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starglitterz · 2 years

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down memory lane.

; five memories which you swear make you fall in love with him all over again each time you remember them.

feat ; kaeya x gn!reader

info ; hi luce !! ( @glazelilyy ) i'm your secret santa for axia's event :D !! i hope you like the fic, after writing it ive almost been converted to a kaeya simp LOL,,, happy holidays darling <3 !!

#1.

the first time you had a conversation with kaeya was, coincidentally, during a storm as fearsome as the one that had been raging on the night he was found outside the mansion. you were spending the night at a sleepover with your best friends; diluc and jean, but due to the horror stories the three of you had been telling each other earlier in the night, you couldn’t get to sleep. the deafening sound of booming thunder combined with the flickering candle in your shared bedroom casting terrifying shadows onto the walls sent your imagination into overdrive, and you decided to sneak out to get a warm glass of water – perhaps that would help calm your nerves.

yet unfortunately, the corridor you stepped out into suddenly seemed ten times more imposing than it ever was during the day, with rays of sunlight shining through the windows and dappling the aged carpets. however, you swallowed your fear and continued trudging along, hoping against hope that perhaps some angel would come swoop you up and give you both the water and then tuck you into bed. your wish for company was granted, although not in the way you desired, as the sound of sniffling suddenly became audible as you tiptoed through the hallway. you froze in your spot, pressing yourself against the wall to see in the futile wish that it would make you invisible to whatever spectre you were sure was about to form. but as time passed and no ghost appeared, you summoned all your courage and managed to trace the sound to kaeya’s bedroom. you had never been inside there, and you didn’t particularly want tonight to be the first time either, but his crying was so pitiful that you felt it would be criminal to leave him alone there. so, with as much bravery as you could muster, you turned the doorknob and let yourself in.

the sight in front of you nearly broke your heart.

the force of a strong gale had swung open kaeya’s window, sending the torrential rain indoors, soaking the entire bed. kaeya was desperately trying to close it, but the flashing lightning and howling wind would strike fear into the hearts of even the most lionhearted knight, and this poor young boy was no exception. tears were streaming down his cheeks as he attempted the fruitless endeavour, and his hands were trembling with nervousness and exhaustion – you had no idea how long he had been struggling with this.

“kaeya?” your voice was piercing, like a knife slicing through butter it cuts through all the noise and prompting the boy to turn to you. he’s beautiful, was what you thought even then as you gazed at him properly for the first time. his blue hair fell in front of his face, concealing one eye, but the other was a deep aqua, which was brimming over with tears. his right hand clutched the windowsill, but his left reached out to you, a wordless plea hidden within the simple action, ‘help me’.

to this day, you’re not entirely sure how you did it either, but somehow you and kaeya ended up warming up to one another downstairs in the kitchen, with the latter wrapped in bundles of blankets and a spare pyjama set you borrowed from diluc. (you were sure he wouldn’t mind.) as you chattered aimlessly about pretty much everything under the sun, kaeya gazed at you with a wonderstruck expression, and soon the ice broke enough for him to occasionally reply and chime in with his own thoughts – his voice was soft and shy, but it was better than the previous silence. as you shared anecdotes about your daily life at the winery, and kaeya listened eagerly with his sporadic responses, somehow both of you felt more at home than ever before, an undeniable and unexplainable bond beginning to form between the two of you.

#2.

“ow!” you yell, crouching down to the ground and huddling up in a small ball as you stare in horror at your scraped knee. “are you okay?” kaeya is by your side in an instant, concern filling his eyes as he scans the injury and your face. you’re sobbing so hard you can’t form a coherent answer, and you settle for violently shaking your head. “aw, don’t cry,” kaeya murmurs, one thumb wiping away the tears from your cheeks as your sniffling quietens down from the comforting feeling of his warm hand against your face, “you’re strong, alright?” you nod, rubbing your eyes with your fists to dry off the last of your tears, “thanks, kaeya.” “now, i'll race you inside, whoever gets there first gets to pick the band-aid!” he says, a mischievous smirk curving his lips. “you’re on!” you cheer, pain forgotten as you stand up and start running. “i didn’t even say go yet!” he calls out, only for you to reply, “you snooze, you lose!” “hey!” in hindsight, it didn’t actually hurt that much, but you suppose that at the time it would have felt like a broken leg when you considered how you had to stop playing for a while. you also know kaeya let you win, no matter how much he tries to deny it, and that only makes you even luckier to have him.

#3.

a large butterfly sits on kaeya’s nose, his eyes wide open and cross-eyed as he tries to focus on it. the two of you are completely still, the only movement from the flapping of its wings and the rustling grass. a gentle breeze whispers through the air, caressing your cheek and sending strands of kaeya’s blue hair blowing in every direction. you can’t help but giggle as you see the messiness of his previously neat hair, which sets kaeya off too, until you both collapse into a pile of laughter. the butterfly is evidently surprised by all the action, and it flies away, disappearing into a speck in the distance at the speed of light even as both you and kaeya crane your neck to see its path. he waves solemnly, and you quickly apologise for scaring it away before you both could figure out what species it was. “it’s fine,” kaeya grins at you, flicking his hair out of his face, “laughing with you is better than some silly old butterfly anyway.” until now, that remains one of the sweetest things he has ever said to you, especially because the statement rang with childish honesty.

#4.

rain pours down from the dark sky above, the downpour coming out of nowhere from what was previously a sunny day. it’s a summer shower, perfect for dancing in the rain, which is exactly what you and kaeya are doing. “we’re too old for this, aren’t we?” you query, the weight of the title ‘teenager’ making you feel far more ancient than you actually are. “no such thing as too old for fun!” kaeya beams, grabbing your hand to pull you close and twirl you in a grand dance. both of your clothes are drenched, and you’re certain you’re going to catch a cold tomorrow, but the joy you’re experiencing now in this moment outweighs any potential consequences.

even when he’s skipping amidst the puddles, it amazes you how talented kaeya is at dancing; his movements are so graceful and fluid it’s astonishing. you don’t even realise your jaw has dropped and you’re staring until he comments, “don’t worry, looking is free!” that’s another recent development – his flirtatious nature, which somehow never fails to send heat rushing to your cheeks and embarrassment flooding your heart. “like i'd pay for that!” you retort, although you can’t hide the smile playing about your lips.

kaeya moves closer, until there’s barely any distance between you, the proximity sending your heart beating a million miles per hour. “well, would you pay for this?” he asks softly, before tilting your chin up to his and closing the gap between the two of you with a kiss. it's innocent, even slightly hesitant, but one thing’s for sure; his lips seem to be moulded to fit against yours, like two puzzle pieces linking up to form a perfect picture. you're so surprised you can’t even gasp, only able to melt into a kiss and realise that you’re actually overjoyed this is happening. the sense that the feelings you’ve been trying to quench for so long finally being reciprocated makes you want to jump around and shout, but for now you’ll settle for enjoying this long-awaited kiss.

when he finally breaks away, kaeya leans his forehead against yours, “well, would you?” “hm… i think i could get you to do it again for free,” you giggle playfully, twisting a strand of his wet hair around your finger. “i can’t deny that,” kaeya chuckles before pressing his lips against yours once more.

till this day, you’re certain that was the most marvellous first kiss anybody could ever dream of, it was practically a fairytale! and also till now, you make fun of kaeya, claiming that you’re going to start charging him for kisses whenever he comes home late from work.

#5.

this memory is one that you treasure more than the rest and keep close to your heart like a dragon hoarding a priceless jewel; the first time the two of you ever exchanged the classic eight letters of ‘i love you’ in a romantic manner. considering how often you both said this as friends growing up, it isn’t shocking that it happened so easily. in fact, you both didn’t even realise until later, and it’s safe to say that kaeya was quite the blushing mess at work, while you were dazed all day at your job, to the point where the teasing from your friends was endless as they tried to guess what had happened.

like any other regular day, the two of you had made lunchboxes for each other. it was a tacit habit you and kaeya kept up from your schooldays, and it was a silent way of reminding your partner that you cared for them. however, thanks to a faulty alarm clock, the two of you were running late today. because of that, kaeya couldn’t give you your daily morning kiss, which you both agree definitely starts the day off on a good note and sets the tone for the rest of it. so, as he was rushing out the door, you tossed him his lunchbox and called out, “take care, i love you!” “i love you too!” was his immediate reply, and a second later the door slammed shut. when it finally registered in both your minds, you nearly combusted, while kaeya practically melted. it had seemed so perfect, and that was how you both realised you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together – you wanted to wake up to that every day.

when you and kaeya got home, he swept you up in a kiss as soon as he saw you. with the hugest, most idiotic grin on his face, kaeya peppered light kisses all over your face, punctuating each one with an, “i love you!” after he pulled away, you couldn’t stop smiling, and your face was so hot you wondered if you could cook an egg on it. “i love you too, kaeya,” you beam, pulling him into a hug and nuzzling into his chest, and you’re sure that truer words have never been spoken.

you've known kaeya forever, and even after all this time, you’re not over the butterflies and you doubt you ever will be – as if the stars themselves aligned to match you both, the two of you are perfect together.

quill speaks !

AKJWDKJASKDJ LUCE I RLLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT IM SORRY IF ITS CONFUSING OR DOESNT MAKE SENSE 😭😭😭 ILYSM MWAH HAPPY HOLIDAYS !!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

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plaidbooks · 3 years

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The R Drug part 2

A/N: I promise I still have summer bingo fics ready to go, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. This is a part 2 to The R Drug, and is a lot of talking and exposition, and a lot of Sonny hating himself. This will most likely get a part 3. No chapter will ever be darkfic or as dark as the first one was. It’s only up from here.

Tags: self-loathing, mentions of rape (like, one line--references first fic heavily) and therapy, otherwise none, just a lot of angst with a maybe happy ending?

Words: 4657

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

For the first few days, you sat on the couch in pain and exhaustion, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. The doctor said that you were severely dehydrated and had kept both you and Sonny overnight after the club, though separated. Olivia and Amanda interviewed you, while Fin interviewed Sonny. You were both then sent on leave until you could come back to work…if you could come back at all.

Thankfully, you weren’t pregnant. But you were sore, every movement causing aches and pains as you shuffled around your apartment. Obviously, you weren’t pressing charges, and neither was Sonny; what happened was a freak accident, something you never wanted to think about again, but knew you’d have to in order to move past it.

When you could finally walk normally again, you went to a therapist. It took a while to find a groove; therapists specializing in rape victims had trouble dealing with the fact that while yes, you were a victim, you were also a perpetrator. The other strange thing was that you weren’t angry with Sonny; you were angry with yourself. You assaulted him, just as he assaulted you. And that was the part that was eating you up inside.

It took months of therapy, going every day and working through your confused and frustrated emotions before you finally came to terms with what had happened. You were ready to put your badge and gun back on, ready to move on with your life. You missed your job, your squad. But most of all, you missed Sonny. He was your best friend before all of this happened, and you hadn’t seen nor talked to him since the club. You missed his boyish charm, his bright smile and his loud laugh. You missed the little inside jokes you had together, and the late nights spent curled on the couch, watching reality TV and sports. You missed your Sonny.

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

On Monday morning, four months after the club incident, you made your way into the familiar precinct. You were heading for Olivia’s office when you stopped short. Both Amanda and Fin were at their desks like normal. Even your desk was how you left it; a few photos, baskets to hold paperwork, little knick-knacks that made it yours. But Sonny’s desk, the one next to yours, was completely different. There wasn’t a single photo of any Carisi, no Mets or Islanders memorabilia, no nothing that made it his. Instead, there was a picture of two men, one you didn’t recognize posing with…Deputy Chief Dodds?

Before you could ask questions, Amanda said, “that’s Mike Dodds’s desk. He’s the new Sergeant.”

“Where’s Carisi’s desk,” you asked, turning to look at her.

But it was Fin who answered. “He doesn’t have one.” You swore you got whiplash turning to look at Fin so quickly. “He turned in his badge and gun months ago…just after the club fiasco.”

“What?” you almost yelled. You were loud enough that Olivia heard you, and she and the new guy—Mike?—came out of her office. She beckoned you to her office, and you passed by Mike, who tried to give you a smile that you did not return.

“Welcome back—” Olivia started before you cut her off.

“Carisi’s gone?!”

She closed the door behind you before taking a seat at her desk. She motioned for you to sit, and you all but collapsed into the chair. “I tried to keep him, to talk him out of quitting. But he refused, saying he needed to work through things. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.”

You stared in disbelief at the top of her desk. Sonny was gone. You had to talk to him, had to see him. You said as much to Liv.

“If you think you can get through to him, then by all means. Because it’s been hard around here not having two of my best detectives,” she replied. “Dodds has been a godsend, but he doesn’t replace either of you, and especially not both of you.”

You nodded. “I’ll talk to him, try and bring him back.”

“I wish you luck. I think he’ll listen to you; you were close before…all this.”

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

After leaving the precinct, you tried texting and calling Sonny, but to no avail. In fact, it was going straight to voicemail, as if his phone were dead or off. So, you swung by his apartment. You buzzed his place, but a deep, gruff man answered.

“I just moved in a few months ago; the previous owner seemed to be in a hurry to move out,” he said. Clinging to the hope that this was still Sonny just trying to put on a fake accent, you buzzed a neighbor. But they confirmed that Sonny had moved out a couple months ago, and that a new tenant moved in.

Out of desperation, you tracked down a phone book, and looked up his parent’s place. Then you took the drive out to Staten Island. You shifted nervously on the porch, waiting for an answer after knocking.

A woman in her 60s, who could only be Mrs. Carisi, answered. Her eyes darted to your waistband, the badge there, then back to yours. You watched them slowly fill with tears.

“Please, don’t tell me yet,” she muttered, and you furrowed your brow. “Don’t tell me my Bambino is…is…” she hiccupped, and you understood; she thought you were here to deliver the news that Sonny was dead.

“No, no! I’m actually…I’m Carisi’s partner…or I was. I’m just…having a hell of a time tracking him down,” you quickly explained.

She sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Well, I hope you do find him.”

“You mean…you don’t know where he is?” you asked, heart sinking.

She shook her head. “He told us he needed some time, and that he’d be in touch. That was the last we saw or heard from him, and that was back in March.” It was June now, and you were realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

You nodded, muttering out an apology for bothering her as you turned away, but she grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Please, if you find Sonny, tell him we love him. And that we want him to come home.”

“Of course,” you replied before leaving, holding back tears until you were back in your car.

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

Your first real clue as to where Sonny went came through looking at his bank statements. There, you found a one-way trip to Genoa, Italy. Without too much thought behind it, you booked a flight, texted Olivia your intentions, then headed to the airport. In your hurry, you didn’t pack, didn’t even book a place to stay. You only had one thing on your mind, and it was to find Sonny Carisi.

With the clothes on your back, your phone, passport, and wallet full of bills that you converted to euros, you got on the one-way trip to Genoa.

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

You barely slept on the plane, landing early in the morning. The sun was just peaking over the beautiful Italian landscape. Even in your exhaustion and worry, you had to stop and appreciate the architecture of a different country. Genoa was beautiful, and you’d be enjoying yourself if the drive to find your missing partner wasn’t so high. You had a picture of him on your phone, and you went around, asking everyone you passed by if they had seen him. At first, you were asking in English—you didn’t know Italian. But eventually, you learned the phrases you needed.

“L'hai visto?” you asked desperately.

You understood “no,” and saw the look of sadness on their faces.

“Grazie,” you replied, moving on.

You must’ve asked hundreds of people. The sun was high in the sky, and you felt a hopelessness in your fruitless search. Why did you ever think you’d find him? There was a good chance he wasn’t even in Genoa anymore; he could’ve landed and moved somewhere more isolated. You had nothing to go on, and your voice and face took on a pleading, desperate tone. You must’ve looked like an unhinged person, asking the same question over and over again while pointing frantically to your phone screen.

Another thought came to you in the form of a growling stomach. You hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had so much as a sip of water since you got off the plane. Which then led you to think about what you were going to do once the sun went down. You didn’t have a whole lot of money on you, and you didn’t know how much anything cost.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you muttered to yourself in frustrated hopelessness. You sat down hard on a bench, cursing yourself for not thinking this through better.

A woman came over to you; she looked somewhat familiar. You must’ve talked to her before. But she started speaking rapid Italian to you. You gave her a puzzled look, brow furrowed. You tried to express that you didn’t speak Italian, and she stopped, her face contorted as she thought.

“Man,” she said in slow, pronounced English. She pointed to her left. “Man...you want?”

You followed her finger and froze when you saw the tall, lanky frame of Sonny through a shop window. You jumped to your feet, shouting a “thank you!” to her as you ran on tired legs to the shop. Sonny was just paying for groceries, and was heading out of the shop when you reached him.

His eyes widened as he saw you, guilt flooding his eyes. “...[y/n]?” he asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” you replied, grinning. “I thought I’d never find you.”

He gave you a hard look. “I wish you didn’t,” he muttered before turning to leave.

You stared in disbelief as he walked down the street, bag in his arms. Snapping yourself out of it, you hurried after him. “Carisi, what are you doing here in Italy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, not breaking in his stride. You struggled to keep up with his long legs, your body and mind exhausted. “I’m trying to start over, away from my past.”

You pushed yourself to get in front of him, cutting him off. “You can’t just—just run away.... Don’t I...don’t we mean anything to you? The squad, your family—”

“Of course you do,” he replied, eyes softening for a moment. “That’s why I left.”

You looked at him, eyes pleading. “Look, Dom, I know what happened was...traumatic. But—”

“I’m not talking about that. Not now, not ever.” And then he was walking again, easily stepping around you. “Please, just go home,” he called over his shoulder to you.

You watched him retreat for a moment before heading after him again. “Dominick, you need to talk about it, if not to me, than to someone else. But you can’t bury it down, move on like nothing ever happened.”

Sonny whipped around to glare at you, face hard. “Like nothing ever happened? You think that’s what I’m doing?” He shook his head, huffing. “I’ll never stop thinking about it! This will haunt me to my grave! And when I’m burning in Hell, I’ll know why.”

It broke your heart to see him like this. “Please, listen to me. You need to work through this. It took me months to come to terms with my actions, and I know you can do it, too.”

“I’m too disgusted with myself,” he replied, shaking his head. “I hate myself too much for what I did to you.”

He tried to turn away again, but you grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. He flinched at the contact, pulling away from your touch, and you let your hand fall. “I hated me, too. Still do sometimes. But it wasn’t our fault; we were drugged. There was nothing we could do—”

“I could’ve fought it. I could’ve controlled myself.”

“And what, I couldn’t?” you shot back. Sonny’s eyes widened at your outburst. “If you hate yourself so much, then you must hate me, too. I did the same thing you did.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning yours. “I could never hate you.”

“Then why are you so hellbent on hating yourself, but not me?”

“Because I...” he trailed off, thinking through his words. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but instead he whispered, “I don’t know.”

You moved closer to him. “Then please, let me help you.” You didn’t make the mistake of touching him again, instead just gazing deeply into his eyes.

Sonny sighed heavily, regripping the bag in his arms. “Yeah, okay. But...let me sleep on it, first?” He saw the skeptical look you gave him, and he quickly added, “I promise I won��t run away again. I just...I need time to process things. Where are you staying? I can swing by in the morning.”

“Uhh...” you said, looking at the ground.

“...please tell me you have a place to stay.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to try and find a place, soon?” you tried.

You could see the inner struggle he had as he fought himself. “I could...you could stay with me, if you want.... That is, if you feel safe with me...if you can trust me.”

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” you said softly.

His eyes widened for a moment. “Yeah...okay. Follow me.”

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

Sonny lived in a small apartment. Though it was a little smaller than his place in Manhattan, it was absolutely stunning, the view from his window gorgeous. It was simply furnished, yet it still somehow felt like...Sonny. He put his grocery bag down on the little counter that acted like an island in a kitchen. In reality, it was just a piece that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he put his things away.

You stomach grumbled loudly in response. “Uh, no,” you muttered, embarrassed.

Sonny gave you a look. “So, let me get this straight. I can tell by your no luggage or place to stay that you just flew to Genoa with absolutely no backup plan? What if you didn’t find me? What if I went to Vernazza or something?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t in the best state of mind, okay? I was worried about you; no one had heard from you, not even your parents. And your phone just went to voicemail.”

He sighed. “I left my phone in New York; I didn’t want it. Maybe I also wasn’t in the best state of mind when I left.”

You dug your phone out of your pocket; you only had 10% left on it. You unlocked it, then shoved it towards him. “You need to call your parents. Your mom is heartbroken, and asked me to tell you that she loves you. But I think it would be better coming from her directly to you.”

Tears filled his eyes as he took your phone from you. “If I do, then it’ll kill your phone battery. There’s no way the call would be less than five hours long.”

“Call them,” you urged. You could buy a phone charger in the morning. Sonny sighed, dialing the number. “I’ll give you some privacy,” you whispered, heading outside. You heard a soft, “hey ma; it’s me,” before you closed the front door behind you.

You were so relieved to have found Sonny. Sure, he was still broken and hurt, but you knew you could help him find himself, pull himself back from the darkness in his mind. You just didn’t know how long it would take, how long you’d be in Italy for. You didn’t want to rush him, couldn’t rush him if you tried. And you knew a lot of this would be an internal battle, something you knew intimately well based on your own experience. In the end, he’d have to find the strength to forgive himself on his own before he could move on. You sighed, looking up into the dark clouds above you, the muggy heat making your skin sticky.

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

Sonny came and got you about an hour later. His eyes were rimmed red, but it seemed as though a weight had lifted off him as he handed back your now dead phone.

“Sorry; I can buy you a charger in the morning,” he muttered, leading you back inside.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

You both ate dinner in silence; Sonny was pensive, thinking, while you were starving and shoveling the delicious food into your mouth. Once you finished—your huge bites compared to his little nibbles had you finishing in record time—you took your dishes to the kitchen and started cleaning them.

“I can do that—” Sonny started before you cut him off.

“It’s fine; you cook, I clean.” It was your rule back in Manhattan, and Sonny smiled softly at the memories of you both in his kitchen.

“Look, Sonny, I know you said you don’t want to talk—and that’s fine! But, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here, willing to listen,” you said. You scrubbed at your plate with the sponge, forcing yourself to not turn and look at him.

He sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. You resolutely stayed facing the sink, washing a now clean dish, waiting for a response that may not come.

“I...I know it was R. I know it was. But I just...I can’t stop the self-loathing I feel,” he said so quietly, you barely heard him over the water in the sink.

Slowly, you turned the water off, then turned to face him. “I know. It took me months to not hate myself. To not blame myself.”

Sonny took a deep breath, then rubbed his eyes. “I never asked; how are you?”

You knew he didn’t mean in general. “I was very sore and exhausted the first week. I was stuck in a downward spiral. But the thing about hitting rock bottom is that you can only go up.” You sighed. “I’m doing better. I doubt I’ll ever be 100% me again. But I’m working every day to get closer.”

He nodded, thinking. “See, I feel like I hit rock bottom, then grabbed a shovel. I’m still fighting to get back to rock bottom.”

“Well, just know that I do not blame you in any way. All the anger and hatred I felt was directed at myself,” you huffed out an emotionless chuckle. “In fact, you hardly came up in my therapy sessions at all. Just that I hated myself for doing that to you.”

Sonny stood then, bringing his own dishes into the kitchen. “I never blamed you, either; still don’t. I—I guess because I’m bigger and because I was...on top, I blame myself instead. I didn’t even consider the fact that you got drugged, too....”

“That’s the thing; I know you. And I know myself. Neither of us...that wouldn’t have happened without outside forces making us do it. Like I said, I trust you with my life, Sonny. And while I understand why you turned your badge in, I really would like my partner back one day,” you said, hope tinging your voice.

He reached past you to put his plate in the sink, and you gazed up at him. This was the closest you’ve been since that night in the club, his face inches from yours, bright blue eyes boring into your own. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened. You could pretend that you were in Sonny’s Manhattan apartment, having just finished dinner he made, Love Island playing on his TV. But then reality set in, and Sonny backed away from you, a look of guilt in his eyes.

“M—maybe one day. But I’m not sure I want to go back to that line of work yet,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

You nodded. “I understand—” you were cut off by a loud clap of thunder, sounding directly above you. You dropped the plate you were rinsing off into the sink, the clatter loud in the shocked silence.

Sonny looked from the ceiling to you, saw your petrified look. He knew you hated storms, would often get a call at 1am from you, asking to come over when a thunderstorm rolled in. When he saw you on the streets of Genoa, he didn’t connect that Italy had some of the most intense thunderstorms in the world.

“Hey, it’s okay; I’m here,” he murmured out of instinct; the words he would say back home to you.

You were trembling, tears in your eyes. “S-Sonny, I—”

Another loud rumbling resounded through the apartment, and he saw you shrink in on yourself, slowly dropping to the floor, curling around your legs. You tucked your face against your knees, shaking with quiet sobs. He came over to you, kneeling in front of you. Normally, he’d wrap you tightly in his arms, whispering to you that you were safe. But now, he was afraid to touch you.

“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” he remembered you saying, with no hesitation. Swallowing the thoughts propelled by self-loathing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t assault you, wouldn’t do anything without your consent, so why the hell was he hesitating when you needed him?

“Come on; let’s get you into bed, okay?” Sonny whispered to you. You nodded without looking up. Gently, he unfolded your limbs, helping you to your feet. He had been planning to sleep on the couch, give you his bed. Now, though, he was leading you to his bedroom quickly, trying to make it before more thunder sounded.

He got you into his bed just as another clap of thunder shook the walls. You pulled the covers over your head, tucking down as hard as possible into the bed. Sonny climbed into bed next to you, laying on top of the covers. Gently, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back against him. He could feel you trembling, the whole bed shaking. What else could he do besides what he normally did?

“It’s okay; you’re safe. I got you,” he whispered, rubbing your arm over the blanket. You rolled over until you were facing him, and curled in against his chest. Sonny stiffened for only a moment before relaxing in the familiar position.

“I hate storms,” you choked out, tucking your face into his shirt.

He rubbed your back in comfort. “I know you do. It’ll be gone soon enough.”

But unlike Manhattan, where that may be true, thunderstorms in Genoa lasted hours. Simply because you didn’t sleep the night before, you were able to drift off in Sonny’s embrace. You’d jerk awake every time a clap of thunder was heard, though, shaking and sobbing softly as he murmured sweet words to you before succumbing to sleep again.

Sonny, however, didn’t sleep a wink. He was too lost in thought, holding you to him. You trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed, his arms around you, even after everything that happened. You didn’t blame him, felt no hatred towards him. And while most of his problem stemmed from his own self-hatred, he was always afraid that you felt the same way about him. And he couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t stand it. Not when he—

He almost said it out on the street earlier, when you asked him if he hated you. He almost told you that he loved you, had come so close. In fact, he was planning on asking you out after work that day. The day that changed his life forever, and not in the way he had been hoping. If only Liv hadn’t called you both into her office that day, then maybe there would still be a chance....

But he could never tell you, not now. How would you even begin a relationship after this? He was too afraid to even touch you, for Christ’s sake. Though, that was before the thunderstorm started. Now, you were curled against his chest, your trembling stopped for the moment, breathing deep as you slept. His arms were around you, and god he loved it, loved the feeling of you sleeping in his arms, whether from a storm or not. This wasn’t the first time he held you throughout the night, and he loved it every time, regardless of circumstances. But how could anything evolve from this? How could he kiss you? How could you be...intimate together without the memory of the club popping up in either of your minds?

A small part of him whispered that if he could get over his fear of touching you—evident by the cuddling—then he could overcome his other fears, too. But would you want that? Did he?.... Yes, yes he wanted that very much. He wanted to be able to love you without fear and/or guilt in his heart. Before the club, he had thought that his biggest obstacle would be 1PP. Oh how ignorant he had been.

He resolved that he wouldn’t tell you, not now, maybe not ever. He couldn’t, not when this darkness was still inside his head, not when his hatred for himself was so high—

Thunder rolled out, and you jumped, instantly waking. The trembling started again, and you grabbed Sonny’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.

“I got you. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered to you.

But for the first time ever, you responded. “You make me feel safe, Dom,” you muttered back.

At first, he was filled with such a profound warmth and happiness, feeling protective and strong. But then a flash of your face, beet red, your body moving erratically underneath his while loud club music played, and he sunk in on himself. He felt like such an asshole, such a coward, holding you like this. He should’ve left you on the streets in Genoa, closed himself off. Or at least offer to put you up in a hotel or a hostile, not fucking take you home with him. He hated that side of him that couldn’t let you go, almost as much as the hatred of that night in the club.

“What’s wrong?” you asked suddenly. You were still shaking in his grasp, but you noticed he was deep in thought. He had stopped talking, and was humming slightly. Sonny only hummed when he was thinking hard. He didn’t respond right away, unsure of what he’d even say. So, you pressed on, “need me to comfort you?”

Sonny’s expression softened. Here you were, scared out of your mind, but still offering him help. This is one of the main reasons he loved you. “No, I’m fine. Just sleep, okay?” he murmured.

Without thinking about it, he brushed his lips against your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss. You smiled at the gesture, tucking your head against his chest again, quickly finding sleep once more.

But Sonny was silently cursing himself. Why the hell did you kiss her?! he thought in anguish. In truth, he didn’t think, just reacted. He often kissed your forehead in comfort, trying to coax you to sleep. It seemed as if when he turned his brain off, he could rely on instinct, doing things he normally did. But that nagging side of his brain never left him alone for long. Things he used to do that brought him joy, like holding you or kissing your soft skin, now filled him with regret. How was he supposed to move on and leave you behind in New York when he did shit like this?

He sighed, glancing at his clock and seeing that it was only a little past 1am. This was going to be a long night. And he still wasn’t sure what to say to you in the morning.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

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nerdified · 3 years

Text

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I’m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

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myread4change · 3 years

Text

Book77 Completed😊: Your Money or Your Life – Vicki Robin & Joe Dominguez

You can never have enough unless you know what is enough for you? Your money or your life encourages to work on this most important question to lead fulfilled life.

Does millions guarantee freedom or put it other way, do you really need million dollars to be free. This is the question one need to ask rather than believing or buying the theory, RICH=FREE.

Whether you have target to be financially free in couple of years or want to save enough money, while keep working, this book will empower you with enough tools to pave the way.

Few 🔑 Points –

• Financial Independence- It encompasses a lot more than having a secure passive income. It is also freedom from crippling financial beliefs, crippling debt, and a crippling inability to manage modern conveniences.

• Convert your income into time, life energy you spend earning. So, every time you buy something, it will remind you how many minutes, hours of your life will be spent working for that thing. This will create a massive shift in defining your necessities and satisfy cravings.

• One sure way to save money – Stop trying to impress other people. It’s an endless and fruitless waste of time and money, plus others are likely so busy trying to impress you that they will, at best, not notice your efforts. At worst, they will resent you for one-upping them.

• Retirement doesn’t mean you stop working. It’s about having a choice. You work because you want to, not because you must, and that is powerful.

Few 📌 Quotes –

1. Your success at being frugal is measured not by your penny-pinching but by your degree of enjoyment of the material world.

2. Choice is the true heart of Financial Independence. It’s not about the money. It’s about the choice of where you direct your most precious resources: your time, your attention, and your life.

3. Whether we realize it or not, our daily interactions involve the unconscious sizing up of how each of us “makes a living.”

4. Once we’re above the survival level, the difference between prosperity and poverty lies simply in our degree of gratitude.

For Book Summary Visit my Blog - https://myreadforchange.com/your-money-or-your-life-book-summary-i-vicki-robin/

#myread4change #read2lead #read4life #books #change #financialindependence #financialfreedom

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floralamongtheclouds · 4 years

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Hello! Can I request a Gauche x girlfriend reader where instead of Gauche being turned(?) into an elf, the reader is turned(?) into an elf and she and him fight?

Hello hello! Of course! Thanks so much for the request :) you didn’t specify what kind of magic reader uses, so I took some liberty with that (also I made reader’s and Marie’s elves related, I hope that works for you), if you’d like to see different specifics, just lmk and I can rewrite it to what you want! It’s been a while since I’ve written fighting scenes, so I hope you enjoy.

Gauche vs. elf!girlfriend!Reader

Warning: light swearing/angsty(?)

When you had suddenly been engulfed by a strange white light and gained red facial markings before suddenly fleeing away from the base, Gauche thought that was the craziest thing that happened that day (which was a feat since the Eye of the Midnight Sun had attacked the base that day, then he learned from Asta that you had been possessed by an Elf and so had many others, and he thought that was the craziest thing that had happened that day, and then he ended up on opposite sides of a battle with you (with Marie, also possessed as an Elf, clinging tightly on to you) with half of his squadmates missing due to them fighting the captain of the Coral Peacocks, concluding that, no, that was the craziest thing to have happened that day.

“We need to get up there,” Asta yelled, pointing up to the tower where you and Marie currently stood, “We’re not going to be able to do anything like this!” As much as Gauche hated to admit it, the runt was correct. He had never seen your magic like this before. Sure, you were pretty strong for an Iron Magic user, but what you were doing now was way past the level you used to be on. Currently, you were protecting yourself and Marie with a curtain of iron, only sightly opened so you could see where your onslaught of javelins were going. It was taking everyone all they could just to evade and protect themselves from the projectiles, including those who were worn out from the previous battle. If this is what your magic was like, he didn’t want to think about how Marie’s magic had amplified.

“If Henry can fly us up there and you break down that barrier with your Sword, we might have an opening, but it’s going to be tight!” Gauche yelled back.

“It’s going to be hard to evade and get close.” Henry drawled out.

“D-don’t worry, I can cover us.” Grey squeaked.

“Then let’s do it!” Asta yelled once more, shattering the incoming javelins with his sword as Henry transformed the base around them and into a ship.

“I-I hope this works,” Grey stuttered out once they took flight, “Transformation Magic: magic convert to rubber.” She changed the wood of the base to rubber, making it so the javelins either stuck harmlessly stuck to the outside of the ship or bounced off.

“Asta, now!” Gauche commanded. Asta nodded in response, leaping from the the open door of the ship and into the iron wall, sword first. Gauche was correct in that it gave them a window to reach the top of the tower, but with how fast the ship was flying, the iron magic hadn’t completely dissolved, causing the ship to be hit from the side, ejecting himself, Grey, and Gordon on to the floor.

Gauche barely had enough time to reorient himself to hear you and Marie speak to each other.

“May I, sister?” Marie asked.

Sister?!

“Of course.” You replied.

“Humans, look at me.”

“Don’t look at them!” Gauche hoped he yelled that out in time to warn his squadmates.

“Why?!” Demanded Asta.

“Marie has Eye Magic, one glimpse and she can paralyze you in an instant!”

“But that just brings us back to dodging!”

“I know that.” Guache growled out. He didn’t want to fight you, though. He couldn’t imagine hurting even a hair on your head, never mind Marie; the two people he treasured most in the whole world and you were on opposing sides.

But he knew if he gave up, you wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

“Keep an eye on the blonde one,” he heard you say to Marie, “He seems to be able to nullify my magic somehow.”

Gauche called out your name, hoping that you’d hear him in some way. He conjured up a mirror to see that you still had your back to him.

“Please, stop this,” he tried again, “I don’t want to fight you or hurt you!”

“You must be trying to talk to the human that once inhabited this body,” you finally spoke back, but your back remained turned to him, “A fruitless endeavor. Whoever you knew before is long dead.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Asta intervened, “The elf that possessed Luck tried saying the same thing, but I can promise they’re both still-”

“Does it matter,” you laughed, cutting him off, “All of humanity will be eradicated, anyway! And I’m going to contribute to that starting with you five!” At these words, you spun around to face Gauche, who just had enough time to step back from a large spike shooting up from the ground, lightly grazing him and shattering his mirror.

“Keep, them busy,” Asta yelled, “I think I have a plan!”

“None of you better hurt them,” Gauche warned while creating a double of himself, “Or else I’ll kill you!” He then filled the room with mirrors, giving you the illusion he was going to shoot at you, causing you to redirect most of your projectiles towards those instead. In actuality, he couldn’t even bring himself to shoot his light beam close to you. He knew that it wasn’t really you, but it was still you, so he just kept you attention diverted by creating new mirrors every time you smashed one.

Gordon and Henry were still busy just trying defend themselves, but Grey was able to transform herself into Asta without you, who was busy with the mirrors, or Marie, who was busy tracking the actual Asta, noticing. Then, fake sword in hand, she charged towards you.

“You think I wouldn’t be able to sense you.” You started to mock, turning towards Grey, but you hesitated when you saw it wasn’t who you expected it to be.

And a hesitation was all they needed.

Grey swung at you with all her might. While the sword she wielded didn’t have anti-magic properties like the real Asta’s did, she still hoped it would be enough force to knock you out. While it did work out in that favor, you still had enough time to also knock Grey back, rendering her unconscious. Your attacks finally came to a stop, allowing Gordon and Henry to collapse from exhaustion.

“Sister!” Marie cried out, finally looking away from Asta to check on your slumped form.

“E-eclat.” You coughed out, slowly raising a figure to warn her about Asta who was taking this opportunity to try and sneak up on her, but Marie was faster, instantly turning back around, paralyzing him on the stop.

“D-dammit,” Asta choked out, “G-gauche, you have to do something!”

Gauche froze on the spot. He was right, he was the only one of his squadmates still standing, but that didn’t mean he could do something. That would mean hurting you and Marie, he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that.

But if he just stood by, then you would kill everyone where they stood.

And he knew neither of you would want that.

“This is for hurting the love of my life and my precious sister,” he shouted out, “Mirror Magic: large reflect ray!” He pointed the attack at the two of you, it took all of his magic, but it knocked both of you down and released Asta from Marie’s hold, finally letting him poise his sword over you.

Before he could release the elves that had taken a hold of you, a red ring formed around your bodies and you said, “You stupid humans, you really think you can stop all of this? I don’t care if I go down as long as I take you down with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Asta muttered, “But I really need my friends back.” And with that, he pressed his sword down, the red ring disappearing along with the markings on your face. You and Marie stayed lying on the floor, motionless, and for a moment fear gripped at Gouche’s heart as he thought that the elf was right and you had died, but he was put at ease once the two of you finally started stirring and sitting up slowly.

“Brother?” Marie questioned when she opened her eyes and saw him across the way. Instead of answering, he took whatever energy he had left to run towards you and gather the two of you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he kissed the top of Marie’s head, “I didn’t want to hurt either of you, but I had to.”

“No,” you croaked out, tears forming in your eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want- I didn’t mean-” He cut you off by smashing his lips on to yours. It didn’t matter what you were going to say, all that did was that you were safe now and he was going to be sure it stayed that way.

The person who did this to you was going to have hell to pay.

#black clover #gauche adlai #gauche adlai x reader #ss #my writing #angsty?

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askaceattorney · 4 years

Text

Dear askrikkaiandhyotei and Anonymous,

Absolutely! Because for you, I know only Debeste will do.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Sebastian Debeste is the sort of character who can be instantly recognized -- his proud smile, punctuation mark hairdo, Themis Legal Academy uniform, cape-like red coat, and conductor’s baton announce his presence before he has to say a word.

That doesn’t stop him from speaking, of course.

His manner of speech is another strong characteristic -- he loves to talk about himself proudly and dramatically. If it was his life goal to be an actor, he’d be well on his way, but it turns out he’s an aspiring new prosecutor, well on his way to become “The Best”...or so he thinks.

This brings us to yet another outstanding trait -- his tendency to get even basic things wrong, from case information to simple idioms.

You’ve have to love the irony in that mistake, don’t you?

His authoritative-but-naive attitude is pretty adorable at first, plus it makes it easier for Edgeworth to win arguments against him. His cockiness even opens the door for Edgeworth to continue investigating.

But it turns out he’s not in quite the same category as your run-of-the-mill Ace Attorney prosecutor (cocky, self-righteous, and demeaning). No, the main reason for his behavior is that he wants to be seen as a culpable capable prosecutor by those around him -- his mentor, Justine, his fellow prosecutors, and of course, his dear old Pops. Who wouldn’t have this as a career goal, especially as a rookie?

With that in mind, it’s not so fun to see him goof up at every other thing he tries to do.

...Okay, maybe a little.

Sure, it’s mostly his own negligence that’s to blame, but you definitely can’t blame him for a lack of enthusiasm. Even sadder than this, though, is his main reason for wanting to be a prosecutor.

Now, there’s a good question.

It’d be one thing if his father, whom he reveres as both a parent and a career role model, were to point out his clumsiness, and perhaps offer some correction, the way Edgeworth often does with Gumshoe. Instead, though, he publicly disdains him, even calling him an idiot. Thankfully, this doesn’t do much to discourage him from trying his best (in fact, it gives him another reason to prove himself as a capable prosecutor), and he’s lucky enough to have someone like Justine to provide the encouragement his father denies him.

The real tragedy, however, occurs when he learns (as we do) the ugly truth behind his role model.

As often happens in the Ace Attorney series (and in real life), arriving at the truth isn’t always pleasant, as poor Sebastian learns during Edgeworth’s P.I.C. hearing. Not surprisingly, the thought of his father and role model being a criminal turns his world upside down.

And as if hearing the truth about his father wasn’t bad enough, he also learns a few unpleasant things about himself.

One by one, Sebastian’s accolades become entirely worthless, and whatever efforts he made to earn them are instantly rendered meaningless. Even if he were twice as old as he is, I wouldn’t blame him for what he does next.

Like a kid who just got bullied, he runs off crying. At least it can’t get any worse than that, right?

Obviously, it can.

Soon after that ugly scene at the P.I.C. meeting, he finds himself caught up in another case, and in need of rescuing. It’s comforting to know he isn’t the only Debeste who goofs up, but now it looks like he’s hit rock bottom, both in his profession and in his self-confidence.

This brings me to the part that, as I mentioned once before, is the one moment in the entire Ace Attorney series that made me cry. I’ve never been so unfortunate as to be kidnapped or belittled by a parent, but like Sebastian, I know the sting of realizing you don’t know near as much about your field of study as you thought you did. In fact, I honestly wondered what he could do at this point, or what I would do in his position.

Thankfully, as fate would have it, he has a wise and caring prosecutor there to pull him out from the ditch he’s fallen into.

Unlike one of Edgeworth’s usual Logic Chess sessions, where his only goal is to lure the truth out of someone, he also uses this one to help out an emotionally traumatized Sebastian. In fact, it could easily be compared to one of Athena’s therapy sessions.

It’s sad enough to see a prosecutor cry, but now his tears are even more bitter (and frequent). Luckily, Edgeworth’s strategy of waiting patiently for his opponent, or in this case his temporary pupil, gradually helps Sebastian come out of his shell and answer the questions he’s been left to figure out, the biggest one being...

While Edgeworth can’t give him experience, he does offer him some very helpful wisdom:

As the conversation goes on, Edgeworth helps him build up the courage to face the truth about his father, to begin living his own life, and to face the greatest trial of his career, so to speak. Most importantly, though, he gives him a lesson his father never bothered to teach him:

And in one of the most beautiful checkmates there ever was, Edgeworth sets Sebastian up, not only to be a capable prosecutor, but to be a better one than his father. Not to mention, he even helps him fix some of his malapropisms! Have you ever considered being a career counselor on the side, Edgeworth?

So, where does Sebastian go from there? He mostly disappears from the scene until Edgeworth and company’s final confrontation with Blaise and Patricia, where he somehow (i.e. through the magic of Ace Attorney timing) shows up with crucial evidence in the nick of time, similarly to what Franziska once did in one of Phoenix’s trials. As soon as he walks in, he’s faced with his biggest fear -- his former role model.

Not to mention an angry prosecutor who took his place after he abandoned his post.

The Sebastian we’ve saw before would probably walk away with his tail between his legs, but the one we’re seeing now?

In the next moment, Sebastian demonstrates in his face, his words, and an aura of courage, just who he is now -- not the “sniveling child” his father expects him to be, but a man who’s ready to accept his responsibilities as a capable prosecutor. Even Edgeworth didn’t see his transformation coming.

Discovering himself wasn’t the only thing Sebastian was doing, though. While Edgeworth and the gang were busy with their own investigations, he was hastily searching the garbage dump for the evidence his father threw away. His efforts to find it were fruitless, but he didn’t come up completely empty-handed.

It seems like a dead end at first, but with Edgeworth’s help, he converts a piece of garbage into the key to finally exposing Patricia and his father for the “stinking” criminals they are. Naturally, facing and prosecuting his own father takes a little encouragement from Edgeworth...

...but he works up the courage not only to face the truth, but to say goodbye to the one person he’s depended on, in a bold yet bittersweet fashion.

Something like that really does require The Best kind of person.

So, when it comes to character development, something Ace Attorney does beautifully every time, Sebastian Debeste serves as a shining example of a transformation from a bold, naive child riding his father’s coattails to a man who, unlike Blaise, who believes being The Best means being heartless, pursues justice over personal gain. By the end of his story, he’s still somewhat unsure of himself, but at least his ambitions are a bit more reasonable this time around.

And with people like Edgeworth, Justine, and Uncle Ray around to show him the way, he's more prepared than ever to achieving that dream.

And of course we can’t leave out his unique hairdo. The question mark shape could be seen as a symbol of confusion or lack of knowledge, while the transition to an exclamation point when he learns something new symbolizes a moment of clarity. Alternatively, the question mark could be seen as his curiosity for learning new things, while the exclamation point symbolizes the learning process. In either case, Sebastian’s story illustrates an important life lesson for anyone -- namely, that you don’t have to be The Best in order to keep learning.

-The Co-Mod

#askrikkaiandhyotei #Anonymous #Sebastian Debeste #Mod Post #Co Mod #Character Essay

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occasionallyish--archive · 4 years

Text

Escapade

H.Shinsou x S.Todoroki, H.Shinsou x I.Midoriya, S.Todoroki x I.Midoriya, I.Midoriya x O.Uraraka, and various hints to other ships

Warnings: Slow burn(?), unrequited love, brief breaking of the fourth wall lmao

Have been writing since 03/07/2019

Word count 2810

Reblogs > Likes, pleasepleaseplease–

Lengthiness under the cut!

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Outside ; Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi shuddered, hands instinctively reaching to cup over his mouth in some attempt to warm them through his thick gloves. He gave warm, drawn out breaths that helped to spare his lips from the almost burning cold, however otherwise, the gesture proved fruitless– Even more than the occasional, leafless trees that he passed. And so, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave a somewhat frustrated sigh that easily converted into Winter fog.

He hated almost everything about the season– Shivering in the snow, persistent carolers, and the pressure to buy gifts for people that he barely knew. At least he had the excuse to take a break from school and hide inside during the whole of said break.

Regardless, however, the purple-haired male was there: Walking through the snow, toward the mall– clad in two-and-a-half layers of clothing–, with the intent to buy a Christmas present for a bush.

Said bush's name was Izuku Midoriya, one of the famed former students of class 1-A who not only survived multiple villain attacks, but also managed to help get Hitoshi into the hero course. Maybe it wasn't the achievement that he was most recognized for, but it was the one that truly spoke of his sincerity and kindness, in Hitoshi's heart.

...So what if he had a crush? Izuku already obviously had his own on a certain brunette from 2-B, so he knew he didn't have any chance– Having fallen for a straight boy.

As he continued to walk, a bitter taste was left in Shinsou's mouth.

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Shouto Todoroki

A gentle sigh flitted from between the heterochromatic boy's lips as he laid on the sofa in the commons room, scrolling through a website that he'd found on his phone. As if to loosen the tense feeling that only Shouto seemed to experience, he hummed to himself, searching through lists upon lists of gifts upon gifts.

And still, nothing.

He wanted to find the perfect gift– Something that conveyed his feelings to Izuku without needing to use words; Something unlike anything else that he had ever even seen; Something special and completely unique, made only for him. That was what Shouto wanted to give his classmate; That was what Shouto wanted to give to his favorite person;

That was what Shouto wanted to give to the boy that he loved. While he was aware that his feelings weren't returned, and while he was aware that they never would be, he was going to tell him, come Christmas. And, with their relationship becoming deafeningly awkward, he was going to ruin the holiday for everybody in class 2-A. And he'd run back to his mother, and cry, and hide from the rest of the world until somebody other than Enji would inherit the agency– And then he'd become a hero through that and never have to see the pro hero Deku, again. He could already see it happening.

The boy with bicolored hair blinked before shaking his head, turning to pick his dead phone back into his hands.

As he stood to charge the pocket-sized computer, a solemn, cold feeling spread throughout Todoroki's veins.

25/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Commons room ; Neito Monoma

Neito was somehow of the first up, slipping down the stairs to see a pajama-clad Tooru, Mina, and Denki. The electric blonde was sitting at the table, 'recharging' himself with some oatmeal topped with whipped cream and banana slices– A combination that the former 1-B student saw disgust in. Tooru and Mina, however, were sitting near their bad excuse of a Christmas tree– of course, bless Ibara for growing it for them, but she admitedly could've done much better–, snooping around to see who got the most presents and guessing what said presents were. And Monoma, of course, was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

"Ashido, Hagakure! Don't be so childish as to peek through the presents! While it is to be expected of you 1-A brats, those are saved for later when we're all up together!"

"Omigosh, Monoma, you're starting to sound like Iida–" Ashido's attention was immediately captured by the boy, albeit not for the reason that he'd been looking for. Monoma's frown grew.

"That isn't the point!–"

"Eh?... 'S too early for this..." An all-too-familiar voice complained tiredly, an open yawn sounding from the same direction. "...Why not be Christmasy 'n cheery 'n stuff, instead?" Hitoshi sounded half asleep, as he always was before his usual morning coffee– Bitter and black, as he often described his soul.

A steel-haired boy– having previously gone unnoticed– then gave his hum, sending a sunshine smile from the kitchen to his classmate, "Coffee's on the pot if you need some, Shin!" Tetsutetsu called, being one of the few 2-A students who could easily bear the early hours.

A thin, lazy smile found its way onto Hitoshi's face. "Perfect timing. Thanks."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Kitchen ; Momo Yaoyorozu

The bushy-haired boy hobbled downstairs with a yawn, fuzzy sock slipping at the bottom– But, of course, a tall ravenette was there to catch him.

"Good morning, Midoriya." The young woman called softly as she gripped his shoulders, easing him into more of an upright position. She chose not to comment on it, as based on the shorter's expression, the near incident was enough of a wake-up call. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um–" Izuku began as they headed toward the kitchen, still recovering from the split-second panic. "Y-yeah. I was really excited, last night, so I think I went to bed, too late, though..." His voice trailed off into more of a tired mumble, which was always adorable– Sometimes, Momo was convinced that she was surrounded by a litter of cute, rambunctious puppies and not the future's greatest heroes.

"Yes. I think that you're the last one up, actually." She commented matter-of-factly, reaching into a cupboard to retrieve a pouch of caffeinated tea. "Would you like some tea to help wake you up?" She asked before her friend had the chance to feel guilty.

Sometimes, Yaoyorozu very easily read her peers. More than just Izuku knew this, as he nodded with his "Mmhm, thank you."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Dorms ; Fumikage Tokoyami

Quite the diverse group was walking through the snow, making the short trek from class 2-B's dorm building to class 2-A's– Said group consisting of an explosive boy, a bubbly brunette, a horned blonde, and a bird-headed boy. Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka were exchanging their comments, as the frenemies often did, while Fumikage Tokoyami and Pony Tsunotori kept to themselves.

That was fine, however, as the trip was short– It wasn't long before a sharp redhead was opening the door, laughing at something that his twin-like friend had said. "Come on in, guys!" Eijirou'd said between chuckles.

Of course, Fumikage gratefully accepted the invite to come in, happy to shed his thick scarf and jacket– Even if he enjoyed the cold, he could only take it to an extent. The crow-like boy made a point to leave his garments on the coat rack, for later, before perching onto one of the arms of a couch.

He only observed, for a time– How Ochako easily found her way toward Momo and Izuku, and how two other boys also seemed to be carefuly regarding the group. How Mina and Denki seemed to momentarily deflate when they'd been told their tape friend was celebrating off-campus. How festive Yuuga looked, with his Rudolph-inspired makeup and fake antlers. How Tooru and Nirengeki seemed to really enjoy decorating Ibara's head.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Ochako Uraraka

Eventually, conversations around the sofas seemed to float toward Ochako's distaste with being separated from her previous classmates. "Yeah, I've gotten to know lots of great people in 2-B, but kinda miss sharing class with my friends from last year, y'know?" She'd pointed out, which had lit flares of passion in those such as Katsuki and Eijirou.

"I miss my friends, too." Izuku chimed in, at some point, which seemed to easily halt Ochako and Katsuki's oncoming argument. "But, I think it's just natural that we.. Mm, I don't know how to put it. Expand? But, also, well..." The green-haired boy paused, trying not to spiral into a moment of muttering. "And, we can all still see eachother, after classes." He pointed out with a smile, and that was that.

"Such is the way of life." Fumikage added as somewhat of a word of advice.

Ochako couldn't help but notice how Pony folded her hands in her lap, leaning back into the couch as her blank stare and almost wistful smile faced nobody in particular. "I have no idea what you just said." She commented, which did cause some giggles and snickers to sound around their sort of cirlce– Ochako's sweetly humored one, included.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Eijirou Kirishima

Everybody who said they'd attend the gathering seemed to be there, and most importantly, everybody seemed to have relaxed. The faux-redhead gave a shark-toothed grin as he carefully slid a headband onto a blonde's head– Of course, as soon as said blonde felt it, his hand lifted for a deathgrip around Eijirou's wrist.

He was glad that his quirk easily resisted his friend.

"Can you guess which reindeer you are?" He gave suppressed giggles as Katsuki's grip lightened, hand soon dropping into his lap. It was nice that the explosive boy's temper seemed to have lengthened– Even if only somewhat, at least something had definitely changed between his first argument with Tenya, and now.

Katsuki shifted slightly, his expression more of a neutral sort of grumpy. "Rudolph?" He guessed the obvious one, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope! I'm pretty sure Aoyama's got that covered, haha."

"...None of the other names are important." The blonde mumbled lowly, head leaned back to ensure only the boy behind him heard that. It was his way of admitting that he had no clue what the other reindeer's names were.

"Blitzen–" Kirishima couldn't help bursting into laughter, and admittedly, a small smile did tug at Katsuki's lips. "Because– Y'know–" He tried to speak between laughs, as he imitated the sound of an explosion.

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The kitchen ; Rikido Satou

"Hey– Where are Midoriya and Todoroki?" Rikido asked, just about finished with handing out his festive sugar cookies– Only a little candycane and bushel of holly were left. He set his tray onto the counter as he glanced around the kitchen, no Izuku nor Shouto in sight.

"I saw them head for the elevators," Ochako chimed in, finding her seat atop the corner of the table. "Maybe Deku's giving Todoroki another present? Or– Y'know, the other way around?"

It made sense– Not long after the bushy-haired shounen protagonist had woken up, the group took their turns around the tree to hand out gifts. While they both received their abundance of presents, it'd seemed Shouto was still somewhat anticipatory, an emotion unlike his usually stoic self. Though the brunette gave a shrug, deciding to dismiss that detail, for the time being.

"Oh, well– Todoroki can reheat them, when he gets back, if they're cold by then."

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The hall ; Mina Ashido

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she swore to herself– She'd only been headed to the bathroom, when she'd overheard Izuku mentioning something about how much he loved something. And Mina, being the occasionally less-than-polite person that she was, couldn't help but to stick around, pressing her back to the wall and listening to two boys, around the corner.

"I'm glad– I wanted to make sure that my gift for you was special." She could tell that that was the deeper voice of Shouto, albeit uncharacteristically warm. And maybe Mina was somewhat upset that she didn't have the chance to know whatever the supposed special gift was, but she wasn't going to risk compromising her position in what sounded like a private moment.

"Well, thank you, Todoroki. I... I really appreciate you, y'know."

"And I–" Shouto cut himself off, though, and the pink girl physically recoiled as she realized that now was the moment that he'd finally be attempting a confession. She may not have been the most academically exemplary girl, but she'd been damned if she hadn't noticed every fleeting touch, every shy glance, every missed opportunity that her peppermint peer had suffered through.

She decided to walk away, though, keeping quiet as not to alert the boys. Part of her felt guilty, feeling as if she'd tainted the secrecy of the special interaction.

But as she stepped away, she did catch a quieter, forlorn phrase. "...You're my best friend, Izuku."

30/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Dorm room ; Kyouka Jirou

"The original is a lot less shitty." A certain Katsuki Bakugou commented gruffly, as the plumette experimented with her playlist. At current, she was playing some song called 'Hey There Delilah,' albeit sung in the Japanese that she knew, as opposed to its originally English version.

Kyouka raised a brow, ony briefly letting her attention flit toward the other. "Sure, but none of us can really understand the lyrics." She spoke nonchalantly, pushing herself up to fiddle with one of the speakers that Momo had previously helped her set up.

Katsuki gave his little "Tch," as he turned away, mentioning something about how he had no problem understanding English. And knowing the overachiever, that was likely true, she figured as he left the conversation.

This year, part of class 2-A– and even some 2-B students– had decided that they would be staying at the dorms for the New Year, watching whatever festivities and celebrating behind the safety of their tv. As such, Kyouka, Momo, and an unexpected Katsuki had banded together in lieu of decking out the Heights Alliance, for the upcoming holiday.

They mostly spent time cleaning and setting up a dorm sound system, but if all went well, every second of effort was going to be worth it.

31/12/xxx ; Shortly before midnight ; The commons room ; Izuku Midoriya

His peers had really done well with decorating, Izuku acknowledged for the umpteenth time as he chose his spot beside Ochako. Admittedly, he's been set on confessing for a while now, but never quite found the courage to voice his feelings.

But that was okay, as he gently tapped the brunette on the shoulder– Her cheeks grew rosier than usual when she noticed his outstretched hand, taking it after only a second of overthinking.

Maybe he didn't need words, after all, because he already had a passion in his heart and what seemed to be reciprocated feelings. Their fingers intertwined as the television flashed, counting down to a moment that both anticipated dearly. And Izuku couldn't stifle his shy grin, watching tentatively as Ochako's attention flitted between his face and the brightly-colored screen.

Neither had to say anything. Not now. Not until the rest of the small group cheered "Zero!", and not until they shared a wonderfully perfect kiss.

01/01/xxxx ; Shortly after midnight ; The roof ; Hitoshi Shinsou & Shouto Todoroki

After that, Hitoshi found himself fleeing the scene. Of course, he knew that it was inevitable, but that didn't stop him from hurting as much as he did. He rode the elevator and then climbed the stairs, stopping only once he stood atop the roof.

Shouto couldn't help but trail the plumette up to the top of the building, masking his similar need to escape with curiosity and concern. Considering they were heroes-in-training, it had been unusually easy to do so, to slip out of the room and follow him. Almost concerningly so, as the bicolored boy paused to eye the other's silhouette– To anticipate his next move.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew that much as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the roof's railing. Hitoshi glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge the other's presence, sending a silent invitation to join him. With the way that he strode beside him, it was apparent that the youngest Todoroki was reluctant.

But neither had to say anything, for a long time. They simply stood beside one another, gazes focused on the moon or the sky or the city below them. Or maybe even one another. Shouto found comfort in this moment, but he did eventually break away, wanting to allow the plumette to mourn in peace.

But as the other turned, Shinsou reached and gently gripped his forearm. "Hey," his voice was smooth and gentle enough to coax Shouto back, to make him want to return to that moment. And he did, standing closer to his peer, now.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #rarepair #kiribaku #izuocha #shintodo #christmas #new year #ish original #ish writes #ish bnha #ish top

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

Text

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS CROSSOVER: GODS AWAKEN (Pt. VI)

“Bring in the accused,” a voice called out.

Within the Emperor’s castle was the beating heart of the Titan. The ruler of the Boiling Isles, Emperor Belos, sat on his throne with his hand planted between the palms of his hands. His breathing was in few, quick successions; he forced the air out of his longs in a sharp exhale.

Three men were taken into the throne room in chains. Their feet shuffled under the weight of the shackles. On their fingers were multiple tiny locks to prevent them from accessing the magic in their bile sacs. They each wore a black cloak that concealed most of their bodies aside from their hands and legs. Imperial guards from the Conformatorium tossed the men down before the throne of Belos.

“My lord,” one of the guards spoke up, “we have captured the traitors as you had advised us.”

Emperor Belos held his hand up in response, but he did not turn his attention towards the guard just yet. “Please, give me a minute to compose myself.”

As if on cue, a servant ran into the room carrying a small pillow. On it was a palisman fashioned in the shape of a ram. With his gloved finger, he stabbed a slit in the palisman’s side much like how a nut is opened with a nutcracker. Green liquid seeped from the palisman onto Belos’ fingers. Without much thought, Belos lifted the broken palisman in front of his face and allowed the green substance to sprinkle down into his eyes like rain. His eyes glowed momentarily before returning back to the bluish pupils hidden behind the black sockets of his mask.

“Ah, that’s better.”

Disgust manifested on the prisoners’ faces with one on the urge of retching from seeing the emperor consume the substance. Their cheeks were filling up and turning a sickly green. After Belos finished with the hollow shell of the palisman, he placed it back on the pillow and tilted his head signaling the servant to leave him and the guards alone with the prisoners.

“To what am I giving the displeasure to?” Belos asked.

“My liege, these men have been caught trying to instigate rebellion against the government in the western and northern regions of the Boiling Isles,” the head imperial guard announced.

Ah, yes; rebellion. There was hardly any mumbling of revolt against the system not in the fifty years Belos was in power. Belos could remember that day just well: his plan of having the Owl Lady petrified in a public display to dissuade any other inclinations of disavowing the system was thwarted because of that human girl. Worse, two kids led the crowd to fight for her freedom. At the least, he still did have some dominion over the children of the Isles as he claimed that the Titan informed him that the Owl Lady would forever suffer from her curse.

Belos grabbed ahold of his staff and pushed himself up. “Rebelling? Pray tell; why would you commit such high treason?”

The head of the prisoners, a one-eyed demon spoke up. “We have had enough of your tyranny.”

Belos lifted his staff and tapped the ringleader’s shoulder. “Such a shame to see that your mind had been poisoned by nonsensical ravings of conspirators.”

The man pushed the staff aside. “You claim that you are doing this for the people’s interests, but you are deliberately denying witches and demons their individuality and forcing them to condone to your design!”

Belos stood silently for a second. The guards gave passing glances towards each other. The ringleader also looked at his co-conspirators with equal confusion. The words stabbed into Belos like sharp knives. Belos sighed and turned away to return to his throne.

“Is that truly how you feel?”

The prisoners nodded. Belos rubbed the sides of his mask and shook his head. “The Titan has declared you three guilty of the highest treason against the Isles.”

The guards tightened their grips on the accused and pried their feet from the ground. The co-conspirators began to thrash to squirm their way out of their holds and bindings, but the binds were made specifically to keep them from using their magic. The ringleader resisted long enough to scream at the top of his lungs.

“You won’t get away with this!!”

The door slammed behind Belos and he was left alone in his throne room with the steady pitter patter of the Titan’s heart. Thirty minutes later, the door lightly creaked open. “My lord?”

Belos looked at the door seeing that a small, child-sized demon was behind the other side. “Ah, Kiki, please come in.”

Kikimora walked in with a troubled look. Belos walked towards her. “The sentence isn’t going as according to plan?”

Kikimora shook her head. “No, that isn’t it, my lord.” She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Are you certain that the human girl and the Owl Lady won’t try to do anything to stop your plan?”

Emperor Belos chuckled. “I am allowing her to believe that she had won for the time being.”

“Why sir?”

“She is something of a seed. I will let her live in her own little bubble convinced that she saved the Isles from whatever plan I have devised. I will provide her with the appropriate nutrients every now and then until she blossoms. When the time is right, it will be all the more delectable to rip out the rug from underneath her and watch her face contort with despair when the Titan’s will is realized.”

Kikimora nodded her head in an attempt to understand what her master was trying to say. “What of that traitor then?”

Belos clasped his staff. “Sweet Lilith? Believe me, I can see that she is already suffering because of her betrayal; her name has become smeared and recoiled like with her sister. Besides, she is meaningless in the overall will of the Titan. The Day of Unity is almost at hand.”

The three conspirators were placed into the cage in front of all the observant eyes of the children of the Isles. The citizens looked at the spectacle with fearful expressions. Word had quickly circulated around of the public sentence. The drum-line display went per usual with every passing minute keeping the conspirators on edge.

The two co-conspirators tried to fight themselves out of their restraints yelling at the imperial guards for mercy for what was about to happen. The ringleader quietly clasped his hands together and muttered something lowly. The spell to the petrification machine was cast and it slowly droned itself to life in a groan. The laser roared in anticipation for its many uses.

At the lever was Warden Wrath. He tentatively grasped the lever as if waiting for the signal.

“Please, sir, have mercy on us!” one of the men, a pig-headed demon yelped, “we’re not with that one-eyed mongrel!”

“Save your complaining,” Warden Wrath answered in his gruff voice.

The man’s screaming continued on until they heard a door opening. Emperor Belos had finally arrived. He stood at the front of the balcony overseeing the people gathered below. He slammed his staff down.

“Children of the Isles, it is by the Titan’s will that you observe the punishments bestowed to these traitors.”

He raised his hand giving Warden Wrath the signal. He nodded and pulled the lever. A laser beam projected from the machine and entered the cage containing the prisoners. The co-conspirators began to panic more wildly. They fell on top of each other in their desperation of avoiding the beam.

“This man claims to speak for the Titan’s will, but I call him a liar!” the one-eyed demon yelled at the top of his lungs.

The laser beam struck the men’s feet and worked its way up their bodies. The agonizing pain surged through their bodies propelling them to collapse onto their knees. They tried to move only to realize that their skeletons had completely transformed to stone. On the inside of their bodies their blood was traded in for minerals. Gray bumps crystallized on the outside of their bodies. Next the magic was leaking into their organs and converting the organic matter into inorganic material. Gravel entered their lungs first in small chunks.

They coughed and heaved from the oxygen quickly escaping from their lungs. Like how tar would accumulate along the person’s alveoli, the chunks of stone clumped together and shut the system down at a steady pace. The hairs in their nostrils soaked in the petrification and filled with more of the stone material. Their hearts filtered the rocky substance and struggled to pump blood through the bodies of the victims.

The ringleader tried to say something else, but his throat was closing in on itself when his windpipe was transformed to stone. Any attempt at activating the magic in his bile sac was fruitless due to it being the first organ to go. And even if by chance the organ still functioned, there was no way he could draw a circle to make it function. Death has come to ease his suffering from what felt like an eternity of pain; the kind of pain you feel when your entire body is broken like an egg and then remodeled. With one final look, his eye glazed over and hardened.

#the owl house #owl house #fanfic #fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction

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inforapound · 5 years

Text

Ease The Dawn Chapter 10

A/N - Thanks for reading and thank you so much for your likes, reblogs and in comments. They mean the world to me.

Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith

Chapter - 10 of 18

Notes - I am Canadian so there will be ‘u’ in various words.

The heavy fog that surrounded Winchester was so dense it concealed the first light making the morning bells seem out of place. The chamber was dim with little light coming through the diamond mullions and the warmth from the stone fireplace barely reached the men.

They sat in silence around a table at the centre of the room. Strained silence, broken only by the scuffing of Aethelred's boot on the gritty floor and Burgred's thick fingers tapping on the table. The fire crackled and the resignation obvious in the King's posture felt as loud as the quiet.

Slouching deeply in his chair, Alfred, studied the skin on the back of his clasped hands.

"He has no intention of negotiating with us. I do not understand the purpose of this kidnapping." Aethelred cut through the stiff atmosphere, raising both hands in question.

"There is a plan," Alfred replied without looking up. "He is not a man to act without meaning. There is something he wants." Nodding softly, his voice was muted as if he was speaking to himself. "We must wait."

"While Aethelswith sits and rots in the encampment?" Aethelred scoffed.

"Brother," Alfred straightened and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "I want her returned safely. You must know this, but we can not be foolish." His face was pensive and his wariness was showing around his eyes.

Each night, he would rest his head on his lavish goose-feather pillow, sick with thoughts of his sister's treatment. Conjuring images of where she might be forced to sleep while he lay in luxury. Was she hungry or cold, injured, he wondered, worrying if the heathens acted out their vengeance towards him, by forcing themselves upon her. His mind would race until he felt ill. Come morning, his reasonable self would admonish some of the fear, remembering the young, intelligent prince from all those years ago. He too had been young, very young. Since that time, the crippled prince had accomplished more than so many infamous Vikings. Alfred sensed, prayed, that Ivar was a true gamesman, one unlikely to tip his favour with carelessness or brute treatment of Aethelswith. His belief in his sister also provided a sliver of comfort. Her intelligence and iron nerve would serve her in any volatile circumstance as would her good sense...he hoped.

"It seems impossible," Burgred blared, finally joining the discussion. "The time for exchanging terms has passed. Our attempts to penetrate their parameter guard failed as did our blockade to impede their river access to Abingdon. They ransacked it! Their offensive strike was bloody merciless. We cannot allow them to advance further into Wessex." Clearing his throat, he shrugged. "Or Kingdoms north of Wessex."

Pressing his lips together, Alfred all but rolled his eyes. His disenchantment for Burgred was clear as he listened to the man rattle on, knowing there was nothing more important to him than becoming king of Mercia. Nothing.

"We have sacrificed nearly two chapters of our best men to those Northmen animals. Will be far more if they move on Winchester," Burgred continued, oblivious to the discomfort of the other two men. "Our attempts to rescue were fruitless."

"The strategy to resolve through force may still be a possibility," Aethelred interrupted. His strength and value always demonstrated through battle. Less often with strategy and politics and he, unlike his brother admittedly, was short on Devine patience.

"Well," Burgred shifted uneasily in his chair. "Perhaps, we must consider that the cost of retrieval is too great," pausing, he ran a hand down the front of his face, "and accept the loss... for Wessex." Burgred shook his head, sighing deeply, averting his eyes from the brothers. "Face a most unpleasant truth."

Both brother's eyes darted to Burgred. Alfred's solemn face giving little insight to his opinion but Aethelred's anger was clear.

"This is Aethelswith we are talking about," Aethelred spat.

"The Princess of Wessex. Our sister. Your wife," Alfred added calmly. "And the future queen of Mercia." Shifting he pushed his back against his chair, his hands squeezing the armrest. "You speak of her with such little emotion."

Burgred's eyes flicked between the two brothers. "Is it not the true mark of a nobleman to respond to hardship with unwavering fortitude?"

"How stoic of you," Alfred replied, his cool eyes staying fixed on Burgred.

"She has likely been defiled. Damaged. Devalued!" Burgred sneered defensively.

"There is nothing those barbarians could do to her that would devalue her," the rosiness in Alfred's cheeks began to mirror the red apples sitting in the bowl on the table. "Prince Ivar is a brilliant strategist. I, we, must trust that he would not be so short sited as to mistreat her and undermine his position to negotiate." Turning, Alfred looked toward the open cut-outs in the stone wall. "He will eventually state terms. There is an air about his delay that," closing his eyes, he shook his head, "feels personal. But, let me be unequivocally clear," he opened his eyes, narrowing them at Burgred, "there is no crown for you in Mercia without Aethelswith as queen."

"Any concession you make is a glaring sign that you can be manipulated. That he can put you on your knees by playing familiar," Burgred retaliated, leaning forward. "You bend to any of that heathen's demands and Wessex and Mercia, even Northumbria will be vulnerable and...."

"Enough," Alfred cut him off. "You will excuse us now. My brother and I must speak on the matter."

Burgred looked to Aethelred, his friend of nearly twenty years, seeking support against the King's dismissal. Gazing into his cup, Aethelred said nothing.

With a dour face, Burgred pushed his chair back across the stone floor and stood, bowing stiffly to Alfred before walking out. Alfred and Aethelred sat in silence until the chamber door thudded closed.

"Send another scout. Inform the prince that we are eager for terms."

"Alfred, wait, please listen. I know you do not care for Burgred. He..." Aethelred teetered his head, "lacks diplomacy and is, certainly, an acquired taste but he is brave and has fought for many years for this family."

"You are correct, I do not care for him. I wish I had the authority at the time to prevent his union to Aethelswith. Mother was too...determined..." his voice trailed off.

"But he is not entirely wrong, Alfred. You must admit, if we bend, we are offering this kingdom. Consider Wessex."

"Aethelred! You do not need to remind me to consider Wessex. Unless the players change, the game remains the same. I will see Aethelswith returned safely. Now, send another scout."

---

She hopped and kicked and raised her left arm into the air with a small grunt. Stepping backward, she slid quickly to the side.

"If you are attempting to seduce me with a form of exotic dance, I must tell you that you have the grace of a turkey," Ivar said in a flat voice, sitting on his stool, unclasping his braces.

"Your humour is endless, my Lord."

"Woman, what are you doing?" he asked as he tipped further down to work on a stubborn buckle.

"Endeavouring, rather failing, to usher a field mouse from the tent."

"How Christian."

Not responding, instead, she walked to the open stove and grabbed a small shovel from the iron bucket.

"To be afraid of a mouse," he continued.

"Ha," she quipped. "I sleep with Ivar The Boneless. You believe I would fear a mouse?" Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes gave away her amusement.

"Why are you such a deranged person, princess?"

"Only you would think me deranged for showing compassion to a mouse," she looked over again to see him dramatically roll his eyes. Pausing, she studied his expression.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" he asked, the ease was gone from his voice.

"You were rolling your eyes so violently, my Lord, I thought, perhaps, you might tip backward." Smiling, she let out a soft laugh.

"How witty," he clucked. "Do I need to remind you of who you are addressing in such a way?"

"You do not." Stopping, she turned fully to face him.

At a glance, Ivar could tell that she was trying her best not to smirk.

"I would not want to risk the punishment of being held captive," she added.

Grunting, Ivar bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling. "You are a very annoying person."

"And you..." she stopped, her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she looked up towards the ceiling.

"What? Finish what you were going to say," he ordered, straightening on his stool.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I did want to ask you a question," her eyes dropped to her hands as she fumbled with the tie of her dark green robe. Ivar noticed a familiar flash of emotion which often accompanied those instances at night when they would share stories and she would burst into giggles. Guilt. Guilt or shame, he was not entirely sure. Some variation of remorse, he suspected, for being so at ease with her enemy.

Nodding, he indicated for her to continue. His face lifted as if waiting on her next word.

"If it would not be a burden, I was wondering if you would teach me about your Gods."

"Princess," his head tilted to one side, "I cannot imagine you want to convert?"

Her eyes flared wide, "No!" she raised a hand as if to motion for him to stop. "No, no. I wish to better understand."

Seeing her standing before him, earnestly waiting for his response, he had to take a breath and steady his voice. Curb his delight.

"Ofcourse! This is a good notion. We will begin with the All Father," he nodded, looking down at the table, beginning to gather the papers in front of him. "There is much to learn. I hope you have the time," he jabbed, sarcastically.

"That is up to you, my Lord," she answered quietly and his eyes shot up to hers.

There was no sparkle in her soft blues as was the custom when they would banter. Instead, she looked solemn, perhaps from the reality of his silly statement. Not wanting the atmosphere to shift, he pretended not to notice.

"Come, sit, we will begin with Bor and Bestla and how everything we know of this world was created from death."

"I think I will get ready for bed now. Perhaps, tomorrow?"

"So early?" he sounded disappointed. "You will not have any food first?"

Shaking her head, she filled a bowl of water and collected a fresh washcloth from the stool beside the tub and began to wash her face.

Such a personal act to witness, he thought. It reminded him of the days lounging on his mother's bed watching her evening custom. Rinsing off both the grime of Kattegat's streets along with her brave face. If only he knew then that one day, soon after, he would be without her. Always expressive with his love for his mother, he would have still savoured and valued their time together more. Would have memorized every detail of her.

Scanning Aethelswith's figure, his eyes settled on her hands, watching how she submerged the cloth entirely in the bowl, wringing it out, careful not to allow a single drop of water to fall outside the rim. Dipping her head forward to meet her hands with the cloth, she carefully wiped her face starting under her eyes and ending with soft strokes down her throat. Her thick wild hair hung loosely plated down her back, resting over the dark robe, tied around her small waist. His eyes did not miss how the synched tie accentuated the curve of her hips and the round swell of her behind.

Letting out a small sigh, he wondered if there would ever be a time when he could not recall the nuisances of her movements. Would it even be possible to forget, he wondered? Would he, one day, desperately want to? Closing his eyes, he inhaled, picturing his future self, sitting on Kattegat's throne, surrounded by people but daydreaming of her. How each night, she would meticulously straighten the furs on her bed before climbing in. How she would lie flat on her back, eyes closed with lips moving in silent words to her God. Would that be his life? Still...regardless...he must soak it in. Burn her into his mind. All of her.

Turning, she caught him watching her from where he sat at the desk.

Clearing his throat, he looked down at his papers and shook his head, uttering, "very, very annoying."

@ill-skillsgard @allvikingsfanfic @youbloodymadgenius @lol-haha-joke @fangirl-nonsense @jacksonroth @dreamwritesimagines @ceridwenofwales @whenimaunicorn @medievalfangirl @naaladareia @yanii-the-hippie @flowers-in-your-hayr @equalstrashflavoredtrash @geekandbooknerd @readsalot73 @tephi101

#ivar #ivar fanfic #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #Ivar and Aethelswith #ivar and princess #ivar smut #vikings ivar #vikings #romantic ivar #friennemies #slow burn #kidnapping

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Shatter pt. 4

Summary: Eighteen months after the end of the world, and you’re somehow still alive. All of this newfound free time you have gives you plenty of time to ponder the question: who the hell are you?

Word count: 2080

A/N: It’s me, back with part four! Took me a little while but I finally did it. As always, special thanks to @jimmlangdon for all of their help with this series.

Read Part One HERE | Read Part Two HERE | Read Part Three HERE

Sleep is abruptly ripped away from you by the slamming of a door and a hand shaking your shoulder. You sit up, blearily blinking your eyes and attempting to discern where you are. Your neck aches painfully, and you realize that you must have fallen asleep leaning against Mallory. The witch beside you looks just as confused as you are, especially when faced with a grim Supreme.

“Follow me, girls.” You and Mallory look at each other in bemusement, both reluctantly standing to head back into the little shack. Early sunlight starts to make its way over the horizon, a faint glow lighting the bayou ahead of you. It’s peaceful, almost too peaceful considering the events of the past few weeks. Your eyes burn after all the tears shed last night, and you’re mildly disappointed that your new Sight didn’t give you anymore glimpses of Michael.

You know that you shouldn’t be sad that you didn’t see your former lover. You fought tooth-and-nail to escape him, and you should be happy that you’re now safe. But you can’t help the pangs of sadness that come with not seeing his sweet smile and his crystal blue eyes. When you first woke up moments ago, you had hoped that the hand waking you would belong to Michael. The visions of the rising Antichrist are shattered when you pass through the door and are blindsided.

It’s a coordinated attack, you can tell from the multiple witches trying to pin you to the ground and Mallory’s screams as the same happens to her. The uneven wood digs into your back, making you grimace while your hands are held above your head and your legs grow heavy. Myrtle Snow smiles at you apologetically, red hair coming into view and gloved hands making sure you don’t go anywhere.

“Miss Cordelia? What…?” You’re being assaulted, both mentally and physically, and are slow at processing your current situation as a result. The Supreme’s blonde hair is slightly mussed, and you realize that the head you had yanked in your fight to get away had been hers.

“Your allegiances, while not your fault, are still fractured. On the one hand, your mind wants to be with us, your sisters. On the other, your heart is still with Michael. Even before Michael’s mind had been made up that he would get you back, we had known of his plans for the apocalypse. You and Mallory are both extremely powerful young women, so if you were to be buried underground with us to survive the initial blasts, your magic would act as a beacon to forces that want to do us harm.”

“I don’t understand!” Mallory cries from next to you. You glance over at her to see tears tracking down her face as she shakes in terror. Your hand creeps across the floor and intertwines with hers, squeezing in reassurement.

“Coco has already made the sacrifice, and had her mind wiped as a result. Her wealth will ensure that all of you safely reach the Outposts that are being built for survivors. Your powers, along with your memories, will lay dormant until the time is right. As a result, (Y/N), Michael will not be able to use your bond to his advantage, since you won’t have memories of him to even have a bond.” It’s your turn to start crying, shaking your head back and forth desperately.

“No, please. You can’t do this! I don’t want to forget him, I can’t forget him!” You whimper. Cordelia smiles at you sympathetically, and you want to reach up and slap her across the face.

“I promise that you’ll feel differently when you get your memories back. You’re going to be saving all of humanity with this sacrifice.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this. You’re taking who I am away from me against my will! I don’t care if this will save humanity, you shouldn’t be allowed to do this.” You hiss, eyes steeling in a glare. Before you can continue with your verbal torrent, Cordelia produces a translucent powder. You start struggling in one last attempt at an escape, but your efforts are fruitless. The powder gets blown into your face, and your coughing draws it into your lungs. Before you black out, there’s only one word on your lips.

“Michael.”

30 months later…

The harsh knocking on your door acts as your alarm clock today, just as it has everyday for the past eighteen months. You jolt up, sheets tangled around your legs and bunched at the bottom of the bed. Running a hand through your messy hair, you listen as the Gray makes their way down the hallway, providing a wakeup call for your fellow occupants. Hell, better known as Outpost 3, had been your home for just over a year. The period of time directly before the bombs fell had been a flurry of events, involving gathering your few belongings and escaping with your boss to a private jet owned by Coco St. Pierre-Vanderbilt.

“Coco! Coco wait!” Mr. Gallant yelled, hopping out of the convertible and jogging towards the jet. You stay behind to grab all of his things and help his grandmother, Evie, out of the car.

“Gallant? What the hell are you doing here?” Coco squawked.

“You said there were enough tickets for your family and your husband. That’s five tickets, and only two of them are being used.” He explained excitedly.

“Your assistant can’t come, Brock should be here at any moment!” You had huffed at being called Gallant’s ‘assistant.’ You were basically his sister, but there wasn’t any time to call the socialite out when Coco’s assistant screamed a warning. Runway workers were rapidly advancing in a hope to grab a spot and survive nuclear annihilation.

“Coco, I’m not leaving without (Y/N).” Gallant affirmed, making your heart warm at his effort to save your life. Coco thought for a moment, finally rolling her eyes and nodding.

“Fine, but we need to go like, NOW!”

The jet had barely made it to cruising altitude before the bombs dropped, and you couldn’t help but to thank your lucky stars every single day. Even living in the strictest, most-backwards living conditions was better than how you were living for a while before the end of the world.

You didn’t know who you were. You had amnesia, whether it be from an injury or some sort of coping mechanism, but the facts remained the same; you had woken up in an apartment that you didn’t own, with no memory except for your name and a friend who could help you. That friend was Mr. Gallant, who quickly took you in and gave you so many things, the least of those being a job. He was a shoulder to cry on when you were frustrated about your lack of memories, your ‘boyfriend’ when weird guys were hitting on you, your therapist when you needed to vent, and your best friend. Technically being his assistant, you had been expecting to be a Gray along with Coco’s assistant, Mallory. To your shock, your name was on a list guaranteeing that you receive a spot on the highest tier of this new society. The purple dress you slip on as you get ready acts as a reminder that you’re probably the luckiest person left alive.

“Welcome to another beautiful day underground.” Gallant greets you with a snicker when you enter the dining room, handing you a glass of water and patting the chair next to you. Somehow, even after all this time, you had still managed to remain best friends with the man.

“Did I hear something about horseback riding on the schedule today?” You joke, earning a few laughs from the Purples scattered through the room.

“I mean this is the nicest way, (Y/N), but you look like shit.”

“Thank you, it’s this new beauty routine I’m trying.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. Gallant sighs, grabbing your hand in his.

“Did you have the dream again?” ‘The dream,’ or what should be known as dreams, have plagued you since the day you woke up in the unfamiliar apartment in the middle of Los Angeles. Sometimes they involved beautiful women, all dressed in black and smiling at you. Other times there was a swamp, the muggy air enveloping your subconscious and chirping echoing from within the ecosystem. There were also a few dreams that left you crying and shaking, dreams filled with screaming, blood, and gunfire. The most common dreams, though, all revolved around a man.

You dreamed of this man almost every time you fell asleep, yet you couldn’t ever clearly see his face. You knew that he was tall and had beautiful blond curls that tickled your face when he leaned down to kiss you. You were always touching this man in some way or another, usually just holding hands as you relive what you assume are your lost memories. Sometimes, his face would clear just long enough for you to see his haunting eyes, which are the clearest shade of blue you’ve ever seen. You get so lost in reminiscing on your dream that you don’t realize you haven’t yet answered Gallant until he calls your name again.

“Of course, I always do.” You respond.

“Which one was it? The gun one?”

“It was the one with the man.” Gallant knew about all your dreams, and had listened to you attempt to dissect them for countless hours.

“I love your hot mystery man.” He says playfully, grinning.

“Apparently I did, too. Too bad I don’t know who he actually is.” The gelatinous cubes, your only source of nutrition for over a year, lay untouched on your respective plates.

“You’ve been having the dream with your blue-eyed honey a lot more often, lately. Maybe that means something?” He suggests, picking up his fork and absently spinning it in his hand. You shrug, considering it.

“Maybe. Or maybe-” The shrill sound of an alarm startles you, and your hands clap against your ears for protection. Ms. Mead walks quickly to the dining room, staring at the gathered survivors.

“Security breach. Back to your rooms, all of you.” She says sternly, watching as everyone stands immediately. You follow the herd, but your thoughts remain on what Ms. Mead just said. A security breach? For the duration of your time here, nothing had ever gotten through the walls surrounding the Outpost. You don’t know whether to be intrigued or scared at this.

“Think it’s cannibals?” Gallant whispers into your ear, snapping his teeth to make you jump.

“Don’t be so morbid, Gal, Jesus.” You mutter. He wants to retort, but you’re all shepherded to your rooms and given strict orders to remain there until further instruction.

The hours until you’re summoned out pass slowly, and you find yourself trying to sleep in order to pass the time. You’re also hoping that you see those familiar blue eyes again, but are disheartened when you’re told to gather in the library before you can dream. Coco’s already sitting next to Gallant, talking his ear off about god-knows-what, and Evie sits on his other side. You take the only open seat left, next to Timothy. He smiles at you when you join him, Emily holding holding his hand tightly.

“Any clue what this is about?” You ask.

“Maybe they’re finally gonna take us out.” Emily suggests, wiggling her eyebrows to make you both giggle.

“We should be so lucky.” Your banter is interrupted when Ms. Venable, the leader of the Outpost, enters the room. She stands at the head of the room, eyes cast towards the door the entire time. When she still hasn’t spoken in two minutes, you sigh and start picking at your nails to give yourself something to do. Heels clacking against the floor fill the room, but you assume it’s The Hand joining the group after finishing their rounds. You only look up when Timothy nudges you slightly.

Immediately, your eyes widen at the sight you’re faced with. It’s not The Hand. Instead, a tall man, dressed to the nines, with long blond hair and startling blue eyes, commands the room with only his presence. Everybody stares at him in varying degrees of lust and attraction, but you stare at him for a different reason; you know this man. You’re not sure how, or from where, but you know him.

“My name is Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative.”

Tag list: @queencocoakimmie @nana15774 @lichellaw @sammythankyou @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @let-me-try-mom @uptosomeseriousfuckshit @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog @everything-is-awesomesauce @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning @ccodyfern @dolceandchalamet

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #ahs #michael langdon imagines #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse

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finalfantasyxivwritings · 5 years

Text

Cat(nip) Got Your Tongue?

Relationship: Rurik (OC) & Scions [Gen]

Rating: General

Wordcount: 5k

Summary: After a freak accident involving a shipment of crates containing important medical herbs, Rurik, the Warrior of Light, is left in what appears to be a drugged-out stupor. The Scions are sure to figure out the cause as well as the cure to what ails the Hrothgar--but that’s assuming they can keep him from causing all sorts of chaos across the Crystarium first.

Note: This was written by @blood--hunter as a commission! If you are interested in getting something yourself, please check out her commission info here!

"His aether has changed," Y'shtola's voice rings through the Ocular like the hit of a bell. She rattled the very bones of all who heard her words, but that was not the Sorceress' fault, rather it was the fault of whatever ailment seemed to sweep over their friend. The Warrior of Light, Rurik, had been behaving strangely for several hours now. There was not a very good term for the way he acted, both high strung and lethargic all at once. The Hrothgar could be bouncing off the very walls one moment and then blissfully quiet, nearly drooling, in a corner the next. Rurik could pull the occasional prank, but this was a bit much, even for him.

When it became obvious that their friend was not going to emerge from his stuppor any time soon, the Scions had gathered as they had in the past. Ryne seemed the most perturbed, she had not spent that many moons in the Hrothgar's presence but saw him as a friend all the same. She had watched him nearly die once already, and she was remorse to see him in such a state. "Will he be alright?" Her voice wavers, fingers pressing at the hem of her almost too white dress. She stands but a few feet away, in the midst of the semi circle that she and her friends had formed.

Y'shtola's lips form a thin line. She stands from her position in front of Rurik. The usually light-hearted man is but a drooling mess in front of her. She may no longer be able to see his face, but even she can tell how bad he has gotten. "I ... don't know..." The Sorceress presses a knuckle to her cheek, thinking, even her ears flicker with the task. She had seen nothing like this, not even when her friend had absorbed so much corrupted aether that he had been on the verge of becoming a Light Warden. What sort of nonsense had Rurik gotten himself into this time? Her eyes slip to the Aether that she recognizes as Urianger, quirking a brow in question.

The Elezen man simply shakes his head, his own mind racing with quandaries. He takes his place beside Y'shtola, leaning to peer into his friend's eyes. "I has't mine own suspicions, luckily naught of which life-threatening," He says, gold eyes meeting a mix of golden green. They were blown wide, so wide that he could barely see the iris for the pupil. "But I think it best that we watch him. I would not see him harmed while in this state." He stands to his full height, his arms folded in front of his chest as he bows his head to think.

"You want us to babysit the Warrior of Light?" Alisaie is quick to interject, her hands on her hips.

She was not happy about this turn of events. It seemed as if they had just retrieved their friend from the jaws of death, only for him to return just as quickly to them. Rurik had the worst luck that the young Elezen had ever encountered. She frowns, watching as the Hrothgar lays there, eyes as wide as saucers. This was not like the patients back at the Inn, no, but it did seem as if something was ... wrong."It's not as if he can do much at the moment."

"Sister," Alphinaud gives her a look, one that she had seen far too many times in all their years of being related. "I believe Urianger is simply worried that our friend may be harmed in his current ... state." He motions to the Hrothgar. Alisaie could practically feel the lecture that was about to come. Her brother holds up a finger and Alisaie has a hard time not turning her brain off. "Lest you forget, Rurik has just as many enemies here in the first as he does in our Source. It would be irresponsible to leave him unguarded as he regains his faculties." The self satisfied smirk on his lips earns him a smack on the shoulder from his sister.

"I know that you great oaf I simply-!"

A sigh comes from Thancred's direction as he folds his arms, fixing the twins with a raised brow. "Well, since the both of you seem so sincere, I vote that you take first watch." There is sputtering from both of the young Elezen but the Hyur simply waves it away. Instead, he focuses his gaze on Urianger, "Ryne and I will search for an answer here in the Cyrstarium. I assume that you and Y'shtola have your own sources?" All business. It was how Thancred handled things now. When his friend's life was on the line, he could do little else besides convert all of his worry into sheer force of will.

Urianger can only nod, still deep in thought, racking his brain for any plausible explanation as to why Rurik would be this way, Y'shtola answers in his stead, "We'll begin as soon as possible."

And that was how Alisaie and Alphinaud both ended up with what was, essentially, a large puddle of Hrothgar on their apartment's floor. The Exarch had been kind enough, or felt guilty enough, to lend them a room in the Pendants upon their arrival to the first. Both of them had used it sparingly, as their responsibilities had taken them far from the safety of the Cystarium but the small room came in handy for this situation in particular.

"Should we ... feed him?" Alphinaud questions, watching as Rurik pawed placidly at the rug beneath him. If Alphinaud were a weaker man, he would admit that the action was almost cute. Like a Coerl kitten that had yet to grow into it's claws. If the Coeurl kitten were a large man that had the power to kill gods. It was strange to see the man who had saved Eorzea on countless occasions, brought to bat at the spare pieces of yarn on his quarter's rug. Alisaie stood beside him, her hands on her hips once more.

"No," she says, worry creasing her brow. The both of them dealt with stress in different ways. Alisaie preferred to plunger her sword into most of her problems while Alphinaud had taken to thinking things through. They both had their respective flaws but he could practically feel the stress rolling off of his sister. This wasn't something she could fight. "If it is some sort of drug, or worse, a poison, then it could perhaps make his state worse."

Rurik rolls about on their rug and Alisaie cannot help the way her fingers curl at her sides. Angry. Powerless to fix this. "I don't see why we can't bring him with us while we search."

"And have some crazed lunatic stab him in the back while he can't defend himself?" Alphinaud snaps. Perhaps he was not adjusting to the situation as he should. He knows that he should step away, give himself a break, but he worries for his friend. Worries that they will not retrieve Rurik from whatever stupor he has been put in. Will Rurik ever be able to stand by his side once more?

"It's better than just standing here! Doing nothing!"

"We can't risk his safety!"

"He's the bloody Warrior of Light! He'll be fine!"

"I'm not imposing that-"

There is a shriek of a woman, far too close to be unalarming for the two Elezen. They turn their attention back to their friend only to find the space he had once occupied strangely empty. Not only that, but it seemed that their door was also wide open, leading out onto the walkway of the Pendants. They gasped in unison, look to each other, look back to the door, and then bolted into the open air of the Crystarium.

How Rurik had gotten down three flights so quickly, neither of them knew, but when they found him he was, thankfully, none the worse for wear. In fact, he was simply playing with a ribbon. The shriek they heard was Ryne as she dangled the piece of silk in front of him, his eyes large as he followed it, swatting at the air. When the twins came rushing down, worked into a frenzy of worry, the Warrior of Light had been content to simply swat at the toy provided for him.

"Ryne!" Alphinaud pants, resting his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, "Whenever did you get here and ... how did... how did..."

Alisaie seems unmarred to say the least, an amused smile on her lips as she watches Rurik. "It seems our friend was bored in our quarters, brother."

Ryne's blue eyes focus on the both of them, blinking in surprise. "He came all the way from your quarters? I was just coming to check on the both of you when he appeared all of a sudden."

"All of a sudden, you don't think he jumped down here?" Alisaie's worry only surges but it is soon staunched by the arrival of a white coated figure.

Thancred huffs, both his hands stuffed in his pockets, face carved into a frown. It would seem his search had come to a halt. And not a very pleasing one at that.

"Let me guess," He says, approaching the four of them. "The both of you took your eyes off of him for only a moment, and he managed to get all the way down here?"

Alphinaud and Alisaie at least have the manners to look guilty.

"Thancred..." Alphinaud tries, but the older male waves him off.

"It's fine," He says, "We came to retrieve the both of you. Our search within the Cabinet of Curiosity has proven fruitless. However, Neither Ryne nor I are scholars, perhaps a search of your own will provide our answer."

Both of the twins perk up at that, the thought of doing something besides standing around seems to give them some sort of comfort. Thancred had known they would be restless, they were always the ones to try and solve their problems the quickest. When it came to the Warrior of Light, their dearest friend, they had no limit to the energy they were willing to expend. He should have allowed them to take their own search for an answer, but Thancred had been worried about Ryne. She had not been in as many life threatening situations as the twins, and her worry had to be focused on the task at hand or she was liable to be swallowed by it.

"Ryne and I will take over watching him. Come find us if your search turns up anything." Without another word, both of the Leveilleur twins run off towards the library, Thancred does not try to stop the sigh that leaves his lips. His eyes turn to Rurik who is still swatting at Ryne's ribbon, if with less enthusiasm than before.

She looks up, a small smile on her lips. It's tense at the edges, strained. "Perhaps we should let him have some fresh air. He's been cooped up for a while now; everyone poking and prodding at him." Was there some sense of understanding in her words? Thancred had not asked Ryne much about her time in Eulmore, but he could guess as to how it went.

He nods silently and the young girl takes her leave without a word. She uses her ribbon to urge Rurik onwards, the Hrothgar following after her eagerly enough. They come to stop in a grassy area near the Crystarium's market. The area isn't busy, with only a few people milling about at this midday hour. Most were hard at work but some were able to afford the small amount of free time to browse the shops and stalls. Ryne takes her seat in the grass and, to Thancred's surprise, Rurik follows suit. Perhaps he was not as blazed out of his mind as the rest of the Scions seemed to think.

Thancred takes his place not a few fulms away, silently watching the two of them. Ryne seemed more calm, most likely still worried, but calm. She plays idly with Rurik before the Hrothgar seems to grow bored and flops over. It's cute, even Thancred can admit that, and the young girl laughs. The ribbon slips to the ground, forgotten as the three of them allow the calm air of the Crystarium to wash over them. It is only after a few minutes of this uninterrupted silence that Ryne takes up the ribbon once more. However, this time, she leans over Rurik’s head, beginning to wind the ribbon into his hair. Thancred raises a brow, considering stopping her, but Rurik does not resist so he allows it.

Within the matter of a bell, Rurik's hair is filled to the brim with pink ribbons tied in much the same way as Ryne's was. It was almost cute. It was almost ridiculous. Whenever they managed to retrieve Rurik from his strange spell, he would not be happy but for now it amused Ryne and Thancred couldn't take that from her.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing?"

Thancred immediately tenses, cringing as he turns to look at Y'shtola. She was wearing a frown, hands on her hips as she stared him down. "I assume you found something?"

That only makes her fold her arms over her chest. Ah, she was angry now. "Do not divert the subject, Thancred. Why is Rurik bedecked in fanciful ribbons?"

Ryne stands, moving over to the both of them. "I am sorry, it was my idea. I just thought that the ribbons looked nice..." She trails off.

Y'shtola's anger melts just as soon as it had appeared. "Do not worry yourself over much, Ryne." Her eyes snap to Thancred, giving him a look. "I would blame your caretaker for allowing such a thing to proceed, but I am sure that Rurik will not mind your ... decorations, once he has returned to us."

"So you have found something." Thancred says, glossing over Y'shtola's dissapproving glance.

"Perhaps, the Blessed themselves did not know how to cure our friend. Curiously, Runar was able to help a great deal." She turns her all seeing eyes to Rurik, frowning slightly. There was a measure of worry there that Thancred was not unused to seeing. "I have already delivered my discoveries to Urianger. It is only a matter of waiting for his reply."

"Do you mean to take our watch from us?"

Y'shtola nods to him, "I think that best, yes. Urianger may need more hands in order to gather supplies for whatever concoction he means to cook up." She smiles ruefully, "I am not suited to such a task. I will take over in your stead."

Thancred nods, turning his eyes to Ryne who nods in return. "We're off to Il Mehg then. Try not to allow him to get into too much trouble?" There is a teasing edge there that causes Y'shtola to smile in earnest.

As soon as Thancred and Ryne had taken their leave, Y'shtola made a vain attempt at removing the ribbons from his hair. Now only was Rurik uncooperative in the attempt, it also seemed that the young girl was a vicious ribbon maker. They did not want to be removed, no matter how much she tugged or pulled. If she did not know that it would hurt her friend, then she would consider calling down fire upon the blasted things. That was, obviously, not an option. So instead she was stuck toting around a bedecked Hrothgar through the Crystarium.

"However did you get yourself into such a situation?" She sighs, watching as Rurik seemed giddy enough to all but bound down the stairs towards the Trivium. Perhaps taking a man to such a place wasn't the best of ideas but Y'shtola was nothing if not practical. Her skills were best used in such a place, where her mind could be used to tear apart problems of both physical and aetherial importance.

They came to halt at the bottom of the stairs, Y'shtola was just about to make her way towards the small fields the area contained, when someone called out for her.

"Master Matoya!" The very name they used told her where they hailed from and she can't help but smile as she turns towards the noise.

"The Night's Blessed, here in the Crystarium?" She says, though she can't keep the happiness from her voice. She cannot make out their faces, no, but she recognizes their aether. They have been among the Blessed since her arrival, old friends.

They approach, practically radiating happiness. "We thought that we would help in the Crystarium's efforts to produce greens." One of them reports, if only she could remember their names.

"Yes, our ventures in the Greatwood have allowed us to learn much about plantlife. Sustainable farming may be the only thing between some village's and certain death."

Y'shtola nods, posing a knuckle against her cheek as she thinks, "Yes, I believe you are correct. The Crystarium's work could save countless lives."

"Not only that," Y'shtola can hear the tease in the other person's voice. Oh dear, could this be about-- "Runar sent us to check on you. He seemed worried, mentioned something about a mishap in the ruins?"

Y'shtola is glad that she has a better check on her emotions than most people. Most a maiden would blush and sweep away their worries with little a thought. Y'shtola simply chuckles, "I would expect just as much from him. Tell him not to worry, I will return to my duties with the Night's Blessed as soon as my responsibilities in the Cyrstarium are complete."

"Oh, don't tell us that it's that Hrothgar fellow you were with?"

"Rurik? No, he is-- wait--!``she casts her gaze about, Rurik's aether was nowhere in sight. "Seven Hells." She spits. How could she be so foolish as to lose him at a time like this? She huffs, disappointed in herself, and marches past the two individuals she had been talking to. He must have went farther, into the Hortorium perhaps, there was no lack of bits and bobs within the agricultural center for the man to amuse himself with while he was in this state.

She comes to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over the tools and magiks that were being used in the pursuit of stabilizing the First's food supply. It was honest work. But honest work was also complicated and, sometimes, dangerous. She realized now that her decision to assist the Crystarium while looking after Rurik, was a bad one. If he managed to get himself hurt while he was in such a state, she would never forgive herself.

Y'shtola resists the urge to call out for him. Better to look with her own eyes than to cause a stir amongst the hard working botanists. Besides, she was better at finding him than most people. With her eyesight as it was, finding a person by their aether should be no issue, but there were many people scattered about the space and at first she doesn't quite notice where Rurik's aether has gone.

Until she looks at a small stowage of plants near the back of the facility. Their lights ring hollow in the face of Rurik's and she curses herself for having not seen it earlier. He is like a beacon amongst the stocks of Millioncorn. Y'shtola marches towards him, her steps aggressive as she comes to a stop before the farm rows. "Rurik," She says, her arms folding over her chest in a huff. "You can't hide from me. I can see you." She sets her face into a displeased frown that would make most children cry at but a glance. The Hrothgar does not emerge from his hiding place, he simply peeks from between the stocks as if a Miqo'te cub caught in the midst of doing something ill advised.

"Don't look at me so," She warns, her tone icy cold as she stares him down. "Just because you've gotten yourself into some sort of stuppor does not mean you are allowed to prance about like a child..." She is moments away from wagging her finger when an awkward cough erupts from behind her. She turns on her heel, in her annoyance she has pressed her ears firmly against her skull. Whoever had interrupted her scolding was about to get one of their own but she is able to stop herself before she can truly begin.

"Urianger."

The Elezen man manages a polite smile at the woman before him, his golden eyes slowly traveling to the Hrothgar hidden between the stalks of Millioncorn. For such a muscled man, he is able to hide himself quite well. Then again, Urianger would expect no less of the Warrior of Light and Darkness.

"Pray forgive me, Y'shtola, as I would but assume thee most astute in the matters of our friend, better than most of our compatriots."

Y'shtola has enough reason to look slightly embarrassed and she turns her head to eye the Horthgar suspiciously. "It seems that, even in his current state, he is liable to play tricks on me. He caught me unawares, distracted as I was by idle conversation."

"And what of the ribbons?" Urianger's voice is tinged with amusement. It was true that the pink ribbons still clung tightly to Rurik's hair. Ryne must have been able to work a miracle into the silk itself. Then again, her own ribbons never seemed to come undone. Perhaps it was an acquired skill.

The Miqo'te woman sighs, shaking her head, "Ryne's handiwork. I cannot undo them no matter how hard I try."

A chuckle rumbles from Urianger's chest as he can't help but shake his head as well, "I would expect no less. Come, let us retrieve our friend and gather the rest of the Scions--I quite believe I yet finished with the cure to bring our friend unto his previous mental state."

"So easily? You do not believe it is poison?"

Again, he shakes his head, "No, but rather the opposite of such." Y'shtola manages to give him a look but he nods his head towards the stairs. "Pray retrieve the others. I will pry our friend away from the Crystarium's crops ere he anger the botanists."

The Sorceress took her leave without another word. Finding the rest of the Scions was not an overly simple a task as one might think. Alisaie and Alphinaud were the easiest to track down, as they had stayed in the Cabinet of Curiosity since being assigned there by Thancred. The aforementioned Gunbreaker and his charge were a different story altogether. They were not in Il Mehg, as Y'shtola would have thought. No, it seemed that they had absconded to Eulmore in an attempt to find the ingredients that Urianger would need for his cure. Why they had need of Ruby Tomatoes and Cider Vinegar, Y'shtola did not yet know.

They gathered before the stairs leading to the Crystal Tower. It seemed a fitting enough place, as night had swept over the whole of Lakeland and had smothered everything in the peace that was darkness. The five of them waited, and then waited some more. It seemed that Urianger's task had taken up more time than even Y'shtola's.

"Where in the Seven Hells is Urianger?" Thancred grumbles, the ingredients for Rurki's cure perched in a cloth bag at his hip. He had spent quite the coin on such things, as apparently vinegar and tomatoes were not a common food staple among the denizens of the First and only those with the most rich of taste could afford such things to be in their daily diet. Thancred had spent more than his last few coins trying to track them down.

Alphinaud frowns, gazing into the mid distance as he spotted two familiar figures begin to approach them. "It seems he is coming towards us now, our Warrior of Light in tow." The young Elezen man seemed to speak true, though "in tow" seemed to mean dangling a simple toy before Rurik's face.

Y'shtola is quick to fold her arms, tilting her head at the spectacle. Thankfully they were not in broad daylight, for if the citizens of the Crystarium had seen such a thing happen before their very eyes, they might have lost all respect for the Warrior of Darkness. As it was, it would make for a great story during the Annual Scion Meeting. "What possessed you to think this was a good idea?" She asks as the two of them draw closer.

"Well," Urianger says, stopping before the small gathering of his friends, "It seemed most appropriate in the course of action, given that he hath refused to remove himself from the botanist's hard won fields of labor." He dangles the small toy in front of Rurik, keeping him occupied. It was but a stick with a small string attached to it, but it more than kept the Hrothgar's attention. "I thought it best that he did not run off again, so I fashioned him this toy to amuse him with." His eyes move to Thancred, "Am I correct to assume thee hast procured the items of which I asked?"

The Gunbreaker nods, tossing the other man the sack. "It costs a great sum of coin. I do hope that it works."

Urianger catches it with ease, opening it before nodding to himself. He makes sure the pass the stick toy to Alisaie who bounces it idly in her hand. "Are we sure this will work?" She asks, more than a little concern in her voice.

"It couldn't be as easy as a few food items, could it?" Ryne asks, watching as Rurik bats at the string, it seemed his condition hadn't changed in the few hours she and Thancred had been gone.

Urianger retrieves a potion bottle from his knapsack, making sure to carefully pour the vinegar into it. "Not without difficulty, no, but the influence of this mixture should alleviate most of his symptoms." He squeezes the tomato into the bottle, the juice dripping down his arm. "If I am correct in mine assumptions, then he will but return to his previous self within a matter of bells."

"Does it really require such a vile concoction?" Y'shtola says, refusing the urge to hold her fingers to her nose.

Urianger smiles to himself, shaking the bottle in one hand to stir it's contents. "That thee art able to smell how pungent it is, bodes most well for us." It is then that he moves to the Hrothgar. Rurik is still busy attempting the catch the ever elusive string when Urianger approaches and uncorks the potion. The foul stench makes its way into Rurik's nostrils, causing him to sneeze.

The Scions wait with baited breath, watching Rurik with keen eyes as he sneezes over and over again. It is only after he stops that he lifts his head and-

"Why do I have ribbons in my hair?" He asks, quirking one white brow as he brings a clawed hand to his head.

For a moment there is stunned silence--but then the Scions burst into laughter, leaving a very confused Rurik to watch as his friends go nearly red in the face with the effort of it.

It is Alisaie who is the first to calm down enough to question him, "Rurik, you silly man, however did you end up in such a state?"

Rurik looks himself over, seeing that his clothes are dusty and he feels particularly tired. "Well, the last thing I remember I was standing right here..." He trails off, closing his eyes to think, "... And there were these delivery people, with boxes upon boxes in their arms. I was trying to make way, when I tripped and fell over onto one of them..." He looks up, ears perking up, "After that I-I don't remember what happened at all!"

"I have a theory," Urianger says, having staved off his laughter for the time being, though an amused smirk is still obvious on his lips, "Cataria. A common herb used for medicinal purposes within the lands First. ‘Tis easy to grow and is oft a cure for respiratory issues. In the Source, however, such a similar herb is known as Catnip."

"Oh nooo..." Rurik groans, resting his head in his hands.

Alphinaud frowns, his brow furrowing as he tries to put the pieces together, "Catnip? Whatever does it do?"

Y'shtola cuts in, her amusement evident, "In most cultures it can be used for medicine, yes, but among the Mqio'te and Hrothgar it's a--"

"Stimulant." Rurik sighs, standing from his position on the ground. "In some people more than others." He shuffles, embarrassed.

"And you got into boxes of the stuff," Thancred rumbles another laugh, "No wonder why you were out of your wits. Your very aether was overwhelmed with it! And here I was thinking you were poisoned." He moves to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder. "The great Warrior of Darkness, defeated by a box of herbs."

There is a rumble that emanates from Rurik. Thancred is liable to think he is growling at him, but it is the growl of something else entirely.

"Perhaps we should feed our poor friend?" Alisaie says, a smile on her lips as she tilts her head towards the eatery.

The rest of the Scions nod and Rurik is swept into the midst of the group, growling stomach and all.

Ryne easily pulls up beside him, a smile on her lips as she walks steadily by his side. "I'm glad you're back to normal."

The Hrothgar cannot keep the smile from his lips, adjusting his glasses with the movement. "I'm glad I am too."

The young girl does not keep the teasing smile from her lips, "Thancred says you owe him for the vinegar and tomatoes. They were expensive in Eulmore."

Rurik deflates some, hanging his head in mock agony, "I suppose I will have to pay him back sometime."

"Pay for the first round of drinks and we'll be even!" The Gunbreaker cuts in.

"You have a deal!"

#writing #nonreaderinsert #oc #rurik #others writing #commission #shb spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers #sfw #sfw nonreaderinsert

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