#he's speaking in jeopardy answers ( crack. )

[caelcstis]

wowwwww

#don't look up his nose when he's on top of you raph- #discord discourse. #he’s speaking in jeopardy answers ⸢ crack ⸥

[blcssed]

THE ENRICHMENT SHAFT

                 ‘ i now have a new name for my penis. ’

#he's speaking in jeopardy answers ( crack. ) #roland ( threads. ) #that's it #that's the thread #suggestive.

[kc-the-writer]

🧭 ♻️ 🤔 for the ask game please Mrs.

😍Mrs! 😍 thanks for waiting forever for me to answer these, I’ve enjoyed being Pendleton-Free for the week

An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

The quote is:

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so

That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone forever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She’s dead as earth.

Men of Stone is really really trying to pull me away from Dead as Earth

A scrapped idea for your current WIP

Oliver and I are not on speaking terms. He wants his slutty Lake Como adventures to be more detailed than what I’ve been willing to write. His smut isn’t scrapped… yet.

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Awoman is recovering from a car accident: on the outside, her politician husband is supportive and working hard to crack down on the drunk driving problem. She begins to suspect her perfect marriage is in jeopardy when she finds lingerie that’s not hers in their home, her pillow smells like perfume she wanted but never splurged on. The bright red lipstick on her husband’s neck is a dead giveaway.

He’s cheating, right? Worse. She’s unaware that she’s developed a personality split after the accident. Tired of his picture perfect wife, he’s obsessed with the vixen she doesn’t know she often becomes.

[ddarker-dreams]

Wait please I beg of you what else has phinks done in cannon in an attempt to win over HWR reader??? How else does the inner simping come out????? More general phinks cringe????? How does Hwr reader not notice 🥲

cracks knuckles .

anon, you are most brave to ask . i cannot tell you how eager i am to go way into detail about the nuances of HWR reader's relationship with each member of the phantom troupe.

within the main story, there are a few instances where we see phinks trying his best (with mixed success) ft my director’s commentary. 

You dismiss the possibility. “The only threat she poses is her company.”

Shalnark laughs while Phinks shoots you an incredulous look.

“Did you somehow manage to get drunk while I wasn’t paying attention?” He asks, motioning to the unopened can of beer in your lap that Uvogin insisted you should take. “Or did I just hear you make a joke?”

“No, it was your imagination,” you deadpan, Phinks giving the possibility some consideration. It’d make more logical sense that way. The first time you met him, you had referred to him as Mr. Phinks, to which he almost had gone into a state of shock. It’s not uncommon for either Shalnark or Feitan to call him that when they’re trying to get a rise out of him. Speaking formally with the Troupe was a mistake you quickly learned to correct.

here we have phinks doing some light flirting. looking back on this snippet, i realize HWR reader’s response comes off as flirty?? to any onlooker, at least. you just know chrollo is pouting in the corner. basically, i wanted this to be an instance where you see HWR reader’s developing camaraderie with the other members, despite having a somewhat rigid and professional air about her. 

Shizuku walks over next, placing a hand on her chin and humming. “What was [First]’s arm wrestling rank again?”

“Eighth, I think,” Phinks recalls. “She beat Nobunaga even though he’s an Enhancer.”

Nobunaga shoots Phinks a dirty look, who simply snickers at his reaction.

phinks is the first person to immediately recall HWR reader’s arm wrestling rank . it’s a small detail that i personally found endearing. the man answered faster than people playing jeopardy. 

“Alright! Who wants to marry [First]?”

Phinks chokes on his beer and starts coughing violently, Chrollo’s eyes widen in a way you’ve never seen before, Shizuku tilts her head, Shalnark stops typing away on his phone and freezes, Franklin drops the drinks he just entered the room with.

this is another personal favorite of mine. i actually love this entire scene. there’s not much to say here other than phinks was probably hoping he’d be involved in this plan somehow. 

Phinks slides his hands into his pockets. “Your hair… it’s down.”

Ah, that’s right. In the mayhem of the morning, from not being able to find an important undergarment to hailing a cab to return to your estate, you neglected to put your hair up as it usually would be. The fact you sliced your ribbon in half the night prior didn’t help. Sensing Phinks’ staring, you take a loose lock in between your fingers and examine it. Should you need to fight, this’ll be a hindrance. That’s why you keep it up and out of your face in the first place.

“I’ll see if Machi has a spare hair tie.”

“Oh,” he almost sounds disappointed and you haven’t the slightest clue why. “That’s not why I… it looks nice. Good, I mean. You should wear it like that more often.”

What a friendly guy Phinks is, offering you encouragement like that while expecting nothing in return. Maybe you’ll write him a thank you card later.

“Thank you, I’ll consider your proposition.”

and here it is. the saddest moment for phinks (god rest his soul). this is by far his most blatant attempt at wooing HWR reader, who is about as dense as anything when it comes to emotional intelligence. he gets an A for effort though. again, another favorite scene of mine ...

i kinda thought it’d be a fun gag to make everyone in the troupe somewhat aware of HWR reader’s relationship with chrollo, with phinks never being able to completely catch on. it’s more of one of those unspoken but universally understood type of things. no one feels the urge to keep him in the loop though. basically, he has this big puppy crush and is doing his best. it’s surprisingly wholesome the more i think about it? he doesn’t push his boundaries and is one of the first people HWR reader befriends after she’s kicked out of her home country. their bond grows stronger as the years pass on. 

by the time the yorknew arc occurs, it’s likely HWR reader pairs up the most with phinks and machi when it comes to jobs. those are her go to picks. 

#anyone: asks a question about HWR #me: writes an entire essay in response #phinks x reader #hell within reach #answered #Anonymous

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hope i’m not too late, but congratulations on getting 500 followers! i adore everything you’ve written so far, keep up the good work!

can i request an exes au with geto x f!reader? not too angsty, but whether they get back together or not is up to you 👀

You said "not too angsty" but my mind said "HIT EM RIGHT IN THE FEELS" and I don't know wHyYyYyY

Please forgive me, but this... this is the epitome of my "ex of Geto" feelings. It literally flowed out of me in two hours.

"Yes, But...": Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 2k

tw: FLUFF AND A LIL' BIT OF ANGST

The large envelope slides from his hands to yours, and you look at the package in confusion as you open the flap.

“You want to get out of here and start fresh,” Geto begins, lacing his fingers together. You find a phone, two banking cards, and two passports inside, which is more than what you asked for. “You’ll need that.” When you open the phone, you see various apps loaded on the device - most of which are foreign to you. “Open the banking app.”

You do as your ex tells you, and see the collection of numbers (six digits) and the single comma that will change your life. You look up at the man in awe, trying to catch his black gaze as he looks outside, not speaking.

“Su, I just needed a new passport, not all of this.”

“It should put you in a good place for a few months until you get a good job. I have a friend in the States that should be able to put you up in a nice house, all paid for, of course. There’s a private school nearby so you don’t have to drive Haru there and back, just walk. And there are--”

“Suguru,” you stop him mid-sentence, placing your hand on the table to try and reach him. “We don’t need all of this. My parents are willing to--”

“I’m not sending you back to them, y/n. I want you to be independent of anyone else,” he retorts, nostrils flaring at the mention of your family. You know his frustration with your relatives comes from an honest place.

They had treated you savagely after you married into the Geto family, calling you all kinds of names and not even attending the birth of their first grandson. You weren’t sure if it was the ties to the underground that set them off or the fact that the Geto family had brought in a considerable amount of wealth and fame to your lives. Either way, you were cut off from them until you divorced Suguru due to--

“Our flight leaves at ten o’clock tomorrow,” you whisper, and Suguru shifts in his seat, sighing. “Will you come to see Haru before we go?” There’s a long pause as your ex-husband weighs his options, but you know his choice before he speaks.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he finally answers.

_____________________________________________________________

Tickets in hand, you try to keep your composure as you watch your son hold on to his father for the last time. Your other hand is captured in Suguru’s large palm, and he squeezes your fingers tenderly as you walk to the security checkpoint. While you walk, he talks to your son in gentle tones, telling him to write to him about all of the amazing things he sees and does, as well as the friends he makes, and how daddy still loves him no matter where he goes.

When he finally lets Haru down and places his Inosuke backpack around his shoulders, you turn to Geto, expecting him to say something final, something meaningful. But he doesn’t, opting to pull you into a deep embrace and kissing all over your face. “Please stay safe. Call when you make it in.”

“I will,” you whisper, inhaling the scent of his cologne and reliving your life together in a brief flash. “I promise.”

“I love you, y/n.” You want to reply that you love him, too, that the separation wasn’t his fault - but you just nod. The feeling of tiny arms around your legs makes you look down, and you both see Haru wrapping himself around your legs, holding you two together earnestly. When he lets go, Suguru lets go, and you hoist the toddler into your arms.

“Say ‘see you later,” you tell the child and he slowly waves his hand at Suguru as you walk past the agent at the checkpoint. Haru doesn’t stop waving until he can no longer see Geto, and he also waves until he can no longer see you, finally dropping his hand to his side and wondering why he felt so empty.

_____________________________________________________________

“Today we learned about the rainbow,” Haru sings as he skips with you down the sidewalk.

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh, holding his hand as he swings back and forth.

“And we played in the dirt.” That explains the messy pants, you muse, rounding the corner to the back of your home and unlocking the fence before letting Haru run up the back porch and inside the house.

You lock the fence behind you and follow your son inside, thinking of all the things you had to do before his sixth birthday party the next day. Suguru said he would be sending a surprise - you begged him not to send the fake nichirin sword you already purchased and stowed away - so you’d have to accommodate for whatever he sent your way, which was bound to be lavish.

Among other things that he provided (a house, a car, preschool, an on-call babysitter if you wanted to go out, a nain rug you looked at once and said you liked but you weren’t sure about), Suguru also spoke to Haru every evening, which made you feel at ease. He hadn’t ceased to be in Haru’s life after you divorced, so this wasn’t out of the blue. Co-parenting with him was still easy and somewhat effortless, even thousands of miles away.

You’re still lost in thought when the doorbell rings, and Haru leaps down the stairs to answer it, despite telling him not to do that time and time again. Quickly, you sidestep the boy and open the door, forgetting to check the peephole first. If you had, it might have prevented the massive shock both you and Haru have at the sight of Suguru standing in the entryway.

“Suguru…” you whisper, and Haru immediately goes to hug his father, squeezing him tightly.

“Oh, look at you,” Suguru groans, leaning down to pick up his son. “You’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you, huh?”

“I’m two inches taller!” You shake your head at the toddler’s estimation, smiling, but still in shock. Your eyes roam over the man’s appearance. He looks just as you left him, with long hair and that gaze that could see into the deepest parts of your soul. It’s been a year, but nothing’s changed at all.

“Come on in,” you urge him, and he carries Haru inside, setting him down in the foyer. Haru dashes up the stairs to retrieve something, and you walk into the kitchen, Geto following you around and looking over his surroundings.

“It looks beautiful in here,” he murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“You should see upstairs,” you reply. “That’s your son’s domain.” Suguru chuckles, then places his hands on the counter behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise both of you,” he shrugs and you sigh.

“There’s no guest bedroom.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he replies, and your first instinct is to balk at his suggestion and offer your bed. But you know Suguru’s considered his options already and would have gotten a hotel if he wanted to.

“Are your things--”

“In the car. I wanted to see if I was welcome first before I barged in with my stuff.” Haru reappears, holding up his drawing from school today.

“I drew this today! They told us to draw something we love,” your child smiles widely, showing his lack of a right front tooth. You peer over at the picture and see you - with a questionable hairstyle - Haru, and Geto holding hands in front of what you assume to be your house, and a grey… horse? cat? dog? off to the side. “And we have a cat. I named him Gojo after daddy’s friend.”

_____________________________________________________________

You hand Geto a pile of blankets and a pillow, hoping it would be enough to keep him warm on the couch. “You can turn the heat up downstairs if you need to,” you advise, and he nods, taking the offerings. He pauses in your bedroom, wanting to say something.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, then walks away, leaving you in the room to contemplate your still brooding feelings for the man who walked into your home less than six hours ago.

“Wait,” you call out softly, and he returns, searching your face. “Did you get me that job at the museum?” you wonder, crossing your arms over your chest. “The head of the museum told me I came highly recommended for the Director of Curation position.”

“And if I did?” he wonders, angling his head to the left a little and frowning. You recognize his tell immediately and nod, biting the inside of your lip. “I promised to provide for you and Haru for as long as I’m alive. I’m not going to break that promise.”

Those words stay with you as you toss and turn in the bed hours later, trying to sleep. You’re failing miserably, you realize when you look at the clock, and you rise out of bed, padding downstairs to get some tea and calm down. You tiptoe past the hallway to the living room, hoping you wouldn’t wake Suguru as you heat up a cup of water.

You’ve almost succeeded in your mission when you hear a yawn and the familiar cracking of toes and ankles as Suguru walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you explain and he nods, pulling a chamomile tea packet from the caddy by the cabinets. He rips open the packet and hands it to you, leaning against the counter as you dunk it in the cup and watch the color seep out.

“I still remember,” Suguru whispers, recalling the nights you spent awake while you were pregnant with Haru and how the tea was the only thing that could soothe you enough to sleep. He thumbs over to the living room and you follow, settling into the couch beside him. “Nightmares? Or just insomnia?”

“Insomnia,” you reply, and he motions for you to place your feet in his lap. He begins rubbing them methodically, taking his time on the soles as you lean into the arm of the couch and sigh.

“Remember when we used to watch Jeopardy before bed and you’d fall asleep mid-answer?” he chuckles, and you shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Those were some hard nights,” you reply, and he hums thoughtfully.

“I wonder where it all went wrong.”

You both knew where it went wrong. There was no privacy, no semblance of peace, nowhere you two could go without someone knowing everything and being in your business. And adding Haru to the mix made everything worse. The breaking point came when you were playing with him in the backyard and heard the sound of a shutter capturing your every move. Suguru broke the camera and the man’s arm, but the damage had been done. The only way you could escape the limelight was divorcing him and his name, then escaping somewhere where no one cared who you were or who you used to be. Here, you were just… y/n.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the wife you wanted,” you whisper, and Suguru shakes his head.

“No, you were - are - the wife I want. I didn’t protect you enough. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Don’t,” you urge him, setting the un-sipped tea on the coffee table. “Don’t apologize.”

“Then I won’t,” he replies, pulling you closer. “But I have to confess something.”

“Say it.”

“My family bought property nearby. I’ll be stateside more often than not.” Geto smoothes a hand across your cheek, cupping your chin as you move onto his lap slowly.

“Haru will love that,” you breathe.

“But will you love that?” he wonders, ghosting his lips over yours.

“Yes, but--” He presses his lips to yours tenderly, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, feeling all of your shared love in that one kiss.

“Yes, but...?” he asks, pulling away and raising a brow.

“Was this your plan all along?” Suguru smiles, nipping at your bottom lip. His arm curls around your waist as he pins you beneath him, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“And if it was?”

“It’s definitely working.” Suguru hums in pleasure and continues to kiss you until you're at peace in his arms again, and fast asleep.

#getou suguru #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #getou x reader

[sapphim]

Mine Massacre - Cut Content

Cut content from DA2′s act 3 bone pit questline! The mine massacre quest was originally much longer than it appeared in game.

mine massacre journal entries

Go to the Bone Pit to assess the situation for Hubert. See to the workers who are sheltered in the mines. Return to Hubert in Hightown's market by day. Control of the Bone Pit was handed to the miners to settle a labor dispute. Control of the Bone Pit was wrested from Hubert to settle a labor dispute. The Bone Pit labor dispute ended when Hubert's guards killed the miners. The Bone Pit labor dispute ended when Hubert's guards killed the miners. The high dragon has returned. Kill it! The Bone Pit has been overrun by dragons. Slay them! Hubert was grateful for the dragons being eliminated. The high dragon at the Bone Pit was left to its own devices.

quest start

(Hawke completed act 1 quest The Bone Pit) Hubert: Catastrophe has struck, partner! We are ruined. Ruined! Hawke: [Calm yourself.] Don't panic. Tell me what happened. Hawke: [It figures.] It's always something with this mine. Hawke: [Spit it out.] I've no patience for hysterics. Tell me what's wrong. Hubert: A cart came back from the Bone Pit, half-wrecked, with a dozen mangled bodies! Hubert: The horse pulling the cart was the only survivor, and it does not speak! Hubert: Town full of rotten mages and not one can get answers from a horse? Hawke: [I'll go.] I'll see what's going on. Until then, try to stay calm. Hawke: [What would you do without me?] I'll check it out. You keep interrogating that horse. Hawke: [Enough. I'll deal with it.] If you've nothing relevant to add, I'll get to it. Hubert: I knew I could depend on you. Just like old times, partner!

(Hawke did not complete act 1 quest The Bone Pit) Hubert: Champion! Catastrophe has struck! I am ruined. Ruined! Hawke: [Calm yourself.] Don't panic. Tell me what happened. Hawke: [Do I know you?] Since I became Champion of Kirkwall, everyone wants a piece of me. Hawke: [Spit it out.] I've no patience for hysterics. Tell me what's wrong. Hubert: A cart came back from the Bone Pit, half-wrecked, with a dozen mangled bodies! Hubert: My mining operation could be in grave jeopardy, and no one can tell me what is going on! Hubert: I implore you, Champion! Go to the Bone Pit and set things straight! Hawke: [Isn't the Bone Pit cursed?] I've heard the place is riddled with misfortune. Why would you have a mining operation there? Hubert: I thought the rumors were exaggerated. The mine has been good for the city these last few years. Hubert: It provides hundreds of jobs for your own countrymen, Fereldan expatriates who would otherwise be on the streets. Hawke: [I'll go.] I'll see what's going on. Until then, try to stay calm. Hawke: [I have nothing better to do.] With the Undercity sewers backed up, I'll take any excuse to get out of town. Hubert: Oh thank you! I knew the Champion of Kirkwall would come to my aid. Hawke: [Maybe later.] I'll get there when I get there. Hubert: Please make time for this, Champion. With each passing moment, wealth is being lost. And lives too!

As released, Hawke goes to the bone pit, fights a high dragon, and returns with bad news for Hubert.

vanilla quest end

Hawke: A dragon attacked your mine. Everyone is dead. Hubert: Dear Maker! What of my equipment? Did it seem salvageable? Hawke: [You selfish bastard.] Unfortunately, your precious equipment didn't make it... and neither did your workers. Hawke: [Priorities first, right?] No. And neither did the workers who died trying to save it. Hawke: [Everything was razed.] The dragons scorched every last cart and shovel. Hubert: Oh, my heart! So many years of investment... I am ruined. Ruined! Hubert: I am sorry, Champion, I appreciate your help, but I sank all my coin into that rotten mine. I have nothing left to pay you. Hawke: [I'll take the mine.] Give me the Bone Pit. Perhaps in a few years I can get it back in order. Hubert: What? (Scoffs.) Fine, take it! I wash my hands of this cursed venture! Hawke: [I didn't do this for money.] I slew the dragon to protect the city. I need no coin from you. Hubert: Up-jumped bloody dog-lord.

In the cut content, however, Hawke finds Hubert’s hired guards outside the mine. Recorded audio for the cut content can be found on youtube.

cut conversation - Cara

Cara: Champion! I didn't think anyone was coming. Hawke: What happened here? Cara: The dragons caught us by surprise, coming down from the mountains. Cara: Robart, my best lieutenant, was watching for them, but... he's missing. Cara: We held back the dragons so the survivors could take shelter in the mines. Now we're clearing a way out of here. Hawke: [Are the miners safe?] You're not leaving without the miners, are you? Hawke: [So you're running away?] Better save yourselves while you can, right? Hawke: [What, are you cowards?] You should be protecting the miners. Why aren't you with them? Cara: It's not like that! We're clearing the way so they can escape before the high dragon returns. Aveline: A high dragon? So near to Kirkwall? Anders: Come now, high dragons are exceedingly rare, and I've already slain one of them. Hawke: A high dragon? Are you sure? Cara: I've read the tales of the Hero of Ferelden. The description matches. (Here the high dragon interrupts the conversation in some way.) Cara: Believe me now? We're running out of time! Cara: Champion, please go to the mines and get the workers on their feet. I'll watch the skies.

Cara: I'll guard this path. Please, see to the survivors.

Cara: Maker be with you, Champion.

Hawke finds the surviving miners in the mines.

cut conversation - Earl & Jansen

Earl: Champion, you're here! Jansen's asking for you. I fear he don't have long. Blue Hawke: Jansen. I'm here to get you to safety. We don't have much time. Purple Hawke: Jansen, my friend. You look a bit worse for the wear. Red Hawke: Jansen... help is here. Hold on.. Anders: He's dying. There is nothing I can do. Aveline: That wound has festered. It's... not good. Isabela: This one's beyond help. Fenris: The wound rots. His death is certain. Varric: That's a nasty wound. Jansen: The... Champion of Kirkwall. I knew you'd come. Earl: He's delirious. Been trying to tell me something, but I can't make it out. Jansen: I thought my life would be more than this... more than mines and dragons and that bastard Hubert. Jansen: But I gave my life to the Bone Pit, like so many others... Hawke: [I'm so sorry.] Forgive me. I would have saved you if I could. Hawke: [You're not dead yet.] Cheer up. While you still draw breath, there's hope. Hawke: [We don't have time for this.] Jansen, I need to get the miners to safety. If you've something say, make it quick. Jansen: I feel the cold creeping up. Not long till it stops my heart. Unlike Hubert, I can't live without one. Jansen: I overheard that bastard, talking to a guard—thought it was nothing till now. But he knew the dragons was coming. Earl: Hubert's a son-of-an-Orlesian-whore, but there's no way he'd leave us to die. Jansen: Listen to me! This mine's cursed—let it burn! Don't let it take another innocent life. Jansen: Please... Earl: No! No, not yet! We can still get out of this... Cara: Messere Hawke! We're too late. The dragon's returned!

Earl: Ah, Jansen. I'll drink a pint for you, my friend. Earl: If Hubert knew those dragons were coming... I'll crack his head open!

Earl: Best of luck. We're all depending on you.

After the high dragon is killed, Hubert appears outside the mine with the guards.

quest end

Earl: You saved us, Champion. When we reach Kirkwall, we'll send help for the wounded. Earl: Hubert! Now you show up? We watched our brothers die, all for your blighted pit! Hubert: How dare you! Without me, you would have starved to death in the gutters of Lowtown. Earl: That's better than filling a monster's belly! Hubert: Imbeciles! How could I predict the dragons would return? You bark like you are the only ones who lost something. Hawke: [Let's calm down.] Throwing accusations around doesn't help anyone. Hawke: [You're welcome, by the way.] In case you hadn't noticed, your dragon's dead. No need to thank me. Hawke: [Shut up, all of you.] Quit your shouting. Hubert: Yes, thank you Champion! I, for one, am both grateful and amazed... Cara: Robart? I thought you were dead. You were watching for dragons. Why didn't you warn us? Robart: Cara, I... I've got new orders now. Cara: Hubert? You knew about the dragons? Hubert: Just calm down and you'll be well compensated. Cara: Do you know how many died? And it's your fault! Keep your blood money. Hawke: [Hubert, please explain.] I assume there's a good reason you didn't tell me about the dragons. Hawke: [What were you thinking?] You knew dragons were coming and you kept it to yourself? Hawke: [You sent me here to die?] Was it your plan that the dragons would kill me? Hubert: Not at all! Hubert: Robart reported dragons in the region, but they could have gone anywhere. I simply wanted to avoid panic. Earl: And get every last hour of work out of us before we were eaten! Earl: To think I didn't believe Jansen. You motherless bastard! I'll rip out your shriveled heart! Hubert: Champion, talk some sense into your countrymen before they get themselves killed. I would rather not have to train new workers.

(Ending 1: Hawke takes the bone mine from Hubert.)

(Ending A) Blue Hawke: [I'm taking over as mine boss.] Coin can be earned again, but the lives lost can never be restored. Blue Hawke: Since they have sacrificed the most, the workers will own and run the mine, under my supervision. Hubert: What? After all I have invested— Blue Hawke: Hubert, you'll be a silent partner until your share's bought out. Hubert: Shit! Fine! I am sick of this pit anyway. I should have sold it years ago! Earl: Imagine that! We'll be owners! Earl: Be a lot of work to get this mine running again. First, we gotta get the injured back on their feet. (Ending B) Purple Hawke: [I'm taking over as mine boss.] As the person with the most impressive title, I'll make the decisions here, thank you. Purple Hawke: I'm taking over the Bone Pit, effective now! Red Hawke: [I'm taking over as mine boss.] You will give the mine over to me. Unless you'd rather pay with your life. Hawke: You men will have a safe environment and steady pay from now on. Hubert: Shit! Fine! I am sick of this pit anyway. I should have sold it years ago! Earl: No more taking orders from that Orlesian bastard! We'll be working for one of our own, now. Earl: Be a lot of work to get this mine running again. First, we gotta get the injured back on their feet.

(Ending 2: Hubert is killed)

Hawke: [The workers are right.] What you've done is indefensible. Stand down or face me. Robart: Sorry, Hubert. You can't pay me enough to cross swords with the Champion of Kirkwall and slayer of dragons. Hubert: No wait! I will double your pay... triple! Hubert: No! We can make a deal! How would you all like to be my partners? Hubert: (Screams.) Earl: I guess the Bone Pit's yours now. What are your plans? (Ending A) Hawke: [How'd you like to be partners?] The miners know how to run this place. I'll make you all co-owners. Earl: Imagine that! We'll be owners! Earl: Be a lot of work to get this mine running again. First, we gotta get the injured back on their feet. (Ending B) Hawke: [I'll be your new boss.] If you'll continue working the mines, I promise to treat you better than Hubert did. Earl: No more taking orders from that Orlesian bastard! We'll be working for one of our own, now. Earl: Be a lot of work to get this mine running again. First, we gotta get the injured back on their feet. (Ending C) Hawke: [I'm through with this place.] You and your fellows can have this blighted pit. I never want to come back here again. Earl: Aye, this place is cursed. Let's just walk away and never look back.

(Ending 3: the miners are killed)

Hawke: [It's your mess. Deal with it.] Hubert, I'll leave you to your problem. Hubert: What a bloody mess. Hubert: Thank you for dealing with the dragons. As promised, you are the majority owner of the Bone Pit now. Hubert: I will go draw up the paperwork. Men, leave the corpses to the crows.

assorted comments

Remarks from your party members during the quest:

Fenris: Most dragons kill for food or territory. These bodies were not devoured, so they must see this place as their own. Anders: They never stood a chance. Aveline: This was pure slaughter. Merrill: So many dead... Varric: I wonder if anyone could have prevented this. 

Anders: So many injured... We'll never be able to get them all out in time. Aveline: So few survivors... and we'll lose more if we try to move them. Fenris: This cave stinks of death. These people won't leave here alive. Varric: Even were we all healers, it would be impossible to help everyone. Merrill: So many injured and dying... 

Anders: Dragons. You never get used to the sight of them... Aveline: Dragons! The legends of this place must be true. They've returned to take what's theirs. Varric: Seems the dragons want their pit back. Merrill: After all these years, dragons have returned to the Bone Pit. Fenris: Dragons. Further proof this place is cursed. Isabela: I always thought dragons were supposed to be rare.

And comments from Hubert after the quest:

Hubert: I, eh, convinced the city guard to... overlook what happened at the Bone Pit. Hubert: I hired someone to post fliers in the refugee camps, so we shall have new workers before long. Hubert: The papers are in order. You will run the Bone Pit in my stead. Hubert: The papers are in order. The miners will run the Bone Pit themselves. Hubert: I never should have gotten involved with that cursed mine.

#cut content #da2 #dragon age 2

[dothwrites]

97, maybe? For the prompts? :)

---

#97--When you smile, I fall apart

---

Dean watches silently as Cas rolls yet another t-shirt before putting it into his suitcase. Neither of them have spoken in what feels like days but has only been several hours. Their silence isn’t angry, nor is it comfortable. Dean doesn’t bother to pretend like he isn’t watching Cas’ every move as he carefully removes every part of himself from their dorm room. 

His posters have already been taken down and rolled carefully. Cas told Dean he could sell them or throw them away, and Dean had nodded like he was agreeing, but Cas’ posters are currently taking up some prime real estate in the back of his closet, where they’ll stay for damn near forever. Cas’ pens, pencils, and other various supplies are carefully hidden in his desk, while his furniture sits, forlorn, on his side of the room. His mattress is stripped bare. The only thing which remains is for Cas to empty his drawers, which is a task becoming shorter with each shirt that disappears into his suitcase. 

With a sensation like feeling his chest rip in half, Dean watches Cas examine each drawer. He closes them with a sense of finality before he turns to his suitcase. Tight lines of tension hold his shoulders in a defensive posture as he zips the case closed. Afterward, he continues facing away from Dean, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. His fingers curl into the stiff fabric of his suitcase, but he doesn’t speak. 

That task falls to Dean. 

“So, I guess this is it, huh?” Dean’s voice is too loud even to his ears, harsh and discordant in the silence of the room. “E.T. goes home.”

“Not particularly,” Cas answers. He keeps his face turned away, giving no indication to his mood. “It’s not home. Not really.” 

“It’s not stopping you from going back.” Dean knows his voice is surly and hurt, but he can’t stop himself. Maybe if he hadn’t held all of this in, Cas wouldn’t be leaving. 

“We’ve talked about this. I have to.” 

Dean clenches his jaw and says nothing. All of his arguments--Your parents never cared about you, what difference does it make whether you go home or not, you shouldn’t throw away your future for people who don’t give a shit about you--have already fallen on deaf ears. 

What tortures him are the unspoken arguments, the ones that have never been spoken aloud except to an empty room. 

Please don’t leave me. 

I love you. 

Dean bites his lower lip to keep those words stoppered within him. He won’t say it, not now. Those words are like blackmail. If he said then, then he’d be no better than Cas’ shitty family, using ties of loyalty and obligation to force him into a decision. If Cas doesn’t decide to stay on his own merits, then Dean doesn’t want it at all. And Cas hasn’t decided to stay. 

Three years, two of them as unlikely roommates, countless all-nighters and drunken binges, several extremely dicey situations, some of which made Dean think that maybe his interest in Castiel wasn’t as unrequited as he originally thought, and it all ends here. On an unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, with Cas’ bags packed and them waiting for the Uber that will take Cas away to the airport and out of Dean’s life. 

“It’s not forever,” Cas finally says. “I’ll be back.” 

“To visit,” Dean says, unwilling to be bought with pretty lies. 

“To stay,” Cas insists. Dean wishes he would turn around. Cas is a difficult guy to read on the best of days, harder when all Dean has to go on is the shift of his shoulders. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” 

The second Cas got the call from his brother, Dean knew it was over. Cas’ father was dying and Cas’ presence was expected. He wouldn’t be able to finish the semester and would be forced to take an incomplete. His scholarships were in jeopardy, his re-admission status in peril. Cas had told him all of this and somehow managed to sound hopeful about this whole thing, but Dean had heard the unspoken truth underneath the words.

It was over. Cas wasn’t coming back.  

“Dean.” 

Dean looks up and meets brilliant blue eyes. Now, as always, he’s taken aback by their hue and the emotion which shines out of them. For all the times he’s accused Cas of being a robot, when you get down to it, Cas doesn’t have a damn poker face. He can keep his expression as stoic as he wants, but those baby blues betray him every single time. Right now, his eyes are welling over with an overabundance of emotion. 

Dean’s breath catches in his throat with a painful hitch. He can’t do this right now. Not when his heart is ripping in two and Cas is standing less than an inch away from him. “Cas,” he says, trying for jovial and failing miserably, “your Uber is gonna be here soon, man.” 

“That’s why I have to do this now.” 

Dean opens his mouth and closes it, like a particularly stupid goldfish. For all of his reticence and silence, Cas has a habit of dropping hard truths right out of the blue, like the time they were in sophomore year and a little bit drunk and Cas grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with all the intensity of a slightly tipsy robot. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Cas had said, his normally rough voice gone subsonic. “We share a profound bond,” he continued, over Dean’s protests. 

So Dean’s a little leery now that Cas is looking at him like he hears the ticking clock and that he realizes this is very much a go big or go home moment. 

“I know that you don’t believe me, but I will be back.” Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Cas steamrollers directly over his objections by cupping Dean’s cheek. His hands are huge against Dean’s face, sturdy and warm. They’re hands Dean could trust, hands Dean wants to catch him every time he stumbles. 

“This isn’t what I want. Dean, I know...” Cas falters, his thumb rubbing at the soft skin underneath Dean’s eye. “I know it’s a shitty time to do it, and I would understand if you tell me to leave and don’t want to talk to me anymore, but I...” 

Dean can’t ever recall a time when Castiel had to grope for words. It’s happened twice in the past thirty seconds. Then Cas looks at him, his eyes like blue steel, and Dean gets ready for some hard truths to be dropped on him like an anvil on Wil. E. Coyote. 

“You are the best person I’ve ever met. Everything about you--your kindness, your humor, your generosity--Dean, you’re my best friend.” 

Dean’s heart sinks at that, but apparently Cas isn’t done dropping anvils. “And it’s stupid to want anything more, but I do, Dean. Dean, I want...” 

Three times now that he’s rendered Cas speechless, but Cas has never been one to lose gracefully. Cas renders him speechless, thoughtless, weightless, and dozens of other ‘lesses’ as he leans forward and presses his lips gently to Dean’s. 

It isn’t until Cas starts to pull away that Dean regains any semblance of rational thought. The thought of Cas leaving him is incomprehensible, unthinkable. Dean curls his fingers in Cas’ shirt and pulls him closer. 

Cas’ lips are just as stupidly chapped and rough as he thought they would be, but he never could have imagined how soft they would feel underneath his. Even in his wildest fantasies, he never could have conjured up the rough, needy sound rumbling up from Cas’ throat as Dean licks across the seam of his lips. Cas opens his mouth and deepens their kiss, his fingers pushing into Dean’s hair as he pulls them closer. 

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispers. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched atop Dean, his forehead pressing into Dean’s. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to pull my head out of my ass. If I’d been thinking correctly, I would have told you how I felt years ago.” He tilts his head to kiss Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s heart cracks. 

“You stupid idiot,” Dean says, before he takes Cas’ lips in an almost brutal kiss. “You could get so much better than me.” 

“Impossible,” Cas tells him. “I could never want anyone else other than you.” He places a soft kiss at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Every time you smile, I fall apart.” 

Dean lunges forward, wrapping Cas in a tight embrace. He wants to pull Cas into him, wants to wrap himself around Cas in such irreparable ways that Cas will never be able to scrub himself clean of Dean’s influence. 

Dean’s arms wrap around Cas’ shoulders, as he grabs at the short hair at the back of Cas’ head. He licks into Cas’ mouth, determined to get to the root of him. He’s just pushing forward, Cas softening to accept him, when Cas’ phone rings. 

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Dean pulls back, staring in muted horror at Castiel’s pocket. 

His phone is ringing. Cas’ Uber is here. 

“Cas,” Dean says helplessly, pulling Cas towards him. Their kiss is messy and desperate, teeth and tongues clashing as their fingers yank and tug. “Cas, don’t go, please don’t go--” 

Cas’ hands frame Dean’s face, forcing Dean to look at him. “I’m coming back,” Cas promises. He grips Dean’s hair almost to the point of pain, but it keeps Dean’s mind from shattering. “Dean, you have to believe me. I’m coming back.” 

He stares at Dean for one long, eternal moment, before he kisses him. Dean melts into Cas, clutching him so tightly that it’s a mystery as to how Cas winds up at the door, but he does. Dean leans towards him, feeling empty and cold. 

Cas turns and looks at him. A dozen expressions cross his face as he allows his eyes to roam over Dean one last time. A thousand words swell in Dean’s chest--Don’t go, come back, don’t forget me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU--

But then the door closes and Cas is gone. 

Dean collapses back on Cas’ bed, its mattress scratchy and uncomfortable without a covering or sheets. He curls into himself, knees pressed to his chest, and settles in to wait. 

---

Three months later, Dean is awoken by the sound of the door creaking. He groans and shoves his face deeper into his pillow. “Benny, if you need your shit, it can wait until tomorrow. For now, I am asleep.” He drags his comforter up over his shoulder to punctuate the statement. 

He thinks that is the end of it. That should be the end of it. Benny, while occasionally wildly inappropriate, will usually fuck off when told to fuck off. However, his hypothesis is shattered when his bed dips at the middle with the weight of someone settling onto his mattress. 

“Benny, what the fuck--” He rolls over, freezing when he sees the silhouette of the person sitting on his bed. 

Benny doesn’t have that particular level of messy bedhead. Or those shoulders, tapering down into strong arms, almost delicate wrists, and elegant fingers. Benny certainly doesn’t have a thousand yard stare that manages to pierce through him even when the lights are off and the only available source of illumination are the faint lights from the sidewalk three floors below. 

Dean chokes on nothing but air and scrambles to sit up. His heart is beating a million miles a minute as it tries to crawl through his chest and out of his mouth. 

“Cas?” he finally chokes, clutching his comforter to his chest like a quivering Victorian heroine. 

A flash of white, a grin in the darkness. A strong warm hand, a hand that Dean can trust to catch him and lead him through the world, rests on his bicep. Dean feels the heat of it through his t-shirt. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel #college!au #roommates #angst #happy ending #of course dean and cas facetime all the time that cas is gone #but cas wants to surprise dean so he doesn't tell him when he's coming back #cas ends up being a year behind which means dean graduates before him #dean gets an apartment while cas is finishing his last year #cas calls dean his sugar daddy #dean is simultaneously offended and aroused

[seraphsurvival]

episode 1: 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜

having completed all their challenges for week one it is time for the angels to face the music. with their votes in and team performances judged their final rankings decide who will continue on to become apart of 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇. will your favourite angel soar high or will they fall from grace ?

* note that indented + italic text like this means it is confessional footage *

the iconic seraph intro music played as the cameras focused on the show hosts nova and yen.

“good evening everyone and welcome to...” nova began before yen joined in “seraph!” they chorused.

“this week was a tough first week for our angels.” yen began before looking over at nova who enthusiastically nodded along . “they had 2 challenges to complete: the iconic angel song and a group performance.”

“having to juggle solo performances and group work proved to be quite difficult for some of our angels. both groups had their share of mishaps...” behind nova clips of the angels in their confessionals in tears or looking stressed covered the screen further proving her statement.

“but despite all of this we saw some amazing performances.” nova grinned as she turned back to all the angels on the platform behind her.

“judges, what do you think of our angels this week? who stood out the most to you?” yen questioned turning all focus to the panel of judges.

“i thought this week was fun, we got to see a different side to the angels usual concepts,” hyuna spoke first , making sunmi and j-hope nod along with her. “i personally really enjoyed ricky’s performance, it was so fun to watch. her expressions made it that much more entertaining.”

the camera focused on ricky as she bowed at the praise. her features stretched out in a bright smile as chloe squeezed her hand beside her happy for her new best friend.

“i think mine was yuri’s performance of ‘GOTTA GO’. she surprised me in a good way. i was not expecting her to stand out the way she did but i’m glad she did. i’m proud of her.” sunmi answered.

on stage yuri visibly blushed as she repeatedly bowed. her soft ‘thank you’ making sunmi smile sweetly.

“hmmm all the angels were truly excelled this week ,” j-hope chuckled , resting his head on his hand. “none of the performances were boring. did some have room for growth in technique terms? of course, but pretty much everyone performed well.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. who was your favourite?” hyuna jokingly pushed making everyone laugh.

“if i had to pick i think my favourite would be summer’s cover of ‘DARE’. her lines were clean and moves sharp. it was great to see her do a much darker concept. you can tell why she is where she is.”

summer nodded happily as a response to j-hope’s comments. she had always been a huge fan of BTS and it took everything within her not to fangirl hearing her idol praise her for her performance.

“what about the groups what did you think?” nova questioned once again.

the judges shared a look with each other before hyuna leaned into her mic, “honestly group one really surprised us this week. im really impressed with their performance of ‘FAKE LOVE’.” the idol leaned forward to be in her fellow judge’s line of sight. “j-hope, was it up to standard?”

“it was definitely up to standard they really destroyed the performance. i feel honoured truly.” he chuckled

the entirety of group one laughed at his comment. each of the angels thanking him in their own regard, their pride evident in their faces the entire time. in juxtaposition the camera pans to team two who’s faces look less than impressed with

“overall, i’d say everyone did great today, yes there is definitely room for improvement but and i don’t think i’d be wrong if i said all us judges are proud of every single one of the angels on a successful first week,” sunmi concluded. hyuna and j-hope hummed in agreement and nodded along to every word she said. she sent the angels a reassuring thumbs up to try soothe the obvious nerves of all the angels on stage.

incase you missed it !

[ WATCH SOLO PERFORMANCES — HERE ]

[ WATCH GROUP PERFORMANCES — HERE ]

the lights dimmed as the entire mood of the studio shifted.

“even though all our angels deserve to soar high sadly for one angel their wings will be cut.” nova spoke, her serious tone emphasizing the tension in the studio.

“before we show the results here’s a refresher on how voting works: you have been voting all week for your favourite angel and those votes contribute 50 points each. these points are added to the group points.” she looked over at yen to signal her to say her next lines.

“but today’s episode has a special twist,” yen turned to the camera with a pause. “two angels will be going home today.” behind the hosts the angels heads snapped up in panic. none of them were aware of the double elimination.

“the first will be the angel with the lowest rank from the losing team, and the other will be the angel with the lowest overall ranking, even if she’s part of the winning team she’ll leave the show today.”

the silence in the studio was deafening. none of the angels dared say a word as they waited in anticipation for the results. the angels stood in the groups as they linked hands to give each other support.

“without further ado, let’s see the results.” nova spoke directing everyone’s eyes to the screen where everyone’s rankings were plastered.

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝘼𝙋𝙃 𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙆 𝙊𝙉𝙀 : 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂

* every member of group 1 gets 350 points for placing first and every member of group 2 gets 250 points for placing last *

BAEBI - 1450 ( @whileinvenus )

YURI - 1300 ( @cube-vivid )

SUMMER - 1150 ( @se4sonz )

MIMI - 900 ( @inter-stellar-jyp )

RICKY - 850 ( @unholiied )

HAEJU - 800 ( @hcney-moon )

CHLOE - 800 ( @chloekwon )

EDEN - 750 ( @inter-stellar-jyp )

JADE - 750 ( @nct-krown )

AME - 700 ( @triptychexe )

DAHLIA - 650 ( @d3adfl0wers )

JAY - 500 ( @dulcetgg )

yuri brought her hands to her mouth, frozen in shock.

“i was not expecting to make it another week honestly,” she spoke in disbelief. “after being outshined by ricky all week, i thought it was over but here i am!” she giggled covering her mouth to hide the broad smile taking over her features.

baebi hugged her excitedly. her smile not only reflecting her pride in yuri’s high rank but also her own first place rank. pushing aside her dissatisfaction with their team losing she still was proud of what they’d done.

the same positivity was not felt as dahlia and jade saw the score board. as their team came last they knew someone was in jeopardy of going home but neither of them would’ve guessed it would be dahlia.

frozen in shock jade turned to dahlia who’s hand had flown up to her mouth as her eyes welled up. jade made quick movement to comfort dahlia before she fully broke down.

“don’t let them see you cry you know this says nothing about your talent or potential.” she whispered into dahlia’s ear. the older girl nodded along with jade’s words as she took deep breaths. as much as she was balanced now it still didn’t feel fair.

“dahlia doesn’t deserve this. she is one of the most talented girls here.” jade folded her arms as she turned her head to the side. “i can’t believe dahlia is gone and voice crack ricky is in the top 5. it doesn’t feel right.”

on the other team the girls huddle in an excited hug at their teams first place ranking. their teams ranking is what saved ame that week and she knew it. she had the second lowest rank of her team aside from jay who unfortunately had the least votes that week overall.

“at least some people voted for me”, she spoke to the camera as she let out a sigh. “i’ll just have to work extra hard next week,” she nodded as she encourage herself, trying her best to maintain the smile on her face no matter what.

in contrast to the rest of the girls , jay couldn’t keep her facade up. despite the positive energy around her she couldn’t stop the silent sobs that left her. she didn’t want her journey to end so abruptly, she deserved to stay longer mimi hanged her tightly as she let the taller girl cry into her shoulder. her eyes glossed over along with jays as she knew she was going to miss her, jay was one of the girls she’d grown closest to besides eden.

“i’m obviously going to miss jay,” mimi spoke softly wiping away at her tears. “she’s so talented i’m so sad to see her go. this week didn’t showcase her charms to the fullest,” she shook her head sadly as she sniffled.

the two eliminated girls took a step forward standing center stage as the judges said their last words.

“dahlia, how are you feeling?” nova asked as her teammates lovingly rubbed her back.

taking a deep breath dahlia spoke into the mic that was handed to her. “i’m obviously disappointed. our group didn’t go as planned and i just feel like i didn’t get to fully showcase what i’m capable of.” she sniffles loudly towards the end as she tried her best to hold in her tears.

“dahlia, you’re a talented girl. it's sad because it really felt as if you didn’t know why you were here, i couldn’t feel your passion and you need that to sell a performance.” sunmi spoke her eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned.

dahlia nodded, a sad tight lipped smile on her features as she handed to mic back. she was so focused on the rest of the team not messing up as well as feeling cheated out of the roll of main vocalist played against her. and it was too late to try again all she could do is find the spark that once lit a flame of passion in her and try again outside the show.

“jay,” j-hope sighed as the tall girl bowed her head unable to even look at the judges. “it’s sad seeing you go,” he admitted with a pout. “but i think it’s because you just haven’t found your sparkle yet and i think that’s something you have to do outside of ‘seraph’. but don’t give up and keep up the good work , and I’m sure you’ll be the next big thing.” all jay could do was nod, even having been handed the mic she couldn’t speak a word.

the focus shifted from the bottom 2 girls to ame who although safe still looked as distraught as the other angels.

“ame, you were so close to the bottom this week,” hyuna pointed out to which ame nodded her face sullen and disappointed. “you got lucky tonight but don’t let your guard down,” she pointed at the girl, giving her a knowing look. “something needs to change or you’ll be the next to say goodbye.” she warned. ame nodded once again taking a respectful bow.

the cameras focused back on the two hosts as the girls regrouped behind them.

the two girls descended the platform. dahlia wrapped her arm around jay as she still sobbed uncontrollably. the two made their way off stage waving to the remaining angels before exiting the studio completely and making their way to the dorms to pack up their belongings.

“it’s always sad to see and angel take off, especially so early in the show,” yen sighed sadly. nova hummed in agreement,” but sadly that’s how the show goes.”

“but let’s not focus on only the negatives but some positives. ladies and gentlemen give it up for our remaining 10 angels!” nova cheered making the studio erupt in excited claps and cheers. “congratulations girls you’ve made the top 10 out of hundreds of applicants!” the girls cheered once again as their moods lifted a significant amount compared to the somber mood earlier.

“that’s it for this episode! stay tuned to see how the angels spread their wings and soar through weekly challenges and compete to be a part of the ultimate super group !” yen ran over her signature closing line once again, sharing a sweet smile with her cohost

“thanks to everyone who participated and we’ll see you next week !” nova chimed in mirroring yen’s bright smile.

“goodbye !” they chorused as the 2 hosts waved at the camera before it zoomed out to focus on everyone in the studio.

*results below ! *

#[ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇 ] : ゝ ʚ fly me to the moon ɞ #bbkoc #aeskocnet #kpop idol oc #idol!au #idol!oc #oc kpop idol #kpop idol au #kpop addition #idol au

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 48! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

Draxum came up with a plan, and with all the clan gathered, he wasted no time to explain.

“Before we can defeat Krang, we must track Krang. He could be anywhere in the world by now.”

“So how are we meant to find him?” Leonardo asked, one hand propped on the table to support his head while his other arm was wrapped around his twin.

Draxum hummed. “TCRI has technology that can track the mystical outburst that Krang would be spilling into the earth’s atmosphere. If we can get access to that tech, then it is a simple matter of finding a place to fight him where we won’t be putting any humans in jeopardy.”

Splinter smirked. “So you care about humans now, do you Draxum?”

Draxum flushed hot and growled. “I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THOSE PATHETIC HUMANS THEY COULD ALL DIE IN VARIOUS PAINFUL WAYS AND I WOULDN’T CARE HAMATO YOSHI!”

“Speaking of dying in painful ways.” Raphael cracked his knuckles, “Being at TCRI’ll give us a chance to beat some answers out of Bishop.”

Leonardo leaned on his brother's shoulder, flashing his odachi. “I have been dying to try this baby out.”

“Then it’s decided.” Draxum smiled. “To TCRI we go!”

~~~

They arrived at TCRI, but immediately could all tell something was wrong. The lights inside were all turned off, the doors left wide open. For the yokai among them, there was another thing that was off putting enough that they stopped at a good distance away.

“The mystic dampening field is deactivated.” Draxum hummed softly.

“Why would they do that?” Sunita commented softly, slithering up to Draxum’s side seeking shelter in the presence of the senior yokai.

“Maybe they all went out for lunch?” Michelangelo suggested hopefully.

“All at the same time?” Leonardo asked and scoffed, motioning to the dark building. “With no guards and all that tech inside?”

“Something doesn’t smell right…” Splinter mused softly, lifting his nose to the breeze.

“Come on.” Raphael held his tonfa at the ready as he stuck across the empty street, peeking into the doors. He looked back toward his clan. “It’s empty…”

The clan all exchanged looks, and then Leonardo strutted out of his hiding spot with all the confidence in the world. Michelangelo gasped.

“Leo!” Michelangelo whispered in an urgent whisper, “Hide! You’ll be seen!”

“By who?” Leonardo asked, motioning to the empty streets and dark houses. “There’s no one here!”

Splinter peeked out of his hiding spot and looked down both sides of the streets, smelling the breeze for any sign of life other then them. When nothing but the normal smell of the city came back to him, he stepped out to follow his son. Following their master’s decision, the rest of the clan filed out of the shadows and into the streets.

“So strange…” Cassandra whistled.

“Being so close to this place gives me the heebies.” April shuddered.

Donatello got as close as the sidewalk and then stopped. Everyone else had already started to go into TCRI before anyone noticed the silent softshell was no longer among them. It was Raphael who noticed first, doing a mental headcount of his family before his eyes snapped to the streets to search for the straggler.

“Donnie?” Raphael called to his brother.

“I… I can’t…” Donatello whimpered. He tried to force himself to take another step forward, but every moment closer to TCRI was like a blinding flame searing across his skin. Debris collapsed on his shell, crushing the breath from within him. Pressure- painful pressure. There was fire and he couldn’t breath and he couldn’t find his family and—

April reached out a hand to touch the softshell and the horrors were cleared away like fog when the sun came out. She gave Donatello a patient smile and then glanced over at her remaining friends.

“I’ll stay out here with him. Not too eager to explore the bowels of TCRI so soon, y’know?”

Raphael gave a knowing nod. He motioned his clan to follow him, but it didn't take long for Draxum to once more take command of the group. He led them through the empty lobby into the equally empty basement, frowning deeply as he looked around.

“Looks like they took everything that wasn’t nailed down.” Draxum commented.

“Can you still track Krang?” Leonardo asked.

Draxum hummed. “Such an advanced machine should have been too heavy to be moved by hand… ah.” Draxum made a beeline for one of the few machines remaining in the abandoned room, a smile spreading across his face.

“Think it still works?” Michelangelo asked, following closely at Draxum’s side.

“One way to see.” Draxum’s fingers worked deftly and the screen lit up bright.

“Well that was easy.” Cassandra frowned.

“Too easy…” Draxum said suspiciously, “There was no password, no face recognition, no security questions, no log in.”

“Lucky us?” Michelangelo suggested.

“Yes, lucky…” Draxum stared at the screen as if he were entranced by the light before his fingers began to work quickly across the keyboard. “This is going to take a while.”

“Right.” Raphael nodded curtly, then turned to his family, “Right— then we should keep ourselves busy. Any ideas to kill time?”

Michelangelo opened his mouth to answer, but Draxum was faster.

“If you want to do something productive and not a total waste of your time, why not try to figure out how those mystic weapons work? They’re not like you’re old ones.”

Splinter’s wrinkles creased even more as he looked down at the weapons he held in his hands. The kama had been passed down to him from his mother, a deep indigo in color and engraved with the Hamato symbol. He hadn’t touched the weapons in almost two decades, having locked them away in the void under his bed; out of sight, out of mind. To have them in his paws again felt… wrong, almost. He sighed.

“I don’t know Draxum. I— I haven’t used proper weapon since the Battle Nexus I… I’m not sure they’re even mystic!”

“They are.” Draxum assured him, “I can feel their power. You just have to figure out what that power is. You are their owner by birthright.”

Splinter whined. Then he scowled as Leonardo leaned on his head like he was a stepstool.

“Why’d you keep them if you never planned on using them again?” Leonardo asked, glancing down at his father.

Splinter gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know— I just could never bear to part with them…”

There was a sad silence in the room as if all of them shared the silent mourning radiating from Splinter. Then Cassandra shattered the seconds-long vigil to say,

“Well what are we waiting for?!” Cassandra jumped onto Raphael’s shoulders so she had the height advantage, flashing her naginata into the air. “LET’S FIGHT BITCHESSSS!”

[caelcstis]

misc tags

letters received &&. sent out ⸢ 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 / asks &&. answers ⸥ games to play ⸢ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 / specify muses ⸥ wanted interactions ⸢ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 / specify muses ⸥ local neighborhood idiot ⸢ ooc. ⸥ save for a rainy day ⸢ 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / wanted plots ⸥ forfeit all worldly possessions to them ⸢ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐒 / we love them !! ⸥ don’t be shy &&. hop on in !! ⸢ opens ⸥ he’s speaking in jeopardy answers ⸢ crack ⸥

#letters received &&. sent out ⸢ 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 / asks &&. answers ⸥ #games to play ⸢ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 / specify muses ⸥ #wanted interactions ⸢ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 / specify muses ⸥ #local neighborhood idiot ⸢ ooc. ⸥ #save for a rainy day ⸢ 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / wanted plots ⸥ #forfeit all worldly possessions to them ⸢ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐒 / we love them !! ⸥ #don’t be shy &&. hop on in !! ⸢ opens ⸥ #he’s speaking in jeopardy answers ⸢ crack ⸥

[blcssed]

                 ‘ you put your hand over my mouth, tell me to shut up, and DON’T fuck me? ’

#minhyuk ( threads. ) #he's speaking in jeopardy answers ( crack. ) #suggestive. #i'm cryin'

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Hard To Love

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, You, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1097

Rating: Teen

Summary: Girl you've given me a million second chances and I don't ever wanna take you for granted

Tags/ Warnings: Arguing, Established Relationship, Fighting, Angst, Making Up, K*ssing, K*sses, Love, Hardships, Crying, Song Fic

Notes: Hard To Love - Lee Brice [x] [updated 9/22]

Advent Calendar of Fics // Day Ten

The wind was cold and icy on my face. The tear tracks that had formed on my face were now like icicles and the hood of the car was now painfully cold and penetrating through my jeans. I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me though it did nothing to fend off the icy wind that was bearing down on me. I looked down at my phone and found that I had been out for two hours. I also had fifteen missed calls and texts from Dean and a couple from Sam begging me to take his brother on because he was driving him crazy. I sighed and slid off the hood of the car. I wiped my face with my sleeve and got inside the Impala. The air was just as cold in here and I shivered as I turned on the car and the heaters started blowing cold air at me. The stereo blared out the Led Zeppelin tape that I had played on the way here when my sadness was more anger. I turned it over to a radio station that I could tune out and drove back to the motel. 

It was a long drive. After Dean and I had had a massive argument I stormed out, took the impala and just drove. I hadn’t stopped when I got onto the highway and had driven until I ran out of steam and pulled into a deserted truck stop and broke down in tears. It seemed a shorter drive on the way back and I was sitting outside the motel room in the car in no time wondering what I should do. I had warmed up considerable but I needed to pee yet I still couldn’t force myself to go inside. I lay my head on the steering wheel thinking through what I should do. As I did there was a squeak as the door opened and I looked up to see Dean sliding into the passenger side. 

I turned my gaze away. His green eyes were wide and pleading when he looked at me and I could feel myself crumbling. We sat in silence for ten minutes before Dean’s phone rang and disturbed us. He answered in a low voice as if he didn’t want me to be disturbed though I heard every word, ‘Hello…yeah she’s back…no….get your own damn food we’ve got our own stuff…Well, walk then…Jesus Sam,’ he said turning his phone off with force. ‘You can go and get Sam something to eat you know. I’m not stopping you,’ I said.  ‘Sam can get his own damn food. Besides don’t you think that it’s better for us to hash this thing out.’  ‘Since when did Dean Winchester want to speak about his feelings? Ever?’  ‘Okay, I deserve that,’ he said holding up his hands, ‘but this was a doozy of a fight. Maybe I don’t want to sweep it under the rug.’  ‘I don’t want to argue again,’ I said rubbing my nose which was growing colder again now the engine had been switched off.  ‘Neither do I,’ he said reaching a hand out and putting it on my leg. His large hands felt warm even through the denim of my jeans.

‘Dean,’ I said unable to stop my voice from cracking as I spoke, ‘you really hurt me you know.’ ‘I know,’ he said.  ‘And this, it isn’t going away.’ ‘I know that too. And I’ve been speaking to Sammy and Cas and they’ve made me see some sense I was too hard on you I know that now. I should not have reacted the way I did and some of the things I said I shouldn’t have. I know that.’ ‘You didn’t think that at the time?’ I asked incredulously.  ‘It was the heat of the moment?’ he said with a confused face as if he was guessing an answer on jeopardy than telling me something.  ‘It was you being an ass.’

‘Okay, that’s fair,’ he said, ‘but it’s never exactly been in the Winchester manifesto to ask questions first and then shoot. Sometimes my mouth says things before my brain can react and tell me it’s a stupid idea.’ ‘That doesn’t mean that you don’t think those things,’ I said with a sigh.  ‘True. But just because that’s how I feel initially doesn’t mean that I can’t come around to other ways of thinking y’know. I mean remember when we first got together? I was adamant that we wouldn’t work and that something bad would happen every single day. I let it get in our way and I shouldn’t have but you made me see that that’s not how it needs to be.’ 

I looked at him and nodded. He smiled that knee-weakening smile and pulled on my arm. I fell into his side and allowed him to encircle me with his stronghold. As I lay my head on his chest I could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat underneath my ear. 

I felt my anger and hurt melting away. I felt him press a kiss on the top of my head as his hand trailed up and down my back. 

‘I love you,’ he mumbled into my hair and I smiled.  ‘I love you too,’ I replied and he sighed.  ‘I know it’s not always easy. I know I’m a jackass. I drink too much, I test your trust most of the time and I give you mountains of grief. Honestly, I don’t know if I could do it if it were the other way around. Sometimes I don’t know how you stay with me,’ he said. ‘Dean,’ I grumbled,  ‘you’re not that bad. Don’t be too harsh on yourself.’ ‘It’s true. I’m like a wrecking ball sometimes. Tonight is a case in point but don’t you think that I don’t know that I’m like that. Don’t think for a second that I don’t appreciate the fact you put up with me day in and day out because I love you Y/N. I really do.’ ‘Dean Winchester are you going soft on me?’ I chuckled looking up at him. Though he cracked a smile I could tell his eyes were legitimately serious. I leaned up and kissed him tenderly and I could feel him smiling into it.

He was right. He was lucky to have me. But I was lucky to have him. Even if he was a pain in the ass. 

#My writing #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #supernatural fic #spn fic #supernatural #reader fic #advent calendar of fics #hard to love

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 9

<- Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 ->

@sexy-opium-ravioli​ asked me to write a comfort Frankenstein fic so instead I did this [stares at the camera] 

cw: suicidal ideation 

Heavy raindrops pound on the wood-shingle roof, each impact combining into a chorus that roars in your ears in the pitch-black darkness. It’s like you’re being swallowed by a great beast. The entire building creaks, straining against the wind, making your heart race with the fear that it might all come crashing down on top of you as you lay clutching the covers in bed.

A deafening crack and blinding surge of light is followed shortly by a second, earthier crack and a dull thud on grass. Lightning hit one of the trees in the pasture.

In the middle of this raging tempest through which no living being could survive, there comes a scratch at your shutter. The curtains flutter as wind suddenly swirls inside, and the roar of rain grows louder. Something is coming into your bedroom.

Another flash of lightning reveals the silhouette of a massive figure, drenched and dripping, standing in front of the window. The blast of thunder that shortly follows makes the enormous figure jump, and rush, trembling like a kitten, to your bedside.

You take his deformed and scarred hand in yours, and squeeze it.

“I do not like thunder,” his grave voice whispers through gasping, timid breaths. Your beautiful, sweet creature. You never want anything to hurt him. An aching sadness washes over you anew, quivering your lower lip.

He notices you are shaking, frantic, frazzled, and puffy-eyed. He doesn’t look much better.

“When you did not come, I feared for you.” He licks his lips nervously. “I ascertained that you were within the house, but were under guard, and I could not reach you. Please tell me you are unharmed—if anything has happened to you, I shall not forgive my cowardice.”

Without warning, a sob chokes you, and hot tears roll down your face. The monster, filling up half your small cottage bedroom, doffs his wet cloak and pulls your crying form against his warm, broad chest like an extension of the furniture and holds you, rubbing your back and cooing soft words of comfort. You hide your face against him, trying to disappear as muffled sobs wrack your shoulders.

“What is wrong?” he asks with a voice so fragile from your silence that the answer might break him.

“Just let me hold you for awhile. Please.”

You feel him shudder against you, and surround you in his warm arms like a cocoon. It’s a long time before you can collect yourself enough to tell him what happened.

*****

“Like hell we are!” you snapped impulsively as soon as Ferdinand announced your “engagement.” Your fists clenched into tight balls of righteous fury. He was delusional. You were leaving.

Then your father stared at you—that dark, severe stare that threatened violence if you did not behave. “Mind your tongue, child!” he snapped, and your tongue stopped moving, and all of the smart words that had been on the tip of it just disappeared. It was so strange. You had been frightened to run, terrified, but you were ready. Just like that, all the oxygen seemed to drain from the room as Ferdinand, your father, and your mother surrounded you, reminding you of your place in the world and how helpless you were in it.

Your fiery ember dropped into a bucket of water.

You sat in the living room, trapped like a rabbit in a snare, crawling inside your own skin as reality washed over you. They laid out the situation. There were rumors around town—serious ones—that you’ve been consorting with the devil. Half the village thought you were a witch. It wouldn’t be long before something terrible came of it, but Ferdinand had graciously offered to make you his wife, and in doing so, put the rumors to bed. So you would marry him. He was well-liked among the superstitious factions, and could get them to leave you alone if he made you an honest woman. (You growled at the implications of that particular phrase.)

Ferdinand sneered with self-satisfaction, his voice dripping with honey as he said how much he worried for you.

They were pressing you into the marriage and would hear no arguments, no back-talk. They suspected you might run, and wouldn’t let you out of their sight—your mother, your father, and Ferdinand.

You were prey. There was nothing you could do to fight.

The sky grew ever darker and more ominous with each passing minute you spent ensnared, until you knew you had missed the rendezvous time. Your heart twisted—if your daemon were wise, he had left already without you. Thinking of the alternative—that he had stayed, and would be discovered—your chest twisted even tighter. Marrying Ferdinand was a get-out-of-jail-free card for you, but the creature’s life was in irrevocable mortal jeopardy.

“You can’t force me to marry him!” you whimpered to your mother, praying for a sympathetic ear when you were left alone with her for a moment. She was horrible, but she was a woman. She must understand, at least a little, what they were doing to you.

She patted you softly on the shoulder, but her eyes stayed hard. “Your grandmother remembered when they burned a witch right in the center of town. Believe me, this gossip is not something to take lightly. Making you a proper wife is the only way to make people see that you are a normal girl. If you do not, then you shall no longer be our daughter, and we cannot protect you from whatever shall happen next.”

You tried to speak, but your tongue was dry. You kept trying to swallow the dryness away, but it stuck in your throat. You wanted to rage, to scream against them, to be on fire, but your blood had all turned to ice.

This was happening, and there was nothing you could do but accept it.

*****

The creature strokes your cheek gently, his sympathetic and sorrowful yellow eyes glistening in the erratic flashes of light from the storm. “I am sorry I could not protect you. I am here now; let us depart under the cloak of night.”

Your head shakes in tense arcs before you decide to make them, your throat closing up. “You don’t understand—I can’t.”

The dark shadow shaped like his body becomes a tense, rigid statue. “What do you mean?” he says, cautiously.

“I can’t!” you repeat, as if he’s the one not making sense and your feelings should need no explanation, but you explain anyway, the words gushing out like a flooded river. “Maybe I wanted to, I thought I could, but it isn’t realistic. Look at the storm outside! I can’t run away in the middle of this—it frightens even you, doesn’t it? You couldn’t protect me should a thunderbolt strike me on the head! What will we do during weather such as this without any shelter? With my family monitoring me like a prisoner, I could not even finish packing—I haven’t the food and water to survive a week away from home! Where could we go, anyway? You cannot guarantee Victor Frankenstein will take us in! He may just as likely kill us! They think me a witch here, where everyone has known me since I was a baby. I will be a witch in the next town. We will be pariahs wherever we go.”

You wished he would yell, that he would argue, or be consumed in a fit of emotion—that would be better somehow—instead, he listens to your fearful list of excuses silently, with no reaction but his shoulders slowly falling and a soft, pained growl deep in his throat.

“D-don’t you see?” you explain frantically as if he had been arguing back. “We don’t need to run. They never spoke of you as more than rumor—those hunters, and Bess, they must not have been believed as any more than superstition. Every town has its ghost stories. There is no bloodthirsty mob, so long as I marry him. We can stay here and keep you hidden. We’ll be safe.”

“Safe?” he growls, but only softly and without malice. He can no longer bear to listen quietly. “You wish to marry him?” You hoped he would be angry, but his voice is a wavering medley of betrayal and confusion, and the pang it leaves in your heart is almost too much to bear.

“Of course not, but I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. Run away with me tonight.” An angry bolt of lightning splintered another tree out in the pasture, making you both jump, and providing the counterpoint to his argument for you. “Tell me you want to marry him,” he reaches out with a large hand that could cover your entire head, and delicately strokes your cheek. His eyes glisten with longing. “Tell me you want this and I will go. I shall live the rest of my life a miserable wretch, but I shall bear it, knowing you are happy.”

“Y-you once told me you wouldn’t care if I was with other men, so long as I came back to you. Maybe we could…”

That finally gets a rise out of him. “We could what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “You desire to marry another, and keep me hidden away in a barn—a filthy secret for you to visit at your leisure—to make love to when you are not sharing a bed with your husband? Is that… what you want?” The energy and indignation he had begun with fades away to a lame sort of helplessness by the end.

You know how pathetic you sound. How weak. It was the last thing you expected of yourself, too. You had always walked to your own beat, never fit in, and never cared what anyone thought of you—at least not enough to change for their benefit. You always dreamed of running away one day.

But you hadn’t.

No matter how much you had dreamed it—and even one exhilarating day had packed a bag and chased an eight-foot monster into the forest, convinced that you might run away with him—you never actually did. So many years waiting in misery, and all of that time you could have run.

But you wouldn’t. The moment the fantasy began to crystallize into reality, you froze with terror. You never would.

You only wish you had realized this before hurting him. Your precious daemon stares back at you expectantly, fiercely blinking his watery yellow eyes to fight off tears he won’t let fall in front of you. He’s waiting for you to assure him that this is a mistake—that he’s more to you than a sexual pet—and your heart twists with shame.

“Here is bad, but here is safe. It’s that kind of bad that’s all I’ve ever known. That sharp, snow-covered peak you can see from the barn has stood there, unchanging since I was born. It was there watching over our valley before my parents were born. The alpine winds have shaped it for thousands of years, since before the great pyramids of Egypt. Maybe I am like that mountain. Maybe I can never change, no matter how much I want to.”

It’s not the answer he hoped for. His jaw clenches. He had come here thinking you were running away together at last, and finally, finally, the weight of what is happening sinks in. You watch as the hope goes out of his eyes. Lightning flashes behind him, a little more distantly now. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“Please don’t look away,” you sob, begging. Something inside you is breaking with him.

Footsteps creak on the stairs and the faint orange glow of a candle filters under the door. “Are you talking to someone in there?” demands your mother’s shrill voice just as the door to your bedroom swings open. Your mother gasps in horror.

“You’ve left the window open, you fool child!” She clucks disapprovingly and rushes to shut it, closing the drenched curtains over it once it is latched tight. The shadow of the creature is gone. “What were you thinking? Of running away?” she snaps.

Yes, you want to scream. You hate her. Pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, and you wish you had disappeared into the night, too, for a vengeful bolt of lightning to release you from your misery.

Then she does something that surprises you. She sighs, and sits at the edge of your bed, her weight making a sinkhole on the straw-filled mattress. “My baby girl, you’re crying. They say it isn’t right for a bride to cry on her wedding night, but we know better.” She smiles sadly and wipes a tear from your cheek. “I wanted to run away, too,” she says quietly. Her gaze drifts over the window thoughtfully, like she was imagining a different life. In the flickering candlelight, you wonder if she could almost see it, that other life. You wonder what it was. “But if I had, where would you be?!” Her voice is back to an accusing, judgment-laden shrill. “I’ve tried so hard with you, to get you to grow up. You finally came to your senses—you’re not a child anymore, you can’t just do whatever you want. Life isn't a fairy tale. Life isn’t about being happy… it’s about doing what you have to do. Don’t disappoint me.”

When she leaves and returns downstairs, you give a cursory but hopeful search under the bed and in the corners and shadows for the creature, but he is gone. You had seen him disappear into the loft at the slightest sound of footsteps dozens of times, and you know he had fled out the window and is miles away by now. You wonder if he had returned to the barn, but you know in your heart that he’s gone. It’s already too late. You saw the way he had looked at you before your mother interrupted. Betrayed. Wounded. Finished.

He must hate you.

You throw open the shutters again and look out on the dark, windswept landscape. Heavy, cold rain pummels your face, soaking your night dress instantly and making your squint and shiver against it. There is no sign of him, though above the howling of the wind, you imagine that you hear him howling, desperate and anguished. You could jump from here, you think. You could lash together your bed sheets and climb down undetected, and—

A bolt of lightning strikes a tree in front of the house and it explodes to splinters as a cataclysm of thunder bursts open your ears. The blinding-white flash fills your room and your senses, sets all your hairs standing on end, and for several moments after you can’t see or hear a thing. Am I alive? you wonder first. Is he scared? you worry a second later. When your eyes finally adjust to the dark again, you can see the smoldering embers of the destroyed trunk, its crown lying in pieces on the ground. One branch had scarcely missed the roof, and had you jumped from your window a moment before, you certainly would have been hit.

If only you had been, a part of you screams against your skull. It’s the only way out, now. Jump from the window! it insisted, its voice weaving harsh fingers of smoke through your mind. Run, slipping in the wet grass with your ankle broken into the night and find him, or be eaten by a bear. Let a branch fall and crush your pathetic body. Let the lightning take you to Hell.

You close the shutter, and latch it.

Shaking, you return to your bed and lay on top of the covers. The depression in the mattress from your mother is still flattening out. Wet spots on the blanket are the only memento of the creature’s visit. You remember what it felt like to be held, warm and safe in his arms just moments ago, and try to tuck the memory away somewhere it will never be lost. Somewhere you can look back at it in the years to come. You’ll never feel that way again.

It would be a mistake to run.

You're making the right choice.

You don’t want to die. Surviving means doing what you have to do.

You're making the right choice.

You're making the right choice.

You repeat it to yourself over and over, shivering alone on top of your bed until the black sky turns to grey, and the birds start to sing a summer chorus—first one melodic song, then a jarring metallic buzz, a repetitive whistle, and more and more add their voices until it swells into a cacophony in the purple dawn. The storm must have passed some time in the night without your noticing. It doesn’t matter. You made your choice and broke your own wings.

You made the right choice.

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #monster x reader #the creature x reader #monster x human #my writing #lo siento por esto XD #I hope I don't make you wait another 4 months for an update >_>

[aaluminiumas]

Mercenary

The man called Wango failed to spot the female mercenary: he neglected and despised the drastic change of weather – such occasions were rather frequent in this part of the world. However, he did feel an obscure threat in the snowstorm whirling around him and attacking him from different angles – it almost behaved like a human being.

The blizzard quickly reacted to his attempts to defend himself from snow: whenever Wango turned away from the fluke of wind, the invisible enemy followed suit; every time he tried to cover his face from the snow, the microscopic particles became more persistent and aggressive, making their way into his eyes, nose, and ears, grazed across his skin as if in hope to dig underneath it or leave painful, bleeding scratches.

“Don’t be in a hurry, Wango.”

A derisive female voice cut the blizzard blinding the victim. Ambush seemed too insipid an action, so Monet, an advanced Devil fruit user, made her presence absolutely evident. She naturally played with the weather; her fingers, much like Doflamingo’s, pulled invisible strings causing various changes. A gentle move to the side and a gust of wind slapped the man across the cheek. A rough swat down – a wad of snow hit him powerfully in the temple. A clenched fist – and a white fortress formed around the man who had been lippy enough to try to double-cross Doflamingo himself. Not only that – he seemed to be on the take; some other pirate had bribed him to pry into the Donquixotes’ secrets.

“The fuck?!” the man cursed, looking around, his optics narrowed, a woolen scarf wrapped around the lower part of his ashen face with a large mole on the left eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Genuinely fascinated by the game, Monet did not reply; the snowstorm abated. Using the slack period to his advantage, Wango fished out the map; a moment later, and a powerful gust of wind yanked it from his frozen fingers. Then, relying on his memories and summoning the images of the juxtaposed landmarks, the man endeavored to orient himself. Unfortunately, most of them were concealed underneath thick layers of snow. Perplexed, he made an irresolute step towards the nearby forest – he wouldn’t dare dart directly into the grove, but the trees may be a good enough bolt-hole. He couldn’t stay there for long, sure, but it’d certainly save him the trouble and give him a brief respite to collect his wits and regain his composure.

Plowing through the newly increasing snowstorm, Wango, panting, headed towards the woods, the distant howl of the wind reverberating in his skull. He’d seen extreme conditions, he’d been to numerous islands with harsh climates, but nothing could compare to this. The more he struggled to muddle through the snow, the weaker he became – he sensed he couldn’t achieve his goal. The forest seemed to remain in the same spot, or even farther than he initially thought; almost falling down to the ground, the man estimated whether he was able to crawl to it. Or was it all a mirage? How could a tree grow here, in this ice desert?.. And that voice that called him through the sleet – it wasn’t real, was it?..

Monet chased him unceasingly, surrounding the man by the amplifying snow walls and thus cornering him, so he had no escape route. The forest appeared a risky enough destination as he might skulk through the spreading branches and eventually get lost, so the woman amassed all her energy and lured him in the wrong direction, occasionally leaving a vague track of footprints in her wake to instill a vain hope in him. As devious as Doflamingo himself, Monet had devised a beautiful plan, worked out the kinks, and now she knew perfectly well what to do next. In fact, she needn’t go into detail with a man like Wango as he meant no harm to her, a strong soldier trained by the topmost members of the Donquixote Family, but she nonetheless wanted it to operate without a hitch. Monet put much time and effort into reducing possible jeopardy to a bare minimum, and she would loathe seeing it go to waste. Nobody checked Wango’s liaisons as of late, and the woman felt little to no desire to involve his potential companions or partners. She had a task to accomplish, and in this case, collateral damage would not be welcome.

Unable to squelch a bout of ominous mirth mixed with obvious gloat, Monet let out a quiet chuckle. The man, distinctly alert, turned around to face nothing but a pair of bleak curious eyes gazing at him through the white veil of snow.

“Who the fuck are you?” Wango exclaimed, clearly disoriented and frightened. “What are you doing here? Chasing me?”

Monet did not reply immediately. Instead, she used the protracted pause to savor the victim's sheer consternation.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling. “A Marine?”

“Marine. Funny.”

Monet emanated a quiet chuckle – it was immediately muffled by the wail of the wind. Bewildered, flabbergasted, the treacherous pirate staggered back, his face a grey mask of dismay. Mesmerized by the yellow orbs, he couldn’t dragoon himself to look around and impel his brain to work.

“As I have said, don’t be in a hurry.”

Wango gasped, stumbling further, retreating. In a moment, he realized he wasn’t moving anywhere – his only escape route was cut off by a large wall made of snow.

“Who are you?” the man demanded again in a desperate attempt to buy some time, his brain working frantically, contriving a plan to escape his fate. “What are you?”

Monet let out another chuckle. The pirate, breathing heavily, rapidly examined the walls around him. After all, she – if it were a she – couldn’t be invincible, right? Everybody had weaknesses, and all he needed to do was to discover and hit them. Fiercely. Or, at least, to find out what made her tick, so he could play along, deceive her and flee while he still could. Unfortunately, he knew precious little about Devil Fruit users, so all his suppositions regarding the apparition’s powers were limited and may not evince the status quo. Of course, if Devil Fruits were indeed a thing, not an old legend told by nostalgic pirates embellishing their adventures with details that never existed. Anyways, he should use the bits of information he’d occasionally picked in his numerous trips abroad and do it right now – otherwise, he’d be buried underneath snow dunes.

The walls of the improvised fortress moved an inch closer towards the man. Unable to pinpoint the source of the chortle, the man kept gyrating and swerving in all directions. There must be a crevice, a tiny hole, a crack that would ruin the whole citadel when pressure applied. The wall seemed bleak and monolithic, save for a minuscule seam between two snow slabs. Wango wondered if he could break it by a powerful push, but as the plates irrevocably tightened around him, he stopped hesitating and leaned onto the junction.

The woman was watching him intently, her avian eyes fixed on the man’s pale face and his miserable endeavors. She clearly enjoyed the game and already envisioned the climax she had already acted out in her head: nothing could surpass the beauty of the scene her brain generated. If only Doflamingo could see it, he would be delighted. He’d savor the cruelty she precipitated on the disloyal pirate.

Wango, shoving the impregnable wall, spotted a glimpse of extreme atrocity in the yellow orbs glowing under the snowy veil. Albeit the pretty face outlined by the wind didn’t reveal any particular emotion, he was sure that this woman – or whoever the hell she might be – would not let him go. He needed to outwit or defeat her, and the latter option appeared far-fetched: she already used her power on him. He needed to rely on his street smarts, nothing else would help.

“Who sent you?” Wango demanded, his shaking hands pushing the wall.

“A friend of yours. Our mutual friend, to be exact,” came a singsong answer.

A spark of recognition. It couldn’t be– it couldn’t be, right? He was offered protection, given guarantees – after all the risks he underwent, after all the hindrances he’d overcome?.. He thrust the plate with his body, but it didn’t budge – though it did prevent the wall from moving.

“What friend? I don’t have friends,” he snapped, “Might be another self-assured prick thinking he can order me about.”

“Might be.”

Her voice dispersed in the roar of the wind that slowly abated. The snowflakes no longer seemed ferocious – instead of viciously scratching his skin, now they gently caressed the weather-beaten face and got interlaced with the eyelashes. The irresolute moonlight tickled the treetops and descended onto the ground illuminating the ruins of the snow fortress around him. The forest resembled picture-perfect tranquility, an exile from the frenzied world concentrated on wealth and glory – he should definitely ponder such an option over.

Monet approached him from behind. Quietly, she sashayed over to the man, her spidery hands tenderly lying onto his shoulder, cold breath hitting him on the skin already bitten by the frost.

He did not fight back. Chained by overwhelming consternation and panic, the man certainly planned to talk his way out – even though he didn’t have a knack for speaking, eloquence was certainly not his strength, he nonetheless hoped she’d hear. Actually, he intended to plead – to beg, to gravel, if needed; once proud and arrogant, Wango realized that the outcome depended solely on her mercy – or lack thereof. Monet succeeded to inculcate fear in him, but instead of the fight or flight reaction she expected, Wango palsied, his limbs stymied, only the greenish orbs were desperately swerving around.

“How many people have you already betrayed?” the woman asked nonchalantly, the smarmy voice penetrating his ears. The woman did not look threatening; something in the tone was lulling him to sleep while the snow sucked in his boots and crusted. “Weren’t you taught the basic human virtues? Honesty, sincerity… shall we say, loyalty?”

The wench might be opiating him by her quiet voice and the insidious warmth her skin exuded. Or was it his own body?.. Nevermind. He must wrench free from her viselike grip, or he’d end up freezing here to death – he already felt drowsy. Plucking out his feet, Wango mustered all his strength and remaining stamina to jump back. It did not help: he realized that he was trapped, that the ruins of the fortress stood there unharmed, and the space between him and the woman was so narrow that he could barely plan his maneuver; his panic-stricken brain hardly reacting to command.

“You just don’t understand,” he mumbled, imploring, his tongue hardly moving, “Please, listen to me, whoever you are,” his optics uncontrollably circulating, “It had to be… I had to do that! They’d kill me if I hadn’t–”

“Death is a release, isn’t it?”

Monet sounded half-sardonic, half-joking this time; there was a note of seriousness in her voice, though it was mostly concealed by the emotion she failed to properly convey. Still, a tinge of crystal clear disdain trickled into the words.

“I’m a poor man,” Wango whined, “I’m a poor man abused by many–”

His senseless wailing started to get on her nerves, and for a second – just a second, not more – it diverted her attention. Using that short respite, the man turned around, darted forward, and seized the woman by the chartreuse-colored hair. Hauling her over to him, the man licked his chapped lips and pulled out a rough shiv pressing it to her underjaw.

“You think you can play me, bitch?” Wango hissed, his hazel eyes burning with untamed ferocity.

“I most certainly do.”

Another grin distorted her lips, and the woman dribbled through his fingers – her green locks, her face, her body slowly morphed into snow that materialized behind him. Her hands clawed into his shoulders, clamped him tightly against her lean frame. Wango, unable to have forestalled such an action, tried to kick her in the legs, but the holdfast tightened, her icicle-like talons piercing his flesh.

“Death is a release,” Monet intoned into his ear, her whisper drowning in the shrill of agony and extreme anguish. “Soon you’ll see.”

Swiftly, she fished out her elegant dagger and slashed his throat in one methodic, steady gesture while propelling Wango away from her. The gaping wound splayed open, almost beheading the man. Shocked, dumbfounded by the fierce and rapid attack, he choked and hastened to put pressure on the cut but to no avail. The blood was already gushing all over his trembling hands, momentarily soddening his clothes and splattering across the snow forming a crimson trail in the direction of the looming forest in the distance.

In several minutes of ugly convulsions, he was dead. The tranquility, not disturbed by the brief melee, finally reigned.

“And salvation too, isn’t it?”

Stepping over the corpse, the woman squatted beside him and pulled a ring off his middle finger: Doflamingo had indicated his trust by giving the jewelry to the man. Wiping her fingers off the blood-soaked shirt of the cadaver, Monet left the place. If her Young Master had any doubts regarding her loyalty, by now they most likely dispersed.

#monet #one piece #op #fanfic #fanfiction #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x monet #doflamingo

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 7 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1k

tw: none

masterlist

Your toes. You can feel your toes. And your knees.

Knees... knees... why do you remember knees?

Oh yeah, Suguru shot the guard's knees. You hope they're alright as you wiggle your right hand. Left hand? Left hand. It's being held by someone. Someone warm. Someone breathing slowly. Asleep.

A nasty, dull ache resounds from your lower left side. No, that's not good.

Your eyes snap open, scanning the room carefully before landing on the sleeping figure beside your bed. Suguru.

Your mouth feels like it's packed with cotton, or else you would speak up and get his attention, but he's fully asleep, eyes closed off to the world. You tenderly squeeze his hand, but he doesn't wake up, head resting on the edge of the couch pulled close to your gurney.

What happened?

Where are you?

You assume everything is okay because you and Suguru haven't been separated, but you can't be too sure. Finally, the door creaks open, and you watch a woman come in and jump a little.

"You're awake," the brown-haired woman whispers, and you nod, blinking slowly. "Good. We were hoping you wouldn't be out for much longer."

"Ho--" your voice cracks, and the lady gets you a bottle of water from the table beside the gurney. You drink it greedily before she answers with certainty.

"A week."

A week?? The lady must see the surprise on your face because she immediately launches into an explanation.

"You were pretty hostile when we first got you in here, pulling out breathing tubes and cursing us out, but once we got you sedated and into surgery, everything became much better."

"Nnnn..." Suguru lifts up off the couch, angling his neck around as he turns to look at the woman. "Y/n..." He almost falls off of the couch with how quickly he tries to stand up, instantly coming to your side. "How do you feel?" he wonders, kissing your knuckles.

"Like hell," you moan, and he chuckles a little, kissing the back of your hand. "I was really out for a week?"

"Yeah," he breathes, sighing heavily. "But you'll be up and moving in no time. Shoko is an expert at removing bullet wounds." Shoko smiles, leaving the two of you alone in the room once she replaces your water bottle.

"Where are we?" At Suguru's grim expression, you fear the worst possible answer, and you get it almost immediately.

"The Fallen Sun District." Fallen Sun... Where all of the exiles of the Kitsune and Leviathans go. The Grand Sun District is hours away, maybe even a full day's journey. You're fugitives now.

"Won't they come looking for us here?" you gasp, trying to sit up.

"No, no, no," the former Leviathan urges you, pressing you back down onto the gurney. "They can't reach us here. We're in the heart of the district."

"It's dangerous here." You can't help the whine escaping from your throat. "Suguru, why here of all places?"

"It's the only place that's safe for us, y/n. I couldn't take you anywhere that would be able to treat your wound and keep us under the radar without Toji or Yuki finding out. This is the only place they don't care about."

"What about Gojo?"

"What about him?" Geto asks, eyes darkening.

"That's your friend; he--"

"No one who is that deep in the CSB is my friend." Wait... "I'm going to let you rest. I'll come back to check on you in a few hours."

"Su." He stops before he reaches the door, turning back to face you. "You knew about the files before I showed them to you, didn't you?"

Geto Suguru. (released)

"And you wanted me to get rid of them, even though you said you would find out who planted them on my computer. But you never did. You just needed me to keep quiet until you found a way out of the situation." Suguru's face doesn't move; he just waits for you to finish up your conclusion. "You put the files on my computer. But you didn't expect me to go and tell anyone about it." He raises his brow, grimacing.

"You put a lot of people in jeopardy by telling Yuki what you knew."

"You expected me to stay silent and then run away, didn't you? Or worse, be exiled. But they went a step further and tried to have us killed. That's why they wanted the thumb drive. They had no idea that information had been leaked and assumed it was Kenjaku doing this." Your voice rises exponentially as the truth unravels in front of you.

"It was Kenjaku," Suguru states plainly. "It is Kenjaku." Horror floods your veins, and you sit in the bed in shock.

"You're Kenjaku." Panic. Your synapses misfire rapidly, and you see the man in front of you press his lips together, but you're not in the gurney. You're far away, outside of your body, as the realization that you were paired with the man responsible for so much death and destruction sets in. "You gave them the destination of the computer room, too. You knew the jig was up."

"I knew you were smarter than they gave you credit for. But you don't have my side of the story, you see. You don't know why."

"Tell me, then."

"When you're raised in the Fallen Sun district, all you know is suffering and loneliness. The CSB took everyone I loved and turned them into criminals for speaking the truth about their corruption. So... I joined their ranks and gained control of the Fallen Sun District. However, Yu happened to find out my little secret, and I dealt with it the best way I knew how at the time. His death still haunts me, but I took a drastic step out of panic."

"You would've killed me, too."

"No," he tilts his head to the side and bites the inside of his lip. "No, you aren't like Yu. You had doubts about everything before I put those things on your desktop. I just wanted to see if they would push you over the edge." Suguru shrugs. "And it worked. I just didn't expect to fall for you as hard as I did; unfortunately, there's no going back from that." Suguru inches toward the door, his black locks pulled up and away from his face, unlike how he kept it before. "But I don't regret it at all," are his final words before he shuts and locks the door, trapping you in the hospital room.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

#geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #getou x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #please address all hate mail to the proper authorities

[d3-iseefire]

Little Swan Lost Chapter 36

“Well?” The king’s sharp voice broke the silence and Bilba jumped. She hadn’t realized that she’d frozen, her mental faculties completely abandoning her.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, she thought bitterly. This was how it always went, wasn’t it? She was so certain she could handle things, so confident of any confrontation and then it happened and she just…. fell apart.

She’d almost had it, once. A month ago, now, though it felt like an eternity. Back when she’d so boldly marched into her grandfather’s office to demand an explanation about why he’d dragged her away from her performance.

Time spent away from her family had blurred the pain of her past, softened the sharp edges and pushed the worst of it deep inside where her mind could more easily pretend it never happened. The woman who’d marched into her grandfather’s office had been a product of those years, so close to the person she might have been had her parents never died.

So confident, and all of it had been stripped away in an instant.

Every time she tried to stand up, step out, be someone else, there was always something, someone waiting to knock her back again.

“Are you mute, girl?” Thrain pushed to his feet and slapped a hand on his desk in irritation.

Bilba dug one of her fingernails into the joint of her thumb. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Your Majesty,” she managed to get out, her voice soft. She could almost feel the bars closing about her again. She liked to think she’d escaped them, but they were always there, not gone, just pushed a little out, ready and waiting to close back in again when she least expected it.

Thrain’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been frigid toward my son?” he demanded. “Have you refused your duty?”

Heat flooded Bilba’s face, partly from humiliation and partly from irritation that Thrain simply assumed the fault was entirely hers. Thorin was the one openly running about with his ex-fiancée and yet she was somehow the problem?

A calculating look entered Thrain’s eyes and a shiver ran down Bilba’s spine. The expression was reminiscent of her grandfather, never in public of course, but in private when it was just the two of them and there was no need for the mask.

“You are capable of conception, are you not?” Thrain asked curtly. “I have heard of your…antics in Shire. Either you are more careful than your character would credit, or your grandfather has sent me a defective princess.” His voice, if possible, grew colder and a strange, almost manic look entered his eyes. “Is that it, then? The reason your grandfather was so adamant about this marriage? Did he seek to undermine my throne by ensuring I would have no heir?”

Bilba’s breathing grew short as the scathing words pierced her like blades. She desperately wanted to point out that she’d only been married to Thorin a month, that he was the one causing problems not her and, the most obvious fact of all, that Thrain had no less than four male heirs at his disposal which meant his throne was anything but in jeopardy.

She wanted to say all that, but the words froze in her throat, because all she could see was her grandfather. His face, his voice, and the actions he’d taken to ensure she never crossed him. There had been no one to help her back then, and no one to help her now.

At least in Shire, horrible as it had been, she’d known where she stood. She’d known that no matter what, her grandfather would at least stop short of killing her. He needed her, for his audience and, later, for this farce of a marriage he’d forced her into.

She had no such assurances of safety here. Misstep, forget her place, falsely believe she’d escaped as she’d so stupidly let herself think in Shire for those few short years…and the consequences could be a thousand times worse than anything her grandfather had ever done.

She clasped her hands in front of her, careful not to clench them into fists, and lowered her eyes to the surface of the desk. “I know of nothing in my personal, or family, history that would suggest an issue with…conception.”

She stumbled over the last word, and felt her face grow hot again as humiliation flooded her. This was the last thing she wanted to be discussing with someone, let alone Thrain.

At the same time, her mind couldn’t help but catch on the word conception. Conception meant a baby, Thorin’s baby. A baby who would have a father that openly loved another woman. A baby with her grandfather and Thrain as family. With relatives like Beatrice and her aunts on one side, and the Durins who couldn’t stand her on the other.

With her as the mother.

“Could you be any more stupid?”

“Trust Bilba to screw up the simplest things.”

“Take some pride in your appearance. You dress like a commoner.”

“That dress is far too short. You dress like a tramp.”

“No one will want you if you don’t shape up, Bilba. Why can’t you be more like Beatrice? She at least makes an effort.”

Her aunts had been wrong on that last one at least, Bofur had wanted her.

Or, at least…he had.

The words wormed their way into the base of her brain, spoken in a tone that sounded suspiciously like that of her Aunt Lobelia. Bofur had wanted her, before he really got to know her…

Would he have gotten tired of her? Had he gotten tired of her, and simply been too kind to say so?

Was he relieved she was gone?

Thrain had gone completely still, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Were you not checked before being chosen?” His voice was deceptively calm, and Bilba felt a chill run down her spine. Her grandfather would get like that, outwardly calm when he was inwardly seething.

“I’ve had medical exams before.” One very recently, in fact. Thrain seemed unaware of the injuries Thorin had sustained rescuing her, a fact for which she was extremely grateful. She didn’t want to know how he’d react to such news.

“Is this it then?” Thrain asked. “Why your grandfather was so adamant I marry one of his granddaughters to my heir?”

Bilba gaped in confusion. “Your Majesty?”

Thrain made a slicing motion with his arm and then slammed the desk a second time. “Gerontious!” He roared, face nearly purpling with sudden rage. Bilba tensed as he rounded his desk and advanced on her, pushing a finger in her face. “This is his plan, isn’t it? He seeks to undermine me, prevent my line from continuing!”

Bilba crossed her arms and tried not to look like she was leaning away from him. A low sense of panic began to beat in the back of her mind. This wasn’t her grandfather; she didn’t know how to navigate his rages. The right words to say to placate him.

She didn’t know the ways in which he would take out his anger on her.

Thrain spun away from her suddenly, and she flinched at the sudden movement. An almost otherworldly sense of detachment began to fall over her, allowing her to observe the scene almost as if she were somewhere else.

She really wanted to be somewhere else.

Thrain dropped into his chair and slapped a button on his desk. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar answered, and Thrain began speaking in rapid, clipped Khuzdul, the native language of Erebor.

The other voice answered in the same language and the two began to engage in what sounded like an argument, words flying back and forth so fast that Bilba doubted she’d have understood even if she’d been fluent in the language.

Thrain slapped the button again, cutting the other person off mid-word and settled back in his seat, the wood cracking loudly in the silent room. “Go to Oin,” he said flatly, that strange calm once more draping over him like a shroud. “He will establish your suitability.”

Behind her, the door opened with a rush of air and Bilba turned to see two guards she didn’t recognize step inside the room.

Thrain must have summoned them somehow for he waved a hand at her as if shooing an insect. “They will escort you in case you attempt to circumvent my command.” His eyes darkened and he barked an order that had Soren appearing from somewhere in the corridor as if he’d sprouted from the floor itself.

“Escort her to Oin,” he ordered. He glowered at her. “Nori will meet you there to witness and ensure my orders are followed.”

A mix of both hot and cold washed over Bilba at the mention of the palace Spymaster. Images of a small, dark room and a deep, hollow voice stirred in her mind and she had to bite back a whimper.

She barely noticed one of the guards taking her by the arm to lead her out of the room. The guards always took her by the arm to lead her places she didn’t want to go. It barely registered that it was even happening to her, like she’d stepped out of her own body and was watching things happen to someone else.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hall that her head began to pound, and her stomach clenched with nausea. Her heartrate spiked, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She pulled away, or perhaps staggered away from the guard holding her and collapsed against the wall, mouth open as she gasped for breath. She sank to a crouch, arms wrapped around herself. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and black spots swam in her vision.

She didn’t want to be here. They were going to hurt her. They were going to lock her in the tower again. She’d have to go see the Spymaster. She hated the guards, hated them. They were supposed to protect her, but they never did. Not once. No one ever did. It was just her, always just –

Hands grabbed her shoulders, and Bilba jerked. She’d put her head down on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, and her head snapped up so fast that she cracked it into the wall behind her. Pain bloomed through the base of her skull, and tears rushed to her eyes as her emotions proved entirely unable to handle it.

Ori, she recognized through her blurring vision, it was Ori in front of her. The other woman was talking, but Bilba couldn’t hear her through the roaring in her head. Ori gave her a light shake and Bilba focused on the movement of the other woman’s lips.

Look at me, Bilba. Come on, look at me. All right, now breathe, okay? Just breathe. In, and out, in and out. That’s it, you can do it. Just focus on me and breathe.

Slowly, the roaring in her ears lessened until she could make out the actual words Ori was saying. Her breathing began to even, and her heartrate started to settle.

She became aware of the fact she was in a hall she didn’t recognize, one that was completely clear of any other people except her, Ori, and Cerys standing several feet further down the hall. Even the guards and Soren were gone, though how Ori had managed that she couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Are you okay?” Ori asked. “What in Durin’s beard did Thrain do to you?”

Bilba didn’t answer. She struggled to her feet, using the wall as a brace. “It’s nothing,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “It’s fine.”

She didn’t want Thrain thinking she was complaining about him. Her grandfather used to accuse her of that, regardless of if she’d done it or not. He’d scream at her and insist she was lying until she broke down and admitted to things she hadn’t done just to get him to stop.

“Sure it’s fine,” Ori grumbled as she wrapped an arm around Bilba’s waist. “That’s why you’re having a panic attack in the hallway.”

“I have to go see Oin,” Bilba mumbled, eyes fixed on her feet. She did her best to not think about why she had to go see Oin, or who else would be there when she arrived. Instead she tried to focus on the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she would end up being unable to conceive.

If she couldn’t, then the marriage could be annulled, and she could go to Gondor. Her grandfather would never allow it, but she could get there, she was sure, before he ever knew. Thorin would let her. He wouldn’t care where she went, so long as she went. Arwen would let her come, and then maybe she could finally feel safe…assuming her grandfather didn’t come after her and…and…

Her mind derailed as she realized they’d been moving while she’d tried to delude herself, and now they were standing outside the doors she recognized from that last time she’d been there, just after nearly getting Thorin killed.

Funny, how when she’d gotten up that morning, she’d thought the worst she’d have to deal with was breakfast with Ori, and the soreness in her side. Ori’s fingers were accidentally pressing into the bruised area, sending dull bursts of pain cascading through her, but Bilba didn’t comment on it.

The door slid open and they walked in, Ori alongside her and Cerys just behind her. The first person Bilba saw was Nori, standing in the center of the room and, without thinking about it, she unwound her arms to wrap one of them around Ori.

Bilba was surprised by her own reaction. Ori was Nori’s sister, and the wife of the Captain of the Guard. She was the last person Bilba should ever want to turn to. Ori had all the power she could want through her husband and brother, but Bilba seriously doubted she’d use any of it to help her.

All these people, Thorin and Kyra and Ori, had all grown up together. They’d been through the exile, the retaking of the kingdom, through experiences and memories that had bonded them together in an unbreakable way that would never, ever include her.

Perhaps Ori was supporting her right then, but if it ever came down to a choice between an interloping princess and someone Ori had known her entire life, Bilba knew she would lose every time.

“Why are you here?” Ori asked in surprise, eyes narrowing at her brother. “Do you know what Thrain did to upset Bilba?”

“You know how the king can be,” Nori said mildly. He inclined his head toward Bilba. “Your Highness, if you’d head right through that door,” he nodded toward the room where she’d had her original exam. “Dr. Belarius is already waiting.”

“Belarius?” Ori asked in surprise. “Why did you call her in?”

“Her?” The tiniest burst of relief raced through Bilba. She’d rather not do any of this at all but, if she had to, she’d prefer it be a woman.

She hesitated and pulled free from Ori and stepped forward. She started to move toward the door, but stopped again, unsure as Nori stayed where he was.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him. Shire’s Spymaster would have already made some remark or another, innocent on the surface but with some barb so cleverly hidden it was impossible for anyone to say if he’d really intended it.

Nori gave her a surprisingly reassuring smile. “Go ahead, Your Highness. I’ll wait out here.”

Bilba didn’t know how to respond to that. Sure, it looked as if he was doing her a kindness, but she’d lived far too long in the shadow of her grandfather to take anything at face value. The Thrain had ordered him to witness her being tested, did he plan to blackmail her with the fact he hadn’t?

Yavanna, but she’d forgotten how it was to be around royalty and their retainers. It wasn’t just watching everything she said and did, but everything everyone else said and did as well. It was like a chess game where she constantly had to be five steps ahead, and every misstep was punished.

It was exhausting. She wanted to go back to bed. It was the only time she could truly escape from it all, off into a dream where royalty and her grandfather didn’t exist, and she was back with Rosie and Bofur again.

Nori didn’t appear inclined to give her any indication of his motivation so, with a sigh, she turned and walked through the doors into the small room beyond.

The faster she could get through this the sooner it could be over with and behind her.

And maybe, just maybe, she could start packing to go to Gondor.

Or just…go back to sleep.

For just a little while.

***

Ori smiled brightly as Bilba vanished.

The second the doors slid close the smile dropped off her face, and she whirled to face her brother. “Start talking.”

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

#Writing #My writing #fanfiction #fanfic #LOTR #Hobbit #Tolkien #Female Bilbo #Female Bilbo Baggins #AU #Modern #Angst #Arranged Marriage #Bagginshield #Romance #Slow Burn