines of Karl's name to be pried from your lips, licking your lips you entangle Karl into another heated passionate kiss that is so full of tenderness and consideration. "Karl ...! F-fuck ...!" You whine needily as you pull away from his lips, your eyes flutter at the bliss that courses through you as the heat floods through you. Your teeth grind against your bottom lip gently before you begin to slam your hips down onto his throbbing cock that perfectly curled onto your sweet spot as it repeatedly hits that sweet spot making his name fall from your lips again and again. "Oh! Karl ...! Mmh, Karl ...! It's so fuckin good, Karl ...!" You moan breathlessly, throwing your head back at the ecstasy that washes over you in burning relentless waves, skin hitting against skin echoed through his bedroom as your moans and heavy breaths are Karl's melody. Groaning deeply, his hands move lower onto your ass cheeks, wrapping his fingers around the area he lightly squeezes them with a chuckle following after, it's not a minute before he's nearly arching his back and a long whine is pried from his throat. "Fucking hell, sweetheart ...! Ooh, hah ...!" He whines deeply as waves and waves of ecstasy washed over him, he couldn't be happier and everything in his being felt like it could cry of joy. "Karl ... I'm gonna ... oh fuck ... fuck ... gonna c-cum!" You manage to say, heavy breaths fill your throat and your heart thrashes and pounds erratically in your chest, thighs tremble and shake against his legs, and your entire body throbs and aches. "Kiss me, oh please kiss me ... tell me how much you love me ..." Karl rambles in a series of heavy breaths as he wraps his arms around your torso, leaning in for another heated kiss as you continue to slam your hips down as hard as you can moaning shamelessly against his lips. Your entire body trembles and pulsates erratically as you had boiled over, heat travels through you along with sweet sweet ecstasy that left you nearly screaming his name against his lips. Pulling away from his lips as heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, you gaze intensely, it's not moments before your name falls breathlessly from his parted lips and his expression of joy quickly fades into one of ecstasy and relief. Sharp powerful sensations of ecstasy shot through him relentlessly as began to cling to you, wrapping his arms around you clinging to you and to what for a second feels so much like a damn dream.

Wrapping your arms around him, you find serenity in his cool embrace and you find serenity in the idea that things are gonna be okay, that things are gonna change from today to hopefully years from now. You smile into his embrace before pulling out of his embrace, moments later as you gaze into each other's eyes once more, passion and warmth clouded his green eyes. That look in his eyes like he was just so ... happy and like you're the one thing that matters in his erratic and wild world. "So ... Karl, what's next for us? ... After Miranda is dead and all that bullshit ...?" You question with a curious smile resting upon your lips, you rest in his embrace and he can't help but chuckle at your words. "Whatever it is that is next for you ... whether it's fucking staying here or leaving for better places ... you go and I'll follow." He answers warmly and confidently as a chuckle soon follows after his words. "Oh, so I made you my loyal dog, have I?" You chuckle, beaming at the man before you as he can't help but chuckle once more at your words. "In a way, yes you have ... made me weak for you ... made me unafraid to be myself around you. ... You are incredibly special to me, butterfly ..." He says in a gentle breath, smiling warmly at you as you can't help but flush different shades of red at his words. "You're even more special ... I love you more than you will ever know Karl ... and I've loved you all this time ... I hope I will never stop loving you. That no matter how bad things get that we will get through it together." You exclaim in pure joy as you both end up smiling sheepishly at each other before you rest your head in the nape of his neck and he wraps his arms around, hoping for a more optimistic and brighter future than he could've ever imagined.

#resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenburg x reader #smut #re: village #resident evil #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg smut #karl heisenberg x you #gender neutral y/n

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marty101sblog · 3 years

Text

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a

class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told

his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever

wrote.." It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving

home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen Pierce Road in

Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck

unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family

portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think

we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of

the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life

after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see

him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.

There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with

small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list

titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which

stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction,

had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to

catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and

began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that

I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I

knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my

life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a

detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled

with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and

exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense

of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if

anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The

titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read,"

"Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some

were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my

brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger",

"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be

surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I

hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could

it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these

thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.

Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the

files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet

after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it,

shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew

that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through

my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size

and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal

rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these

cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane

frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it

and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the

floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out

a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my

forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it... The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel with."

The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer, almost unused. I

pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell

into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They

started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I

cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file

shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this

room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the

tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as

He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His

response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw

a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read

every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He

looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger

me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things.

But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of

the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over

mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say

was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these

cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The

name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took

the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't

think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it

seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up,

and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were

still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God

so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him

shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it

so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the

gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did

or not, but what do you feel in your heart? .....I pulled this from my other page. Please feel free to share this❤

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amindofstone · 3 years

Text

An innocent heart

a/n: To the following little work of mine I would like to say a few words.

I really don´t know why exactly I wrote this or what exactly made me think of it. But the need to forget everything around me. The need to be able to forget all of my worries. The need to just leave everything behind and just walk into the world and enjoy a careless and happy life without the pressure of society and the future with every day passing is growing. What does it truly mean to be happy? I don´t know but I really would like to know. I really would love to know what it feels like wake up and without having to think of all the things that need to be done before chaos breaksout.

This might sound like I am ungrateful and don´t know how to appreciate what I have but trust me when I say that I do. I am thankful for every think god gave me and everything my parents did for me and will do in the future. But still it´s just that I kind of feel suffocated by everything at the moment. But again I am thankful for being able to live a save life without the fear of war, hunger, poverty and illness. I am thankful and so should you. Appreciate the little things in life. Appreciate the things you have as long as you have them before it´s to late and sorrow and regret take over your hearts and minds.

Genre: Kpop imagine?

Rating: Fluff? Romance?

Words: 369

Pairings: Kim Hongjong x reader (gender neutral)

Info: I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes since English is my third language and I am still trying to improve in every aspect. Please have mercy on that. Thank you.

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Ask me if this is shared or published in any other way or platform. Please respect me and my work. Translating my work is not allowed. Please respect my decision as the author. Picture is not mine. Credits to the rightful owner. Thank you. !!!

With an innocent heart I walked through life finding beauty in the most simple things.

With a smile as genuine as the one a child gives their mother I walked through the path fate prepared for me.

With an innocent curiosity and the dream to see as much from the world as I could I sometimes let myself get lead on different paths by my companion called best friend.

With an innocent laughter and a raging wish I let her pull me from one place to another, not knowing that it would cause me to bump into him.

Not knowing what would happen I apologized and pulled him along and called him friend.

With an innocent heart and the mindset to spread joy and laughter I held his hand.

I held his hand.

Held him close.

I watched him smile and watched him cry thinking it was me who had the lead in life.

Thinking it was me who choose the place to go when in reality it was him who held my hand and showed me not only the world and the beauty of life. But also the beauty of the purest essence called love.

I wonder.

I wonder when he took my feather in his hand and wrote his name at the center of my heart. I wonder when he opened the gates to the throne hall to take a seat on the throne called heart. I wonder when he called for me to enter a place I used to call mine. I wonder when he placed me in his arms to keep us warm.

I wonder if he wants to stay for as long as eternity exists.

I wonder if meeting him was fate or just a gift. A gift by life so I could learn all its beauty no matter if it was day or night.

I wonder and think until he come and approaches me again and says “Stop thinking and close your eyes and focus on the story the world tells us. And when it´s done look at me because then I will be telling you the story of a man that fell in love with the purest soul the world ever held.”

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hufflautia · 3 years

Text

Believe me darling, the stars were made for falling

Hello! I didn’t expect to post this “fanfic” because I didn’t write it specifically for fanfiction, if that makes sense. Today, (well it is technically tomorrow for you or perhaps you’re not viewing this on the day that I posted it. today is 12/11 (technically its 12/12 because its 1:39 AM rn lmao i did my makeup and it took longer than expected)) my creative writing teacher told us to write a short piece for a character that I created for the class. I wrote it and I thought about posting it because I liked the idea of it, and I felt as though the main character had slytherin vibes. I also really like the ending, and I wanted to share it with others.

This is not a typical slytherpuff story. It has no magic involved. Slytherin and Hufflepuff are normal people like you and me, aka muggles (or maybe you’re not a muggle( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) who knows?). The story has nothing to do with Harry Potter. Thus, I am creating another section for my masterlist and it will be labeled “somefink special” because its not technically harry potter related. However, it will always have Hufflepuff and Slytherin in it, because I made sure to change the names from the original character. Stories like this is just a work of art that I would like to share with others, so I think of it as somefink special (and somefink is not an actual word, its supposed to be “something” but i just think the spelling is funny). I’m not sure if I will post more stuff like this, as in stuff that doesn’t relate to harry potter but still has my usual characters. Heck, perhaps I’ll write fanfics like this but for other character ships like Slytherin x Ravenclaw or the other ones. We shall see.

Anyways, this “quick” author’s note is running a little long, so I will end it here. I hope you guys enjoy reading this! TOODELOO

FYI, this is not my “monthly” fanfic. In other words, this isn’t the only fanfic that I will be posting for december. I will still be posting The Queen and the Dragon soon (around Christmas). I am almost done with the college process, I need to revise some of my essays and I will finally submit it. After that, I will continue writing the long story. I am currently stuck at a difficult scene that will require a lot of thinking, hence the delay. OK BYE NOW, THIS IS THE FOR-REALSIES TOODELOO :D!

***WARNINGS: Drug abuse, addiction, and suicidal thoughts

Summary: Slytherin is hanging out with her favorite person in the entire world: Hufflepuff, her darling little sister. They lay beneath the stars, comfortable silence drifting upon them like a soft blanket that wraps around them, keeping them safe from outside forces that threaten their moment of contentment. This small pocket of tranquility is rare—and Slytherin knows this. She knows it all too well. As if on cue, it breaks into shattered pieces when she overhears their parents arguing. Again. Dread stealing her breath, a familiar urge rises once more, an urge that is more destructive than she realizes. She wishes the overwhelming feeling of anxiety would go away. And it could—with the help of a couple of pills.

Slytherin smiled, a feeling of mirth warming her heart when she saw the smile plastered on her sister’s face as they laid on their backs against the porch floor, staring up at the stars. She took a hold of Hufflepuff’s hand, her touch slightly sweaty but cold at the same time. She didn’t mind and merely gave it a light squeeze. A cool night breeze blew past them, the wind’s touch like gentle kisses against their skin.

This was nice. This was really nice. Slytherin hardly had any time for herself this week, because she was busy with exam after exam, stress piling on top of her before she could even take a breath of air. To her relief, the burdens finally lifted because it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to worry about school. She was with her sister, and that was all she needed. In fact, she was so comfortable and content that she didn’t even think about the drugs. A pestilent part of her, the part that was created the moment she swallowed the white pill down her throat, urged her to go inside. To walk nonchalantly towards the bathroom with a pace that was fast enough so that she would get to where she wanted to go quickly but slow enough to not attract any attention. To snatch her mom’s bottle of Xanax and hurry to her own room, making sure to lock the door before sitting on her bed. To pop the drug into her mouth and allow the artificial feeling of euphoria to overtake her.

But that destructive part of her settled down, for she was with the person she loved most. Their surroundings dark enough to see the hazy glow of the stars above, they laid there, gazing upon the night sky. Aside from the soft rustling of the trees nearby and the occasional giggles that spilled from her sister’s mouth because that’s just how 10-year-olds were, it was quiet and peaceful.

But like most things, it didn’t last for long.

“You fucking asshole!”

Through the walls, Slytherin could hear her mother’s muffled words, her tone hot and angry. Whenever her parents argued, they would spit curse words out like poison, the dreadful toxin targeted at each other with the intent to kill and destroy.

She sighed. For once, just for once, why couldn’t things be normal? She desperately wished that the comfortable silence that drifted upon them could come back, and she would gladly welcome it with open arms.

However, she felt Hufflepuff squeeze her hand, and she knew that the peace that she had known a few minutes ago would not return. Not for a while. Squeezing her hand was a nervous habit of Hufflepuff’s—a habit that Slytherin was well aware of. Even if she tried her very best to shield her darling sibling from the atrociousness of their home-life, it was essentially impossible.

Her sister was young and so terribly innocent. If she could, she would take all the pain that Hufflepuff endured from living in a dysfunctional household and pour it into herself. That way, she wouldn’t have to suffer.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. Slytherin didn’t have magical powers to take their suffering away. She couldn’t give her sister the happy ending that she deserved. This was reality, and they would just have to endure this for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered before opening the porch door and stepping into the dungeon that she called home. Dread seemed to choke her as she neared her parents’ room, inhaling sharply at the sound of shouts that seemed to boom from the walls.

Gingerly turning the knob of their door, she peeked inside. Tears trickled down her mother’s face, her slightly red eyes ablaze with anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on me again!”

Her dad started to mutter something lowly but she cut him off. “Do you have any idea how much this affects me,” she said in disbelief. “How much this affects your children?”

She suddenly caught sight of Slytherin, who immediately felt a sinking feeling in her chest when she was caught lurking. The feeling intensified when her mom walked towards her.

Slytherin immediately withdrew and tried to close the door but her mom opened it enough to fixate the full force of her anger onto her daughter. “Why can’t you mind other people’s business,” she hissed before slamming the door shut, leaving her in complete darkness.

There it was. The breaking point. Her face contorted into a grimace as she tried to will the tears away. Her sadness quickly morphed into annoyance. “I hate her,” she thought angrily as she walked to her room. “She’s gonna wish she didn’t say that when she finds me dead on the fucking floor.” Her chest heaved with sorrow and a torrent of emotions clashed within her. A million thoughts zoomed through her head. Fucking bitch, I fucking hate you. I hate everything. I wish I was never born into this family. I hate my parents, I hate my mom, I hate my dad. Why the fuck did he have to cheat? Were we not enough?

She was frustrated and resentful, but most of all, she was broken inside. She needed to calm the raging storm of anxiety within her—and she knew exactly what to do.

Hiding the bottle of Xanax in her pocket, she walked towards her room. Just as she was opening her door, she felt someone close their hand over her wrist. She looked back and saw Hufflepuff, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Are you coming back,” she asked in a small voice.

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. If things had gone differently, she would have gone back to the porch with her sister and continued their night of stargazing. If her parents weren’t completely psychos whose hate for each other shook the household, she wouldn’t be addicted to the drugs that controlled her life.

“I have homework to do,” she responded. “Ask Gryffindor to go outside with you, okay?”

Her sister nodded and started her way to their other sister who decided not to join them on the porch because she had cooler 13-year old things to do.

Slytherin watched her retreating figure before closing the door and twisting the lock in a flash. She exhaled slowly as she took a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Finally,” she breathed out in a whisper as she uncapped the bottle, gently shaking it so that a couple of tablets spilled out onto her hand. She had never taken so much, and she knew that as she poked the contents with a finger. But she needed this. Her family—more specifically, her parents—were fucked up, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t fix her father’s constant infidelity. She couldn’t control her mother’s temper. Hell, she couldn’t even take hold of her own life, for the white rectangular capsules held the reins, the power. And she would gladly let it take control. Just for a little while longer.

Slytherin tossed the pills into her mouth and took a sip of water to ease them down her throat. She fell back onto her bed with her arms spread out on either side of her, forming a crooked ‘T’ shape. As she stared up at the ceiling, a blissful smile slid onto her face.

She could see the stars again.

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold!

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link linked to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already :D

Author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I hope you enjoyed reading that. The story is dark and sad, so I will include some wholesome pictures to rid you of the lingering sadness that you might be feeling right now.

you can probably tell that i’m a dog person lmao :’) I hope you are feeling better! I am not sure if I will turn this into a series; there is a chance I will because I will have to continue writing stories in english class for this character. i actually have another story for the character (her name is Faye) and idk if I should post it. Let me know if you want me to release it!

Did anyone else feel slytherin vibes from... well, slytherin? Technically it’s Faye, but I changed the name for the purpose of posting. In my opinion, the slytherin in her is presented in the fact that she cares a lot about her sister, aka Hufflepuff, and slytherins typically care a lot about those close to them. it was also shown in the sense that she isolates herself, but then again, anyone can isolate themself, regardless of their hogwarts house. maybe im just overthinking this. After all, if I had changed the name from Faye to Hufflepuff, that could still work as well.

In fact, I might even change the names sometimes, depending on what is happening in that moment. Faye is pansexual, and I was talking to my friend about the story, and she said maybe she’ll get a gf, so maybe ill keep Faye’s name as Slytherin and have Hufflepuff (DIFFERENT HUFFLEPUFF FROM THE LITTLE SISTER OF COURSE) be the girlfriend?? idk, we’ll see.

Anyways, let me know what you thought of this fanfic. Should I do more like this, as in post my future works that arent actually related to harry potter but is set in the real world?

OH GOSH BEFORE I FORGET, THANK YOU FOR 700!! I guess this will be my thank you present, because I like to write fanfics as a present whenever I hit a follower mark. I intended The Queen and The Dragon to be the thank-you present for 600, but we are well past that, and the fanfic is long overdue. I had planned to change the fanfic to “thank you for 700” but i plan on posting it near christmas, so i will consider it as a “MERRY CHRISTMAS, HERES A FANFIC:D”.

As always, I appreciate you very very much. Thank you for reading this and being caring enough to do so. I appreciate that very very very much, and I am sending you some gucci vibes! It is currently 2:34 am and i should get some sleep. goodnight! love you all! BYE

TAGS:

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @lokijiro @xxkitsurikaxx @sara-is-boredd @skylee-skz @determinedpines @draco22malfoy @pancakes-and-sugar @casteel08 @indigosimon1998 @tell-that-to-my-feather @the-ugly-duck0 @prettyblueskylark @okiguessimawitchnow @daisyinmyheart @peachyblue @korra4321 @shoyoockbby @ravenflowersposts @walkinganomaly @parkerthemarker02 @hummingbird-hufflepuff @bumbblebeeeeee @luciferswife16 @iknow-im-cute @maisen98 @shadowsinger11 @tuonglam03 @fanfic-reblogger @mygc0re @rellasworld @sha3thehunter @croctusjuice @jadefox05 @d0uxs @charleii @kaylenthegreat @nekuneku13 @hufflepufflepukwudgie3897 @insertlongnamehere @trashpannda @ihate-myname @nowheredreamer @history-geek101 @strawberrypanda99 @nikkijovanic @hannanshi @sirenofthe7seas @johannamariemst @badass-like-damon @mybreadstickbabe @willow-salix @remmyswritings @x-whatsupdoc-x @dracosvftie @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @akerlizzie @thatfann @justanxiousme @another-witch @bucinjisung @elegantcroissantplaidpony @treefroggo @narritydream @hufflpuffles @adreameratdawn @leftpeanutturtleegg @turbulentbluebird5 @geekgirl69 @praiseourlordduck @quakemebacktothe50s @nomad-of-the-realms @stardustzainy @theblackwolf21 @crakencc @introvertedrae @cryinbisexual @bojelina @cocoqueenstheword @manicpixiedreamtarot @velvetstrawberry @jxmpsuitx @simpering-simpleton @urfaveslytherin @asterinatlas @simpforkpop @pufflehuff929 @morallyambiguoussimp @applekenm @chunwest @oncergleekpotterhead @no1-importan @qiaopao @dulduldoldul @schlongbottom @vickeyunicorn @peanut-in-the-goal @hufflepuffgirly @flvrqnce @nothingtoseehere812 @maxwellsgang @1d-killed-me @betacaroteno-lanudo @dragon-slayer-fairy1 @thatonebislytherin @dragonsandbread @justanotherperson @sophiexteresa @hmilkwhoney @writertwiddle @questionsbecameourocean @anomiatartle @coldsweetharmony @dont-hyuck @fixstationed @kindawannadietbh @trippy-morgan @xo-angel-ox @fangirlgeekandfreak @evolnura @mossy-axolotl @verylovelystars @boilyourteeth @megand2017 @malfoys-demigod @booksntings @joshirlangford @staymoarmyzen @poojxshxh @hedgepuffgirl @alverniaphi @verifiefangirl-mainblog @purpleskymalfoy @roxy3457 @rayanicaraynbow @jess-harrywars @starrysonic @tonksichu @lauxtbs @tumlbr-trasher @chelseasosa @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @swagangelhorsepickle @princessstoopid @pymmoon @emilyaneliperry @pond-waterr @pandapillow @saraleo95 @astrartss @trentalexanders @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @nevilletheplantboi @just--another--hufflepuff @yoongifiess @ajdqueen @annie-mcl @coloring-bud @majorfangirl37 @eatacrackerandstop @weasleytwinswheezes @imscaredofhorses @dontmindmeimjustabox @glitterykidlightmug @multi-fandom-nutjob @littleemotionalpanda @thewitcheswords @blueberry-9-pancakes @worldsbestdilfbecky @qixnsriess @inexperiencedpotathoe @notsowiseravenclaw @captiniminnie @ruinyourface @da-fox-rangerrr @inkedintothepaper @happy-puff @grandcyclecreation @dawinehouse @catiwisspuff @aasa2102 @mae-25 @sydthekidd98 @kokichismango @xxavaloraxx @iamahufflepuff @adoregin @sunnniiee @lewispoolerpayton @dumbbitch85 @bumblebirbs @diggorycullen @protectorofsk8topia @silverhetdanes @zuko-28 @beardedhumanoid @arianatorpotterhead @shipping-book-keeper @marvelenthusiast10 @i-cannot-do-aesthetics @a-huffleing-lesbean @kaslec @hufflepuffwritess @mouthfacereborn @kodeinekissss @ihavenocontrolofmylifeeither @pinqgchuu @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @clementines-x @stressy-depressy @sweetinvisiblewriter @absentmindeduniverse @asnowpuff @theofficialgaybestfriend @incorrect-spooktubers @violayaxley @sunshinyyb @colettedelaurel @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @i-have-a-bad-feeling @jpow345 @haechanstwin @gay-disaster826 @bloodyxheaven @autumnpleaves @froggy-failure @toomanybandstocare @pink1babez @untitled-2424 @sleepdeprivedgurl @chaseanders @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @nugnugchick @queenofwordsandnerds @ganjeolhiddaeng @wordy-escapades @writtenfoxscreams @w0odr0ses @coolpetsmcubandit @crypticcandi @widowsgranger @fantasyprincess101 @wiiltedflowers @aestheticworldd @miniaturefunnytraveldonkey @bucketofdeadroses @uwuplsh @softedits-exe @cel3stialone @sofiapeachyy @wanderaven92 @eunnieah @marsupialsgotbloodyears @eurydicedior @neonuzumaki @uhhhem

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 9*

So....did y'all like that cliffhanger?

Because...HAHAHA JK THAT'S NOT THE ENDING.

No, but actually...it was the original ending, but the original ending ended up being REALLY short. So, I wrote an ALTERNATE ending, that actually I really would prefer being the ACTUAL ending, but it had to go a different direction BEFORE the cliffhanger, so....you see my dilemma.

SO---

Here's what we're gonna do:

I'm going to put the ORIGINAL ending first, and then space it out, and put the ALTERNATE [better tbh] ending.

That way, you can have both. And I don't have to backtrack to undo my mistake due to my ADHD brain changing things 24/7.

Kay? Cool.

Also no neither of these are the ACTUAL ending, I refuse to have an odd number of chapters. REFUSE. So chapter 10 will be like an epilogue. Don't look at me like that.

Tag List

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@aprildecker-blog

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@objection-argumentative

Part 10 (Epilogue is here!)

(This Gif is For the FIRST ending, there's a 2nd GIF that would be SPOILERS.)

Short Simple Ending #1

Raphael sat in his loft drinking scotch, for which he had done most of the day. He wasn't dressed, he hadn’t showered, he was a mess. He didn't know if he could ever come out of this. He sat there wallowing in his regret and sorrow, going over every interaction you two had ever had in your entire lives of knowing each other pinpointing everything he could have done differently. What he should have done differently, and the fact that if he had, you'd be there with him right now instead of getting married to someone you didn't love. He's just in the middle of chastising himself again when he heard a knock at the door.

“Liv, I told you I don't need your help; You can't help me right now!” he yelled to the door

“It's not Liv…”your voice came softly through the door.

His eyes lit up, he raced to the door and threw it open. Revealing you and your wedding dress, sopping wet.

“Well I hope you're happy!” you stomped into his apartment angrily.

“...What would I be happy about? Where is your husband? He asked half jokingly.

“I Don't HAVE a husband,” you spat.

“Really now?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No, I don't. And you just made me humiliate a poor, generous, loving, caring, amazing man. And I just dumped him in front of all of his friends and family, and in front of a million fans on a live stream and now everyone knows and I'm probably laughing stock right now!!!” you screamed angrily, pacing the apartment.

“I did all that?” He smirked.

“Yes, you did!” you crossed your arms as you walked back to him.

“And how did I do that?” He took both of your hands and pulled you closer, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“By telling me you love me!!!” you kept your angry face stoic. “How could I marry Nathan when I knew that I was supposed to be with someone else?”

“You couldn't,” He smiled.

“I couldn't…” You whispered as he pulled you even closer and took you in his arms.

“I love you Rafael,” you looked right into his big green eyes. It was the first time you had actually said it to him in those exact words, with all the love and emotion you had always meant it to be.

He stared at you for a moment, running through the words in his mind. He had yelled them so angrily and upset at you last night, not the way you needed. Not the way you deserved.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, cradling your face before pulling you into another mind blowing kiss; it had only been the second time you had ever kissed in your lives but it felt like you had done it a million times, like it was supposed to be this way. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

You were so glad you stayed through the storm.

-----

Actual" Really Long, Detailed, Funny Ending #2

-----

"But you don't love him,'' Rafael pointed out.

"You don't know that!" You snapped.

"Yes I do!" He shot back.

“How could you possibly know that?”

"Because you have never looked at him the way you look at me!" He exclaimed.

Your face went from upset and sad, to absolute rage after hearing him say that.

"You arrogant, selfish, son of a bitch…" you growled.

"How DARE you say that to me?! How DARE you use my own feelings and how much I loved you against me? Get out," You grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

"No look I'm sorry Y/N, but it's true. You don't love him and you're only marrying him to spite me!" He continued to dig himself a hole.

"So what?!” You said without thinking, making you both go wide eyed and silent.

“Are-- Are you serious?” He stammered.

“What if I was?” You now had an idea reeling.

“Wha...why would you…?” His eyes narrowed.

“Let’s say that I don’t believe you right now, which I don’t. And I kick you out of here, and I go through with my wedding in the morning? After ALL of this?” You gestured between the two of you.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Rafael asked as he eyed the two empty bottles of champagne.

"Don't even-- Maybe," You stood in front of the view of the bottles. You waved it off, trying to focus.

“What if I told you that the ONLY way that I will believe that you are completely serious and NOT just drunk, is if you try and stop my wedding?” You smirked.

“You’re not--” Rafael started to laugh, but you kept a serious face on. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know Rafael, I guess we’ll see tomorrow who’s ‘serious’ and who’s not!” You slammed the door in his face, leaving him dumbfounded.

-------------

The next day you were in the bridal room getting ready; It was pouring rain outside, it seemed appropriate.

Amanda, Kelsey and Olivia were helping you polish your tiara, ironing your dress, fixing your makeup and all that jazz. Hundreds of fans lined outside the church since someone had leaked where you were getting married. Everything came down to this moment. It was supposed to be the biggest day of your life, and you were terrified. But not for the reasons normal brides would be worried about. For one you were hungover, and for two you had made the most idiotic ultimatum to Rafael last night. Why would you DO that?! Why did he bring out the absolute snarkiest, competitive side of you?

“You're shaking,” Amanda noticed.

“It's just nerves, you need some champagne'' Kelsey grabbed a champagne flute and shoved it in your hand; you downed it.

“You're doing the right thing,” Kelsey assured you, as if she knew what you were thinking. You looked at Olivia and Amanda.

“And what do you say?” You genuinely asked them both.

“I think that whatever you want to do is the right thing,'' Olivia replied, squeezing her hand. You smiled thankfully, glancing at the door.

He hadn’t come yet, maybe he was just drunk. Maybe he was lying in his bed hungover, wondering why he went and made an ass out of himself for no reason. Then again, maybe he was waiting for a big crowd for a huge display of affection, God WHY did you do this...

------

When it was time, you walked up to Finn who was waiting at the doors of the chapel. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a baby blue tie.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he smiled. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Now or never,” You smiled, still glancing at the exits. You noted the cameras that were set up to livestream this to millions of people; you had totally forgotten about that. Oh god, now if there was a “public display” it wouldn’t just go to the guests, it would be broadcast around the world!

The Wedding March began to play as the chapel doors opened. You proceeded to walk down the aisle and looked at everyone watching you. All of your past and present family from the SVU squad was there. Grandpa Kragen and Grandpa Munch, Uncle Brian, Uncle Tucker, etc.

Then you looked at Nathan's family, a bunch of white rich stuffy but welcoming people. You noticed all of the crowds lining outside the windows of the church cheering you on, some crying, some holding signs. Then you looked at Nathan waiting for you at the end of the aisle smiling proudly. He really did love you.

You reached the end of the aisle and took Nathan's hands.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…”

The Preacher went on through the normal wedding exchanges until he got to “the” line..

“If anyone here has any reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace,” The preacher announced as you held your breath.

You anxiously looked around the chapel, looking for any sign of Rafael. Maybe he had snuck in the back, or was hiding behind a lady with a hat. He was going to come, wasn’t he? Maybe you were right, maybe you were right along.

….Nothing. He wasn’t there. He didn’t come…

You felt your heart shatter, you were officially dead inside. And now the husk of you was being married off to this poor man.

“Do you Nathan Lee Price, take YN to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?

“I do,”

“Y/N, do you take Nathan Lee Price to be your lovely wedded husband, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?”

You looked to Nathan, then you looked to your side of the wedding, then you looked to his side, you looked to the fans outside again, you looked to the sky, looked to the ground and then you looked back at Nathan.

"I…"

“NO SHE DOES NOT!!!!”

The chapel doors swung open revealing Rafael dressed in a tuxedo. The entire room gasped in horror, and you tried your best not to run to him right then and there. He ran down the aisle until he reached the altar.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve already past the--” The preacher started to talk but Rafael put a hand in front of his face.

“I don’t care, padre,” He chortled.

"Cutting it a little close there, counselor," You muttered.

"You're the one who chose to get married during rush hour in New York City, carino," He winked.

“Man, are you serious? Really? You’ve had all this time, and you decide NOW that you want my fiancé?” Nathan asked him in a hushed voice, trying to be discreet.

Rafael however, was NOT trying to be discreet.

“This woman told me last night, if I really loved her, that I would come and stop this wedding,” He was addressing the crowd. “That I would stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life,” He turned to you and Nathan. “Marrying someone she does not love,”

The room gasped again, Nathan’s family looked horrified. Camera phones began filming, fans outside were going NUTS.

“...Is that true, Y/N?” Nathan asked you with the most pitiful look.

“I mean I--” You looked from him to Rafael, who had a huge grin on his face. Well, you DID ask for this.

“I didn’t use those exact words,” You shrugged apologetically. The pastor closed the Bible, the guests were chattering like mad, cameras flashed, the mob outside began to force themselves inside to see the drama.

“I..I can’t believe this, I can’t believe you…” Nathan shook his head in disbelief.

“Nathan I’m really sorry, I just--” You looked at Rafael again; his grin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. “I had to be sure that he really loved me,”

“So he had to PROVE his love to you, when I have shown it to you EVERY SINGLE DAY?” Nathan started to yell, forgetting about appearances.

“I mean, no-- it’s a whole thing, you wouldn’t understand--” You started to laugh unintentionally, thinking of how you and Rafael had your own twisted sick sense of humor.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” He continued to yell.

“...She’s a flair for the dramatic Nate, what can I say?” Rafael smirked as he stepped up on the stair you were standing on and wrapped an arm around you. You really hated that you were enjoying this at Nate’s expense but-- Rafael was right. You wanted him to publicly admit it, and he delivered. And you were ecstatic.

“Yeah well, I hope you’re both happy in dramatic HELL,” Nathan spewed before stomping off out of the chapel with his groomsmen quickly tailing him. His side of the wedding began exiting the chapel furiously grumbling and yelling profanities at you.

You glanced at your side of the room, the entire NYPD. They all surprisingly looked very pleased, although some people like Kragen were skeptical about this suave ADA coming in here and sweeping you off your feet. They shook their heads and a few applauded, especially your current family.

“Oh we’re not done folks,” Rafael announced as he grabbed the preacher before he could leave.

“Wha...what now?” You were confused but growing more excited by the second.

“You wanted me to be sure that this is what I wanted,” Rafael took both of your hands. “And I want you to KNOW that this,” He gestured between the two of you. “This is all I will ever want, for the rest of my life. And I want to prove it to you,” He smiled at you and pulled something from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, Rafa you really don’t--” You started to say that stopping this wedding was proof enough for you, but he was already down on his knees.

“Y/N….Will you marry me?” He asked. “....Right now?” He added, gesturing to the preacher. Now it was your side’s turn to gasp loudly again, as you stared at the huge diamond ring Rafael was holding out to you.

Where did he get that? WHEN did he get that? Had he been planning on proposing to you before? A zillion questions ran through your brain but you did your best to quiet them all so you could focus on the ONE question that mattered right now.

“....DUH!” You finally slapped him over the head playfully and grabbed the ring from him. He laughed and slipped it on your finger before pulling you into a beautiful, perfect kiss. Everyone on your side laughed and cheered, happy their baby girl was getting her happy ending.

“Well alright then, I guess let’s start this thing over!” The preacher laughed, opening his Bible once again.

“Rafael Barba, do you take Y/N to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?” He asked Rafael.

“I do,” Rafael beamed at you.

“Do you--” .

“WAIT,” You put up a hand to stop him, making everyone start to mumble curiously again. Rafael’s face fell.

“...Are you serious? You’re changing your mind?” He muttered anxiously.

“No!” You shook your head. “No I…” You looked at the floor. “God this is so stupid…” You laughed to yourself nervously, not really believing you were actually going to admit this.

“....What?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“I um…” You bit your lip. “Oh God…” You turned to the preacher. “Sorry!” He brushed it off.

“Baby what are you--” Rafael was seriously starting to worry.

“Please, please don’t freak out,” You begged him. His eyes remained confused, but soft and understanding.

“Okay…” He gave you a look.

“I um,” You took a deep breath. “I may or may not have learned this...just in case,”

You took another deep breath, and recited the words you had practiced in front of your mirror for MONTHS after you had first met Rafael.

“Yo, Y/N, te tomo a ti, Rafael Barba, como mi esposo,”

Rafael immediately broke into the biggest smile you may have ever seen on him, tears instantly wet his eyes as you spoke.

“Prometo serte fiel en lo próspero y en lo adverso,” You continued, vowing you were NOT going to break down crying.

“en la salud y en la enfermedad, Amarte y respetarte todos los días de mi vida.,” You finished successfully without shedding a tear, unlike Rafael who was a full on hot mess of tears in front of you.

“Baby I…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that,” He whispered, tears still catching in his throat.

“I told you,” You bit your lip. “I have always been in love with you,”

“And I am so in love with you,” He grinned, pulling your face into his for “the” kiss.

“Well I guess you can kiss the bride!” The preacher laughed sarcastically as everyone broke into cheers.

You glanced up at the cameras as you walked down the aisle with your new husband. God you hoped that hadn’t blown up in your face, but if it did-- you had your Rafa to hold you through the storm.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #caught in the storm

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obeymefictionwriting · 3 years

Text

Open Wound

It’s been a while since I wrote a big fanfiction so here you go. This time it’s dedicated to Beel and I shall warn ya - it’s a bit darker tha my previous works. No violence or gore but a focus on psychology and inner problems.

“Oh no, not again!”

I heard Satan’s voice far from the kitchen and shivered. When Satan was not in the mood (which, to be honest, was almost always the case), it was better to keep away from him. I’ve witnessed numerous times how quickly he flew in rage and honestly I was feeling sorrow for whoever of the brothers made him lose his temper.

I wondered what made him so made this time but then my D.D.D. rang.

“New incoming message to the HOL chat: Beel, stop eating ALL food in the fridge! Now we are out of food for dinner so go and get some!!!!”

Uh-oh. I bet Satan, as usual, wanted to get a light snack in the middle of his reading marathon and all he saw was an empty fridge. But I didn’t feel bad for Satan - I was actually worried about Beelzebub.

I get it, he is the Avatar of Gluttony and all. But something really wasn’t right about the amounts of food he consumed. Like, how can one possibly eat so much? And why?

I knew Beel too well to buy a simple “the Avatar of Gluttony” answer. I knew how passionate he could be about sports or about movies and music. And I’d never believe that he’d constantly feel hungry just because he is the avatar of gluttony.

I went to Beel’s room because I wanted to see him and I also wanted to join him on the shopping trip. Luckily, he was alone in the room. Belphie must be napping somewhere else and it was probably the attic.

“Oh, it’s you!” Beelzebub gave me a big smile. “I was worried it was Satan who’d come to scold me again.

“Mind if I join you for shopping?”

“Sure. I love spending time with you and was actually planning to ask you to come with me.”

We sneaked out of the house and headed to the store. While in the store, I firmly took over the shopping list. I gave in though when I saw the way Beel stares at some delicacies. “I think Lucifer won’t mind” I murmured as Beel was loading the shopping cart with packages.

“Phew that’s a lot,” Beel said enthusiastically as he easily grabbed all our bags. Once again I was amazed at how strong and cheerful he was. Seems like he never had a time of weakness: at least I couldn’t remember him whining, complaining, or showing a moment of weakness. Always reliable, always happy, and always…

“GRRRRRRRR.”

Hungry. Of course.

“Sorry,” He looked embarrassed. “All this shopping made me hungry. Mind if we stop by Madam Scream’s?”

I didn’t mind at all as I was craving something sweet. When we arrived, the place was crowded as usual but the owner, Madam Scream herself, saw Beel and gave us a wide sincere smile.

“Isn’t it my favorite customer!” She said, approaching us and hugging Beel. It was a funny thing to see, considering the woman was quite short and Beel was twice as big as her. He hugged her back carefully as if concerned about hurting her but she didn’t seem to notice.

“My boy, you always lift my mood. How about a small cozy table right there?” And she showed us a comfortable-looking table in a dark isolated corner. In this way, almost no one could hear us and we could observe the whole cafe as if being invisible.

“That’s great, thank you!” Beel beamed with enthusiasm. “Can we have two of your famous milkshakes for the start?”

She smiled again and left, leaving two menus on the table. We sat down and Beel immediately grabbed the menu and began studying it. Once our milkshakes appeared on the table, he took a large sip and looked at me happily:

“I’m just so glad I’m here with you and sharing my favorite food”, he said.

I felt guilty for a moment as I was about to ask him an unpleasant question. But if I didn’t, it would keep bothering me. So I took a deep breath and blurted out:

“Beel, is there a reason you eat so much? Except for you being the Avatar of Gluttony, of course. I just feel… I feel there is something more to it. Sorry if I’m wrong. And sorry for asking.”

As I was looking at his face getting darker I really blamed myself for asking. Like, what’s my problem? It’s his life and his appetite doesn’t seem to do any harm so why did I even bother?

He’s been silent for quite some time and I was about to open my mouth, apologize and think of a way to make it up but suddenly he spoke.

“Guess I should tell you. Nobody knows, even Belphie, because this is something I never wanted to share with anyone. But I feel I can trust you. Just promise you won’t tell anyone.”

I nodded and he continued:

“Remember I told you how all three of us - me, Belphie, and Lilith - would go to the human world? I really liked it back there and what I loved most was a small pastry shop in the corner of some empty street. I remember not many people went there because they preferred bigger shops but that one was my favorite.”

His voice suddenly became sadder and I saw something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Was it… grief?

“There was this girl who ran the shop. She was really cute and the first time she saw me, she laughed really hard because I ate almost everything they had. Of course, she had no idea I was a demon, and still, she wasn’t scared of my appetite - she was entertained! And this fascinated me so much that I… I didn’t feel as hungry as I usually did. Instead, I was feeling all sorts of different feels: interest, happiness. Love.”

As he admitted it, I was stunned. Of course, I knew how soft and caring Beel was but I never really thought about his love life before. For me, he was a real family guy who’d spend all his time on his family and sports. And all of a sudden, it turns out there was a human girl whom he loved?

He continued:

“I started visiting her almost every day and she was really happy to see me. She’d bake special pastries just for me and I’d tell her stories about different countries and worlds. She called me a storyteller but she loved listening to them.

I’d carry her around a lot and she was as light as a feather. I remember the way her skin smelled: vanilla and something flowery. She’d hug me really tight, scared that we might fall, but she trusted me completely and more than anything I cherished her trust.

As we grew closer, she was telling me about herself and her family. I learned that she has a small brother and that her parents were too old to run a shop so she took care of it instead. I even met her brother and he taught me how to play football. Can you imagine: a six-year-old boy teaching the team captain of Devildom? It was hilarious!

Of course, my brothers were suspecting something but all of them thought I was just drawn to human food. All, except Lucifer. He clearly understood what was going on but just let it be… Only once did he say: be careful because humans do not last long. But at that time, I didn’t care.”

He stopped and took another sip of his milkshake. When he looked back at me, he had tears in his beautiful violet eyes.

“And then she was gone. I didn’t visit the shop for a week or so because we had an important game. When I came to the shop, rushing to see her, there was an old lady at the counter. She saw me looking surprised and said “Oh, must be the boy Yuki told me about!” She then broke into tears and said something I never expected.

Yuki had cancer and… and she left me. She left her family and me. And I was busy playing the game and never ever thought she was struggling all this time. After all these years, I feel so guilty still. And food just reminds me of her.”

As he said it, my eyes were full of tears too. Now everything was clear to me: his uncontrollable appetite and the constant willingness to help others. He didn’t want any of his loved people to get hurt again. And he was using food to forget about the past.

“Oh Beel,” I took his hand. “Is there any way I can help you? I’m so sorry. And sorry for asking.”

When he looked at me, I was surprised to see that something changed about him. Something I couldn’t quite tell…

“After keeping it inside me all these years… Talking about it is what helped me,” He said. “I feel as if something heavy was lifted from my chest. I will remember Yuki forever, of course I will. But now I feel… liberated. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I do. And you can always talk to me whenever you feel like,’ I said, stroking his cheek.

Beelzebub smiled and I felt relieved.

“And to be honest, I don’t feel like finishing my milkshake,’ he suddenly said. “Let’s go home instead. Satan must be mad so we better bribe him with food.”

He stood up and held out his hand to me. As I took it, I felt his fingers squeezing mine. And I knew what it meant. He was thanking me.

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub imagines

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao

Prompt: traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically. It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?” You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

#Vladdy original works #be gentle with me #lol

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vickylamore · 3 years

Text

She Was Different

Choi Jongho x Female Reader

Tokyo Ghoul AU

Angst.

Inspired by Remember by KATIE and Different by WOODZ.

Notes: its 7 am and I want to sleep. Not my best work but I had an idea and just wrote it lmak.

Warnings: death, really short, unedited.

Coffee was the first drink he'd try that never made him throw up. It was suggested by his leader and he's stuck with it ever since.

But he's pretty horrible at making coffee himself and it never truly replicates the sweet yet bitter smell and the firewood like earthly taste of her coffee shop across the university.

It was different. She was different, it's what Jongho kept telling himself. She was, she had to be.

You were sweet and innocent like an angel ascended from heaven. You were literally God's work, unlike himself, a merciless monster. Your eyes brimmed with so much hope and joy, one that could easily be shattered and twisted into sorrow before anyone could blink.

She was different.

The first time Jongho had met you was when he wanted to try out the newest coffee shop down the block, you just so happened to be the owner. He was cautious at first, everyone knows that ghouls lurked in the empty and solemn alleyways to catch their next prey, your shop was next to a few, making it dangerous at night.

But the more he got to know you, the easier he understood your carefree and adventurous personality, your YOLO mindset and your upbeat attitude. You were nice but fierce, something Jongho never expected from the girl who worked the shop down the block.

She was different.

The first time you both had a conversation was when you bonded over a book and the smile, God the smile that laced your face was a picture in Jongho’s mind, one he'd never erase. So bright, so beautiful, so perfect.

The first time his group mates saw both of you together, they told him to stay away. Hongjoong made it clear,

"Get rid of her," Jongho still remembers the coldness and hatred tones to his leader's voice as he peered over the warehouse railing, eyes bloodshot red. "She'll be a distraction, she'll make you weak. If you don't, I'll do it myself."

The rest of the members ignored his requests when he wanted them to meet you. Idiot, human-lover and all sorts of names were thrown at him. He didn't care though, he shouldn't because he had you.

She was different.

But Jongho underestimated one thing from his leader; that he never goes back on his words. Hongjoong had given him nearly three months to make you run away, you only drew closer to the youngest ghoul.

You would go on dates, trips and walks. You'd talk about everything and anything like both of you were long lost soulamtes, an admiration behind his eyes everytime he smiled into your eyes and you his.

He found you, a human, who made his life now only better but also complete. No one thought that an human and a ghoul would be together, let alone for à long time.

But all good things come to an end.

She was different after all. She was human after all. She was perfect… after all.

Jongho had locked himself inside his room, his kagune walls and pillows, eyes blurring with tears and shining a red hue as he cried. His hands holding his head, he cried over and over again.

Although she was perfect in Jongho’s eyes, but Hongjoong had enough. Either he was already in a horrible mood or he was fed up with Jongho’s stalling, the younger would never know.

He'd never know why Hongjoong snapped your neck in half.

He didn't know why he did it, whether to teach him a lesson more acceptable than other thoughts. But it didn't hurt any less, not while the defining crack echoed through the empty park, not while he caught you and cried, not while he sobbed against your cold body, wishing you to come back.

"It was for your own good," his words irking him, if tonight. "I did what I had to do to keep you and everyone here. Ghouls don't mix with humans and humans don't mess with ghouls."

But he wanted to, Jongho wanted to so much. He wanted to be with you every second of every minute. He didn't want to be alone, but he saw.

He sobbed in his room, his eyes red and raging in anger as well as sullen in grief and sorrow. He never unstood why Hongjoong did what he did, he'll never forget, not while he's alive.

You were the one he trusted, the one he yerned for and wanted. You trusted him to protect you and now he was grieving in his room, calling out your name like you would appear and comfort.

Comfort, support, love. The things you gave him because you were you. You didn’t deserve to die, you were supposed to keep living but you were you.

Jongho sobbed, the only souvenir he had of you was the coffee mug you gave him as a gift. He clung onto the mug, pressing it against his chest as more tears stained his shirt, leaving teardrop droplets.

"Im sorry," he whispered while banging his head on the door. "Im so sorry."

She died because she was different from the others. She died because Jongho was different too. Too different to be with a human, too different to be a human-lover…

She died because she was different, and he was too different for her.

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theinfiknight · 3 years

Text

This is a lil piece of poetry I wrote because Hollow Knight made me feel so many things, so feel free to read it if you like

A land apart did he arrive Empty of life and yet alive Mind and soul he gave to keep A king is made, rejoice and weep

Thought and self given to all Stand above to answer his call Eternity, a promise made to last The king looks forward, forgotten is past

Light left behind, a cast off shell Changing, growing, kingdom doth swell Stag to beast, mushroom to moth The king rules supreme, light is forgot

Light is forgot Light is forgot Awry strays the minds of the glow hungry moths Grievously will they pay For their sins that day To forget creator til they can remember naught

One great shell of eclipsed might One fierce, one mysterious, one kindly knight One malodorous brave that stains the air The king is great, his famed five, fair

All among all acknowledge his reign Pale king, White Queen, land lives again Great doors left open to all who seek The king shines radiant, for mighty and meek

Higher beings, these words are for you alone Welcome to the kingdom that gods call home Enter this land of creator and god The king permits it, obey our laws

Welcome to Hallownest, of legend and story! Welcome to the Eternal Kingdom! Share in its glory!

Make your fortune at crystal peak! Where unearthly stone seems to sing Else in the city find that which you seek Prosperity and fortune, promises the king

Wander along down the Pilgrim's Way Take in the beauty of greenkin tamed Behold the queen's gardens, wild and fey The king shines, supremity claimed

Explore the crossroads that wind afar Where trade and life does pulse and ebb Witness it thrive, a kingdom grown large The king at the center, of the living web

Rejoice to witness his light in person In thrall lies mortal bug stood before him Misery cannot exist, nor Kingdom worsen While in his radiance. All adore him! . . . . Memory lost shall remember again Light shines through in hearts of woe Eternity crumbles, ruin begun The king is fractured by forgotten foe

Unity offered, self removed Power and might in exchange for will Join something bigger, it behooves The king is shadowed, light shines still

Oh pale one, great one! oh glorious! They beg, they cry out, they despairingly call Scorching, radiant, bright but odious The king is helpless, light takes all

No cost too great, no act too low Of root and soul, in void will they grow Empty, mindless, to cage that which shines The king will act, against power divine

No will to break, no mind to think To gaze into blackest void, and not blink No voice to cry, no soul to die All light casts shadow, and shadowed they lie

A container to hold void enslaved Vessels of purity, the umbra's shade Birthed, shaped, and left to rot The king needs them not, they are forgot

Massive birthplace of void unmade Deep and dark does the abyss go Buried within do his children fade The king closes it off, they need not know

Chosen vessel, pure and empty Son and hero made, hope renewed Tarnished forever, by love aplenty The king mistakes, purity is skewed

Despair no more! Behold in awe! Palest God's most silent son! Empty, its core, without flaw! Our Hollow Saviour, the war is won!

Peace and heart, for a time return As silent Prince does grow and learn To think, to be, to feel and to fight Light and dark in a single shell, a Hollow Knight

Greater still is surety required Firmer still must the lock hold Three chosen to ascend ever higher The king is eternal, but time grows old

A lock for diversity, of the archive's halls A scholar, the teacher, wise and prepared Mask entrusted away, the endless calls The king requires the it, the dream Monomon shares

A lock for king, for dream, for monarch Loyalty and life, given for the throne Watcher on high, spire so dark The king demands it, Lurien sleeps alone

A lock for union between high and low A deal is made, a dalliance to keep The 'beast' is tamed and seeds are sown The king's work is finished, Herrah sleeps

Beloved of beast, daughter of Wyrm Raised by root, fierce and strong Hive trained to strike true and firm The king gives life, child of silk and song

Strength misjudged, bonds created A broken vessel to chain light unbound Eternity imprisoned, no end awaited The king imposes, sacrifice enshrouds

Willingly does it rise to meet it Freely does it sacrifice its soul For only by dark is light defeated But how so is it hollow, with no hole?

Where emptiness once lay, dreams persist Ideas and love and a life to give Kindness in its brow, restraint in its fist Never meant to die, but also never to live

Unknowing, the deed is done Unwilling, the king buries his son Unfeeling, it goes away to burn Never again may it return

Never again will light release. Never again will Hallownest know peace . The seal is set, the lock is done Our knight is chained, the war is won Light fades away, Kingdom secure All hail the king, eternity is here!

Eternity is here! Forget that fear! Forget that scorching glow! Bask now in pale glory of The kingdom that eternal grows! . . . .

Fading, fading Mind and soul awake Hurting, hurting Love and heart to take Empty, so empty Hollow, he is not Foolish, so foolish Hallownest begins to rot

Shame. Sorrow. Love, Light... and another Do not think. Do not feel. Do not... Father?

Light burns harsh, angry and proud Vengeance shines through Hollow shroud Forgotten she will not be, first and brightest The king needs understand, it is no foe he might best

Orange, virulent, infection spreads Mindless, soulless, unity takes Fear the living, strong and mad, fear the mindless dead The king regrets, low and sad, strongest of wills can break

Brother turns on brother, burning, burning Madness, a frenzy, churning, churning Carnage, rage, bodies flying, flying Massacred and broken, dying, dying

Gone is the promise, left has the dream Only echoes and shadows, acid and steam Kingdom of glory, left now for dead The king is silent, low bends his head

Greenkin lost, Unn hides away Bloated fungi disfigured like clay Bound in the garden, the white lady withdraws The king has failed. Lost is the war . It's over, it's here, the doom that I feared It's done, they've won, all I hold dear Is gone, by spawn, of blight divine I've failed, oh jailed, Hollow son of mine.

Fate will not deny its course I cannot see the way, and fear the worst An end has reached its time to die Shame drowns in sorrow. Goodbye. . . . Gone is the king, cry in lament! Abandoning the very ones that he swore To protect, tearing open a mighty rent In his own heart, shut like the great doors

Dear king, how, why have you left us?! We wander and we search for you still Into darkness we stumble, for it yet does Hurt in our hearts where once was your will

They still call out your name with despair and regret For none could tame their savage souls, yet you the challenge met What you gave to bug and beast was unfathomable, and yet Foolish it was to make them, their first light, forget

The fading town reduces and dies Kingdom and city now, in ruin lies No dream, no mind, only light and pain The king is gone. What now remains?

Palace vanished, knights five, disbanded Monarch but a memory, stagways abandoned Limbo sleeps forever, mourn the paradise lost The king's love severed, this is eternity's cost

One by one the last souls burn In search of glory that will not return Enter the darkness and succumb to light The king is long gone, for he lost the fight

He lost the fight! He lost the fight! Give your self up to blinding light! Take all your dreams and hold them close The light calls out, and your willingness shows

Give in to light! Give in to light! Forget that foolish king! Forget his insolent attempt to close what never should have been!

Power, knowledge, and all that your heart desires Come to me, become greater, burn in the cosmic fire! . . .

Fools gather at kingdoms edge Drown their fear in violence and blood Ancient sorrows do they dredge The king shadows in shell molt flood

Buried in green, a hunter wastes away Closed, angry, mantis warriors stand proud Deeper, hungry, the beast's devout, decay Bereft, lost , kingdom withers in the ground

Ancient nailmasters mourn in solitude Remnants of greatness from a better age Nailsage's legacy, once strong and shrewd Now faint as marks on a torn off page

Mossmen remain in puddles of leaf Awaiting a return ever unreturning Wishing like all else, drowning in grief For a lost god that vanished after the burning

The light seeks out even those who hide Tempting the brave, proud and the mighty Even the unbending mantis lords' pride Do not blind themselves to it lightly

Even among the proud, traitors emerge Valuing strength above mind and skill Petras and warriors, lost to the scourge Caring not for the battle, only for the kill

The queen's gardens are lost to those Invaders who, expelled from their lands Enraged, swarm that thorned repose Executing the will of their light's command

Seeking palest root, bound and blind Solitude in exile, like her beloved But of the mighty, the mysterious, and kind The fierce of the five still guards what they covet

The mysterious, the heartbroken withers alone Distant from her love, far from her home Brave Ogrim slowly loses his mind, His faith and the the very life of the Kind

Outsiders, few, still sparingly appear A strange fool who thinks himself mighty A masked bug lured by memory unclear And a haughty warrior approaching doom lightly

Very few now remain in the fading town The old bug who stands by and advises The mapmaker who ever heads further down But on a distant hill, a figure rises!

A diminutive echo of deep silence That approaches unceasingly, toward The great door that does Kingdom fence, Holding aloft the ghost of a sword

That strikes at the great portal, with nail Cracked and grown old with wear With strength unseeming for one so frail Shattering the door as if it were never there

Small and weak seems the knight As it enters the land plagued bright Can an entire kingdom's fate Rest on the silhouette in the gate That enters so boldly and unafraid Unfeeling as void in which it was made Drawn once more by phantom's call Returning to the land of light's fall

No mighty strength does it seem To wield as it walks as if in dream Down the dusty, ashen road That leads to lonely, fading abode . . . . A land apart did it arrive Empty of life and yet alive Blood and corruption now does seep A kingdom is dead, sorrow and weep

Higher beings, heed well this writing Focus soul to heal crack and seam Through twisted spell or vulgar fighting You will achieve that which others can only dream

Every footstep hangs heavy with fate Into the kingdom that burns in light The speck that will confound even the great The unceasing march of the Hollow Knight

That’s all, hope you liked it. Do reblog if you did

#hollow knight #hornet #the pale king #writing #poetry #videogames #hallownest

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gretchensinister · 3 years

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I too am curious about 3, combined with 5? also 15 and this might be a nightmare question but, 22 for DoL

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Okay so. The WIPs. 1. The farthest along is the college students in a cabin being killed by a monster story, which I wrote for a Pitch Black Halloween event a couple years ago and now I am editing to publish as its own novel. I’m actually at the last scene! Unfortunately I also need to rewrite the last scene because the current last scene basically introduces two new characters and I think that damages the effect I’m going for with the story overall. It’s a story with a small cast and very few extras and closing on strangers adds distance between reader and story which I don’t want.

2. Then there’s my Phantom of the Opera fic, which yes it has been maybe a year since I worked on it, but I really want to finish it and put it into the world. I just thought it would be shorter, since I repeatedly said to @marypsue, “I’m not going to rewrite the Phantom of the Opera”…cut to card saying “Gretchen rewrites the Phantom of the Opera.”

3. There’s the fic I was working on for Dead Dove Day. I wanted to write some smut with a completely blank slate being introduced to sex by someone with tons of experience (which apparently now gets a frowny face put in one’s file) and also every character has dual genitalia (I’m still waiting for the paperwork to come back about whether I’m allowed to fantasize about that or not, and then of course there’s all the other forms to determine if I’m allowed to encourage other people to also fantasize about this). The smut is done unless I add another scene at the end but it developed a plot so I’m trying to resolve that.

4. There’s some simple! classic! blacksand! that won’t resolve for some reason and makes me feel like I lost the ability to write. I know this isn’t true but it’s like…I need to be writing this in class or something. I need to be getting away with it.

5. Last, there’s blackgeneral which I have put in a human AU and made even worse! But if you’ve never written something where you wonder at least a little bit if it would fail the Miller Test, have you even lived?

Now for some samples, in the order in which they were mentioned (lmao this got long):

1. “Did you see that, did you see that?”

“What was that?”

“Yeah, I saw it but—”

“It was tall, it was tall, it was a bear!”

“No, it was skinny! It couldn’t have been a bear!”

“And anyway, it was fucking gray!”

“Okay, okay,” Gabe said when things had quieted down a little. “Everything looks kind of gray in this light.”

“I’m not really concerned with its color!” Sugar said.

Kelly had stood up in all the commotion and now moved behind Gabe, resting her hands on his shoulders. She hadn’t liked the look of that thing in the woods, but now Gabe was pointing his flashlight down into the lake, and that was actually worse for her.

“Shine your light at it again,” Sandy said. “We’ll either frighten it away or get a better idea of what it is.”

They waited tensely as Gabe swept the trail again, revealing nothing.

“I don’t know if anyone else is thinking this,” Minnu said, “but I thought…I thought it kind of looked like a guy.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, after a moment. “Yeah, it kind of did.”

“That kind of seems worse,” Sugar said.

“True,” Sandy said. “So, what should we do? I vote for going back to the cabin.”

“And I think we should go without our phone lights or flashlights,” said Sugar. “If that was a guy, he could have a gun.”

“The person that was found dead wasn’t killed by any gun,” Kelly said after a short pause.

“Well, this could be someone entirely different,” Sugar said. “It’s not like there’s a rule, only one thing that can kill you in the forest at a time. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite of that.”

“Guys, guys,” Sandy said. “I know this isn’t the most normal thing to say, but…are we really sure that that thing looked like a…well, a human guy?”

2. She screams. She screams her sorrow and her rage, and her rage is at the way of the world but also at herself; why had she been a coward? All she had done was seen, and she had still frozen in fear? All she had were her hands, but should she not have used them? She should have flown forward and strangled the man! But she had only frozen, frozen and silently watched, as if she was nothing more than the ornament she was supposed to be.

“You will hurt yourself, screaming like that,” a voice says, then.

No one else is in the chapel with her. She checked many times in succession before closing the door. The voice is that of no one. A ghost.

But the abruptness reminds her of Mme. Giry as she instructs the corps de ballet on form. You will hurt yourself, bending like that.

But since no one is here, she responds as if she is alone. “No one ever taught me how to properly scream.” As she says this, she can feel the rawness of her throat. It hardly matters, she has no solos approaching, and probably never will.

“Do you want to learn?” the voice asks. “I could teach you.”

“What would be the point? No one wants me to scream.”

“No one wants me to do anything,” the voice says. “But I know how to do many things.”

The shape of her mouth flickers towards a smile. The concept is oddly enticing: to build a skill that no one wants. And this voice, that is oddly enticing, too. It reminds her of the heavy velvet that she’d noticed in the costume shop one day, brushed to a shimmering dark red like a fire behind smoked glass. The soft weight of it had been a glory in her hands that sent a strange shiver all down her spine.

And just as she knows that velvet doesn’t grow on trees, she knows that this wonderful voice didn’t come naturally, either. A lot of work went into its creation, and right now, she is the only one being given that beauty. That’s enticing, too.

It seems she’s taken too long to respond, for the voice speaks again. “I could teach you how to sing as well as scream. I’ve heard you sing on your own before, away from the chorus. You could be the greatest soprano the opera has ever heard.”

“Singing is something they want,” she says. “And you say…the greatest. Do you think I could be sublime, as a soprano?”

“Sublime,” the voice muses, and the slow word makes her shiver again. “I have met few who truly desire to be sublime.”

“I do.”

This time it is the voice that takes a long time to respond. “I believe you,” it finally says, sounding curious, and a little sad. “Yet I do not fully understand you. Perhaps I will if I teach you. And I can. I have far more experience with sublimity than with beauty.”

“Your voice is beautiful,” she says tentatively, “at least it is as you speak to me. But I hear in it something that tells me you can easily transcend with it to the sublime. I only wish to say, from hearing you, I would guess you had experience with both.”

“You do not know what you say,” the voice replies, with control so careful she cannot be sure what it conceals, “but that is all very well. You will have a voice with sublimity waiting behind its beauty, this I swear. Sublimity will be yours to hold to heel or to unleash, and when you do—”

“Yes,” she interrupts. “What then?”

She can hear a smile in the voice now, at her eagerness. “At the very least,” the voice says, “you’ll be able to shatter glass.”

She smiles too, imagining. “Every globe in the chandelier, from the stage.” It is a reckless wish, and a thoughtless one—she does not really want to rain glass down upon the audience, or if they were not there, to make the cleaning-women sweep up thousands of razor-sharp shards. But if she could, oh, it’s an uncanny thing to do. Not a pretty thing.

“If you have the will, I will show you the way,” says the voice. “If you agree, will you tell me your name?”

“Yes, and yes,” she says. “And my name is Christine Daae. But what is yours?”

“I am the ghost,” he says.

3. The Pitch held Sandy close with one arm while their other hand flowed down Sandy’s body, slow and sweet like honey. They bent to kiss Sandy’s mouth as they fondled their full breasts. And it wasn’t—it wasn’t as if the Pitch spent a long time at the stiff points of Sandy’s nipples. They were too sensitive for that right now, the line between pleasure and pain too thin. But they did touch, and the touch of their inhumanly long fingers felt somehow both reverent and barely restrained. Sandy knew this could only be their projection onto such a new Pitch, but knowing didn’t make the feeling go away. It didn’t stop them from going half-mad with it, their cunt getting wetter and their cock getting harder, barely a breath away from begging the Pitch to pinch them, hard, to fall over the line of pain to see if there was pleasure on the other side.

But that was part of a different lesson, and not something every owner wanted their Pitch to learn. Sandy wasn’t quite sure it was what they wanted, either, except that it would be more sensation and more was what they wanted from the Pitch.

But of course the Pitch could give more, and of course they would give more. That was what they were for.

The Pitch caressed their belly luxuriantly, their speeding breath and some soft sounds muffled by their mouth on Sandy’s proclaiming their absolute delight in every curve of Sandy’s very ordinary body. And again it felt like real desire, as if the Pitch had forgotten that the point of their actions was to arouse Sandy. As if it was assured, as if there was a long understanding of mutuality between them, as if indulging themselves with Sandy was something they knew Sandy would enjoy.

As for the last, with Sandy, they were right. Every greedy touch of the Pitch’s hands was a gift, a drug.

A drug that opened the mind to some dangerous ideas. Pitches are made for pleasure. If I could choose a pleasure construct I’d choose a Pitch. I’d choose this Pitch. Precocious Pitch and I wonder, I wonder if in a different world where Pitches are what the born look like, if this Pitch would commission a Sandy if they could. It should have been unthinkable. But pleasure constructs were also made to make the unthinkable possible.

So obedient, and they come with their own built-in taboos for you to think about breaking!

4. Conversation is all right, Sandy said. If you can find someone to do it with. But there are things I like better. He looked up at Pitch. Things I think you might like better, too.

“Is that so? You know something good enough to make me be good?”

Sandy grinned, now, and Pitch—Pitch absolutely felt his heart beat faster, though it was getting harder now to say that this was out of panic or even simple fear.

I don’t know if it’s that powerful, but I’d be happy to give it a try, Sandy said. What do you think?

What did Pitch think? He felt like somehow he’d been herded through a great number of corridors in his mind and now he had reached a dead end. Or—not exactly a dead end. It was just that all the doors around him were ones he had locked tightly, and he had tried to forget that he still had the keys. It was the Sandy wing of his mind, and now the real Sandy was blocking him from leaving the corridor the way he came, and spinning a key ring around his little golden finger. If Sandy unlocked any of those doors, then he’d see…he’d see…

Maybe…Sandy would see something he…liked?

“Try me,” Pitch said, giving the words an unsuitable earnestness.

5. Porcelain skin and blue-black hair from their mother. Sharp angular faces, proud aquiline noses, and bones that promised height from their father. And yet their mother’s influence performed alchemy on these traits, somehow making them gracile, proving that on those infinitesimal spiral staircases of fate, she would always have the higher ground. Their lips might be thinner than hers, but they were still perfectly formed to bring to mind sensuality, even from this young age. They might be forbidden cosmetics, but the lashes she gave them were long and thick enough that no one who saw them would be able to stop themselves from wondering. And their eyes, of course, were hers, that exquisitely rare and exotic topaz had completely overshadowed their father’s pure northern blue. There was just enough of their father in their looks that they could be no one else’s sons, but the rest of their looks whispered this open secret: Though he was powerful enough to wed and bring to childbed the most beautiful woman within a thousand miles, claiming such beauty meant that he would never have a son quite in his image. That single, perfect, impregnable vessel of immortality for himself was nothing but a ghost. What he had, after having everything else, was this uncanny pair. Warped reflections of their mother, warped reflections of their father.

And perfect reflections of each other.

15: Which fic that you’ve written relates to you and your personal life the most?

A Draught of Light. I was working through a lot of stuff in that fic and while writing it, I’m not done working out everything I was working out in that fic, and bizarrely it seems to continue to become more relatable to me as years pass, even through situations I could not have possibly have foreseen. But also Speak Oil Into My Ear is very near and dear to me because of how much of Austin, TX I put into it, and that’s where I was living when I wrote it.

22: Have you used any symbolism in A Draught of Light? What does it represent?

You mentioned this might be a nightmare question and I guess it kind of is, because DoL is like…not subtle in any way. That’s just how it is. Any symbolism is baked into the magic system because it’s how magic works—if a light adept can figure out how to understand what they’re doing as related to illuminating/revealing/opening etc., then they can do it with light. If a shadow adept can understand a working as related to concealing/vanishing/hiding etc., then they can do it with shadow. Fire is change, water is healing/restoration. The ending doesn’t go full allegory but like. For those who are familiar it’s very obvious why I would think of this story more around Easter than around the autumn equinox, when it’s actually set.

But! Story time! When this story started, it was partially due to three factors: a kinkmeme prompt that I wasn’t sure if my idea actually addressed, a round pool at the apartment complex I lived in at the time, and a dream I had where I was standing in this underground circular stone chamber, and I clapped my hands and water began flowing from them, and (here’s the symbolism) in the dream I knew that the water represented forgiveness. (Though that’s not really what it means in DoL.

#tejoxys

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 92 - Campfire Stories, Part 2

Added Note: This chapter was accidentally posted during #blackoutTuesday, and I tried to take it down before it was up for too long.

The cause hasn’t ended, we need to keep momentum going. Please donate to naacp.com/coronavirus to help in the fight for health equity during the current pandemic, especially as the people who are protesting police brutality are risking their health to do so.

________________________________

Okay, I promised I would post all the stories I received for this event, and I’m keeping my word... so we have Part 2 of the Campfire stories!

The one referenced at the opening of this chapter is an original of mine that I posted about a year ago, called “Lydia Woke Up”. Since it can be found through that link and on my blog, I didn’t want to include the whole story. Some of you have already read it, and I thought that would bog things down.

Also in this chapter, Grey’s story is adapted from this story on r/nosleep, only adjusted to fit the character and the story. Grey’s creator submitted the story, so I don’t want to take credit for something I didn’t write.

Finally, the story Tyche tells is one I have told before, on another blog. The response is here, verbatim, in Tyche’s story. However, the basis for the story is so common that it is classified as Aarne-Thompson type 706, a way of cataloguing folk tales. Rejectedprincesses.com has a version of this (Penta: The Handless Princess), and I originally read the Brother’s Grimm version. There is also a Xhosa variant that I highly recommend.

“...Finally, blessedly, Lydia didn’t wake up,” I finished, glancing around.

Charly was holding a hand to her mouth, and I couldn’t figure out if she was going to be sick or cry. Coffee was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Conor and Maverick were shaking themselves briskly, like they did when they woke up in the morning.

“That story is... disturbing,” Grey pronounced carefully.

Arthur shuddered and shook his head. “Somehow it’s even worse when you tell it, instead of just reading it.”

Tyche arched a brow at him. “Right?”

“What do you mean, instead of just reading it?” Charly’s question was only slightly muffled by her hand.

The arched brow switched targets, while one finger was flicked in my direction. “She wrote that story. Probably fifteen years ago?”

All eyes stared at me widely, except the two who already knew. “Wasn’t that a little...dark?” Conor asked.

I shrugged. “We’re telling scary stories, right?”

Both of my partners glanced at each other, and I knew I would be hearing about this later. Fortunately, I was saved when Grey spoke up. “I have a story I read once, in the Before.”

“Is it as… bad, as Sophie’s?”

They shook their head. “My fathers were really good friends with the family who lived closest to us, but one day the head of that household was offered a very lucrative job far away. Both of my fathers were upset, but my mothers agree that they recovered rather quickly. Within a month, the house was sold, and a new couple moved in. Mother Jacqueline said there was something off-putting about them.

‘They were constantly smiling,’ she always explained. ‘Every minute of the day, they had large, painful-looking smiles on their faces. And they were whiter than linen sheets, as though they never ventured outdoors.’

Father Jakob and Mother Sarah confirmed that Mother Jacqueline was not being judgemental, the new couple was odd in a way that disturbed all of my parents. However, my parents were very strict about manners and social graces, so they still attempted to build a positive social relationship with their new neighbors. Mother Hodaya made a basket of sweet pastries, and all my parents went to introduce themselves. The new neighbors answered the door shoulder-to-shoulder, with those strange smiles on their pale faces. My parents introduced themselves, but all agreed when they told the story that the couple would only say ‘We like you and you are welcome here always’.

My parents stayed for about an hour, and in that time the couple sat on their couch, shoulder-to-shoulder, still smiling, and would barely answer any questions. Not where they came from, not what they did for a living, just repeating ‘We like you and you are welcome here always.’ Eventually, my parents left, and the couple did not even escort them to the door.

The third day after the couple moved in is when strange events started occurring. First, they painted their house to resemble that of my parents - a light cream color with a thin blue stripe around it. ‘The next day, as I tended the landscaping, the husband was outdoors also tending his landscape,” Father Issac would explain. ‘Which would not be of note, ordinarily. However, the man was wearing the exact same clothing and sun hat as I wore. This troubled me deeply, so I addressed him directly. I was not aggressive or accusing, but I did make it clear that I felt there was no coincidence that this man had both painted his home to look like ours and clothed himself to look like me. But he only stared at me with that permanent smile.’

After that, my parents took it in turns to watch the couple more closely. Within weeks, the neighbors purchased a vehicle identical to that of my parents. This time, Mother Sarah and Father Jakob went to speak with the couple. They asked directly why the couple felt the need to copy our family. The couple would only say ‘We like our neighbors. We like you.’ At that time, Mother Sarah saw something that upset her and made excuses for them to leave. She would not explain why she was upset until they were back inside the house. All my parents sat together so Mother Sarah could tell them what she saw. Despite all her discipline, she was close to tears and clung tightly to Mother Hodaya and Mother Jacquelilne for comfort.

When she finally calmed down, she explained. ‘While we were at the home of the neighbors, I could see inside their bedroom.’ Mother Hodaya admonished her, but she continued. ‘They left the door open, almost as if they wanted me to see. And I am glad for my curiosity, as I saw something upsetting. Their bedroom… It looked identical to our own.’

All of my parents fell silent, only to be broken when Father Issac stood and left the room. He returned shortly after, with recording equipment, which he set up in their bedroom, facing their door. ‘The neighbors have never been invited into our home, nor have they been on the property that I am aware of.’

That night, none of my parents slept well, but they did eventually sleep. In the morning, they reviewed the recording. Surely enough, the neighbors somehow entered the house and came into my parents room. However, their smiles were gone Instead, their faces were contorted with murderous rage and hatred.

Father Jakob and Father Issac, not prone to violence in ordinary circumstances, both gathered baseball bats from my brothers’ rooms and stormed over to the house next door. They pounded on the door, but no one answered. For the sake of protecting our family, they eventually decided to break down the door.

The house was empty. Even though the car was still outside, everything in the house was packed neatly in boxes, stacked in the living room, but the couple was gone. They never came back for their possessions, or their car. My parents took the recording to the authorities, and they searched everywhere for the pair. They were only able to find out that the identities used were stolen from a couple in another country. My parents packed up my family and moved far, far away for peace of mind.”

Polite applause followed the end of Grey’s story. They stood up and gave a joking half-bow, smiling. “I am not certain of the veracity of the story, especially after so long since having read it.”

“You did a good job,” Maverick reassured her. “I liked it a lot. It reminded me of some of the stories my dad would tell me growing up, about demons and spirits that could steal your face.”

“They appear in most cultures,” Tyche added. “We’re very attached to our identities. They’re something we build around ourselves, how we control what people perceive of us. My identity is what makes me… well, me.” She held up a hand and looked at it thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I have a story. A man - some say he is the devil, others say he is evil, or simply the evil that lives inside the father - passes the home of a farmer, or maybe a miller, one day. The man, maybe the devil, maybe his own lack of conscience, offers the homeowner either extreme wealth or just enough to get by, in exchange for what is behind the home.

Regardless of what the homeowner thought stood behind his home - whether it’s a cow, a pig, or a tree - it is his daughter. She is always bright, lovely, pure, clean. So wonderfully pure and clean that evil cannot redeem its prize.” Tyche spat the word pure like it was an obscenity, and I fought the urge to smile as she continued.

“So the daughter is forced to stand - maybe in a magic circle, maybe tied, but always bound - and not allowed to bathe. Forced to become unclean. However, her weeping washes her hands, and they remain pure and clean. So, the evil that pushes the hand of her father forces him to cut off her hands, thinking to remove the last clean part of her.

Of course, regardless of the evil, the reasoning, or the binding, she weeps over the wounds. Because she is still faultless by virtue of her sorrow at her circumstance - her lack of autonomy, her mutilation, the betrayal of her parent, she is in no way complicit, regardless - the evil still cannot touch her. Finally, it surrenders, leaving her unwhole.

She leaves, seeking her own fortune. Whether it is because she is cast out or because she was no longer wanted, betrayal is betrayal. Either way, she later meets a king, who finds her bright and lovely, and marries her. He always has new hands crafted for her, always - by might or magic - of silver.

But what happens between ‘happily ever’ and that ubiquitous 'after’?

She bears a child. Changeling or simply a girl, because of the child she is driven out by the king or his family. Regardless, she is again abandoned to cruel fate.

This time she happens upon a hut. An angel, a witch… It depends who is telling the story, but someone has mercy upon a single mother - the only true mercy in her life - and allows her to raise her child in the same humble manner she herself was raised. The child - changeling, or girl, or maybe both, it doesn’t matter - grows strong, and so does the mother’s hands. The silver hands fall away, always, replaced by her own that were lost to cruel whim.

After the child grows strong, they encounter the king in the wilderness. He follows this child - unwittingly his own - to their home. For healing, for succor, or simply for curiosity… The tales say any and all, but the reason doesn’t matter: after several years, the king sees his queen again. She is bright, and pure, and lovely, and clean, no matter what has happened in her life. And finally, she is whole. Whether by angel or witch - but never by man - she has found her wholeness.

The reunion scene happens - maybe he recognizes her, maybe she tells him. But here? Here, the tales always lie.

The tales say she always, always, forgives him, and 'ever after’ starts.”

As her singsong tone faded, everyone was left speechless. “I’ve heard that story before,” Conor spoke up, finally breaking the silence. “A different version, but the same tale.”

“It exists in most cultures, apparently,” Tyche clarified. “But her identity never changed, only how she looked on the outside.”

Almost everyone’s eyes threatened to pop out of their heads, except Arthur, who nodded. “That makes sense. It doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

“Believe me, it gets worse,” she sighed airly, without clarifying.

Simon lunged forward to grab another drink. “Nope. No thanks. Worse than that is something I can live without, if I have the choice.”

Grey blinked slowly before composing their face. “Be glad you have that choice.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #camping trip #found family #original sci fi #scary stories #aliens #apocalypse #science fiction #ghosts

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itsa-lie · 3 years

Text

The “Death” Of A Liar [Epilogue of Birth Of A Liar]

A epilogue of that headcanon I wrote for Kokichi. You can read all five parts here. Will contain spoilers so read at your own risk! Trigger Warning: death, poisoning, needles, and a mention of a certain death in game.

There it was...

The Hydraulic crusher comes closer to his face. It was slow, painfully so. The pain in his body was unbearable. The poison was going through his body at an accelerating rate. Kokichi slowly turn his head to the side to see Kaito. His face was a literal mess. His face was full of tears, red and puffy, nose running like a faucet of snot. Oh jeez...if he wasn’t so in pain he’d make fun of this big hero guy bawling like a baby. Though he could only give a smile to him. And a small pained chuckle.

“C-C’mon Kaito, you’re the hero guy, right? You’re about to defeat the baddest villain ever. You shouldn’t be crying. Ya...ya..big baby...”

Kaito glares back to the boy laying shirtless on his back on the press, the tears still not stopping. “You idiot! Biggest bad villain?! J-Jeez! You’re doing this to stop the Mastermind! This was all your plan! Don’t...don’t say you’re a villian, alright? You’ve done some stupid things but...”

Kokichi cut the purple haired teen off with a weak “nee-hee-hee” as he turns his head back to the slowly descending iron. “You always were an idiot...” Kaito slams his fist on the control panel angrily, still filled with sorrow. “I am NOT an idiot!” Kokichi laughs again, the press only a few feet from his face. “You’re too trusting...I mean...you’re trusting me right? ....thank you for that...even if it is an idiotic decision...but hey....maybe I’m an idiot too right? I am trying to stop this horrible game.” Kokichi’s breathing gets shallow, each breath was an exhausting experience now. Even if it hurt horribly, Kokichi smiles.

“It’s like those movies, yeah? A hero and their side-kick try to beat the super villain, the villain causes so much trouble for a few more movies, then finally after a big climatic battle the hero finally defeats the villain.” The press was only a few inches from his face now, he couldn’t turn back to see Kaito without being even more in pain than he already was. Not to mention his constant wheezing from Maki’s poison made it hard for him to even talk. He had to hurry this up.

“I’m...not the final villain, you hero guys still gotta...find them but...but at least...I wasn’t boring...right?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“SIMULATION TERMINATED. EJECTING...EJECTING...”

The horrible pain of getting every sort of bone crushed in your body suddenly halted as a robotic voice echoed in the air. There were sounds of machinery opening and whirling, yet everything was still so dark, so odd...

What felt like a cool breeze hit Kokichi’s face as he could feel some sort of apparatuses snap off or out of his body. And then he fell face first into a tiled floor. A cold, unforgiving, tiled floor. Grunting, Kokichi sits up and rubs his nose from the fall. ...wait...everything didn’t feel like a pancake...was he...alive? Should he dare open his eyes? Okay...on the count of three...one....two...three! His eyes wandered to his hands, both looking normal, except he was in some sort of different clothes. They looked familiar, but kinda boring. Oh God this was hell wasn’t it? Only the Devil himself would have everyone in such boring school uniforms. Kokichi missed his DICE outfit but hey, no one cared about him anyway so maybe hell was where he deserved to be. He wasn’t complaining. But if it was hell, where was the fire? Or the demons? Or the Devil and his pitchfork?

But the only place he saw was a white room. A white room full off odd sci-fy like pods. Some pods were empty, but others did have people inside them. They happened to look a lot like the surviving classmates, one of which seemed to be tossing and turning wildly.

“Kaito?”

That was Kaito alright...only he wasn’t wearing his usual jacket and tee shirt, he seemed to be wearing a drab school outfit as well. Wait...how did he get to hell? This guy was Mister Perfect! Why would he end up in a place that bad guys go to if he’s the hero? Maybe he should have a talk with God and get Him to reconsider. That was...if he could get out of this room! But what was this weird pod everyone was in? Was he in one as well? Upon turning around there was indeed a pod just like everyone else had. The inside had a soft plush interior as well as a weird white halo-like contraption at the front. There also seemed to be tubes and needles that were on the side. Wait...what did the tube go to-never mind, he looked in and regretted it. It was apparently attached to a catheter bag...okay new idea, no more trying to explore weird tubes and stuff.

However a noise coming from the other side of the room caught his attention. A girl had come in. She looks exhausted, her breathing fast and rapid, her face as red as an apple from exertion. Short brown hair framed her face and she wore a very fancy middle school uniform. Honestly she looked familiar but for some reason Kokichi couldn’t figure out who she was. “Kokichi! I ran here as soon as I saw and-”

“Finally! Satan! I’ve been waiting for you. Ya know, I really wasn’t expecting you to be a little girl, I thought you’d be a bit intimidating or somethi-”

Before he could finish that statement the girl slapped him hard making him stumble back holding his hand to his face. The girl looked angry as hell.

“I saw everything! What was wrong with you? You called out that Kaede girl, and that poor bug man, and-and-and-well you did so much I don’t even want to think of it!” She was shaking with rage. Was this girl just a fan of the show? No...she might have been but if this was just some random passerby saying these words to him he wouldn’t care. But for some reason coming from...whoever this is...it made him feel extreme guilt? But just like always...Kokichi hides his real emotions behind a blank stare.

The girl stopped her ranting and looked up at Kokichi, her eyes still watering. “Don’t you...remember me?”

A blank face, a white lie, a half-truth.

“Nope. Not at all.”

This answer got the girl more upset as she began to sob. “You don’t remember me, do you?” She rummages through her back pocket as she pulls out a poorly drawn clown mask and places it on her face. And for the first time...Kokichi was at a loss for words. That mask was important! Yeah, in his memory he remembered it looking much better but this was DICE’s logo! Their uniform! All of the members had one. However he couldn’t get himself to say anything! Say something! Say anything, stupid!

“I knew it...” The girl places her mask back. “I’m Hanako! The person you promised to take care of DICE if you were ever gone! And now you betrayed everything our organization ever stood for by acting like a mean selfish brat! And not only that!” She stares daggers at the pod containing what appears to be a sleeping Maki. “Big sister tried to kill you! I don’t know what happened in this game but it’s like I don’t even know who you two are anymore! You’re like two evil strangers!” Before she could go on her rant, two policemen had entered from an unseen stairway. Come to think of it that was probably how Hanako got in.

“Only Crew-members and participants are allowed through this point, little girl.” One says grabbing the girl’s arm. “Ah, her uniform. She must be from that fancy shmancy all girls orphanage not too far from here. According to my records she escapes a lot.”

“Let me go! I-I have to go back to DICE! I hate that orphanage!” Hanako tries to struggle out of the man’s grip but to no avail.

“Wait just a second, fatso! I was talking to her!” Kokichi demands. This girl was being forced back to a place against her will and even if he was the Ultimate Supreme Leader Of Evil, he definitely wasn’t going to sit back and watch these two bully her! Not only that, this girl had information on DICE, maybe she knows the truth. “Shuddup pipsqueak. You got what you deserved.” One cop completely discarded him.

“Wait, what happened? Did the little grape kid kill anyone directly yet? Shit did I miss his execution?”

“Almost. Seems he tried to kill that Kaito guy under a giant press but then suddenly outta nowhere the complete opposite happens an’ Kaito is alive an’ the supreme leader is squashed like a grape!”

“Shoot! I missed it! Did they record the squashin’?”

“No but you know, they do show his body...or what’s left of it anyways. Plus they do a whole play-by-play anyway with a reenactment of what happened. Sadly I think they’re gonna execute the Kaito kid next...”

“A shame, but at least he’ll go out as a hero, right?”

Kaito...execution...he knew this would happen...and he didn’t really want it to. Hell...after seeing so many of his friends die Kokichi was willing to go through an execution as well out of extreme guilt for not finishing this “destroy Daganronpa” plan quick enough! But at least Kaito will die as a hero, and he’ll most likely die of his disease before Monokuma could really kill him. The thought of that bear being frustrated with that filled Kokichi with so much joy. He smiles a little, only to be pushed away like trash by the cops as they take the girl back up.

“.........”

That’s right...he was the “mastemind”. The guy who kept causing trouble for everyone in the game. The bad guy. The antagonist. That’s what he was now...to the world, to Maki, to Hanako, and most likely to DICE themselves. Whoever Kokichi Ouma was before the Killing Game was gone. Everyone forgot that version, even Kokichi himself...no one would want him around anymore. So it was settled. He won’t go back to his orphanage...he won’t go back to DICE, they tore down their headquarters anyway. He was going to hide away. He’s been doing that for years now and he was good at it. Why stop now? With his blank stare which hid tons and tons of pain, he made his way up the stairs to start his new life who knows where.

---------------------------------------

“Will that be for here or to go?”

“Uhhhh....I think I’ll take it to go. Oh, can I get some extra ketchup?”

“Sure. Alright m’am. Have a happity-happy day.”

God he hated saying that, but he had to. It’s part of Happity Burger’s policy. The woman had to double take looking at him too. No doubt she recognizes him. Shit.

Good thing he was on his break. His manager was apparently not into television shows so he didn’t mind hiring him, though still he hid his name-tag or borrowed a co-workers anytime he needed one for the uniform. Yeah flipping burgers and singing that same stupid happy birthday song to some kid who was this close to barfing on you wasn’t a glorious life but...hey it was a way to get by. Once you get through the stares that is.

And people stared.

A lot.

Ugh.

It was during his break that he got a text from an unknown number. Kokichi slightly looked at his phone to see who it was.

Unknown: Hello? Unknown: Do I have the right number?

Who would even text him besides his boss? He rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at memes trying to get a chuckle out of his depressing life. He looks around to see more people looking at him. Tch..he turn around to the window in the booth he was sitting at, ignoring the trash and spills on the table from the family who ate here before.

Ding!

Unknown: Kokichi Ouma?

Okay that surprised him for a second. Hardly anyone knew his name because he wouldn’t tell it, so how the hell would they know?

You: Sorry, wrong number.

Well he was a liar after all. According to his phone he had only a few minutes of break time left before the lunch rush comes in. He cursed to himself and cleaned up the table he was sitting at. As he did he thought about all of his friends...not all his memories had come back...though some came back quicker than others. He did remember the Killing Game participants vividly though. Kaede, Shuichi, Kiiboy, Kaito,...Maki. Actually now that he’s older and an adult now he holds no ill will towards Maki. The fact that girl...whoever she was...remembered both him and her meant something. He still hasn’t figured that out. But that Kokichi Ouma was dead. Crushed by a Hydraulic press much to the delight of an entire audience of strangers. Shuichi was right.

He was always going to be alone.

And he was used to it. There was nothing he could do about it. The universe hated him. And honestly...he hated himself too.

Another ding. What do they want now?

Unknown: Yep. It’s you alright. It’s been five or six years, hasn’t it? Meet me outside after work, I want to talk to you.

#kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #kokichi headcanons #ndrv3 #drv3

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: Chris Redfield’s deception is coming to an end in this second part of the story but not in the way he expected.

Author’s note: This fanfic was supposed to be 2 chapters long, but considering all the things I originally wrote in this second chapter, I chose to cut it in two and write a third chapter to develop the story a bit more . Hope you will like it anyway.

Part 1 is available here / Fanfiction also available on AO3

Warnings: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Language.

Wet hair, forehead covered in pearls of sweat, Chris was gazing at you, panting and exhausted, his hot uneven breath tickling your face when you nudged his rear with your ankles to keep him inside of you, still feeling his cock in your core throbbing like crazy after the powerful orgasm he had just experienced. “Damn, woman. Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed out and you giggled “What? Have you lost your stamina?” “No, but I’m afraid you dried me. I’ve got nothing left.” You laughed, finding his naughty words more ridiculous than funny. “I think you’ll have to wait till tonight for round 3.” He pecked your nose and pulled out of you to get off the bed, majestic body glistening in sweat. “I’m gonna go get a shower.” “And I’m going to try and find my clothes.” You looked at the mess around you. Both yours and Chris’ clothes were scattered everywhere in his bedroom. A perfect picture of how wild and hot this afternoon alone together had been. “Good luck with that.” Chris humoured as he left the room, completely naked. Guess that was a good thing your roommate was not here this afternoon.

You got up, draped in his bed sheet, your body sore and still very hot and sticky. Chris had asked you if you were trying to kill him. Well, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if he wasn’t the one who wanted you were trying to kill you judging by the your dishevelled hair and the swarm of dark hickeys he had left all over your chest and collar bones. Oh, he would hear about this!

You started gathering your clothes and Chris’, picking them up one by one onto the floor and the furniture. “Damn, where are my panties?” You cursed as you scanned the room but they were nowhere to be seen. So, you looked for them in the pile of clothes then under the blanket, actually unable to remember what Chris had done with them. Maybe under the bed. You knelt and peaked under the mattress. There was nothing as well, except a lot of dust and bits of fluff that immediately tickled your nose. But as you kept looking under the bed, something weird caught your attention. There was a sort of red cord hanging in between two slats of the bed base. It made you frown because it strangely looked like the cord of your Umbrella access badge. But it couldn’t be that. You had lost that badge weeks ago, probably in the Metropolitain. Its presence here, especially under Chris’ mattress was simply impossible and completely illogical. And yet, you pulled on the cord anyway.

What a horrible surprise when you saw the card fall onto the floor and realised it was indeed your old badge. How had it gotten here? You didn’t know what to think. But you couldn’t help but hear the same question repeating itself in your head. Why Chris? Why?

The badge in your hands, you sat on the bed, lost in sudden paranoid thoughts that were so unlike you. What if Chris was a spy? What if he was working for Tricell or the Connections? After all, those guys had been trying to compete with Umbrella for years. What if he worked for the Government? What if … So many ‘what if’ and yet one single common denominator. Chris had betrayed you.

You didn’t know how to process all the emotions you were feeling right now. Burning anger. Frozen shock. Both mixed with a awful sorrow that didn’t seem to want to escape in the form of tears just yet, not as long as you were trying to deny all the conclusions you had drawn and convince yourself that you were imagining things. There was certainly another explanation.

You stood up and started walking in circles in the room like a lion in a cage, whispering to yourself. “Calm down, Y/N. Calm down.” But you couldn’t. And despite all the energy you were using to control your breathing right now, there was that raging uncontrollable panic inside of you growing bigger by the minute. “Alright, if he’s truly spying on you. There must be something else here. There has to be. Think.” You opened Chris’ wardrobe and started rummaging in it. You sighed, relieved, when you found nothing in it except some dirty clothes that definitely needed some good washing. But it wasn’t enough to soothe your mind and so you pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and immediately threw the contents to the floor. A pen, a watch, cigarettes, condoms and an unsealed letter that you immediately grabbed. “S.T.A.R.S. Office – Raccoon City Police Department.” You read on the envelope and your clever brain immediately made the connection between that address and the incident with the American branch of Umbrella you had overheard at the lab weeks ago. But it was still very blurry to you.

You opened the enveloped without an ounce of hesitation or remorse and started reading.

“To my amazing S.T.A.R.S. buds,

What’s up in the station? Still surviving those long days without me? Barry, are you still crying? Me? I’ve been very busy. Spent many nights getting to know my umbrella girl better. Apparently she has some huge project for the both of us. I’m wondering what it can be. She’s so secretive. But no woman can resist Chris Redfield. You know me, I’m worse than a parasite. Jill, any news from Claire? ”

You barely knew Chris. But the Chris in that letter wasn’t the one you had spent your days with for the last seven weeks or so. This letter certainly had a hidden meaning and judging by the word ‘umbrella’, ‘project’ and ‘parasite’, it wasn’t very subtle. You gritted your teeth, anger slowly getting the better of you, and crumpled the letter in your hand.

“What are you doing?” Chris’ sudden trembling voice made you jumped. You turned around, still kneeled among his stuff, and immediately glared at him. He was standing in the doorframe, wearing only a pair of green sweatpants. His face was pale and you could read a certain fear in his usually very cheerful and relaxed features. “Y/N?” You got back on your feet and approached him, the letter and your badge in the same hand. Chris froze when he noticed them and his heart skipped in beat.

You didn’t say a word – an ominous calm before the storm – and went too stand before him to look at him in his scared brown eyes. A couple of seconds passed in which you mind struggled to find out what to do right now, not really knowing how to react. You finally let your impulse get the upper and suddenly, your hand burned Chris’ cheek with a huge slap. You had never hit anyone in your entire life. That was not who you were. But the storm was here and you couldn’t control it. You violently slammed both items against Chris’ broad naked chest and started screaming and hitting him, lashing out all your anger at him like a fury. “How could you?! You son of a bitch!” Chris barely flinched and took all your hits in silence, knowing that he deserved them, that he deserved all your rage right now. They didn’t hurt but your wrath against him did. “Answer me!” He could feel a knot strangling his throat. He couldn’t talk. He didn’t know what to say, afraid to make things worse. “Answer me, you asshole!” You yelled and he finally caught your wrists in an attempt to calm you down and prevent you from getting physically hurt. “Y/N, please.” He whispered, holding you still. “Why?” You asked, huge tears rolling over your face. “Why?” You repeated, begging for an answer, for an explanation. But all you got was silence and guilty miserable eyes. “Are you a spy?”

“ No … No I’m not a spy. Not exactly.” He finally managed to say. “I’m a cop.” You frowned, finding things always too blurry to understand the situation. “I work at the Raccoon City Police Department, S.T.A.R.S. unit.” “So you’re not Air Force?” He shook his head. “And you’re definitely not on vacation.” You fell the floor crumble under your feet, afraid of the extent of Chris’ lies and terrified of the consequences that were to come. “I’m on a mission, a personal mission.” He confessed with a broken voice. He didn’t look so strong anymore. “What mission?” “How about we get dressed and sit down to talk about it calmly?” He offered. But you didn’t care you were naked under this sheet right now. And you didn’t care Chris was only wearing sweatpants. You wanted your answers. And you wanted them now. “No. Talk to me now. Explain it to me. Explain the fucking reason why you used me and betrayed me.”

Chris briefly closed his eyes. Hearing those words coming from you were hard to bear even if he had been repeating them over and over in his head since the day he met you. They were hard to bear because hearing them from you was making him realise what he really had been doing all along. They were the painful truth that had finally come to hit him hard in the face.

He tried to catch your hands in his but you removed them as soon as you felt the warm palms against your skin. You didn’t want his affection right now. It repulsed you. “In July, my unit and I were sent on a mission in the Arklay Mountains to rescue the members of the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team who had gone missing while investigating a series of killings in the mountains. As soon as we landed, creatures attacked us and we took refuge in a mansion but that was just the beginning of the nightmare. My unit was entirely decimated by zombie-like creatures and other atrocities, monsters that had been created by the Umbrella Corporation thanks to what their scientists called the T-Virus.” You froze. You had heard of the T-virus. You were using it in most of your experiments related to the Nemesis Project. Its existence was top secret. So if Chris knew, then … “The surviving members of my team and I infiltrated Umbrella’s laboratory to collect evidence. That’s how we realised that Umbrella had failed to contain their virus and that it had escaped the facility, contaminating and killing locals that had been in contact with it. Only four of us came back.” Chris’ voice was so full of emotions. Sadness, grief, anger, guilt. It tied your stomach in a painful knot. “When we told our story to our chief, he refused to believe us. Somehow we understood he was probably corrupted. So I decided to leave and investigate on Umbrella on my own to find all the evidence I needed to end them and bring justice to my team. That’s how I took the first flight to Paris and that’s how I met you.”

You remained still for a while, trying to process the entire story. But even if there was a part of you that was sympathising with Chris and recognizing the horrors he had been through, there was still another part that was so mad at him and deeply resentful. “So you used me for your personal vendetta?” “It’s not a vendetta.” He tried to correct. “Isn’t it?” You retorted and he sighed, a slight annoyance tinting his despair.

“You stole my badge and certainly spied on me judging by the content of this letter to, I quote, bring justice to your team and end Umbrella. Sounds more like a vendetta than a mission to me. But tell me. I’m curious. What else did you do?” “Y/N.” He murmured, unwilling to admit that part of the story to you. “Stop Y/N me and answer the damn questions! Why did you want my badge? What did you discover when you spied on me? And more especially why me, Chris?!” He looked you in your begging eyes, feeling painfully sorry. “I don’t know why it happened to be you. I guess it could have been anyone else. But I’ve never…” He cupped your cheeks and you took a step back, trying to reject him, in vain. “…ever wanted to hurt you or use you like that.” A new tear slid along your cheek and Chris dried it with his thumb. “That wasn’t my intentions. I just got bogged down in my own lies and the situation escaped my control … and… I don’t expect your apology.” “ Good. Cause you won’t have it.” You spat and he looked down, trying to contain his sadness. “You should have been honest with me.” “ I had no choice.” Chris said in his defence but you would not have it. “No choice?” You scoffed. “The second you felt like the situation was becoming out of your control, you had a choice. Give up, watch it become out of proportion or tell me the fucking truth!” “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He confessed and you sighed, exasperated. “You said it already but look! Here we are!” You screamed. “I’m hurt! I’m fucking hurt because of you.” That was harsh yet fair. “Can’t you at least understand why I did this? Can’t you put yourself in my shoes for a second?” He knew he would not have your forgiveness but he hoped to have your understanding.

You jaw dropped. “Oh but I do understand, Chris! I do! I know what Umbrella is doing is terrible. I know what I’m doing is terrible. But if you had just talked to me, I would have helped you. We…” “Helped me?” He harrumphed. “You’ve been creating dangerous monsters in your lab for months. And now you’re talking about doing what’s right? Well by all means, explain Project Nemesis!” He growled, finally starting to show his anger, and your eyes widened. “Oh so you read my journal as well. Fantastic!” “Yes, I read your journal. I stole your badge. I sent information to my colleagues and I used you. But what is it in comparison to all the awful things you and your scientists buds have been working on in secret in this god-forsaken lab of yours?! You guys are murderers!” You stared at him, bewildered and feeling insulted but the truth was that he was right and you couldn’t help but acknowledge it. “I feel guilty, Y/N. I feel guilty because I know that what I did hurt you. I feel guilty because I happen to care so fucking much about you despite all the reasons I have to despise you. Guilt is eating me up, day and night. But, tell me. how do you sleep at night knowing you’re creating those atrocities?” “Guess you didn’t read my diary so well, did you?” Your calm was back, your anger certainly drowned in pain and sadness. “You know shit, Chris. But if that’s what you think of me the maybe you should probably get out.” But Chris refused to move. “Get out” You repeated with the same tone. He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but you immediately cut him off. “Get out!” You yelled, pushing him as strongly as you could, but he barely moved. “Get out of my place, Chris!” And he didn’t know why he refused to leave or move from that doorframe. Stubbornness? Denial? Or simply his deep attachment for you? But whatever it was, you would not have Chris spend another minute in your apartment. “Fine.” You opened his wardrobe and started throwing his clothes in his suitcase, tears running down your face, as Chris watched you, still and quiet. It was the end. He could feel it in his bones. You grabbed his suitcase and shoved Chris with your shoulder as you left his room to head towards the main door and throw his stuff carelessly in the corridor. Then you went back to lock yourself in your room. “And don’t forget your precious evidence before leaving!”

Chris blinked a couple times to keep his tears in his eyes when he heard the door to your room slam shut, knowing that this was certainly the last time he would ever see you or hear from you. And it ached more than what he had imagined. How he wished things had ended up differently.

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #under her large umbrella #fanfic #resident evil

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pikapeppa · 4 years

Text

Felassan/f!Lavellan: She Who Dances With Fire

Chapter 4 of The Love That Grows From Violence (Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is up on AO3!

In which there is some sad backstory reveal, and Felassan is a brat. ❤

~6490 words; read on AO3 instead.

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

Late the next morning, Tamaris opened her bedroom door to the smell of bacon.

Her stomach growled in response, and she wandered downstairs to find Felassan in the main room. He was lounging on a pile of silk cushions on the plush angora carpet in front of the fire, and there was an array of breakfast foods on the dining table: some lightly charred toast, half of a perfect sunny-yellow omelette, and a few rashers of bacon, along with a beautifully presented plate of fruit, half of which had been eaten.

“Is this for me?” she asked in surprise.

“Unless you’re harbouring another ancient elven refugee in your house that I’m unaware of, yes,” he said. “It’s for you.”

A quip first thing in the morning. Of course, she thought ruefully. She gave him an exasperated look, and he smirked. “Enjoy,” he said.

She sat at the table and glanced at him once more, but he wasn’t paying attention to her; he was reading a dog-eared book, and Tamaris raised her eyebrows as she recognized it: it was a copy of This Shit Is Weird.

She pulled the omelette closer. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

“I took it from your pack last night,” he said without looking up. “I hope you don’t mind.”

She stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “You went through my pack?” she demanded.

“You said to make myself at home,” he replied.

“What’s next, then?” she said archly. “Are you going to be going through my underwear? Or did you pick your favourites out of my pack already?”

“I resisted going that far,” he said. Then he smiled slyly at her. “Besides, I prefer to go without undergarments.”

That fucking shit-eating smirk… Tamaris couldn’t laugh. She couldn’t. She didn’t dare give him the satisfaction. She took a big bite of toast to stop herself from smiling. “Is that a custom from ancient Elvhenan?” she said snarkily. “No underwear?”

“From what I’ve heard, you should know the answer to that question already,” he replied.

This was the third or fourth time he’d alluded to her past relationship with Solas. All of a sudden, a burst of anger roiled in her chest.

She lowered her fork and turned on her chair to face him fully. “You want to know about me and Solas?” she said in a hard voice. “Fine. Solas and I were lovers, all right? But he broke up with me, and then he left without explaining why, and then he showed up two years later to tell me that — surprise! — he was the fucking Dread Wolf all along and he just decided not to tell me. And oh, by the way, he was planning to destroy the world all along.” She broke off and took a deep breath to try and calm her temper, then glared at Felassan. “Have you heard enough, or are you going to keep asking me about my fucking sex life?”

He didn’t reply right away. His face was pleasant and calm despite the anger she’d thrown at him, and through her residual rage, her gut twisted; there was something about his expression that actually reminded her of Solas.

No, not just of Solas; of Abelas, too, that Sentinel from the Well of Sorrows. It was like the calm in Felassan’s face was born not from an even temper, but from some deeper understanding of things that Tamaris couldn’t fathom – some deeper understanding that led to an even deeper sense of melancholy.

Then he smiled, and the smile chased away the ineffable world-weariness in his face. “Well, that’s disappointing,” he said. “Now you’ve ruined the end of this book for me.” He closed the book and put it down, then settled back on the silk cushions and folded his arms behind his head.

Tamaris stared at him for a moment longer, then finally returned to her omelette. They were both silent for a time, Tamaris eating her breakfast while Felassan lounged in front of the fire. He looked happy enough, with his eyes closed and his bare foot waving idly as though to a tune that Tamaris couldn’t hear. By the time she’d finished eating the surprisingly delicious omelette and the bacon, however, her hunger was gone, replaced by guilt.

She turned around to face him once more. “You can keep that book if you want.”

He lazily cracked open one eye. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you.”

She shrugged. “I can always get another copy from Varric. Which reminds me…” She trailed off. She was about to say she was planning to go visit him at the Viscount’s Keep, but Felassan’s presence changed things. Tamaris didn’t want to leave Felassan alone in case his emotions and his magic got the better of him, but she also couldn’t very well bring Solas’s supposed-to-be-dead ex-agent out in public, either.

“Is something wrong?” Felassan asked.

“Ye– well, not exactly,” she said. “I was going to go visit Varric at his office today, but I just realized I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to leave you on your own in case you do something dangerous by accident,” she said bluntly.

“Ah,” he said. “I see. A volatile apostate wandering the city is less than ideal.”

She gave him an odd look. “We don’t really use the word ‘apostate’ anymore. The College of Enchanters are encouraging people to say ‘free mages’ now instead of ‘apostates’.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “College of Enchanters. Interesting. And how do the Circle mages feel about the implication that they are not free? Assuming the Circles were reinstated.”

Tamaris frowned, even more bemused by this. How did he not know the Chantry Circles had been reinstated? It had been a few years now. “They… yes, they were, unfortunately,” she said. “And to answer your question: they, uh, don’t love it. It’s a source of constant debate from what I’ve heard, but I’m not really looped into the latest Chantry bullshit at the moment.”

“Hm,” Felassan murmured. Then he shrugged and folded his hands over his abdomen. “Well, this is a conundrum,” he said brightly. “If you can’t go anywhere and I can’t go anywhere, it appears that we’re confined to each other’s company.”

“Looks that way,” Tamaris said wryly. “Good thing this house has a big library.”

He sighed with mock-sadness. “And here I imagined that we’d pass the time exchanging tales around the fireside. Perhaps with shadow puppets to illustrate.”

She narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like he was making another dig at her Dalish background. “Are you going to ask me dance naked in the moonlight while singing an ode to Ghilan’nain and the halla, too?” she said sarcastically.

He shot her a sharp look, then grinned roguishly. “Dance naked in the moonlight? That’s a Dalish custom I’d be agreeable to witnessing firsthand.”

“Hilarious,” she said flatly. “If anyone here should be telling stories, it’s you. That’s why you’re here, after all.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she winced at how callous she sounded. “Sorry,” she said. “I… fuck, that was rude. Actually, I…” She ran a hand through her curly hair. “Listen, I should thank you for even coming here. It’s a long way from the Hunterhorns, especially with you being all, um, fucked up still after being Tranquil.” She broke off and rubbed her mouth, then gave him a frank look. “I’m bad at apologizing. And at saying thank you. But I hope you can accept this as both.”

He shrugged. “I might. If you tell me a tale.”

She made a face. “I’m not really the storytelling kind.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. “Weaving tales is a lost art, if you ask me.” He let out another musical little sigh. “Well, if you won’t tell me a tale, then you should tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?” she said a little suspiciously. “You can read about me in that book.” She jerked her chin at This Shit Is Weird.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “This book. A story in the purest sense of the word.” He picked up the novel and looked askance at her. “How accurate is this?”

“It’s… got the broad strokes,” she hedged.

Felassan grinned, and Tamaris rolled her eyes. “Look, it wasn’t meant to be non-fiction. It’s completely based off of real events and people, and the big things are mostly accurate. But if Varric wrote everything exactly like it was, nobody would read it. It would be too…” She trailed off. Too what? Too implausible? Too boring? Too fucking awful?

Felassan, meanwhile, was still smiling. “Adjusting events to achieve a particular goal… your friend Varric really is a true storyteller. Was he a spy for your Inquisition?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? she thought snarkily, but she didn’t say it. At the very least, it would be unnecessarily rude. Furthermore, there was no reason not to answer his question. It wasn’t like he was working for Solas anymore.

“No, he wasn’t,” she said. “But he does manage a spy network here in Kirkwall, with ties far beyond the Free Marches.”

Felassan’s smile broadened. “Interesting. I would have liked to meet him.”

“You will,” she said. “He’ll come over sooner or later if I don’t show up at his office.”

“Then I’ll be honoured by the visit,” Felassan said with a little bow of his head. Somehow he managed to make the gesture look elegant even from his lazy lounging position on the floor.

Tamaris huffed and selected a slice of ripe peach from the fruit plate. She ate quietly for a little while longer, but with every passing tick of the clock on the mantle, she only became more aware of Felassan’s silent attention.

She shot him a flat look, and he raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Your avoidance is only making me more curious, you know,” he said.

“And your insistence is only making me want to throw a grape at your head,” she retorted.

“Please do,” Felassan said brightly. “I always welcome food being thrown at me.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. Then, on a whim, she plucked a grape from the fruit plate and tossed it at his face.

To her surprise, he actually caught the grape in his mouth. She blinked in surprise, and he shot her a grin as he chewed it. “Does this mean you’ll talk now?” he said.

She tsked at him and popped a grape in her own mouth, and Felassan leisurely shifted onto his side to face her. “Back in Arlathan, we used to say that the most bountiful catch lies in the quietest pools, for their depths are unplumbed.”

She scoffed. “That’s what you used to say, huh?”

“It is,” he said. “And you shouldn’t scoff at me. It’s a compliment.”

She gave him a hard look. “You don’t know that I have unplumbed depths. Maybe I’m just a shallow angry bitch.”

He snickered at this. “A truly shallow person wouldn’t consider the possibility that they are shallow.”

She pursed her lips, and Felassan tilted his head pleadingly. “Come now, Tamaris. It is a small thing I ask – a little information about my hostess. Would you really begrudge a man who’s been living in a cave for years?”

A chill ran down her spine. “You were living in a cave all this time?” she blurted.

“No,” he said. An annoying grin lit his handsome face. “But that got your attention, didn’t it?”

She pursed her lips at his irreverence, then frowned. “Where were you for the past few years, then?” she said. She pulled a little face. “I… damn, I should have asked yesterday, I’m sorry.”

“If I tell you this, will you tell me something about yourself?” he said.

She frowned and toyed with the fruit plate, and Felassan spoke again in a cajoling tone. “A story for a story. It is a fair trade.”

She sighed. “Fuck’s sake. Fine. You first, though. Where were you for the past few years?”

“In no one place, as it happens,” he said. He turned into his back once more and nestled comfortably into the silk cushions. “When I was first… struck low, shall we say, I was in a remote part of the Planacene Forest. I remained there alone for some time. I was near death when I was found by a Dalish hunter.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Shit,” she said. “How long was that?”

“I can’t be certain,” he said. “Several days, I’m sure. The hunter took me back to his clan, and they restored me from the brink of death.”

She frowned slightly at this. If he’d been saved by a Dalish clan, why did he seem to have so much disdain for them?

“The Dalish that took you in,” she said carefully. “Were they… weren’t they kind to you?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Tamaris frowned more deeply. How could he not know if they'd been kind?

He was still speaking. “They gave me food and water and clean clothes. They healed my wounds and gave me medicine for pain. I believe they were…” He paused and tilted his head thoughtfully. “‘Unnerved’ would be the best word for it.”

“Yes, they would have been,” Tamaris said quietly. “They’d probably never met a Tranquil before.” Tamaris certainly hadn’t met any Tranquil before she’d fallen in with the Inquisition, and she still remembered the first time she’d met a Tranquil at Haven.

She still remembered excusing herself as politely as she could, then stumbling into the first empty room she could find and vomiting violently onto the carpet.

A sudden memory of Marin’s haunted green eyes rose in her mind. She took a deep breath and turned her attention back to Felassan. “Were the Dalish afraid of you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said again.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she asked.

“I mean that I don’t know if they were kind or cruel or afraid. All I can tell you is what happened,” he replied. “They didn’t kill me, and they gave me the means to stay alive. If you call that kindness, then that is what they showed me.”

Tamaris recoiled slightly; there was an edge to his voice now that she hadn’t heard before. “All right,” she said cautiously.. “And… you mentioned that you didn’t stay in one place. I assume you left the Planacene Forest with the clan?”

“Yes,” he said. “The clan left the forest and moved along the fringes of the Free Marches. Their Keeper was hoping to encounter another clan to trade with.”

Tamaris studied him worriedly as he spoke. His voice was becoming flat, and it was a clear departure from his usual expressive tone.

“And did they find another clan?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “They ran afoul of some rogue Templars. Deserters from Kirkwall who were seeking lyrium.”

Her heart seized. “Oh. Oh fuck.”

He nodded a brief acknowledgement. “They approached the clan and demanded lyrium. There was an altercation with deaths on both sides, but the clan had no lyrium to give.”

Fucking Templars, she thought angrily. “Of course they didn’t have fucking lyrium,” she gritted out. “Most clans don’t really use it.”

Felassan nodded, and Tamaris noted bemusedly that his expression was as neutral now as his tone. “The Templars appeared to be desperate,” he said. “They looted some weapons and food from the clan, and they took me with them.”

“The Templars took you?” she asked. “Why?”

“One of the Templars had a contact who knew someone in the Carta,” he replied.

“The Carta?” she said with growing confusion.

“Yes,” Felassan said. “The Templars traded me to the Carta in exchange for lyrium.”

His voice was completely emotionless now. With a chill, Tamaris realized why his narrative style seemed so strange: he was recounting these events as he would have remembered them as a Tranquil — as a series of objective, factual events with no emotional investment.

For a second, she couldn’t breathe. Then she rose from her chair and sat beside him on the rug.

He shot her a look of surprise, but she gently pressed on with the conversation. “How long were you with the Templars for?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “A month. Maybe two.” He paused for a moment, and when Tamaris didn’t speak either, he shot her a tiny smile — a hint of his usual humour.

“You aren’t going to ask if the Templars were kind to me?” he said. “Or do you know the answer to that already?”

“I can guess,” Tamaris said, very quietly.

His wry smile faded, and he looked away from her toward the fire. “They gave me enough food and water to stay alive. And they beat me.”

Her stomach writhed, even though his words came as no shock. She shifted a little closer to him, and he shot her another look of surprise.

She steadily met his wide violet eyes. “I’m sorry for what they did to you,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment, then looked away once more. “Don’t be. I didn’t feel it. I felt the pain, but I did not feel the rest.”

She swallowed hard. Was that how it was for all Tranquil? Feeling physical pain but no other kinds of pain?

Again, her thoughts snapped to Marin — his joyful green eyes, green just like hers. The way he used to hug her, like he was going to lift her right off the ground. The way he’d screamed when the Templars dragged him away.

She gruffly cleared her throat. “What happened next?” she murmured.

“The Carta put me to work,” Felassan said. “They thought I could work with their lyrium and make enchantments for them, which they could sell at a high price. But I have never had a particular facility with crafting. Then they discovered that I’m a dab hand at potion-making.” He smirked. “Ironic, since I only really began making potions when I woke up in your time.”

Tamaris nodded an acknowledgement, and he went on. “I made potions of various kinds for the Carta. Poisons, mostly, but other things too. I did this for years until I was bought by another dwarf. For an immense sum, or so I understand.” He gave her a tiny smile. “Someone thought I was valuable, it seemed.”

She frowned. “Who? Who bought you?”

“I didn’t know right away,” he said. “In fact, I didn’t find out who it was until I arrived at your Seeker’s sanctuary in the Hunterhorn Mountains.”

She straightened with a jolt of understanding. “It was Bianca Davri,” she said. Varric had mentioned to her yesterday that Felassan’s recovery had been thanks to a tip from Bianca.

Felassan nodded. “Yes. I spent a day at the sanctuary, and Cassandra and her people turned me back into this.” He gestured playfully at himself.

Tamaris nodded slowly. Being recovered first by the Dalish, then taken and abused by Templars, then kept as a slave by the Carta before finally being restored to himself… Her chest was hurting from the knowledge of what he’d gone through. And once again, she was stunned that he was able to maintain such a lighthearted attitude most of the time.

“Are you glad to be back to yourself?” she asked.

He looked at her sharply, and her belly did a little flip; his gaze was piercing. Then he smiled slowly. “You know, you are the only one who has asked me that.”

Her heart twisted. The fact that he hadn’t answered right away was quite telling. She waited patiently for him to speak.

He chuckled and ran a hand over his neatly bound hair. “I feel as though I am two people merged into one,” he said. “One moment I’m moving through the motions of life: cooking an omelette and enjoying the warmth of a fire and a book I stole from a pretty woman’s pack. The next moment, I’m remembering that I lived in a Carta hideout outside of Wildervale for years with almost no news of what was happening outside, and I didn’t care that I knew nothing. The memories are mine, but they’re…” He trailed off and shook his head slightly.

“Like a dream?” Tamaris supplied.

“No,” he said forcefully, to her surprise. “Not at all like a dream.” He looked at her once more, and his face was utterly serious. “I once walked in dreams with steps as certain as those you use to cross the rooftops. These memories, these — the memories of being Tranquil, they’re… they may as well be someone else’s thoughts forced into my head.” Then his face creased into an unexpected grin. “I spent almost five years as a shell. I was—” He interrupted himself with a snort of laughter. “I was beaten and kept indoors for weeks on end sometimes, and I didn’t care.” He snickered and shook his head, then grinned at her. “Did you know that most people don’t speak to Tranquil? They just don’t bother to speak to us. We might as well be furniture for all the attention they give us.” He laughed again, and Tamaris’s heart squeezed painfully at the hysterical edge to his laughter.

He suddenly reached under one of the silk cushions and brought out a short rod of silvery-white wood — the same piece of wood he’d been twirling in his fingers the night before. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

She examined the rod. “It’s ironwood,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “And that’s all this is.”

She eyed him warily. “I… don’t get it.”

He smiled and ran his thumb over the twisted length of wood. “It’s supposed to be a staff.”

She frowned in bemusement at the rod. It was only about the length of her foot. “But it’s so short.”

He tutted playfully. “Tamaris, Tamaris. It’s not the size of the staff; it’s how you use it.”

His tone was cheeky, and she shot him a chiding look. He chuckled and stroked the piece of wood. “More importantly, I was once able to manipulate the dimensions of a staff like this until it was the length of a normal staff.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of a staff like that.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he said pleasantly. “I made it with my own two hands and my own magic.” His smile widened, and he chuckled. “I made it with my own magic.”

Suddenly she understood. “You can’t make another staff yet, can you?” she said softly.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I can’t. I can’t… I have little control over my magic. It’s like waking up again in this world for the first time, but far worse. I was able to adjust to how weak the flow of magic is with the Veil in place, but the problem now isn’t the Veil per se.” He smiled at her, and his eyes were bright.

“The problem is me,” he said. “If I try to do a single spell, either nothing happens, or I could blow up your entire lovely gilded house. I’m—” He broke off and looked away from her, but not before she saw his face crumpling with distress.

She slowly shuffled closer to him. “Felassan, look at me.”

He shook his head tightly. His hands were still gripping the ironwood, which was starting to smoke faintly.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Don’t destroy that wood. You’ll need it to make a new staff.”

He spun toward her suddenly, and his face was twisted with rage. “Did you not hear me?” he yelled. “I can’t make a new staff. I can’t do anything that I should be able to do!”

She took a deep breath to calm her suddenly thrumming heart, then calmly held out her hand. “Can I hold on to it?”

His grip tightened for a moment, but Tamaris steadily held out her hand. Then Felassan thrust the rod at her. “Take it,” he bit off. “For all the—” He broke off with a sudden sob. “—for all the good it does me.”

She took the slightly-singed piece of ironwood and tucked it into the back of her waistband. “I’ll keep it safe for when you’re ready.”

“I may never—” Another sob choked him, and he covered his mouth for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Tamaris ignored his laughter. “You don’t know that you’ll never get better,” she said.

“You don’t know that I will!” he shouted. “None of the other Tranquil at your Seeker’s precious sanctuary could do more than the simplest spells, and some of them had been cured for months before I was!”

Tears were trickling down his face now, and his eyes were snapping with rage — and with a flicker of lightning. She took another deep breath to quash her apprehension. “Can I touch you?” she asked.

He gave her a sharp look, and she swallowed hard; his eyes were incandescent with energy and magic. Then he barked out a sudden laugh. “This is an odd time for you to proposition me, but be my guest.”

She ignored his inappropriate innuendo and took one of his hands in hers. “You have no reason to think you can’t recover,” she told him. “Just take it one day at a time.”

Felassan laughed bitterly and wiped his face, but Tamaris ignored his skepticism and squeezed his hand. “It’s one day at a time,” she insisted. “Don’t beat yourself up, all right?”

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand in turn, and Tamaris studied the dampness of his long dark eyelashes as she waited for him to respond. When he finally opened his eyes, they were no longer bright with magic.

He gave her a sardonic smile. “And what will you be doing while I’m on this perilous path to recovery? Are you going to watch over me until I am fit to leave the house?”

She shrugged and released his hand. “Honestly, why not? I’m not doing anything else.”

He gave her an appraising look. “There’s no pressure for you to take an active role in the war against Fen’Harel?”

“Not yet, thank fuck,” she said bluntly. “I think they all feel sorry for me still after what happened when I saw him last.” Her companions’ pity would usually have grated at her nerves, but if it meant they would leave her alone to lick her wounds for a while, she wasn’t going to complain.

“Mm,” Felassan murmured. “Yes, finding out that everything you thought you knew was wrong can be somewhat jarring. Not to mention losing an arm.” He eyed her mechanical left arm.

She grunted and stretched her legs out on the rug. “Don’t forget about the ‘learning that your ex-lover is the villain in every childhood story you ever heard’ part. And also that he wasn’t really a villain. Not in your time, at least.”

Felassan gasped playfully. “Ex-lover, you say? Are you telling me about your sex life after all? My ears are burning.”

She snorted. “Shut the fuck up, you brat.”

He laughed, and Tamaris was pleased to note that his laugh was back to its usual rolling lilt. “I’ll happily do so, since it’s your turn now to share something about yourself.”

She sighed and ran her metal hand through her hair. “Fine, fair’s fair. What do you want to know?”

“What I’d like to know is how you’re so calm under fire. Literally,” he said. He held up his hands, which were no longer smoking. “Most people would back away from an uncontrolled mage. You move closer. It’s pretty odd behaviour for anyone who doesn’t have a death wish.”

She clenched her jaw. Of course he had to ask the most personal possible question, even if he didn’t realize how personal it was.

She stood up and returned to her seat at the dining table. “I had an older brother, Marin. He was… unwell. I was good at calming him down.”

There was a brief silence, which Felassan eventually broke. “‘Had’?” he said.

She exhaled slowly. “He died some time ago,” she said.

“Ir abelas,” Felassan said softly.

Her throat swelled, and she swallowed hard and nodded. “Ma serannas.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Then Felassan spoke again. “Was it recent?”

“Not… really,” she said with difficulty. “Well, some of it was.”

He gave her a quizzical look, and she ran her fingers through her hair. “I was seventeen when Marin first started getting ill. He was twenty-one. The worst part was that he was our clan’s First, so when he started getting… erratic, everyone knew something was wrong.”

“What was wrong?” Felassan asked.

“He had… bizarre thoughts,” she said. “Delusions. It came and went, but when it was really bad, he spoke to people who weren’t there. Some of our clan thought he was possessed by a demon, but he wasn’t. He was just sick.”

“You seem very confident that he wasn’t possessed,” Felassan said.

“I am confident,” she said firmly. “He wasn’t possessed, and he wasn’t crazy. He was sick. I said this to our healers, but it was… it was hard to convince them. And there was only so much they could do — potions to keep him calm when he was really… upset.” She folded her legs and tapped her metal fingers on the table. “I was the one who could keep him calm. I was the one who was able to bring him back to reality when he was starting to get lost in his own thoughts. But he wasn’t fucking possessed.”

Felassan didn’t reply. When Tamaris met his eye, it was to find him studying her in a very piercing way. She scowled at him, but before she could speak, his face suddenly cleared, as though he’d found the solution to a riddle.

“You have some magical talent, don’t you?” he asked.

Her heart skipped a beat. How had he figured that out? It wasn’t something she advertised. Not even all of her closest companions in the Inquisition knew. “Hardly any,” she hedged.

“But you do have some,” he insisted.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Just a little bit.”

He smiled. “You can communicate with spirits.”

Tamaris stared at him, and he chuckled and shook his head. “That’s it, isn’t it? You knew your brother was not possessed because you could see that he wasn’t.”

She swallowed hard. “How did you…?”

“It’s logical,” he said. “It makes sense.” He laughed again and patted his knees in amusement. “It makes a great deal of sense, in fact.”

She studied him suspiciously; he was clearly laughing at some kind of private joke. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’ve always had a bit of a knack for talking to spirits. But most of my clan didn’t… they don’t know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Because I would have been sent to a different clan if they found out,” she said. “We already had three mages, and my parents didn’t want to send me away.”

Felassan nodded slowly. “Ah, yes. Those wonderful Dalish customs.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Those customs are better than fucking Chantry Circles, at least. And I can tell you that with certainty because that’s where Marin ended up. The clan that took care of you wasn’t the only one that ran afoul of fucking Templars.”

His playful expression faded instantly to seriousness. “Tell me.”

Tamaris scowled at the mostly-empty plate of fruit. “We were trading with some humans near Markham. Marin was having a bad time of it. He… a human got injured, and they called the Templars. The Templars came before we could leave, and they said either we had to hand Marin over, or they would kill my entire clan.”

Felassan’s expression softened with sympathy. “Oh, Tamaris.”

She clenched her jaw and idly flicked the fruit plate. “Marin went with the Templars. They took him to the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold. We never—” She broke off abruptly; her eyes were burning.

She lifted her gaze to the hideous chandelier overhead. A moment later, Felassan was silently settling into the chair opposite her.

She refused to look at him. She breathed in slowly through her nose before speaking again. “We didn’t hear what happened to him after that. The Chantry doesn’t really give a fuck about passing news on to Dalish clans about their stolen family members. When I became the Inquisitor, I… I asked our commander what happened to Marin, since he used to be stationed at Kinloch Hold.”

“Your brother was made Tranquil,” Felassan said.

His voice was very soft. Tamaris pressed her lips together hard before speaking. “Yes,” she gritted. “And then he was killed. Caught in the crossfire during some kind of blood magic conspiracy that the Hero of Ferelden broke up.”

“I remember,” Felassan said quietly.

Tamaris swallowed the lump in her throat, then shrugged and put a grape in her mouth even though she wasn’t at all hungry. “So that’s it,” she said, and she bit down viciously on the fruit. “That’s why I’m good at calming people down. To some degree, at least. Practice makes perfect.”

Felassan tapped her knee. “Avise alas’nirelan.”

She paused with another grape halfway to her mouth. “Fire… what?”

“Avise alas’nirelan,” he repeated. “It means ‘she who dances with fire.’”

She huffed. “Or maybe I have a death wish, like you said.”

“No, you don’t,” he said.

She bristled at how confident he sounded. “You don’t know me.”

“Well, given that we’ll be here together for some time, I will soon enough,” he replied.

His tone was irreverent once more, but his face was serious and calm. All of a sudden, she wanted to be alone.

She stood up. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit,” she said, and she headed for the stairs.

“I’ll be here,” he called after her. “Washing the dishes and other charming domestic things.”

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and winced. “Fuck. I forgot to…” She gestured awkwardly at the table. “Thank you for breakfast. This was really good. That omelette was perfect.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a gracious nod. “Go on. Rest your pretty head.”

She lifted an eyebrow. This was the second time he’d called her pretty, and she couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or if he was joking around.

She eyed him suspiciously, but he was already collecting the dishes. She shrugged it off and headed to her bedroom, then closed the door and sat on the bed.

For a while, she just sat at the edge of the bed staring vacantly at nothing in particular. It had been years now since she’d spoken of Marin to anyone. Most of her closest companions in the Inquisition knew the basics of what had happened, but only four people knew the story in detail: Cole, Varric, Cassandra, and Solas.

Cole knew because Cole knew everything. Varric knew because of his uncanny knack for getting even the most taciturn grumps to talk, including Tamaris herself. Cassandra knew because of the heart-to-heart she and Tamaris had had one night on the Storm Coast, and Tamaris still remembered that night as the moment that she and Cassandra had finally shifted from mutual suspicion to cautious friends. And Solas knew because… because Tamaris had trusted him.

She’d trusted him. Like a fucking idiot, she’d trusted him, and he’d reciprocated that trust with empty words of love and lies of omission.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away impatiently, but now that she was alone, it was like her eyes had decided to betray her; she was crying in earnest now, and she couldn’t tell what exactly was making her cry, because there were so many miserable thoughts in her head. There was Marin, with his boyish grin and his haunted green eyes and his screams for Tamaris and their parents to let him stay. There was Solas, with his shiny armour and his tragic face telling her too many belated truths and failing to convince her that he loved her. There was the qunari invasion in the north and the missing Grey Wardens and Varric’s worried little smile as he’d watched drinking yesterday.

And there was Felassan. Felassan, who had known Solas back when they both were young. Felassan, who had sacrificed himself to give Briala a chance to make things better for their people.

Felassan, who didn’t know yet that Solas had taken the eluvians back from Briala.

She closed her eyes, and another rivulet of tears ran down her face. Fuck, she thought. She’d honestly meant to tell him yesterday, but then she’d needed to calm him down, and she’d completely forgotten.

She sighed and flopped onto her back, and something hard pressed into her spine: Felassan’s slightly singed ironwood rod, which she’d tucked into the back of her trousers for safekeeping. She pulled the rod out and placed it gently on her bedside table, and her eyes fell on the bottle of rum that sat there.

There was enough left inside of it for maybe one more night of oblivion, and then she’d be out, having purposely not bought more in the market yesterday.

She sniffled and stared morosely at the bottle for some time while the tears continued to leak out of her eyes. She could always ask Varric to bring her some more, but she could imagine his worried face only too clearly if she asked for more rum, and the thought only made her feel worse.

She sat up and grabbed the bottle of rum. She pulled out the cork and emptied the bottle with four big gulps, then replaced the bottle on the table and settled onto her side once more.

She closed her eyes and waited for the booze to make its way through her blood. She’d been meaning to stop drinking for some time now, ever since Bull had stopped offering her maraas-lok when they were sitting around the fire at night. This was as good a time as any. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do but keep an eye on Felassan.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and her miserable thoughts gradually dulled to a tolerable feeling of melancholy. Just as she was falling asleep, a hazy image of a face drifted across her mind.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Solas. Even more surprisingly given the topic of the morning, it wasn’t Marin either.

It was Felassan. Tamaris’s sluggish mind conjured a stray thought of Felassan’s wry and sympathetic smile, and then she faded into the blissful blackness of sleep.

#felassan #felassan romance #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #the love that grows from violence #save felassan #GONNA USE THIS TAG NOW #NOW THAT I SAW OTHERS USING IT LOL #pikapeppa writes

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