#c!purpled wanted revenge before c!dream reached out! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

technowoah · 3 years

Note

hey hey hey! i really really really love ur works and wanna reuwest a purpled x reader one. also since purpled said hes only comfy with his character what about the reader losing their last cannon life to dream and purpled gets really really sad until like- a month later, she comes back from hell. kinda like c!jacks revival. If your not comfy with this pls ignore <3

My Mission

Purpled is still trying to figure out how to deal with your death, but before he can you come back.

- Platonic Purpled x Revived!Reader

- Anon Requested!

- blurb

- italics = flashback (except the last few lines)

- the "hes" out of italics are referring to Purpled.

⚠︎: slight swearing, angst to fluff-ish, gore, no dsmp spoilers.

An// I know this is late but I'm having major writers block lol ✌🏾😛 I hope you like it love!

The night was cold as he sat on a hill away from the kingdom Dream had made himself. The tall grass flowed around him like a blanket on his bed he wish he could be in right now, but he chose this, he chose to be here. His blonde hair whipped around his face harshly, but he didnt bother move it out of his eyes he could still see the destination ahead of him.

The kingdom looking like a bright star the fell to the ground. He used to love sitting and watching the lights of the kingdom at night flicker like a fallen star that still had its glow. The small smile he had on his face fell when his mind reminded him of the tragedy a month ago.

The night was cold and dark and that couldn't resemble how he was feeling right now. Anger, resentment, betrayed flowed through his heart. He wanted revenge.

The swords were already shined and ready for blood, arrows sharpened to the point, and potions made to kill the second it envelopes you. Months of preparation was right there next to him, ready to be finally used.

He wanted revenge for his best friend.

He left the kingdom for an hour grabbing every weapon he had before finding a place he used to go with his best friend.

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

"The kingdom looks beautiful!" You said while standing up in the tall grass.

Purpled had taken you to a far away spot out of the dsmp kingdom just for fun.

"I know, I come here often when I want to clear my head." Purpled said while sitting down in the hill letting the grass tickle his skin.

It was the middle of the say and almost sun down. You two had hiked up away from the kingdom and up a semi huge hill that gave a great view of the lights.

"How did you find this place?" You smiled to the boy sitting down to the side of you.

"Just was hiking I guess!" He laughed. "Well I was looking for more caves outside of the kingdom and stood on this hill, and looked back and saw the beautiful view."

"Now this is your spot now?" You smiled and nodded.

"I mean it's our spot now. You're the only other person who knows about it." Purpled motioned for his friend to sit down and you did.

"Great." You smiled at him and he shared that smile.

"Great."

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

He finally stood up from his spot on the hill and made his way back to the kingdom, weapons at his mercy and ready to be used.

The walk back to the kingdom was long, but he wasnt in a rush. He just wanted to keep his mind calm before he finally faced the man who he wanted to kill. The man whos blood should be on his arrows and swords he just sharpened for this occasion.

He walks with purpose and in stride. He always does, he was always busy around the kingdom. Making something new or not even saying what he was doing, no one would want to cross his path because no one would want to know what trouble he was gettng himself into. But they always knew he would come put alive in the end.

He walked along the prime path keeping his gaze forward. He sped up his walk trying to get to the place he needs to go faster to get this feeling out of his body. Sadly him staring straight ahead made him bump shoulders with someone passing by. He didn't have the time to look back and stop, but a familiar voice made him stop.

"Hey! Watch where the fuck you are going!"

Damn it.

He tried to walk away, but he heard the footsteps get closer and the protests get louder.

"Hey asshole! You know Im talking to you Purpled?! Stop!"

"What do you want Quackity?!"

"Damn it took that long for you to turn around?!" The scarred man laughed as the blonde started at him blankly.

Quackity had a small smirk on his face before he looked around to make sure no one else is spying on them. Quackity chuckled while crossing his arms looking at the impatient blonde infront of him.

"What. Do. You. Want. Shouldn't you be in Las Nevadas?" He scoffed.

"I should! I should. But I heard about your little predicament." Quackity still had that taunting smile on his face.

"I wouldn't call it a predicament I would call it a missi-"

"A mission. Yeah I know, that's what you call every thing now-a-days." Quackity shook his head in disbelief. "Even when your best friend dies..Its a damn misson."

Purpled stayed quiet and let the older man talk. He didn't need to hear this, but at least this will hunor him before his miss- plans.

"Its a shame! It really is. But you know what Purpled?" Quackity's voice got quieter.

"If this is about Las Nevadas, you should leave. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"I bet you do." Quackity looked away from the blonde. "Its a shame that you dont even know where Dream is to kill him."

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

"Y/N! Get out of my way!"

"I will not let you hurt him!"

"Get out of his way!"

Purpled was injured, pretty badly at that. He was clutching his side in pain where a arrow had struck him. His face had long cuts across it, and so did his body. The only way you could see the cuts along his body is because the cuts Dream had made tore through his clothes.

Purpled looked like he couldn't stand back up. You didn't want to know why they were fighting so brutally, you only showed up when Dream stood above Purpled about to take the final blow, sword clutched tightly in-between his hands.

The only thing you saw was that and you ran in the middle of the two blocking Dream from doing anymore damage to Purpled. Now the two men are yelling at you to get out of Dream's way.

"You're really stubborn aren't you?" Dream dropped his sword to his side, but still kept that tight grip on the handle.

"For my friends, yeah I am." You said with your head held high looking at the masked man.

"Y/N." Purpled groaned behind you. "Go, please."

You turned your whole body around to face him. He couldn't get up, still kneeling on the ground he tried to move and stand to his full height. It was impossible for him to do so. You saw a keep gash where his knee is. Dream must've stabbed his knee, through his knee.

"You stay down! I can handle this!"

"Where is your armor?! Huh?! Where is all your gear?! You're vulnerable!"

"You are too!"

"As much as this pains me to see the two bestest friends fight, Move." Dream said sternly while placing a rough hand on your shoulder.

"Dream get your hand off of them!" Purpled yelled.

"At this point you cannot tell me what to do." Dream chuckled. "This state that you're in! Its pathetic!"

Purpled hung his head low while Dream kept on running his mouth.

"Y/N! Do you even want to know why we're even fighting?! Its all his-"

"I dont want to know. Frankly I dont care just stop hurting him." Your words came out calmer than you wanted because you really were vulnerable at this point.

"I haven't even finished the job, my misson." Dream scoffed.

"If you wanto to finish "your mission" go through me first." You said while finding Purpled's sword on the ground next to him and gripping it tightly just like Dream.

"Y/N stop this!"

"Fine then."

Dream had grabbed your shoulder again so hard it could leave a bruise and brought your shoulders forward. You didn't have any time to react and the next thing you saw when you looked down was his sword going through your stomach. It hurt to breathe, and you felt yourself coughing up blood onto the grass beneath you. He had finally let go of your shoulder and you fell to your side letting your body go numb.

"NO DREAM!" Purpled tried to reach you, but ended up getting kicked down by Dream.

"Im done with you now. Its no point. I thought killing you would be better, but watching you suffer after your best friend gets killed is good enough for me."

"My mission is done, and they were right. You are vulnerable."

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

"Where is he then?" He asked trying not to sound rushed.

"You would like to know huh? Well Let me tell you about this thing I have first. I mean if you want to know where Dream is for your little mission" Quackity proposed and he stayed quiet waiting for the older man's response.

"I have this book, it was given to me by an old ally of mine. It has all of the lives of everyone in it. The whole book is filled with names and if they are dead or not-"

"Where are you going with this?" He interrupted.

"Im saying that not everyone knows of Y/N's death. Its not any big headlines. So I read this book often and I so happened to see their name and underneath it, it said they were dead."

"And?"

"I have a proposal-"

"No." He started to walk away leaving Quackity to stand and yell at the younger one.

"Oh come on! Dont you want your friend back?!" Quackity yelled as the other walked away briskly.

"Fine! You'll owe me!"

----------

It was over. He ended up back on the same hill again, but this time it was pitch black and the only light available was the light in the stars and the light from the kingdom. He could hear faint noises of mobs in the distance, but they didn't dare come near him.

His eyes started to water and his vision began to get blurry. He didn't kill Dream, he couldn't. That's not what you would've wanted.

Dream was right all along. He was vulnerable, he was always vulnerable.

He closed his eyes letting tears drop onto his cheeks. He was upset that he couldn't fulfill his mission, the one thing he knew he could do for the one he misses the most in life. He failed. And now Dream is sitting somewhere, he didn't even take Quackity's proposal. He didn't even know what Dream was to kil him.

Still, even if he wasnt discouraged, he would've still tried to hunt Dream down. He didn't care if it took him months to a year, he didn't care if it killed him. One day.

He looked out to the kingdom once more with eyes full of tears. The kingdom now looking like a ball of light and not as detailed.

"Purpled?"

He sighed brushing the call off, he was hearing things.

"Hey, Purpled."

He shook his head with his hands cupping his face. He was convincing himself that his head was playing tricks on him because there is no one that could be out here at this time.

"I thought I would get a warmer welcome than this."

He felt the grass moving beside him and he quickly turned his head to his right where he saw the person he wanted to the most. You.

It was you, but you had a white streak in your hair, your stomach still had a bigger scar still on it. It was you, it was finally you. He hesitated before reaching out to hug you, there was some tall grass in between you two but it didn't matter, he had you back. You had to feel tears fall on your back because he was crying, he tried to keep his sobs quiet but they slipped out.

"Are you okay?" He asked while sniffing.

"Im alive now. Thats progress." You responded hesitantly before continuing. "I wanted to stay dead. I mean it had to be my time right? I was in hell and I don't know why. Why was I there?!"

You started sobbing on his shirt as well and you took a big breath before starting to talk again.

"And then I just showed up not that far from here. It was horrible, like an out of body experience. I dont know who brought me back either! But now I found you here and Im okay enough." You smiled with tiredness in your eyes as you pulled away from the long hug.

"I tried to kill Dream." He confessed.

"Because of me?"

He hummed in agreement "I couldn't, thats not what you would've wanted."

"Why would you know what I wanted?" You asked the blonde. "I was dead for a month."

"You wanted me to kill him?" He asked with a bit of excitement in his voice.

"Consider this a new mission." You smiled while standing up and him following suit.

"My mission." He whispered while looking at the ground. "It'll take a while, but we'll get him. I promise."

You two locked pinkie fingers together to seal the promise. A promise that would be sealed to the end of time. No matter how long or who dies, he never fails a mission.

"Oh! Also, I have a note for you." You handed him a small torn note that you found lying next to you when you reappeared.

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

Dear Purpled,

You're welcome. They're here now.

Remember that favor I never got to ask you?

I suppose you should listen to me now.

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

#-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #tw torture #tw abuse #tw injuries #tw suicide #tw murder #tw explosion #tw death #tw violence #tw emotional distress #prison arc #pandora's vault

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whitefawnn · 3 years

Text

blood letting (part 6)

c!wilbur soot x reader

warnings: manipulation, blood, physical fighting, panic attack, dissociation

masterlist of blood letting

note: read the warnings

“fuck.” he muttered. Y/n always right there for him, and what the fuck was he, a parasite stuck to their neck? He suddenly jumped to his feet, realizing what the conversation had meant. Words not worth feeling pity over for y/n was going to talk to Dream.

———-

I stormed through the halls, listening for sounds of rustling, of life. The sound of my blood rushing seemed to be far too present in my ears. I made my way to where I had last seen Dream last night, and I heard the sound of unfolding paper from a nearby room. A blood red carpet leading me to the slaughter. I quickly walked to the sound, posture held high, I needed to know my purpose if this was going to go well, if this was going to go at all.

“What a nice surprise.” Dream purred out looking up from the map he was studying on the large meeting table. His posture is always that of a predator’s, always waiting for you to slip up. The paper extended over almost the entire table, my eyes torn to look at the large crater that was almost dead in the center. “that’s l’manberg, you know. Just a crater, a fucking sad hole is all your revolution added up to.” I squinted my eyes at him, furrowing my brow. The words a new scar torn open to bleed the sickly blood of regret. He lowly chuckled in response, leaning over to create more red marks over the map, a mess of arrows and lines that meant nothing to me but somehow still seemed at least a bit unsettling.

“Always the charmer, Dream.” I said walking further into the room. I took a deep breath, settling my nerves that seemed to endlessly build in my chest. “Anyway, I need to talk to you,” he quickly snapped his head up to bare into me “Wilbur, he- he won’t speak up, but-“ he tilted his head. I felt myself pause, consider.

“but you will?” he said with a honeyed voice. The taste was too sweet on my tongue. Dream trailed around the table closer to me “you? will?” he questioned with arrogance in his voice, pointing a finger at my chest. The mask left his expression unreadable, his imposing posture making the hairs on my arms raise. was being belittled, pushed aside.

“y-yes.” I stuttered, he leaned forward as I clumsily stumbled back, losing ground in an already fruitless fight. “yes, I will, Dream.” I took a breath, shaking the anxieties from my head “You can’t hurt those people, I don’t care about your stupid fucking revenge. You’re out of the prison, Dream, get the fuck away from them and just fucking leave.” He stood taller now, his mask slightly chipped and looming over me. He seemed like a man who could blow out the sun's light. “Go fucking terrorize other people, leave them alone. Please,” I wanted to plead, to beg “you already got what you want.” Then suddenly he burst out into laughter, loud and disruptive.

“What a joke, you and your bold ideas, darling.” he once again leaned closer to me. His hand covered with a fingerless glove, he caressed my cheek. The touch a burning heat. “So pretty to be so fucking stupid” he spat with clear disdain. “and to think when I let Wilbur bring you, I thought you’d just be dead weight, a pain, but god you’re fucking worse.” He circled around me now, like an animal finally finding their prey. “I’m going to fucking slaughter them, y/n. If you are lucky, you won’t get caught up in it.”

—————-

Wilbur bounded up the red carpeted stairs, his heart beating in his throat. He muttered to himself, a silent prayer that y/n would be okay, a prayer that they would forgive him for his hesitance, a prayer that this waking nightmare would end. He didn’t want to be a coward, he didn’t want to be anything less than what y/n needed. He searched every room with wild eyes and shaky hands. A crazed man looking for the fix.

“Why the fuck is this fucking building so big?” he said running through each room. He pushed back his hair with an exasperated sigh. The white streak splitting the muddy brown like a strike of lighting “where are you?”

A loud thud resonated from the ground above him, opening a pit in his stomach.

——————-

“you won’t- you can’t-“ he shook his head, dismissing me. I scoured for what to do, shifting the weight on my feet. Ideas falling through like water through cupped hands. “If you don’t get the fuck away from the dream SMP,, Wilbur and I, we- we-“

“You’ll what, princess? Get your precious lover boy locked up. You don’t want that AND dead friends do you?” he sing songed, everything a taunt to make this game all the more fun for him. I was a mouse merely caught in his trap.

“Dream,” I mumbled, my voice wavering, I knew I wouldn’t be able to trust my voice but still I tried. Tried to speak, to say something. I came up here with the idea to lose a life, but maybe I hadn’t weighed that heavily enough. Weighed what it meant to its full capacity, a knife through the heart.

“y/n,” he purred back once again. Dream then slowly lifted his hastily made mask revealing his marred face and pushing back his matted hair in the process. I stared at him with wide eyes as he smirked down at me. His face one crafted of cracked marble. “You’ve always been so enticing, y/n, but always so fucking idiotic.” he sneered at me leaning even closer. His hot breath fanning across my face. “Part of the insistent thorn in my side, with your silly revolution, your stupid dotting over Wilbur.” My breaths began to be ragged “You got these puppy dog eyes, princess, these big puppy eyes.” He reached up to rub his thumb under my eye, I violently flinched back with a yelp. He quickly pulled me back towards him.

“Dream, please, I just-“ I couldn’t force the words out. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just wanted my friends to be safe from the insidious man.

“Please what, puppy” he tilted my head up with a finger under my chin.

“I just want them to be okay-“ he swiftly slapped the cheek he had formerly been caressing, I cried out, bringing my hand to my face. I whimpered as he pushed me to the ground. My arm landing hard against the dark floorboards. Pain bloomed like clarity.

“useless,” he tched walking back over to the map to continue his work. I crawled over to press myself against the wall. The cool wood taking my back. My head began to spin again, a comfortable feeling really. The world becoming a wash of color, not misplaced feelings. I wanted to let go, give into the waves of pain that resonated from my arm. I lowly whined. A plea left unanswered as the wolf spoke with a low timber. “you stay right there, princess.” I let myself fall away.

—————-

“-princess” the nickname made Wilbur feel sick, the tone pushing the feeling further. He heard lightning crack, an angry blow. He walked into the wide open room to see Dream hunched over a table, fervently writing on a large map. The world laid out before him staring expectantly.

“Dream, where is y/n?” Wilbur pressed, Dream simply chuckled to himself, the mask once again placed over his face.

“right there,” he pointed to them, not lifting his head from the map “not that you should care.” he drew quiet, Wilbur looked down at y/n’s collapsed form, one of their cheeks a bright angry red. His feet were glued to the ground, “They don’t respect you, Wilbur, maybe you should treat them just the same, you know treat others how you wish to be treated.” Wilbur craned his head to look at Dream, his mask now unturned to look back. “they made their choice, coming up here to fucking complain.” Dream’s voice was laced with venom, each word a painful bite.

“and what do you suggest I do then,” Wilbur inquired, eyes still glued to them. A body that seemed to be everything in the moment. He watched as they shallowly breathed, a light bruise beginning to form under their right eye. Purple that stained like wine.

“get them out of here, then come back and we can do what we need to,” he chuckled, “without,” he paused, “distraction.” Wilbur leaned down, gently scooping y/n up in his arms. They lowly groaned, their face contorting to one of pain. He winced right back. “You do still need blood though hmm,” Wilbur turned to see Dream looking up at him. The mention of the substance making him feel woozy. “Maybe take some, I’m sure they’ll understand.” he seemed to coo the words, each one more unsettling. The implication making y/n’s weight heavier in his arms.

Wilbur gave a curt nod, focusing on not revealing his thoughts on the matter. He kept his body relaxed, his face expressionless. He let himself hide the growing storm, y/n deserves an umbrella from the pouring rain. He proceeded to leave the room without a word. Finding his way to the horses still tied up in the front, he took off.

“thank god you didn’t die.” he whispered to y/n “I’m gonna fix this, I promise.” he didn’t receive a reply. Only silence that barred into him solidifying guilt.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #wilbur x reader #mcyt x y/n #wilbur soot x reader

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pandoraborn · 3 years

Text

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 9

( previous. )

Characters: c!Ranboo, c!Dream, c!Wilbur, c!Tommy Word count: 2081 Content: jokes about brain damage, hypnosis, ranboo remembers everything

----

“Do you understand more?” Dream’s voice sounds almost too far away. Ranboo is still trying to grasp onto reality, still mentally lost in the end. Part of him doesn’t want to shake off the peaceful haze, but another part of him is struggling to surface, if not for himself then for Tommy.

Tommy’s hand is in his own, caressing the back of his hand tenderly. Ranboo can feel the comfort from the other teen, but the comfort only seems to keep him in this suspension. Still, he lifts his head and acknowledges Dream with a dreamy hum.

“He’s still lost,” Wilbur exclaims. “We shouldn’t have brought him there without preparing him.”

“Is he going to be okay though?” Not even Tommy’s brash voice can snap him out of it. There’s a distant thought that maybe this isn’t entirely his fault. Is it really such a bad thing though? Ranboo feels utterly at peace.

“He’ll be fine.” Dream presses his hands to Ranboo’s shoulders. “We could use this, actually. It’d be useful if we wanted to access his memories.”

“How do you suggest we use this? He’s barely responsive.” Wilbur sounds curious; Ranboo turns to gaze at the man. In this state of mind, Ranboo feels as though he can actually trust everyone around him. Though, shouldn’t that be a cause for concern? It’s not like the men are exactly plotting anything good.

Tommy seems to understand what’s being discussed, because he’s yanking his hand away from Ranboo and lurching to his feet. “Oy, no. He’ll snap out of it soon enough, neither of us need your help. You’re going to give him brain dama-”

“What are you talking about?” Wilbur sounds amused. “Do you really think he’ll get brain damage from being in trance?” Ranboo dimly notes a smirk on Wilbur’s face. “Tommy, I don’t know where you get your information, but you’re clearly looking at the wrong sources.”

“I know enough,” Tommy grumbles, seating himself back by Ranboo’s side. “He’ll get stuck like this, he’ll get brain damage and turn into some sort of puppet, then end up in a coma. You can’t use him.”

Wilbur snorts, but surprisingly, so does Dream. It’s almost enough for Ranboo to fully come back to reality as he glances back and forth. When he glances at Dream though, he notes the way Dream is presented. Dream’s hair is hanging loose around his face, no mask in sight. He’s not wearing his usual green for once, and instead a simple blue t-shirt hangs loose around his frame, paired with tan cargo pants. Dream looks like an ordinary man that’d be hard to pick out of a crowd normally, but right now, Ranboo feels completely and utterly drawn to him.

“If you’re going to do something, do it right now,” Dream urges Wilbur. “Before he completely snaps out of it.”

“Shut up dickhead,” Tommy mutters, snapping his fingers in Dream’s direction. “What if you two hurt him or some shit? You shouldn’t mess around with things you don’t understand!”

Wilbur drops his voice to speak quieter than normal. “What makes you think we don’t understand, Tommy? Remember all those nights I read to you until you fell asleep, all the times I was able to talk you out of a rash decision? Even when I was able to convince you the day we stood by the ocean, gathering sand. People find it so easy to listen to me, even more so when they’re already suggestible.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy warns.

Cocky grin in place, Wilbur moves around to stand behind Ranboo. Hands press down on the hybrid’s shoulders, heavy enough to keep him seated, light enough that he could wriggle out of the grip if he chose to. Ranboo leans back into Wilbur, head resting back against Wilbur’s chest.

“That’s it Ranboo,” Wilbur murmurs. “You enjoy feeling so relaxed, don’t you? Already so lost in the memory of your homeland, you’ll find it so easy to open the rest of your mind and let us in.”

“Us?” Ranboo finally finds his voice, and it’s shaky. He remembers what Tommy said five minutes ago. “I’ll be okay?”

“You’ll be more than okay.” It’s Dream now, and Ranboo is unconsciously leaning toward him. Dream means safety, he always has. But why?

Wilbur laughs. “I think he wants you, Dream.” He nudges at Ranboo before stepping back. “Should I keep going, though?”

Ranboo feels another arm wrap around him, holding him close. With a light sigh, Ranboo leans into the new body, recognizing the figure as Dream. He nods mutely toward Wilbur, encouraging him to keep going. He might not know what it is Wilbur is doing, but his voice is nice to listen to.

“Ranboo I want you to listen to me carefully.” Wilbur’s voice drops again, weaving gently through the room, before settling in his mind. “Just listen to me and let yourself go, back to the end. It holds all the answers you could possibly need. More specifically, the ones you’ve locked away from yourself.”

“Wilbur are you sure this will help?” Tommy whispers. The response Wilbur gives him is finger pressed to his forehead. Tommy goes cross-eyes trying to focus on the finger, but Wilbur jerks his hand downward, with Tommy’s eyes falling shut and his body falling forward. The man gathers Tommy in his arms and holds him before continuing to speak to Ranboo.

“You can see them just beyond your reach, Ranboo,” Wilbur whispers. “They’re not locked tight in a box, they’re open and available for you, you just have to be willing to reach for them.

In his mind, Ranboo’s in the end again. The purple haze surrounds him, leaving him feeling as though he’s completely alone. Wilbur’s voice is barely even heard, but Ranboo’s listening anyway. He can see what he only assumes are his memories (in the form of obsidian chunks), strewn about by the dragon’s small tower. His gaze locks onto those chunks as he moves closer, reaching an arm out. Though, Ranboo stops short of touching one. What if he finds something that scares him? He’s contributed to hurting Tommy as well as other people.

He doesn’t want to hate himself.

“It’s okay Ranboo,” Wilbur continues. “You’re safe with us. Your memories will not destroy you. Just breathe.”

He sucks in a breath, trying to steady his emotions. Everything seems to stretch out endlessly between himself and the obsidian chunks. It almost seems hopeless, but he finally closes his fist around the first one.

Everything rushes back.

He sees himself in Dream’s vault. This is his memory, he’s not watching it from an omniscient point of view, he recalls it perfectly now. Ranboo is with the rest of the SMP as they rush in to rescue Tommy and Tubbo, though he stands back to watch Tommy enact his revenge. Ranboo recalls staring at Dream, too, as the latter is led away to prison.

When he comes to, he’s still not back in the cabin, but back in the end. Obsidian chunks are still surrounding him, no longer stretched out, but pressed too close against him. The sensation is almost suffocating, and the only way out is to grab and push at them.

He remembers everything now.

Not all at once, it’s not a painful barrage against his brain, but more of a trickle, each memory dripping back in one by one. Everything he’d done, everything he’d help plan, everything he wanted to do. All the memories leave him feeling spent, even with Wilbur’s gentle cadence echoing in the back of his mind.

The last memory Ranboo picks up is the day Dream escaped from prison.

He pulls a sword on Tubbo, not to hurt him, but to warn him to stay back. He never wanted Tubbo to get hurt in the crossfire, he never wanted Michael to see this. Tubbo had always been better off away from any of this, where he can remain safe and raise Michael in peace.

Ranboo had pulled the sword and left him alone. He recalls the grief he’d pushed down in favor of guarding Tommy.

It was always about Tommy.

Ranboo had sworn to protect him from day one, hoping to guide him in the right direction, to steer him back toward Wilbur. Kind of a hard task to accomplish when he’s splitting his mind in half.

Everything makes sense now. Nothing’s changed, his mindset about Dream being evil has never changed. That much has always been true, the only difference now is Ranboo no longer feels remorse over being here.

He’d seen how everyone had twisted their morals and viewpoints into something barely recognizable. He’d seen how quickly everyone cast aside someone else for opposing beliefs, himself included. Everyone on the SMP is some level of selfish, and Ranboo had immediately gone to Dream, who had presented an idea.

He’d learned that Wilbur had the same mindset before he died. Ranboo had learned that in the deep pits of Pogtopia, where not even Tommy could reach, Wilbur had vented about his need to destroy more than just L’Manburg, that the two men had discussed starting over and creating a society where everyone would be on the same page. No more betrayal, no more destruction, no more pain.

Ranboo had loved the idea.

He still loves the idea.

When he sits up straight, he’s in the cabin again. It’s the same cabin, with the same beds and counters and furnaces. Wilbur is there holding a dazed Tommy, who’s glaring around the room. Dream is watching him with an expectant grin on his face.

The person Ranboo wants to speak to most isn’t there.

“Are you with us again?” Dream asks. “You look way more alert than you did before we started.”

Nodding, Ranboo stares down at his legs, wiping imaginary dirt off his trousers. “Thanks, I think. I don’t know what that was but-”

“Classic hypnosis,” Wilbur says smugly. “Tommy here thought it’d give you brain damage. Tommy, do you have brain damage?”

“I’ll smack you over the head with an obsidian brick,” Tommy grumbles. “That’ll give you brain damage.”

“I remember now,” Ranboo continues as though the brothers hadn’t just bickered. “I think I remember everything. Or at least, I know enough.”

“Do you still think I’m the bad guy?” Dream presses.

Ranboo snorts, but nods. “We’re all the bad guys, but I don’t mind as much. At least now I know what I’m doing.”

“Traitor.” There’s no bite in Tommy’s voice. “You lot are all traitors. Let me off this crazy ride.”

Reaching over, Ranboo gives Tommy’s hair a teasing ruffle. “You know you love us.”

“Two of you.” The younger teen shoots a pointed glare in Dream’s direction. “I only care about two of you.”

Dream shrugs. “That’s fair. I’m coming to terms with the fact that you hate me. I’ll live.”

“We’ve had a busy day,” Wilbur interrupts, pushing Tommy off his lap. The teen falls to the floor with a pained groan. “We should all sleep. We still have a lot of prep to do and things won’t be ready for awhile, but we’re making progress.”

“Wilbur you’re such a dick.” Tommy stretches out. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

With a chuckle, Ranboo pulls Tommy up and drags him over to their makeshift double bed. “Just share with me again, alright?” He’s suprised when Tommy latches onto him, causing Ranboo to topple backwards into the bed. He makes a grab for Tommy in hopes of moving him, but it’s clear Tommy’s not moving.

“Don’t turn against me now that you have your memories back,” Tommy whispers. “I’m tired of losing people.”

Softening, Ranboo moves to grab at Tommy’s hand instead of his wrist. “No, never,” he promises. “It was always about you and your safety. I won’t let you down again, alright?”

“I’m tired of not trusting people either,” Tommy mumbles. He already sounds half asleep. “Just promise me that you and Wilbur won’t turn into Dream.”

“I promise.” Ranboo gives Tommy’s hand a squeeze. “We’re both here to protect you with everything we have. You can trust us unconditionally.”

“Thanks.” Mostly asleep, the teen’s voice is slurred. Ranboo settles for playing with Tommy’s hair to lull him down the rest of the way. He’d forgotten that in all this mess, Tommy probably doesn’t get very much comfort anymore.

That’s okay, Ranboo’s happy to provide. Just because they’re the bad guys doesn’t mean they have to be evil.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #canon divergence #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #ranboo #wilbur soot #dark!fic #whump #hypnosis #jokes about brain damage #ranboo remembers everything #long post #not based on the real people #based on the characters #cruelty of the beast #cruelty of the beast ch.9 #miishae writes

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maybe-its-micheal · 2 years

Note

AADNADWNADWAKJWN OPINON ON LORERKEOEEERE? UAAKCITY LOER??/

BXKSKBDOABS. SBJSIISJQBEVRJW9QOKSBA LO APS09XYXYEVWJ9QDY3H3 I 9DHW92VW9SUDGWH38W9SHWH9D9WB2OD0SIBWID9DJWBW8D8IX7CYGW QKSODHWBDOIDHWISJ

Ok, now that thats out of the way, I should be able to be semi-coherent :) have 4 thoughts cause my brain is to jumbled to say anything else lmao

All is /rp unless stated otherwise <3

1. "Is it worth it?" Is going to be added to the list of phrases that trigger my fight or slight response, right next to "It was never meant to be"

I think thats such an important moment. Like I really hope it affects Quackity's character. Maybe he's going to realize that a part of his legacy will be Las Nevadas, but the rest? He'll be remembered as a person who was cruel and hateful, used and manipulated others, and was always desperately reaching for more power.

I feel like a lot if the moments with Charlie during the lessons were there to show Quackity that the way he thinks is contradictory, counter productive, and motivated by fear. I thinknits gonna show him that this isn't the person he wants to be, and this shouldn't be how he lives his life.

The whole thing with Karl? That's his oppritunity. He can lash out again, get revenge, be angry and choose to hurt Sapnap and Karl, or he can choose forgiveness. I think he's going to choose forgiveness. I think this will be another turning point for his character, and that will be Charlie's legacy

2. The thing with Karl btw???? That was sad. All the angsty reveal we've imagined and I dont think anything compares, he only remembers Quackity, his fiance, a man he had so many good memories with and loved, as someone who made him die. That is painful.

But Sapnap noticed! He was saying that there must be something wrong, when he wasn't saying he was joking he was saying he was sick. Maybe Karl will open up about the time stuff?? Maybe Sap can find a way to help, or at least support him, that would be really nice. Of course it might now happen, and probably won't for a long time because no one on this gosh darn SMP knows how to communicate, but there's a chance!

Tales? Tales of the SMP my beloved? Returnign to me? Probably not, but maybe we can at least get some Karl lore :3

3. Purpled D: Purpled killed slime and I have so many feelings. Like I wanna be angry, I even designed this t shirt

But after thinking it over some I dont think thats really fair. Like Quackity bombed his home, told him he was nothing and would die a nobody, and then told him to come work for him. When he said no, a spy was sent after him. I'd be pissed too. So I see why he fought back, Q lowkey had it coming I hate to say it.

But slime did not. Like, at all. Purpled knew he wasn't some scheming mastermind, he just knew Quackity cared about him, and thats why he did it. Thats definitely wrong. I wonder what happened? Cause there was the whole 3 weeks later thing, where was Purpled then? Id love to know.

Purpled is honestly such an interesting character, I feel like Ibhavent thought enough or spent enough time on his lore to give a proper, well rounded opinion

4. Ok out of /rp for a minute. This stream was beautiful. There was a score? Like someone wrote a theme specifically for Las Nevadas??? And then all the cinematic shots, the way it was so clearly planned out and executed perfectly, it looked to polished. So practiced. I feel like we as a community dont appriciate Quackity's work enough, it truly is cinematic art. It's beautiful. My favorite bits are the live action ones :) my favorite of all time was after the dream thing with the scissors and calendar and poker chips. So sick. And ever lore stream blows the one before it out of the water, so much talent, so much care, its art.

In conclusion: I love c!Karl and feel very sad. Purpled is a cool character and I dont even know how I feel. SLIME!!!!!!! Slime my beloved I am so so so so sad. This is the worst possible thing. Ow. Ouch. The biggest source of pain this stream easily. I wanted blood but not his :( And finally, I hope c!Quackity learns something from all of this and stops torturing people in questionable ethical prisons.

Great stream, beautiful, I am feeling so many emotions, I loved it.

AND WE GET A TECHNONPRIS9N BREAK STREAM TOMORROW?????? They're spoiling us

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zombiekillerky · 3 years

Text

{TMNT 2003 Fanfic} - Dream

( WARNING : This is not Turtle x Turtle related at all, this is purely just some family scenarios with no relationships at all what’s so ever. Just regular day in the life turtle stuff)

Leo watched in horror as Kari's sword was up to his neck as he sat on his knees. Blood fell down his forehead as he watched his brothers fight the Kari bots in front of him and he couldn't even help them. He sent them here in order to defeat Shredder once and for all like they had planned. This time he was going to be defeated for good, even against his brothers wishes of doing this another day. He wanted to do this now to get it over with, it was his revenge, his pay back against him for hurting his family over the years. He should have listened to his brothers when they said not to go, he really should have as soon as their plan started to fail. He could taste the defeat as soon as they walked in.

Mikey went down first, screaming bloody murder as 5 swords went through his shell and out the front. He was trying to ddge as best he could out of the way as he smashed their heads one by one. But even his quick moves and reflexes couldn't save him from the robots attacking. Mikey gazed around at his brothers yelling his name, blood dripped from his mouth as his eyes landed on Leo to the side of him across the room. He smiled one last time at him, coughing out a puddle of blood in front of him before his eyes rolled in to the back of his head as he fell forward. He didn't even move when the Kari bots removed the swords from his body and plunged them in to his chest yet again. To make him stay dead for good,

"Donnie cover my right!" Raph yelled over to his brother as he pulled his sai out from the bots chest. He was being blinded with rage as he fought, he couldn't save his brother so he had to make sure Donnie would make it out okay. Attacking another one to the side of him that cut in to his arm deeply. Donnie did as he was told and covered his hot headed brothers right. Knocking away the swords that tried to kill them both. As Raph finished off the bots next to him he turned around and knocked away one that was heading for his brother. Hearing he blood curdling scream as he turned his head. A sword went through his younger brother's stomach through the back side of his shell. Raph yelled at the top of his lungs and hit the bot away, dropping his brother to the floor with a thud as he groaned in pain.

Leo screamed out to them but it was almost like they couldn't hear them at all. He just watched and stared in horror at them fighting with out him. Choking back on a sob as he watched them fight in pain. Rage blinded one and hopelessness blinded the other. Donnie tried to stand up and watched his older brother fight to keep the bots away from the both of them. Blocking another sword from hitting him as best he could. Raph caught Donnie from falling as he stabbed the nearest bot to them. His brother chuckled softly as Raph held on to him tight,

"Let me go Raph, I'm slowing you down and you know it....you can't continue fighting like this with dead weight"

"I'm not doing that Don! Don't ever fucking say that. We are going to make it!" Raph yelled as he hit another bot in the chest and tore up its wires. Making it explode around the others so they could have time to get away. Donnie was only getting weaker and weaker as Raph held him, losing blood by the second from how deep his wound was. The hot headed brother set him down up against the wall and got ready to fight. Slashing away the metal arrows that shot at him. He lunged forward and grabbed a bot by the head, destroying it as best he could with his arm now injured. But what he didn't realize was some of the bots had gotten around his fighting area. Once he heard the scream soon silenced he knew he had failed his other younger brother too. Raph started to cry, one of the moments Leo never usually seen from his younger brother. He choked back on a sob as he lunged forward screaming in rage, only to get his arm grabbed by the shredder. The diabolical laugh was heard through out the area as the shredder bent Raph's arm like a plastic pipe. Hearing the loud pop from the broken bones in his body shattering from his touch. Shredder walked forward towards Leonardo as he sat there on the floor. Eyes red and blurry as he tried to get out of her grasp, sobbing for them to leave his brother alone like he had been doing the whole time. He couldn't watch this anymore, all of his family gone right in front of him.

"Finally....you are all dealt with....say bye to your brother you stupid reptile" The shredder shouted as he held Raphael in his grasp. Hearing his brother's cries made him weak and sick to his stomach. Leo reached out for him as he screamed his name. But he was to late, his claw came through Raph's neck as he reached out toward him in return. His body lay still and motion less on the floor in front of him with a pool of blood surrounding him. Kari let go of Leonardo and let him fall forward. Cradling his brother's lifeless body in his arms, crying out in pain, hatred and defeat as he held him tighter and tighter. Crying out for his brother's crying out for his sensi, not believing anything he was seeing.

"Kill me......KILL ME DAMN IT.....please....please I-I....I can't d-do this.....I c-can't live with out t-them....m-my brothers a-are all I have e-ever had!"

"I wish this would not end this way Leonardo.....as you wish my old friend....I am sorry" with on quick swipe everything was gone.

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

Leonardo gasped as he sat up in his bed, tears streamed down his face as he sat there. Sweat rolled down his forehead and neck. He held his hands over his eyes as he sat there in silence, trying to calm himself down somewhat from his panic rising with in him. He gazed over to the side of his bed, his eyes still had a blur to them but he could make out that it was 2 in the morning almost. Leo closed his eyes as he pictured what had happened with in his dream over and over again. He has had nightmares before but this was one of the worst ones, especially involving his brothers. That's right his brothers!

The blue masked turtle slipped out of his bed quickly and opened up his door as silently as he could. Making his way down the hall where his brothers rooms were. His panic never left his body as he traveled down towards them. A mix of thought and emotion filled his head as he walked, what if it wasn't a dream. What if they were gone like what happened, Leo shook his head as he took a deep breath. Stopping by Mikey's door first that was shut. He sighed as he carefully opened up the door and gazed in. His little brother was asleep on his bed, his teddy bear in one hand and the corner of his blanket in his other as he laid sprawled out on top of his mattress. Clunk laid next to him curled up in to a ball. The sight made Leo smile softly, erasing worry some that he had but he still needed to check up on the others.

Leo shut his door almost all the way, leaving a small crack as he checked on the opposite side to the smartest of the group. Donnie's door was all the way opened from what Leo could tell. The blue masked turtle gazed in and found him on his stomach with no blanket on. His head was buried in to his pillow, Leo slowly walked in to his younger brothers room and grabbed his blanket at the end of the bed. Donnie must have came from the lab after working all night since he didn't even get his blanket. Leo slowly laid Don's light purple blanket on top of him, tensing up when his brother moved and curled up on his side. Leo only shook his head as he let his breath go. Making his way out of his brother's room slowly so he wouldn't wake him. Now it was down to his hot headed brother's room. After seeing both his younger brothers safe and in bed he felt he didn't necessarily need to. But he wanted to check just to be sure any way,

The oldest brother finally made it down to Raphael's room, the door had the standing out "Keep Out" sign but he knew he would enter anyway. He entered slowly, not even hearing the light snoring his brother would usually do when he sleeps. Leo opened up his door all the way and found his brother way no where to be seen in his field of vision. That's when he started to panic slightly as he gazed around in his brother's room. Finding no trace of him but his weapons and biking gear were still there. Raph was never known for sleep walking either, that was usually Mikey on occasion which was a pain to deal with.

The oldest brother sighed as he ran his hand against the back of his neck as he quickly made his way down back the hallway and in to the main living space they had. He gazed around, the lab first since it was there but as he came back. He saw the red masked turtle laying down on the couch long ways. Watching old reruns of his wrestling show with his eyes getting heavy from lack of sleep. Leo smirked softly as he watched him from a far, thinking he could not see him for now. He loved it when the person Raph was wanting to win won the match. He watched as the corners of Raph's lips raised in to a smile. Since everyone was asleep he couldn't really be overly loud. But Leo could see him muttered yes a few times and what move he predicted they would do next. After a while Leo walked in to the room, watching his brother's green eyes follow him as he walked over. Raphael stretched as he moved his legs for Leo to sit down. Rubbing his eyes slightly to wake himself up some.

"What are you doing up Raph isn't it kinda late since we have training in the morning?" Leo asked softly to not alert anyone asleep in the lair. Raph shrugged softly as he moved the TV remote on to the arm of the couch.

"I don''t wanna hear it from you fearless, I could ask you the same thing......listen I ah....I heard you in yer room. You okay? Did your nightmare mess you up?" Raph asked in a soft and concerned voice that Leo and anyone barely heard anymore since he was little. Leo smiled softly as he watched Raph's expression. They both let the tough act go for once that they kept up daily. Leo's smile fell as he nodded his head, recalling everything that happened in his nightmare. But what surprised him was Raph's arm out wide, smirking as he signaled him to come over to him. They haven't really done anything like this in a long time. They stopped telling the others about nightmares they have had that have haunted their dreams. But when they were little they would always depend on each other to calm them down from the horrid dreams they would have. As much as Raph hated to admit it he loved when Leo would calm him down like his brothers when they were scared. Raph would always do the same for him if Leo had nightmares too in return as if it were a debt to pay.

Leo was hesitant at first but soon came over. Wrapping his arms tightly around Raph for support as he felt tears start to form in his eyes. The act took Raph by surprise but he soon wrapped his arms around his brother tightly in their embrace. He would never get used to his big brother's scared and sad face that he rarely got to see. They were almost like polar opposites but somethings evidently ran in the family when it came to wearing a mask and hiding true feelings. They both hid their emotions for the others on occasion even though from what it seemed like both of them could see past their own charades they played. Each of them knew the other's traits like the back of their hands at times, others they needed a written manual on how they acted.

"You wanna talk about it bro?If ya don't that's fine too I understand...." Raph asked softly as he rubbed his brother's back to calm him down. Raph wasn't really one to be loving like this so Leo was going to take every bit he could out of his brother. It warmed his heart to see him this way and wished he could see him more like this. He knew his brother was all ears at the moment and would listen to everything he said. But at the same time he felt like he didn't want to tell him of his horrid nightmare that bothered him. Not wanting to make this a bigger deal when he could just forget about it and never tell anyone.

"Everyone....e-everyone died.....I couldn't save y-you guys while you were fighting and you d-died right in front of me....just a few feet away...there was just so much blood and...i-it was all so horrible how you a-all"

"Hey calm down fearless we're alright and safe here in the lair, we haven't even left tonight or all day for that matter."

"Yeah we haven't left Leo" The two oldest turtles peaked over and found their two younger brother standing there in the hallway. They both weren't sure how long they had been standing there, but the jig was up for them and they couldn't deny it either. Donnie still had his tired look and Mikey held on to his blanket tightly as they stood there next to each other. Leo chuckled softly as they walked over to them sitting on to the couch. Raph moved a small bit more so the could fit in with the hug they shared. Making sure their older brother was actually okay instead of joking around. Which he never did about this kind of stuff to be honest.

"I thought you guys were asleep when I checked on you"

"Technically we were trying to, but we heard you and when you came in to our rooms to check up on us I figured Mikey did the same and faked being asleep...i wanted to make sure you were alright but I wasn't sure how too." Donnie replied along with Mikey nodding his head in agreement. Leo chuckled as he shook his head, feeling like he was selfish for acting this way in front of his brothers. He has seen all three of them, broken down, depressed in ways, and scared from a nightmare. But he was supposed to be their protector, the one to tell them it was alright. Not the other way around how it was at the moment.

"Whatever you dreamed is not real dude, we are right here and just fine....well Raphie doesn't look fine, still looks kinda ugly to me"

"Hey!"

"Guys we are having a moment come on" Donnie replied over both of them. Canceling out the smirk and the glare on both Raph and Mikey's faces. But the act only made their brother laugh slightly. Which resulted in them smiling, Mikey grabbed Donnie and Raph and pulled them closer to complete the hug once more. It seemed like they stayed like that for a couple of minutes before letting go.

"Everything is gonna be alright Leo okay. We are right here with you" Donnie said with a small yawn as he stared in to his older brother's blue eyes. Making Leo nod his head softly as he yawned in return, leaning his head back up against the couch.Raphael yawned slightly as he laid back and rested his head up against the arm of the couch. Leo's sleepy body followed after in the little space between him the the couch cushions. Donnie only rolled his eyes as he touched the button on the side that popped out the make shift bed that Casey slept on when he stayed over. But before he could even lay down all the way Mikey pounced on to Raph laying there. Knocking the wind out of him slightly as he laid there up against him and the brainiac. Raph couldn't help but smile as Mikey pulled the blanket he had closer toward him instead of sharing with the others. He shared a quick glance at Donnie as they heard Both their youngest and oldest brothers snores as they laid there. Donnie shrugged lightly as he shut his eyes and curled in to the back of Mikey to get more comfortable. Leaving the hot head basically trapped by his brothers in the middle area. But never the less he felt like he could sleep a little bit better knowing they were there by his side. Just like how Leo felt at the moment to know they were alright and safe.

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Hobbit Soulmate Pt 19

It’s been a while but here is the next part. Kind of simple but it gets the story out of limbo zone and into the meatier part of the flow i wanted to get to anyways. :D

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

@evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen

…

Back to the routines you melded easily feeling a bit colder with your father now gone too back to fulfill the final leg of his contracted season before stopping in the end of August to fly out to New Zealand to be with you. A brief week was what you had to deal with yourself alone and groggily on your feet you had finished packing up. The bulk of all you needed in hand for your flight out to LA. It was a shock but with the press and such noteworthy people knowing your name and singing your praises you got landed for a magazine shoot that would land you out there to fit nicely with a spot on a show far from memorable no doubt.

All the same you had to lower your phone when you had told Lee, who was beside himself with worry on his film as the dates neared. The show bits would be the first to film and in the few days you would be in town just like his blankie he wanted to cling to you to get through it. The flight went easily and just as soon as you’d landed it was off to work no matter if you were near to needing a wall to hold you up.

Dolled up in the $600 dress they let you keep, purple with a bell like layered skirt that dipped low in the front you didn’t care of people were staring. Tall heels didn’t help but hell the $300 pair were yours for free and with bag and violin case in hand you finally checked into your hotel and promptly headed down again to hop onto a cab to meet up with Lee.

A tall blonde in platform boots reaching up to the thigh in a leather two piece with freckled shoulders you would know anywhere had the already gawking fellow stage actors drop their jaws more as you said, “Bitch..”

Turning with wide eyes and a minor pout Lee I hard sharply watching your crouch to get a better look at his boots and say, “Damn it all, if you didn’t have such big feet I would be stealing these when filming was through. Legs for days and they still make you taller. Selfish.”

Chuckling lowly he offered a hand to steady you as you rose again and turned to say, “Everybody, this is Jaqi.”

“The infamous girlfriend,” rippled around the room and in the sea of awed people who had caught your show and others who had seen bootleg copies of it filmed and shuffled around you were quickly honed in on by the director who added a minor non speaking role to your resume. Lee was timid on the dancing aspect but with you on site his confidence burst out and that cemented the tiny unasked favor to keep the young star calm through this harrowing role to debut in. A spot in the crowd at the shows and a flicker of a spot at a barbecue later you mingled and blended in causally.

All between your three hour stint at another set for filming and Lee’s stolen bouts of cuddling before you were off to England you were glad you made it to the proper plane on the right day to make it just on time.

School was amazing, just like a glove you melted back into it and soaked in all you could of what you had aches for at having to graduate from Julliard so soon. Yet the London Ballet was different. An hour train, both ways there and back with long rehearsals in a sea of women and men built far different than you hard didn’t come close. It was stunning how amateur they imagined you and how much harder they pressed you to become more like the others when you had surpassed a great deal in skill even on your first day.

All the same the title role got gifted to their perfect star and you graciously accepted your minor role allowing you to nap more once you weren’t needed any longer in the month long show. To then it was paying your dues until you’d fit the mold but to the people expecting so much more from you after hearing such heartwarming compliments on you those buying tickets let it be known they didn’t care they demanded more than a five minute blip for the ticket fees. And of course the press heaped on when they caught wind only adding to your lulling urge to keep up in this place.

Not even mentioning the friends of your grandparents who had far from subtly hinted on higher challenging role set for someone with your pedigree and training leading to your latest role.

“Woof.” You stated taking another bite of your revenge triple order of chips after the first show you had been put into one of the three main female lead roles as a compromise to the noise about your place in the company. “Pedigree, they actually said pedigree, I’m a dog now.”

Dean’s cousin smirked stating in a pinch of your cheek while Richard hid his smirk behind his pint raised for a sip, “And what a cute doggy you are.”

In the roll of your eyes and Dean said, “You didn’t even share the best part.”

“Ooh,” rippled around the table making Chris smirk as he sat beside his brother with a refill on his drink. “Just grow five inches, and I could be their lead all the time, that’s what he,” in a cocky shake of your head and careless swipe of your hand you mimicked the snooty accent of the casting director, “If you could just grow five inches that would be swell and we would not be in this mess.” After a disgusted grunt you said, “I can’t grow five inches, no clue how I would, magic beans or buttons I guess that do that.”

One of the guys smirked, “I can grow five inches,”

And his brother patted his back, “And your bird is so proud of you for that.”

After another bite finishing off the chip you mumbled over your packed cheek behind your raised hand, “Besides, I got hired because I’m this size. I can’t grow or I’d lose the job.”

Dean, “The dream job.”

Another teen smirked saying, “Yes the mystery job none of us can know of yet.”

In a faked whine his brother said, “I hope it comes out soon. The wait is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and Dean said, “Lads, we shall have to be patient and simply watch our dear Bunny puff up until it explodes out of her.”

Richard chuckled asking, “Is it really that terrible dancing there?”

Lowly you sighed, “It’s not. I love it, it’s just the people in charge. And honestly, ballet is so different, from anything else. Theater, singing, playing the violin, even musical theater. It just,” you sighed again, “I just really hope this film goes well, because, I mean, ballet was never my end all be all career. It fucking hurts. All the time, and you have to look a certain way and act a certain way and then there’s the director expecting favor for their ‘gifted roles’ I love ballet, but I don’t think I can do another season here.”

Dean, “Well if you word it right you know your grandparents would hire you.”

“I know. And I do like it at the Bolshoi Company. They offered for after I graduate Oxford for a season. Even when they bring the team on tour of the States.”

Chris, “That sounds better, they would be family.”

“And it’s Bolshoi, not trying to be like Bolshoi. I can be as fucking short as I damn well please and as long as my ass gets up higher than the girls in line under me who gives a flying fuck.”

The men chuckled and raised their glasses making you giggle and lift yours to clink them together, Dean led them in saying, “Here, here.”

Richard, “Have you called your dad about it?”

You nodded after your sip, “He’s happy for me, says to do what makes me happy. Told Gramps when he called the other day, he thinks a season off would do me good. Gran is livid beyond words that I would be treated like this. And now they have this show to honor their careers in January they want me to be a part of. Whole company is insisting, apparently someone had been sending them the press on my career from New York, so, yay.”

Chris, “Not mad at you I hope,”

You shook your head after another sip, “No. they said the same about her when she came to the States as a teen visiting her mom, then she went back home and blew their critics away. Just pent up, stuff.. Plus she said something about a show coming up she wanted me to join them for.”

Dean, “Well we love you no matter what you choose to do.”

Your grin split wider in the nudge of an elbow from one of them making the men chuckle again as you ate another bite of your fish refusing to starve yourself to date the anorexia mongering men in charge of casting.

Richard smirked in tossing his shirt away after his ungrateful plop onto the bed making you smirk in his attempt at alluringly sweeping his hand over the bare spot beside him. In a giggle you climbed in beside him and melted into his offered kissing tug to lay you out against him. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

In a low hum he said, “I’m glad you’re finding what you’re comfortable with. I just wish I could have been around more to help you through it.”

“Ugh,” you scoffed making him chuckle deeply, “You have your play to prep for. Of which I am not missing opening night.”

“Don’t-,”

“Hey, I am not missing it for the world.”

“We only have two weeks left, I’d rather focus on-,”

After stealing a kiss you said, “I’d rather focus on you in those tights of yours,” making him smirk, “And those puffy shorts and that cinched shirt with all those buttons-,”

“So many buttons,” be murmured against your lips then claimed another kiss while he folded around you.

Inspiration. That was why you were here. A one night only show with most of the audience being the cast of an upcoming indie film ‘Billy Elliot’ formerly a play called Dancer now set to be captured for the big screen. And all centered around a boy and his growing love for Ballet and the struggles he faces fro it in a mining town in the 80’s.

The ending called for a rendition scene capturing him grown and performing in Swan Lake with a great amount of hard earned prestige and admiration from his fellow dancers. It would only be a snippet of the full show, and yet to prep the young cast and their assigned on screen relatives they would sit through the classic show of which the Bolshoi Ballet would be performing, all around you as Odette/Odile, the role that Sir Ian had put you on the map for. Press would be there and it would be recorded for the film to remind the cast of the performance and to be sold separately as well.

All the same between shows with the London company you had fit in two rehearsals with all of your company and the managing team watching you flow in effortlessly with their chosen cast all thrilled to see you again. On the big night you could hear the chatter outside of the few well known actors settled to the film waited for by the press to snap pictures as you moved past them with the dancers to get warmed up. Truly you could do the role in your sleep, and honestly you wished you had gotten more sleep but grumbling to yourself while another dancer stepped on your back helping to pop your hip while in full splits you pressed your forehead to your crossed hands hoping you wouldn’t have to dance another night with the throbbing bother.

A painful pop later and up you got hugging the dancer gratefully before moving on with her to help the male lead pop his back after his lingering stiffness from the long flight he was finally recovering from fully. Painted and feathered up with slippers laced you tapped your toes one at a time behind you testing the tips of the new slippers on their give while you waited for the cue to enter onto the stage for the opening curtain.

Hours of stolen pictures and the dazzling scene of ‘adult Billy’ leaping onto the stage in his feathered pant body painted glory later the curtains closed again at the final scene. A pause came then the applause erupted from even the most initially bored children who had sat through the show. The mixer after found you showered and with a smile wearing your expensive dress and heels. All round you speaking with others the cast mingled until a wide grin split across your face as Julie Waters walked up to you after you had finished speaking to a set of dancers who were leaving to get some sleep before their next flight.

“Hello,”

“Hello,” you replied.

“I was wondering if I might as you some questions?”

Anxiously you answered with a broken giggle, “Absolutely,” after a momentary clearing of your throat you said, “What’s on your mind?”

Your held grin and gentle nods egged her on in asking her full list broadening her view of the art form and how the studies are handled and how a teacher would actually handle courses. Though the more you shared with the after lesson regimens and show effects on you it took away the glamour of things easing her own version of a teacher who was nowhere as strict as those monitoring in prestigious ballet companies fitting more to the town it was set in.

The boys were the last to come up, with the girls all having been so eager but with Dean and your friends coming up to talk to you Jamie Bell, the young Billy, especially loved hearing how you and Dean had struggled into dance lessons at Oxford and you also in Julliard while working steady jobs. Emails were traded for questions to be answered as they would come up later. And somehow you had managed to wiggle your way under Richard’s arm in an unaccountable shower and change into one of his shirts while he slept in his briefs not even caring to pull anything else on after his day of rehearsals and your show after he insisted on attending.

More and more Richard seemed to be worried about how the time apart would go after the last time when Tiffany had found him in a night of weakness while September neared. But after sharing his own call with his agent where he had heard of casting for a certain Elven Prince he was laughed out of and nudged away from trying for he came home to share the news only to see you bite your lip and explode himself in excitement for you at finding out what role you had gotten. Even in not being able to join you on the filming of a lifetime he was thrilled you could experience it with your father and hoped to sneak out for a visit himself.

It was secured, once you had told your grandparents about the job to explain why you couldn’t fly out to Russia for a season at the company they leapt at the chance to help you feel more secure in your dream job even they were excited for you to have earned. A large patch of land with seven cottages sprawled in a ring across it, the smaller ones split into separate apartment suites all joined in a stone courtyard with a fire pit and outdoor cooking area meant for plenty of guests was where you would call home.

It all looked so picturesque and near to dream like you were almost certain the pictures were a lie and you would walk into a raccoon’s nest without a roof and only half the walls and a giant wasps nest in the chimney. Honestly that would help to ease you into the role, if something outside the job was wrong so you couldn’t mess it up. If anything else went wrong then you had an amazing chance of this working out perfectly for you. Wine and dining was your final goodbye on the weekend after your final classes you bit your lip and entered the airport gate Chris had dropped you at with a tight hug Richard couldn’t give while warming up for the second night of his play.

24 hours including boarding time you were to be stuck on this plane and once again you poured through your tolkien collection well worn with taped spines and a shoddy glue job on a few of the pages coming apart at the seams with notes scattered throughout widening your smile. Richard’s play had gone wonderfully and you couldn’t help but keep smiling all through it even if he wasn’t the lead. You could almost see his future self leading an ensemble of his own when companies would have more faith in his name to draw in ticket sales and you’d be lying if you didn’t want to miss all the days in between his shoot to stardom. It hurt not having him here but all the more it was perfect to have your dad here, just a matter of weeks now and he would be joining you.

It was annoying how early you had shown up, that was your impression, but a check in call after having to adjust the date of training camp on the original date you had arrived not wanting to risk a fee to shift the date. Two full weeks you were early and outside the gate Peter and Fran chuckled helping you load your bag into the open trunk and guide you into the backseat beside their two children.

Chuckling to himself Peter stated, “For all the eagerness in the world I for one am glad you arrived early. Now we can give you the full tour. The workshops, our model scales and also through camp we can show you some of the locations we’ve scoped out for certain cities and traveling shots you would love. But first, I think we should take you for some food. There’s a great place by the studio lot, and we can help you stock up on some grub after, the house you mentioned it is furnished?”

“Gran said it would be. If not it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept on the floor.”

Fran, “You aren’t sleeping on any floor. If it isn’t we are taking you home with us until it can be furnished.”

“I couldn’t-,”

Peter, “Can and will. Your first time in New Zealand you need some family to show you round and keep an eye out through camp, I know your dad will surely appreciate us treating you like the family you are.”

That made you smile wider and while Fran asked you on if you had brushed up on Tolkien your books were brought up and even out for the lunch in the small eatery they had brought you to. A small hole in the wall with ample space on the booth table for you to show them plenty of your notes, all of which were consulted again when you were shown through the workshops stirring more and more elated squeaks from you.

And it truly was perfect, two story log and stone cabin style home with an amazing view stunning Peter as well who said, “The other cottages are yours as well?”

“Ya, they said it was the only one with enough space. Though what I need twenty five acres for I have no clue. It’s not far, guess I could find a bike shop for some wheels.”

Peter, “Well if you’re up for renting I know a few of the younger guys had said they were finding trouble locating rentals.”

“Sure, long as they don’t eat the pipes and such,” making him chuckle as you let out a weak giggle, “We could have a sort of Tolkien campground out here.”

Peter, “Exactly, nice and private and we could send out vans for you all to make it easier. I’ll make some calls. I know Ian and Sean would love the peace and views especially.”

Fran gave you a smile as you led the way into the largest cottage to bring in the food to fill the fridge and cabinets in the cozily furnished home in which Peter set down your bag and his wife said, “Now, tomorrow at seven sharp we’ll take you in for all the molds and final measurements and we can get you started on the weapons and movement training.”

Peter, “No worries our other size doubles are here early as well.”

And that was it, you were in new Zealand. Cocoa in hand you welcomed your first sunset and tried to sleep on your chosen bed, the second largest, as the room with two King beds pushed together clearly was your dad’s. You had your own bathroom and somehow the texts and emails off to friends and family had calmed you down enough to sleep.

Molds were first, with hair braided back your whole face was coated in blue goop you tried to remain as un giggly as possible until it was peeled off. Face, neck, ears, hands and even your feet were molded with every inch measured easing the varied sketches of the fifty possible characters you could play in varied locations to be joined by a great number of the crew when casting extras had run thin for certain locations. Sweats and a tank top were your go to with new converse nearly worn through by your second week of physical training where everyone could see just how toned you had made certain to build yourself up to ensuring you could survive the filming.

Straight from the airport exhausted actors in vans were unloaded for their tours while you worked with a few of the stunt doubles on a complicated fight scene in varied actor’s places. Eyes landed on you and familiar low chuckles had your final sword swing planting faked into the chest of a goblin before your head turned from the chuckling stunt actor and you smirked in your stroll over to Ian already walking out to greet you. A tight hug later and one by one each actor beginning with the Hobbits were introduced to you noting your spreading grin, with Elijah being he widest.

Peter, “And for Frodo, Elijah Wood. I take it you’re a fan?”

In a giggle at his weak chuckle looking you over you replied, “Oh I have a friend that will die hearing I get to work with you.” Subtle squeaks came out in introducing Sean, David and Hugo. John gave you a nod of his head, clearly uninformed of your role just yet and at the wide eyed brunette beside him you said, “Hey Orlando,”

Peter, “You know each other?”

“Oh ya, year or so now,” you looked to Orlando again, “Let me guess, Legolas?”

After clearing his throat he nodded, “Yes,”

Curiously between you Stuart Townsend looked you over in his own introduction as Aragorn before he asked, “So, who are you playing?”

Peter laughed saying, “Haven’t named all her roles yet, for now, it’s a surprise.” Making you giggle again and head back to rehearsals.

Changed into workout clothes the men started on their own movement courses while you continued with Peter and the stunt men finalizing the fight scenes to train the men on later the guys kept stealing glimpses of. Lunch however freed you up for a chance to possibly meet with John again only to turn around and grin seeing Orlando with another quick grin. “Hi,”

Giggling you replied, “Hi.”

“Listen, I, um, meant to call…”

With a nod you teased, “You mean after we made out in the theater for hours and you promised you would?” at his nip at his lip you nudged his arm, “Hey, water under the bridge. You’ll be seeing a lot me, near daily I bet, I would love to be friends. Certainly would help things.”

“Yes it would.” Anxiously he wet his lips, “So who are you playing?”

Widening your grin you said, “You’re just going to have to wait and see there pointy eared princeling.” Winking at him in your path around him making his eyes narrow a moment in watching you trot over to John beside Peter, the pair of whom were already talking about you. That was the beginning of a timid friendship, to your charms he certainly had fallen with Ian and Peter smoothing the way and by dinner at your home the guys all excitedly inspected and accepted a suite at you had all gathered around the fire pit Peter helped to teach you how to use it and the outdoor kitchen properly. That first dinner began it all and friendships started to brew up with the puzzling female in their midst making all but the amused John wonder just what role in the testosterone packed film could be taking.

All the same the men in archery, swordsmanship and movement came between your cherished horseback lessons enabling you to bond with the steeds you would be working with through the films. The more you got into training camp it became obvious something wasn’t fitting, as talented as he was the actor for Aragorn had to be older. A few minor traveling scenes had been filmed with no dialog at all and the 87 year old future King had to be recast. Visiting Peter on your day off you were privy to the table of headshots and resumes, a single ‘ooh’ from you and with a smirk Peter and Fran felt their own personal preference confirmed and the calls were made.

Within two days the new hire was on the ground and curiously looking you over beside Peter and Fran when you went to pick him up from the airport. An excited ‘hi’ later and he was wrangled up as you had been and invited to the dinner that night at your campground for the cast he loved at once. Ample space for himself and his son when he could be brought out for a visit while being close to the main cast. Still he was curious why you were in your own house alone until Fran had mentioned your dad was coming to film as well in a couple weeks.

Instantly in your aiding him through catching up on the history and any physical training he would need freshening up on a solid bond was formed and by the third day he had fully taken you on as a baby sister assigning himself to look after you until your dad got there. But nothing was funnier than hearing how you and Orlando had known one another explaining why he was still so awkward around you.

Though the final week of training camp when you should have been getting word from your dad on his arrival your stomach couldn’t seem to unclench and an odd day of silence from you came after headlines of an oil rig hit by a terrible storm. Again you had to take a moment off in the hall to calm yourself down after another hour had passed without word. Silently Peter kept hold of your phone you didn’t want to leave alone allowing you to pull yourself together, glad you weren’t alone but still hating that you had refused to take the day off at the news. His eyes rose when Viggo slipped away from a stunt rehearsal to ask, “Something’s wrong with Jaqi?”

Inhaling sharply the Director answered lowly, “That oil rig on the news,” Viggo nodded with curiously furrowed brows, “Her dad was on it.” He lifted her phone, “Hopefully he’ll send word soon they got out safe. Swears she just needs a moment. I tried to get her to stay home.”

Viggo, “She’s certain it’s his rig?” Peter nodded and nipping at his lip the actor went back to his scene seeing you inhaling sharply in a trot back up onto the cushioned platform the guys were on, only now having a hint that you would be doubling for John at your ax you had been rehearsing with for the past few days. Pink eyed you nodded to the stunt men readying to go again lulling the men back to regretful silence wondering what was going on until two hours later at lunch your phone rang and Peter called you over taking you into a side room.

Against the wall you slid down in tears talking to your uncle who had spent the night having your dad flown out to Texas to be seen at a hospital there. Still in scans to see what was wrong with his burned and swollen arm he swore he would call again before he would head back to their house to pack the rest of his things from the house there added to his bags he had loaded onto the escape ships when the rig caught fire to fly out to you. Information through Fran was traded to confirm the flight number and times before you were given the phone to sniffle your way through hearing your dad fresh back from a scan saying he had a minor arm sprain he had to be given a brace for and mild burns on his arm. Fully able and willing to just get to you after his days of hell in the middle of the ocean. Tightly in Peter’s arms you were held until you calmed fully and wiped your cheeks to join the others for lunch where the reason for your tears had bubbled out leaving all the men eager to spread the love and eagerness to welcome your dad as well.

Pt 20

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC #lotr

21 notes · View notes

secret-time-is-here · 4 years

Text

The King and his Aid

Chapter 10: Family

Previous - First (Season 1) - First (Season 2) - Next

While the night before had been awkward and being honest, both of them hated it, the next morning was hopeful. Neil waking up early by the sun’s light pouring through the open curtains and immediately started waiting by the door like a puppy waiting for their owner to return.

The time ticked by at a turtles speed but at the ripe hour of noon, Dean and Edwin finally showed, the King jumping on his aid as soon as he walked in the door, hugging him close. His brother shaking his head at his foolishness and Cecil simply laughing at how adorable they were in a heap on the floor.

From there, Neil rarely let go of his boyfriend, clinging to him. It seemed that his partner didn’t mind at all since the few times they separated their tight hold, the darker skeleton would cling to his King instead. His body was always so cold, chest pounding in pain, but when Edwin was with him. Everything changed.

A strong warmth branched and streamed from his chest and where they touched, the pounding pain that made his form shiver eased to a heat akin to comfort, under layers of blankets on a cold winter day with your lover. Often, he could swear that he felt their souls beat in sync, a rhythm of a song he didn’t know until he accepted his feelings for his Eddie.

He still didn’t know the name, and he doubts he’ll ever find out, but he knew it went to the beat of his love. A steady cycle that flowed soothingly like their relationship, dropping with their lows and easing to their moments of peace and love.

Even as he was away from his love and changed into something more comfortable for beach lounging, and the song was fading, he could still remember it in his mind and him it by heart.

“Brother,” Dean knocked, poking his head into the large room he had, “You almost done? I swear, you taking longer than any Princess getting ready, and that’s saying something.” He laughed, casual as he walked into the room without prompt.

“Sorry, just… Do I look good?” Neil hesitantly asked

“Neil, we’re bones with clothes over, our bags of flesh gone who knows where. I think we can wear basically anything and look good.” The King glared at the younger, “Yes, you look great. Now let’s get going, your glitchy is waiting for you.” He laughed further, leaving the room without his brother.

Neil hurriedly followed along, walking into the airy and lit up halls of the second floor and down to the open and summer heat of the first floor, through the open back porch and down further to the beach.

“You sure I look okay?”

“Yes, you look great! Now let’s get down there, they’ve been waiting for us long enough.” Dean assured, surprised he was worrying so much over swim trunks when most of them were wearing practically the same thing, aside from Cecil, who still had to have proper swimwear for his female born body.

Thankfully, at the least, he could wear some swim bottoms and have a t-shirt to cover his chest, making him a little more comfortable.

However, when Neil and Edwin caught each other’s eyes, something sparked.

Edwin��s coal-black ribs showcased to the world, scars littered randomly from his years of training, a large slash across his chest but healed by time. His arms a lovely crimson, wrist and hands switching back to coal for just a moment before showing multicolor fingers. His intermediate phalanges a brilliant sunflower-yellow and the tips crimson once more. A faintly noticeable red glow hiding his healing soul. Glitches sprinkled across his form and as handsome as always.

On the other hand, Neil’s pristine and pearly bones were plain and gorgeously prefect to Edwin, not a scar insight and curved nurtured bones. Ribcage strong and a glow of purple from his raging soul coming from it. Burning with magic. A dark stain of eggplant-purple the only outliner, smack in the middle of his chest, the size of a fist and surprisingly not affecting him at all. To Edwin, it showed him that even his angel of a partner had his handsome imperfections.

When they managed to tear their gaze away from each other’s bodies, they got knowing looks from the other two skeletons with them.

Cecil gave a wide smirk.

“Get a room!” He smiled, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling the royal along with him as the ran from the powerfully flustered couple. Thankfully only playfully running after them and not throwing any attacks.

-----

The day lounging at the beach went by quickly after that, Edwin finding a comfortable place surrounded by his King’s arms and in his lap, while Dean awkwardly tried to talk with Cecil, acting more like the teen he is rather than the high Prince act he holds up.

The King and his aid getting revenge by telling the awkward pair to get a room of their own, to their surprise, they did do later that night. Cecil leaving the master bedroom with Neil to go off and find Dean’s room, giving Edwin the opportunity he couldn’t miss.

Quietly knocking on the door, giving the few quick knocks he always did-letting Neil know who it was, he walked in. closing the door behind him.

“Error?” Neil’s voice carried, tired and quiet, “Are we taking their advice now?” He joked

“Y-yeah… Do you mind if I join you?” The aid asked, still as quiet as he could be.

“Not at all,” The King softly smiled, “Please, join me.” Letting one of his dark tendrils pull the curtains closed and another guide Edwin over to him in the darkroom, nothing more than their eye lights illuminating the room. That and their faint but visible blushes, Neil’s a royal purple while Edwin had blue sparkled across his skull.

Edwin walked closer, holding the tendril-like a hand and caressing it with such love that it deepened Neil’s blush further, the tendril being made of his magic and an extension of himself.

“J-just get over here.” The Royal huffed, becoming more flustered by the second. His aid the only one to ever really see the tendrils, let alone not be disgusted by them. Yes, his brother Dean has seen them, even has broth yellow beams of light to manipulate as he pleases, but that was different. He was family, he knew and understood the fear their magic brings.

But Edwin… he wasn’t afraid of him. Wasn’t afraid of his magic. The first person to ever really try and get to know him. They could’ve separated ways after Neil had found him, but they stayed close and became even closer. He was happy the court knew nothing about their relationship. They would tear the two apart in a soul beat if they ever found out.

Smiling bright, Edwin climbed into bed with his King, snuggling close quickly. Arms snug around his lover, and his lover’s arms closing around him. Lulling down into a restful sleep, Neil felt his soul beat calmly, singing its song once more basking in the warmth of his partner.

-----

“Are you sure you’re okay, C?” Neil asked again, helping Cecil to a chair outside, Dean close by and Edwin watching carefully and aiding in anything he could. Cecil having moe trouble than usually due to a little bump resting on his belly.

At least they didn’t have to do it again.

“Please, Neil, I’m fine. The little one is just giving me a bit of a hard time.” Cecil laughed, still not used to being married, much less pregnant.

“Positively sure?” Dean asked, giving much more affection and attention than Neil would ever be able to. Acting a lot more fatherly and protective than Neil was over his own wife.

“Yes!” Cecil laughed, going from annoyed to giggly and laughing in a second, easing down onto a picnic blanket on the lime-colored summer grass. Everyone else starting to ease down with him, relaxing more as The Queen got comfortable. “So, what’d you all want to talk to me about?”

“It’s nothing much...” Dean tried to start, unsure of how to bring it up or even talk about it. Cecil starting to lean against him and practically having his full upper body in Dean’s lap.

“We, Dean and I, weren’t born normally.” Neil bluntly explained, getting an eyebrow raise from his wife, “Our mother took a part of her soul, a third or fourth to be exact, and used her magic to give it a vessel. Creating me, and some years later, Dean.”

Edwin nodded along, already knowing of everything and the connection, following and keeping watch when Neil would go to see his mother.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Cecil questioned, exasperated. Not sure of what else to say.

The King exchanged a look with his brother, a smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Dean and I wanted you to meet her tonight.”

-----

The four of them slipped out into the night, protected by their veil of darkness, few soldiers around-but all on the prowl for any threats.

The moon was hung high and bright in the sky, not reaching the peak of the night, but only hours away from it. The air was frigid, the couples close to each other, although parting ways when they made it to the former Queen’s burial site.

Dean guiding Cecil to the grave and sitting him down, letting his soul bring out the spirit of his mother, and explaining further while Neil and his number one walked further-teleporting away to their home.

The dark curtain of night shadowed the grove, the gurgling river calming to a steady flow, their cabin cleaned up some from their visits.

Edwin quickly ran in, the cold starting to hurt his bones, the frost bitting and eating at his magic. Neil hurried after him and once he got inside, pulled his aid over to the bed they had fixed up, the frame made of logs but the mattress comfy and broken in. Plaid blankets draped around and plain brown-cased pillows laid down.

The servant shivered as he was pulled into the warm embrace, easing into the bed and starting to calm down.

“Night?”

“Hm?”

“...love you, always.” Neil gave a soft smile and a peck to Edwin’s mouth.

“Love you forever, number one.”

Nightmare and Dream belong to @jokublog

Ccino belongs to @black-nyanko

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 9 full draft

Waking up with a soft yawn, Lance nuzzled into the warm body holding him tight, not being able to remember the last time he felt so well rested, or has slept through the night entirely. Feeling the lips, of who could only be Keith, peppering the top of his head with kisses, Lance stretched with another soft yawn as he wiggled up to lay face to face with his husband. Behind him, there was a nasally snore, causing him to nearly giggle when Shiro followed it up with one twice as loud. Brushing his hair back from his forehead, Keith's smile was filled with love. Far too much love to be waking up to. He'd acted so deplorably the day before

"I was betting he'd wake before you did"

"He's been really good to me"

"I know. How are you feeling?"

All limbs were attached. Keith's smell was drowning out Shiro's. He was still drowsy, but Keith was home so that made everything alright... plus, he only felt slightly nauseous

"I don't remember how we ended up in bed"

Keith's expression turned pained. Doing that thing where he bit the inside of his cheek as he drew his brow, yet his scent eyes gave away the pain... The last thing he remembered...

"We were sitting in... the kitchen... and... Hunk made me drink that tea... it gets kind of foggy"

"You were falling asleep in the kitchen so we went to the secondary entertainment room..."

"And Pidge was there..."

Lance could definitely remember hearing Pidge's voice recently...

"When everyone else came in, you went to get up. Before that you said you were feeling funny. You ended up having a seizure"

"In front of everyone?"

"We told them it was because you've been sick..."

Everyone saw. Everyone saw him having a seizure...

"Babe, it's ok"

"It's not ok"

There were things he wasn't ready to talk to everyone about yet. He still needed time... He didn't want to admit to Hunk and Pidge that his torture had resulted in seizures due to a serious brain injury

"Look, Shiro and I told them it was because you were sick. We told Daehra it was because you pushed yourself too far. We covered for you"

They shouldn't have to cover for him. He was a grown arse adult

"Stop giving me that look. You can make it up to everyone at breakfast this morning"

"I had a seizure in front of everyone"

"And all everyone wanted to go know was if you were ok. No one was laughing. No one was judging you. Do you really think Shiro or I would have let them keep their teeth if they had?"

"I haven't seen anyone today... how am I supposed to know if they all have teeth still"

Nuzzling into his face, Keith rolled him away from Shiro so he was forced to lay on top of his husband. His stomach and his bladder protesting laying front down

"That's my man. God, Lance. You're so quiznakkingly beautiful"

Feeling himself blush, Lance dropped his head next to Keith's so he didn't have to meet his husband's eyes

"Shut up..."

Sliding his hands down Lance's back, Keith massaged at his lower back with his fingertips

"Don't tell me to shut up. I know you're smiling"

"Who's fault is that? It's too early in the morning... and it's the first morning I haven't woken up feeling worse than when I went to sleep"

"That's good... hey, lift your face for me. I want to look at you"

"That sounds like the perfect reason not to"

"Why? You're beautiful. Waking up with you still feels like a dream"

"Keeeith"

Whining his husband's name, Lance mouthed at his husband's neck. If Keith was going to tease him so soon after waking up, then his husband was going to have to face the consequences

"Mmm... I won't say no this kind of wake up when we're on Daibazaal"

Parting his lips, Lance sucked hard, Keith jerking under him as he tried to push his face off the place Lance was sucking a hickey. Stopping when he tasted blood, the Cuban let his husband finally have his wish of seeing his face. He hope he was showing the right emotions... as he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling emotionally. His head felt better for having slept, and for having fluids in his system, but everything else was frustratingly muddled. He was embarrassed over having a seizure. Scared to face everyone after collapsing in front of them. He didn't want to lie to everyone, but he also didn't want them disgusted over his body... buuuut, with the way Keith was looking at him so softy, he wanted to throw everything away and cling to Keith. Have Keith keep him calm in their bed. Their space he'd opened up to Shiro without asking Keith's permission. Then there were all those thoughts. He felt like absolutely quiznak for not being able to come out of his own head for Shiro. It'd been hard to reach out, and now he didn't know how to apologise for Keith being the only one to fix this broken side of him. Leaning up, Keith was lucky Lance was flexible as nuzzled into his face. Apparently he hadn't been enough of a shit to get his revenge for Keith being stupidly perfect

"You scared the shit out of me last night. When you fell like that. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get your mouth open and you kept throwing up. I was scared you were going to drown... and I was scared for our babies..."

"I'm sorry... I wanted to see everyone last night..."

Lance was absolutely terrified at the idea of seeing everyone all at once. All their scents. All their voices and things he needed to keep up with. But yesterday felt like if he didn't man up and do it then, he'd only run when the time came. It's kind of been nice to listen to Keith and Hunk talk, but he had no idea what he'd talked to Pidge about. He hoped it wasn't about the fact he was still yet to use the finger she'd gone to all that effort to make him.

"I know. You were too sick and I should have pushed harder at you to rest. You're not disappointing any of us by being ill. You're pregnant with our babies, and... that's some kind of miracle"

"Your babies are making me sick... I can tell they're going to be trouble"

Not that he was attached to them... He was... but he was trying to be realistic. Keith was still not the "enthusiasm" stage of things. Not the... Oh fuck...

"Babe. How do we get them out!?"

All of a sudden the "real" stage of things popped its ugly head up and smacked him a dose of reality he did not need. Watching Keith's eyes widen like his, his husband's scent shifted so dramatically with fear that he was sent running to the bathroom.

Following Lance into the bathroom, Keith sat behind him. Rubbing his back as he reacquainted himself with the toilet bowl, tears streamed down his face as he panicked over how he was supposed to give birth. He didn't want them coming out the same way they'd come in. That would hurt!

"Babe! How do I give birth? I don't want to give birth out my buuutt..."

Wailing at his husband, Keith laughed softly

"We woke Shiro up. He reminded me that c-sections are a thing..."

He wasn't sure he wanted a caesarean either...

"My stomach's going to be sooo fat and then they're going to cut it!"

Throwing up, the sound blocked out Keith's reply. Shuffling up further behind him, Keith pulled his hair back from his face before tying the longer bits into a ponytail much like the one Bob had made his husband wear. He really needed a hair cut, but his self care and pampering had gone to shit as he now appreciated practicality over everything

"You're not going to be fat. You're going to be all round from our babies"

"But my butt... what if they can't take them out?"

Nearly hyperventilating, he choked on the vomity spit in his throaty. Moving up from rubbing his back, Keith rubbed his shoulder

"Shhhh... we've got phoebs to work it out"

"I don't want to give birth! I like my arse! You like my arse! What if you don't love me when I'm fat!"

"Baby, I'm always going to love you. Always. Even if we fight or something, we'll make up"

"I don't know how to have a baby"

He imagined it was going to hurt a lot. Miscarrying hurt so bad... but that wasn't a fully formed baby... babies don't have small heads...

"I don't know either. But we're going to get through this and have our beautiful twins"

"My butt has to hurt twice"

Yes. He was concerned about his butt.. His butt. Hips. Stomach... breasts... was he going to get breasts? Keith loved him because he was a boy. With boy bits... Now his husband was fucking laughing

"When you get further along we can explore your options"

His options? What?! With wide eyes, he continued his freak out

"My options!? Where are you going to be!? If I have to go through this, you have to be there too! I'm not going through this without you!"

Gagging, Lance wanted it to stop already as he turned back to the toilet to vomit. Keith nuzzling into his hair line like all of this wasn't gross

"I mean how you feel most comfortable giving birth. I'm going to be there"

"You don't know that. Mum's having a baby too... she needs you! What if you're on a mission"

"I won't be"

"Keith!"

His husband was acting far too relaxed about this... and now he was laughing again

"Babe. I'm going to be there. I promise you this. If I'm not, you can castrate me"

Scrunching his nose up, Lance didn't find the humour in it. He'd cut off Klearo's dick, then slit his throat. He was trying not to think of him... and trying not compare the difference in morning sickness as it was

"Not funny"

"Sorry. Are you done here? I have no idea what the time is but breakfast should be ready. Or there's some vegetable soup in the fridge that Hunk dropped off last night"

Oh Keith. Poor sweet Keith. Lance almost pitied his husband's naivety... Morning sickness had a mind of its own... something that was proven when they were both stuck there for the next 2 vargas.

Joining everyone in the secondary entertainment room for a late breakfast, Lance had an armful of Pidge almost immediately after he and Keith walked into the room. Shiro had been on a call to Curtis who'd decided to bring the Atlas out to the outpost sooner, so had left to greet his boyfriend. Patting Pidge on the head, he'd never really committed her scent to memory, most probably because he hadn't had the chance. As weird as it was, she smelt like the oil you used on creaking hinge mixed with something floral... When he thought about it, it made sense given her love of robotics and her former status as the Green Paladin

"Don't you ever do that to me again! I was scared you dumb arsehole"

"I'm sorry, Pidgeon. I'm feeling much better than I did yesterday"

"What was that, even? You said you felt funny... then you were... I don't think I've been that scared since I returned home and had to face my mother"

"I'm ok. I'll be ok..."

He didn't want to talk about the seizure, yet before he knew what was happening, Keith's team was also hugging him. It was weird... their smells not sitting well with his delicate nose, and it left him uncomfortable knowing they'd never have hugged him if he hadn't made a fool out of himself. Growling at the group, Keith pulled him backwards so his back hit his husband's broad chest

"That's enough pawing at my husband. He's fine"

Zethrid and Ezor didn't say anything, shrugging at each other and returning to where they'd been playing cards with two soldiers that must have been recruits. One looked like a smaller version of Zethrid, like if one was to cut her off at her knees, while the other... for a split tick looked so much like Lotor that he found himself staring. Not quite smiling at him, Acxa hesitated before asking

"We were just learning how to play UNO with Katie. Would you like to join us?"

Pidge hissed at the name Katie, Lance dropped his head back onto Keith's shoulder. His husband's scent was filled with annoyance and possessiveness. Lance swore he could taste Keith's warning to others on the tip of his tongue

"He needs to eat breakfast first"

"He needs to explain last night too"

Lance gut rolled. Pidge was too smart for her own good. There was no way he couldn't tell them... despite how embarrassing he found it

"I... I'm not going to get out of this, am I?"

"Not as long as your sick"

Kissing the side of his head and rubbing his hands up and down Lance's upper arms, Keith tried to buy him more time

"It's a good thing he's not sick"

"Babe..."

"You're not sick anymore. And it's not like you're contagious"

"I don't know... there seems to be something in the air. If I pinky promise that I'm ok, will you believe me?"

Pidge sighed dramatically at the pair of them

"Pinky promising on the finger you refuse to wear doesn't count"

"I don't need it"

"All that hard work! I even put in a vibration setting for you and Keith"

Lance wasn't sure whether to laugh or be mortified... As it stood, option b seemed the way to go

"Pidge!"

"What? I was trying to make it practical"

"Alright you two, no more arguing. Lance, come sit down babe. Maybe if we get lucky, we can watch Pidge lose at UNO"

"Pffft. See if I worry about you in the future. As for losing at UNO, these poor losers are about to make me rich"

Guided to sit a few chairs down, Keith moved his chair up behind him so Lance could sit sideways and watch the game. Pidge was ruthless. He almost felt bad for the two Galra

"Babe, who are they?"

"Just recruits"

Mentally rolling his eyes, Lance sighed

"I know that. I wanted to know their names. That tall one looks like he's the son of Lotor and Acxa... He's actually kind of cute"

Growling, Lance found himself man handled into Keith's lap

"You're my husband"

"I know that. I was simply making the observation. Plus... he keeps looking at us and I don't know what to do"

It was true. Each time the Galra's pinky-purple eyes were cast their way, Lance felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't even met the stranger, so wasn't sure how he could have insulted him

"You don't have to do anything. They're probably shocked from how cuddly I am with you"

"You're as bad as Kosmo when it comes to pats and love"

"Only from you. We need to make plans after this. We're both going to need to pack"

Lance wasn't looking forward to packing or to moving. He was all for being with Keith constantly, because he found it nearly impossible to truly be mad with the man, but they'd only need back together and Keith was acting seriously possessive, especially with the way he was pressing against his stomach like he was trying to shield their twins. His husband knew his stomach hurt, yet had lifted him out of his chair like it was nothing. Taking Keith's hands off of his stomach, he interlaced their fingers, leaning back to whisper

"Can you not move me like that?"

"What? Why? Is something wrong?"

Now Lance felt bad... Keith didn't seem to realise that they were going to adjust their actions to accomodate his new "condition", his husband merely wanted to hold him. Kissing Keith's jaw, he hoped he'd softened the harshness of his whispered request

"No... no, you're pressing on my stomach, and... I'm a bit nervy with everyone here"

"Quiznak... I'm sorry, babe. I should have..."

"Keith, don't. I didn't mean to imply anything, or to upset you..."

"I should have thought... you were just sick..."

Fuck... He'd really upset Keith, or rather because of him Keith was upset with himself. Turning in Keith's hold, he gave Keith a soft smile

"And I'm not going to break. My nerves are being stupid and my stomach still feels tense. I don't know about you, but I don't want to wind up back in the bathroom so soon"

"I don't either... is... has it been that bad?"

"It wasn't too bad this morning. It's more annoying than anything"

"I'm sorry..."

How was he supposed to try and be happy about the pregnancy if Keith was apologising?

"Please stop apologising. I don't want you to treat me like I'm made of glass. I don't want your pity or your sympathy. You said you were happy about this, so I want you to be happy"

"I don't want to see you suffer"

"I'm not. We just need to find a new rhythm now it's not just us to think about. I love you, and I love your cuddles, but I'm not up for suddenly being picked up or manhandled right now. It's a new situation for us, so of course things are going to happen... but we can talk about it, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, baby. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything. I'm... mad for not thinking about it"

"You didn't have to think about it because it's been a long time since your touch caused us any major issues. I'm still getting better, and I... feel shitty for telling you that I can't do this long distance thing anymore. I feel like I failed you because I can't cope without you"

"No. No you haven't. You're so fucking strong"

"I haven't felt that strong lately"

"That's not your fault. You didn't ask for these panic attacks, or for this... sickness..."

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Lance's heart felt heavy

"Still. I should be better by now"

"You are doing so much better"

"I had a seizure in front of everyone... I feel like shit lying to them"

"If you don't want to lie, I'll support you. I've got your back, no matter what"

Sighing to himself, Lance wished he could see in himself what Keith seemed to see. Pidge had been so shaken by his seizure. He'd scared Keith and Shiro... and poor Curtis... he'd basically stolen the man's boyfriend away with no explanation. He wasn't particularly close to Curtis, yet he respected the man and knew Shiro loved him deeply. He also didn't want to be the cause of further complications between them

"Um... babe... do you know when the Atlas will be arriving?"

"Probably about now. Why? What is it?"

"I want to apologise to Curtis... and I want to explain things to him"

"You don't need to do that. He'll understand"

"He shouldn't have to understand. He adores Shiro. Shiro... he talked to me about how Curtis helps him through his nightmares and panic attacks. I... thanks to you, I know I'm not going to get better without being honest and Shiro said much the same thing. I want to explain to him, maybe not that I'm pregnant yet, but that I had a major episode and that nothing happened"

"You don't need to explain, but we can if you really want to"

He wanted to for Shiro's sake. He wanted to help preserve Shiro's happiness

"I think I need to. Can we go before we eat? While there aren't that many people around and before Veronica finds me?"

"You're scared of what she'll say, aren't you?"

"A bit... I haven't even explained things to mami. She worries so much with me being out here and the time thing makes it really hard... It's been several phoebs for me. She get confused with the time, then I get confused..."

"I know I've had issues with Veronica in the past, but I think she'd understand if we, if you, wanted to tell her"

"I don't want to make her worry. Do you know how much she'll nag about all the missions and supply runs I've done alone? I want to feel normal"

In other words he mentally couldn't handle being pregnant and everyone constantly keeping an eye on his every move because they thought he was going to have a sudden seizure. Kissing his hair, Keith nodded

"We can go find Shiro and Curtis right now. I can message Shiro, that's probably going to be easier"

"Yeah... um... do you think he can meet us near the staff door around the side? I don't want anyone overhearing us"

"Sure. I'm proud of you, babe"

"Don't be too proud, I still have time to chicken out"

"You won't. You're so much stronger than you know"

Heading back through the outpost, Shiro and Curtis were waiting for them when they arrived. Despite standing close to each other, Lance was sure there was some kind of lingering tension there. Feeling Keith's hand on his shoulder tighten, it seemed his husband had noticed it too. Raising his hand to greet them, Shiro's smile seemed slightly faked

"Hey, Lance. Keith. I got your message, you said you wanted to talk?"

"Lance wants to talk to Curtis, if that's alright?"

Curtis looked mildly surprised, as Lance nodded at Keith's words

"You want to talk to me? Are you sure?"

Curtis's tone rubbed his instincts the wrong way, despite there being no malice in it

"Yeah. Umm... if that's ok. It won't take very long, I promise"

Shiro seemed as confused as Curtis was

"Lance, is something the matter? Did something happen?"

"No. No, it's ok. I just need to borrow your boyfriend for a tick. I thought maybe we could talk on the other side of the door?"

Originally he'd intended to explain things in front of Shiro and Keith, but with both of them being overly concerned about him, he didn't want them interrupting

"Sure. I don't see why not. Keith and I will wait here for you"

"Thanks, Shiro"

Leaning into him, Keith softly whispered

"I thought we were going to talk in a group"

"I know... but... I really want to do this right. I'll be on the other side of the door, just there. Ok?"

"I don't know..."

"Babe. If something happens, you are literally two ticks away. Let me do this for myself"

"Alright..."

Kissing Keith's cheek, his husband released him. Walking forward, Lance used his hand to open the door, grateful that his biometrics could be read through the glove.

Following him outside, Curtis leaned back against the outpost wall, while Lance wrapped his arms around himself in a self hug of support. Now they were alone, he needed a moment to figure out his words

"Lance, what did you want to talk about?"

Nearly flinching, once again Curtis had done nothing wrong

"I want to explain why Shiro came to pick me up"

"Oh, is that all? He already explained it"

"I know he did. But I wanted to talk to you myself about it..."

"You don't need to"

"I do!"

Yelling at Curtis, Curtis raised an eyebrow

"Sorry. Sorry. Dios. I'm so bad at this. Last movement when I was on Altea, I had a major appointment scheduled. I don't know if Shiro explained to you, or you know what I went through, but this appointment was really important to me. Keith was supposed to be there for it, and I ended up having a full blown panic attack because he wasn't... I... something bad happened to me, and it's left me not able to trust a lot of people, even people I see as friends..."

"Shiro explained that you were tortured..."

That was pretty much common knowledge despite how he wished it wasn't

"Yeah... I have... I have permanent brain damage from it. Not everyone knows and I don't like talking about it. But Shiro... he's so stupidly "Space Dad" like. I hated him... for a while there I really hated him. His clone Kuron..."

Shaking his head, he didn't want to go there even if his mouth did

"Basically I was hurt and hating everyone. Keith came along and forced so much love down my throat that it still scares me. He encouraged me to try and open up... and to trust. Shiro was... well, he's in that circle of trust. And I feel really bad that he had to come to help me. I wasn't in a good mental space. It was like being in a panic attack days... I um... I also get seizures, especially when I'm stressing. You're the first person outside of this circle that I wanted to tell because I know how much you love Shiro and Shiro adores you. Hunk told me about that article, so I wanted to explain what really happened that day. Shiro found me in the bushes at the hospital. He helped calm me down from my appointment. That attack was so bad I couldn't walk without help... I guess what I really wanted to say was that there's nothing going on there. I panicked and didn't know who else to call when I couldn't get through to Keith. Shiro stayed in my room while he was here because I... I sometimes hurt myself during an attack... and... I just don't want to hurt Shiro or ruin his happiness. He's so in love with you, and he's done so much for me... and for Keith..."

Wiping his eyes, he hoped Curtis didn't think he was aiming for a sympathy vote. He was simply so nervous that his body defaulted to tears

"And he deserves to be happy. I wanted to explain things to you myself, because I felt you deserved to understand. It's not easy being on the outside... it really kind of quiznakking sucks. I want Shiro to be able to talk to you and not feel he has to hide everything... I haven't told my friends about my seizures... I don't want any kind of pity. I don't want them to feel they have to babysit me... I'm sorry... Keith says I ramble"

Curtis took a few ticks before pinching the bridge of his nose in a very Shiro manner

"Shiro did explain things. But I appreciate how hard it had to have been for you to approach me. And I thank you for doing it face to face. Can I ask you something?"

Slowly Lance nodded, not sure where this was going

"Are you getting help for this?"

Brushing off the slightly insulted feeling, Lance nodded again

"I have a counsellor I talk to regularly and I'm going to be moving to Daibazaal with Keith until my health improves. Everything is really complicated and it just got even more complicated. I haven't melted down that bad since... in a long while and I only panicked more when I couldn't calm down. I didn't even know about the article until Hunk told me. I don't follow news from that side of the universe. Shiro really loves you. He talked about how good you are too him, and how you work through his PTS... That's why I wanted to tell you everything myself without him or Keith interrupting and doing that thing where they assure it's ok, and don't let you talk properly"

"Shiro's "space dad" role?"

Curtis gave him a smile, loosening the tendrils of dread around his stomach

"Yeah... He's worse than my own dad half the time"

"He cares a lot for all of you"

"I know he does. That's part of what made it so hard to let him back in. I want him to... I guess I want him to be there as a friend, but at the same time, I want him to be selfish and to pursue the things he loves, and wants, like a future with him. We all lost so much... so I never want to get in the way of his happiness"

"I wasn't impressed that he dropped everything the way he did, but I'm glad he could be here for you. I knew nothing would have happened between the two of you, but with how evasive he was..."

Curtis trailed off, so Lance finished his sentence for him

"It really fucking sucked?"

"Yeah. That"

"I might... not be able to let you in... to trust you. But I don't want to disclude you either. I want to try and be friends. So I really need to apologise if I fuck things up before hand, because I don't realise sometimes that I have... I really hope this is making more sense to you than it sounds like it's making me to me"

"You're a good guy Lance. Not everyone would admit things like this for the sake of their friend. I hope we can be good friends too, not just for Shiro's sake"

"I'd like that"

Feeling somewhat self conscious and annoyed at himself, Lance nodded again

"Good. That's good... and can I ask you not tell anyone about my seizures being caused by brain damage"

"I won't, but can I ask why? They're not something you can control"

"I know they're not... I just... I know they care, yet when people know they start acting like I'm not me. I can't stand them watching me, like they're waiting for something to go wrong"

"I don't think they'll judge you, or treat you any differently"

"But they do. I had a seizure last night in front of everyone. Pidge was hysterical, so was Hunk from what Keith told me in the bathroom this morning. Plus, they've already made a fuss over it this morning. It makes it hard to focus on everything else"

"I still think it's in your best interests to tell everyone, or at least those you're close to"

"If you mean Veronica, she scares me. She scared everyone. That's why I wanted to talk to you away from her, or I'd never hear the end of it"

Curtis gave a sigh

"She certainly is headstrong"

"I know... Anyway, we should head back in before Keith and Shiro worry any further. All your meals and stuff here are on the house, just let the staff know I said as much. I don't know how long you guys want to be on land"

With its size the Atlas had to currently orbiting the planet, as there was no way it'd fit in the parking area without walking up to the outpost being one hell of a trek. It was the only logical conclusion Lance could make.

"We intend to leave once you've had time to talk to your staff. Shiro explained that the decision was reached last night, so I'm assuming you'll need time to pack"

"You don't mind?"

"No. If something happens, we have wormhole capabilities"

"This is true. Right now I'd give my right arm for a generator. It's a movement long flight to Erathus, or a movement and a bit flight to Daibazaal"

"I expected it'd be much longer"

"The Telula, my ship, is pretty fast for her class size. A smaller ship would probably take about two movements either way, maybe longer if it was something small like a pod"

"You seem to know your ships"

Shrugging, Lance dropped his self hug

"You get to learn a thing or two out here or you'd never survive"

"I suppose not..."

Letting the conversation run dry, Lance let them back into the outposts. Shiro was leaning against one side of the hallway with Keith leaning against the other

"Lance. How'd it go?"

Rolling his eyes at his husband, Keith didn't need to say his name

"I think it went good... Curtis?"

Curtis laughed softly, before smiling at Shiro. Shiro reaching out his hand, with Curtis moving to take it it in his

"Lance was telling me how you came to his rescue. He's a good guy. We talked about some things, and he's given us permission to talk about his seizures and what you've been helping him through with his panic attacks"

Glancing past his boyfriend, Lance shook his head as Shiro silently asked if he knew about the pregnancy. The poor man probably would have... actually, no. He didn't know how Curtis would react. He might have tried to take the first step with Curtis, but that was as far as he could go right now

"I am sorry that I left like that"

"I know you are. Lance wanted to make sure that I wasn't mad at you, is misunderstood anything. It seems like you've helped him through a lot"

"He has. He's done so much for both of us"

Kissing his hairline, Lance wasn't sure why Keith had agreed with Curtis when he was clearly talking to Shiro

"You're both family to me. As your "Space Dad", I'm putting my foot down and we're all going to have breakfast now that is out of the way. Lance, you need to keep eating"

Stupid "Space Dad" mode had been activated. When Shiro married Curtis, would that make both of them "Space Dad"? Or did he need to find a name for Curtis? "Space Dad" kind of felt like a special name between them all. He didn't know Curtis well enough to give him a nickname. Maybe he could think of something during breakfast?

"I know I do. I was going to, but you know what it's like"

"I do. Now it's time to eat, then time to pack"

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sincerelybluevase · 6 years

Text

Fanfic Friday: Breathless, Chapter 9

Thanks to @purple-roses-words-and-love for betaing.

The days started to lengthen again. Spring became a promise rather than a dream, as did their child.

Patrick loved little more than to sit with his wife on the sofa, tucking her under his arm, using his free hand to caress her belly. Shelagh needed his warmth, his presence. She was strong, but the incessant gossip and stares had left her raw and hurting. She’d taken to shopping somewhere far from the East End, where people didn’t know her. For the rest of the time, she mostly kept inside. She’d clean and clean and clean in an effort to keep her hands busy. If she wasn’t cooking or scrubbing or washing, she was sewing clothes for the baby.

Timothy played the piano for her. “The baby likes it,” he’d said when Patrick had asked him about it. Then, with deep lines between his eyebrows: “It won’t always be like this, will it?”

“Like what, son?”

“People won’t always talk badly about us, will they? They won’t always shun Mum and refuse to come to tea when she asks them, right?”

Patrick had clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Do you remember when Mummy died? We thought we’d be sad forever then, didn’t we? And that wasn’t true. We’ll pull through. We always do. Till then, we must try to help each other in any way we can.”

Timothy had hugged him, then, all angle and limb.

We can still decide to leave Poplar if things don’t work out, Patrick had thought. Shelagh had flirted with the idea after her disastrous conversation with Sister Julienne, but had ultimately rejected it. Still: they could go to a place where no one knew them, were patients didn’t make bawdy jokes or snide comments or only allowed him to treat them with great reluctance. They were not all like that, of course, but the ones who were had started to grate on his nerves. He had thought all this would leave him oddly exposed and vulnerable; instead, it seemed to make his skin hard, like a shell, like armour. He didn’t like being hard very much.

It was more difficult with the nurses, and with the nuns especially. They’d reached some kind of frosty cease-fire for the sake of their patients, but there was none of the friendly chit-chat from before. Nurse Miller gave him a shy smile every now and again, and Nurse Franklin still made him tea, but they were subdued and never lingered longer than necessary. Nurse Brown was still recovering from her C-section, which meant that there was little time for idle chitchat, anyway. It was for the best, he supposed; he didn’t want them to strain their relationship with the nuns for his sake.

These were things he could not say to Shelagh, not after she’d confessed how afraid she was he’d come to regret their marriage because of the blemish it caused on his reputation. He loved her fiercely.

But I had hoped…

For what, exactly?

For Shelagh and her former religious sisters to reconcile. She needs them, and I think they need her, too.

Sister Monica Joan had been more confused lately, taking his sleeve when he visited and asking him where he had taken her sweet sister. “I miss her voice so,” she’d say, close to tears.

Sister Evangelina just huffed at whatever he said, and took petty revenge on him by giving him mouldy cake and stone-cold tea whenever she had to offer him something. Her attitude hadn’t surprised Patrick; there being stale cake in Nonnatus with a prowling Sister Monica Joan had.

Sister Julienne looked pale and drawn, not like herself at all.

When he had to attend Mrs. Renley during a long and difficult labour, she had been as focused as she always was. However, when the poor woman had lost so much blood that the sheets were stained more red than white, and the ambulance had come to take her to hospital, Sister Julienne had seemed to flounder and falter.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t meant to go like this!” Sister Julienne had exclaimed. She’d buried her face in her hands.

Patrick had offered her his handkerchief. She’d glared at it, but had taken it and wiped her eyes with it anyway. Shelagh had embroidered a rose on it, and a little cross. “To keep you safe,” she’d said as she’d tucked it in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. Do forgive an old silly woman,” Sister Julienne had said.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

She’d looked at him strangely, then. “Thank you,” she’d said in a broken whisper, clutching his handkerchief with one hand and her wooden pendant in the other.

Come and have tea with us, he’d wanted to say. Come and speak with Shelagh. She misses you, and I think you miss her, too. But she’d taken her bike and pedalled away from him, his handkerchief still clutched in her hand.

Maybe I was wrong, he thought, lighting a cigarette. Maybe I made the wrong diagnosis; maybe this is a wound that will never heal.

But there was so much love between Sister Julienne and his Shelagh… Pride was probably in the way, or the fear of getting hurt, or Nonnatus’ reputation, or a mixture of all three.

He sighed, and ground the cigarette out on the brick wall. He looked at his watch. If he hurried, he could go to the surgery and change into a fresh pair of trousers, a pair that didn’t smell like amniotic fluid and blood, before going on his afternoon rounds. He’d just delivered Mrs. Hope’s baby boy, and both mother and child were doing well.

Sister Evangelina hadn’t been as curt with him today as before, either. Ever since his marriage with Shelagh, she’d acted as if his presence in the delivery room was a personal affront. Today, she’d been cold but professional.

Patrick lit another cigarette. His fingertips were slightly yellow with nicotine.

“You should eat rather than smoke,” Sister Evangelina said.

Patrick almost dropped his cigarette. He brought it to his mouth and inhaled deeply. “You did very well, Sister. I wasn’t actually needed,” he said.

She snorted, then leaned against the wall next to him.

I feel as if I have to ask her if she wants a puff from my cigarette. This thought was indecent and hilarious enough to make him smile.

“What’s so funny?” Sister Evangelina snapped, taking out a wrapped sandwich. She tore a big chunk out of it with her teeth.

“Just thinking about Shelagh,” Patrick said.

“How’s the little wife? Is everything going well with the…?” She patted her belly.

“Yes,” Patrick said, doing his best not to sound surprised. “Yes, she’s doing all right, as is Baby.”

“She’s over eight months now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you tell her she will always get a midwife from Nonnatus when she goes into labour. She should call for us.” Sister Evangelina’s eyes glittered something fierce as she spoke.

“She might not feel comfortable with that. We’ve already decided that I’ll be there, since I…” Patrick started.

“Poppycock and balderdash,” Sister Evangelina snorted. She turned her face towards him, pointing her finger at his chest. “You’re her husband, not her doctor, and husbands don’t belong in the delivery room. What she needs is a woman she can trust.”

Patrick dropped his cigarette. He stepped on it with his heel, pressing it flat against the pavement. “I’d ask Sister Julienne, but they are not exactly on good terms now. It seems that Shelagh is not on good terms with anyone at Nonnatus currently,” he said, unable to keep a faint accusatory tone from lacing his voice.

“I never thought her to be the type of girl to get her head turned by a man, and I certainly didn’t expect this,” Sister Evangelina said, touching her belly again, “but we all love Shelagh dearly, Doctor Turner. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“I don’t doubt it. I just wonder if it’ll be enough,” he confessed. Love alone had not been enough to keep Marianne with him…

“Of course it is enough. Love is all there is,” she scoffed.

“There doesn’t seem to be much love between Shelagh and Sister Julienne right now,” Patrick said.

“Where in the name of the Lord did you ever get an idea like that?” she said, eyebrows travelling very high up her forehead. “They’re acting like this because they love each other to bits. Shelagh is just a stubborn Scot, and Sister Julienne is just as bad.”

“I think they’re both afraid of getting hurt,” Patrick said, shoving his hands in his pockets. The wind was still damnably cold.

“Of course they are. Only the ones we love can hurt us. Surely you must’ve figured that out by now, Doctor,” she said.

“I must get on, or I’ll be late for my rounds,” Patrick said. He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Sister. This conversation means a lot to me.”

She snorted, and wiped her hands on her habit. “Just take care of your wife. She’s far too precious to hurt. And I don’t mean in the way you took care of her before. I do know how to count, you know.”

Patrick coloured crimson.

“Yes, well…”

“She was too young, far too young. Allowing such a pretty young thing to become a nun was waiting for a disaster to happen,” Sister Evangelina muttered, shaking her head. She walked to her bike, got on with a grunt, and pedalled away.

Miracles never cease, Patrick thought. He rubbed his eyes, then got into his car and drove to the surgery. He had a fresh set of clothes there in case the ones he wore got soiled. His mind was on his trousers when he walked in. His secretary brutally snapped him out of it.

“Doctor Turner, your wife called,” she said, drumming an unsteady tattoo on her desk with a pen.

“She called?” Patrick said, heart speeding up.

“She said she went into labour,” she said. She looked like a little girl as she twisted her wedding ring on her finger. Patrick was sure her parents would never have consented to her staying on had she not already been married.

Into labour… but Shelagh is not nine months yet. His palms turned sweaty. A nervous energy coiled in his stomach and sizzled through his muscles. “She can’t be,” he said.

“Well, she seemed very sure of it when she called,” the woman fretted.

“When did she call?”

“At nine. She said she’d tried to call before, but there was no answer. I wasn’t here yet then…”

He’d been gone early, and had left her sleeping soundly. Or so he thought. He looked at his watch again. Almost two.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. He carded a hand through his hair. “Cancel my appointments. I must go home.”

“But..”

“Please make sure there’s a locum covering for me. I’d like to take care of it myself, but…” He shrugged helplessly, his hand curling around his bag till his knuckles were whiter than porcelain.

“I understand,” his secretary said, giving him a small nod. “Go to your wife. She sounded like she needs you.”

Patrick turned around and ran.

I can’t believe I left her, he thought. His shirt stuck to his back. His hands and feet had become like sacks of snow, his bones little twigs. The car shuddered to life. “Come on,” he urged it. It groaned, then purred like a cat.

She must be so scared, even with all her midwifery experience. And she’s alone, and has been alone for hours already. You could’ve been with her sooner if you hadn’t dawdled and smoked those cigarettes!

He ran up the front steps, almost hurling himself against his front door. His hands were shaking so badly he scratched the lock. It took him three tries to open it.

“Shelagh?!” He thundered up the stairs as he called for her. “Shelagh, please answer me!” If she was hurt, if she was in pain…

It was not Shelagh who answered.

It was Sister Julienne.

#fanfic friday #call the midwife #call the midwife fanfiction #turnadette

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iridulcentdays · 7 years

Note

🔃 I'm a big fan of your fanfics, just never said anything, sorry. Despite not being a big fan of romance, I actually enjoy your RusAme fanfics. Probably bc they have great plots and character development. Anyway, I'll write LOOOONG reviews for most of your stories because you definitely deserve them. I don't have an AO3 or Tumblr account, so you'll just have to settle for anon here. Thanks!

Oh thank you anon! I love comments in any form! Even tiny notes in the tags (although, I do absolutely adore long reviews the most tbh)

Have a ficlet! (The rest below the cut b/c it gets a little graphic - T warning)

There was blood in the water. Alfred could smell it, even from under the musky depths of earth he was buried in. The memory of it–hot and thick and metallic– trickled down his throat like phantom claws and he could feel the black beast inside him awaken.

There was a reason he had holed himself.

Alfred’s fingers twitched, disturbing the soil weighing him down. Muffled sounds came from above and the smell of blood grew thicker. Intoxicating and undeniable. He clawed the damp soil and sand aside, exhuming himself from the earthen tomb he had built for himself. Alfred felt his finger crest into cool air, and pushed the soil aside and away from his mouth and eyes and stared into the dark canopy of the elm tree he had buried himself under a century ago.

A scream startled the birds above him. Alfred pulled himself from the ground, clawing out of the halo of gnarled roots and to the dark water just down the small embankment. There was a flash of lights, the sound of voices, and Alfred watched blue shadows of men prowl on the edge of the lake across from him.

“Please,” some one begged, their voice rough from pain. No doubt the screamer. There was a heavy thud of something hitting flesh and the voice cried out again, bubbling into something Alfred no longer recognized. Alfred tongued his fangs, extended from smelling the blood. His mouth watered.

He reached down to the lake, pooling the water into his hand and brought it to his lips. Even diluted as it was, it was rich and tempting. The bloody water cascaded down his throat and face, dripping to the ground as he drank and the water gurgled in his empty stomach. And it hurt. He stayed kneeling down, still hidden by the dark leaves and heavy branches and watched the bleeding victim being held down by three others. No one had seen him. They continued on with their torture and the man screamed.

Alfred dusted off his long black suit coat and walked away from his tomb. Every limb was tense, humming with energy and the need to feed. He watched one of the men hold down their victim under the water, laughing and Alfred smiled as well.

The feeling of the night air against his skin was almost euphoric, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of his fingers ripping into the soft throat tissue and fangs sinking in, distending to their full length. The hot coppery finally slid into his mouth, coating his tongue and filling his belly like hot spiced wine. Men screamed, cursing into the air and taking the name of the Lord into vain. Alfred turned his gaze to them, watching them back up slowly from shock. The victim below him, lying by his feet and crawling onto the shore coughed and vomited water. Alfred took another mouthful of blood, then pulled the man away– letting his teeth rip through more flesh and cartilage and bump into bone painfully– and then dropped the dying and twitching man to the ground. One of the men tried to run. Alfred lunged after him, pulling him to the grown and backwards, twisting the spine as he did so. The man was dead.

Ah, damn. He hated when he miscalculated. It had been a while. He’d only meant to paralyze.

Alfred turned his gaze to the last man. The man stared back. The man went to turn and run, but he was already upon him, like a fox snapping back a rabbit.

The force of their tumble broke the man’s arm and jarred Alfred’s jaw. He rubbed it as the man cried out and begged for mercy. Alfred ignored him and held him down, pinning him as he opened his neck with his fangs and drank deeply. Alfred dragged his fangs further down when the man tried to get out of his grasp, grabbing onto his broken arm and letting his own pain immobilize him so he could shift his weight and fully immobilize him.

Minutes dragged on. The man’s fights and pleas and crying quieted as he finally died. Alfred stopped drinking when he heard the man’s heart go quiet. It was no good to drink the blood of the dead, no matter how recent.

Alfred let the blood drip from his face as he walked over to his last meal. The man was trying to crawl away, clearly in agony. Alfred glanced up the moon and stars, and then grabbed the man by his shirt, turning him over and looming over him.

The man glared at him even though he was clearly frightened. The moonlight made his eyes look deep and purple and kissed silver into his hair. His nose was broken, bleeding, and Alfred’s stomach growled with insatiable hunger. “You’re going to die,” Alfred said. It wasn’t any use fighting. The wounds he had were clear. He’d been stabbed and kicked and burned with cigarettes on his chest and nearly drowned. Clearly, he had pissed someone off.

“Go to hell,” The man spat.

“You’re Russian,” Alfred said in surprise, grip loosening a little.

The man nodded hesitantly. Watching with constantly shifting eyes.

“I’ll make it painless then,” Alfred compromised. It was as much as he could do for Anton. Not that Anton could do anything. He was dead, after all. The bastard. Alfred leaned down to go to his throat, but the man reared his hand, slapping him hard.

“What–“ Alfred reeled back, staring at the brazen and dying man below him.

“Do not–“ the man gritted. Blood seeped onto his lips. He coughed. “–Do not,” he warned with an icy furor.

Alfred glared down at him and then grabbed his hand, trying not to hurt him more than necessary, and ended up straddling him, pressing chest to chest as he held both hands with one of his own. His fangs were nearly grazing his pale throat when the man said, “Do not let me die. Not yet.”

Alfred reared back his head just enough to look him in the eye. “Why?”

“I must still get my revenge.” The man stared at him evenly. Challengingly.

“We all die with unfinished business,” Alfred apologized. “Unfinished dreams, lost love, et cetera, et cetera.”

“They killed my sister.”

“You’re making this longer than it needs to be.”

“They killed my lover,” the man gritted out.

“And the Germans killed mine,” Alfred said, but he sat up as he looked down at the man. He was different all right. He was staring death in the face and didn’t care. “What’s your point?”

“Turn me into one of you,” the man said quietly. Alfred gazed at him for a long minute. The birds were still silent, but the crickets chirped rhythmically in the distance. A cloud passed over the moon and tossed them into near blackness.

“Why?”

“They–“

Alfred licked one of his fangs, “please be more creative.”

The man fell silent. He stared up at Alfred with those unusual eyes. Alfred could feel the bones of his hand shift as he flexed his fingers. Blood rattled in his throat as he breathed. He didn’t have long.

“Because I want to be a monster. Crueler that those that were cruel to me.”

Alfred tapped his fingers against the man’s chest. “What’s your name?”

“Ivan. Ivan Braginsky.”

“Well Ivan,” Alfred said “I’m sorry.” And pierced his neck with his fangs. Alfred sucked against the wound, listening to Ivan’s baritone bodily where he was pressed against him. Hot and thick and so delicious. Alfred pulled back and took his free hand to wipe away the matted and muddy hair from his face. He was handsome. And brave, clearly. And perhaps reminded Alfred a little of Anton.

Ivan twitched under him as he delved his tongue into the wound, lathing the skin around it with his tongue. This was a bad idea.

Alfred sat up, “Well Ivan, this is going to hurt.” And Alfred dragged his claw like nail down his tongue, cutting the sensitive muscle and letting blood well before kissing him.

The blood from his meals left his lips slippery and hot when he pressed into Ivan’s mouth, holding his head in place as he instinctively tried to thrash away. Their noses crashed as Ivan tried to turn his head again, and Alfred continued to kiss him, dominating him until he felt Ivan swallow.

Alfred pulled away, still holding Ivan’s face still and raised a brow. “Just remember, this is less painful than walking into sunlight, alright?”

Ivan’s brows furrowed, clearly about to ask what he was talking about, but his eyes clenched shut and his face contorted in pain. Alfred kissed him again, cutting off a violent scream.

“You asked,” Alfred said and let him go.

#rusame #amerus #tw: violence #tw: blood #vampire au #prompt fill #iridulcentwritings #So Anton was Alfred's BF who knew he was a vampire and probs helped feeding #and then the Great War happens so they go over to fight #little harder for Al but he's there to help #and Anton gets hit with Mustard Gas #which doesn't affect Al and he brings him back to the medic but it's too late #so Al gets them back home #and Anton dies a few years later from complications from the gas #and Al wants to turn Anton #but guess what #homie got silver and drank that shit #So Al can't turn his lover and can't even hold him as he dies b/c of silver and basically gave up on everything after funeral where he held #vigil for a week #and then BC my boy is so EXTRA #just goes and buries himself in the earth to never interact with man again #until Ivan comes #eyyyyyy

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azulalavellan · 6 years

Text

The Sole Survivor Chapter 1

A sort of (?) cannon retelling of Inquisitor Trevelyan, but with a retconned backstory.

Parings: Cullen x Trevelyan

Warnings: major character death, violence, panic attacks, nightmares, referenced passed abuse

cross-posted to:http://archiveofourown.org/works/12084891/chapters/27388584

Aasha woke with her face against the hard earth. Running her hands along the rocky, moist surface she could smell a sweet, moldy, almost rotten scent wafting around her in a gentle but chill breeze. Leveraging herself up she opened her eyes to look around. Through her stinging eyes she saw a twilight world shrouded in the green swirling mist, with floating black precipices and cliffs, crowned with a foreboding yet distant, dark city. The sounds of alien creatures and monsters came to her ears causing a panicked knot to form in her stomach. She pressed it down and ignored its presence, not allowing the fear to cloud her mind. She let a lifetime of training and experience take over. She knew she needed to find a rise, get the lay of the land around her and figure out just where she is. Water and food as well as something for a shelter and fire would be good but there seemed to be a distinct lack of wood here. Turning to look behind her she saw a woman on top of a rise gesturing to her. Thinking just maybe she would know were in Thedas she is, she began walking in that direction. She absentmindedly checked the loose, lazy bun she had her red hair in as thoughts began to take over her mind. The main one was how she got here when last she remembered she was making her way through Ferelden to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Her plan had been to give herself to the Chantry as a sister as atonement. The division in her family had been a result of the circumstances of her birth and therefor her fault. Those circumstances had caused several deaths over her life, including that of her brother just a month prior. So, she fled from Ostwick during the winter riots and made a pilgrimage to the Temple. After her arrival in the middle of the Conclave, everything is either a blur or nothing. Just a black pit of forgetfulness.

Coming to the base of the rise, Aasha paused. The woman above her was gesturing frantically but a sound nearby had caught Aasha’s attention. It was a few moments before she realized that the sound she heard was the skittering of spider’s feet, large ones. With a quick glance behind her at the approaching shadows, Aasha ran up the stair. As she climbed her muscles screamed, but the growing fear caused by the approaching spiders pushed her forward. With another frantic glance back at well over twenty massive spiders, their green eyes glowing a their ugly heads, and their fang like mandibles snapping with audible clack-clack sounds, Aasha reached out just barely touching the glowing green woman’s outstretched hand. Everything went black.

The darkness faded to a shadowy room and she stood in the corner. A tall, redhaired man in templar robes, with bastard sword sheathed on his back, approached her. The feral grin on his face sent a deadly chill down Aasha’s spine. She barely registered that she drew a dagger.

“Jowen Why?” She called to the man in front of her, whose feral grin only deepened as he drew his sword.

“Please, Jowen. You’re my brother!” She said frantically as she raised her left hand to block his swing. His sword fell on her open palm with intense pain and a flash that caused her eyes to fling open.

Another green sparkle and pain brought her eyes down to her left hand, shackled in her lap. As she opened her hand she saw the Mark, a green jagged scar filled with magic sitting squarely in her palm. She realized that the image of her brother had been a dream but as she looked around at the four men with drawn blades surrounding her and the dungeon she was in, she wondered if death at her brother’s hands might have been better. The four guards had her in the middle of the room, her hands bound at the wrist in a solid shackle rather than a chain one. She had no way to pick the lock covertly, and fighting all four of them bound as she was would be disastrous. Despite all her training, all her skills, there was no way she was getting out of this. If she tried the guards would slay her before she could even raise from her kneeling position. And so, she resigned herself to face whatever fate had in store for her. She probably deserved it anyway.

The door in front of her banged open causing her to jump. A knight in the Seekers of Truth heraldry and a hooded woman in mail sewn into pale purple robes entered. Aasha knew what was about to happened and started formulating responses as the seeker circled her. They will probably blame her for some murder or theft, or maybe the chaos of Ostwick had finally caught up with her. Or something happened related to her mark, after all, she had no idea how she even got here in the first place.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The seeker finally asked. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead, except you.”

So that’s what this is about and they think she did it, apparently. She had to find out more. If she survived she wanted to personally punish whoever caused so much death and framed her for it. But she had to survive first. Her mind raced.

“Explain this.” The seeker said venomously as she grabbed Aasha’s left hand, causing pain to shoot up to her elbow. The pain helped her focus. Her close friend and mentor Seral, a former Ben-Hassrath operative who had the rank of Tallis and later Hissrad, had not only trained her on the method of recalling memories called a mind-palace but also trained her to use it to maintain fictions and false identities and to protect one’s true identity even in the face of magical interrogation. Aasha let the fear she had held back affect her external features while she went into a meditative state in her mind.

“I c-can’t.” She stuttered out, realizing that they knew as much as she now did about the Mark.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I don’t know what it is, or how it got there.”

“You’re lying!” The seeker exclaimed as she grabbed Aasha violently and placed a hand on the hilt of a dagger with intent to draw. Aasha let more fear show on her face while at the same time silently chastising this knight for not asking more questions but jumping strait to violence. The other woman gabbed the Seeker’s shoulder and drew her back.

“We need her, Cassandra.” She stated.

“I don’t understand.” Aasha said slowly as she fell back to the floor, an attempted to get more information out of the two, albeit a halfhearted one.

“Do you remember what happened?” the hooded woman asked as she turned to the prisoner. “How this began?”

“I remember…” Aasha choose her words carefully while making herself sound like she was having trouble recalling. “Running. Things were chasing me. And a woman.”

“A woman?” The one in purple asked, scrutinizing Aasha. What appeared to be curiosity flashed briefly across her face before going deadpan once again.

“She reached out to me, but then darkness.” Aasha said in answer.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” Cassandra said, “I will take her to the rift.”

As the purple clad women left, Cassandra knelt in front of Aasha and began to remove her shackles. Aasha grinned inwardly, the cuffs she was attaching would be easy to pick when fate offered her a chance to escape. Regardless this seeker’s skills, it would be too easy to take her blade, incapacitate her, then disappear. She shoved that to the back of her mind and focused on getting information. She needed to know what exactly happened. She wanted to examine the Temple, the bodies, to find out who or what killed them, and maybe find clues that would lead her to the true perpetrators. Not to clear her name, she didn’t care about that, but to exact revenge for the fallen.

“What did happen?” she asked.

“It will be easier to show you.” Cassandra replied.

The knight led her out of the dungeon, through the Chantry and into the small town of Haven. As they exited the doors the glairing light blinded Aasha. Through her raised hands she saw it; the mass of magic, poisonous mist, and rock raised up hundreds of meters into the atmosphere with a green tint that matched that of her Mark. It seemed to be raising from the location of the Temple.

“We call it the Breach, a massive rift to the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” Cassandra said. “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Aasha asked, the wonder she felt at the revelation bled through her façade.

“This one did. Unless we act the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Just as Cassandra finished a giant bolt of green lightning pulsed from the Breach’s center and shot into the mountains at its base. As the accompanying roar reached Haven, Aasha’s mark flared up and cracked loudly. The pain forced Aasha to her knees, oblivious of the angry stares from the surrounding townsfolk.

“Each time the Breach expands your Mark spreads,” Cassandra said, kneeling in front of her. “And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“You say it may be the key, to doing what?”

“Closing the Breach, whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance however. And yours.“

Aasha nodded in acknowledgement, coming to the decision that whatever happens it was her duty to help as much as she can.

“Then…” Cassandra looked questioningly at Aasha.

“Whatever it takes, I will do it.” The rogue said with complete honesty to someone she had just met. Something at had happened rarely in the last 12 years.

Cassandra regarded Aasha with a look of genuine approval before pulling her up and leading her through Haven. As they walked to the gate, the townsfolk came to stare at them, at her, the woman they held responsible for the explosion. It was clear that if left up to them, she would die.

“The people have decided your guilt.” Cassandra pointed out. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia.”

“The Divine is dead?” Aasha asked, shocked.

“Yes, the Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars, she brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.”

“And you think I had something to do with that?” Aasha asked.

“Right now, you are our only suspect. And this is the only way to prove your innocence,” Cassandra replied. “We lash out at like the sky but we must think as she did. Until the Breach is sealed. There will be a trial. I can promise no more.”

Aasha shrugged a response. At the gate just outside of Haven, to her surprise, Cassandra fully removed the shackles. Aasha could run if she wanted to. But she didn’t.

“Come, it is not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Aasha asked.

“Your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” Cassandra replied. “Open the gate. We are heading into the valley.”

She followed the knight up the path as wounded men walked back to Haven. Around them green balls of lightning and black fade-matter fell like meteors. Halfway to a checkpoint the Breach flared and expanded again, resulting in Aasha dropping to her knees once more.

“The pulses are coming faster now.” Cassandra observed as she helped Aasha back to her feet. “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, and the more demons we face.”

“How did I survive the blast?” Aasha asked.

“They said you stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you.”

Aasha realized that the part of her dream where she was chased to a woman on a hill must have really happened. She must have been physically in the fade. She felt the color drain from her face. As the women crossed a bridge before the next checkpoint, a meteor of fade-matter struck, collapsing the bridge and sending them onto the surface of the frozen stream below. The pools of fade-material hissed and oozed as a demon called a shade, ugly with long, clawed hands and grey cracked skin that melded into its robes, materialized out of a jet of fade material.

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra shouted as she drew her sword and shield and charged the snarling demon.

Suddenly the pool of puss directly between Aasha and Cassandra hissed and bubbled as another demon began to materialize. Quickly glancing at the ruble Aasha spotted a short sword, longer then a dagger but shorter than the average that soldiers carried. Picking it up and swinging it around her to test its weight, Aasha crouched in a ready position as the demon appeared, wishing she had her dual blades for this. The shade lunged at her with what would be a devastating blow from its clawed hands. Aasha side-stepped and donkey kicked the demons back as it stumbled passed. They turned to face each other and the shade swung again, this time Aasha blocked with her unarmed left and severed the demon’s arm at its elbow using the blade in her right. Swinging back, she drove the point of her blade into the demon’s skull. Yanking it out, she twirled it and turned, suddenly coming face to face with Cassandra.

“It’s over.” Aasha observed.

“Drop your weapon! Now!” Cassandra ordered, rising her blade to the rogue. Aasha thought for a minute about starting a fight with the seeker, and Cassandra must have seen a threatening light in the rogue’s eyes as she took a more defensive posture.

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Aasha said, attempting to end the standoff.

“No,” Cassandra sighed. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless. I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

Aasha shrugged and they moved on up the path. Passing a few dead bodies, Aasha shivered at the loss of life, though she did stoop to switch her short sword for a pair of daggers. They may not have been her very high-quality snake hilted meteoric steel daggers she stashed before arriving at the Conclave, but these would do just fine for now. She hefted them, testing their weight before sheathing them. Moving forward the women fell into a rhythm, Cassandra being a distraction while Aasha struck from the shadows. They quickly dispatched a pair of wraiths and shades before arriving at the next checkpoint.

“We are getting close to the rift” Cassandra stated. “You can hear the fighting!”

“Who’s fighting?”

“You’ll see soon, enough. We must help them.”

They dropped behind the dwarf archer. Aasha vanished into the shadows as Cassandra rushed forward. as the demons focused on the warriors Aasha materialized behind them, lunging onto her target. As she buried her blades into its back, Cassandra stabbed its torso, where its heart would be had it been human. The dwarf archer killed his opponent with a close range, un-aimed shot from his mechanical on-of-a-kind crossbow, then watched as mage grabbed Aasha’s right hand a thrust it toward the rift. Aasha’s hand crackled and lit with exploding magic, a burst of energy connected the Mark and the rift, having the appearance of lightning. Then suddenly with a loud bang and a sound like shattering, falling glass, the rift snapped shut, leaving a sickly black-green puss like residue on the ground where it used to be. Aasha gazed at the mage in wonder.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing. the credit is yours.” He said as she looked at her hand.

“At least this is good for something”

The elf then explained his theory on the Mark, and that it might be able to close the breach as well.

“Good to know, here I thought we be ass deep in demons forever.” Said the dwarf as he walked over. “Verric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He said with a wink to Cassandra. Aasha saw the look of disgust on the Seeker out of the corner of her eye.

“Pleased to meet you Verric”

“You may reconsider that stance, in time.” The elf said from off to her right.

“Ah, I’m sure we will become great friends in the Valley, Chuckles”

“Absolutely not!” growled Cassandra. “You help is appreciated but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Verric cut in. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me” the dwarf said with a mischievous smirk.

Cassandra let out an exasperated grunt and stormed off. This rogue might be good to have around, Aasha thought, especially if he gets under Cassandras skin that bad. She would have had a little chuckle to herself too had not Solas, the elven apostate mage introduced himself just then. She felt genuinely grateful to him for keeping her alive, as well as telling Casandra he doesn’t think her responsible for the Breach, even though she felt that she still deserved some sort of punishment for her involvement, if not with the Breach then her past, either way. They continued their trek to the forward camp to meet Leliana.

Original Trevelyan created by myself through the DAI character creator and her back story deviates from the Bioware cannon, cause who needs cannon?

Threw in more then a few OC's :P

Setting and non-OC characters are the property of Bioware.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #cullen rutherford #cassandra pentaghast #josephine montilyet #leliana #inquisitor trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #Iron Bull #myfic #RavenHerald #SoleSurvivor

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roraewrites · 7 years

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sasusaku week, day one: favorite canon moment - chp. 56/forest of death

happy ssweek everyone! i hope you enjoy c: (written from sakura’s POV)

I could hardly feel my body, as my heart beats against the cage that my ribs created.

The way she held onto my hair tore at my scalp, an intense burn rising in my skin as she pulls harder. The amount of force that she bestowed upon my body, and although I was scared shitless, I couldn't give up. The way my kunai soared through each strand of hair, releasing my body from hers felt great. Something snapped from within, and it told me to fight.

I feel lighter now, as my hair hardly reaches my shoulders, but my body is beaten to a pulp and bleeding. I hurt everywhere, and I'm so scared, but I need to protect them both. I won't give up.

Lee came to help me, but he's hurt and they're going to come after me again, but I'll stand to my feet and fight again. I will fight until I die, because if that's what length I need to go to to protect to two of them, then I'll do it; because that's what this forest is called, The Forest of Death. I'll poise my kunai, hold it out in front of me and protect Sasuke and Naruto.

I've fought hard, and even though Team Six came to my rescue, I will never forget the way they entered the fight.

Ino, who was always fearless and strong looked scared to death.

And Shikamaru, the lazy genius who Ino probably persuaded to come help.

Then there was Choji, who looked the least bit of interested in helping. Without Team Six, I would've died, but I would've died fighting to save my own team.

Everything was spiraling out of control, the way Ino used her Mind Transfer technique, and Shikamaru with his Shadow Possession Jutsu.

My fingers were trembling while my body pulsed with pain. I could feel my chakra depleting from my fight with the Sound shinobi. As much as I want to look at this as a rescue, I look at this like a tag team. I'll get my revenge once these three get tired, but until then, I'll concentrate on restoring my chakra and continue my fight.

A low breeze catches hold of falling leaves, and while I can hardly blink my right eye due to the swollen skin, I catch sight of something eerie.

The purple glow is something out of this world, but as I see all the worried facial expressions, I manage to turn my own body and meet the sight of Sasuke's restored body.

"Sasuke-kun," I whimper from my spot in the dirt.

His eyes are glowing with anger, his body painted in ink black markings that cover his left arm, up to his neck, and marking his face. He stands with such authority, that I begin to feel my body tremble with something that's not fear.

Rather, I feel scared for him.

For Sasuke Uchiha.

"Sakura," his response is low, deep and filled with a livid, burning anger. "Who did that to you?"

I can tell from the glimmering look in his Sharingan eyes that he's set on killing. He looks like a wild, raging animal that's been caged for far too long, and now that he's free, he's going to go on a rampage. I can no longer will my body to move, all the fight in me is gone. My breath comes out shaky, but before he moves, I finally say something, anything to tear this fear from my body.

"Sasuke-kun..."

"Who is it?" The snarl rips from his throat, but it's not directed at me. He would never talk that way to me. Instead, his eyes are still set on the nin from the Hidden Sound, his fingers curling slightly, his nails biting into his palms.

I swallow, only to hear the one who I had fought with earlier scoff, and then announce something far more stupid than I have ever heard in my life.

"We did it!"

Everyone is looking to Sasuke still, his chakra dark but laced with so much power. I can't feel my toes as I watch him take a short step forward. He's glowing with something far more evil, something about him totally gone, and it makes me sick to my stomach. My throat feels tight, my heart fast as it beats against my chest.

He speaks, his tone still low and he doesn't sound like the Sasuke Uchiha I know. I can hardly make out every word he's saying as blood rushes to my ears, canceling out every thought I could've thought at that point in time, and it makes me incredibly sick to my stomach.

I finally hear him speak something, words that I swear I've heard before. Maybe in a dream, or he's said it before, but it makes my body go numb.

"I am an avenger."

His skin looks pale against the black marks that paint his skin, the purple bags under his eyes complimenting the ruby shade of his Sharingan. He's glowing still, that eerie purple glow settling finally as he balls his hands into fists and directs his focus on the Sound shinobi who spoke earlier.

"Now," a low growl reverberates from his throat. "It was you guys, right?"

My body is suddenly exhausted, my mind racing as I look to Ino, my ex best friend who's still in possession of Kin's body. I faintly hear Shikamaru yelling to her, warning her to evade and go back to her own body, and by then, I see a fierce look overtake Sasuke's features. His teeth are showing like a pissed off dog, baring them in such an animal-like behavior but I am too stuck in my trembling body to do anything yet.

I'm afraid for Sasuke.

Zaku, the Sound nin is too stupid to realize that this isn't Sasuke Uchiha. This is a shell, possessing a power far greater than everyone else's and nobody but me, realizes that nothing good can come of this. It's got to be that mark, the mark that Orochimaru put on him.

He's always wanted power, Sasuke has. I can't stand to see him like this, because I can see that this isn't him. The purple glowing was nothing more than darkness, a shrouding curtain, clouding his mind and causing him to see nothing but anger and hatred.

The attack comes fast, fierce and powerful, but it doesn't phase Sasuke. Everyone ducks for cover, including myself. Dust flies in every which direction, sand entering my eyes and cuts, causing everything to suddenly sting and pulse, but it feels good. I can feel my body again, and if I try hard enough, I can still save him.

But Sasuke is no longer standing where he was before. He's now in front of Zaku, his hand flying into his chest and knocking him back to the trees. He doesn't even look at him, his stunning eyes set to the ground like his body can move on its own.

I watch in a paralyzed state once more, my fingers digging into the dirt and grass while my eyes still burn from the sand. Sasuke is moving with such an intense speed that my mind can't keep up. He's using the Uchiha's famous fire jutsu, his Fire Flower, aiming directing for Zaku. My heart clenches, dirt digging beneath my fingernails. I can't even scream, I can't release my mind from this terror.

Sasuke is too fast for his own good, his attacks more worthy than the Sound nin's. Everyone watches in horror, their eyes revealing just how terrified they are at this point in time. They're scared for their own lives, not for Sasuke who's single-handedly taking on a shinobi with much more experience than his own.

Zaku can't defend, he can't even counter attack, because unlike Sasuke, he lacks speed at this point in time. He's already been captured, Sasuke's foot in the center of his back, while the Uchiha has his arms pulled straight behind him.

I can hardly feel my heart beating anymore. I feel nauseous, like I need to puke, but I can't pull my eyes away from him. The scene that's about to unfold is something you see in a horror film, but I can't cover my eyes or look away. Sasuke has Zaku held in such a terrible position, that I feel my throat go dry.

I'm stuck; I see nothing but Sasuke, only it's not him.

"So you're proud of these two arms?" Sasuke laughs, yet it's low pitched and mocking.

His eyes narrow, still shimmering in the faint light of day as he begins to pull on them. I can see the way his muscles move from beneath those painted markings, using every bit of his strength to easily destroy Zaku's limbs.

I feel it now, my throat burning as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I want to scream, yell, tell him to stop it, but it's too late.

Zaku is already on the ground, screaming and wailing in pain as I watch Sasuke smile. My entire body is shaking now, and I'm scared that I've lost him. All I wanted to do was protect both him and Naruto, but now that I see him like this, I know that I've failed.

I've failed him as a teammate, and I've failed him as a friend.

His eyes immediately seek out the remaining shinobi, ruby eyes burning with a malicious fire as he finds his prey.

"You're the only one left," he scoffs with a tone an octave lower than his last statement. "I hope you let me have more fun."

I can feel my heart finally shatter, my composure break as my fingers curl. My finger nails bite the skin of my palms, giving me reason to feel once more. The pain hurts, but it makes me feel like I can do something more than just sit here and watch him continue his rampage.

I need to fight. I need to help him.

My head hurts as my teeth clench tightly together, but it feels better than being numb. The tears feel hot against my dirty skin as they finally fall, free from their cell as I continue to tell myself that this isn't Sasuke. I feel my muscles begin to grow with strength, like my body is being rejuvenated.

My fists are as tight as they can get as I watch him walk slowly towards the last Sound nin. I can no longer think, only feel my toes and feet as they dig into the dirt and grass below my body. I'm out of breath, the wind knocked from my soul as I sprint towards Sasuke, towards his demonic shell and wrap my arms around him.

His body is absolutely warm, his shirt encased in his scent as I wrap my arms around him and a single word ripping from my throat.

"STOP!" I scream.

It echoes through the forest, everyone watching with wide eyes, but the only person I can think about is Sasuke. I'm stuck in such a trance, yet it's only the two of us. I honestly feel like I could vomit, my stomach is in tight knots, my arms shaking as my fingers intertwine with one another. His breathing is fast, but it's slowing down and I can feel him tense up from beneath my arms.

His skin is hot, scalding like boiling water, but it feels so good to hold him here in my arms. My head rests between his shoulder blades, against the Uchiha crest on his back, and I can only let my tears soak into the red and white fabric.

"Please," I whimper, "stop."

He does as I say, and he stops. The marks stop transcending over his skin, and they begin to recede. Slowly at first, but eventually, it's his usual shade of skin and no longer bares those incredibly dark marks.

I feel exhausted, but my body doesn't give up. I remain behind him, holding him in place until I feel his chakra level diminish, and then it's like it's over. Everything comes to a stop and he feels familiar to me again.

As his weight comes crashing back against me, I fall to the forest floor with him, holding him in my arms as we come to the ground. He's heavy, but once we reach the ground, I feel the weight on my shoulders diminish and feeling returns to my body.

I'm still scared, but I don't feel the pain that resided there earlier.

Sasuke is back for now, and I never want to see him that way again. Before I can speak a word to him, the single shinobi is speaking words, but I cannot hear. I'm too focused on Sasuke, focused on his wounds and focused on his state of mind.

He's pushed his body away from mine, but I can see in his obsidian eyes that he, too, is scared. It was apparent that we were connected somehow, and it wasn’t only I who felt it, but Sasuke did too.

#sasusakuweek #ssweekday1 #ronan rae #sasusaku #ss fanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno

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pandoraborn · 3 years

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Cruelty of the Beast - Part 17

( previous. )

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Characters: c!Tommy, c!Quackity, c!Ranboo Word count: 1593 words Content: major character death, heavy angst, forgiveness, revenge, hurt no comfort, dark!fic, grief, alliumduo, dissociation,

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There’s a stillness that settles over the area. An eerie sort of calm within Tommy’s very bones, as if he knows something’s wrong. The sounds of screams from everyone in the SMP are lessened.

Less people.

It’s hard for Tommy to breathe. He doesn’t know how many people are left, if any. The dragon is still rampaging above him, casting shades of purple and black over the ground, the buildings, and over people. It’s as if the very air is poisonous, because it’s hurting for Tommy to breathe. He had expected things to be chaotic, but he hadn’t considered how terrifying it would be.

“Tommy!”

A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He’d forgotten he’s pressed against his old dirt house, with a crossbow held tightly in his hands. Turning his head toward the voice, Tommy’s staring straight at Quackity.

Quackity is red faced and gripping an axe. He doesn’t look angry though. Tommy would expect him to be pissed. Part of him wants Quackity to stab him.

No, he can’t think like this. Pushing away from his house, Tommy moves closer, feeling as though he’s swimming through honey. He can’t tell what the expression on his face is. Is Tommy smiling? Grimacing? Nothing makes sense anymore; he’s too lost in his own hazy dream, as if he’ll just wake up later and none of this will have happened.

“Tommy, what the fuck?” Quackity’s voice is sharp. Too sharp in contrast to the haze surrounding them. There is a fog, purple magic that destroys everything. Glancing upward, Tommy licks his lips.

“I don’t know, big man,” Tommy says. His tone is far too casual. Everything around them is beautiful. It shouldn’t be, not with his old friends lying dead around him. Forcing eye contact with Quackity is far easier than it should be. “I got tired, I guess.”

“You got tired?” Quackity laughs in disbelief. “We could have helped you! You didn’t have to run off with Wilbur and Dream!”

Tommy shrugs. “I didn’t have to do a lot of things.” Fingers absently toy with the crossbow. Part of him is concerned about prematurely setting it off, but that thought is rapidly pushed aside. “But I did.”

“What happened?” Quackity asks. “What happened to you? Did dying fucking change you? Did Dream possess you? Or are you even Tommy?”

“No, it’s me.” Tommy considers dropping the weapon. It’s not too late to walk away, to pretend nothing matters anymore. He lived through isolation once, he’d do it again, on his terms. It wouldn’t be so bad. There’d be no one this time to take his things, or manipulate him, or twist him around in knots.

There’d be the dragon, and the world reset, but he could probably live through that, somehow. Tommy feels as though he’s going to be sick.

“So if it’s you, then what happened? Because the Tommy I used to know would never have fucking unleashed a dragon on everyone!” Quackity sounds desperate. As though he’s trying so hard to understand the motives now. “People are dead, Tommy, do you understand that? They’re not coming back to life!”

He knows. He knew this, of course he did. Back at the cabin, it had all been so clear. Tommy had known exactly what he’d wanted, he could envision it perfectly in his mind. It had also been him angry over being shot by the very man standing before him right now.

Anger flares up, and he tries to push it back down. “I died,” Tommy retorts. “I died alone in prison, with Dream. I almost died alone in exile, or even back in Pogtopia. Alone.”

“We would have been there!”

“But you weren’t!” Tommy yells. Quackity stumbles back in surprise. Regret doesn’t flare up inside Tommy, only anger. Everything comes rushing back, washing over him like a tidal wave and threatening to drown him. “No one was fucking there Quackity! I’m so tired of handling everything alone. I’m tired of people treating me like I’m stupid, like I’m some evil bastard who hasn’t done anything good! It wears on you, alright?”

“You should have talked to us!” There are tears in Quackity’s eyes. “Tommy I loved you. I still love you, even when everything inside of me is wanting you dead. You betrayed everyone because of a few hurt feelings? This is so beneath you.”

“A few hurt feelings?” The anger is coming back. “I was singled out and used and hurt and betrayed by literally everyone on this god forsaken server. I was given a role I wanted nothing to do with and I died for it. I died for a lot of shit.”

“But-”

“I shouldn’t have to talk to anyone, because you all had every god damned opportunity to see that I wasn’t okay!” Tommy grips the crossbow and lifts. “It says a whole fucking lot when my biggest tormentor made amends, and my so-called friends are still blaming me for shit I never had control over.”

“Tommy, there is a dragon killing everyone. What about Tubbo?”

“What about Tubbo?” Tommy asks. “Tubbo had Ranboo and he had all of you. I had Dream, and Wilbur.”

“This is really what you want?” Quackity asks, voice barely above a whisper. Somehow, even with the eruption still going on around them, Tommy can understand him clearly. “To kill everyone...for what, revenge? Wilbur convinced you that this was the only way?”

Everything is becoming clear again. The inevitable end, the race to undo all the damage everyone had caused. Damage he caused. It’s right there within his grasp, he just has to take the plunge and undo it all. Before he can move, Tommy hears his name in the distance. Sparing a brief glance, he sees Ranboo running toward him. Half of Ranboo’s left arm looks like it’s melting, and the enderman’s eyes are glowing purple.

This isn’t a good sign.

“Of course it’s the only way,” Tommy says, looking back at his old friend. Emotion leaves him. Thinking, feeling, is only going to hinder him. Leveling the crossbow, Tommy aims at Quackity’s heart. “I’m not doing this for revenge, I’m doing it because I care. And an eye for an eye.”

“If this is what you want, I won’t stop you. But you’re going to have to live with this for the rest of your life.” Quackity steps closer, letting the tip of the arrow press against his heart. He even reaches out to stroke Tommy’s cheek.

The teen doesn’t stop him. The touch is soothing, but it doesn’t have any of the familiar comfort that Tommy wants. Quackity isn’t Wilbur, after all.

“Tommy I just... I just want you to know that for whatever it’s worth, I did try. We did try. I’m sorry we couldn’t help you, just know we were your real friends all along.” He sounds so fucking genuine. For a brief second, Tommy reconsiders.

Ranboo’s close enough to grab at Tommy. Ranboo’s embrace is far more familiar to Tommy, far more enticing and comforting. Real friends, Quackity had said. Ranboo is real, and he loves Tommy. Tommy loves Ranboo.

Tommy lets his brain shut off.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Tommy hears himself say. He’s watching himself release the arrow, watching as it pierces Quackity. It’s like watching television. It’s not a very interesting show.

Somehow, between the way Ranboo looks, and the way the dragon seems to be drawn to the enderman, Tommy believes the words he’s saying. He believes in the finality of this battle. Ranboo seems proud of him. Tommy wants to fall into his arms. Arm.

Quackity crumbles to the ground, stray tears dropping from his cheeks to the wooden path underneath him. His eyes are closed, at least. Dropping the weapon on the body, Tommy nudges him with his foot in a final farewell.

“Tommy, they want us to meet them in the crater,” Ranboo says. His voice seems to echo, though Tommy can’t figure out why. Reality is ballooning back to him, stretching and squeezing him all at once. Not enough for him to keel over with emotion, not yet. “They found my book.”

“Book?” Tommy shoots him a quizzical expression. He pretends he’s not crying and mourning Quackity’s death. “What book?” Ranboo is already pulling Tommy along. He’s holding Tommy’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Tommy flicks at his nose and clears his throat.

“Magic book,” Ranboo explains hastily. “Our window of time is running out, we have minutes at most before this all falls apart.”

Tommy can read between the lines. They’ll have killed all their friends for nothing. Nodding, he lets himself start running. He had first believed, for Wilbur’s sake. For Ranboo’s sake.

Sparing one last glance over his shoulder, Tommy fights back the nausea. He still can’t afford to let himself succumb to his emotions, but he still feels the grief and sadness.

He has to believe in this for himself, too. Because he knows what losing your final life feels like. Tommy still feels that cold void all too well, and it’s not a fate he wants anyone to feel for longer than they have to.

He starts running, with Ranboo keeping up with him at ease. Mere minutes before they lose the dragon and the magic it brings. Mere minutes before the guilt completely eats him alive.

Though, Quackity was right. Even with the magic and everything succeeding, Tommy will never forget the way Quackity had loved him up until death, even when Tommy gave him every reason not to.

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