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footprintsinthesxnd · 4 months

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I’ll Wait For You

Hey anon, thank you so much for your adorable request. I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy. The best way to kick off the New Year? A Eugene Roe fic of course. Happy New Year everyone! Warnings: mentions of injury, family death, destruction of homes, themes of war, weapons.

Eugene couldn’t remember the last time his heart hadn’t been pounding out of his chest. Ever since they’d jumped on D-Day his heart had been beating like a trapped bird flapping its wings against his ribcage. He didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline; or both. He could safely say that he was scared, many of the men wouldn’t admit it and as their medic, he wouldn’t show it, but he was scared, scared for himself and his friends. It was normal to be scared. Yet Eugene had never seen anyone as scared as the large blue-eyed civilian girl looking up at him and Liebgott.

“What do we have here?” Liebgott had all but sneered, pointing his M1 at a terrified civilian. Eugene felt himself smacking the gun away from her, “Leave her be. She’s a civilian. What da hells wrong wit’ you.”

Liebgott quickly lost interest in the situation once Eugene took a protective stance in front of her, and hurried off to join Webster and a few of the others that had crowded in the square.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt ya,” Gene spoke softly as he knelt beside her, his hands raised and his eyes not leaving hers. She backed further away from him, tears trickling down her cheeks as she mumbled something.

“What was that? Whatcha say?”

The girl mumbled again and Eugene’s demeanour quickly softened. She didn’t understand English, of course, she didn't, she was speaking French.

“C'est bon. Je ne te ferai pas de mal,” Eugene spoke again trying to reassure her he was no threat and this time the girl looked up at him, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tu parles français?” She asked, no longer looking as though she was about to fly out of the nearest open door.

“Je suis à moitié cajun. Toute ma famille parle français,” Eugene explained, glad that he was able to calm her down in her mother tongue. He could only imagine the horrors she had witnessed and then hiding in an abandoned house during the siege on Caretan too. He could only imagine.

“As-tu une famille? Que faites-vous ici?”

She shook her head and he wondered if he’d crossed the line by asking too much about her family.

“My family are all dead. I came here to be with my Aunt but the Germans had got to her first,” tears began to trickle silently down her cheeks again and Eugene felt himself reaching forward to place his hand on her shoulder, she didn’t pull away, instead leaning into his touch.

“I have no one left,” she muttered and now it was Eugene’s turn to look shocked.

“You speak English?”

“A little,” she admitted, “not a lot.”

Eugene couldn’t help but smile at her. She truly was pretty, her eyes striking against her pale skin, and despite the soot that covered her cheeks Eugene didn’t think he’d ever seen a girl so beautiful.

She moved a little and let out a small whimper which caused Eugene to lurch forward. “Are ya hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied, clutching her calf which was now smeared with blood, her other bloody hand raised against her chest protectively.

“What happened to ya?” Eugene asked, digging into his musette bag and pulling out a sachet of sulfa powder and a bandage. He didn’t hesitate to wrap the bandage around her thigh, pushing her dress out of the way without a second thought. She was a patient, so why should he treat her any differently, although his growing red in response told a different story.

“Tu es très doux,” the girl mused, watching as Eugene’s hands worked quickly, wrapping her leg securely. Eugene hummed in amusement, no one had ever told him he was gentle before, certainly none of the other paratroopers. “It’s true,” she repeated and giggled as Eugene’s cheeks blushed a deeper shade of red. He quickly moved on, bounding her hand, avoiding her eye contact as she watched him work.

“You should be all set,” Eugene leaned back on his feet. “Can ya try and keep off it for a few days at least?”

“I can try but I’m trying to get to a family friend's house. It’s only a few miles down the road. I’m hoping they will take me in,” she looked down at her scuffed shoes, unable to face the truth that she really was alone now.

“How about we give ya a lift? We got plenty of trucks. I can ask the Lieutenant,” Eugene added hurriedly, he didn’t know why but he desperately wanted to help this girl and yet he didn’t even know her name.

The girl just nodded, watching as Eugene stood and hurried away.

A few days later Eugene found himself passing by the quaint town they had dropped the injured girl off to. He was busying himself in an abandoned barn patching up one of the young Private's shoulders. The boy was whining and moaning at the mere flesh wound and Eugene found himself losing patience with him.

“Will ya just stay still?” Eugene grumbled, pushing his elbow firmly into the boy to steady him. The boy continued to complain but Eugene ignored him, too caught up in his work. The other paratroopers often commented on how he generally focused on the wound instead of the patient, of course, he offered words of comfort when required but he felt the attachment unnecessary. Eugene had never intended to be a medic, it was thrust upon him during training and so he had embraced his calling. He would hold the lives of his fellow paratroopers in his hands, thus denying him the ability to become attached, because if he became attached, became their friends, their brothers, well it would make it all the harder when he lost them.

A muffled voice behind him caused Eugene to turn, seeing the familiar figure in the doorway. He dismissed the private, instructing him to rest as much as possible. He whipped his hands in the spare cloth he carried, “How’s da leg?”

“It is okay. I try to rest it when I can,” she smiled at him and Eugene found his heart beating a little faster.

“Good. That’s good. How’s da hand?”

“It is good too,” she laughed, limping across the barn towards him with a basket tucked under her arm. “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for the other day, for your kindness.”

“Please, there ain’t no need. It’s ma job,” Eugene protested but the girl silenced him, placing her fingers to his lips.

“No, your job is to look after the soldiers, looking after me was an act of kindness.”

Eugene blushed, his eyes going cross-eyed as he watched the placement of her finger on his lips.

“Thank you,” she quickly removed his finger and pecked his lips. It was barely a kiss, his mind barely registering the action before it was over. The blush covering their cheeks and the smile on both their lips meant everything.

“I also bought you some food, it’s not a lot but you can share it with your friends if you wish,” she passed the basket towards him and Eugene gratefully accepted.

“Your kindness is too much Ma’am, how will I ever repay ya?”

“You saved my life, it is I who should be in your debt,” she replied, a delighted smile playing at her lips, as Eugene thought of a reply.

“Well, what about if I write to ya and umm… you can write to me too if you’d like,” Eugene watched nervously as the girl thought over his proposition.

“Oui. I would like this very much,” she grinned at him, before throwing her arms around his neck. “And maybe after the war is over you will come back, back here to see me again?”

“Of course, if you’ll wait for me.”

“I will wait for you,” she replied adamantly, nodding her head and Eugene felt himself smiling again. He’d never felt this way before about anyone but this girl he’d stumbled upon seemed to change that and he didn’t want her to leave.

“Wait! Ma’am, I don’t even know ya name. Will ya at least tell me that?”

She smiled at him mischievously before replying, “Write to me first American Boy, then I know you are true to your word. Then you may have my name.”

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #easy company

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twistedroseytoesy · 1 year

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Hi!

I'd like to be called 🍬 anon!

Could I request Savanaclaw with a quokka reader?

These little guys are the cutest things ever!

Oh, oh my gosh those little fellas! The happiest little creatures with award winning smiles! I absolutely would love to do this 🍬 anon!

Also image of an adorable little fella just under the cut

Description

you and your family happily lived on an island near the Sunset Savanna but technically outside of its rulings. you and the other Quokka beast folk lived happy lives, trading and bartering goods and trading goods with the mainland but not really needing a lot of money. Everyone gets along and everyone on the small island works together to make sure everyone else is safe and happy. You and your family were rather small but you never minded and always loved taller company. You have cute small little ears in your messy brown hair, with cute brown eyes and a continuous smile. you are about 4 feet tall, with dark skin and a short little tail. the tips of your hands and feet were slightly darker than the rest of your body and you had small little claws.

Savanaclaw

Leona: Tch, think those cute looks are going to get you pity from him your right wrong. He tries to ignore you a lot, but can't help but poke some fun at you since your reactions are just so cute. Though if anyone messes with you when he's nearby be prepared to be taken to be his nap buddy, his tail swishing angrily at someone messing with what he's now claimed. you were picked on a lot at the beginning but luckily after his overblot, Leona stepped up his leadership a bit and made sure to tell the other savanaclaw members t knock it off. he also never made you do spell drive practice, "you're too small to be any help" he would tell you. but for 1 he wants to show off to you on the sidelines, and 2 he knows how dangerous spelldrive can be and he would actually feel BAD if you got hurt. If you somehow become friends with him expect to be his nap buddy often, calls you his cute little plush. but only in private, Ruggie likes to chuckle at you two. Leona may never say it out loud but if you are observant you can tell he thinks you're cute, and he wants to protect you. will wake up only for you, also falls for your puppy eyes so bad don't tell anyone.

Ruggie: shihhihi well aren't you the cutest little thing? careful since a lot of beasts around would love to take a bite outa you. takes you under his wing, for a price of course. but honestly, you remind him of the kids from his village he would take care of. gets you to help him with some stealing, you distract them with your cuteness and he gets the goods. Eventually, he starts to share his food with you and protect you with no repayment required. Of course, from him, you learn a lot of good scavenging habits and self-defense. He honestly is so proud of you when you take down a bigger guy or weaponize your cuteness like how he taught you. He also uses you to get Leona out of bed. even Leona isn't immune to your little begging eyes! shihihihi. will feel betrayed if you turn those adorable eyes on him but he also can't say no to you...

Jack: Immediately was reminded of his younger siblings back at home and became unbelievably protective of you. Tsundere wolf style. he tries to stay near you and will fight anyone who tries to take advantage of you and your cuteness. He does smirk when you weaponize your cuteness, he will introduce you to epel also because you two are pretty similar. can't say no to you. Would rather die than admit it though. He tries to train you to be able to defend yourself if and when anyone tries to mess with you. his tail wags a lot when you're being really cute and you love and help him with his little cacti collection. He's proud of any accomplishments you do and likes to have you on his shoulders, it makes you smile so much and he can't help but smile too.

#🍬 anon #my writing #my stuff #savanaclaw #leona x reader #ruggie x reader #jack x reader #ruggie #jack #leona #leona kingscholar #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twst x reader #twisted wonderland mc #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst

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writing-fanics · 1 year

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⁂ starry eyed ⁂

✦ Hunter X Collector!Reader ✦

[Chapter Four: I'm Back]

previous chapter > final chapter

“Y/n? Yoo-hoo! You can come out now. Well, it's okay, she just broke, so I'll fix her.” The Collector says, he snaps his fingers but the spell dissipates

“What? Why isn't it working? The Archivists aren't here, they couldn't have taken her.” Belos aims another beat at the Collector. King suddenly roars and defends the Collector, conjuring a round shield with glyph patterns on it. His eyes have become purple and extra fangs have appeared in his jaw. A blue light glows in his mouth and tears flow down his face as he roars again.

“Owl Lady, you know where my Y/n is, right?” He asks, looking at Eda, having only known [Y/n], for such a short amount of time already seemed to care for the young girl. But seeing, how upset Luz was, “Back up, kid. I don't think I can control myself right now.” Eda roars and grows in size and reverts to her original Owl Beast form. Her eyes have become orange and has extra sets of wings. Roaring again, she joins King and they attack Belos. King releases his power and they avoid the blasts. Terrified, The Collector trips, causing him to let go the star.

“She's really gone.” The Collector says, looking down at the necklace in his hands, his sister was gone.

A star floats into the In-Between Realm and settles into the water. From it, Y/n’s body reappears adn she sinks into the water. “I hope he’ll forgive me,” She thought, a hand grabs her arm and pulls her before she goes any further.

“King?” She said, looking up at him, and he chuckles, “No. But he does get his good looks from me.” Papa Titan says, and she looks at him in shock. “Oh, Titan.” She says, sadly and he looks at her, “Oh, me. Nice to meet you, Y/n the Collector.” He says, looking at her and she looks at him.

“Haven’t seen you since you trapped my brother and I here,” She said, looking up at him. “Dead-looking?” He said, and she looks at him, “Does that mean I'm also—” She asks, and he looks at her, “Ah, no, nope, no. Don't wanna do that. If you go under without a portal, you really will be dead-looking.” He says, and she looks down.

“So you’re King's dad!” She says, looking at him, “I think King said it best once. "I am both King and Queen, best of both things." He says, and she smiled softly, as he chuckles, “But Dad works fine.” He says.

“Even though I’m dead this is the last place I wanted to end up back in.” She said, sadly looking down. “About that.. Sorry.” He said, and she looked over at him and smiled, “It’s okay, you were protecting your child..But to be honest. I knew what my siblings were doing.” She said, looking down.

“That’s why they sent me down here with my sibling, and-” She shook her head, “Looking back if anyone deserved to be trapped here its me and not him.” She said, shaking her head.

“Despite that, even though I want to mend my relationship with him. When I saw him fly up to Belos, I hoped with all my heart I would see them blast him away, and—” She sighs, looking down at her hands. She couldn’t believe what she was saying.

Papa Titan looked at her sadly, “Hey, I can relate. I was willing to do anything to keep my kid safe. But I attacked the wrong people.” He said, and she looked at him, “Dragged you and the Collector down here for nothing.” He said, and she looked at him.

“Does that make us as bad as Belos?” She asked, looking at him.

“What? Have you been drinking Eda's homemade Apple Blood?” He said, and she looked away, “Well, Belos says he's trying to save humanity. And we are saying we want to save our families. So isn't that the same thing? Don't—Don't these feelings come from the same place?” She asked, looking at him.

“You assume Belos's goal comes from a genuine place. But that man doesn't care about about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion. And because of that, he fears what he can't control.” He says, looking at her. “And now that fear is going to win.” She says,

“Ah, dang.” He says, and she gaps as she sees Papa Titan’s chest is being affected by Belos’ possession. “I thought I had more time left. But Belos will have full control soon. You ready to stop him?” He asks, looking at her and she raises her eyebrow, “What? What can I do?” She askes, looking at him.

“Think of it as an apology. So let me use my last bit of life to help you.” He says, as he extends his hand. On it, varius glyphs appear. “But if you do you’ll no longer be a collector.” he said.

“Are you sure you wanna give this power to me?” She asks, looking at him, “Well, you're the one here, and you seem like a Collector.” He says, and she looks at him, “But I can't give you anything unless you choose to accept it. So the question is, will you choose yourself?” He asks, and she thinks for a moment, she’d be sacrificing her being a Collector living forever. But did she want that, to watch as the ones she’s grown to love fade away Hunter, she sees him more than a friend? She didn’t want to lose him again.

She takes his hand and a golden orb surrounds her. She starts to float up. “Now, Belos will be able to control everything, so you have to defeat him fast.” He says, and she looks down at him. She knew, King always wanted to learn about his father, “But-” She says, and looks down at him.

“My power won't last forever, so use your time wisely.” He says, and she keeps floating up, “Oh, but what about -” She says, looking at him, “Eda the Owl Lady?’ He says, and salutes, “Send her my regards, big fan.” He says.

She reaches out and holds on to Papa Titan’s claw to keep from being sent further upward, “No, King, what about King? Don't you wanna say something to him?” She asks, and he thinks for a moment, then whispers something in her ear. She’s excited by what she hears, “Oh. He'll love that.” She says, and chuckles, Papa Titan takes on his larger form and starts to sink into the water his body slowly sinks until it finally disappears.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” He says.

The Collector Room in the Archive, Camila begins to wake when Gus holds a light spell above her. Gus deactivates the light spell. He gasps, “She's waking up!” She says, and the others look at Camila. Gus helps her get to a sitting position as she repositions her glasses. “Wha—what's happening? Where's Luz and Y/n?” She asks, and everyone's facial all drop as she asks this.

“Uh—” Gus says, Camila is now nervous. Meanwhile, everyone hears rumbling not far from them, and they all look to see the walls and ceiling begin to collapse. Amity tries to shield themself with abomination matter, but it does not take form and falls on top of her.

“What's wrong with my magic?” Amity says, and Camila stands up and walks to Amity, “Can't you tell? You're exhausted. You all are! None of you have gotten rest in days.” Camilas says, and Willow looks at her.

“But what can we do? We can't leave everyone like this.” Willow says, looking at everyone, “And what about Luz?” Hunter says, and Amity’s face saddens, “and Y//n?” Willow says, and Hunter’s face saddens as well.

“Luz is a Noceda. You know what that means? It means she's way too stubborn to let any of this get her down.” Camila says, and puts her arm around Amity who blouses at the mention of Luz.

Camila notices Hunter’s sad and worried expression, “Same for Y/n,” She says, looking at Hunter. Everyone looks at each other and smiles, knowing Camila is right. “They'll be okay.” She says, tears had welled up in her eyes.

“In the meantime,” She wipes away her tears, “I think I know how we can help, even without your magic.” She says, smiling.

Eda and King fight Belos’ monster form. They are still in a state of rage. As Eda and King, fight and Belos fires, The Collector hides alongside Luz. [Y/n]’s necklace is sent flying near them. He attempts to desolate the battle. “No, please stop! Run away!” He pleads, snapping his fingers but nothing happens.

“Why isn't anything working?” He says, and notices the moss growing onto his hands. “I don't want anyone else to go away. I don't want anyone else to go missing! I'm sorry for everything!” He starts crying and feels his face, noticing the tears.

Luz looked at him sadly, “What is this stuff? Why-why won't it stop?” He cries, and then he notices the moss growing onto Eda’s claws, and he and Luz. Desperately brushes it off

“No! No, no, no, no! Get off of her!” He cried, and the Collector gets scared, when Belos prepares to crush them with his hand. He brings is hand down, but the beam of purple light deflects it. When the light clears, there is a gaping hole in Belos’ hand. A star shines through. A figure can be seen with an appearance similar to a titan.

The fog clears revealing that it is [Y/n]. Eda, King, Luz, and The Collector are all in shock.“Huh? It can't be—” The Collector says, in shock, [Y/n] looks up at Belos in her new Titan Collector form, “I'm back!” She shouted, grinning. Eda, King, Luz, and The Collector all stare at her in awe and shock.

She glares at Titan Belos, “Now, Belos..” She said, grinning mischievously, “Lets play a game!” She shouted, and Belos roars in anger. Causing everything to shake, inclusive the Archives. [Y/n] creates a glowing orb around her, King, Eda, Luz, and the Collector. It shoots up suddenly in erratic motions. “Oops, never had this much power before.” She said, sheepishly.

Belos roars and the Archives shake precariously, “Oh no, everyone's still in the Archives.” Eda says, and The Collector looks up at her, “Leave them to me.” He says, he jumps onto his blue star and flies off. He notices the mold progressively getting worse.

“Come on, you can at least do this.” He says, to himself.

Eda, Luz, King, and [Y/n] travel to the stage below the Archives. The mold approaches quickly and takes form of monstrous faces. [Y/n] starts a spell, but struggles to make it. She’s never held this much power before especially not the Titan’s since his would always cancel her powers out since she was a collector. But Eda and Luz’s hand guides her. “Concentrate, think of what you want and—” Eda says, and the spell manifests into a large shield. The moss bounces off of it and curls upward. Luz, Eda, and [Y/n], push it forward and it eradicates the moss. Red grass takes over and shines the arena/

“Yes!” Luz chuckles, the moss appears on multiple sides, Y/n! On three! One—” King says, and she smiles. “Two!” [Y/n] says. “Weh!” [Y/n] and King shouted, they are able to get rid of most of the moss. The rest of it starts to engulf the roof of the arena. [Y/n] and King smile at each other.

“Eda!” Luz shouts, and flies upwards on Stringbean with King in tow and indicates Eda to follow her and [Y/n]. [Y/n] smiles, and she spins creating a giant star that clears the entire area. THey notice a looming shadow adn realize the left arm of the Titan is rising.

“Hold on.” [Y/n] says, and she flies up.

In the Archives, Amity rescues Cat using a plant glyph as a giant rock falls above her, which Willow destroys with a fire glyph. Amity and Willow smile at each other. Camila continuously draws various glyphs and hands some off to Hunter. Gus is on his staff holding Amelia over hsi shoulder before a stray rock hits him and he falls. Gus uses a safety spell to gently fall and Hunter saves Gus’s palisman by using an ice glyph.

Hunter carries Amelia away as Gus flies off with more glyphs in hand. Everything violently shoes again, causing the castle to lose its support at the Titan’s horn. They panic as they plummet, but pink strings manifest and hold it up. The Collector is seen straining to hold the structure up. The gang stares in shock as he smiles down at them.

“The Collector?” Hunter says, and his heart sinks for a moment seeing the Collector wearing [Y/n]’s necklace. “Is he—?” Willow says, looking up at him, “He's helping!” Gus says.

[Y/n] looks down and sees where the magic is coming from, she flies down toward the heart of Titan. Rainewhispers caught in the moss. They are whistling their version of Eda’s Requiem in order to halt the moss’s growth. Their glasses have fallen off, and a purple beam of light can be seen. “Who's there? Stay away!” They struggles in the moss’s hold a hand and puts their glasses back on.

“It's okay Raine, I got ya.” Eda says, she pulls Raine out of the moss and hugs them.

“I am— still not used to this new look, but it doesn't matter.” They said, as she kisses Raine while they embrace, “I'm just happy you're here.” They said, noticing [Y/n] standing next to Luz’ “How long was I out for?” They said, and [Y/n] looks down notices the Titan’s power starting to fade.

“We don't have much time. Let's end this.” Luz says.

“Finally,” Raine says they clear a path to the throne room in the castle. They see Belos’ form in the heart and prepare for an onslaught. Luz and [Y/n], launch spells that destroy the upcoming branches of mold, then summon a set of ice stars and climb to the heart. They both grab Belos’ ribcage and start pulling.

“You can't defeat me!” Belos shouted, a large number of hands manifest and attempt to hurt Luz and [Y/n]. Eda slices them up with her harpy magic. Raine whistles at the moss causing it to retreat. King releases his powers and helps to protect, Luz and [Y/n].

“Do not underestimate me, Belos. For I am the Good Witch Luz, Child of the Human Realm, Student of the Demon Realm, and Warrior of Peace!” Luz Shouted,

“Do not underestimate me, Belos. For I am the Collector Y/n, Child of the Stars,” Y/n shouted, her eyes glowing orange and various glyphs manifest around her hands. The Titan yells in agony and everything shakes again. The Collector struggles to hold up the Archives. Eda, Raine, and King continuously attack.

“NOW EAT THIS, SUCKA!” [Y/n] and Luz shouted, as they successfully tore Belos out of the heart and everything falls silent as their screams echo into the silence. The monster Belos outside the heart screams in agony as its heart emits a flash of purple and blue and black lights and it explodes. The Titan’s hand is stabilized as a rush of energy runs through it.

The Titan’s eyes lose color and turn off. Back in the castle, the monster turns to stone and eventually turns into dust. And is blown away along with the mold. Thus restoring the red grass across the isles. The Archives building is slowly lowered down to the Titan’s head. The pink strings disappear and a tired Collector flies to where Camila and the others are. The blue stars disappear as the moss around his hands slowly begins to fade away.

Amity steps closer as the Collector recoils in fear. Amity then offers her hand out to him. He takes it, and small tears form in his eyes. They all rush to the balcony as they stare in awe as the moss slowly clears up. Back at the castle, the molds also start to clear up one by one. Raine, Eda, and King burst out of the moss. King gasps for air as Rain and Eda look at each other as she smiles.

[Y/n] is then standing in front of Belos’ goo form, which slowly turns into Philip. “Y/n— Y/n, I'm- I'm free. Thank goodness you saved me from-” Phillip pauses his speech as he sweats nervously, “From that horrible curse.” He says nervously. She just stared at him, with blankly stare.

“Yes, I-I was cursed with a terrible, terrible sickness, by— by dark magic,” He says, as he speaks, the sky slowly turns dark, signaling the fall of boiling rain.

“It forced me to do all those horrible things, but-but now, I'm free.” He says, a drop of boiling rain falls and he screams in pain, the part where the rain touched him on the hand becoming green. Boiling ran starts to fall from the sky.

“AH! Qui-Quickly, now!” he says, nervously she just stared at him as he crawls towards her begging, for his help. “Don't- Don't you want- to make peace - Y/n?” He asks, and she stares at him, she’d never forgive him never. Betraying her brother, manipulating others, possessing her, and hurting Hunter and her friends.

He slowly reverts back to his goo form due to the boiling rain. Her expression remains unfazed, the rain turning to sparkles in her hair as the boiling rain does not affect her. “Don't just stand there!” He shouts, his body decomposing fully, she crawls towards her, “You'll be just as bad, just as conniving, just as evil, and just as unforgivable as those Archivists!” He says, and she stares at him as he holds onto her leg.

“We're human. We're better than this!” He says, and she takes a step back. A scowling Rain, King, and Eda step in front of her as they handle Belos, the trio under the protection of the magical lead Raine had conjured.

“Well, we ain't!” Eda says, angrily. The tri raise their feet and stimp Belos repeatedly, bringing him to his end. “That was extremely satisfying.” Raine says, looking over at Eda. “Ew, it's on my claws!” King groaned, Raine feels the sun outside and they shut down their leaf. A glowing light comes from behind them as [Y/n] glows adn floats, her power from the Titan finally released. The energy manifests into the form of the Titan, Rain, King, Luz, and Eda stare in shock.

“Is that—” Raine says.

“I think it is.” Eda says, and looks to King, “Dang kid, you do have tall genes.” She says, to him.

King’s eyes sparkle in wonder as the manifestation of his father flies’s away. [Y/n] returned to her wolf costume. She opens her eyes, but realizing she doesn’t have powers anymore, she falls and screams. Eda and King, run up to catch her as the three lay on the ground side by side, panting. The clouds slowly start to reveal the sun shining as the three look on, their faces steady.

“Oh! Your dad had a message for you.” She says, and whispers to King. “I— loaf you? I loaf you.” He chuckles, “Bread pun!” He exclaims, and everyone laughs. [Y/n] sits up and smiles looking at Luz, “Isn't it amazing? We did it. After everything, after all that— we stuck together.” Luz says, and [Y/n] looks at her and smiles, “Yup, we did alright.” Eda says.

“I'll say.” King says.

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@tinkerbellsgf @supernerdycookietrashblr

#hunter x reader #hunter x you #hunter x y/n #hunter toh x reader #hunter toh x you #hunter toh x y/n #hunter x collector!reader #collector!reader #the owl house #toh x reader

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thenwethrowitonthefire · 3 months

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it doesn't have to be that way.

okay

I need you to know that I've been thinking about this ask non-stop for the last 3 days. This song came for us all and took us under its wing. I live here. It's a gem of a song. (This reply will get very long.)

My first time hearing it was live, as it was for a bunch of us as the album release was at the beginning of the tour. To set the scene, I was obviously really excited for any new songs I'd be hearing that night, and then Russell introduced the song like this:

"This is another brand new song for any of you who feel like maybe you're not on the right course. [He pauses briefly.] It's a song that's called 'It Doesn't Have To Be That Way'."

I was already nearly in tears, and then it started:

They always said that you cannot change your mind, Do it once and you're defined, do it twice and you're divine

...

It doesn't have to be that way, okay?

Every line of the entire song hit me like a brick while also being the most comforting thing I've ever heard. It was beautiful. And coming from the guys who for over a decade have been my personal champions of "things not having to be that way", the guys who are my people, who have by their very existence been telling us all this exact message for all these years. And here it was, in words, aimed at all of us.

They always said that you need to have a plan, Doesn't matter, any plan, any plan they'll understand, It doesn't have to be that way, okay?

... They've not been known to go for songs that bring people to tears, and I'm not known to be the kind of person to listen to songs and cry. And yet here we were.

While I can write an essay on every verse, a part that's especially meaningful to me, as a queer person, as an aspec person, is this:

They always said that it must reflect your life, And incorporate your strife, maybe mentioning your wife, It doesn't have to be that way, okay?

These *are* lines that seem to reflect their life (the entire song seems to, just as it does ours), and they're all things I've always loved so much about them, things that have paved the way for all of us. But I'm going to especially highlight the "maybe mentioning your wife" line. Here we have two (likely) heterosexual men, but they don't bring their love lives to the public eye - very consciously, and by choice. What they do with their lives is all about their music. Their lives are highly meaningful, to them and to so many people, and you don't need amatonormativity or the nuclear family to have a beautifully meaningful life. They show that every day, in all they do. Their work has always attracted many queer people of all sorts for obvious reasons, and it's been so easy to find aspec people among the fans which is a real treat. While they likely both have partners, the beauty is that we don't really know. We don't know that part of their lives and we don't need to know to know them, if they're not telling us it doesn't concern us. There's a lot of people who don't understand this though, people who feel like they don't know who Sparks are as people because these people feel like in order to know who a person is, they need to know their relationship status and whether they have a family. (In reality these people are looking at the wrong things, they're trying to classify and understand life in the only way they know, and therefore they seem to be unable to see what's there.) The added beauty of all this is that it doesn't just gives Sparks some privacy, but also it creates a safe space for all of us who aren't looking to live that way, who aren't looking to build our lives around a romantic partner, for whom the ideal life isn't one where you build a family, or for whom that do wish to live that way but where it isn't the thing that defines you. You don't have to mention a partner or make your life about that. It doesn't have to be that way, okay?

And then there's those parts of the song that go,

I may be wrong, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it,

No chart-bound song, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it,

No sing along, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it

I'll pay for it

Which can be read and felt in a number of ways which all mean so much to me ... There's their own lives in it, where they've always done things their way, where people may tell them to not do things that way, and where it might not work out - I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it. Theres our lives, where we equally all make our decisions, try to just live our own ways to the best of our abilities and where we make mistakes - I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it.

And then, thirdly, to me, there's the feeling to it where they've got our backs. No chart-bound song, no sing along, that can be about an album not becoming the success it was hoped to be, but if you just look at No sing along, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it, to me there's also an aspect of not wishing it upon another - instead carrying it for you, don't sing along. (This feeling feels further supported by the ending of the song, how 'bout a drink, I'll pay for it, it's been too long, I'll pay for it, which to me reads as paying for that drink for your friend so no one has to go through it alone nor without support.)

I'll look uncool, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it

I'll look the fool, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it

I'll look too schooled, I'll pay for it, I'll pay for it

I'll pay for it

The price of authenticity, the price of following your heart and your beliefs. And we all felt that.

As you can tell, this is one really really special song. It had so many of us in tears. We all spoke about it for weeks, I'm still talking about it. It's kind of like Sparks' life concepts we all already understood, that drew us here in the first place, got beautifully distilled into a song. (So much of this recent album has that quality, and it was felt all throughout the entire tour too.)

Every night Russell gave the song a slightly different introduction that hit people right in their heart. There's a quality to it performed live that makes it hit even harder than on the album. I recorded it at every show I've seen. Here's two of them:

youtube

... it especially hits hard when you're near the front, looking at these guys with your big eyes, locking eyes for a second and you know they know. (I also did a quick shot of Ron's Jordans here, seeing him wear them was always a dream of mine and here I was, stood right in front of him seeing him wear Jordans.)

youtube

#thanks again for these asks you've been sending <3 #sorry it took so long to reply. this one means so much that it's hard to translate all the feelings into words #what i feel and what it means is so much more and so much bigger than I can say. but I've tried my best #it's important to me that they're both over 70 too. they don't like mentioning their age. but they're beautifully young guys.#the way they age is another 'it doesn't have to be that way'.#we go through school with the conditioning that we need to have our shit together at 20 and #there's all these beliefs in society that a life is over or stops being worth something at a certain age. it's complete bullshit #they've been going their entire lives. reinventing all the time.#when they were my age they hadn't yet made a lot of the albums that I love the most. it's never too late. You're not old. and never too old #it doesn't have to be that way. okay?#Sparks #Russell Mael #Ron Mael #Sparks (band)#it doesn't have to be that way #The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte #ask #anon

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shamelessfaceless · 19 days

Text

Navigation | Masterlist

Brave Dreams, Bold Moves

Pairings: Azula x Waterbender!F!Reader, Ozai x Waterbender!F!Reader (platonic)

Summary: She gave you a neckles, it's just something that will remind you of your home, right?

Warnings: Ozai (I mean, he needs his own warning), sugestive things near the end, (let me know if theres more)

Wc: 1313

A/n: !!!All characters are aged up!!!

“Lord Ozai.” You greeted him getting on one knee.

“My dear, you don't need to get on your knees, I trust you more than my own son.” He started slowly going to you. You just stood there. Little voice in the back of your head was screaming to run away. Even after spending so many years under his wing, you were scared of him and things he could do to you just because you could look at him in the wrong way. “Little birds told me you started wearing special necklaces.”

“Yes my lord. Special person gave it to me.” Your hand softly touches your neck and dark material.

“Betrothal necklace, such an interesting thing to be gifted.” His tall figure was now in front of you. “I hope one of my best soldiers won’t leave just to have a peaceful life.” His hand reaches to your neck.

“I won't, my lord. I don’t think the person who gave it to me knows its meaning.

“Well, you took it from them. So in my opinion I think you don’t mind marrying that person.” His fingers lightly pull material. “Tell me. Tell me who this lucky guy is. I want to make the person, who helped me so much, happy.”

He wasn’t lying. You were helping him. As a waterbender you mastered healing. Your mother soled you to fire nation against your father’s will when you were only 6. Ozai took care of you, making sure that you will learn healing bending. He wanted to have a healer that would be loyal to him.You healed a lot of his soldiers, and the most important, his daughter. Of course you also mastered waterbending. That was always something people from other nations didn’t expect, because, how could a woman wearing fire benders colors, bend water? Looking at the man that almost raised you, and thinking about what he will say, made you swallow through a knot in your throat.

“It was your daughter, princess Azula.” His eyes moving from your face to the wall. You were ready to die. He may treat you like his own, but Azula is his biological child, the one that will sit on the throne after his death.

“Hm.. Actually, it is the best decision you both could make. One of the best firebenders and one of the best waterbenders. Such a powerful couple. It will be a pleasure to have you officially as a part of my family.”

“But my lord! We don’t even date, and for sure she didn’t even know the meaning behind this when she gave it to me!”

“It doesn't matter, soldier. You accepted it, and you already have my blessing. End of the meeting.”

You didn’t want to argue with him. With shaky legs you left this room heading to your own. Only a few steps later you met Mai, she looked at you and wanted to ask something, but you just ignored her. She was the only person that knew you were going to meet with Oazi. Actually she was the one to tell you he wanted to see you. When you stepped in your safe space you just sat on the bed and let memories from a few days before flood in your head.

“Wake up sleepyhead” You opened your eyes just to see Azual. Usually she wouldn’t even care when you wake up. She was just assuming you were needing this no matter how long you were rotting in your bed. It’s your birthday, so she wanted to give you a little present before she leaves for a few days.

“No thank you.” You mumbled pushing your head between pillows.

“So I guess I will throw your present in the trash. What a shame, It would really suit you.”

You just mumbled some curse words and decided to stand up. Your messy hair, and the fact you were only wearing her oversized shirt and underwear made her heart beat a little faster, of course her face didn't show it. Seeing how long it takes you to get up, she pulled you to her, and started going to the bathroom, still pulling you by your top. She wanted you to close your eyes, and you did it without second thought. Her soft hands on your skin, slowly putting soft material on your neck. When you opened your eyes, and looked in the mirror you saw it. Betrothal necklace.

“Azula…”

“Safe it. When I saw it in things that were found in an abandoned village, I thought it would suit you.” You could see her smile in the mirror. “I know you don’t wear blue anymore, but this necklace looks really good on you. Now sorry, but I need to go, Mai and Ty Lee need help with something, and just after that I'm leaving for a few days.” Her lips slightly brushing your cheeks, and not even a second later, she wasn't there.

“Fucking princess of the Fire Nation” You mumled with red face. Your finger slowly touches the material.

When Azula returned, Oazi was first to meet her.

“My only daughter. I must congratulate you.” She looked at him confused. Why was he congratulating her? In a few weeks she didn’t really do anything.

“I'm sorry, but I don’t really know what you mean Father.”

“You and your sweet little friend. Or maybe I should say your fiancée.” Half smile appeared on his face, knowing well, she didn't know what he was talking about. “You know, in the north water tribe, the necklace you gave Y/N is something you give to the person you want to marry. “And it hit her. She didn't know what to say. How could she be so stupid and not search for the meaning of this stupid necklace!

“But Father! It was just a present! It don't mean anything! I'm sure Y/N don’t take it this way either!”

“You have my blessing. We will discuss everything later.”

It's not like she doesn't want to marry you. Oh she really would love that, but she’s not ready. Only a month before she realized what she felt for you! She had planned a perfect place to confess to you and ask you to date, and now everything is super fucked up. The only thing she could think about is you.

She was sure that her father talked to you by now. Oh how much she was afraid that you would hate her, or you already runned away. But a little voice in the back of her head was telling her if you would mind being hers, you wouldn’t wear the necklace, because for sure you knew the meaning behind this. So she started going to your room. When doors close behind her, you look at her with confusion and a little bit afraid.

“Azula!” You started, and got closer to her, but she only huffed and pushed you on the wall.

“Shut up.” Her lips attacked yours, and you melted feeling how sweet she felt. “Please tell me you don’t mind. I can’t convince my father that it was just a mistake. So please, just tell me you want me like I want you, and you don’t mind getting married to me. “You could promise you saw tears in her eyes. Your first reaction was to kiss her, and you did. Her hand gripping your hips when you pull her hair.

“I want you. I wanted you for so long.” You mumbled in her neck. “Well, engagement before a first date is a little bit crazy but it suits your character. I just hope you don't expect to have children next month. “You joked, and next thing you knew was that your back hit the bed.

“If I could get you pregnant, you would be for sure pregnant by next month.” She whispered in your ear.

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evolutionsvoid · 10 months

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Imagine you are a bird, fluttering through the forest. Zipping through the air with your usual grace, navigating the twisting branches and shrouds of leaves. Finding your way around these woods is a breeze for you, but your sense of direction isn't the thing bothering you right now. It is a rumbling stomach, whining for food. Though your elegant wings give you mastery of the sky, it also burns through your fuel incredibly fast. You need to eat, but what is there to satisfy your appetite? Foraging on the ground is a risky situation, there are many agile and hungry predators down below. Instead, your eyes look to the branches, hoping to spot something tasty. Up there it will be much harder for fang and claw to reach you, especially on the thinner tree limbs. And then you see it! There! Like a lighthouse on a foggy night it cuts through forest's shadow! Fruit, vibrant and succulent! This tree is rife with it, more than enough to fill your belly! You find a free branch to perch upon, right next to a ripe looking meal.

As you hop closer to inspect your meal, the branch bounces and sways. You do not fear it breaking, at least not with your light body. It is better that this branch be precarious, as it means larger hunters cannot approach. A quick look over shows the coast is clear, and your lunch is ready to be served. But as you are about to plunge your beak into the bright colored flesh, the branch shifts bizarrely. Before you can react, something lunges at you and fangs cut through feather and flesh. In an instant, you are crushed and swallowed. "How can this be?" you ask, except wait no you don't you're dead. Okay, before bird you dies you ask yourself "how can this be? I checked my entire surroundings for sign of a possible threat and detected not a thing!" Well to that I say, hold on, I don't think birds talk like that. Yes, I know birds can't talk, I mean if you translated them into our kind of talking, they probably wouldn't sound like that. Bird you would probably be like "SQUAWK! IMPOSSIBLE! SQUAWK!" Ah no, it wouldn't talk like a person and bird at the same time, that is just silly. Now bird you might be thinking- oh forget it! A bird landed on a branch to eat fruit and got eaten instead! You ask what could do that, and I say let me tell you right now!

So one would think that the thing that ate the bird crept up on it while it was investigating its meal, but in truth, it was there the entire time! Bird you, I mean, the bird we followed didn't realize it was already on the branch when it landed! Our subject for this entry is a crafty one, as it uses camouflage to hunt. But if you think the bird would have been safe if it perched on any other branch, you would be wrong! The creature is already there, waiting for its chance to strike! But how? Is it that fast, able to zip from limb to limb in order to pick off prey? Or is the whole tree infested with these nasty predators? Well, no, there is no group of hunters haunting this tree. It is, in fact, one single creature, but one with many arms! Or I guess you could say "heads," since our mystery predator is a kind of hydra!

Due to it being a member of the hydra family, some folk call it a "Wood Hydra" or a "Branching Hydra," but I tend to stick to the name the locals of the region give it: Ladon. It has the usual anatomy found in hydras, with the many beaked tentacles mimicking serpentine heads while the true one lies at the center of it all. It has clawed fins and a long mantle that has stretched into a slithering tail. What sets it apart from its brethren is its gnarled look, where its body and tendrils are covered in twisted, knotted growths. Add in a brown coloration, and you could mistake it for an old twisted tree if you squinted real hard. As the other names suggest, this comparison is intentional! Ladons are ambush hunters, as was shown with the whole bird thing I tried to do. While some other hydras may hide themselves in shadow or burrows, the ladon chooses to hunt in plain sight! What it does is find a tree that shows promise, one that would attract a variety of prey. While each ladon's preferences may vary, the typical choice is a fruiting tree, be it actual fruit or mast. Such a food source ensures that someone is bound to show up, lured by this tempting bait. With its tree selected, the ladon will coil its long thin body around the trunk, aligning itself just right so that it flows with the natural shape of the tree. Next, its beaked tentacles will snake out and entwine themselves around branches with fruit on them. These tendrils target the most bountiful limbs, and are sure to wrap themselves tight so that they practically melt into the bark. Once settled in, the ladon will change it colors and skin texture to better match the tree it is camping out on. When this is done and all has grown still, the hydra practically vanishes before your eyes! I swear I could watch one set itself up on a tree and still have a hard time picking it out when the disguise is fully deployed! It is incredible at how they blend in so well! But it makes sense, because this is how they get food! When a critter lands on the branch or climbs up for some fruit, the tendrils go on high alert. They are incredibly sensitive to movement, not just from the prey but from the branch they are coiled on as well! The ladon uses the bouncing of the branch to pinpoint where its prey is, and also how to move its tentacle so that its presence isn't detected. Thinner branches should have a lot of bend and give to them, but ones supported by a tentacle will be much hardier than usual, which could tip the victim off that something is wrong. However, the ladon masks this by having the tendril follow the natural movements of the branch, letting itself droop or flex with the weight of the new arrival. It is waiting for its prey to get caught up in its meal, and then it strikes. The beaked tips of these tentacles lash out with blinding speed, spearing prey on its claws and then crushing them with a powerful grip. It targets smaller prey like birds, squirrels and monkeys, any critter that would be found clambering about the branches. Since prey is not all that big or strong, the swift "bite" of the tentacle and strong grip is enough to dispatch them. Once this is done, the prey is "swallowed," sent down the hollow core of the tendril where muscle contractions and internal suckers slowly move it down to the true mouth. This method of eating means it doesn't need to uncoil from the tree to feed, which also means it doesn't have to blow its cover every time it snags food. It will simply sit there for weeks on end, eating anything that comes to its precious tree. Old tales claim that a ladon will latch onto a tree and never let go, remaining with it until one of them dies. Some even say death isn't enough to part it from its hunting spot, as they swear its locked muscles will keep the corpse clamped onto the trunk until decay or outside intervention finally pries them off!

While their method of hunting is certainly ingenious, it does cause some obvious problems when it comes to dealing with locals. It turns out, many other species like fruit trees, species that are way bigger then a little songbird and more armed too. Folks who go out to gather fruits and nuts in the woods may be in for a shock when the tree they decide to pick from fights back. When it feels threatened, it will use its tentacles to snap at foes, biting at them like a hidden viper. The gnarled protrusions can even harden too, making their limbs spiky and painful if they whack you with one. With this, ladons are often seen as minor threats or pests, with people quick to scare them off or dispatch them if they latch onto a popular tree. However, some folk actually like this behavior! I have heard that certain orchards actually keep ladons around, because they help eat other pests that may gobble up their precious crop! And when it comes time for picking, these creatures actually let the owners collect their fruit unharmed, as they have developed a kind of agreement. The orchard owner will let them have their tree and eat all the birds and squirrels they want, even throwing some extra morsels their way from time to time. In return, the ladon doesn't perceive the farmer as a threat, and thus lets them work on the tree without attack. Don't think, however, that that means any person can just pick from this orchard for free, as the hydra is only accustomed to the usual orchard workers. Any intruders will be met with biting tentacles, and that is just the way the farmer likes it! Extra security for their crop! It is pretty clever, though I feel it can be a bit mean. Yes, you don't want people picking your orchard clean, but couldn't you spare a few apples for a hungry soul? That might just be the dryad in me talking, but I feel such trees provide enough that this bounty can be shared! But then again orchards are usually businesses, and I recall businesses aren't exactly the sharing type... Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------

“Ladon”

Oh hey hydra! Would you look at that?

#ladon #hydra #monster #creature #cephalopod #octopus #squid #art #drawing

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ddostoyevskyy · 1 year

Text

❝𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐍’ 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒❞ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄: The Act Of Bravery!

Nakahara Chuuya

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... I finally have the courage to continue this, haha. Anyway, I’d like to point out the way I wrote TLOA and Guns' 'N Roses. Both are from such a brutal backstory, yet the way they handled pain is different — one were to fight justice with knowledge and one with violence:D. And, both are from experiments, but this one is more brutal. TLOA and Guns' N' Roses has the same format of Prolouge<:

By the way, thank you for 300 followers! Ily all <3

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... mentions of guns, air force military!reader, inspired by Taste Of Sky by VentreCanard (on wattpad)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 660.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The world is cruel to women, isn’t it?

I’ve dreamed about touching the sky with my own hands, to see the clouds as I rise upon the whirls of the thousand winds with my hand on the control wheel of the plane — fighting with the gravity as I fight for my country. I’ve dreamed about flying with my own wings.

Although, my wings have been clipped, I flew with planes instead.

Maybe, I shouldn’t keep my head above the clouds. Maybe, I shouldn’t dream about flying this high when its impossible to land safely. Maybe, I shouldn’t have dream about saving the world when I couldn’t even save the love of my life, including my family and the person that became one with the stars.

The constant struggles between me and this world is inevitable. I have already given up when the wind blows my dreams away, leaving me breathless and broken, yet the person who taught me to fight; now gone and one with the whispers of the wind fight alongside of me when I can still feel the warmth of his hand. The reason and my motivation why I’m fighting that I know I’m not alone; I know I’m doing this not only for them, but my people who need me and I swear to protect — even if it will cost every person that has a piece of my heart.

I have thought he’s already one with the stars, but when I saw his ocean eyes, my world stilled.

Those eyes... those beautiful eyes that I have been searching for years after my heart died.

Although, the sparks on his blue eyes disappeared — the young boy I met years ago vanished, now, the light on his pretty eyes were replaced by an empty whirl on my heart.

I know, I am not here to bring the tragic past we experienced, but I do hope that the same boy I met when I was fifteen were still there on his memories, his heart, and in the back of his mind.

I was wrong.

What do I expect? I wasn’t even the same as I was before; I am much tougher, much stronger and I don’t need any men in my life — I have fallen in love with aircrafts and planes as I have loved him.

Still, he have that spot in my heart that has been buried within my soul.

I am a woman, a fighter, an old lover, I am the only rose among the thorns. My beauty were not my weapon, I have hidden every bit of my femininity within the smoke of planes and the dust of my hardships. Yet, he made my heart skips a beat — the feeling of my heart pumping on my chest were like my adrenaline on the battlefield — his blue eyes were only making me fall, the red light in my mind were making me wanting to trigger the emergency landing — except, I am not flying with the wind.

I have never felt so alive when I’ve touched the plane — except I am holding his hand, this time — I am holding the gun in the battlefiled — except I am holding the crimson rose close to my heart.

Most women fell in love with architects and businessmen. But, me? I fell in love with aircrafts, planes, and lastly, I fell in love with a man with a certain blue eyes.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

#bsd fics #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #[❤️; niko’s series]#bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuyabsd #chuuya imagines

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kingsnooz · 4 months

Text

Chapter 2

Soft chirps could be heard as a family of Birdon dreamt in their nest. Soft trills subconsciously were made by the parents to soothe their young. A sudden gust of wind was cast into a chick’s face stirring it awake for a moment but eventually went back to its dozing state.

Skidding to a halt upon landing in the clearing, Meta Knight felt ashamed as his wings were tucked. The king was already there, along with the accessory adorned dee. Complication after complication happened on his ship. First he awoke behind schedule due to not setting his alarm (and collapsing from exhaustion), then the training between the newest recruits got out of hand and of course as their leader couldn’t allow such insolence to continue. But how could he break it to the king! The astral’s whole reputation may be ruined. He couldn’t even look at them.

He fell to his metaphorical knees in defeat.

“Your majesty, there is no way I can make up for my tardiness. I sincerely hope you could forgive me.”

A snore could be heard.

Oh… they were asleep.

Bandee stretched and nudged his king awake causing him to make a grumbling yawn.

“Finally decided to make an appearance eh masked man?”

“Sire allow me to apologize, I-." Meta started but was cut off.

"Eh don’t worry about it, just glad you got some rest. Now help us move these rocks. We already started but decided to take a nap since we had some extra time.”

Indeed some of the large boulders have been moved, others cleanly cracked apart.

After clearing away the rubble, the purple shard was thankfully still there… until it bursted apart. In a split second both Dedede and Bandee were covered by Meta Knight’s cape.

After returning… two masks were there.

Both a light grayish steel and slashes of gold. Although both crescents one had golden waves, reminiscent of a sun along with other small differences. All the while Galaxia began to vibrate.

“Galaxia, what’s wrong?!” The distressed knight cried out.

“I… I know of them my child. They’re no master crown but are somewhat similar to me. They choose who has their power. Only when true strength is proven can they willingly work with the host and even then the mask must have a connection to the holder in some way.”

This information was relayed with mixed results.

“I’m not so sure about this sir, we just recovered from the Jamba Heart situation.” Bandee noised.

“Well leave it to us then! Me and Meta have been itchin’ for a chance to let loose!” Dedede proudly announced.

“Wait, what?!” Bandee stated shocked.

“All you kiddies have been working too hard. Me and metal head can take care of whatever trials these things have for us. Go off and play with Kirbs or something. Tell the pink blob I said hi.” Dedede said matter of factly.

“B-but great king!”

“No cuts, no buts, no coconuts. Now get out there and have some fun!” The penguin laughed pushing the dee away.

“Yes sir! Oh and one last thing.”

With surprising strength the child pulled the astral towards him.

“You better keep him safe.” He whispered.

“Bye!”

“Your majesty, allow me to consu-“ But before that the royal had already approached the mask.

“Alright, me and my bat winged buddy would like to accept y’all’s challenge.” He proudly announced. Nothing happened.

“Díos mío mi rey, you must be more careful.”

Abruptly the earth began to shake as a tower rose and rose, breaching the clouds.

Behind the bird a sharp inhale could be heard. Dedede didn’t feel the need to turn around, already knowing the tone all too well.

“And I thought I was the rash one when we were younger.” Meta knight said, his glare piercing the monarch he could almost feel it.

Kirby heard a knock on his door and crawled out of bed, putting his night cap on its hanger.

The pink puff opened his door and his eyes immediately lit up.

“Hiya Kirby! I have some extra time today and wanted to ask if we could hang out today?” Bandee asked.

“Of course Bandee! But I just woke up so I’m kinda hungry…” Right on cue the literal bundle of joy’s endless stomach grumbled.

“We could make an apple pie!” Bandee announced as Kirby jumped up and down.

“Alright, I could use some more apples. We can stop by a shop for more supplies!”

So together the kids went off on the smaller than usual quest.

“Preparations must be made. It’s necessary to gather supplies depending on how long this could take. You bring the essentials and I’ll contact my crew.” The knight listed as the king gave him a thumbs up and once again the knight took to the skies.

Upon returning the knight saw… well this was his own fault.

Containers of various foods, cooking supplies, care products, at least some fully needed things and… was that a chess board?

“Before you say anything I already got it all planned out. Now c’mere.” The king stated and once again lifted Meta Knight and reaching for is cape. From then the supplies were thrown in.

“Why must you misuse my prized accessory?”

“It’s not misusing, it’s being smart.” Dedede pointed out.

“Remind me to teach you how to make your own… now are you ready?”

“You bet it!” The king smirked.

(Last chapter)

#kirby #bandana waddle dee #meta knight #king dedede #kirby fanfic #shorter but mostly build up #my stuff

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amri-and-art · 8 months

Text

A short story i might turn into a fic--Your thoughts are welcome in the comments

“He’s alive, I just know it. I can feel it.” Naia pleaded with Kylan to come with her.

“Naia,” He started, sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but Gurjin is dead. We all know he is. He’s been gone for almost a Unum. Leaving the swamp is practically a death sentence, you should know that.”

The songteller spoke true, and Naia knew that. Leaving the swamp is dangerous, but he wasn’t right about her brother. That much she was sure of.

“Even if he lives, I cannot come with you. I have to take care of my family. I stand by my word.”

Naia groaned.

She stood, “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.” She scooped up her young daughter and left the small tree house Kylan had called home. She pushed through thick vines and brush until she entered her home through a window.

“Naia! Did you find someone to come with you?” He asked excitedly. “No.” She spoke softly, setting her daughter on the moss covered floor to play with her siblings, leaving Naia and Amri to talk. His ears flattened.

“I cannot let you go alone. It isn’t safe.”

“I know. That is why I must do it alone.”

He shook his head.

“Naia Please. Do not stay for me, for them.” He begged quietly, gesturing to the children that sat playing loudly on the soft floor. She sighed. She pulled her short curls into a bun, tying it at the back of her head. “I need some air, I’ll go get dinner.”

Amri watched as Naia disappeared from the same window she came in through. He leaned against the kitchen counter behind him. The small house was just big enough for the six of them, and he liked it that way.

“Father! You’ll never believe what I found!” Amris oldest son pushed through the front door, a giant beaming smile spread across his face.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yes! Look!” Amri wiped his hands on a nearby towel and tossed it on the counter. His brow scrunched when he saw what Kaapa pulled out of his bag. A Muski. It was tiny, and flew straight out of the bag and into Amris hair.

“How?”

“I don’t know! It’s completely undarkened!”

Amri pulled it away from him gently to look at it. Its black inky eyes were full of innocence and youth, not a speck of purple tainted them. It chirped and wrapped itself around Amris hand.

Moments later Naia returned with a pack full of Sogberries, and soon Amri was sinking his sharp grottan teeth into the sweet pink fruit.

Kaapa talked all about his findings that day, and his parents warned him not to stray far. It reminded Amri of when he was a childling, and snuck out of the caves at night to find ingredients for his experiments.

It was hard to find joy given their situation, but reminiscing on past memories, and dreaming of the future was one way to do it.

After the Garthm were released from the Castle of the Crystal, many Gelfing were killed, nearly all of them in what seemed to be no time at all. As a result, many childlings were orphaned, and were taken in by anyone willing to care for them. Amri remembered the day like it had been only a night ago.

The first children to be found, Kaapa and Hakira were much younger when they had been brought to Naia and Amri. They had two of their own children only a few Trine later. But he loved his own children just as much as the other, and often forgot the eldest two were not his, but was just as often reminded by Kaapas long Spritan ears, and Hakiras Vapran wings

When the topic arose of them being adopted, Amri always tells them yes, they are not his, but a gift from Thra, as all children are.

That night, after all was still, and her children were asleep, Naia climbed through the trees, all the way to the top. She laid on the large branches of the Apeknots and stared at the stars.

She felt dizzy after a while. There were so many of them, all so different and unique.

It hurt her brain when she thought about how vast the heavens were, and even Augura didn’t know how many stars just gelfling eyes could see, perhaps too many to count.

She thought maybe, somewhere out there, there was a place. Another planet like Thra, without Skeksis, and without fear. Without death, and without pain.

It was a silly thought, and she knew that, but she let it entertain her mind for a while before she crept back into her hammock and fell asleep.

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halfstack-smp · 1 year

Text

Please Take One

Oh. It wasn’t how Lynel was thinking at all.

Content: a baby(TM), The Time Knife, We've All Seen It, a two headed dog, children being rude, ungendered children and adults, the curse of family resemblance and also affection

TW: discussions of past child abandonment, illness and medication usage in children

Screen reader's note: Passages of Hokkien English.

Read from the beginning

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“What do you do while I’m gone?” Lynel asks one day.

Fadir frowns.

“How am I supposed t’ know what you get up to?” Lynel defensively continues. “I go out! I do-” They gesture vaguely. “Things!”

“I don’ do anythin’ too spec-ial, le,” Fadir dismisses. “Do some house chores. See if the other gods need somethin’ looked at. Check on the time knife. Meet up with the other diviners-”

“What was that last one?”

“Meet up with the other diviners,” Fadir repeats. “Very easy, le. I just go int’ my work room and activate the-”

“No, no,” Lynel interrupts. “The- the time knife thing. What’s a time knife?”

“Y’know. The time knife. It, ahh-” Fadir clicks its beak to itself a few times and curls its hands. “Imagine a blanket.”

Lynel blinks. “Al… right?”

“An’ the blanket is made up of all a bunch o’ threads and patterns. An’ y’ take a knife and sort of just-” One of Fadir’s talons pokes Lynel’s hand. “Just touch. Not enough t’ break it. But it changes the thread. Presses on a single point, le. An’ the harder you touch, the more thread y’ take along with you.”

“The thread is time, isn’t it?” Lynel asks. “That’s what you called it before. So then… a time knife is like something that pulls time?”

“Com-press,” Fadir corrects. “Be-cause the future, anything can happen, le. Lots of threads! But when there is a time knife, all those threads have to push up to the blade.”

“Is that bad?” Lynel wonders.

Fadir shrugs, its wings moving loudly across its back. “All it really means is that something is going to happen, that changes many things, an’ maybe you can’t stop it, ne? No matter what you do. An’ sometimes it is something very big. Like a flood that changes th’ future o’ all th’ people that live nearby- that is a time knife. But sometimes, it is very small. Very, very small. A right place at a right time. A wrong place at a wrong time. That is time knife, too.”

A pause, and then.

“Do you want to see the time knife?” It offers. “Y’ don’t have school t’day.”

“Alright.”

Now, of course Fadir already told Lynel that the time knife was not, in fact, an actual knife, but Lynel was still expecting something ominous. Maybe not dangerous, because Fadir doesn’t seem like the type to casually lead Lynel to danger, but still. At least something a little spooky.

As a treat.

But that’s not quite what happens. They hop the train line all the way to Aspenbone, the way they do when they want to reach the Nether market- except they cut off at an earlier stop, to a little old house with a blue butterfly on its door.

Lynel’s heard of butterfly houses before. Shelters protected by the Stargazer. Sometimes that means helping someone give birth safely, sometimes it’s a place to stay for the night, but a lot of times it means taking care of children who have nowhere else to go. There was one where Lynel used to live, but Mother was too proud to let any of them step inside. Looking back, it was probably more than pride- she was always afraid something would take her children away.

(Fat lot of good that ever did.)

It’s smaller than Lynel thought it would be. They expected a sprawling building of sad-faced orphans, not an actual house. It’s almost like a small inn with the amount of people (child or otherwise) just hanging around and talking. There’s even people in the kitchen when Fadir leads them in- a two headed wulver pup swinging their legs out of sync from the counter, a silk feathered sirin chopping up pears with a baby qilin slung across her chest. Or maybe an achlis? Achlis is the one with no scales, isn’t it?

“Hello again, Mx. Ravenslove!” the sirin sweetly chirps. “I’m just finishing up everyone��s snacks for the day. Any problems with the train today? You’re a little later than usual.”

“Some phantoms stuck on the tracks, le,” Fadir responds. “But will clear up in a few hours.”

The baby’s pearl green eyes open, cat-like dots peering out of spotted fawny hair. Their chubby body suddenly leans out of their sling, hands grabbing at the air in Fadir’s direction.

The sirin sighs. “Of course.” Her hands move away from the cutting board to heft the baby out of the sling. “Take them for a moment, will you?”

“Hao, le.” Fadir makes some kind of exaggerated noise at its arms wrap around the baby. “Aiyoo. Zui da!”

The baby happily slaps at their cheeks. “Ah-bi! Bibibibi.”

“Zhen de, ma?” Fadir indulgently asks. “Hao li hai!”

Lynel squints. “Is- is the baby the time knife?”

“Yes, le.”

“Time baby,” Lynel deadpans.

“Somethin’ like that,” Fadir allows. It resigns its hand to getting poked by the baby as it turns back to the sirin caretaker. “Any changes?”

“The doctor’s cleared Vis to start on heart medication, but you know how it is. They’re barely old enough to wrangle food, much less pills. I’ve been sneaking it into applesauce-”

“Pst.” The wulver pup(s?) wave their hands at Lynel. “Hey, why do you have freckles? I thought only the pale humans did that.”

“My dad was light skinned, I think.” Lynel stares up at the wulver. “Why do you got two heads?”

The left head sticks out their tongue. “More like why do we have to be stuck with the same body?”

“We were supposed to be twins,” the right head says. “I guess we just gave up halfway through.”

“Weird.” Lynel looks back and forth between the two heads. “Does one of you drive, or do you take turns?”

“Oh, it’s the worst,” the right head bemoans. “We each get a half.”

“How do you even walk?” Lynel sputters.

“Carefully,” the left head bluntly says. “We’re still working on it.”

Lynel hums to themself. “That’s kind of cool,” they admit. “I can’t imagine gettin’ along with one of my siblings like that.”

The two (probably three) children stare at each other in silence for a bit.

“We probably should have told each other our names at some point,” Lynel realizes. “I’ve just been callin’ you left head and right head. I think that’s mean.”

“I mean, we were just calling you freckle,” the left head admits. “Was that mean?”

Lynel thinks about it for a moment. Just lets the name sit there and marinate.

…Yeah, that sucks.

“Okay, no more of that,” they decide. “I’m, uh- Lynel.”

The wulver’s hand moves from the left head to the right. “Dotty and Lotty.”

Lynel looks back at the sirin lady still talking to Fadir. “So is she your mom or does she just work here?”

“She’s our mom,” Lotty clarifies. “She doesn’t really keep the other kids-”

“-unless they get too old,” Dotty finishes. “She does a lot of stuff with the Civics office trying to match babies up with new parents.”

“Huh. Any matches for…” What was the baby’s name again? “Vee? It’s easier for small ones, isn’t it?” Lynel scuffs their feat against the counter. “That’s what I heard when I was gettin’ moved around, anyways.”

Dotty and Lotty’s ears draw back a bit. “Well- sick babies are harder to take care of,” Dotty starts.

“And Mom’s not allowed to lie about any of that stuff-”

“-and Vis is really, really sick. Y’know?”

“Mom said they’re not gonna die or anything,” Lotty insists, “but. Y’know. Not really gonna get better, either.”

“That’s a bit like Fadir, then,” Lynel guesses. “That’s not too bad.”

Dotty and Lotty squint at the adults for a moment. “Is he-”

“It,” Lynel quietly corrects.

“Is it- is it very nice, do you think?” Lotty suddenly asks.

“It does look nice,” Dotty adds.

“What do you mean?” Lynel asks, voice getting smaller. “Why does that matter?”

“I think Mom wants to give Vis to Mx. Ravenslove.” Dotty’s shoulder shrugs. “I don’t know. It already visits so much. ”

Oh.

Oh, okay.

This is a thing now. Okay. Okay.

Lynel’s fingers dig into their palms until it quakes, shakes, hurts like rusty nails, and feels the sudden urge to deck Dotty and Lotty in their innocent puppy faces. But that would be mean, so Lynel doesn’t- doesn’t do that. Because that’s just wrong.

Fadir’s still just standing around with the baby, who seems to absolutely adore it with all their little heart, knocking their head into its chest as it solemnly places a fruit box sticker on their cheek.

“They do seem very attached to you,” the sirin mother points out. “Have you ever considered adoption before?”

“Eh? No,” Fadir distractedly answers. “I already did that.”

“Oh?” The sirin blinks, and looks between Fadir and Lynel. “Oh! Really? I couldn’t tell! You look so alike.”

Fadir and Lynel Ravenslove, with their shared freckles and tousled hair and free arms tucked at their chests like some sort of peeled flightless bird, both stare at her with equally blank smiles.

“Sounds fake, le,” Fadir decides, “but I’ll believe it.” It pats Lynel’s hair. “Already have one. Paisei.”

“...You can adopt more than once, Mx. Ravenslove.”

“Heh?” Fadir’s wings flare with surprise. “When did that happen?”

“That was always a thing,” the sirin patiently points out. “Literally always.”

Fadir’s face freezes as it stiffly tilts its head this way and that, clicking to itself.

“Sha ren you sha fu,” it finally says. “I may be stupid.”

Fadir’s eyes suddenly flick down to Lynel.

“I will… think about it,” it vaguely says. “Kamsia.”

The train ride home is a lot quieter this time. Lynel stares out the sides and watches shadows run along between the trees as they pass- formless quadrapedal freonds trying to ride the coattails of the train’s momentum.

“What do you see?” Lynel starts. “When you look at Vis.”

“No matter what I do, Vis is… there,” Fadir slowly answers. “For a long, long time. And then somethin’ terrible falls apart. It’s very strange. I’ve never seen a time knife with me in it.” It raises its hand, watching its allays dance along its fingertips. “I never feel my own thoughts, when I look at th’ thread o’ time. Not like that. But wherever Vis’ threads end, there is something- I don’t know. An’ then I see you.”

Lynel frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You an’ Vis, together,” Fadir clarifies. “Very very close. That’s why I kept comin’ back, le. Somethin’ in that child’s life tears through time, an’-” Its hand shakes slightly. “-an’ I don’t know what that means for you.”

Oh. It wasn’t how Lynel was thinking at all.

“But you felt upset earlier,” Fadir notes. “What happened, ne?”

“I-” Lynel hugs the backpack in their lap. “When you were holding Vis, it felt… bad.”

Fadir blinks. “Why?”

“I know it’s stupid! I know it is, I just-” Lynel feels their cheeks growing hot. “Mother was nice too, before the others were born.”

“..Ah.”

“She was still nice, after. At least at first.” Lynel picks at the threads of their pack. “But there was never enough to be nice to me and them. Mother and I weren’t allowed to be selfish anymore.”

Fadir’s expressions were odd to get used to at first, with that smile frozen on its face. But then Lynel thought of it like a mask slapped over its mouth, and things got easier. It was easier to understand, when everything was hidden in the eyes.

There’s something strained and hollow in that expression. Ice cracking on a frozen lake, screaming with the weight of it all.

“I did See after her, le,” it whispers. “To see if she would want you again. Or feel sorry for lettin’ me take you away.”

It pauses, as if wondering whether to hold its next words. It delicately folds its hands across its lap.

“She will use your absence well. She will always be enough for them, for the rest of their lives.” It sucks in a large breath, a rattling cage of lungs made to tear apart the sky. “An’ if I ever see her again, I will tear out her eyes for puttin’ you in my hands. Paisei.”

A pause, and then-

“You should make a doll of her and tear its guts out,” Lynel offers. “That’s what I did when people made me mad.”

“I should not do that, le,” Fadir drily refuses. “I am- I am a god. I think that would act-u-ally hurt someone.”

“Like a little rubber chew toy,” Lynel continues anyway. “An absolute wet rag.” They suddenly remember the sirin lady’s comment. “Can you believe the butterfly house said we look alike? That was so weird.”

Fadir snickers.

“It’s your fault,” Lynel jokes. “You’re infecting me with your- your bird thing.”

Fadir leans closer. “Ne?”

Lynel leans back. “No.”

Fadir leans its entire body onto Lynel’s side. “Neeeee?”

“Noooooooo.”

Fadir’s scaly, knobbled hand rests on the side of Lynel’s face, pulling them just close enough to rest its head on their own. “I am very sad for why you are here,” it admits. “But- I am happy that you are here. However long you stay.”

Lynel might have felt something like a kiss- stilted, gentle, kind.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Lynel ducks into Fadir’s coat. “Okay.”

#ravenslove #fadir ravenslove #lynel ravenslove #vis ravenslove #dotty lotty #halfstack butterfly houses #halfstack stories #halfstack smp #aenor-llelo #cryptkeeperkain

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discordapples · 10 months

Text

PT. 11 The Mimic

Word count: 2.8k (9 mins read)

Characters: Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow, Livia Novik.

Summary

Livia, Ominis and Sebastian find themselves once again in the company of the Collector. They learn more about the enigmatic entity that inhabits the Room of Requirement and its motives...

Read the eleventh chapter below.

Livia | Hogwarts, Early September, 1893.

For the rest of the afternoon, Livia spends her time cutting herself on serrated memories she wishes she had kept fastened in her trunk. Digging for the Mimic implied rummaging through the sundries she brought all the way from Ukraine.

Laurence's pocket watch, her mother's hairbrush, her father's glasses, all are scattered through silken scarves and poplin skirts for safe keep.

The last mementoes of a culled family.

The ballast of solitude ties itself to her waist, keeping her rooted to the floor of her bedroom for an hour and dewing her eyes with tears as her fingers skitter along the objects that are a testimony to a life that is no longer hers to hold.

After her momentary lapse, Livia leaves her dormitory, the handheld mirror in tow, to join Ominis and Sebastian before the Room of Requirement, where, if the Collector is truthful, the door will appear.

And in the corridor of the Astronomy wing, she finds Sebastian slanting against the wall, hands pocketed, and Ominis pacing his tormented thoughts into submission.

Livia extends a curled roll of paper to Sebastian.

"What's that?" He asks.

"Your question."

"Good to know we spent three hours in the Undercroft for absolutely no reason at all," he jests.

"Having people to brainstorm with is much better than speaking to my reflection in the mirror," she retorts. "Was an afternoon with me such a torture, Sebastian Sallow?"

"I endured worse. I've been bunking with Ominis for seven years." His chin jerks in the Mimic's direction. "And were we so bad at brainstorming that you changed your mind and brought your mirror?"

"This isn't a simple mirror. You inspired me when you mentioned Malisect and how it allows you to relive memories." Ominis drifts closer, his fingers grazing the metallic frame of the mirror. "We had our own Garreth Weasley at the Winter College—Viktor Kozmenko. Except he didn't dabble in potions. His thing was imbuing objects with magic. This is called a Mimic. An enchanted mirror that, if aimed at a subject, will replicate their personality and their reactions. For our Magical Law class, we'd be tested on our ability to defend a case. We'd each be appointed an Inquisitor, so we used the Mimic to capture our Inquisitor's personality and practice with questions they would be likely to ask. If we point the Mimic at the Collector, we'll be able to ask its Mimic as many questions as we like."

Perplexity etches a line between Ominis' brows. "What's to say the Mimic's replies will accurately reflect the Collector's thoughts?"

"Nothing, unfortunately. What the Mimic answers is only hypothetical, and it can be wrong, but it might also give us some insight. See it as a way to learn more about the Collector without asking him directly. A way to circle around his three questions rule."

Sebastian lets out a chuckle. "That's clever. I stand by my belief the Sorting Hat chose right, even though it's a sin to have you locked up in that tower. We have better dorms in the dungeons."

Livia graces him with a sarcastic smile. "I'm sure you're a bliss to wake up to. If one likes to be bullied before their first coffee..."

There it is again, the game sprawling with ease between the two of them. Livia wonders if it feeds Sebastian's fire as much as it does hers, and the oily eyes he gives her tell her he might.

"Who's the bully now?" He asks her playfully before Ominis clears his throat.

"The door..."

Livia and Sebastian whirl around in time to see the portal flicker into existence. The air gorges itself with a strange scent, something between rust and sulfur, and when they step inside, they are faced with the same antiquated looking-glass.

"This is such a bad idea," Ominis mutters.

"You can wait for us here," Livia suggests.

"And leave two morally flexible individuals alone with an evil entity?"

"What a hero you are, Ominis," Sebastian teases him back.

"We don't know if the entity is evil," Livia points out.

Ominis sheds a cynical scoff. "Maybe you two have been sensitively impaired... Couldn't you feel something sinister in that room?"

"The most potent fear is fear of the unknown," Livia voices, and the aphorism whisks an irked sigh from Ominis.

"Can we just proceed before I change my mind?"

As she inches closer to the mirror, it appears to Livia as if the finger stains on its surface have multiplied. Despite her desire to focus on the task at hand, her mind swarms with questions. Questions, she promises herself, she will ask the Mimic about.

She presses the pad of her fingers to the glass and another storm of sounds and light breaks upon them.

When the fury dies out, Livia opens her eyes. They no longer stand in the chaste white room, but rather sit around a long table.

Before them, an unblemished ivory tablecloth is topped with nine candelabras, all fluttering with versicolored flames. It takes Livia but an instant to commit them to memory: Geranium pink, blood red, orphic purple, malachite green, golden yellow, celestial blue, rust orange, vestal white and ink-black.

Why nine?

The dining room is paneled in mahogany wainscot, the upper half of the walls dressed in crimson flourished wallpaper. Hung on the walls, empty frames, florid with intricate tinsel work, their canvas a stygian black swallowing all the light. Glancing around, Livia notes four latched doors—one on each wall—no windows, and a ceiling so high it disappears into a boundless patch of swirly murk, as if a night sky choking with clouds.

Are they still in the castle?

Sebastian and Ominis are respectively seated to her right and left, while the Collector sits at the other end of the table, the tatters of his black cloak churning on each side like tendrils of mist.

There is no smell in the room, no sound beside their own staggering breaths, and Livia wonders how much this kind of sensory deprivation weighs on Ominis.

"First question?"

The Collector's voice is like the cry of young thunder in the stillness of the room. For a fault of perceiving any other sound, Livia's mind is splintered with it and hairs rise on her arm. Perceiving her dismay, Sebastian sets on uncurling his roll of paper.

This provides enough of a distraction for Livia to aim the Mimic's under the table without alerting the Collector.

Sebastian clears his throat as he fumbles needlessly to smooth the curled edges of the paper.

Has he caught on Livia's intentions?

At the opposite end of the table, the Collector is placid; his featureless mask polished as a coin and unmoving.

"What is your true nature?" Sebastian asks when he has wasted enough time.

Again, the sepulchral voice jumps from particles through particles, trawling through the air and conquering it entirely. "I am not alive nor dead. I am sentient, but I cannot feel. I can make, but I am not made. I have desires, but no way to satiate them."

The gears in Livia's mind turn full-steam, but so do her other two companions'. When Sebastian opens his mouth to voice another question, her hand shoots to his arm, and he clenches his jaw shut.

There will be enough time to ponder over the Collector's words. Even more to interrogate its Mimic in the rustic comfort of the Undercroft.

For now, Livia focuses her attention back on the Collector. "You gave us three questions and time to ponder over them," she remarks, "undoubtedly to establish a form of trust with us. What do you have to gain in such a transaction?"

"The potential to feed on your emotions through you."

"You have desires, but no way to satiate them..." Livia parrots for herself. Slowly—collectedly—the entity nods.

She wants to ask which desires he hungers for, how he will feed, if he requires of his proxies to merely act the desires or feel them truly, but she is out of questions.

The third is reserved for Ominis.

Livia has designed it to be a show of trust. A necessary sacrifice of an insightful inquiry, if Livia hopes to convince the cautious wizard to help her and Sebastian in their cause, for it is now apparent to her that he has nothing to gain from finding the Promissum Mortis; that he doesn't share the same longing or the desperation to knife through rules.

What he did so far, he did for Sebastian.

But she is no one to him. As he said it himself, she is not Slytherin. She is not one of them.

Ominis understands her forgetfulness as an intended gesture and turns a perplexed expression on her. "You didn't slip me a paper."

The wager is a dangerous one, and Livia knows she might allow a lick of fire to run over the trust bridging her and Sebastian together. Maybe he will assume she thinks little of his abilities, but she is persuaded she can mend the torn seams later.

He seems to her like the kind of man that can weather a little scorch.

"I trust you," she tells Ominis, and just as surely as she postulated, Sebastian's knuckles tighten around his piece of paper, his gaze knifing seethingly on the tablecloth.

Ominis stiffens, more furrows creasing his forehead, but he relents, his sightless eyes going in the general direction of the voice he perceived. "Exhaustively, what does that feeding entail?"

There is no change in the Collector's gait, and when he speaks, it is akin to a puppet mouthing the words of an invisible ventriloquist. "In order for me to feed, the nourisher needs to experience an emotion genuinely. During this happening, I will attach my twine to the skin of the nourisher. This process is painless, albeit uncomfortable. Once the twine is attached, I will leech on the emotion for a few minutes. The more powerful the emotion, the faster the process. Once I have absorbed the emotion, the nourisher will experience a short period of euphoria, followed by a mild fatigue. The leeching process has no other serious consequence on the human body besides those aforementioned. The leeching can only happen in this room and with a consenting nourisher. Nine times, I need to feed to sustain me for a decade."

The word parasite is the first that chisels itself into Livia's mind. An icky concept to most, but she knows not all parasites entertain a vampiric relationship with their host.

Sometimes, the relationship can be mutually beneficial.

"I believe you had a question for us," Livia remarks.

The Collector lifts a bony hand, his fingers outstretching in their direction, and for a heartbeat, Livia thinks him about to cast a hex on them, but instead he twists his wrist so his palm face up and from the vast expanse of the table burgeons a banquet. First, intricate silverware, then crystal chalices and baroque ewers, at last, a coterie of fruits and cheeses, heaps of steaming meat.

Smells effloresce through the room, filling the space just as much as the entity's voice.

"You cannot pull things from the veil of reality like I do," he explains, "but you are finite and this finitude allows you to hold within you the material and the ethereal like—"

"Feelings?" Livia suggests.

The Collector nods. "You can eat and drink. I can pull through the strings of reality, weave a new tapestry of possibles, fabricate anything, provided it is tangible."

Livia leans forward. "Only fallacies or originals?"

"I can give you anything you want, whether from this world or another, provided you can touch it with your fingers."

"Even the Promissum Mortis?" Sebastian asks, and Livia's fingers tighten around the brass handle of the Mimic.

A flush of heat blooms beneath her cheeks at the imprudence of telling the entity what they are truly after, but the words have escaped Sebastian's lips and it cannot be helped.

The Collector nods.

"You said you had a question for us?" Livia asks their host, eager to leave the entity's vicinity before Sebastian can think of sharing the exact coordinates to their dorms.

"If given the same opportunity, would those you wish to save squander it?"

Livia's heart squeezes, but she lets nothing show. Instead, she lifts her chin. "A waste of a question on a rhetorical one."

"It is only rhetorical because you know the answer to it," the Collector replies passively. Another gesture on his part dissolves all the food on the table, and it is as if there was none at all. "The arcane object you hold under the table will not wield the answers you seek, Livia Novik. I have pondered over any you could think of, and always came short. You cannot understand me. No more than I can."

"Let us have a sample before we make our decision," Livia suggests, her heart pounding at her brazenness. "You made a banquet appear before our eyes, yet you didn't allow us to eat. Let us have a taste of your leeching, and I'll let you have a bite of my emotions. If we both find it palatable, then I'll consider discussing terms with you." Above their heads, the dark fog churns and churns. Livia doesn't falter. "You said the nourisher has to consent to you feeding on them. You need to earn my trust, and this is how you will."

"Agree to her terms," Sebastian adds, "and you'll have at least two people to feed on."

The Collector rises from his seat, the shreds of his cloak winging up in the air. "If the third agrees to participate in the first leeching, I will warrant you a limitation. A safety, to show my good intentions. Ponder over my offer, and return to me when your heart hungers for its missing piece."

Livia nods, her heart lurching against her ribs, and when the squall of the Collector's tempest simmers down from the ceiling and swallows them, Livia, Sebastian and Ominis are surrendered back into the corridor instead of a noose of bedsheets.

"I'm starting to believe you are more Slytherin than Ravenclaw bargaining with that thing like you did," Ominis says as soon as their senses have trickled back into their limbs.

"It was quite sly, indeed," Sebastian adds, bitterness bleeding through his tone.

The blow shouldn't have landed through her armor, yet Livia feels it bludgeoning all the same. "Ominis, would you mind giving me a minute alone with Sebastian?"

"I'm exhausted, anyway," the Slytherin replies before leaving them to their meeting.

Sebastian's jaw is corded, his gaze fleeting and dark, the slants of his face sharper.

Something inside of Livia coils into its shell—something brittle, frightened.

The questions that swell through her mind are agitated. Dreading.

Would she have held her ground before the entity is she was alone?

Could she dive into the Collector's chasmal uncertainties if she had no one to hold her?

Why is the idea of seeing him walk away from her knifing so deep into her gut?

"I know what I did wrong," she confesses. "I didn't mean for you to think I don't trust you."

His jaw loosens, but he cannot speak, or else she will lose the courage to bare herself, so her fingers twine around his arm, and already his heat blisters through her as if it is a sentient thing eager to slide into the cracks in her ice.

"I'm a stranger here, Sebastian," she tells him. "Maybe I'm being presumptuous in saying so, but you're the only one who trusts me. You know, before the dueling night, I lied to the other Ravenclaw students by pretending I didn't speak English. Then I used a bad spell and nearly maimed a girl. A few days later, I asked Ominis to damage his reputation for me—a stranger..."

Sebastian gelid demeanor thaws with her touch, the angles of his face planed by her words. "His reputation is already beyond repair... But I thought you didn't care about Hogwarts."

"I shouldn't," she replies, "and maybe it doesn't show on my face, but when I walk in a classroom and all conversations stop, it... hurts me. So I suppose I do care. At least a little..." she sheds a lithe scoff. "I guess the Collector could've fed on these inconvenient insecurities of mine." She turns her face to him. "I know he'd be replete with my sorrow if I lost the only friend I made here."

A smirk cracks through the varnish of Sebastian's ire and when it has completely slipped from his features, he tugs her along as she hangs at his arm. "I hope you're an early riser, new girl."

The tight coil inside of her loosens and she is able to relinquish a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Because making you as popular as me will take a good day or two. So we better start early."

#hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy ominis #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #dark romance

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fanfoolishness · 2 years

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under a new morning sun (5/?)

Turns out, being trapped in the Fade isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Rogue Min Hawke learned this at Adamant. Luckily for her, her lover Varric Tethras refused to believe that she was really gone.

Varric rescued Hawke from the Fade with the help of the Inquisition, but there were consequences. Spending time in the physical Fade has left them Fade-touched: Varric is now a dwarf who can dream, and Hawke has developed mage abilities. Together, they’ve returned to Kirkwall for a well-deserved rest.

Old estrangements, new powers, and ghosts from the past make for a homecoming that doesn’t exactly go as planned, even as the Inquisition’s mission marches on and Kirkwall struggles to rebuild. Hawke must find a way to master her newfound magic and strike a path forward with family, friends and Varric at her side.

Chapter 1: Rearranged | Chapter 2: Making the Rounds | Chapter 3: In the Evening Hour | Chapter 4: The Message

Chapter 5: this is fine

“Right. Let’s give it another go,” said Hawke stubbornly. “I can get it this time. I swear on the Maker’s arse.”

“Oh, dear,” said Merrill. She and Bethany stood by the hearth, near the furniture they had pushed to the edges of the room for practice.

“Sister, that’s terribly sacreligious,” Bethany said, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you ever serious?”

Hawke stuck her tongue out, and Bethany sighed. “Ask a stupid question…”

Hawke took a deep breath, concentrating. Her hands trembled slightly, reaching, reaching, straining for something beyond. The book in front of her quivered, then began vibrating on the table near the wall, bouncing up and down of its own accord before it collapsed back to the wooden surface.

“I did it!” Hawke whooped.

Bethany stifled a giggle. “All right, yes, you generated a force wave that moved the book. Very good. Better than when you punched a hole through the table with force.”

“That was an accident,” said Hawke loftily. “What can you expect? I’m a beginner.”

“But you’re coming along nicely,” said Merrill. “You can use your mana now for both fire magic and force magic.”

Hawke stuck her tongue out again, this time in concentration, and called a tiny flame to her palm. It sputtered and crackled before fading out again, and then she sat down heavily, feeling faint.

“You mustn’t overdo it,” said Merrill. “You haven’t got the stamina yet.” She nodded to the glass of water at Hawke’s elbow. “You ought to have some.”

“You’re doing very well, Min,” Bethany agreed. “But I think that’s enough for today. You look worn out.”

“I look magnificent,” said Hawke, but she gulped the water down all the same, waiting for her head to stop spinning. She huffed out a sharp breath between pressed lips. “How did you both get through this as children? I mean, I’m utterly fine , but… it’s rather a lot, isn’t it?”

Bethany and Merrill exchanged a look Hawke couldn’t read. “It was just life,” said Merrill. “Ever since I was small. The Keeper took me under her wing, and taught me so many things. I was very proud of my magic. But it wasn’t always easy. The more you know, the more you have to be careful. You’ve seen that.”

“So then why learn at all?” Hawke asked. Bethany looked scandalized, and Hawke backtracked quickly. “Well, I mean, I understand if you’re very powerful, you’ve got to learn to be safe with things, but you’ve both said I’ve got little going on in the way of strength. Do I really need to ever use this, aside for parlor tricks?”

Bethany sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if Dad ought to have taught you and me and Carver all the same sorts of lessons,” she said, sitting down beside Hawke on the settee. Merrill perched on the settee’s arm, next to Hawke. “There’s just… only so much of magic that you can ignore. You’ll always use it, some way, in the end.”

“And certainly you’ve seen enough of what can go wrong,” said Merrill, looking uncharacteristically solemn. “My Keeper, Enchanter Orsino, all the mages who’ve lost themselves in a bargain with a spirit…” Hawke heard, but Merrill didn’t say, Anders’ name. “You’ve got to be able to know who you are, and what you’re about. And that comes with practice.” She patted Hawke on the shoulder.

“Demons and temptation are a part of life with magic,” said Bethany sadly. “The number of times some wretched demon has tried to tell me it can give me a cure --” She shook her head, nose wrinkling in disgust. “It’s quite annoying at this point. But in dark times… resolve can falter, and not even the Chant can help one through it. Which is why mastering oneself is so important.”

Hawke squirmed at her sister’s mention of the Chant. Oh, sure, she believed some of it, but she’d never understood the way that Bethany could lean on it, on the Maker, and find comfort or solace. The Maker had always seemed to Hawke like more of a distant relative than a protecting presence, and the Chant was far too stuffy for day-to-day life. Still, though. If it helped Bethany, Hawke figured she wasn’t going to fool with that.

“That’s fair,” Hawke sighed. “I suppose I was hoping there was some sort of back alley solution. Like, being half a mage. All the flash, none of the drawbacks. Is that an option?”

“Harder than you thought, dear sister?” asked Bethany sympathetically.

“Yessss,” Hawke whined, and they all laughed, though it wasn’t particularly funny.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Bianca murmured.

“Why should it be? You’re the one who wanted me to come back here,” Varric grumbled. Don’t let her get the better of you. You know how she is. He did know, and that was part of the problem.

He’d missed that sly voice, that gleam in her eyes. She was as beautiful as ever. He sat down by the roaring fireside, letting out a long sigh.

Bianca slid onto the bench beside him, pressing against him. He hissed sharply, his heart pounding at her warmth.

“So this is the Inquisition?” she asked casually, as if she hadn’t just decimated his personal space. “You’re coming up in the world, Varric. This is so much more ambitious than the Merchant Guild ever thought of being.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Sharps,” Varric said. Her old nickname felt unfamiliar in her mouth. She’d laughed about it, long ago; he’d started with Sharp for her biting cleverness, but realized it worked for her tongue, too. Hence the pluralization.

She laughed, the sound silky, silvery, confident. Fuck. He’d missed her.

“So why are you here, trickster? Why’d you come when I called? Got a new tale to spin?” Her fingers danced along the back of his neck, and he shivered. Something about this wasn’t right.

“I -- I don’t know --” His mind was blank. Kirkwall shifted around them, except that it was Skyhold, wasn’t it? But then why was the Great Hall so empty? The fire had burned out long ago. Ashes lay cold and spent in the lonely hearth.

He groaned. “Something’s wrong. Have to set it right.”

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Bianca asked. She curled up beside him, her skin soft against his own, and together they watched the sunset over the harbor. If it was green-tinged instead of flush with reds and golds, he didn’t notice.

Until he woke up, stiff from the crappy inn bed and its lumpy mattress. “Stupid dreams,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his fists. “Should’ve known.”

He blinked at the sunrise, its florid light beginning to trickle in through the grimy window. Right. The ship from Kirkwall had gotten in late last night across the Waking Sea -- would he ever not get seasick making this trip? -- and he’d grabbed the first room near port he could find. Not the best choice, it turned out.

He stared up at the stained wooden ceiling in the growing light, wishing Hawke was nestled up beside him to hog the blankets and jab him with her incredibly sharp elbows. There were a hundred excellent reasons for him to be returning to help the Inquisition and deal with the Bianca situation. A thousand. Probably more. He needed to do this, and it needed doing. The pragmatic side of him, pure Tethras, very firmly started listing them out.

But the Varric half missed a woman warm and real, a woman he’d nearly lost too many times to count; and that was the part that hauled himself out of bed, rummaged in his pack, and began to write.

Hawke slipped out the front of the estate quietly in the pre-dawn gray, Molossus at her heels. “Come on, boy,” she whispered. “Let’s get some air.”

The crispness in the air signaled the shift from summer into autumn, and Hawke shivered in a dark blue cloak, her daggers at her belt. She still hadn’t put on the old Champion’s armor, not since her rescue. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day, she would unpack it. She’d barely been back for a week. There was no rush.

There were no nobles on the street this time of morning. This was the time for the people who really made Kirkwall run, the stallkeepers setting up their wares in the Hightown square, the merchants’ boys making food deliveries to the estate staff meeting them at back doorways, the housekeepers both elven and human heading to day jobs. City guards stood at their posts, yawning slightly at the end of their all-night shifts, waiting for the morning crew to relieve them. A few men and women ducked out when she passed the Blooming Rose, looking both furtive and satisfied.

Molossus trundled at her side, his nails tap-tapping on cold Kirkwall stone. Hawke smiled down at him, reaching out to brush a hand against the spot at the base of his ear where he loved to be scratched. He let out a huff and a grumble of appreciation. The first rays of the morning sun highlighted the burgeoning white of his muzzle.

Hawke frowned. He’s getting old. She cast back her memory. How old was he now? Twelve? Thirteen? He’d been an adult and fully trained when she and Carver found him injured on the battlefield at Ostagar, a warhound breathing hard with an arrow in his side. She still remembered Bethany’s look of compassion when Carver barged into the house in Lothering, the great dog cradled in his strong arms. Bethany’s healing skills weren’t as developed as Anders’, but they had done the trick, and ever since then Molossus had always been by the side of a Hawke.

“I’m glad you weren’t at Adamant,” she said under her breath. “You belong here, old boy.” She was so grateful that she had listened to her gut before setting out for Skyhold all those months ago. After Varric’s letter about the fall of Haven, the missing Wardens, and the return of Corypheus, she’d known she couldn’t hide from the Inquisition any longer. Luckily she’d been able to meet up with Aveline before she left the Free Marches, and had sent Molossus with her to find and protect Bethany. She’d missed him, and worried about him and Bethany both, but it had been the safer choice.

She hoped Bethany wasn’t fretting about her now. Perhaps she should have left a note at the breakfast table. Then again, she didn’t know where she was going or when she’d be back. She just… didn’t want to be in the estate right now.

Molossus nudged her hip, and Hawke managed a smile. “I know. Woke us both up, didn’t it.” She gazed at her gloved and gauntleted hands, seeing them as they had looked this morning, shaking and covered with ash.

Damn dreams!

It had been so real. Adamant, again. The smell of sand and deathroot and witherstalk. Fighting Wardens in blue like Bethany’s armor, demons gibbering and slavering on the ramparts. Varric beside her, Bianca’s firing mechanism a familiar, soothing sound in the battle’s loud roar. Better than that, Varric’s cheery voice calling out, “Got another one, Hawke!” or “Nice one, Sparrow!” They were going to win. She could feel it.

Until the Nightmare roiled out of the hole torn in the fabric of their world, claws straining for Varric’s throat. Hawke had leapt to his defense, her daggers held high -- her daggers suddenly aflame with righteous fire --

And she’d woken up with her bedcovers smoldering.

It only took a moment to put out the flame, smother it with another layer of blankets and then douse the whole thing with Molossus’ water dish. But extinguishing the fire left Hawke naked and panting on the floor, hands covered with damp warm ash, trembling badly.

Her foolish words taunted her. So then why learn at all?

She’d gotten up from the sodden, scorched bedclothes and dressed herself as quickly as she could, Molossus making concerned whining noises at her all the while. She had to get out. It was as simple as that.

The cool morning air on her face was a relief. This was real.

But the Fade had been terribly real, too --

No. No. This wasn’t anything like that. She scanned the faces of people passing her by, checking surreptitiously to make sure they were all unique, all fully human or dwarven or elven, no blurred features, no glowing eyes or shimmering auras. She checked the world before her for signs of symmetry, of acquiescence to the laws of nature -- no buildings beginning to float into the sky, no stairs that led to nowhere, no water flowing from the ground up into the air, no sunlight coming from opposite directions. She took deep breaths, and Molossus pressed himself against her as she walked, a grounding, solid presence against her leg.

She swallowed, twining her fingers beneath his leather collar for a moment before letting him go. Things were fine. She was fine. She simply needed more instruction than Bethany and Merrill had been able to provide as of yet. More immediate aid. Something that would take her dreams and lock them up tight so they couldn’t possibly get out --

The colony on the Coast. The thought came to her unbidden. Yes, that might be something. Something like a Circle… but not a Circle. She mulled the idea over, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

Bethany hadn’t needed a Circle growing up. She’d done well with Dad as her only teacher. But then again, Bethany had been a child, and learning had come so quickly back then. Hawke was in her thirties and every time she thought she had gotten a concept down, it seemed to come round the other side of her mind and surprise her into screwing up again. Maybe she just wasn’t terribly good at learning. In that case, the more teachers, the better.

She paused, realizing she had wandered into the Dwarven Quarter. Her mouth quirked into something like a smile. Varric had always grumbled about this part of Hightown; perhaps it was why her hurried footsteps had led her here. Less of a slog than to the Hanged Man, but still a hint of Varric, all the same.

She found a deserted bench by a statue of some Paragon. A passing dwarf gave her a curious look -- a human and a wardog hanging out by Paragon So-and-So must look pretty strange, Hawke admitted. She sat down and Molossus curled up at her feet, taking a moment to get all the way down to the ground. His back legs trembled slightly, and she sighed, patting him on his side once he made it down.

“Good boy. The years catch up to us, don’t they?”

He gave her a skeptical look, as if to say I’m spry as ever! She chuckled. Dogs always did take after their masters, they said, and wasn’t it her luck to have the most sarcastic hound there’d ever been.

“You’re right. I was besmirching your strength. I’m dreadfully sorry,” Hawke apologized. Molossus gave her a look that was equal parts delight and self-satisfaction, then stretched out comfortably at her feet.

Her boots stared back at her, plain nugskin with onyx buckles. She realized she was dressed in some of her darkest, plainest clothes, and suddenly remembered Anders in that last painful year, his robes darkest samite, his face pallid, eyes hollow and haunted.

It’s not like that.

I’m not like that.

She sat in the quiet quarter as the sun rose, and she lied to herself until she felt a little better.

#hawke x varric #varric x hawke #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #varric tethras #min hawke #under a new morning sun

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fly-sky-high-bug-games · 1 year

Text

That Good(?) Mom Alyssum AU I mentioned a while back on your blog lol

Welp, this took me a while to get to for some reason!

I don’t why this took me so long to get to, but I’m doing it now so…yeah.

Enjoy my ramblings about the Good(?) Mom Alyssum AU I made!

(Important details in Italic. Also feel free to add commentary if you’d like)

===== ===== ===== ===== =====

The basic gist of this au is that when Mugo doesn’t respond to her letter, Alyssum brings the egg she made with her back to Highgrove instead of leaving it in Hallownest, believing it to be her chance to “get it right.” And by get it right, I mean NOT throwing a bunch of razor sharp petals at its face

This is all the backstory you’re getting for Alyssum being a good mom here. Though if you have any better ideas, leave it under the arrow

ANYWAYS

Onto random details!

Yonna and Sylva are still a thing in this au, don’t worry lol

Sylva and Yonna meet the same way they do in the Noble AU, only in this one they meet in their teens

Sylva and Yonna talk frequently after the party they met each other at, and Sylva eventually learns about Yonna’s home situation through little bits and pieces of conversation. Safe to say she doesn’t like what’s implied, and tells her mother about it. A month or two later, Alyssum comes home with Yonna in hand saying she’s…taken care of it

Alyssum didn’t kill Yonna’s parents by the way, however much she wished she could

Sylva, in her younger years, is babysat by members of the White Magnolia. She practically considers them family

Damascus is basically Sylva’s tough love aunt in this au. Alyssum doesn’t allow her to give her daughter nail training, but does allow her to interact with her

Yonna is still trained by Damascus in this au. Their relationship is roughly the same as well

Yonna ALSO still has her wings due to Alyssum’s early intervention. As in, before she cut her wings off

Ignyad is basically Sylva’s eccentric uncle. He gives her all sorts of gizmos and gadgets as gifts, and even teaches her some of his skills

Sylva’s birthday is a big deal for the White Magnolia. The whole group comes together and goes all out with the celebration. Gifts galore, decorations everywhere, games, you name it, they’ve got it. It’s a whole grand time

Alyssum has learned from her mistakes with Mugo, at least when it comes to lashing out. Whenever Sylva has a differing opinion from her own, she doesn’t scold her or tell her she’s wrong, and instead tries to understand why she has the opinion she has

I know I’ve set this au up like a lot of fluff, but that’s only one side of the same coin. Now we get into things that are more...dark

While Alyssum and sylva’s relationship is loving, it isn’t healthy. Allow me to explain

Alyssum has normalized violence and torture so much in Sylva’s life at such a young age that it’s just a normal part of life for her. Whenever she sees her mother torturing someone, she just shrugs and goes on with whatever she was doing

Alyssum gave Sylva lessons on torture at the age of 7. On live subjects. Do with this what you will

As she grows older, Sylva’s torture methods become more cruel and creative. She even begins to feel a sort of twisted enjoyment in torture during her teen years. Alyssum doesn’t help as she just encourages her to do what makes her happy

Sylva is equal parts cruel and kind. She has moral boundaries when it comes to her family, but when it comes to people she couldn’t give a shit about, she throws her morals out the window and makes them suffer

You would think Yonna would be better but…no. Cuz in this au, her family’s treatment of her is far, far worse. It resulted in her feeling angry at the world, and apathetic to everyone in it, save for Sylva and Alyssum, as well as some members of the White Magnolia

Yonna absolutely loathes her parents in this au. She would kill them both were they not all buddy buddy with some of the most influential people in the queen’s court. She’s lucky she was taken by the only person the queen trusts more than all of them combined

Speaking of which, Yonna’s relationship with her mother later on is basically just this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aphi7R-JNY&ab_channel=Leonie%E8%95%BE%E5%A6%AE

Yonna is much more brutal in this au when it comes to killing people in this au. Just a little tid bit.

Sylva is very obedient to her mother. If an order didn’t come from her mother’s mouth, she’s not doing.

Sylva will do anything her mother says. Her mom says run? She runs. Her mom says swim? She dives right in. Her mom says light a fire? She shows up with OIL. The only exception to this is Yonna

As you might have guessed, Sylva and Yonna are terrible people in this au. Sylva is cruel, sadistic and manipulative, and Yonna is angry, apathetic and uncaring. And yet, despite that, they somehow bring out the best in each other, with Sylva’s kindness, creativity and patience and Yonna’s determination, loyalty and sense of justice.

===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Aaaaand that’s my Good(?) Mom Alyssum AU! Let me know if I wrote any of the characters out of character too unrealistically.

See ya around!

~anon

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Hot damn! That's a lot of good detail~

This is really good, especially for me who isn't good at writing or coming up with antagonists (or at least not confident enough to feel like they're done right lol)

What's really interesting is that when you tossed me the idea for this AU in the ask (that I haven't replied to yet I'm sorry my motivation for my own OCs has been dry lately), my immediate thought was to throw a bit of counter balance to the whole "Sylva is evil and Alyssum is a good mom AU" by making Alyssum... regret things.

Here is a rough sketch of the panels (with no text since I haven't scripted a clear one yet but I have a rough idea of it in mind):

I wanted to depict a specific moment where Alyssum realizes, by watching from a third perspective now, how much Sylva is like her and it's disturbing to her. The whole raising her with care, she learned about the care and meaning of having someone close to her, something she was desperate for while with Mugo but found this sort of closeness with her daughter. However... it also made her realize what a heartless murderer she is. That Sylva turning into her feels extremely wrong.

BUT

This was all coming from my idea of creating the mention counter balance and conflict between the two (or rather within Alyssum's morals and viewpoints later on in her life), just to have something for the story, so my brain thought.

What YOU wrote though is more true to Alyssum's characters, though! That's what's most likely to happen because IT IS what Alyssum ultimately WANTED from Sylva or others, plus to have Mugo by her side.

I can't speak for Yonna but I can absolutely imagine Sylva feeding her with comforting words that are essentially tickets to hatered and anger that stem from Yonna's depression and fear she suffered from thanks to her parents.

(the fact that Alyssum doesn't kill them is far more scary and would haunt Yonna's parents for the rest of their lives lol)

All in all, I love the idea of this happy little evil murderous family you have plotted out, anon! Thank you for the thorough writing and effort! :)

and once again, I'm sorry for not answering the first ask ;u; The OC story and motivation well has been dry for months but I'm sure it's gonna get kicked up once Silksong is out (but probably with a new set of bug characters)

#submission #anon #oc stuff #AU #alyssum #silva #yonna #white magnolia #long post #since i didn't put anything under read more #i forgot to mention but the fact that you included damas and ignyad as aunt and uncle figures makes me happy XD

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bbnibini · 2 years

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eleven: what it means to be one (samael)

"Writers imagine that they cull stories from the world. I'm beginning to believe that vanity makes them think so. That it's actually the other way around. Stories cull writers from the world. Stories reveal themselves to us. The public narrative, the private narrative - they colonise us. They commission us. They insist on being told. Fiction and nonfiction are only different techniques of story telling. For reasons that I don't fully understand, fiction dances out of me, and nonfiction is wrenched out by the aching, broken world I wake up to every morning." -Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

⚠️Warning: Implied infanticide and a dash of horror elements in one of the dream sequences!

“It’s nice to meet you again, my soft-hearted junior. I am En, the Destroyer of Nations. But you can call me Balladeer.”

Balladeer. The ethereal man introduced himself as such, clasping the emblem in his hand and placing it on his chest. Samael saw it glow as it dissolved into golden rays of light; as if it were a beating heart finding its way back to its rightful place.

"Hold out your hand." The writer said, and once he did, had placed a wing-shaped emblem on his palm. It was cold metal, black as a starless night, and Samael felt weirdly drawn to it.

"Your symbol fitting for a blighted love," There was a knowing smile on En’s face that made him feel uneasy. It felt like he could see right through him; every deep secret buried deep within. Samael clenched the wing-shaped emblem in his fists and felt it resonating with his heartbeats.

"Hold onto it. It signifies that you are now a practitioner of dimensional sorcery, and you must abide by our rules once your wish is granted."

"Rules?" That term again …but what exactly does dimensional sorcery mean?

Balladeer sighed, seemingly exasperated by the question.

"Every power comes with a price. You should know that more than anyone." En was considering something, giving him a quick glance before losing himself in his own thoughts again.

"And what price must I pay?"

He didn't answer immediately, considering his words.

"We'll hold off any further explanations for now." I do not want you to back out and waste my precious time, he said further, recounting his several experiences of potential writers cowering at the weight of their future responsibilities. His midnight eyes gazed at him with his usual muted melancholy. It was a ruthless method, but Samael was desperate enough to not mind. "What is your wish?"

His wish. He did not even need to think twice. He thought of golden hair and emerald eyes—the warmth of her hand that made the bleak darkness feel…less lonely. He thought of the sea and a baby’s soft cries, their heartbeats syncing as he swathed him in seafoam and called that child his own family: his one and only brother.

“I want the ones I love to always be happy.” He said, “I want Lilith and Levi to be happy and safe. Whatever it may take, whatever life they may have.”

The Balladeer grimaced. "That’s it? That’s your wish?”

“Is something wrong with my wish?”

En didn't answer and instead, placed a hand on top of his clenched fist clasping the emblem. A faint light shone from inside his knuckles as his senior finished muttering a spell.

“Consider it done. Once the war ends, you can guarantee Lilith's safety and happiness. In fact, I would have to be honest with you and say my powers aren't even needed to guarantee it.” That knowing look again. The Balladeer laughed. “She’s very…loved, isn’t she? As for Leviathan…consider it done as well. Although…"

Either way, Samael did not care. "Is it not possible?" En shook his head. "It is more than possible. But...a god being a recipient of such a vague wish will cause a huge burden on your body. Are you fine with that?"

Ah, so that was what he meant. Samael did not even hesitate to answer. “Of course,” If it meant both their happiness, he was willing to give up everything. He turned to the Balladeer and asked again, "What happens now?"

En retraced his steps, gesturing for him to look at the sun setting on the horizon. His long hair flowed in the ocean breeze. “You will have a very long dream. Once you wake up, the war may be long over.”

!!!

Samael saw it on the Balladeer’s lips—his beautiful melancholy twisted into thorny, sadistic satisfaction. The creases in his eyes crinkled as his laughter were drowned out by ocean waves. He was tricked! But…strangely, the First Angel did not feel any resentment from his deceit. Something about the person in front of him seemed almost tragic—solitary. Hypocritical. Rather than anger…

“...your wish is now granted, Samael. It’s too late to back out now.” En wiped the corner of his eyes, his tone mocking. “Would you be comforted if I say that no matter if you are there to fight alongside them or not, Lucifer and his siblings are destined to fall?”

“I see…”

“Is that it?” En sounded disappointed. “No contradictions? Violent reactions? Had it ever crossed your mind that I may still be deceiving you now?“

Samael turned his head to the same sunset the Balladeer had been gazing at a few moments ago. “You have fulfilled my wish and I accepted your terms. I was desperate enough to accept them even without knowing what it had in store for me, so the fault lies with me, not you.”

The Balladeer’s eyes widened for a bit with his response, but it was too abrupt that it could be easily missed. The grimace that followed however, was more prominent. It shadowed his face as he faced him, unamused. “...how dull. You're too sensible to be a god, you know that? I was hoping for this boring old job to humble you, but I see I have nothing to work with."

???

"Hah, never mind.

That will be all for now. I'll answer the rest of your questions somewhere in your dreams. Samael….y…..ll…”

He felt the Balladeer touch his forehead as a bright light filled his vision.

“Until we meet again.”

He felt really sleepy…

Samael closed his eyes.

Leviathan thought his brother to be invincible.

Death was eternal, and Samael had always been with it; sometimes, even embodying it himself. His quiet strength had been his comfort over centuries, and the lullabies he had sung to him over the Dianthus fields had always brought his heart peace. So to see his brother, his only brother fall into slumber, uncertain of either death or life had been difficult for the sea god to understand.

No healers nor doctors were able to determine the cause. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’, one said. ‘It’s as if he’s in a very long dream, so we could only wait for him to wake up.’another said. Without the First Angel’s support, their military strength had decreased significantly. He saw Lilith stay by his brother’s side every day and every night, tending to him faithfully with little sleep. Her human lover rested alongside him, increasing her worries.

“It’s okay, Levi. I can still take a shift. You should go with the others.”

Was she really okay? Lilith had a talent for worrying others—somehow, she reminds him of himself. Even if she means well, she was insensitive to others’ concerns for her. Awakening had only made him acutely aware of his brother being the primary recipient of those concerns. It was almost funny to see their roles reversed.

“Grand Admiral, I really am okay.”

Grand Admiral.

There was that too. It was easier to accept such a heavy responsibility on his shoulders with Samael around. His brother believed in him, praised him for every thoughtful strategy, and held him quietly when each one(although done in everyone’s best interests), caused unwanted casualties.

As more and more men had fallen, the heavy feeling in his chest only made it harder to breathe. Leviathan did not regret the decisions he had made that led him to this point, but like everyone else, he wished it didn’t have to end this way.

In fact, he could not understand his brother when he told him of Father’s kindness and mercy. If He was really kind and merciful, why would he let His own children fight each other? Rather than kind or merciful, Leviathan had always thought Father to be rather childish. He should know, for he was once one.

But, he wanted to be better than Him. He wanted to save as many lives as possible and end the war. He remembered holding his brother’s hand, unable to sleep when he first heard the news of Lady Azrael’s passing—despite being in the enemy faction, she was the only seraph who still seemed to care about them. She pleaded for the missives to be sent and convinced Father for each side to have equal ground. She mourned as much as they did as she ferried the lost souls in his brother’s absence. The angels did not take the news well either, but mourning was a luxury in times of war.

Lilith changed after that. There was a hardness to her that Leviathan could not explain—almost like Lucifer’s quiet rage as he brandished his sword on the battlefield; she took her bow and arrow and fought alongside them by the day, and by night, he heard her sob softly in the barracks, whispering someone’s name.

Levi began to lose count of the days—casualty after casualty. Bloodshed after bloodshed. Each of their numbers diminished, and even the healers had to pick up their weapons and fight.

He would sometimes catch himself asking questions in his short-lived dreams:

When will it end?

When will peace be obtained?

Will his brother ever wake up?

Unfortunately, answered questions came with consequences. For something to end, one side must forfeit…and it was theirs that had.

It all happened too fast—an arrow plunged into Lilith and caused her to fall—with no one to catch her, she was fatally wounded. Lucifer called off the war and admitted defeat, holding her desperately as he begged Father to save her life.

It was the first time Leviathan had seen “Him”. His cold eyes looked at the sight of them, void of any humanity that he Himself had created. Instead, with a booming voice, He said:

“Your side had lost, Helel. You must face the consequences.” He recognised that beam of light—it had been the same one Michael had used to strike upon Lilith on the public trial. Something in Leviathan snapped. He shielded his friends and took the hit for them once more, glaring at their sham of a Father. He shouted, “I won’t let that happen!”

“...sea god.” He said, deathly uninterested. “Challenging Me will only be futile. Do you really wish for us to continue this war?”

Seawater filled the ground as Levi tried to keep the thin threads of his composure. Merciful his ass. This “Father” was nothing but a self-absorbed jerk!

But, He was right. If he and his friends will fight again, he wasn’t sure if any of them would come out alive. He took in a deep breath and answered,

“What are your terms?”

“Leviathan…” Lucifer’s face paled as he turned to him. “You shouldn’t involve yourself any further.”

He shook his head and looked at the morning star with a resolute expression. “It would have been what brother had done if he were here.”

Lucifer bit his lip and looked down, holding Lilith close to him. He sighed deeply. “...you have my thanks.”

“Your brother…” He heard Father interrupt from above, gazing at a patch of land in the distance—it was the direction of their barracks where Samael had slumbered. “If Samael will remain in Heaven, I will retract my sentence.”

Leviathan scoffed; he did not trust Him at all. “Is that all?” He was not the best at bluffing, but he wanted to get under His skin. His “impartial omniscience” was all just embellished apathy. Did He not care about his brother at all?

Father did not react. Instead, he answered with the same lackadaisical tone, “Of course not. If you accept My terms, all of you will lose Heaven’s favour forever, and you, sea god will face punishment for tampering with the fates of My children on My own domain.”

Forever?

Will he never see his brother forever? No…when his brother wakes up. Surely…

…but when will that be?

He looked at the injured Lilith, barely holding on. He clenched his fists.

This is the only way…

“I…accept.”

Father remained void of any emotion as He made a quick gesture with His hands. From his peripheral, Leviathan saw Lucifer and his siblings become enveloped in the same bright light that struck him—and when it faded, their angelic forms were now replaced by blackened wings and horns.

“Helel, My morning star

Sachiel, My shield

Ashmedaiel, My jewel

Bael, My flames

Belfagel, My moon

Liliatuel, My evening

From now on, all of you are no longer My children.

I hereby banish you from my Kingdom.

As for you, sea god–”

Before He could even gesture His hands towards him, the ground he was standing on felt like air…

He was falling…

…and a bright light was filling his vision.

!!!

It was warm and familiar. He could recognise it anywhere.

Tears streamed down the sea god’s face as he let himself be bathed in it.

“Brother…”

His brother was okay. He felt so relieved.

…

His brother…

His dearest brother…

Leviathan could barely see anything else in his vision. But, he could hear a voice:

Lucifer’s piercing screams from afar—alongside his torn wings emerged golden hair and emerald eyes...

…but it was not the gravely injured Lilith in Mammon’s arms.

It was—

… his presence was unnoticed by no one—like a shadow, he had always been looming in the morningstar’s heart—inextinguishable anger, cast away, unneeded, like the night He separated from the day...

…when Leviathan closed his eyes, he saw a pair of kind, blue ones gazing at him.

"There, there. Don't cry, little one."

Someone important, someone so dear and so familiar and so….warm…

"Your name will be Leviathan…"

…like the light and the gentle wind accompanying it, cushioning his fall.

"My dearest…b.."

…but, he couldn’t remember.

"Leviathan…"

"Y…r…br…er…loves you…"

Several million doors had greeted Samael once he started "dreaming". They opened and closed. Were Knocked on and locked. Some had knobs that turned, while others opened with the sound of one’s voice. There were tiny doors and double doors—doors of glass and steel and gold and silver. For each one that opened, and each one that closed, the same man had emerged from another. He didn’t seem to notice him, but Samael could tell that for each millionth door that was opened, he grew more and more frustrated. This went on for a bit more until that man finally spoke.

“...this is most troublesome.” That man said, gazing at a particular door most intently. “ He must be so desperate to reunite with them to waste my time like this.”

“Um…”

“With the way they are, they might figure out his schemes eventually. The question is… when?”

“Excuse me…”

“Still, I need to hurry if–”

“Excuse me, sir.”

That man finally turned to face him, his emerald eyes widening as they locked gazes.

“Sorry...my true form always-”

The man shook his head, his tired eyes relaxing as he smiled at him.

“No, please forgive me for my rudeness.”

The man bowed slightly as he introduced himself. “My name is Barbatos. And I believe…as of the moment, you are Samael, aren’t you?”

!!!

As of the moment?

“Ah, please forgive me once again.” Barbatos cleared his throat, carefully considering his words. “To put things simply, I am what you would consider, your…future co-worker. “I” am a dimensional sorcerer as well. Knowing our true names is one of the established rules.”

“Oh…”

Barbatos smiled sympathetically at him. “En roped you into this quite ruthlessly, didn’t he?” He showed him an hourglass-shaped emblem to prove he was telling the truth.

“My situation is quite complicated as of the moment, though I would spare you the details.”

Samael shook his head at him, reassuring him it was all right.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Barbatos?”

“Help me?”

“...I haven’t quite grasped the rules yet…but from what I understand so far, we operate the same as gods, don’t we? Time is irrelevant to all of us.” Samael pointed out the inconsistencies of their timelines—of how he had come from the past, and Barbatos mentioned that he was from the future. “And…you aren’t really a dimensional sorcerer…”

“My situation is quite complicated as of the moment, though I would spare you the details.”

“...but you aren’t exactly lying.” He pointed at the emblem. “That…isn’t yours. You’re safekeeping it for someone else. Are they also the reason why you couldn’t get past the doors?”

Barbatos looked really relieved with his words. As if he were an oasis in an endless desert. He smiled. “Yes, you’ve guessed everything correctly. As you have said, I am not the owner of this emblem; therefore, I could not use its powers. Though, because the owner and I are one and the same, I am currently faced with this paradox.” Pertaining to the malfunctioning doors.

Samael felt like he was beginning to understand the extent of their powers now.

If gods are Higher Beings of order, and demon kings are Higher Beings of chaos…

…then dimensional sorcerers are neither. Not even a balance of both. Rather, they are the aberrations and the exceptions to Universal Truths. They are the hypothetical; the unknown.

“You mentioned you and the owner are one and the same. Then…is the owner of the emblem a version of you from the future?"

It was a sensible conclusion, but Barbatos found it difficult to give him an answer. "Time isn't exactly…linear as you may know. But you could say that is quite right." He gestured to one of the doors and opened it.

"Space as well." And as it opened, he placed an arm inside. "Do you mind going in front of that red door?" Samael looked confused, but obliged, hearing a knock coming from the red door the other writer had pointed to. Samael opened it and saw Barbatos' arm waving at him.

"You can come back here now." He shouted from afar.

"As you can see, these doors are portals to different timelines and dimensions. But, as this domain doesn't recognise me as its true owner, I am only going in circles."

Barbatos shut the door he used for his demonstration and sighed. "I tried to force ownership of this emblem but it doesn't seem to be working."

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Samael retrieved his own emblem and frowned. "From the looks of it, you need an outsider's interference to get out of this domain. Do you mind if I try? It doesn't break any rules, does it?"

Barbatos had a wry smile. "You said it yourself: I am not a dimensional sorcerer, so I don't see why not."

Samael nodded and began to concentrate. He could sense magic in each door—it was similar to the magic he could sense from Barbatos, but not exactly the same. It was faint enough that he felt like he could overwrite it, so he did so for a few million doors before he suddenly felt dizzy.

"That's enough, Samael." Barbatos held him by the arm and shook his head. "You've already done more than enough."

"..."

"Don't push yourself. If you use too much of your powers without a proper pseudonym, you would put yourself in danger."

He felt too tired to ask him what he meant so he only nodded.

The demon sat him down and chanted a healing spell to recover some of his strength. "You're almost as reckless as someone I know. But, I appreciate it."

"It's nothing."

"It's not ‘nothing ’ to me at all." Barbatos smiled and summoned a door in front of them. "As a token of my thanks, please have this."

"A door?"

The demon nodded. "You're on a very long journey of your own, aren't you? This door will lead you closer to that. I apologise if this is the best I can do with what little power I have in here.

Please excuse me if I must go first. I need to hurry and meet with someone."

He did seem to be in a hurry when he first met him. He was just happy that he could help.

"Good luck Barbatos, it's a pleasure meeting you."

Barbatos smiled again as he opened another door,

"I'll see you again soon…"

…and called him by a name he didn't own.

"Christopher Peugeot."

He could hear someone crying as he closed the door.

A garbled voice he could barely understand.

"̵̣͕̣̲͑.̷̪̐͊.̴̲̹̯͑̍͐̿̂͜.̴̼̼̰͊̇͗y̷͓̝̅͘ ̷̗̬̟̪̂̽̿̎m̷͈̫͎̗̜̅̓e̷̦̹͕͓͈͑?̴̥͎͓̺̀͒ͅ"̸̣͚̖̺̒

"M̵̺͍͎͒͝o̵͕̪̖͍̺͙͕̪̹̰̪̳̦̫͐̍t̸̫̯̱̻̟̜̂̿̑ḣ̷̡̤̮̳̟̭̥͋̈̆͂͐́͝ͅe̵̲̬̝̬͐͐̀̑̈́̉́̉̚̚ṛ̶͍̻͎̫̲̳͍͚̩̦̪͕͈̺͋͋̏̀̉͝.̷̟͆́͂̍̑͐̂̍̈̇͠͝͝.̷̨̡̺̹̩̫̥͉͙̼͍̠̙̳̗̖̮̃͋̊̋͆́͝͠.̶̧̞̰̺̊̔̏͊̇̈́̃͝͠f̷̠̦͘͠à̵̧̡̛͖̰̱̘̱̣̖̪̠̣̫̋̅͒̏t̵̥̮̦̩̟̜͕̺̫̱͚̤͎̑͐̆͘̕͜h̷̠̹̙͈̩͙̞̞̮͍͈̺̮̮̤̉̐̔̆̀̇͌̚͘͠͝ͅȩ̶̧͙̤̬̼̰̼͚̏̅̀̓̄͆̃͒̏̕r̶̠̩̪͔͉̠̻̠̅̈̎̍͌̋́̆̑͜͝.̴̧͎̤̩͕̦͙̻̫̈́̅̽͋́̓́͌̿͑̕̕͠͝.̸̨̨̘͙͈̟̱̪̏̈͋̎̑̅́̈́͗̂̈́́̏̚̚͠͝.̴̢̧̖͔̠̖̪̭͍͙̬̙͂̆̀̏͛͒̈́̈́͑̊̋͠"̸̨̢̜͇͓̩͖̼̗͇̹͚͙̖̼͓̚̚"

When he approached the source of the voice, he found himself in a lavish palace. There stood a young boy being soothed by someone who looked to be his mother.

"I can hear him, Nessa. He's still there."

"...him?"

He nodded, his gold and silver eyes reflecting the night sky above him.

"Yes, my—"

"̸̨̂͘W̸͓̫̟̲̑̕ḩ̴̝̳̿̔y̸̰̆̐̈ ̴͖̪̱̇̔̄d̷͖̼͔͔͑̌̄͠ô̸̳̝̎͝ ̴̯̊̅t̷̢̟͉̰̒h̸̥̓̈͝é̴͍y̸̖̣͂ ̶͔̈́͒̾ͅh̶͎͑͆̉̃a̴̡̝̬̍̎̈́͝t̷̟͈̏̈́̽͑ĕ̴̩̌ ̵̠̹̒̕m̴̺̰̄̔ė̴͖̥͇̆͘?̵̬͍̄"̴̥͛̐̉

̵̣͚͈͊̈́͜"̴͈̫̔̽̒́W̴̄ͅh̴̼̥̳̩͋̇̃̓a̶̡̟͊̇t̷̳̆̌́̈́ ̴̬̻̫̭͠d̵̨̛̥̩̭í̷̙̜ḍ̵̼̯͎̉͗͝͝ ̶̙͇̰̞̂͛̿́I̵͕̩̔̀ ̴͔̮͚̏d̷͍̏͘o̴͕͇̓̀͜?̶̪̳̦̫̒"̵̧̬̬̺̿͗͂

̸͉̒̊̕"̸͈̺͈͌̅̔W̸̬̖̮̓́̔͜h̷̨̙͙̩̀ẙ̷̟ͅ ̶͎̳̃̉̌ẅ̷̱̙̖̭͌͋̈́ä̶̯͍̞̘́͐̔͝s̸͖̬̳͇̽̿́͑ ̶̞̞͙̭̔͊̆I̸̛̲̻̱̗͑ ̶̰̏͌͘ḅ̷͖̫̟̿͗ơ̴̱͔̘̱̎̿̕r̷̪͈͐͑̈́n̶̼̫̳̄͐̕ͅ?̸̽͐ͅ"̵̹̼͚͂̽̒

"Your—?"

That child nodded.

"Yes. Everyone says "he" doesn't exist. But he had always been with me. In fact, he's here with us right now."

"Young prince..."

"It's true, Nessa." His eyes looked blankly at an empty space between them. The Desert Queen felt the hairs on her back rise as the young prince spoke his words nonchalantly. "That's why...I have to always be there for him...

.̷͍͚͎̯̟͓̤̥͋̈́͝.̸͓̦̥̰͈̟͕̓͗̃͊̊̍̀.̸̛̳̬͚̠͉͖͖͐̽̾̆̌̂̿͜.̶̞͉͎̙̲͈̣̤̟̦́͋͗́b̶̢͖̤̣̥̱̜̜͗͒͋̑̍̄̅̉̕e̸̯̳̮̭͚͋̀͌͜ͅc̵̨̅̉͑̌́̿̾̈̏͋̚͝a̷̘̲̻̞̭̣̝̼̮͊̓̈́̊͂͘ų̶̞̼̱̱̻̝̭̍̒̒́̃̑͐͛̽͌͝ͅš̶͕̐̎͝ę̸̡̧̗̱͇̟̖̟̭̠̆͠ ̵̛͉͓͖̾͂͒̊̑͂̄͒̕ͅI̴͔͉͉̳͂͐̍͗͒͛̋͊̔̒'̸͙̳̩̠̙̗̮̱̂̓̿̇m̶̭̼͌̒͠ ̴͈̿́̉͂͂͒͘t̵̡̻̠͍̠̬͚̍́̚͜͠͝h̴̰̩̯͓͎͚̝͝e̴̛̻͍̖̰̗̗̪͍̖̱̾͛̏̽̕ ̴̮̥̲̘̙͕̈́͠ř̸̢̢̪͙̣̠͙̳̜̹́͗͗̉͗͋͋ͅe̵̯̘̞̮̦̜͕̠̒̃͆̀̾̓͜͜ͅạ̵̡̢̳̰̠̝̝͔̳́̾͗̆̐́́́̎̌͠ş̵̱͙̄̀̂̅̿̕ő̵̻͇̄͌̄̄n̸̮̂̆̄͋͊̒́͝ ̷̭͈̦̳̜̥̘̅͊͛̐͑͆̕w̸͚̣̓̀̆͒̉̎̾͌̉ḩ̵̛̫̺̱͙͋̂̀̒̐ȳ̶̧̢̩̣͇͛ ̶̛̭͈̼̦̥̦̹̺̓̽́̃̌̀̓͠h̶̫͚͉̺̞̪̝̫̻͛́̏̿̈̆̓̕é̶̯̭̝̹̲̘̠̅̇̚'̴̮̪̞̲̥͔̺͎̝̜̯͌͂̔͗̽́̃̆̍̍s̶̛̬̤̘̭̮͔͆̔̏̈́̇̌̍̂̋͘͠ ̸̮̹͊̾d̴̻̜̼͒͑̓̒̀̀͂͛̚e̴̻̤͛á̴͇̃̐̈́̈́̊͆̚d̸̨̖̜̜̟̉̓͂.̸̧̝͎̺̳͎̝̘̭̞̍͑̒̾̊̄͂͋̈́"̸̯̰̬͖̙͈̐̊̍̒͐̌͝

The scenery changed around him—and now, he could see himself by a tombstone. That child was now a young man; from raven hair to a muted white. His solemn eyes gazing at the sky never changed. If anything, he seemed to have grown even more brooding as he aged.

He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.

‘Peace’, his mother said. And so peace his name had become–a vessel of obeisance and servitude; repentance to his father’s infidelity. Along with forgiveness, something else was lost. Not entirely human, lower than filth and mud, cursed to non-existence. The lull of Purgatory silenced its garbles and cries, and only he could seem to hear it.

“אח קטן…”

Ḧ̶̪́̍o̵̳̅w̴̻͛͠ͅ ̵̫͂n̶̻̟̕o̶̘͆̈́b̶̺̖̈l̶̲̭̉e̴̬̣͂̐ ̸̺̎̒ã̶̮͉n̷̪͌́d̸̦̏ ̵̣̄͝b̴̬̽l̷͙͎̒ė̶̹̙̆s̵̞͇̓ṣ̸̕ȅ̶̝d̸͇̀͗ ̷̣͗̈́ỹ̵͕̬͝ö̸̟́ǘ̵̟̰͌ ̷͇̟̂h̴̜̻̏ä̵̻̯́̓v̴̻̠͂e̶̜͗̔ ̷̲͇́̋b̵̞̮͌͠ȩ̷́͒c̷͈̀̒ö̶̦̩́͆m̶͓̬̌͆e̷̤͌.̸̱̦̄̇

“אח קטן!”

U̴͇̿n̵͖̻̐l̷̝̿̂i̶̝̤̇̈́k̴̗͇̓͠ḙ̵̝͗ ̸̘̍m̷̀͂͜ė̶̠͉̂,̶̰̐ ̶̖̣͂̿u̸̧͂ń̶̥l̷͈̑͆ï̸̧̚ͅk̴̼̈́e̷̫̗̿͘ ̷̗̟̎̐m̵͈̏͝ĕ̷̜̙.̸̱̔

He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.

Pretending he didn’t know. He shouldn’t know.

Samael felt his chest ache as he gazed at the sight: why does that child seem familiar? He had never seen him before. But…something about the quiet sorrow in his face reminded him of someone familiar…

His gold and silver eyes turned in his direction as if noticing him, and called that unfamiliar name again:

“Mr. Peugeot?”

That name again.

But before he could reply back, he saw a blinding light fill his vision, and he was in another “dream” again.

Several dreams followed and he had finally encountered En. As was promised, he was taught how to wield his powers and was given a brief rundown of his “role”. However, for each encounter, he had with the Balladeer, and every bit of information he had learned from him in each, his biggest question remained unanswered. That was why he decided to ask En himself.

“Who is Christopher Peugeot? And why do they keep calling me that?”

En had a small smile on his face as he heard the question: as if he were waiting for it. The same, knowing smile he had given him when he possessed his emblem. “You’ll find out very soon.” He pointed his index finger in a particular direction and said, “Your answer is waiting for you right over there.”

He wasn’t prepared to find out who was waiting for him in the direction En had pointed him to.

!!!

Soft brown eyes and a bewildered look on his face. But unlike Lilith, he was able to mask his fear with a warm smile.

“Ah, so this is what you actually look like. It’s nice to see you again, Simeon.”

"You couldn't even talk back. What happened to your willingness to see your wrongs?"

"..."

"There is nothing to say, Father?"

"...none at all."

"....yet You wish to reconcile with the child You cast away. The child You treated like Your equal out of Your own selfishness when all that he wanted was a family. And now that he had forged a path of his own and left You behind, You wish...to understand him, to satisfy Your ego? What if he doesn't want to come back?"

"...I'm not expecting him to."

"Really?"

"Are you even seeing Me right now when you speak to me? Or am I someone else?"

"You gods all look and act the same. Samael and the sea god are the rare exceptions."

"..."

"You can still be a Father to him, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Prince told me of the future of this timeline--- "Christopher" will offer his emblem to "Nathan" in order to save him. You know what that means, don't you?"

"!!!"

"Isn't that what he asked of you when you first met him? You'll finally be able to fulfil his wish***."

"..."

"So, what will you do...El?"

***This refers to little Samael pleading Father to kill him in Chapter 1. Because of the heavy burdens of his newfound heart, he told El that he would rather not exist. But instead of fulfilling his wish, El took him to Heaven and called him His own child. Of course, that was until Samael got older. El had forgotten his promise and pressured him to embrace his godhood so they can be equals instead.

tl;dr- El is a helicopter parent and is trying to shape Samael to His own expectations, ideals and needs, completely disregarding his feelings.

#obey me #genshin impact #hamartia series #eien #obey me simeon #obey me lilith #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #scaramouche #lilith x simeon #lilith x samael #lilith x christopher peugeot

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