#which. i appreciate the care i am withering away inside when i hear that though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lowkeyorloki · 3 years

Text

Goldfish

Pairing: Loki x Mobius

Rating: Teen and up, but nothing more than a couple kisses

A/N: Hiiii sorry I’m never on here anymore I’m a bit busy and I don’t have time to post consistently on tumblr if I want to keep updating my multichapter! I know this isn’t my usual content but I’m posting it on my ao3 so I figured I’d drop it here as well ^.^ it’s funny, I don’t even ship lokius but I saw some fanart on twitter of them hugging and it just... inspired me. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy <3

It’s just that… Loki knows it will have to be him.

He can’t read Mobius, not like he can every other human he comes across. Or being, even. Mobius has seen every moment of Loki’s life, some of which Loki himself will now never live out or understand. Mobius has watched Loki in his most private moments.

It makes the TVA agent inescapable. He knows Loki, truly knows him, whether Loki likes it or not.

And so Loki can’t tell with Mobius. The small exhaled laughs or the allowance of Loki to fix his tie. Loki doesn’t know if Mobius does these things because he wants to, or because Loki would like to think the other man wants him to.

And Mobius is loyal to the TVA, anyway. Even if he were to look past all of Loki’s faults, even if Mobius were to see Loki as anything more than a pain in the ass of a friend, he wouldn’t do anything. It was controversial enough to bring in Loki at all.

Loki should be thankful he has Mobius in any capacity at all.

And so Loki knows he would have to make the first move. And he can’t do that, because Mobius is possibly the only person who could destroy Loki with a simple rejection.

Loki keeps quiet, and lives for when his shoulder brushes Mobius’s in the elevator.

Trying to find the variant is exhausting. Mobius is on his seventh cup of coffee, and his head is starting to buzz. Not the good, productive type of buzz either. The type that makes someone need to lay down.

Apparently, Loki has already had that idea. Mobius glances at him, asleep across the table and surrounded by books and loose papers. As he drains the last of what’s in his cup, Mobius realizes he hasn’t seen Loki eat or drink a single thing since he got here. If he had to, Mobius would bet money the god hasn’t been sleeping either.

Mobius stands up, his back cracking when he does. He groans - Mobius is getting old, something he’s noticed more and more lately. He walks around the table until he’s right next to Loki, ready to wake him up. Loki’s breaths are even, hitting the ends of a few pieces of paper. Mobius has never really seen him like this - calm, subdued. He almost looks peaceful. Mobius leans over Loki, hands on his hips as he examines the other man.

Mobius would never tell Loki, but it is obvious that the dark-haired man is a god. There are just things about his looks that clue Mobius in.

Loki’s skin, even as it’s gotten dull with his time in the TVA, is technically flawless. He glows, even in his embarrassing or rude moments. His cheekbones are impossibly sharp, and his lips are the reddest Mobius has seen. He would guess they’re soft.

Loki’s hair was the most dead giveaway. It always looked perfect, loose curls that seemed to suck in any light. It was the opposite of Mobius’s graying blond hair. He’s shiny. Everything about Loki is shiny.

Loki stirs, and Mobius straightens up, not wanting Loki to see him watching. He was upset enough that Mobius has watched his entire life over.

Mobius ponders how to wake Loki up when a lock of his black hair falls into his face. Without thinking, Mobius reaches forward and tucks it behind the man’s ear.

Reckless. Loki really does start to wake up then, and Mobius swats him with the corner of the folders in his hand.

“Come on,” Mobius says. “We’re not even close to done.”

The two of them are so close to making strides. Loki is smart, just like Mobius knew - just like he keeps convincing Ravonna - but he’s being held back. It’s like a single wrong look could make Loki wither away, be absent for the rest of the day. Mobius has no clue how someone who thought so highly of himself could be so affected by the glare of a random agent. Maybe Mobius didn’t know Loki as well as he thought. Only in small ways, though.

And Mobius still hasn’t seen him eat or drink a damn thing.

He stands up abruptly, surprising Loki. His head shoots up, perfect curls becoming loose and falling in his face in the process. Mobius almost considers brushing them away.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing towards the exit. Loki narrows his eyes.

“We haven’t even been here four hours,” he says, which is generous, because they both know they’ve only been there for two. Mobius lets out a harsh sigh.

“Am I the supervisor or are you? Let’s go, Loki.” Loki seems to know Mobius is doing him a favor, and stands up as well. Loki follows him down a new set of hallways, stands next to him in an elevator he hasn’t been on yet.

“Am I to take it we’re breaking the rules, or…?” Loki trails off in a way that is anything but unsure.

“It’s for the sake of the cause,” Mobius says. “We don’t need to address it directly.”

Mobius does look over his shoulder when he gets to the door, and locks it as soon as they’re both inside. He flicks on the lights, and Loki looks bored. Mobius lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you. Sit down,” he gestures towards the couch.

“Agent Mobius, are you allowing me in your home?” Loki’s eyes glint. Despite himself, Mobius finds himself relieved to hear Loki making quips again. He already might have more energy.

“Hey, if we don’t talk about it, my job security looks a lot better,” Mobius sets a bowl down in front of Loki. “Will you please eat something? God or not, I don’t know how you’re still alive after a month.” Loki presses his lips into a thin line.

“Mobius, I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t need to -” Mobius is already prepared, and tosses a piece of food directly into Loki’s mouth as he speaks. He makes a gagging noise, and looks at Mobius furiously, but the other man is already laughing.

“What… what are these?” He asks after swallowing, seemingly admitting defeat. Mobius laughs again.

“Goldfish. They’re from Earth you know,” Mobius eats a few, and quietly celebrates when Loki does as well.

“Goldfish. I know of an employee you have that might benefit from these,” Loki tells him.

“I’m flattered you think I’m anyone’s, especially Casey’s, superior. But really, the only person I’m in charge of is you,” Mobius says. Loki glares.

“I’m always ten steps ahead of you all. Surely you know that,” he says, but it’s non-committal. Mobius can tell.

“Yep. You’ve said before, handsome. This is all part of your plan.” Mobius looks to Loki for his next retort, but Loki doesn’t say anything. He stares at Mobius with an unreadable look on his face, and Mobius realizes his slip up. Handsome.

“Hey, don’t let my crackers go to waste. They’re hard to get a hold of around here, you know,” Mobius says, and Loki seems to move.

They stay like that for awhile, Loki sitting as Mobius watches over him. Mobius is just getting comfortable again when Loki gets up.

“It’s been great, but we probably should be heading back now,” he says, walking towards the door. “Wouldn’t want the timekeepers finding out about this, would we?”

Mobius stops him, carefully telling him to wait. Loki does, back facing him.

“I can tell you’re tired, Loki. I get it. You got here just after a war,” Loki tenses, just barely, at the mention of New York. Mobius talks faster to smooth it over. “I think you can take a day off. Better for me anyway. I don’t want to be sticking my neck out for someone who isn’t even helping all that much.” Mobius puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder.

He’s always shocked by the amount of muscle he can feel through the material of Loki’s shirt. Loki seems so lean, but whenever Mobius touches him, he can feel how solid the other man is. He likes it. It’s soothing.

Loki turns around, looking suspicious. Mobius doesn’t blame Loki, but he does almost feel guilty.

Almost.

“You can sleep here. Not just today. I’m sure the cot they have you sleeping in hardly compares to whatever you had on Asgard,” Mobius steps away, letting Loki go and waving his hand. “My couch doesn’t either, but it’s an upgrade for sure. Living room is all yours, buddy.”

“Where are you going?” Loki asks. Mobius looks at him.

“To my room. I’m tired too,” he says. Loki blinks.

“Won’t someone notice I’m not where I’m supposed to be?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Mobius says dismissively, even though he has no idea how he’s going to pull this off.

He’s practically made Loki a promise at this point. He’ll figure out how to make it all okay somehow.

It’s driving Loki insane.

Before, he could keep it all in because he was scared that Mobius wouldn’t want it. Wouldn’t want him. But now, there are moments that Loki doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Mobius might push him away, give him that disapproving look if it meant Loki could just…

Kiss him.

Loki scoffs at himself. He didn’t even get this caught up in the thought of a kiss as a boy. It was pathetic to feel like this in adulthood.

What’s even worse is the thought that maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. He can recall watching Thor on Earth as he followed around Jane Foster, losing every bit of charm that kept him so popular on Asgard. At the time, Loki didn’t understand it.

But now he does.

Everything is so high stakes for him - Loki is doomed if he doesn’t do as the TVA wants, and he would have been doomed had he just stayed on Earth like he was supposed to. But he barely even pays attention to those things.

Every waking moment is about Mobius. How he looks in the morning before he showers, hair tousled as he digs around in the fridge. The way his face lights up when he and Loki almost find the variant, and then the inevitable disappointment when they don’t. How every night, without fail, he tells Loki goodnight as the god falls asleep on his couch.

Loki is starting to think there is something here. Because he’s paranoid, but not stupid. Mobius wouldn’t be letting Loki get this close if he thought the same way as when they first met.

They enjoy each other. Mobius likes to lead, to rebel in the way he’s been given permission to. And Loki is realizing he doesn’t mind following a man like Mobius.

Of course, the TVA isn’t so bad either.

The organization itself, Loki hates. He’s never met the timekeepers, but they sound like kings. That was a group Loki never got along with.

But the buildings, the center, was growing on him. Even if he wasn’t allowed access to most of the materials, Loki likes the library. He enjoys staying deep in the bookshelves, and bringing a stack out to drop right on the book Mobius is reading. Loki likes the elevators, which seemed to be the few minutes he could simply stand in silence and rest. He likes Casey too, though he tends to leave the poor, sad man alone now.

Most of all, Loki likes the long hallways that rarely had anyone but him and Mobius. They feel private without being stifling. Sometimes, when the two go back to Mobius’s apartment too early, Loki feels sick. Like it physically hurts to be so close to having what he wants.

“That brown suit is hideous, you know.” Loki tells Mobius as they’re both getting ready. Mobius scowls at Loki.

“It’s uniform. You know, if everything works out, you might get one just like it,” Mobius retorts. Loki scoffs. “Alright then, mr. prince. What would you have me in?”

Loki stops, his eyes trailing over Mobius as he thinks about the question. Loki smirks, turning around as he grabs his belt.

“Anything else. You always look so uptight. No one here knows how to let loose a bit.”

“I’m uptight. That’s a good one,” Mobius says. He’s standing by the door, wanting to leave. “Could you hurry up and put your pants on? We’re late.”

All Loki is doing is tucking his shirt in, but he thinks he can feel Mobius looking. It’s in a way that doesn’t seem strictly observational.

The nightmares, of course, are an issue.

Loki hasn’t shared a room since he and Thor were children, so no one knows about the night terrors he gets. Maybe Mobius does, having had a glance at a few as he watched Loki’s life play out on the screen. But Loki doesn’t think so, because Mobius has never said anything.

But of course, Loki has to ruin that. He wakes up with a shout that echoes off the walls. He slaps a hand over his mouth, then pulls it away, sticky with sweat. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose when Mobius bursts into the living room, slamming his hand over the light switch to turn it on.

“I’m sorry,” Loki says immediately, squinting at the brightness. “I didn’t mean to be so loud. I know you would get in trouble if someone were to find me here.”

“You.. I’d…” Mobius blinks, still half asleep and trying to figure out what’s happening. “Loki, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Go back to bed, Mobius.” Loki leans more into his palm, cursing himself for letting this happen. If Mobius knows Loki like he claims to, he should just go.

Mobius stays in the doorway, and Loki can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Mobius sighs.

“Look, I’m not gonna ask you what it was, but… why don’t you sleep in here for tonight?” He gestures behind him, presumably towards his bed. Loki raises his head, looking at the other man.

Mobius looks sincere - painfully so. It seems like he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he should do, but he also looks like he just wants Loki to listen.

Loki gets up, folding the blanket on the couch before he follows Mobius. Loki crawls into the bed after the other man, staying as far away as possible. He expects Mobius to say something else, but he doesn’t. Mobius just sighs and yanks the blanket towards him.

Loki wakes up feeling amazing.

He feels rested, warm and heavy as he stirs. The room smells like sleep, and Loki can’t help but raise his arms above his head and stretch. That’s when he feels something on his chest. Loki opens his eyes, peering down. Mobius’s arm is slung over him, the other man still asleep.

Loki doesn’t move, trying to figure out how asleep Mobius still is. He wonders if they can stay like this for a few more minutes.

He doesn’t take the chance. Loki gets up, quietly leaving so he can take a shower in the bathroom where his toothbrush sits next to Mobius’s.

Mobius doesn’t like this shift in his feelings.

He liked thinking Loki was all bravado with no depth. It was easy to separate everything that way. What was work, and what wasn’t. What mattered and didn’t.

What was ethical or not.

Being around Loki so much was making Mobius like him. Even worse, care. He started to dread rewatching certain scenes from his life to look for clues that might tell him where other Lokis are, because Mobius can see the effects of it all now. They’re playing out in front of him, sleeping on his living room couch.

When Loki wakes up from whatever he was dreaming about, Mobius feels sick. He doesn’t even think about the fact Loki’s cry is loud enough to get caught - literally does not even occur to him. His only thought is, what now? What could possibly catch up to you here?

After Loki lays down in his bed (which was easier to get him to do than Mobius thought), Mobius listens for his breathing to even out. Then he reaches over, resting his arm on Loki’s chest. Mobius falls asleep making sure Loki is still breathing.

Mobius notices the way Loki looks at him. The realization makes Mobius think about the two of them. What it would mean.

It hasn’t even occurred to him to look at Loki like that, not seriously. Loki is an asset, so Mobius built up a ton of walls for the sake of professionalism. You know, for his job. Mobius is aware of Loki’s attractiveness because he has to be. It’s part of the reason all these Lokis get away with so much.

But after that night Mobius begins to look at Loki because he can. And then he realizes he’s been doing that all along.

“You know,” Mobius tells Loki the next afternoon. They’re in the cafeteria, and Loki is eating everything in his salad but the cherry tomatoes. “It might be better if you stay with me again tonight. Like you said, we wouldn’t want any of my neighbors to pick up on anything.” Loki raises an eyebrow, carefully setting his fork down. Mobius clears his throat.

“No need to be embarrassed, partner. I’m told I have a soothing presence.”

“I absolutely would not say that,” Loki says. “But… if you insist. After all,” Loki’s eyes glint. “You’re in charge.”

Mobius doesn’t know what to say to that, and drinks a cup of water in just one gulp.

And they settle into it. Loki doesn’t sneak out of Mobius’s arms, in fact, he actively seeks them out. Only once everything is quiet and the lights are out, but still. Loki tucks his head under Mobius’s chin, Mobius wraps his arms around Loki’s torso, and they both like it. A lot.

They don’t mention it ever, but it doesn’t seem like something they aren’t allowed to talk about. It’s just part of the routine. Shower, study, search, eat, get in bed. It’s nice.

At some point, Loki realizes this is the longest he’s stayed in one place for a very long time.

Just like Loki thought, he’s the first to do it.

They’re in the elevator, and it’s taking a particularly long time, and Mobius decided to stand closer than he needed to and Loki just… kisses him.

The best part is, Mobius doesn’t even seem surprised. He opens his mouth when Loki bites down on his lip, and he holds on to the lapels of Loki’s jacket and Loki cradles his face. Everything is so familiar, so natural, and Loki can’t help but smile against Mobius’s stupid mustache.

And then Loki pulls away. Mobius doesn’t say anything, but he gives Loki a sad smile. Loki feels his blood run cold.

“What?” He asks, and suddenly, he feels like a child. Like Mobius knows something he doesn’t, and now Loki is going to be chastised.

“Nothing,” Mobius says, but that’s obviously not true. He sighs. “It’s just… that can't happen again.”

Loki stares at Mobius. “Why?” He demands. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Mobius says. His hands are resting on Loki’s waist, but he slides one over Loki's stomach. Mobius’s fingers find their way through the holes that the buttons of Loki’s shirt leave. The feeling of Mobius’s fingers on Loki’s bare skin make Loki dizzy, and confused.

“Then why can’t we do it again?” He asks, wanting to rip Mobius’s hand off of him, but unable to bring himself to. Mobius grimaces.

“Loki... Isn’t what we got goin’ enough?” Loki is cool under Mobius’s fingers. No more than anyone else though, even with his frost giant heritage. “C’mon, Loki,” when Mobius glances at Loki, then immediately looks away. The sight of Loki’s disorientated face, combined with his mouth slightly ajar… it’s too much. “You know if it goes any further one of us will screw up. I’ll even say it’ll be me. But someone would notice. It’d be impossible for them not to.”

“But… you’re the one who started this,” Loki protests, and he’s right, because Mobius is the one who brought him into this whole mess. The TVA, his apartment, his bedroom. It’s all been Mobius. Loki never asked for any of that.

“I know,” Mobius says, and he sounds like he’s sorry. “Listen, I know. I’m sorry. We can’t have it all, but if we keep going the way we have, we can still have some.”

Loki steps away, and Mobius’s face falls. He looks more angry than sad.

“I think I’d like to go back to my cell now.” Loki says.

Loki doesn’t actually go back to his cell. But he does sleep on the couch again, and refuses to touch the Goldfish Mobius leaves out.

Mobius feels like a dick, but he’s also sort of pissed. He’s not happy about this either, and if Loki wasn’t always so selfish, he would see that Mobius also isn’t prancing around in happiness.

“I’m not like you,” Mobius tells Loki the next morning. “Look, I can’t just… rebel. It’s not a luxury I’ve been afforded.”

“I’m glad that after seeing my entire life and death, you’ve settled on the word ‘luxury’ to describe it,” Loki responds angrily, and Mobius just backs off. He knows he won’t get anywhere with Loki, not like this.

Watching Loki close himself off is… exactly what Mobius would have thought it would be.

It’s exactly the same as when Loki arrived at the TVA, he’s just less defensive. Loki is just as mad at everyone else, but with Mobius, Loki doesn’t even give him a reaction. He does exactly what’s asked of him, no more and no less.

Mobius misses him.

Loki is just across the table, but Mobius misses their rapport. He wants to tease the god again, hassle him as they make their way to the cafeteria. Mobius wants to listen to Loki talk about Asgard, tell him all the little details that can’t be picked up on a screen. He wants his friend back.

And now Mobius isn’t sleeping, either. He grew used to Loki’s head resting on his chest, the feeling of his hip in his hand. Mobius thinks about the skin of Loki’s stomach, how everything in the elevator felt.

It was like Mobius lit up. He felt alive again, with free will and all.

But of course, Mobius doesn’t have free will. If he did, he’d pull Loki into the elevator himself, and show Loki just how much wanted this too.

It hurts because Loki knows Mobius wants this.

It’s almost worse than if he didn’t - because Mobius liking, wanting, and maybe even needing Loki back, it makes him like everything else in Loki’s life. Loki is so close, he can reach it, even hold it in the palm of his hand. A life with Mobius, at least for the time being, would be exactly as it was before the argument, except more so. Just a bit more.

Loki can’t take it. He feels like he’s going to vomit every second of the day, because his life is a vicious cycle and coming so far just to be thrown away. He takes long showers now, the stream of water being the only thing that can drown out his thoughts. Loki almost doesn’t see Mobius as he steps out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

“Loki,” the other man says, and his tone is so grave that Loki stops.

“Mobius,” he responds. “Do you need something?”

“I… I wanted to apologize,” Mobius takes a step forward. “For what I said.”

Loki tilts his head. “For which part? I recall quite a few things.” A look of exasperation passes over Mobius’s face. Loki hates to admit it, but the look is relieving. It makes everything seem less serious than it is.

“What I said about not being like you,” Mobius explains. “Look, I know you’ve felt alone your whole life. And the way I said that, I don’t feel good about it. I’m sorry.”

Loki blinks, then throws his towel in the hamper.

“It’s fine,” he says. Mobius shakes his head, stepping even closer, and Loki raises his eyes.

“No, Loki, it’s not,” Mobius reaches up, running his fingers through Loki’s damp hair. “I lied,” he murmurs. “I lied to the God of Lies. I am like you, Loki. I’m your kind. I know Lokis, so I know who you would have been. But this you?” Mobius places his hands over Loki’s hips and pushes, pressing Loki’s back against the wall. “I’m still getting to know who you are now. And I like you, Loki. I really do.” Mobius stares at Loki expectantly. Loki swallows, resting his hands on Mobius’s shoulders. Mobius is softer than Loki is, and it makes Loki’s mouth water. From here, Loki can see every wrinkle and gray hair that Mobius has. He’s painfully human. Loki closes his eyes, leaning forward to press his lips against Mobius’s temple.

“Do you mean it?” He asks. “Will it stick? Are you going to call it all off?” At this angle, Mobius can reach Loki’s neck, and he begins to suck on the delicate skin there. Loki lets out a moan.

“I can’t promise we’re gonna get married and be together forever,” Mobius teases Loki lightly. He runs his tongue over Loki’s Adam’s Apple. “But I’m not gonna stop just because of the TVA. You.. you’re worth more than that.” Mobius slides his palms under Loki’s shirt and up his back, and Loki melts into him. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Loki says, because that’s all there is to say. He trusts Mobius, Loki realizes. He wholeheartedly does.

“Loki,” Mobius says, exhaling. “Can I touch you? Do you want me to touch you?”

Loki straightens, catching Mobius’s eye.

“Yes.”

#also as you all know i hated the show so if some details are off. good <3 #lmao i called casey randall bc i thought that was his name #anyway #loki #loki laufeyson #mobius #mobius m. mobius #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson x mobius #loki laufeyson x mobius m. mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #loki 2021 #loki (2021)#loki series

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

35. Every inch of you

Prompt used- kissing their bruises and scars| implied smut | angst | dedicated to @irrelevantdrarry and @riana-drarry and @weirdvibeskid for bringing a smile upon my face.

" one night, Draco that's all I asked! Molly worked soo hard on the dinner, the entire Weasley family was nothing but nice to you even though they've practically hated you and you didn't even have a little courtesy to say thank you for the dinner. You know what Molly said it to me, I'm sorry harry if you both felt like we intruded into your little world because Draco didn't seem to enjoy it, what was all that about ? I thought you wanted to know the people who practically raised me " Harry snapped as soon as they entered the flat

" who said otherwise that I wasn't nice to them ?" Draco rolled his eyes storming into the bedroom

" oh I don't know, maybe the fact that you didn't laugh at even a single joke Arthur said, or the fact that you didn't appreciate Molly's cooking or the fact that you didn't even offer any of them even a single smile !" Harry exclaimed following him into the bedroom

" I was nice-"

" oh yeah, I'm sure not offering a smile is not being nice. They're my family Draco, the least you could do is say thank you-"

" and I did say thank you when you weren't around "

" you did? Then how come Molly asked me if you didn't enjoy the dinner or something ?" Harry threw his hands in the air aggressively

" I don't know, maybe one thank you wasn't enough-"

" what ? You're actually blaming-"

" I didn't mean it " Draco sighed collapsing over the bed

" you better not because you can insult me for once but not them. They're my everything, they mean much more to me than anything else. I'm not mad at you Draco, I'm just upset that you didn't made them feel welcome "

" well what do you want me to do? Hang a bloody welcome sign over my neck ?" This time Draco threw his hand in the air aggressively

" I- you know what- I can't have this conversation-"

" you're not walking out " Draco interjected locking the door with a spell

" oh so now I can't walk out because my beloved boyfriend doesn't want to tell me what was the actual reason he was being an arse ?" Harry crossed his arms in front of his torso, watching Draco tentatively.

" I was never an arse harry- "

" you were and don't even try to deny that. What happened to you when you reached there? You were so excited to meet everyone, nervous even but as soon as you step in and they welcome you, it seemed as if you didn't want to be there ?" Harry asked timidly.

" Because I didn't belong there harry, I never will. I was excited to meet everyone but the moment I step in I realised that those can never actually love me-"

" but they do!! " Harey exclaimed enclosing the distance between them

" no harry. Nobody does, I'm a death Eater remember. They might forgive me but they will never forget that I am and will Always be tainted by this unfortunate scar that defines my entire life " draco snapped standing up, facing harry.

Harry's face immediately etched into confusion " no they don't draco. I've grown up with them, I know they would never feel that way about you "

" what If they do? You don't know that harry"

" yes, yes I do and they do not think of you that way. If I can move on and love you, then so can everyone"

" but that's the problem harry, I don't deserve you. You love me and that is the biggest problem of them all, you're in love with death Eater, how can you possibly love me ?" Draco's voice broke

Harry stood there in silence, contemplating how the visit to his so called family have erupted a volcano of thoughts of how draco didn't deserve him. It has been 2 months since they got together and somewhere harry Always knew that draco felt that way about himself, that he was too good for him but it was far from truth. He didn't care if he was too good for himself or if he himself was too good for draco, he cared more about how draco understood him more on the nights when harry had no one, he cared more about completing his bucket list with the only person who had managed to bring up a smile upon his face when no one else could, he cared more about how draco loved him like he was the only person in the world and that was more than enough for harry.

Harry extinguished the distance between him and draco and slowly by looking in draco's eyes, uncuffed his sleeves.

" what- what are you doing harry ?" Draco nervously asked

" doing exactly what I should do " harry didn't put a single moment in vain in bringing draco's left arm to his lips and kissing his dark mark

" harry -" draco's eyes reflected the light glare coming from the window, a glint of surprise and sadness in them

" I love you nonetheless of who you were, who are you and who you're going to be. I've made my decision and I don't give a tiny rats ass about how you don't deserve me. I think I can make my decision of who deserve me or not and I've made my decision, to stay, forever " harry poured into the grey orb of draco's eyes, looking for any sign of argument he might bring upon and when he didn't, he pressed his lips against that of draco's..

" why do you love me so much ?" Draco breathed In between the kiss

" because if I could take one person to that cupboard under the stairs where I lived, I'd take you out of everyone to vanish all of those bad memories and create new ones " harry replied mumbling against his lips. Draco stopped for a moment, a tear dropping from his eyes onto his cheeks, his forehead pressed against harry's.

" I love you " was the only thing Draco could muster up to say.

" I know " and harry kissed Draco more firmly now. From the sweet kisses they had shared in the past, their kiss had taken a road which became more messy, more tongue and more lust. Without thinking twice, draco bought Harry's hand to the Button's of his shirt. Getting the hint harry unbuttons draco's shirt and let his gracefully fall behind.

" are you sure ?" Harry breathed

" I am. Are you ?"

" yes, I am " and Harry's hand roamed the bear soft chest of Draco's, tracing the lines of scars and bruises from the war but more beautifully as if he was touching a mural art over a canvas. Draco himself didn't waste time in unbuckling Harry's belt and letting it drop to the ground.

" this changes everything " harry mumbled again

" and I want It to " and with that harry didn't ask further and simply, more rapidly unbuckled draco's pants and pushing it down his legs. Realising they had been standing for Long, harry softly pushed draco onto the bed behind, letting him have a heavenly fall before him. And as beautiful as it was to see Draco sprawled on the bed with just his boxers, Draco didn't have that. He pulled harry the waist of his pants, letting him collapse over him.

" you've got absolutely no idea, how bloody perfect you are" harry mumbled as draco pushes Harry's pants down his legs.

" I love you " draco moans as harry harshly pressed his lips against draco's neck, kissing softly all over to find his sweet spot.

" I love you " harry hummed as he licked a stripe over his neck. In a sweet saviouring moment, he was desperate to hear the sound of draco moaning again so he started sucking softly over his neck to find that one sweet spot and just when Draco erupted a moan more loudly than before, harry attacked that spot more, only to hear him moaning over and over again. The moans leaving draco's soft lips were sending sparks all over his body, flaming a sudden urge in him to pin draco to bed and want to do absolute sinful things to his body until he's withering.

" fuck " draco moaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, shooting flames inside Harry's right to his bottom. Sucking more painfully erotically, draco put his hand into Harry's hair as an unknown reflex and grasped them to find an unknown leverage but it resulted in Harry violently moaning against draco's neck.

" fuck- harry- just- need you " draco moaned as he bought Harry's face to his lips for a sloppy, haste and Messy kiss. He swiftly but hastily unbuttoned Harry's shirt and threw it somewhere in the room, leaving them both in boxers and briefs.

" I love you " harry mumbled as he started pressing soft kisses down his neck until in a glimpse he noticed a mark on draco's chin.

" Where did you get it from ?" Harry asked as he supported himself by his elbow to watch draco from a distance.

" Accidental magic. I think i was 10, i accidentally picked up a shirt from the ground but somehow it tangled on my leg and i fell over the side of the bed " draco told, harry looked at the mark before he bowed down a little and kissed the scar.

" what was that for ?" Draco asked smiling

" To remind you I love you nonetheless your scars or bruises " and with that harry kissed draco's finger, knowing he had accidentally got a paper cut a few days ago, then placed a soft kiss over the top of his head from a bruise he got yesterday when he hit the door too hard..

" This is to remind me of how much I hate myself for doing this to you "

" I forgave you a long time ago " draco reassured

" I know" and harry softly kissed against draco's sectum semptra scars, his eyes moistening up at the memory.

" Hey, look at me. It happened a long time ago. It's fine " draco cupped Harry's face, making him look into his eyes. And Harry nodded.

Draco kissed softly over Harry's nose " this is for kicking you in the face in 6th year, I didn't like doing it but shit was it good "

Harry chuckled, leaning down to kiss his lips..

" I want to kiss you " draco mumbled

" You are "

" No I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to kiss every part of your body because it has been through so much. I want to kiss all of it away to put new memories " draco softly. Harry looked at him in awe, not believing he has actually said something like that. Struck in unknown saddening surprise Harry leaned into draco neck and let his feelings create little sobs.

" It's alright harry, it's alright " draco mumbled as he softly brushed Harry's hair.

" I want to kiss you too, every inch of you "

" Then lets do it " draco smiled and incadascently they briskly fell into the intimacy of taking away a part of one another tainted with painful memories, replacing them with love and creating hocruxes in every inch so a part of their souls lived forever in another.

Requests open | masterlist to all prompts now available

Sorry for the delay, I'm traveling so it would hard for me too keep up but I am very thankful for all the sweet responses in the past few days, it helps me to keep going.

Day 34- bath with me | Day 36 - angel

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awanderingtortoise · 3 years

Text

a/n: first of all, i would like to thank my genius brain for answering the ask this stemmed from privately, therefore losing all access to it and anything i typed in reply. i would also like to thank google docs for housing the backup copy of this fic, ensuring my panic lasted only half the time it could have. finally (and the only serious thing here) ty to @nabrizoya for giving this idea during my 'i cant write banter only dad jokes help' panic, i loved it and wrote far more on it than i expected.

laughter in the rain

ao3

word count: 2.1k of pure fluff and crack

blurb: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything.

(from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya's students and them finding nikolai's dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them)

----

Zoya knew she was in for it when she agreed to teach Damyen to summon lightning. Possible consequences listed themselves in her head without regard for her anxiety: Getting half her hair burned off. An emergency fire drill, minus the drill, at the Little Palace. Possibly a few roasted pigeons falling from the sky. The ten-year old Squaller was undeniably one of her most gifted students, possessing a striking talent for both the Small Science and utter chaos. Unsurprising, really, considering the child both worshiped Nikolai and had a disposition remarkably close to the latter’s. Zoya’s rant on the young Grisha amused him to no end.

“A miniature me,” Nikolai mused, glancing thoughtfully at Zoya as he sat on the edge of their bed. “And shaping up to be quite the handful.”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled, brushing out a stubborn tangle in her hair, eyes still bleary from her slumber or lack thereof. She’d slept terribly and dreamt her kefta had been on fire. Though she was never much for fortune-tellers or prophetic hogwash, she had an inkling this particular dream would soon be reality. “You could be brothers with how much you have in common. Insubordinate. Endless chatter. Utterly chaotic.”

“Handsome?” Nikolai suggested, inspecting his boots before putting them on. “Charismatic and startlingly intelligent? Really, my dear; you don’t have to be quite so negative.”

“I’m likely about to be set on fire. I have every right to be negative.”

“Now, now,” He said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be a very- enlightening experience.”

Zoya froze mid-brush stroke, turning to give him a withering glare. “Nikolai,” she hissed.

He grinned. “Yes?”

“We have talked about this.”

“Have we?”

“No more puns,” Zoya ordered. For every joke Nikolai in his love for infuriating humor could crack, these were the worst. The only people in the palace that found them amusing were Tolya and Nikolai himself. Which meant, of course, that Tolya was the only one Nikolai didn’t subject to this banal torture.

“Why?” Nikolai whined. “I find them rather electrifying, don’t you?”

She slammed her brush onto the table and stalked towards him, seizing his wrist. “I will blow you out the window. I will tie you to a tree and let Damyen use you for target practice.”

“From the sound of him, he wouldn’t dare. He loves me.”

“He’s also remarkably similar to you and has every ounce of your taste for drama. He might, and if he doesn’t you have my word that I will do it myself.” Zoya let her eyes flash silver, static crackling in the air.

“Alright,” Nikolai sighed, unperturbed by the display. “Fine. I concede. It’s but a trifle. A storm in a teacup, if you w- ow !”

She had sent a small shock through his arm, and now scoffed at the reaction to her handiwork. “Consider this a warning,” she sniffed, before turning to leave the room. “I have a Squaller to teach.”

“Storming off, are we- ow- ”

Only once the door was safely slammed behind her did she let her frown shift, lips quirking upwards. “Damnable idiot,” she muttered, smile clear in her voice.

“You love me for it,” Nikolai called from inside the room.

Zoya scowled. She’d need to have the walls thickened.

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

To Zoya’s right, a flock of very terrified and slightly singed geese squawked and took to the skies. Their nest lay in a steaming pile of ash. She raised a single eyebrow at her pupil. “Damyen, this is-”

“Awesome!” He cackled, gathering the ash in his hands and tossing it in the air like confetti. The flakes drifted down, settling in Zoya’s hair and eyelashes.

“I was going to say dismal. I do not recall asking you to set birds on fire. Your aim is terrible.”

“But I shot lighting!” He stared at his fingertips with such utter reverence for himself that Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“If you want to shoot lighting without setting your friends alight, I’d suggest you learn to hit your mark,” She said as sternly as possible. He’d picked up on the skill remarkably quickly, in all honesty, and the currents he summoned were more than good for a start. She was impressed, but her approval would only be gained with sufficient effort. And after more than a few sharp comments. “You aim worse than a blind mole rat. Again.”

Damyen sighed but brought his hands together once more, brow knitting in concentration as lightning began to form in his palm. Strands of his bronze hair fell onto his face and he squinted through them at the target. Adjusted his hands. Squinted again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zoya muttered. “Perhaps you’re waiting for the Saints to come riding down on a shiny chariot?”

He snorted, apparently genuinely amused, then let the bolt fly. At the same moment, a golden-haired figure strolled into the lightning’s path.

Zoya shrieked, hurtling a gust of wind towards Nikolai and blowing him to the ground. The streak of electricity slammed perfectly into the target’s center, setting the whole thing aflame. Damyen whooped, throwing up his hands and sending wind blowing every which way; scattering leaves into the air as Nikolai groaned and swore from his spot in the grass.

“Hello,” He said weakly. “Atmosphere’s rather charged around here, don’t you think?”

She huffed and pulled him to his feet, glaring daggers.

“No shocks,” Nikolai noted.

“I may change my mind. Care to explain yourself, Lantsov? In the habit of trying to kill yourself?”

“I hardly need to try. I’m a magnet for life threatening situations. Though I’ll admit that today it was a personal decision.” He beamed, spreading his hands. “I simply wanted to help you make good on your threat.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Has something come up with the Fjerdans? Did the Kerch renegotiate the trade-”

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya,” Nikolai sighed, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount for this fickle country. Answer the question, or I truly will have him target you.”

“Is it so hard to believe I came here only to see you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me. But if you must know, I thought I could be of some assistance.”

“As target practice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had quite enough of that. As a mentor. As a bribe, perhaps; for your little firecracker over there.” He glanced at Damyen, still stripping trees of their hard-earned leaves and seemingly unaware that he’d nearly killed his beloved idol. “You seemed like you could use some help.”

She raised her chin disdainfully. “I am perfectly capable of wrangling the little-”

A loud crack sounded and the sky darkened rapidly, clouds swarming over their heads as rain began to pour furiously in a matter of seconds. A few meters away, a bright flash enveloped a tree, sending the trunk bursting into flames.

“Damyen!” Zoya screeched.

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and grinning in a mix of elation and fear. “I made a storm, Your Highness!”

“Congratulations. Now do you mind stopping before you kill us all?”

“But I-” His eyes found Nikolai and realization set in as he beamed and the rain poured even harder. “Your Highness- es !”

Another boom, and a second, larger tree was wreathed in electricity and fire. It groaned, wobbling dangerously before crashing to the ground.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, squinting against the pouring rain. “That,” he started. “Was a centuries-old sacred cypress planted by the first Lantsov kings. Now firewood. Impressive.”

Damyen’s chest puffed with pride.

“You can fawn over each other later,” Zoya snapped. “Damyen, enough with the storm. Turn it off before you start a forest fire.”

He grinned sheepishly. “How?”

She muttered obscenities, raising her hands and dispelling the clouds with a flick of her wrists. The sky cleared, small patches of pouring rain left to quell the still-burning trees as Nikolai whistled appreciatively, clapping; and Damyen gave a small bow. Saints, these two would be the death of her.

“So,” Nikolai said, soft enough that Damyen couldn’t hear. “Changed your mind?”

She sighed. “Fine. Make your attempt. You’ve always loved trying your hand at the impossible.”

“Improbable,” he corrected, then strolled over to Damyen, running a hand through the golden strands plastered to his forehead. Soaking wet and almost cooked alive, and he still looked every bit the regal prince; she thought, a grudging, now-familiar fondness rushing through her like a horrible, tooth-rotting sweet. She scowled.

“Lovely morning,” The prince greeted. Damyen bent over in a hasty bow, but Nikolai waved his hand. “No need. Are you the wonderfully gifted Squaller her Highness speaks of so highly?”

Zoya snorted, but Damyen’s eyes practically doubled in size. “She does?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “You’re quite talented, I hear.” He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Just between the two of us,” muttered Nikolai, very much loud enough for Zoya to be able to hear. “I think you remind her of herself, when she was your age.”

She opened her mouth; ‘What utter bullshit,’ already on the tip of her tongue but Nikolai raised a gloved finger, eyes twinkling. With much effort, she clamped her mouth shut.

Damyen seemed he might faint on the spot. Nikolai went on. “Really, there’s quite a lot you two have in common. Powerful. Willful. In possession of a rather strong attachment to me.”

The young Grisha was eating up his words. Zoya wanted to strangle the both of them.

Nikolai took a seat on a faintly smoking tree stump. “You seem to have quite a lot going on for you, learning to summon lighting and all. A rather current affair, don’t you think?”

The silence seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then Damyen gave a toothy grin and guffawed far, far louder than that sorry excuse for a joke deserved.

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Nikolai,” she groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

“Zoya, dear; no need to thunder about like that,” Nikolai said soothingly. Damyen bit his cheek in an attempt to control himself, but whatever smidgen of respect he had left for her kept him silent for barely a second before he burst into a fit of giggles.

Zoya threw her arms up in frustration and from the clouds a deep, deafening roar answered her-- how’s that for thundering, you nincompoop-- as the sky flashed once more, bright streaks lacing every cloud in an intricate web. Damyen’s gleeful expression faltered at the sight but Nikolai only grinned wider, patting Damyen on the shoulder before standing and holding a hand out to catch the rain.

“Don’t let her dampen your spirits,” he called sagely over the rumble, and it took a good amount of self control not to smite him on the spot. Nikolai flashed a thumbs-up at the boy before jogging over to the spot where Zoya stood, arms crossed and glaring. He clasped her hand in his, opening his mouth to speak.

“Not one word,” she warned. “Not a single pun or I will have Tolya read you every Ravkan epic in existence while dangling you off the palace roof.”

“No puns,” he promised. “For now. I only ask that perhaps you let the sun shine through-”

“I will not sugarcoat my instructions for whatever reason.”

“The storm, my dear,” he said gently. “Not your teaching methods. We’re nearly soaked through.”

She glanced towards his dripping sleeves and the damp fabric of her own kefta. “Fine,” Zoya muttered grudgingly, raising her free hand to call away the storm and let the clouds fade to fog. “But enough of this foolery. I can’t have Damyen running around being able to summon lightning and having no idea how to wrangle it. He has to learn.”

“And he will. Let me work my magic and I’ll have him perfectly eager to learn to control his.”

“Without the puns.”

“With slightly less puns?” He asked, brow knit together as if the fate of his jokes were a matter of life and death.

Zoya frowned, but Nikolai’s pleading look wore away at her and she sighed. “Slightly less puns.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

“Oh, I will,” she remarked drily. “But perhaps not enough to shock you again if you can manage the walking fire hazard.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed theatrically before turning and running back to Damyen with a ridiculous grin on his face, sunlight gilding his hair and shining in his gaze; his form so full of light that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Nikolai,” she called after him.

He turned, cocking his head. “Nazyalensky? Is everything alright?”

Zoya closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She opened her palm, summoning the smallest thundercloud, letting raindrops pool in her outstretched hand. “Right as rain, Lantsov.”

He laughed, and the sound, golden and unrestrained and bright, was worth every joke she’d ever have to endure.

#zoyalai #i am an idiot #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #horrible puns terrible puns #nikolai duology #grishaverse #tortoise tries to write #me

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

someday, i’ll breathe again

prompted by @mimierose, idea by @theworld-is-out-there. thanks guys, so sorry it took me so long to write! i hope you both like it!

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He lands hard, stars exploding in his vision, the pain in his head masking the sharp sting in his arm.

ao3 | 2.1k | warning for references to needles and past addiction - this is not a relapse fic

The ambulance arrives at the scene just behind the truck, and TK grins when he climbs out, spotting Carlos already deep in conversation with his dad. Nancy hits him as she walks past, any initial reservations she’d had about him joining their team long since forgotten.

“Head out of the bedroom, Strand,” she says, rolling her eyes at his show of offence.

“I’ll have you know my head wasn’t even close to the bedroom,” he protests, following her to the back of the ambulance. It’s not even a lie; he’d actually just been thinking about how much he was looking forward to their movie night later. They haven’t spent much time together properly in a while, shifts rarely lining up, both of them too tired to do much more than sleep when they do.

Becoming a paramedic has meant that some of the danger has gone out of TK’s job, but the workload has increased more than he realised it would. Medical get far more calls than fire in a day, and much as TK loves it, he can’t deny the bone-deep exhaustion at the end of most shifts.

He wouldn’t trade it, though, not for the world.

Nancy sends him a withering look, but she doesn’t get a chance to respond before Tommy’s striding back over to them, having consulted with his dad.

“What are we looking at, Cap?” he asks.

“PD needs some help clearing the building,” she responds. “It’s due to be demolished in a couple of weeks, but there have been some reports of squatters, gangs, local kids, hanging around. They want to make sure everyone’s out, and they want medical on standby just in case. Ordinarily, we’d wait out here, as you know, but Captain Strand and I have agreed that it would be more efficient and useful to have you inside. There might be people in there who don’t have the time to wait to be carried out.”

TK grimaces, hearing Tommy’s implications loud and clear. Her gaze flicks over to him, but she doesn’t comment, and TK tries to pull himself together as she continues laying out the plan.

“We’ll be going in in teams of three - two firefighters, one paramedic. TK, you’re with Judd and Mateo; Nancy, you’re with Marjan and Paul. Captain Strand and I will be waiting out here - keep us updated.”

“Yes, Cap.”

He and Nancy nod, turning to gather supplies into their medical bags. They work silently and efficiently; TK had been surprised by how easy it was to fall into a natural rhythm with his new team, but it feels normal now, like he’s been doing it forever.

Tommy takes his arm before they join the others, pulling him to one side. “You good to do this, Strand?” she asks, voice firm but caring. TK appreciates the thought - he’d told her about his history during his interview in case she wanted to think twice about hiring him - but he knows that he can do this.

He nods, adjusting the strap on his bag. “Yes. I’m good, Cap.”

She smiles. “Good. Now, go, and both of you be safe.”

TK jogs over to the others, arriving just in time to hear Nancy bemoaning him and his distinct lack of driving skill to Marjan.

“That’s so rude, Gillian,” he protests. “I’ll have you know I used to navigate New York traffic and never once got in an accident.”

“And yet you can’t take the ambulance more than five yards without threatening to crash it.”

“I’m surprised he can get it that far,” Judd puts in, which TK thinks is wholly unnecessary. It’s not his fault that the firetruck is totally unmaneuverable, or that the ambulance is only barely better.

He opens his mouth to tell Judd this, but his dad chooses this moment to call them to attention, so he’s forced to settle for a glare directed at the back of Judd’s head.

“You’ll take alternating floors,” Owen tells them. “Judd, Mateo, TK - start on the ground, work your way up through the even numbered levels. Paul, Marjan, Nancy - the same, starting on one and doing the odd floors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Cap.”

“Good.” Owen looks round at them all, eyes seeming to linger on TK for the briefest second longer. “The structure seems stable, but stay alert. We don’t know what you’re gonna find in there, and I’d like to avoid any injuries. Police will be around for back up if you need them. Good luck.”

They spring into action, heading towards the building as a unit, and TK has to admit that he’s missed this. Doing rescues with the team, adrenaline pumping through his veins, never quite sure what’s going to happen from one moment to the next.

He sticks to the back of their little group, letting Judd and Mateo go ahead of him as they sweep the ground floor. There’s no-one there so they move onto the next level, TK’s nose wrinkling as the smell gets worse the higher up they go. They work without speaking, for the most part, though judging by the numerous backward glances Mateo keeps sending him, TK suspects that it won’t last.

Sure enough, as they’re moving from the fourth floor to the sixth - their last but one target - Mateo falls into step with him.

“It’s been weird since you became a paramedic.”

Ahead of them, Judd groans. “Here we go again.”

“What?” Mateo protests. “It has.”

TK looks between them, curious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just weird that you’re not on call with us anymore,” he says, shrugging.

“I am literally on call with you right now, Mateo.”

“Yeah, but not with us,” Mateo sighs. “And it’s not like you’re at every call, and you don’t do rescues, and you ride in the ambulance now. I know that this is what you want to do, and that’s really cool, seriously, but it’s just -”

“Weird,” TK finishes, laughing a little. He nudges Mateo with his shoulder. “I get it. It’s been weird for me, too.”

“Really?” He seems surprised, looking over at TK with wide eyes. TK sends him a wry smile.

“Really,” he says. “But -”

A shout from above grabs their attention, followed by the pounding of feet coming down the stairs towards them. The guy - a squatter, more than likely - freezes when he catches sight of them, but only briefly, before continuing to barrel down to them. TK’s able to shove Mateo out of the way, but the guy forcefully collides with him as he goes past, his momentum knocking TK off balance and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the landing below.

He groans, vision swimming as he attempts to push himself upright. His bag is lying a couple of feet away, contents spilling everywhere, and the thought crosses his mind that Captain Vega’s going to be pissed if he loses anything. He tries to get to his feet to collect it all, but the pounding in his head quickly informs him that’s not happening any time soon.

Judd and Mateo’s faces appear in front of him, their mouths moving but no words coming out. Or… That’s not right. TK focuses as best he can, trying to blink some of the haziness from his mind.

Eventually, their voices reach him, as though underwater. “You with us, brother?” Judd asks, worry evident in his tone.

TK nods, then instantly regrets it as another wave of dizziness washes over him. Hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him up to rest against the wall, and it’s then that he notices a sharp sting in his right arm. He must have cut it on something, which isn’t ideal, given how dirty everything is here.

“Alright,” Judd says, his voice clearer this time. “I’m gonna need you to focus up for me, okay? You’re the paramedic here; you’ve gotta tell us what to do.”

TK huffs a small laugh, closing his eyes and taking a moment to clear the fuzz in his brain. “Definitely have a concussion,” he mutters. “Must have hit my head on the way down.”

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he can feel Judd’s eye roll. “Yeah, no shit. It don’t look too bad, though; you’ve got a bit of a scrape on your cheek, but it seems fine. Hurt anywhere else?”

TK hums, doing a mental check. His entire body aches in some capacity, and he’s probably going to be bruised as hell tomorrow, but his cut is the only other injury he can detect. “Arm,” he says. “Think I cut it on something. Glass, maybe?”

Judd pushes his sleeve up, then sucks in a sharp breath. “Aw, shit, kid,” he murmurs, and TK gets the distinct impression he wasn’t meant to hear that. “Probie, let the captains know? Then go join the others; tell them they’ll have to finish the rest of the building themselves.”

TK frowns, forcing his eyes open. Mateo’s moved too far away for him to hear whatever he’s radioing in, so he turns to Judd instead, panic flaring at the pained look in his eyes. “What? What’s going on?”

Judd hesitates. “That wasn’t, um. That wasn’t glass you landed on, kid.” He shifts, carefully picking something up from the floor, pursing his lips before holding it up for TK to see.

A needle.

All the air feels like it’s sucked out of the room, a band tightening around his chest as his eyes blow wide, fixating on the object in front of him. His heart is racing and his thoughts are scrambled in a way that has nothing to do with the concussion because he just landed on a needle, oh god.

And TK had never been one for any of that stuff, not like some of his friends at the time were, but sober is sober, and he can’t lose that, he can’t, he won’t -

“You haven’t, okay? Just breathe, brother, that’s it. Breathe.”

Judd’s words reach him from far away. TK wants to comply, but his body doesn’t feel like his own, and his shaking fingers scrabble frantically at his uniform collar, the choking sensation only getting worse. A distant noise lets him know that Judd is still talking, and TK tries to latch onto that, leaning into the solid and grounding presence at his side.

Slowly, the panic starts to subside. He still feels on edge, weak and shaky, but he can breathe again, which counts for something.

“Sorry,” he gasps out when he’s able.

Judd’s mouth twists into a grimace. “None of that, now. You okay?”

TK nods, though he doubts it’s very convincing. “I will be,” he amends. “Give me a minute.”

At that moment, Judd’s radio crackles to life. “Ryder, what’s your status?” his dad’s voice says, very carefully professional.

Judd looks over to him. “Think you can stand?”

At TK’s nod, he grasps his radio. “Me and TK are on our way out, Cap,” he reports. “Be with you in a few.”

“Copy that.”

TK groans, taking a shaking breath before planting his hands on the floor, attempting to heave himself upright. He makes it to a half-crouch before his balance gives out, and it’s only Judd’s reflexes that save him from face planting the ground again.

“Jesus, TK,” Judd sighs. “Let me help you.”

His tone leaves no room for argument - not that TK could put up much of a fight at the moment if he tried. He leans his weight on Judd, letting him do most of the work to get them down the stairs and out of the building.

“Sorry for freaking out on you,” he murmurs. “I just…”

“I know, kid,” Judd says softly. “You’re alright, though.”

TK doesn’t say anything, not entirely convinced that Judd is right, but comforted by the sentiment anyway. It’s not until they’re nearing the ground floor that he realises something else, and it’s almost enough to make him want to turn back.

“This is going to be so embarrassing.”

Judd frowns. “What?”

He points between his head and his arm with his good hand. “I’m going to have to go to hospital to get these checked out.” He sighs. “A paramedic needing a ride in his own ambulance. I’m never going to live this down.”

Judd laughs, long and loud, and it’s enough to make a smile tug at TK’s own lips. “You’re something else, kid,” he says, gently ruffling TK’s hair.

TK grumbles and bats him away, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s never been more thankful for Judd, truth be told, and he knows he can trust him to understand. And as they head outside, TK starts to believe that maybe Judd was right after all.

They’ll be alright, in the end.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #lone star #911ls #tk strand #judd ryder #mateo chavez #nancy gillian #tommy vega #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #tuserjamie #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjenny #reyeslonestartag

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iamakiller · 3 years

Text

the anatomy of a killer (5/7)

This isn’t about me, it’s about you.

How I made you ...

The great Greek storytellers lied, when they told the tale of Hades and Persephone.

It is true that Persephone was a child of the springtime. Everywhere she went, flowers bloomed, harvests thrived, and people rejoiced.

But in her heart, she longed for winter.

And Hades?

He longed for something he couldn’t even begin to describe ...

The long, sun-drenched days of summer have finally come to an end. The lush, verdant leaves on the trees that line the avenues of the city have grown dry, withering to dust even as they transform to vivid shades of gold, orange and brown.

Autumn has arrived, and winter is just around the corner.

I can smell it in the evening air. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.

The nights are turning so bitterly cold now.

But together, we are warm.

Persephone had grown weary of late, but nobody else seemed to notice. They cared only for matters which were light-hearted and easy to comprehend.

Her friends sang and danced in the fields as gaily as ever, so Persephone tried to ignore her dry throat and leaden limbs to join them, because she had never done anything else.

But the glib lyrics tasted like bile in her mouth, her once-radiant smile felt like it had been painted on, and poor Persephone suffered in silence as everyone around her made merry.

But someone noticed …

The world around us is shriveling, dying.

But you, my love?

You have begun to bloom.

As the shadows encroach, and the days grow colder, I have been tending you with great care. Soon, you will reach your full potential. Soon, your true beauty will be unveiled. And I, your humble gardener, will be there to appreciate you in all your glory.

When I beckon, you come to me.

With a gentle sigh, you sink down onto me. Your walls twitch and flutter around me for a moment, and then all is still.

Softly, gently, in perfect unison …

We breathe together.

The world is so quiet. It feels so peaceful, when I’m with you.

Persephone didn’t even think to ask her friends to come with her, when she walked into the field of flowers she had never seen before. Somehow, she knew that she must go alone.

But did she know what she was doing when she grasped the stem of the biggest, brightest flower?

If she did, perhaps she simply dreaded the unknown far less than her current, miserable existence.

Regardless, as she began to pull up the flower, she smiled her first real smile in a hundred years.

My sharp edges have become blurred, but not softened. I can no longer recognize where I end, and you begin. Our bodies are joined, and our hearts beat as one. I understand your mind, because you think just as I do. I know your soul, because it is the same as mine, isn’t it?

And I have wanted ...

I have wanted ....

I want you to know me.

I want to show you ...

Slowly, I reach for the blade where it rests atop the nightstand, and place it in your hand.

When the earth began to split, and Persephone saw what was inside, she didn’t make a sound, or try to run away.

Instead, she stared into the darkness, and the darkness stared back at her. Persephone felt seen for the first time in her life, and she smiled once more.

When Hades held out his hand, she took it. Gladly.

The blade feels right in your palm, doesn’t it?

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Do you see how it seems to glow in the lamplight, as if lit from within by the stories it remembers? It contains multitudes, just like me. It is filled with pain … pleasure … history … potential.

My love, I see your potential. From almost the first moment I met you, I knew what you could become, if only you knew what I knew.

I want you to know.

I want you to know me.

The flame within you has guttered for so long. You have struggled for so long, and my heart aches for you, as it aches for myself ...

My love, I want to ignite that flame, and watch it rise.

I want to see you burn like me.

“Hold the blade to my throat,” I tell you.

Without a moment of hesitation, you obey.

Hades’ hand wasn’t warm like the sunshine Persephone knew so well. Instead, it was hot like the surface of the sun. But it didn’t hurt her, because Hades did not want it to. Somehow Persephone understood that fact, even though he had not yet spoken a single word to her.

Stern, silent Hades led her down, down, down into the darkness.

Persephone had never been so far from home before, but she was not afraid.

You feel it, don’t you?

My pulse beating against the point of the blade. The blood, coursing through my veins. My life, balanced on a knife edge.

It’s like a drug, isn’t it? Intoxicating. Exhilarating.

The flame inside you has stopped guttering, hasn’t it? Instead, it is beginning to grow. Brighter, hotter ...

You are going to burn so beautifully, my love.

I feel myself harden inside you. Your eyelids flutter closed, but only for a split second When you open them again, I find myself dazzled.

With careless benevolence, I have tended you for months. And now you have finally burst into flower. You have burst into flames.

With the blade still pressed firmly against my throat, you begin to rock against me.

They walked for a long time, in almost total darkness. The space felt narrow, the walls felt at times as though they were closing in, and the ground was rocky and uneven. But Hades knew the way, and he made sure that Persephone did not slip or stumble.

Eventually, they reached the end of their journey, and she found herself in the depths of his lair. Wide-eyed, she stared around her, and felt confused.

She had often been told of the horrors that lurked in the underworld, but looking around her now, she discovered that not a single word had been true.

This place was dark and hot, but it was beautifully furnished, and so different to anything she had seen before. Flames roared, and shadows danced on the ceiling.

Persephone had never seen anything so wonderful in all her life.

I hold you.

I guide you, as I have guided you since the moment we met.

My fingertips dig into your sides hard enough to bruise, as I look upon the beauty of your form, and I take my pleasure as you take yours.

The hand which is not holding the blade flexes and grasps at thin air until I bring it to rest against my torso. You hold your palm over my heart for a second, and then your nails rake stinging furrows down my chest, and you rock rock rock against me.

When the blade nicks my skin, you do not stop, but your eyes widen.

I smile at you, with blood trickling down my neck.

I am so proud of you. Of us. Of what we will become, you and I.

You smile back at me, reassured. Your smile is brighter than the sun. Brighter than all the suns in all the galaxies.

Brighter than the fires of hell.

“There were others, you know,” Hades said, quite conversationally, as he led the beautiful Persephone further into the depths of his retreat. “But they did not come willingly. They did not understand.”

Their corpses littered the floor now. Some of them still lovely, some of them just fragments of bone, but all of them so empty now. They had served a purpose once, but Hades couldn’t remember what it was anymore.

Persephone held his hand as he helped her to step over them, and did not say a word.

“Will you dine with me?” Hades asked. He had never requested before, only commanded, and none of them had ever assented.

Imagine his surprise when Persephone nodded, and followed him to the table, where a sumptuous feast had been laid out for them.

It’s strange ...

My mouth is moving. I can feel the rumble of my voice in my chest, and in my throat ...

But all I can hear is the roar of blood in my veins, the thunderclap of my heart, as the flame within you, me, us continues to spread far beyond what I could ever have imagined.

You have probably already realized that I am no wordsmith when I speak, but even though I cannot hear what I am saying, I feel the same sense of clarity, of rightness, that I feel when I commit my thoughts to paper or screen. If the unknown syllables spilling from my lips are even half as elegant as the ones which adorn the decadent halls and galleries of my mind, then perhaps you understand me better now.

Perhaps you know me …

And then, my voice catches in my throat, and I can speak no more.

Your hand is steady, the blade stays in place, piercing my skin again even as we begin our final descent.

And you lean in ...

You whisper something to me ...

But I do not understand it in this moment.

We are lost.

We are found.

We are burning.

We are burning, together ...

Hades sat down at the table. There were a great many chairs to choose from, but Persephone climbed into his lap, and tucked her head under his chin, as though she had always belonged there. “I’m starving,” she declared.

It was the first time she had ever spoken to him directly, and her words felt like music to his ears. If anyone knew hunger, it was Hades. He had been starving for a thousand years ...

His laugh was rich and deep as he reached out to pluck a pomegranate from an ornate serving dish right in front of where they sat. “Then eat,” he told her, offering her one single seed.

Surely she knew ...

Surely she understood there was a price to pay ...

But Persephone just smiled, and reached for his other hand, which was holding the rest of the fruit. When she wrapped her little fingers around his wrist, his skin should have been hot enough to sear her to the bone, but she didn’t feel a thing.

Hades’ gaze was fixed on her face as she leaned down to take a great bite of the fruit. As she chewed with great gusto, juice dripped down her chin, until he wiped it away with his thumb. “How was it?” he asked, when he could find his voice again.

“Delicious,” she replied, reaching for the fruit once more.

Still smiling, she offered him a bite, but Hades shook his head.

He had been starving for a thousand years, but he wasn’t hungry anymore ...

You sleep so soundly next to me. Your hair feels like spun silk against my fingertips. You are soft and warm, your jagged edges quelled by your slumber.

As I fold my limbs around you, preparing for another long night of watching over you, the words you whispered earlier come back to me quite suddenly, as clearly as if you had just spoken them again.

I can almost feel the trace of your breath against my neck, your lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, as you speak so sweetly to me from the depths of your heart …

“I love you, Charlie.”

In the darkness, my eyes snap open.

I want to hold you closer.

(I want to push you away.)

My love ...

Oh, my love ...

What have I done?

#the anatomy of a killer #B+C #me x kitten #hades x persephone #be careful what you wish for #the beginning of the end #tw: blood #tw: bloodplay #tw: knife #tw: knifeplay

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iammultifandomaf · 3 years

Text

Once a Leader, Always a Leader

Fanfiction: Swee Home Netflix

Chapter 5 - I AM BACK

Luckily, they haven't encountered any monsters inside and quickly gathered everything they could fit into their van. As they walked out, they overheard a monstrous voice screaming, however it wasn't the one that belonged to Eun-Hyuk.

"We should get out of here," Ji-Su said and hastily opened the back door of the van, putting in everything she and Eun-Yu found in the gas station shop.

"We still need to put the gas in," Eun-Yu said nervously, as the monstrous noises closed in. Ji-Su tried to pick up the canister but a stabbing pain in her stomach stopped her. "God, you have to pick it up, I can't." Eun-Yu didn't talk back and did as instructed, her previous confidence withering away with the terrifying sound nearing onto them.

As soon as she was done, Ji-Su climbed back into the van behind the steering wheel and Eun-Yu sat down next to her.

Before Ji-Su was able to start the engine, however, a creature that comprised only out of legs and thousands of eyes landed in front of them.

"Fuck, start the fucking car!" Eun-Yu screamed at Ji-Su who did exactly as she said and was about to step on the gas paddle, however something fell directly onto that monster in front of them which created a wave of wind gushing to all directions.

Both Ji-Su and Eun-Yu tried to make out what was happening in front of them and suddenly both of them realized...

"He made it," Ji-Su whispered in astonishment. They watched the familiar-looking monster dig his claws into the monster underneath him, eliminating it. Eun-Hyuk, then, straightened his back and looked straight into the van.

"What the hell is he wearing?" Hye-In finally couraged up to look, too. Eun-Hyuk had only some piece of dirty cloth wrapped around his lower body, not really offering him any proper coverage. Eun-Yu opened the door and angrily made her way to Eun-Hyuk.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?!" she started yelling at him as he watched her with that smile again.

"Don't you give me that face of yours, I hate it. I told you that if-" Eun-Yu couldn't finish her sentence because her brother leaned down, putting his hand under her armpits and raised her to his eye-level.

"I am sorry, Eun-Yu," he said softly and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let me the fuck go, I am angry at you!" she said, now in a less agitated voice, letting Eun-Hyuk hug her. Her eyes again produced a waterfall of tears which she wanted to hide.

"What happened there?" Ji-Su asked after she got out of the van. Eun-Hyuk still held his sister in his arms as he came closer to Ji-Su and only set Eun-Yu down when he was right in front of Ji-Su. Eun-Yu immediately crossed her arms on her chest and looked away.

"I'll tell you everything," he said and grabbed the knot of the cloth around him, changing back to his human looks, "but first, I'd appreciate some clothes."

Ji-Su automatically went to the back of the van and looked through the bags for some pants and a simple t-shirt. Meanwhile, Eun-Yu watched her brother with a pretended angry gaze.

"You're again filthy," Eun-Yu commented on all the dried blood and goo that Eun-Hyuk was covered in.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," Eun-Hyuk said with an innocent smile.

"Don't always apologize to me, just don't...don't be so reckless," Eun-Yu whispered the last sentence.

"Is that Eun-Hyuk?" Hye-In peeked out of the van, relieved by what she saw.

"Hey," Eun-Hyuk raised his hand and waved at her, "I am back."

"Thank god. We need somebody that can fight those things," Hye-In said and sat back into the van in relief. Ji-Su finally found something that would probably fit Eun-Hyuk even if he turned into a monster again.

"Here you go, they are a bit bigger so you don't have to change all the time. Maybe go try the gas station bathroom... to clean up a bit?" Ji-Su suggested. Eun-Hyuk took the boundle of clothes from her and bowed a bit as thanks and went inside the gas station to find the bathroom. Surprisingly, it was not in such a bad state as he imagined it to be. He found a mirror covered in dust and dirt and looked at himself.

I need more like a shower, he thought as he watched his body being covered in mud mixed with all the nasty things that came out of the monsters. There were so many that he did not really believe he would survive this time. But it was as if his monster persona kicked in suddenly and he knew what to do to save himself. He just had to devour them all.

Don't be afraid of it, just embrace it. You are the answer to the chaos, you have to know that, right? A voice in his head reminded him. The voice that became his own. I guess I do not really have another choice, hm? If I want to keep them save... I should accept it.

Eun-Hyuk tried to wash the most of the filth off of him with the cloth he before wrapped around himself and then pulled on the sweatpants and a very large T-shirt that Ji-Su gave him. As he walked out, he saw the girls standing by the van, watching the surroundings for any potential danger.

"How do I look?" Eun-Hyuk asked to enlighten the mood.

"Ridiculous?" Eun-Yu answered him and rolled her eyes. He repaid her with a smile.

"What now?" Ji-Su asked, looking at Eun-Hyuk for an answer.

"Don't you need to clean your wound?" Eun-Hyuk said instead and approached her, lifting her T-shirt without asking.

"Hey!" she cried out and slapped him over his hand which stayed put. Eun-Hyuk raised his gaze to meet her eyes and said: "It's a bit infected again, isn't it? Sorry that I made you drive... that probably didn't help as well."

"It's not your fault," she said quietly and looked away.

"Come here, sit," he instructed and showed her to the back of the van," Hye-In, could you get me some disinfectant and something to patch her up?"

The woman put her dog aside and started searching for what Eun-Hyuk asked for, meanwhile Ji-Su lied down and let Eun-Hyuk take off her now dirty bandages.

"So...," she said through her teeth as Eun-Hyuk cleaned her wound, "what now?"

"Well, I have this... haunch... Or I don't really know... maybe I imagined it-"

"Just tell us, god," Eun-Yu jumped in.

"When I was preoccupied with fighting the monsters... I though I heard Pyeon Sang-Wook. He sounded really angry. He was definitely talking to somebody to 'get the fuck out of his body'."

"Somebody is in his body?" Ji-Su asked and sat up as Eun-Hyuk finished patching her up.

"You hear voices now?" Eun-Yu rose her eyebrows at him.

"I really can't say for sure. Maybe I was just confused. But if what I've heard was real, then it seems as if Pyeon Sang-Wook's body is used by someone else? A monster perhaps?" Eun-Hyuk said.

"And how do we find out if that's true?" Hye-In asked.

"We could... try to go somewhere following that haunch?" Eun-Hyuk said with an uncertain voice. He never really relied on instinct before and always tried to be pragmatic but this new part of himself made him want to trust his gut on this.

"What? What does that even mean?" Eun-Yu asked and watched her brother suspiciously.

"Honestly, I don't like this strategy as well... but we don't really have anything else to follow right now. And the last few weeks have been literally life-changing for me."

As nobody had any other better plan to suggest, they all sat back into the van and let Eun-Hyuk drive off to somewhere he felt good about. Eun-Yu was sitting next to him with her arms crossed on her chest, watching him carefully. She felt a bit bad about always calling him a fake brother before, even though it was somewhat true. But now, he was the only family left and she couldn't imagine what would she do if he left her now. Eun-Hyuk left college so he could take care of her and that made her furious. How was it so simple for him to be so selfless?

They drove for about an hour or two. Meanwhile, the children and the adults, as well, got hungry, so they ate some dried fruit and jerky to satisfy their stomaches.

Eun-Hyuk stopped the car in front of a tall apartment building that looked abandoned, however Eun-Hyuk knew that somebody was certainly in there. He undid his seatbelt and looked at the women and children in the van.

"He is definitely in there," he stated.

"How do you know?" Hye-In asked nervously.

"I think we passed the point where Eun-Hyuk or anyone else would have a rational explanation for these things," Ji-Su said and took her knife out, "let's go then."

"You should stay here...," Eun-Hyuk said.

"Why? What's in there?" Eun-Yu asked on alert, getting rilled up again because Eun-Hyuk wanted to go on his own.

"Well, what do you think. Monsters."

"Don't you think that it's better to take us with you when you are the only one capable of protecting us? What if we stay in the car and get murdered by a crazy monster while you are hanging out inside, huh?" Eun-Yu said quickly, proud of her argument because it made Eun-Hyuk look back at the children and think about it.

"You might be right," he sighed.

"Of course I am."

"God, kids, listen up. You need to stay with us at all times, alright? And if I say something, you'll do it," Eun-Hyuk turned to the children who just quietly nodded.

"Alright, let's go," Eun-Yu said with a smile and opened the van door.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13825734/5/

#sweet home fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #sweet home #sweet home netflix #lee eun-hyuk #lee eun-yu

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darlingsdevil · 4 years

Text

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 8: Only This and Nothing More

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

OTV Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Tag list (comment to be added or removed) @sidepuff @joelsheartache e @fangirl-inthe-us @cowboyfrazer @scarletpines @mikah-writes @sleepylunarwolf f @mr-robot-x @shybookdragon @heughan @writer-jamie @nelliecraine

A/N: I’m so sorry for the later update.. I went on a vacation to Nashville (more like just helping my sister move in but I call it vacation).. I’m going to be a lot more busy next few months so updates will be not super often.

Anyways, a lot of this chapter is my own weird humor and poking fun at my own writing.. Reader is starting to sound like me when I’m at work or anyone bothers me while I’m at home lol.

Another mini update.. the main plot points of the story are pretty much already plotted. Ending is all set.. just how do I get there 🤔 I guess I’ll figure it out as I go.

Comments/likes/reblogs are super appreciated!

•••

You woke up early for work as usual, the sun would rise in a few hours. Not many jobs required such early hours — most starting as the sun rose but the bar needed extra hands before they opened. It was a much better pace for you, quick, a reminder to put on your strong face through the day and pretend everything was fine.

You had made yourself a nice breakfast, realizing your increased appetite throughout the past few months wasn’t because you were eating your sorrows away. It was better to remind yourself you were eating for two now anyways.

How long would it be before you really started showing? Who would notice first? You were already barely beginning to show.. if someone looked awfully close they could see that. You opted for a baggier shirt when you chose your outfit for the day. There was a sense of dread as you thought about having to tell your close friends, though Maria was the first to know, you doubted everyone else’s reaction would go as smoothly. It was foolish to think Maria would be anything less than supportive.

You thought about how you would have told Mark if he had been still alive. You wondered how he would react.. how Joel would react. How it would only put further strain on both of those relationships.

But how would Joel react now? You wanted to play it safely, while you didn’t regret telling Maria, you needed to be more careful. You had enough to explain to Joel as is, you didn’t want to tell him of your secret just yet.

Joel was angry with you, yet he had accepted an invite to the lake (even though he did owe you a trip back), it was progress. You would have to play it smart, let him know at the right time.

It was easier to warm up to the idea of having a baby after talking to Maria, it was reassuring. Perhaps it wouldn’t too difficult, especially while living in Jackson. And if you did decide you didn’t want to keep the baby, you were certain there were families willing to take the child in.

You managed to make it out of the door quickly, there was no twinge of nausea as you walked to the bar, that was welcoming. Exhaustion pulled at you, staying up to find Ellie had certainly taken a toll on you. You usually worked morning shifts, which meant you could leave and have the rest of the day for yourself.

Joel was probably getting ready to go out for patrol now, depending on what route he had. Ellie was probably sulking in her room — or asleep waiting for Maria to come knocking again. The teenagers who snuck out would definitely be talk of the town, especially if a group that large headed into the Courthouse.

Jackson was quiet, as it had been earlier in the night. Few lights were on, it was always particularly quiet this time in the morning. The autumn air was cool and refreshing, Halloween was creeping around the corner, so was the Autumn festival. Mark preferred the Autumn Festival over Halloween, it was a place holder for the broken arm incidents.

You wished he was here for it. Seasonal dances were always his favorite. He would pull you onto the dance floor after he begged the DJ to play Bill Withers. You missed his laughter, though it was being blurred as time went by.. you couldn’t exactly remember how his laugh sounded, or where the scar on his face started on his nose. It was haunting, forgetting Mark was like forgetting a part of yourself.

Mark was gone. That life you had with him was gone. There was a shell of a room in your house, his child growing inside of you, dog tags around your neck and a world turned upside down. Mark’s death was not something quiet in your life, and yet few people knew of it.

You remembered every second of his death, the running for your life, hiding and hoping it was enough. Watching him, silently from your hidden spot. The blood on the floor. The sound of a gunshot. It was something unforgettable, a memory forever ingrained into your mind in splitting detail. Sometimes the faint smell of copper would appear in your mind and it would make your head woozy. The nightmares rarely let up.

Mark would touch your life forever.. even beyond the grave he had left something behind. You weren’t sure whether to thank him or curse.

•••

Ellie figured she could sleep before hell broke loose. There was no point in staying up all night. She dreaded the morning, listening to Joel yell at her along with Maria, having to take the walk of shame into the Courthouse with the other teens, dealing with Cat and Dina. It was a pure mess.

Maria knocked on her door before sunrise, waking her up. Ellie groaned quietly and pulled herself out of bed, flicking the light on as the early morning light fell through her window. Her head was aching from last night’s adventure.

She opened the door for Maria, Maria didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, she walked in.

“Punishment has changed, you’re only getting the same punishment as the rest of the teenagers. Seems like you owe Y/N a favor,” Maria told Ellie.

Ellie’s brow furrowed in confusion before she realized.

“Y/N asked me to go easier on you, so I did,” She explained non chalantly.

“Wow, well thank you,” Ellie said, surprised, she was relieved.

“You should thank Y/N.”

“I will,” Ellie nodded. It was silent for a few seconds.

“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I was upset and drunk,” She apologized.

“I know. It still wasn’t right for you to go outside the wall, you know the rules,” Maria said softly to the girl. It was going smoother than Ellie had expected.

“I just.. wanted to get away from everything for a night,” Ellie said to Maria. Maria wasn’t surprised.

“I understand. It still wasn’t the best course of action though,” Maria said thoughtfully, though she was disappointed.

“Yeah, I know,” Ellie replied, shame hinting in her voice.

“Joel’s already up, he has a shorter route today so he didn’t have to get up so early,” Maria explained to her. Ellie could feel the dread grow in her as she glanced out the window, the lights were on inside. She barely went over to his house these days, barely even said much to him, avoiding Joel as much as she could. She had things to figure out, Joel being around her would only confuse things further. It hurt having such a strain with someone she looked up to, but Joel was keeping the truth from her.

“Come on,” Maria said, motioning for Ellie to follow her as she exited Ellie’s room. There was frost on the grass, and a chill swept through the morning air.

Maria knocked on Joel’s back porch, Joel’s footsteps were loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. Joel opened the door, looking confused to see both Maria and Ellie standing outside.

“Maria?” He asked, glancing over to Ellie as well, his brow raised.

“Can we come in?” Maria replied. Ellie stood to the side, praying this would be over quickly. Joel opened the door for them, they entered into his kitchen. Joel’s house felt foreign to be in, like entering a stranger's home, as if she was intruding. And yet it still felt familiar — like it was a hidden memory locked away from years of repressed thoughts, barely recognizable.

Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for Maria. Ellie averted her gaze to the floor as Maria began.

“Ellie snuck out last night with a group of teenagers,” Maria told Joel.

Joel’s face was unreadable until he spoke, looking over to Ellie. “What?” He said, his voice bubbling with disbelief and harshness.

“She snuck out. Got drunk too,” Maria explained, both of them staring at the teenager.

“Have you any idea what is out there? Have you forgotten what it’s like?” Joel scolded, anger and disappointment lacing his words. Ellie flinched at his voice.

“Am I not allowed to have fun anymore?” Ellie scoffed back with defiance, throwing her hands up in the air in protest.

“What you did was reckless and stupid, you know the risks,” Joel said, his face contorted in anger.

“Like there’s even any infected near town.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie,” Maria replied firmly, shooting her a look.

“There are a thousand things that could have gone wrong. You shouldn’t have gone out there.” Joel was disappointed in Ellie.

“People do it all the time, why am I getting flamed for it now, huh?”

“Because you got caught,” Maria said.

“You only care when it has something to do with me. Y/N and Dina snuck out and you didn’t give two shits about them!” Ellie felt her head growing hot, her words fueled by anger.

Joel was surprised to hear that you had gone, a sense of worry flooding through him, why had you gone out as well?

“Y/N and Dina were looking for you,” Maria reminded her.

Ellie was silent, the tension was thick in the kitchen and Joel was burning holes in her head with his eyes.

“She’s getting the same punishment the rest of the party goers are getting, they’re going to the courthouse when the sun rises,” Maria explained to Joel.

“Take her off patrol for a month since she’s gotten too comfortable with being outside,” Joel said coldly.

“Sure,” Maria said. She was fine with that punishment.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. “That’s bullshit! You said you weren’t taking me off patrol!” She shouted to Maria.

“I said I wasn’t anymore. I’m leaving the rest to Joel.”

“It’s final, Ellie. You made a stupid mistake and now you have to pay the price for it,” Joel said. There was no debate, but Ellie would put up a protest.

“That’s such bullshit,” Ellie scoffed, storming out of Joel’s house, slamming the door behind her. Joel stood in the kitchen, feeling the rift pull them further and further away.

“I’ll go get her,” Maria grumbled, becoming increasingly annoyed at Ellie.

“No, let her go,” Joel sighed, feeling a tension headache coming on.

“I don’t know what’s been getting into her lately,” Maria replied, leaning her back on the counter next to Joel.

Joel grunted softly, “I’m trying, I am.”

“I know Joel, I think whatever is going on with Ellie she needs to figure it out herself.”

•••

The morning rush was annoying as ever. You were barely able to sit or even have a moment of rest, it seemed another customer walked through the door each time you even leaned against the back counter. But it was nice, busy work, it kept your mind off things and it was a constant reminder of how to socialize with people. It kept your mind off the horde coming to town, the baby, Joel, Ellie, practically everyone.

As the sun rose mid way through your shift, you saw the crowd of teenagers meet outside the Courthouse. You spotted Ellie and Cat, on opposite sides of the crowd. The people in the bar noticed too, perking up as they saw Maria and the rest of the Council members show up. Some people cracked jokes, some people muttered to each other, but as they went into the building the chatter died down. You wondered what the punishment was going to be. At least you managed to get Ellie no sentence from Maria, you also wondered how Joel handled things.

Joel was probably out on patrol by now, Tommy wasn’t with him, you wondered who he had gone out on patrol with then. You were almost always assigned with Mark — occasionally Joel. But usually Mark. The head of patrol usually kept you two together considering you were roommates, wanting to keep the same schedule.

A large group came into the bar and you groaned inwardly, cursing yourself and your job. Dina and Jesse were a part of the group. The crowd dispersed and went to their own tables, Dina making a beeline towards you

“Hey,” She smiled at you, sitting down at the bar. It wasn’t uncommon for Dina to stop by.

“How’s it going? Group patrol today?” You asked, wiping down the bar.

She nodded, “Yeah, we came in for breakfast before we went out. We have a long route today so Jesse wanted to make sure we all ate.”

“How are things between you and him?” Dina had mentioned they were having some issues last night.

“I haven’t really talked to him about us. He knows about Ellie, he’s pissed at her for not inviting him but he thinks it’s funny she got caught,” She rolled her eyes. You were glad someone here was making advancements in their relationships instead of hitting a brick wall — or multiple.

“Ellie’s at the Courthouse right now, I saw her with the crowd that went inside.”

“Yeah.. hopefully I’ll be able to catch her later tonight, try to smooth things over.”

“Good idea. Who else is patrolling today?”

“Joel, I know is, not sure who else I’ll have to look at the gate logbooks. You know you should really think about coming back to patrol, I miss seeing your’s and Mark’s messages next to the logbooks,” Dina replied, she wasn’t attempting to persuade you like Maria was.

“You know I was convinced no one ever read the Adventures of a Town Crackson, Mark isn't convinced though,” You laughed, remembering his silly stories and messages he would leave for others to find. The piles of sticky notes he left next to logbooks told a story, the story went that he would make mini comics out of old sticky notes and leave them around lookouts for people to read, you would have to visit them all in a certain order to understand. The Adventures of a Town Crackson was a parody of Jackson, except the main character, Lame Lane was a superhero on a revenge quest to kill the evil mastermind Mister Jacobsonithia, who had wronged him years before by killing those close to Lame Lane. It was both a bizarre and funny story.

“Oh no, that story is practically famous! Mark left us on a cliffhanger at Volume.. what was it.. 13th? The one where Lame Lane breaks into Jacobsinthia’s fortress and finds him! Right when Lame finally faces the bastard!” Dina excitedly rambled. Mark would have loved to talk about his story with Dina, you were glad at least someone had read what he called his masterpiece.

You simply stood and smiled bittersweetly, listening to Dina talk about Mark’s story.

“You really have to convince Mark to come back to patrol, I want to read the end of the story!” She said finally as you put her meal in front of her.

You shrugged, “I don’t know if he’s thought of an ending yet.”

•••

Later in the day, someone knocked on your door. You had been getting so many visitors lately.. you wondered who was there and what the hell they wanted. You had ate more of the cookies Maria brought over last night, they were good. You wanted something salty or sour to balance out the sweetness, like pretzels or pickles. Maybe both. You were mid way through your second cookie when someone knocked.

You got up quickly, grumbling the entire time underneath your breath. You were damn tired of leaving your town, socializing, looking for a teenager and having to take orders all day. You just wanted to eat cookies and collapse in bed.

Ellie was at the door surprinsgly.

“Ellie, hey,” You said, opening the door to let her in, closing the door as she entered.

“Hey.”

“What brings you here?” You asked, wondering why Ellie had suddenly shown up at your door.

“I just wanted to say thanks for having my back and letting Maria drop my punishment,” She said sincerely, even though her words seemed hard to get out.

“Of course, it’s the least I can do,” You replied.

“Joel still took me off patrol for a month,” Ellie rolled her eyes at the thought.

“He can do that?”

“Maria let him,” She said, sucking in a breath.

“I’m sorry, that sucks,” You told her.

She rocked on her feet, swaying gently back and forth. “Yeah,” She mumbled.

“Have you talked to Cat or Dina?”

She perked up at your question, “Cat’s still pissed at me and Dina’s out on patrol today so no.”

“How did Joel handle things?”

Ellie shrugged, not wanting to discuss the topic.

“Okay by the way, how was the Courthouse?” You changed the subject. The Courthouse was never fun.. it was where the Town Council did all of the planning for Jackson, assignments and occasionally hearings/punishments.

“Council put us all on clean up duty for the festival and nine pm curfew for the next two months,” She sighed.

“What assignment are you going to take in the meantime?”

“I don’t know, maybe trading post,” She said unthrillingly. There weren’t many open assignments that were anything but a bore. At least people at the trading post got to talk with others from outside of Jackson, though you weren’t sure it was Ellie’s style. You could see her on wall duty, though there were rarely open spots. Ellie likes kids, but you weren’t sure she could handle screaming toddlers for days on end, the daycare was a no go.

“How about the farms or gardening?”

“Do I look like a gardener to you?” She joked.

You shook your head humorously, “No, but I could see you in overalls and maybe a big farmers hat.”

“Fair enough,” She smirked.

“Oh, since you’re here did you want to get the Walkman tapes and the records?” You remembered promising her Mark’s old collection.. though you were sure you wouldn’t be able to give away his favorites, it would be far too cruel.

“Yeah sure, is Mark here right now?” She asked, glancing past you to the hallway.

“Oh, uh no, he’s not but he won’t mind, trust me,” You replied. Lying about Mark’s whereabouts was something you were getting good at. Of course, you knew exactly where he was and where he would be for all of eternity.

Ellie nodded, excited to hear some more tapes.

“I’ll go get them from his room, I’ll be right back.”

Walking back to his room, twice in less than twenty four hours.. it was insane. You weren’t even sure you could ever go into that room again and here you were, walking back up those same steps to his loft, feeling his dog tags jingle with every step, twisting the doorknob open and being inside of his room.

The room that felt lifeless. It felt wrong to take anything from out of his room.. like it was a scene forever stuck in a piece of history and you were disrupting it. But his things would have to go eventually, Ellie would appreciate his records. You were sure she would.

And yet a thought struck you.. would your child want something to remember their father by? Was giving away his records the best course of action? For months you wanted to get rid of everything that reminded you of him.. and yet you wanted to keep things. To have something to remember him by. The Walkman tapes would go untouched for years.. and you would only keep Mark’s favorite records — you were sure Ellie wouldn’t take too many of them regardless.

Bill Withers, Motley Crüe, Green Day and Queen records were all off limits. Mark would come back from the dead and knock some sense into you if you gave away any of those.

But there were others you were sure Ellie would appreciate.. Pearl Jam, The Sleek Habit.. or whatever the hell it was called. It was Mark’s favorite thing to collect — records, it seemed like he could listen to one album a day and still not have listened to them all by the time he turned eighty. At least he kept them ordered by genre, it made your life easier to pick out a few boxes. The boxes of records under his bed, in his closet, next to his dresser. You found his Walkman tapes in a small drawer on his bedside table, he didn’t have quite as many.

You decided on bringing Ellie, punk rock, folk music and alternative. Plus Mark’s entire collection of tapes.

Somehow, you managed to bring them all down to her. Her eyes lit up at the sight of them, you set the boxes down on the kitchen table.

“Take as many as you want, just let me see them first, otherwise Mark might get mad I’ve given away his favorites,” You said to her as she began flicking through the boxes.

She picked out a few she liked, luckily they weren’t all that memorable to Mark, or at least what you had remembered, you weren’t sure you had the heart to tell her to put any of his favorites away though if she had managed to pick out one of his favorites.

“Find the ones you were looking for?” You asked her as she picked all the records and tapes up.

“Yeah, Mark’s got a big collection, I even found Shawn James and Crooked Still,” She smiled, the sparkle returning to her face. You were glad Mark’s love of music had made her happy, he could pass on gifts even beyond the grave.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Tell Mark I say thanks. I’m really sorry, I have to bounce, I think Dina might be home by now, seriously though, thanks again for getting me off the hook,” She said to you, her sincerity apparent. There was still uneasiness between you and her.. as there was with almost everyone, and yet things were starting to look brighter and brighter.

You nodded, bidding her farewell for the rest of the day, a pang of remembrance hitting your heart, as if things were slowly and yet surely returning to what normal felt like months ago. Even if a large part of your life was missing from it.. things were starting to look up. It felt almost wrong to be happy after months of grief and isolation, you felt guilty for allowing yourself to step back into the light, but you were happy things were starting to look better. Mark would have liked you to be happy, that was certain.

•••

Another knock on the door, another interrupted hour. The sun had set by then, you were done with dinner and were watching a movie you had found. You had a nice candle flickering too, the people of Jackson were awfully crafty, it was one of the few commodities that you regularly sought out, Mark had his candy and records, you had candles. Your house was starting to feel more lively again.

You opened the door to see Joel standing on the other side. You were definitely surprised to see him.

“Joel,”

“Hello, can I come in?” He asked.

“Sure,” You said, opening the door for him. Your porch light illuminated the dead flowers hanging from the roof.. you had been meaning to take those downs.

“Don’t worry, Mark’s not here,” You said to him as he entered.

Joel nodded as he glanced around your house. Not much had changed since the last time he had been there.

“Been awhile huh?” You asked.

“Yep. Been some time.”

“Any reason you decided to stop by?” You asked.

“I wanted to thank you for looking out for Ellie,” Joel began.

“Of course. I would have gotten you if we wouldn’t have found her, I just didn’t want to wake you up,” You explained.

“Yeah, I get that. I’m glad you’re looking out for her though.. I know you don’t like being outside Jackson anymore.”

“I didn’t want anything to happen to Ellie,” You shrugged.

“She’s not happy with what I told her. Not that I’m surprised though. I’m disappointed in her, I thought she knew better.”

“She’s a teenager, Joel. Teenagers are allowed to make mistakes,” You said.

“She still needs to be reminded of what’s out there.”

“Not arguing with you on that,” You replied softly.

It was silent for a few moments, “So.. about our trip to the lake,” He began again.

Your eyes lit up at the thought, “Oh! Yeah, right, I shoot the infected, you take me to the lake, that’s how it went, or maybe you still owe me a trip back,” You reminded him.

“I do still owe you,” He smiled.

That day.. so much had happened in such a small period of time, everything felt like a blur.

“You do. But I was thinking we could skip the lake and maybe.. you would want to come with me to the Halloween party?” You asked, almost shyly.

Joel smiled as he scratched his beard, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe?” You blushed lightly.

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/N,” He teased.

“Yes. It’s a yes, I’m asking you on a date.” Three months of no contact and here you were asking Joel on a date.. you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. Damn you, hormonal imbalances.

“Then yes, I’ll take you to the party.” He nodded.

“A date it is then,” You said happily.

“Are you sure you’re not sick anymore though?” He asked playfully.

“I'm not , maybe it was just something I ate that day,” You shrugged, lying through your teeth. You knew what came over you, and you weren’t sure how exactly that would ever come up in conversation with Joel.. how would he even react to that? The longer you waited.. the harder it would be.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. Hopefully it wasn’t Tommy’s stew.”

“At least it wasn’t mine.”

Joel left shortly after that, you were still smiling as he left. There were still questions, and there were answers you needed to give, but at least it wasn’t as rocky as it had been a few days ago. Maybe it was easy to heal.. or maybe the circumstances were making it easier. Or maybe it was just time to start living your life again, a new life that mirrored your last, but in an entirely new way.

It was a fresh start. You put your hand on your small bump, barely noticeable as you sat down on the couch. Your knees weak and your smile wide. Maybe it was time.

•••

#tlou 2 #tlou 2 x reader #the last of us #the last of us pt ii #the last of us part 2 #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou 2 fanfiction #tlou 2 fanfic #tlou #joel miller #joel tlou

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pyrrhesia · 3 years

Text

FF14 Write - ‘Illustrious’ (D26)

In which Ysabet Sable watches the sun set.

Severine de Belgrave rested her old bones by the fire, sinking into an armchair with a long, satisfied sigh. Not for the first time, she thanked Halone for her good health. Though perhaps she ought to thank good living. She'd seen other knights go quickly to seed, and now could hear their backs crack and knees explode from malms off. Severine's fighting days were long past, but she kept as spry as she could. Got mountain air by the lungful, didn't drink as much as she once had. After all, there felt so much to do. One of the most coveted trainers in Ishgard, a proud and feared matriarch of what was now a flourishing House, and through it all she did her best to be a good wife. Yet, here and now, she had her house all to herself. As the rain pattered off the roof overhead, she leaned back in her chair and remembered... Fearful days of fire and suffering, they had been. Yet through it all, a disparate band of misfits and outcasts followed falling stars and risen gods, bound together. Shining steel cut through the encroaching dark. She had been a hero, once.

Severine jolted awake to the sound of a rapping at her door. It was insistent, which given the rain had only intensified was only natural. Severine rose to her feet with a grunt, unbowed by age, her poise the picture of dignity, her hand lingering on the hilt of the dagger at her belt the model of prudence. Yet when she opened the door, she relaxed. Two drenched flaxen ears drooped from holes cut into a hooded cloak sodden with rain. Keen violet eyes peered out from over the top of the high-drawn mantle. "Ser Severine," she said, voice muffled. The elezen gave a smile, scant warning before closing the distance and embracing the viera in a tight hug. "It's been too long, Ysabet." When the viera was done pretending to look affronted, she trudged inside, divesting herself of her cloak. All that had changed in the years was... was... ? No. Nothing. The softly sweeping curves of her face remained unlined, the softly sweeping curves of her figure unchanged. She moved with the same grace and purpose as she always had, and not even her voice felt at all worn by the decades. She even favoured the same cool greens, not quite the shades of a forest. Ysabet had been doing well for herself, but in the distance. Her shadow had been felt, mostly because she had taken it upon herself to write and publish the exhaustive Annals of the Scions' deeds. While Ysabet used words like a Garlean general used auxiliary infantry, her concussive prose had a strangely melodic quality to it, and certainly none could doubt her authenticity or her scrupulous adherence to the truth. The last man who had tried had been confronted mid-lecture at swordpoint. Besides that, she'd just sort of... well, Severine had trusted that she'd been doing something. She wasn't the sort to sit idle. They'd never spoken especially much, back then. It was only when swords were sheathed and their task concluded that they truly began to realise, all of them, that they had achieved something truly monumental between them. That there was a shared experience nothing else in their lives could possibly match. A feeling Severine couldn't even share with her wife... "You look well," she said, diplomatically. "I always do. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about." Ysabet dug around in a satchel that clinked with promise. "You, also. Sincerely. Some of the others, I barely recognise, but you are still the spitting image of... yourself. Ah!" She pulled out a fine crystal bottle of breathtakingly expensive wine, and proffered it bottom-first in the time-honoured fashion of the amateur sommelier. "I thought we'd talk. Perhaps of old times. Perhaps of new." Severine took up the bottle, having to squint rather more than she'd like at the label. "Ah, all the way from La Noscea. It's a beautiful vintage. You did not need to bribe me to have a place by my fire, you know. But I appreciate it all the same." "I was in the area. I often am. The place still has its hooks in me, I think." She pulled something else out of the satchel, too. A notebook, slim by her standards, and a fine feather quill ensorcelled to ever be wet with ink. Some twenty years ago, Ysabet had decided she'd spilled her final inkwell on her priceless primary records. "Ishgard, not so much." "Take a seat by the fireplace." Severine gestured the way, waiting magnanimously for her guest to take the first seat as she weaved past and took a couple of wine-glasses before letting herself fall into place opposite. "Truth be told, I'd... well, I had expected you to come, sooner or later." "Ah?" Severine cracked her knuckles against her jaw, resting her head and regarding Ysabet with a knowing little smile. "Some of us do still correspond, you know. It's not been a secret you've been dropping in unannounced, of late. Asking after us, after our lives. Like you're eager to underline our entries in your little books, no?" To Severine's surprise, Ysabet looked genuinely hurt. She could be - she had been - so cold, so detached, and yet... "You make it sound so... clerkly." "I know," on some level, Severine didn't add, "it reflects you care deeply. That is what it's about, isn't it? Making certain all is accounted for, before we're... no longer able to contribute." "Am I so transparent?" Ysabet looked aside to the fire, lip curling in something like disgust. "I suppose I am something akin to a vulture, these days. You cannot be glad to see my circling." "No, I am." "You have only my word I care for you, that this is the ultimate symbol of that care. My records will outlive us both, Severine. The entire point of my writing them was to ensure the truth about us all stood, unopposed, through the centuries." Severine poured out the wine, reaching over to hand Ysabet's to her. "Rest assured, I have no intention of dying anyday soon. I'd have you stay, and we can talk without such pressures overhead." "We'll have as much time as we need, eh? Well... perhaps. Yet we are here now." Ysabet sipped her wine, but seemed far away in thought. "The last was Cwenthryth Sadler. I had been... occupied, elsewhere. By the time I arrived, I found her bound to her deathbed." Severine... vaguely remembered her. The muscular Ul'dahn who had returned to her Ala Mhigan roots in arms, but stayed true to the cause, to the end. "I knew little of her. She spoke little." Ysabet snorted. "And I once thought there was little to know. Perhaps, in a sense, there was. Certainly no shortage of women like her. Yet how many went on to slay Gods?" She sighed, considering her words carefully. "Yet, her strength - nor the strength of any of us - was not the most remarkable thing, I think." "... So you'll tell me what was?" "When it was all over, she simply set down her bow and lived peacefully." Ysabet looked back up at Severine. "The rest of her days. The finest archer I'd seen! With a voice as clear as spring-water. People would have flocked to hear her sing, but nobody could ever make her. And now, nobody ever..." Ysabet bit her lip, hard, and looked away at the fire. Something dripped onto the cover of her journal. "But she was happy?" Severine prompted. "I think so." Ysabet's voice was small. "She loved Aislona, I know. Nobody wanted anything more from her, and I am not sure she wanted anything more from the world. But... I should have liked to have seen it myself, I think. It always felt like the time would be right. And yet, it never truly came. I have to force myself to remember any urgency. The years drift by. And at first, ten, twenty years... it seemed as though I would have forever." "You will." Severine tried not to sound bitter. "Or may as well." "Hmph." Ysabet forced a brave little smile. "Not with you. It... took too long to realise, it was the world that could wait. And... I know, I know it is the most selfish of complaints. That I remain young while my companions wither and die! O, poor me! Yet it has been so hard, watching, helpless, holding a love that only grows stronger, as..." After a time, Severine hauled herself up from her seat and offered her arms around Ysabet's silently tremoring shoulders. They remained there in silence for a while, as the rain came down. Finally, Ysabet pulled herself free, swallowed hard, and leafed to a new, dry page of her journal. "Tell me, Severine. Tell me of your life."

And someday, when all lay to rest, a student would pick up a dense book - a copy set in type, passing through a dozen hands - and leaf through the pages of near-forgotten heroes until landing on one at random. Ever faithful to the true ideals of knighthood, if not the trappings of noble conduct, Ser Severine de Belgrave proved to all she was no disgrace to her family's crest...

#FFxivWrite2021 #OC: cwenthryth sadler #OC: ysabet sable #OC: severine belgrave #been melancholy lately #been consuming media lately #it all contributes #illustrious

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halfblood-fiend · 4 years

Text

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 5

FUCK OR DIE

Show: Enterprise

Words: 5,940

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): explicit sexual content

The Ex in Extra-Terrestrial

Mestral had known that this outcome was inevitable. His biological needs would always catch up with him, he had only hoped that it wouldn't come to this, to her. It's been three years since he last saw Maggie, now she was his only hope if he wanted to stay alive. He only wished she would not judge him too harshly.

Read it on AO3.

He had known that this day was going to come eventually. It was as inevitable as the rising and setting of the single sun on this world that he had called his home for three years. A part of him—highly illogical though it was—had hoped it would never come at all. Perhaps, he would get inexplicably lucky (strange how that word had worked its way into his vernacular through his prolonged Human exposure) and his biology would not be so predictable.

But Mestral could feel the thunder in his bones and the crawling across his skin. Where everything on this planet was once cool to discomfort, now it was all burning hot. The pon farr was upon him.

Mestral did his best to take care of his problem himself. He had undergone meticulous planning on how to best approach this particular and unfortunate biological inevitability. He purchased a sequestered cabin far away from any human towns, stocked up on all the food and comforts he could think he needed, and he had planned to hole himself up and meditate for as long as it took to break the rampant fever. He would turn his intent inward, he could destroy his cabin if he wished, but he was optimistic it would not come to that.

However carefully he planned, a single loose thread nagged at the back of his mind. What if he could not do it alone after all?

On his travels, he had met a great many interesting and kind person. Some were even extremely aesthetically pleasing. None, however, had come close to the same importance as the woman from Carbon Creek, Maggie. No matter how pleasing the company or how fantastic for his work a new human was, Maggie was often in Mestral’s thoughts. Was she well? How was her son, Jack? Was he excelling in college? He had often wished to see her, to give in to a weakness that nagged in his mind, and, more often, in his heart. Always, logic dictated to him that to revisit Carbon Creek was never a viable option.

But if all his best laid plans regarding his Pon Farr failed… if he was forced to take a Human mate… Maggie was always Mestral’s first and only thought.

Promising himself it was better “to be safe rather than sorry” Mestral settled himself in a cabin in the woods of Pennsylvania, near where he and his crew had first crashed. He was careful to avoid Carbon Creek, choosing to drive further to get his necessities rather than visit the town where he could very well be recognized. Then, he settled in to wait.

It was very nearly two Earth weeks before he broke.

Mestral agonized by his telephone, but the meditation and the thrashing had done little against the onslaught of millions of years of evolution. He was backed into a corner and forced to make a final and irreversible decision.

He wished he didn’t have to do this to her.

Mestral dialed the long since memorized number and held his breath. After a few rings he felt a distinct sense of relief when he heard her voice on the other side of the line, slightly curious.

“Hello?”

He wasn’t certain she would answer at the late hour, but he was eternally grateful. “Hello. Maggie. This is… it’s Mestral. I—” How could he even begin? Where could he start?

“Mestral.” His name fell flat in her voice, and he withered inside, just a little. “You know you have some nerve calling here after all this time.”

“I-I know,” he replied quickly. He had calculated for this, but hearing the hurt in her voice made it worse. Foolishly, he had hoped, it would be as though no time had passed. But of course, humans with their short and emotional lives, would not let such pain as he had caused live down easily. Mestral closed his eyes and pressed the receiver to his ear desperately, like the lifeline it was. “Margaret, there is nothing I can say—”

“You’re damn right!”

“—only offer my sincerest apologies for the hurt I have caused you. I… I would not have bothered you again if…if it wasn’t imperative. If…” If I wasn’t dying. Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and felt the fingers in his pocket curl into a fist. What could he do? How could he explain?

How would she react?

“Mestral…?” Maggie asked softly. The change in her tone was encouraging, but Mestral wondered if it would be enough.

“Margaret, I need your help. You…you’re the only person I can trust. Can…can we meet?”

Maggie was quiet for several heartbeats, then, “Yeah… Yeah, we can, Mestral. Where—”

“At your tavern. After closing. Please…It will be a strange request, but I ask that you do not tell anyone of my coming.”

“You’re scaring me, Mestral,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But if you’re in a bind, I’ll help if I can. It’s the decent thing to do, no matter what you did to me.”

“Thank you.”

The lights inside the tavern were still bright, but Mestral had watched the last patron exit ten minutes ago. He stayed back in an alleyway across the street, just in case some late caller had a change of mind. The last thing he wanted to risk was for anyone else to see him here again. Part of him very much doubted that any Human, by their vaguely careless natures, would notice how he had remained virtually unchanged in the last three years. The rest of him was too compromised by the plak tow to believe he was thinking clearly. He was taking enough risks as it was, being here at all. No need to “tempt fate,” as it were.

At one am sharp, his fedora pulled low over his forehead and the collar of his heavy wool trench coat pulled up against the chill, Mestral pulled on the handle to Maggie’s tavern.

The air was warm and the sharp smell of Human alcohol reached his nose. For a moment, the idea to get Maggie so intoxicated she might forget everything crossed his fever-addled mind. And was immediately dismissed. Mestral refused to hurt her ever again. He was here to prostrate before her and entrust her with the greatest secret he had and hopefully, hopefully, she would accept him as her mate.

Otherwise, he was about to make the largest mistake of his life. And perhaps the last one, if Maggie was unwilling to help him. Between revealing his true heritage or dying, it was quite obvious which was the preferred.

Maggie sat waiting for him at a small table near the center of the room. She looked up when he entered, and tired blue eyes glanced at the clock behind the bar. A small smile crossed her face, though Mestral couldn’t quite tell if it was sad or exhausted. Perhaps both.

“You were always a punctual one, weren’t you?” she asked, softly laughing to herself. “Not sure why I’m really surprised.”

Mestral nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. Even if his senses were not as acute as his female counterparts’, the Plak Tow made what he did have nearly unbearable. Maggie smelled sweet. He could nearly taste her on his tongue from here. He had not quite anticipated the heady roll of memories that assaulted him the moment he was back in this place. Too easily he remembered sitting at the bar with her, smelling her perfume as she walked by him to deliver drinks, the way her lips felt on his when he had kissed her goodbye all those nights ago.

He could barely remember why it had been logical at the time to have left her at all.

Maggie regarded him for three heartbeats and then scoffed to herself. She turned her face away from him, her hand coming to her mouth. “I’m a damn idiot, Mestral,” she said bitterly. She sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob and this confused him. He remained helplessly by the door, waiting for her to continue. “I thought I could stay mad at you. I told myself to just hear what you had to say and then send you on your way, but seeing you…” When she turned back to him, she was misty-eyed, but made no comment on her mental state. “It’s good to see you,” she said so quietly, Mestral was certain no Human could have heard it. “Sit down, will you?”

“Maggie, I—” How many times had Mestral gone over what exactly he would say. So many ways he had planned how to broach the subject, but she was right. Seeing her sitting there, so close and yet so undoubtably far before him… “It is good to see you too,” he replied. He moved deliberately, all too aware of the storm that brewed inside him. How easy it would be to destroy the back of the chair, to throw the furniture rather than sit in it. This world was not made for him, but selfish as he was, he sought to make himself a home here. He forced himself into everything.

Mestral closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Believe me, Maggie, that I had not really wanted to leave you. It was for—”

She shook her head violently and pressed her mouth together. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare, Mestral. Just…” She sighed. “Your coat. You must be burning up.”

“I am fine.” No, too harsh. “I appreciate your concern,” he added with more control. He was burning up, but coat or no, it would hardly matter. When he opened his eyes again, he sought her gaze. She put her hands out on the table between them, her intent clear. He stared at her fingers and gulped.

After a moment, she understood that he would not touch her, and Mestral hated the way her hands curled back into her body, the way the edges of her mouth set. “What is it that you need, Mestral? You sounded desperate on the telephone.”

Where to begin?

“If it’s money, I can do what I can, but you know what it was like here in the bar for me—”

“No, Maggie. I did not seek you out for monetary means. Nothing so…plain.”

She bit her lip and made no motion to speak.

“I… I would have a favor to ask you. And… it would be no simple task. In fact… it is almost unthinkable for me to request it of you, but I sincerely have no other choice. You must know that I have exhausted all other means.”

A crease appeared between her eyebrows and Mestral had to look away. The edges of the plak tow were making this painful. Such a monumental task not to shout his need at her without a care for her understanding. But he must hold firm. He must know a bond with him could be something she desired. She had seemed to desire it once, but three years was a lot of time for a Human and Mestral could make no assumptions.

“Just tell me, Mestral,” she said gently.

“I…will admit I do not know how to explain. There is no way to make my confession without it sounding…”

“Try me.” Again, she put her hand out, and again, he wished that he could allow himself to take it.

He drew his eyes away from her palm and focused on the chipped edge of the well-worn table.

“What do you know about Roswell?”

Maggie uttered a quick surprised bark of a laugh. “What?” she asked, incredulousness in her voice. “You mean…? What are you asking? About aliens?” She leaned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “Did you show back up on my doorstep just to tell me about cookey conspiracy theories? And to think I thought you were going to ask me something serious—”

“I assure you, Margaret, I am completely serious.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a heartbeat and sighed. “Sure. Roswell. Supposedly there were extraterrestrials that came to Earth to conquer us—or something—UFO’s and all that, but they were just stories. The guys here tell them when they get too drunk. Hell, Jack will tell me about them once in a while—subscribes to some trashy alien fan magazine that fills his head with drivel. All these tall tales and there hasn’t been any proof. So just what does this have to do with you?”

Everything. Mestral looked up at her disbelieving face and considered his words carefully. “Roswell and a few of the other isolated incidents were not founded entirely in fiction, Maggie. Some of them are true.”

She shook her head at him. “You came all this way, crawled out of God only knows where…just to talk to me about aliens… To think I thought you were different once—”

“I need your help!” Mestral cried over her. He balled his fists in his lap, and squeezed his eyes shut. “It is essential that you have a full understanding of me before I ever ask you for my favor. Roswell was real. The extraterrestrial race that landed there was one my people know as the Ferengi. And they are not the only other alien race out there. There are hundreds of thousands more across millions of galaxies. Space, the universe… is so incalculably vast, Margaret… You could not have truly believed that I, nor you, were ever alone in it.”

Such a logical argument, but her mouth remained a firm line. “So, there are aliens out there, according to you. Which is crazy—but fine. Say I buy that. Get to the part about you.”

Mestral stared at her hopelessly. This was neither going as smoothly nor as well as he had hoped. There was nothing gentle about his delivery, nothing light about what he had to say, and every moment longer he spent languishing was another moment he could feel his control slipping from him.

In all the fantasies about what he might say to Maggie, it had never been this way. Never shouted and never spoken so plainly. He had hoped for a kinder understanding. He had hoped for open arms, for the open heart that he had remembered her to have possessed. Rather foolishly, he now realized, as he stared despairingly at the years-dulled lacquer of the table top.

“I… I am one of them,” Mestral said softly. He peeked beneath his lashes to gauge her reaction, but there was nothing to gauge. With nothing else to do, he pressed on. “My colleagues and I. We were not from this world, nor any one nearby. We came here to-to study Humankind. Our races are so similar, yours and mine, and—We crashed. Outside of Carbon Creek. We stayed there for some time, but we were starving. And—”

”What?”

“We did not think we would ever be rescued, but then our distress beacon was found. T’Mir and Stron—they both returned to our planet with the rest of our people, but I—I elected to stay here on Earth—”

“You’re a—”

“I am an…” Mestral licked his lips. His heart beat frantically in his side. There was hardly any going back now. He’d come this far. And yet he considered reaching out and catching her neck in a nerve pinch and hoping that she would awake believing all of this to be some kind of dream.

But if he did such, he would die.

Maggie leapt from the table and took several shaky steps back. Mestral forced himself to remain seated. He put his hands up and hoped.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re some kind of a-a-a—a MARTIAN?”

He blinked. “A Vulcan.”

“A what?!”

“I am a Vulcan. Not a Martian. There are no such things as Martians.”

Maggie pressed a hand to her head and then pressed the other to her face too. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“No,” he replied quietly, staring at her intently as though if he took his eyes off her for a moment, she might disappear. “I am Vulcan. You asked me once why I always wore a hat when last I was here. This is why.”

She peeked through her fingers and watched as Mestral reached up with trembling hands and removed his fedora from his head.

He had relaxed on the Surakian look that nearly all his people adopted. It was easier to cut his longer hair himself, as visiting a Human barber was out of the question. There were certain advantages to keeping his hair longer as well. He could hide the tips of his ears the way Stron had done in his time here, but with the benefit of fewer people calling him “Moe.” Now, he revealed himself to Maggie, tucking his black hair behind his pointed ears and reflexively smoothing the front away from his forehead, as he had seen so many Human males do.

There was no fighting the nerves that swallowed him now as he stared up at Maggie, who’s face he could see, even behind her fingers, was crumpling in confusion and despair. She uttered a small squeak and waivered on her feet. Mestral half-rose, ready to catch her, should that be what she required, but she stepped further away from him. He froze. It occurred to him quite clearly that any movement he made now would mean the end of him. The end of this…whatever he had hoped it would be.

Lowering her hands, Maggie stared at him as if he was a different person. Her face was still stricken and pale, her mouth parted slightly but she wasn’t screaming or running. Mestral supposed he had to hope that counted for something.

“Your…” she said in a hushed voice. She took a step toward him and Mestral willed himself to be perfectly still, electing even to hold his breath lest he scare her away.

Her eyes jumped back and forth from his face, taking furtive glances at his ears as though she could offend him if she stared.

Please understand, he thought desperately. Please.

She came close to him. She raised a hand in front of her face. Mestral stared at her fingers. “M-may I…?”

Mestral clamped his jaw tightly. It was necessary. It had to be done. Control yourself! He gave Maggie a tight nod.

Slowly, her fingertips brushed the hair at his temple, and he closed his eyes, the muscles in his stomach going taut. Her skin blazed on his as Maggie touched him, tracing the shell of his ear and sending ripples of agonizing pleasure unwittingly throughout his body. Every nerve screamed at him. They shouted for their release, for the desire to grab her like some barbarian and find his end with her. Enough! they cried. To hell with patience! But Mestral was better than his base instincts. He had to believe he was.

He couldn’t tell how long or short a time the torture was. His skin sang long after hers had left him. Her smell filled his nostrils as he fought miserably for control of himself through a haze.

“—beautiful.”

He met her gaze again and was shocked to find her blue eyes on his face, looking over him wonderingly. “I always thought there was something strange about you, Mestral. It’s a little…validating to find out I was right.”

The tenderness in her face made him breathless. Mestral hardly dared to hope that perhaps this plan would work out after all.

“So…you’re an alien. And now you need…what? Asylum?” She smiled slightly. “I don’t know how much help I can be if you have a spaceship and everything.”

“I do not,” Mestral said hoarsely. “I committed to staying on Earth, and I was left with nothing. T’Mir and Stron took the wreckage of our ship, lest Humanity find it.”

Maggie nodded. “Okay. Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess. So…”

“My favor is not something to be asked about lightly. But as I have no way to return to Vulcan, and no hope of… There are certain…” Certain what? How could he possibly say it?

“Mestral,” she breathed, laying a hand on his chest. Perhaps mistakenly where she believed his heart could be. “If you are the only alien here… Are you…lonely?”

He looked down at her. Not quite the truth, but close enough. Perhaps if that was as close as an understanding as they could come to…

No. No, this was not enough. Mestral didn’t come all the way here and risk his exposure just to ease loneliness. And Maggie deserved to know everything, not be unwittingly tricked into bonding with him.

“I am…” He licked his lips. He could nearly taste her. “I am in need of… My kind, we must…take mates every seven years. I believed I could fight my nature but…”

Maggie’s eyes widened again.

“It was never my wish to leave you. But without my kinsmen, my anonymity here in Carbon Creek was limited, and I wished to travel to see more of your world. But when I felt the Pon Farr upon me—”

Maggie mouthed the unfamiliar words as he spoke.

“—my thoughts were only of you. There is no one else on this entire planet that I could possibly trust—”

“You…you came back just to have sex with me.”

Mestral shook his head. “No! Maggie, no. I-I came back to take—to ask you to be my mate. I can think of no other—”

She pushed him away with the hand on his chest, and though she could never hope to move him, Mestral stumbled back at her request. When she spoke, her voice shook with rage. “This was your request. Your favor??”

“Please understand—”

“Even men from other planets are all the same!!”

“No, Maggie—”

“You know, I guess I do owe you my thanks, Mestral. Thank you, at least for being so goddamn honest! If my ex-husband had been so upfront it would have saved me a lot of heartache!”

“Maggie, please!”

“You should go, Mestral! I am not some-some slut to-to-to—”

“Please, Maggie, I will die!”

Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. He staggered to the table and sagged his weight onto it. So much effort. It had taken so much effort to keep collected, but now his blood was pounding in his veins. His body threatened to shake itself apart, to rend his skin like tissue paper. He whimpered and then his legs gave beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor.

He hadn’t wanted to mention that final detail. It felt too much like pressuring. But as he saw his chance slipping away, he couldn’t keep the truth to himself anymore. His mind was hardly his own any longer. Maggie was truly his last and only hope.

“Mestral!” Maggie called from somewhere far off. Her voice seemed to carry sluggish and leaden as though through a dense fog.

“I would not have come, if it was not such a dire situation,” he wheezed, not entirely sure she could hear him. Perhaps the plak tow had driven him entirely mad and he was speaking to no one. “I wanted to protect you from anyone who could discover what I was. I wanted to… I—”

“Mestral…”

“I have a great admiration for you, Maggie. I…I owe you so much…”

He felt a pressure against his face and heat blossomed from his lips. The same heat that he had wistfully recalled over the previous three years.

Reality snapped into focus.

He was sprawled on the floor, his head in Maggie’s lap, and her lips; yes, her lips were pressed to his and he relished in the feel of her, the smell of her, the promise that lingered in the way her hands cradled his face. The blazing in his body screamed anew.

She broke their kiss and smoothed his hair away from his face, shaking her head. “I hate… I hate how I can’t let you go. I don’t know if what you’re saying is true or if you’re just… It doesn’t matter. I was so in love with you. I hate how I’m still in love with you…”

Mestral blinked up at her and raised a hand to touch her cheek. The feel of her skin sent a shock through him but he grit his teeth against the desire that uncurled in his chest. “Maggie…”

“Just…tell me what I need to do. T-To help you, I mean.”

He outstretched his fingers and Maggie followed suit. When all her fingertips touched his, he shuddered. He could hear her breath catch, feel her heart pick up its pace. The gnawing in his blood grew nearly to its boiling point.

“Parted from me…and never parted,” he murmured.

“Never and always touching and touched,” Maggie replied. Her eyes widened. “How—”

“We are becoming connected,” he breathed. “You can feel me as…as I feel you.”

She wanted to ask what that meant, and Mestral wanted very badly to tell her, but as his entire body shuddered violently, he could see he was out of time.

Mestral gulped. “I…we will only go as fast or as slow as you…”

Maggie smiled down at him. “I’m not a blushing virgin, Mestral. I know how this works. I was married once before, you know.”

Not like this, he thought, but he knew better than to say it.

He wanted so badly to kiss her. To reach out and drag her onto him, but he resisted. If he could do one thing right…if he could treat her the way she should have been treated all along…

Maggie licked her lips and looked at him resolutely. “Maybe that would be good for a… f-for a Vulcan woman but…” Her other hand smoothed over his hair and she stroked Mestral’s cheek with her thumb. He trembled under her touch and if he wasn’t already too weak to stand, he would have needed to use every ounce of his will to hold himself in place. “B-but I’m not a-a Vulcan woman, Mestral. I’m Human… and…and I just want to help you. Before it’s too late.”

Mestral realized she had heard his thoughts. It was happening so quickly with the fever. He nodded.

Gulping, Maggie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his and this time she eased her tongue into his mouth. She pulled her fingers away from his and stroked down his arm. Her own fingers shaking, she trailed them across his chest and down his abdomen. She hesitated at the waistband of his pants and then attempted to undo his belt with one hand.

“Maggie,” he said hoarsely between her kisses. Something tight and desperate like fear knotted itself up around his heart.

“I know that it’s probably…strange. But a penis is a penis, right? You can show me what you like later.” Freed of the belt and the button, Maggie’s hand plunged beneath his pants and when she grazed his length, he convulsed, his hips bucking and a strangled cry escaping his lips. She squeezed lightly and bright light exploded behind his eyes. Every inch of his skin was on fire. “Is… is it pretty much the same for…Vulcans?”

She thumbed across the double ridges of his head, catching the dorsal nerve as she went and Mestral’s back arched.

“I’ll just go ahead and take that as a yes,” she said breathlessly.

When she withdrew her hand, Mestral made a most undignified sound, but he understood when her hands flew to the hem of her dress and she started pulling off her undergarments. He tried to lift himself up to sitting but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She eased her legs out from under his head and lowered him completely to the floor, bending to kiss him again. Briefly. Then she straddled his hips and settled on top of him with a little shake of her own.

He groaned and gripped her thighs with his hands.

She was so fragile. He would have to be careful. But he didn’t know if he had that much control left in him.

Maggie bit her lip. Through her bare skin, Mestral could feel her trepidation. He wished he could give her more words of comfort—or any words at all for that matter, but he could not form anything comprehensible through the blood fever’s highest pitch. The only thing that he seemed to know was the ache that sprung from every part of him. All of him desperate for the relief that the press of Maggie’s body promised.

Fumbling fingers attempted to pull down his pants. Mestral obliged her by lifting his hips easily, even with her on top of him. She gave a little gasp, but she stabilized herself on his chest. His hands wandered up her thighs, revealing more pale skin to his hungry gaze. If he had any energy of his own…

Reaching around behind her back, Maggie groped for Mestral’s member. Her fingers running along the downy hair there sent him into frantic pants. He shook with anticipation for—there! She gripped his base and sent shudders and stars running though his body.

Her eyes were fixed on him. Determined. Resolute. He would have never known she was nervous if it wasn’t for her skin pressed to his.

Maggie rocked backwards and he felt his tip against something slick and hot. Tossing his head back, he keened through grit teeth and fought against the instinct to drive himself into her.

He couldn’t! He wouldn’t hurt her!

But all at once, Mestral was seized with pleasure as Maggie did her own driving. She was wet. And hot; so so blessedly warm. Like he never imagined. From far away he was dimly aware that Maggie had moaned, a lovely sound that melted him. Or it would have if he wasn’t already blistering.

She eased herself up and down, sliding over him, her hands planted firmly on his chest, his fingers digging into her flesh. Steadily, she rode him faster and he was blinded by colors so bright they all blended into white behind his eyes.

A meld. He needed a—

Mestral’s body convulsed and the tight strings that had wound in his stomach unfurled and snapped. He came in a high string of groans that would have been unacceptable for his Vulcan bondmate to hear. His new Human one, however, grinned with satisfaction and bent forward to press her lips over his cheeks, his nose.

It was like breaking a shackle that he hadn’t known he was wearing. Like coming up for air. His head cleared in an instant.

Mestral knew he was nowhere near finished, that there was still far more to this mating experience, but he could feel the strength returning to his limbs and a modicum of willpower returning to his mind.

He would no longer be a passive participant. Maggie deserved better. And he would make it up to her.

Grabbing his Human by her waist, Mestral rolled them over until he was poised on top of her. He watched the emotions play across Maggie’s face—shock, pleasure, delight—and he reveled in them.

He hitched the fabric of her dress up to her middle and noted how she gleefully undid the buttons at her neckline and freed her breasts for him. He heard her plea in his mind and bent to kiss her flesh the way she wanted, his tongue tasting her sweet skin. As his lips closed around her pert pink nipple, he thrust into her, and her cry of pleasure radiated down his spine with his own.

“Maggie,” he sighed as his hips found a rhythm with hers. “Maggie…”

She uncurled for him. He heard so much of her. Everything she said and all the more that she thought. She was open to him. Maggie was all his.

She came around him in a shuddering and delightfully human orgasm. The way her walls tightened and convulsed made him hiss and break through another of his own—another tie of Pon Farr snapped on the tavern floor.

His head felt clearer than it had in weeks.

“God, Mestral. God.”

The Vulcan cradled the woman to his chest and nuzzled his face into her neck. He breathed the scent of them both in and shivered.

“I still need you, Maggie,” he whispered.

She nodded, in a numb sort of way. He could feel through her skin that her mind was still fuzzy and reeling, but she was interested.

‘I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like that.’

Mestral blushed at her thoughts, but he was grateful the feeling was mutual. His fever was only somewhat lessened, and he was unsure if Maggie’s stamina could match his own. Who knew how much more he would need from her until his biological drive was sated?

“Bedroom?” Maggie panted as she attempted to wiggle her hips into his. “It’s been way too long. I don’t want to stop if you don’t.”

Mestral groaned and nodded into her neck. “I do not.” She whimpered as he eased himself out of her and got to his feet with her in his arms. Maggie told him the way without her having to utter a word.

‘Is he still gonna be here in the morning?’

He looked down at her. She watched him with glowing admiration, but there was sadness deep in her eyes. Sadness that he put there, he knew, but that he swore to himself to undo.

Mestral contemplated the ramifications of their actions here tonight while he climbed the stairs. Something big had changed for both of them, even if Maggie didn’t know the full extent of it yet. Whether she ultimately chose to keep him around when she found out, it didn’t matter just now. So far as Mestral was concerned, Maggie was his bondmate now, and he would do everything for her that that might entail here on Earth.

Anything. He would do anything she asked.

He lay her on her bed with care and she smiled up at him. She peeled off her dress and cast it aside and watched as Mestral shed his own coat and shirt and crawled on top of her.

Maggie’s fingertips traced the line of his jaw and along the shell of his ear. She lightly pinched the tip between her finger and her thumb and Mestral shivered. She grinned up at him. With her brown hair curled out over the pillow beneath her, she was a marvelous creature to behold.

‘Please, God. Let him stay this time…’

Mestral bent slowly and captured her lips in his. The soft movement of her, the pressure between them built and made his blood simmer again. His need pent in his body, winding up once more.

He broke the kiss and let his hand smooth up her arm until he clasped her hand in his own. “I will stay for as long as you want me,” he whispered against her lips.

“You really mean that?”

“Yes. I absolutely do. I am loathe to make the same mistake twice. I have not stopped thinking of you since we met, and I will not leave your side again unless you ask me to.”

She kissed him again. There was a certain finality to it that made Mestral warm.

“I’d have to be crazy to do something like that.”

#Star Trek #Star Trek: Enterprise #Ent #Mestral #Mestral x Maggie #IT"S FUCK OR DIE NIGHT #it's a lemon y'all #Fiend writes #Star Trek Bingo

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masked-buffoon · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: An oxidising world of a dream (Part 5)

Warnings: angst

Author notes: yes, I do consider that this part is heartbreaking enough to put angst as a warning... Do tell me if you think otherwise! (or another smart way to ask for feedback...)

I waited behind the door of the familiar infirmary, my arms crossed and my look focused onto the carpet beneath my feet. I had been ordered to stay there until Dazai came out, while he had sent men and Akutagawa to the art museum of Yokohama for a mission. If at first I had wondered if he was punishing me for my previous failure during the casino mission, I had soon realised that this raid to the museum was pointless, and clearly a trap Mimic had set for us. However, the squadron had been getting impatient, lately, and their desire to fight overcame any trace of reason their consciousness held. The most stupid of all had to be the "dog". He exposed himself to danger without further questioning, only to prove our superior he was worth his praises. He could not understand that the executive did not expect such things from him... And he would never listen to my advice.

"Odasaku is awake." The door opened behind me.

"It is good." I cracked a discreet smile "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Come in, and try to convince him." Dazai sighed "He wants to go and save Akutagawa..."

"Akutagawa...?" I narrowed my eyes, following him inside the infirmary "Well, he is an asset for the Mafia, after all... And you will not pretend you are ready to toss his power aside, will you?"

"So you agree, Ogawa?" Oda asked me upon seeing me.

"I am glad to see you are better, Oda." I smiled "And I do agree that helping Akutagawa out would be better. However... I could go myself. You have just woken up and many things occurred. You need to rest."

"Resting..." He hummed "I don't need it. I feel as though I owe someone, so I can't stay there doing nothing."

"Owing..." Dazai sighed "The one you owe doesn't even remember what he'd lent you..."

"But I do." He shrugged "Besides, it is absolutely out of question that you go, Ogawa."

"I have not been ordered not to go." I defended.

"Dazai, order her."

"Why would he...?" I frowned "I can —"

"A consequent amount of shops and warehouses of the Port Mafia has been bombed while Odasaku was asleep." My superior cut me "And you took care of every single case without my assistance. You too, need to rest."

"You'd rather send your sick friend off than your lieutenant...?" I argued, holding onto Oda's sleeve so he would not leave "I am your subordinate, I appreciate that you care about my safety but... It is my duty. Oda needs to rest, he was poisoned heavily and no matter how strong he is, he is still weakened from the —"

The executive grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to him, until my forehead rested onto his shoulder. The effects of No Longer Human were immediate; the thoughts of my surroundings faded away, and my eyelids felt heavy with the need to sleep.

"You can't..." I protested, trying to pull away but finding myself too weak to do so "You can't..."

"You haven't slept, the other night... I order you to rest now..." He said, rather softly.

"But your friend... He... Will..."

"Odasaku will be alright." He reassured me "I trust him, I know he will not put himself in danger."

I heard footsteps getting away and deduced the man had left. He had resolved himself to let Oda go... Fatigue took over and my knees buckled under my weight, brusquely. His arms wrapped around my waist to support me and my hands gripped onto Dazai's coat as I fought not to fall asleep just yet, but I could not deny my body needed to doze off, for at least a few hours. I hated being so useless...

"I... Am of no use to you..." I murmured, my voice muffled by his coat.

"Being exhausted makes you say idiotic things." He retorted, suddenly picking me up to lay me down on the bed "Why are you still trying not to fall asleep...?"

"I heard you... Praising Akutagawa..." I refused to let go of him "Even if he is dumb... He has power... Everyone... Around you is so strong... And I..."

"Stop saying things you know I have never thought about, Ogawa... Comparing you with Akutagawa is impossible, comparing you with Odasaku is unbelievable as well." Dazai stated.

"... Am I an incompetent...?"

"The one who said that must be blind."

"Akutagawa has a good sight..." I closed my eyes, but opened them before surrendering to sleep "I am... Incompetent... Unsuited to be by your side... I don't want to sleep and be useless..."

His hand landed onto my forehead, pushing my bangs away from my eyes and making contact with my skin.

"Being useless is the last thing I think about you..." He assured me "I'd appreciate it if you had some sleep before going back to work."

"I'll leave you alone..."

"I'll bring you to the office as soon as you close your eyes, then. I swear, so now, do not torment your mind with such thoughts anymore and only think about resting well, to assist me afterwards." He cracked a smile, clumsily running his hand across my head.

"Alright, then... If it is not a bother..." My eyelids fell and my body went numb.

"... How could that ever be a bother...?"

Dazai had gone out with Oda. The two had some business to take care about, and my superior had insisted for me not to go. After the incident at the art museum, Akutagawa had come back safely, as well as Oda, and the matter was settled within hours. I leaned my head onto the bay of the executive's office. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon for a moment now, leaving only the darkness and a few stars to light it up. I noticed it was a night without a moon, and did not like it. When the world was too immersed in shadows, nothing good would ever occur. I feared this night was ominous.

"Come back safe, Dazai..." I whispered, looking away from the lights of the town.

Humankind had always hated complete darkness. Electricity had allowed us to tame the night and its fictional monsters so we could prolong our day as much as possible. But whether it was under the sun or a neon light, we could never run away from our own shadows, and I liked to think the evilness laying still within us was the origin of our tales about the night. The true monsters often — not to say always — had a human face.

Slowly, I walked across the office to take my coat before exiting it, without forgetting to close the door behind me. It felt so lonely, being away from his side... Everything seemed completely worthless if Dazai was nowhere around me, as if the reason I could live had been taken away from me. In a way, I was aware of the dangerous truth; I depended on my superior as much as I was addicted to morphine, perhaps even more, and I could not imagine once that we could be apart. He had given me a reason to be in this world which had casted me away mercilessly, and striving to stay alive was a feeling I had just started to embrace. I could go as far as stating it was a glimpse of happiness I was experiencing... I wanted to cling onto it with my whole being, sometimes forgetting that nothing was more ephemeral than human joy. There was nothing which would not be lost... And I did not remember.

"Ogawa-kun...!"

I turned around upon hearing a voice calling my name. The second in command, Yamada-san... After how badly he had tried to take advantage of me, we had rarely interacted with each other. In front of Dazai, he acted friendly, but I knew he wanted to be ridden of me after I had humiliated him, the day I had killed my parents.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, poised.

"Actually..." He sighed "I have a pile of paperwork awaiting me, but... Today is my wife's and my anniversary so I did not want to go back late..."

"You are married...!" I exclaimed, astonished.

"I never wear my ring when in the headquarters... Not to trouble her, right? But I am. We even have the most adorable son." He smiled "I met her after that incident... I still can't apologise enough for that day."

"It is too late, now. But I can overlook it, for once."

For the first time, I felt sympathy toward this man I would usually be annoyed about.

"I'll take care of it for you." I smiled back "Please have fun."

"I'll make sure to." He nodded excitedly "Thanks a bunch, Ogawa-kun!"

A bunch...? Well... I watched his back walking away a moment before going into his office. The pile of paperwork was, indeed, a pile, threatening to wither and crash onto the ground at any moment, and I sighed heavily, bringing the documents to Dazai's office where I felt more comfortable. I had been supposed to wait for his return; he would kill me when he would discover I was working overtime... Oh, well... It had been a moment I had not had a warm cup of coffee, anyway.

It was well-past midnight when the door of the office opened. The headquarters were most likely empty, except for the Boss and a few guards doing their night shift. On this floor, this room was the only one where the light was still on. I smiled at my superior, who visibly did not expect seeing me there, and took a sip of my fifth cup of coffee.

"Welcome back, Dazai." I stood up to take his coat off of his shoulders.

"Ogawa...? No wonder you were not at your place..."

He had stopped by, thinking I was waiting for him...? I almost regretted stubbornly staying there to help the second in command out...

"Forgive me for not telling you beforehand..." I apologised "There was still work to do..."

"This is not your job." He stated, taking a look at the papers.

"He..." I paused, thinking I could not reveal the truth about the marriage "... Had important things to take care of."

"Important enough for you to comply?" Dazai raised his two eyebrows "He surely lied to you to leave and have a drink with his friends."

"... Is that so...? My, I'm so stupid..." I did not want to argue and attempted to avoid the subject "Thinking I could have easily read his thoughts..."

"Whatever you are hiding, I'm not going to ask about it if you don't want to talk about it..." He sighed, resigned, and let himself fall onto a couch "To think you'd help him after what he has done to you... That disgusting jerk..."

I was dumb to think he would not find out I was lying...

"You seem especially exhausted, tonight." I noted, taking a seat in front of him "What happened...?"

"Nothing." He dodged the matter "Do you still have a lot to do?"

"There isn't much left..." I told him "I'll hurry so you can cancel my ability and have some sleep yourself."

"Please, do so..." He grumbled lowly.

I sat back at his desk and started reading the different reports. Dazai was not usually so grumpy and tired. Definitely, something was wrong about him, but I knew better than asking him directly. If only I could read his thoughts... I would have been able to tell what bothered him.

Minutes after, his breathing was regular, and I looked up at him, only to see he was gone in deep slumber. Soundlessly, I took his coat from the hanger and draped it over his body to protect him from the cold. Summer had installed itself in Japan, but the nights were still chilly, especially in an office freshened up by air conditioning. Many people had a peaceful face when sleeping, but he... He did not look appeased at all. On the contrary, it appeared sleeping brought his own monsters to the surface of his consciousness and tormented him... I decided not to do anything, judging he, no matter what, did need a good night of rest too. And if nightmares disturbed him, I would act accordingly to the situation. He had often made sure I was sleeping correctly before leaving — I could have felt it — so it was my turn to protect his rest.

I stared at him, leaning my chin onto the back of my hand. He had not budged at all and my paperwork had long been over. I did not believe Dazai could sleep so well; he was more the type to suffer from insomnia. I often wondered, when waking up, what he had been up to during the night. After granting me sleep, did he go back to his impersonal apartment? Or did he wander around Yokohama to have a few drinks? Did he bring women back to his place? The thought coated my cheeks in red and I quickly banned it from my mind. Whatever he did, I was certain he did not get much sleep. I shut off the lights, only to turn on the small lamp on the desk. The sieved light was more relaxing than the main one, and it bathed the room in a comfortable atmosphere. While my superior was soundly asleep, I took a random book from the shelf and started reading it. How to prevent accidental casualties. So this book did exist and he had truly read it. He had not lied, the other day... I felt bad for doubting him, but one had to admit discerning between his acts and his true words was a challenge. When was he serious and when was he playing around? Oda easily understood the shifts in the mood, but I... No, I could not think about his friend anymore. I always ended up frustrated when looking up to this amazing person. I had embarrassingly ranted about my uselessness again, earlier, I could not afford to ridicule myself anymore. I did not want him to look at me like a pitiful thing...

Suddenly, the coat fell from Dazai and landed onto the floor with a muffled noise. I put the book aside to readjust it over his body, but, as I did so, he forcefully grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. His one eye was wide opened onto me.

"D-Dazai, you are going to cancel my ability..." I broke the silence, trying to free myself from his grip.

"... Isn't that what I am supposed to do...?" He asked, rather tiredly.

"You fell asleep, I was not going to take advantage of your ability while you were defenceless..." I said "Well, that's what I thought, but you are actually always vigilant about your surroundings..."

"Obviously..." He let me go to rub his face "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Two to three hours, roughly. You should close your eyes again; you were resting so well..."

"What about you? Are you done?"

"I am, don't worry..."

"Then, let's —"

I gently pushed him back to the couch and put his coat back onto him with a slight smile.

"I had some sleep in the afternoon... It's your turn, Dazai..." I declared.

"But your ability... Won't it be a bother?"

"I'll be fine, just think about yourself... Please rest. There are people counting on you to lead them tomorrow..." I told him.

His expression was unreadable, but he adjusted his position so he would be laying on the couch instead of sleeping in a sitting position. His fingers held onto his coat and brought it around his upper body, as though he felt cold, and his eyes closed.

"Goodnight..." I whispered.

"I saw Ango, tonight. We went to the bar." He interrupted my moves.

"Dazai, you should —"

"He was an undercover agent for the government, you know...? And a spy in Mimic for the Port Mafia too..." He chuckled, a bit bitterly "He betrayed us... He betrayed me..."

"I'm sorry..." I had no clue what to say "The three of you were so close as friends..."

"... Come there a bit..." He demanded.

I decided to sit down on the edge of the couch.

"I lost him..." He finally muttered, his voice muffled by the heavy black cloth "I lost Ango... I lost our friendship... I said I was prepared to lose everything I once owned... But I'm not... His loss left a hole somewhere in me... I don't know how to fill it... Am I not pathetic, showing you such a sight...?"

"Not at all..." I hesitatingly patted his shoulder "If anything, I am glad that you could tell me such a thing..."

"You are there... Odasaku is still there too, but for some reasons, I feel so lonely..." He confessed.

What could I do or say to soothe his pain? I did not know... I did not want to pretend I understood the gap he experienced, nor could I come up with classic lines; Dazai did not need them. Dazai did not want me to say "don't worry."

"... I'll always be there..." I reminded him.

But I was not enough.

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Text

I Would Never

Bry and Jonas took the “off-track” prompt @greyias sent me and ran away with it to the tune of 3.5k words. :D I apologize for nothing, I’ve missed these two. Set in my canon with Vica as Alliance Commander where Bry joined up somewhere during the KotXXs. (Vica, btw, is pronounced Vee-kah)

---

Vica looked frazzled.

It was an unusual enough sight it took a minute to register when Briyoni passed by a conference room and noted her sister inside. She didn’t know Jedi were allowed to look anything other then calm, serene, put-together, and on top of things at all times. (Which, she thought with a smirk, would’ve ruled Shan right out if the lack of a Force connection hadn’t done it.) It was enough of an oddity to make her backtrack a couple paces and lean against the doorway.

“Need help, Vic?” she asked with a grin as she crossed her arms.

Vica’s head came up, loose bits of hair dancing in front of her eyes, and she blinked as she shifted focus from her trio of datapads to Bry’s face. “No, it’s...” She wrinkled her nose and smoothed back the loose hair. “Thank you for offering, I do appreciate it, but’s nothing a little... creativity with assignments can’t fix.”

“You sure?” Bry arched a brow. “‘Cause not even worrying your boyfriend had turned traitor visibly broke that whole Jedi Serenity” --she waved a hand in a vague gesture-- “but this sure has.”

Vica rolled her eyes a little at Bry’s opening word choice but didn’t take the bait. “I’m sure. It’s-”

One of the datapads let out an angry squawk and she blanched when she looked at the screen.

“Oh, come on, really?” she groaned, sinking back into her chair.

Bry pushed off the wall and strode over. “What?”

“Two of the perimeter sensors went down,” Vica said with a sigh, nudging the datapad so Bry could see. “It’s probably just surge or something related to the security upgrade Theron and Lana talked me into doing, but on the off-chance it’s not...” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And all the maintenance staff are working on the upgrades, and if it is dangerous-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Bry cut her off. “Haven’t had anything to do for awhile, and even if it’s nothing exciting, it’s a couple hours’ speeder ride. That part’ll be fun.”

Vica didn’t even protest, relief flickering in her eyes.”Take someone with you. Just in case.”

“Sure.” Bry grinned. “Maybe I’ll take your spy boy; make sure he knows what’ll happen if he even thinks about doing something that would hurt you again.”

“Briyoni, if there was any risk of that, I wouldn’t have married him,” Vica said tartly. “Anyway, you can’t take him; we have a meeting--”

“Sure ya do,” Bry teased, waggling her brows.

Vica shot her a withering look. “With Admiral Aygo and General Daeruun.” She toyed with another of the datapad and smiled mischievously. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather take your spy boy than mine?”

“Always, but he’s not he-” Bry narrowed her eyes. “What do you know that I don’t, Commander?”

Vica handed her the datapad. “The Republic delegation that arrived less than an hour ago.”

Bry’s heart leapt and she couldn’t keep from grinning when she found his name halfway down the list. “And he didn’t come find me? I’m hurt.”

“This is business, Briyoni,” Vica sighed.

“Stars, I know that,” Bry said with a laugh as she set down the datapad. “I’m teasin’, Vic. But I have always been a fan of mixing a little pleasure in there, so I’m gonna go find my husband, borrow a speeder bike, and we’ll take care of those sensors and be back in a few hours.”

“Be careful,” Vica called after her. “And try to bring the bike back relatively undamaged?”

“Do my best,” Bry returned in a sing-song and headed for the cantina.

---

Despite being, historically, the most likely place to find Jonas, there was neither hide nor hair of him in the cantina. More than a little surprised, Bry widened her search until she finally found him in the military hanger, perched at one end of a stack of smaller shipping crates and frowning at the datapad in his hands.

Bry sauntered up behind him and leaned against one of the crates so she could look over his shoulder. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Jonas only slightly flinched as his gaze shot up from the datapad. He was grinning even before they made eye contact. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself, handsome.” She smirked. “I’m trying to decide how offended I am that I rank below datawork.”

“You’ve got that backwards, Bry,” Jonas countered, still grinning. “I’m getting the boring stuff out of the way first, so it’s not an interruption later. ‘Sides, you know how bureaucrats are about their datawork.”

“Nice save,” Bry chuckled, leaning over to give him an upside-down kiss. “If you want something other than datawork to do...” she waited til he arched a brow to continue. “...how does checking a couple perimeter sensors sound?”

Jonas wrinkled his nose. “’Bout as boring as th-”

“With me,” she elaborated, and couldn’t help snickering when his eyes lit up as he pushed to his feet.

“Well, that changes things,” he said, winking and leaning in for another kiss.

“Thought it might,” Bry said with a laugh as her fingers dug into his hair at the back of his neck. “You able to leave now, or need a few more minutes?”

“Oh, I’m all set,” he said, remaining a mere inch or two from her after pulling back from the kiss. “I was just about done.” He reached done without looking and tapped a key. “There. I’m all yours, gorgeous.”

“Mm, just what I like to hear,” Bry said playfully. She kissed the tip of his nose before stepping back. “I’m flying.”

A smirk pulled at Jonas’ lips. “In that case, I’ll need to update my will before we leave...”

She crossed her arms and stuck out one hip as she arched a brow. “You callin’ me a bad pilot, Jo?”

“I would never,” he said, tone dripping with mock offense, and placed a hand to his chest. “It’s just that you have a vastly different opinion than the rest of the galaxy what qualifies as safe parameters for piloting a speeder bike.”

“Blame it on my swoop racing youth,” Bry snarked, grinning at him. “B’sides, I thought you liked that I’m fast.”

Jonas rolled his eyes but chuckled. “That only applies to some things, gorgeous. Others it just makes me worry.”

“You don’t need to,” Bry said with a shrug, still grinning. “I’m real good.” And real lucky, she added to herself.

His eyes went serious for a minute even if his tone was still teasing. “Y’know, one day that bravado’s gonna catch up to you, Bry.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “‘Til that day comes, though, I’m flying.” She winked at him. “Look at it as me giving you an excuse to hold on even tighter.”

Jonas snorted and draped an arm around her shoulders as they headed out of the hanger. “When have I ever needed an excuse for that?”

---

All snark and bravado aside, Jonas’ arms stayed wrapped tight around Bry’s middle the whole way to the first sensor. He squeezed even tighter every time she didn’t slow down enough for a turn, or goosed the throttle for sections with a clear line of sight. Were it not for the wind tearing past, Bry was pretty sure she’d have felt his heartbeat pounding against her back. She took pity on him somewhere past the halfway mark and dropped their speed to something closer to generally acceptable levels.

They still reached the first sensor in far less time than your average pilot. Her own heart pounding from the glorious adrenaline rush, Bry hopped off the speeder soon as Jonas loosened his grip on her waist.

She tried--unsuccessfully--to bury her smirk when it took a few seconds for him to follow.

“You better not be laughing at me,” Jonas grumbled, but she could hear the (reluctant) smile in his voice.

“I would never.” She didn’t even bother trying to sound hurt; he wouldn’t buy it.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” he snorted. “Just like Jo wasn’t going to turn into a casual nickname, and we were going to save that bottle of Corellian whiskey for something special-”

“Hey, that was special,” Bry cut him off, wheeling around with a grin.

“Not that bottle,” Jonas smirked. “That was absolutely pretty damn special. The replacement.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose as she backed into the sensor. “You mean the one I broke?”

“Against the wall,” he elaborated for her. “Yes, that one.”

“Hey, I was righteously pissed on your behalf, handsome,” Bry shrugged, but couldn’t keep a sheepish edge out of her smile. “I can replace it; Vica’s gotta have somethin’ comparable floatin’ around that big fancy base of hers...”

“I’ll hold you to that, but one thing at a time, gorgeous,” Jonas said with a chuckle. “Don’t we have a job to do first?”

“Right.” Bry turned from the banter to start prying off the maintenance panel for the sensor array.

Just as Vica had guessed, a surge had overloaded the dampeners and fried a pair of power conduits. It was a relatively easy fix, and Bry plunked down on a rock to get to it.

“Anything serious?” Jonas asked, leaning against the waist high casing to watch her work.

“Nah.” Bry raked her hair out of her eyes and glanced up at him. “Just gotta replace a couple wires. It’s a simple enough repair I can handle it; nothing serious.”

And it was. Fifteen minutes later she was flicking the sensor’s power on and sliding the maintenance panel back into place. She accepted the hand up Jonas offered, deliberately didn’t compensate momentum for the help so she stumbled into his chest.

“Oops,” she said with a wink as his arms settled around her back.

He laughed and stole a kiss. “Subtlety's never been your strong suit, Bry.”

“Never seen a point,” Bry countered impishly.She patted her hand against his chest and reluctantly stepped back. “C’mon, we have another sensor to check.”

After a last check that the sensor was functioning properly, the two of them mounted the speeder bike again. Bry barely waited for Jonas’ arms to settle around her waist before she gunned it and sent them rocketing forward along the planned path to sensor number two.

Jonas’ grip stiffened and she laughed as she backed off the speed ever so slightly.

“Sorry, Jo,” she hollered, hoping he could ear her over the wind.

He squeezed briefly tighter before his grip slacked to be more bearable, which she hoped meant apology accepted.

At least the slower pace meant she could risk occasional glances at the nav holo hanging between the speeder’s control grips. Another smile tugged Bry’s lips, though not of the ‘messing with my husband’ variety this time. When.the canyon they were following split, she went left.

“Get your left and right mixed up?” Jonas asked over the thrum of the speeder’s engine and wind in their ears.

“No, this way’s-”

“A shortcut?” he interrupted drolly.

“More fun,” she corrected with a grin.

Ahead of them, the canyon widened and the open space was dotted with rock pillars that rose to dizzying heights. She knew the exact moment the terrain and her comment clicked together in Jonas’ head because he pressed himself even closer against her back before she started throttling back up.

While the speeder wasn’t as versatile as some she’d flown, it handled well enough as Bry set it zigzagging between the pillars. Just as they approached the end of the route, she spotted a side cut. Quick glance at the nav holo showed that while it lead to a snarled maze of narrow canyons, it could be followed to their destination. She turned down it without hesitation--Jonas didn’t even protest this time--and cut her speed enough to make repeated glances at the holomap less dangerous. It still took quick reflexes to pick out the route they needed and make the turns in time.

A quarter of the way in was when she stopped trying to keep track of them, just let her instincts carry them forward.

Halfway in was when everything but the speeder’s engine quit working. Comms, the map, everything.

Running off adrenaline, Bry followed her gut through the next couple turns until they reached a clearing that seemed a safe enough place to stop. They sat on the speeder, both silent for the moment, the only sound the idling engine echoing off the canyon walls.

“Don’t suppose you know the way out of here?” Jonas finally said glibly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Bry braced her wrists against the control grips and leaned forward slightly. “Not off the top of my head, no.”

“And I suppose it’s too much to hope you remember the way back?”

“I thought memorizing that was your job,” she teased. “I was too focused on not running into things or going down a dead end.”

“Fair. Maybe we should have clarified responsibilities before you went veering down the fun route....” he teased right back, hands sliding off her waist.

Bry chuckled, turning to face him and leaning against the control grips. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Oh, you think there’ll be a next time, huh?” Jonas’ eyes were laughing as he tried to look annoyed. (He may have also been that, too, but it was hardly his primary mood, she could tell.)

“Sure there will,” she said coyly. “You never have been good at telling me no.” Her weight shifted just enough with the attempt to look smug and seductive she started to slide into the gap between the grips.

Jonas let out an actual laugh as he grabbed her arm. “You got me there,” he admitted. “You alright?”

“Only damage is to my dignity,” Bry said with a huff of sheepish laughter as she righted herself.

“And that was a lost cause anyway,” he needled with a grin.

She pushed him off the speeder.

And remembered too late that he was holding her arm. Fortunately it wasn’t far to the ground, and she landed on top of him, so that softened her landing, at least.

“Ow,” Jonas groaned, then smirked at her. “Least the view’s good.”

Bry half-heartedly slapped his arm as she rolled off to sit next to him, a seat she only kept for a few seconds before pushing to her feet so she could power down the speeder. No sense wasting fuel. She offered Jonas a hand up, which he took. She was more than a little surprised when he caught his balance once upright instead of letting himself run into her. She’d kind of been expecting payback. “Not going to try and knock me off my feet, Agent Balkar?”

“Colonel Nerai, I would never.” His eyes twinkled over the solemn tone and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, one of us has to be the bigger person.”

Bry arched a brow. “Mmhm. Well, Mr. Bigger-Person, any guesses what happened?”

Jonas thought for a minute, running his thumb contemplatively along his lower lip. “Are we far enough from the base for it to cause problems?”

She shook her head. “Don’t think so, they have a hell of a long range.Besides, the holo’s a separate function; distance wouldn’t kill that.”

“Right...Something wrong with the speeder?”

Another shake of her head as she leaned against the side of the bike. “Would have knocked out the engine, too, wouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily...” Jonas pointed out, leaning against the speeder next to her. “Not if it’s electronics, that wouldn’t affect the mechanical aspects.”

“Wouldn’t affect the comms, either,” Bry sighed, dragging the toe of her boot through the dirt.

He tipped his head in silent concession before lifting his gaze to scan the surrounding cliffs. “What about the canyon?”

“Can’t rule it out,” Bry said thoughtfully. “Not deep enough to be blocking signals, but depending on the rock composition, that could mess with things...”

“Well, in that case, wouldn’t we just need to backtrack out of radius for things to work again?”

She huffed a sigh through her nose and watched a makrin amble along nearby. “Yeah, except I made... at least three turns after things went down, and those I was definitely too focused on not running into things to remember which way I went.”

“So...” Jonas turned to look at her and arched a brow. “We’re lost.”

“Yep,” Bry confirmed, then flashed a cheesy grin. “At least we couldn’t ask for better company, right?”

He laughed. “And it’s a really good way to get some time alone together.”

“Durasteel clad,” she said cheerfully.

“So perfect no one will believe it wasn’t on purpose,” he pointed out.

“Eh, speeder logs’ll back us up,” Bry countered, sidling closer. “And we are going to work on finding our way out...” She pivoted from where their sides now pressed together so they were chest to chest, Jonas caught between her and the bike. “Eventually.”

“But why waste an opportunity that’s been dropped in our laps?” he supplied with a chuckle as his hands settled on her hips.

“Exactly,” she grinned. “Knew you were smart, s’why I married you.”

“And here I thought it was because I’m roguishly handsome and ridiculously charming,” he deadpanned as her fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket and he leaned closer.

“Those were also factors,” Bry murmured in concession, and tugged him the final inch or so into a kiss.

By the time they got around to finding their way out, neither would have considered this a wasted opportunity.

---

It took an hour or two of trial and error with all the turn-offs, and more than one dead end, but the comms and nav holo did eventually prove Bry’s theory correct and fizzle back to life.

Just in time for an intensely worried “...riyoni?!” to crackle into her ear.

Bry arched both brows at Jonas as she answered. “Yeah, Vic?”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Vica’s voice swirled through the comm in a rush. “I’ve been trying to check in for... half an hour. What happened?”

“We, uh, ran into some technical difficulties exploring an alternate route,” Bry said. “There’s a section of canyon down here, fuzzed out comms and the map.” Silence answered for a long enough stretch to make her frown. “Vica?”

“I think I know where you’re talking about,” her sister said flatly. “Are you out of there?”

“Yeah...”Her frown pulled deeper.

“Good. Don’t go back.” There was a faint tension in Vica’s tone, of the ‘pfassk I don’t want to talk about’ variety, so Bry didn’t press.

“Yes, ma’am, Commander, ma’am,” she said instead, glibly as possible.

The desired snort of almost-laughter came back. “Finish your job, Briyoni.”

“That’s the plan. Get back on track, fix the sensor, be on our way home. See you in an hour or so, Vic.”

“See you then,” Vica confirmed, and the comm went silent.

“Well, now we’ve got my sister worrying about us, so no more distractions or detours,” Bry said to Jonas, running her fingers through her hair to check for forest detritus.

“You must be heartbroken,” he deadpanned.

“Absolutely crushed I have to behave myself,” she confirmed, kicking the bike up to a more fun speed. At least until we’re back at base...

They reached the second sensor without incident, found the same issue as the first--though this one bore claw marks from curious or hungry wildlife--and had it fixed up easily.

“All done and headin’ home,” Bry reported over comms.

“Good to know, see you soon,” Vica replied. “Thank you for taking care of this.”

“Not a problem.” She signed off and looked at Jonas. “Think we’ll manage to steal some time once we’re back?”

“We can but try,” he returned with a chuckle, kissing her forehead.

With that incentive hanging in the air, Bry put on extra speed for the ride back. Jonas maintained a death grip on her waist the whole way, and she wasn’t sure if the smile tugging her lips was from that or the adrenaline rush of flying.

“i think you gave me bruises, Jo,” she needled playfully when they stopped and he finally let go of her.

“I’ll just have to kiss them better,” he retorted, kissing the back of her head.

“No bruises there, handsome,” Bry giggled as she dismounted the speeder.

He slipped off right behind her and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Really? That’s surprising.”

She refused to give him the satisfaction of making her blush, but she did bite her lip. “Shouldn’t be; you know I’m tougher than that,” she whispered back with a wink.

Jonas chuckled and hung a couple paces behind her as she checked the speeder bike back in. When that was done, she turned to find him looking at her with a smirk pulling one corner of his mouth upward.

“What?” she laughed.

Jonas shook his head slightly and stepped closer. “Whatever my opinion of you preferred flying style, I do have to admit this is a good look for you.”

Bry snorted and raked her fingers through her tousled hair. “Windblown?”

“Happy,” he corrected with a laugh, and pulled her in for a kiss she savored probably longer than she should’ve.

“I need to tell Vic we’re back,” she murmured, reluctantly stepping away. “Meet you in the cantina when I”m done?”

Jonas nodded and lightly tapped her nose “Don’t dilly-dally, gorgeous.”

“With you waiting for me, Jo?” Bry grinned. “I would never.”

#queens fic #nonverbal prompts #briyoni nerai #jonas balkar #vica nerai #otp: better company #brykar #i'm real tempted to write vica's side of this... (mis)adventure #not in the least bc it would mean actually getting to write her and theron :3 #but YAY that was the last nonverbal prompt

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linneawritesstories · 4 years

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This is a repost of a story I posted previously in a different format.

“If you treat creatures kindly they will return the favor.” He watched as his teacher reached out to the dragon. His breath rushed out when the creature’s aggressive scales gently tapped her palm. “No one really wishes to be cruel.”

- @givethispromptatry

There was a dragon in the hills on the outskirts of Kingsbury, and Jarrod was going to kill it.

Not that he was a knight. Oh, no. Jarrod was a Spellcaster and apprenticed to Kingsbury’s resident Spellcaster. His teacher, Leona, said that he had promise and might even be as powerful as her one day. That was high praise from the best Spellcaster in the three kingdoms.

Of course, his teacher also said that power was useless without skill, and that he had a long way to go in that area.

Jarrod first heard of the dragon when a group of townspeople came to visit Leona after dinner one night. Leona sent him to the kitchen to wash dishes so that they could speak to her privately, but Jarrod left the kitchen door open so he could listen. According to what Jarrod heard, the dragon took residence in the hills sometime in the last fortnight. Since then, the surrounding villages lived in terror whenever the dragon flew overhead to hunt. The dragon was huge and red, they said, and local farmers and ranchers had found mangled livestock in their fields in the mornings.

Delegations were sent to the King to request aid, but so far had proved fruitless. He was preoccupied with the war with Clendyne to the south and wasn’t concerned with a dragon terrorizing small farming communities.

Please, the townspeople begged. Spellcaster Leona, please slay the dragon for us.

But she refused.

Continue reading below or on my official website.

Jarrod could not understand his teacher. She possessed more than enough power to slay a dragon. Had they not travelled to the north coast last summer, where she slew a krakken? The bards still sang songs about it, and would continue to long after her death. Jarrod could only dream of that level of fame.

Part of Jarrod’s studies was reading about magical creatures. He could tell you about mischievous mermaids and the tricksy Fair Folk. He knew how to defend against vampires and werewolves. He knew that dragons were big, with razor-edged scales tougher than any man-made armour. They spewed fire and some could even summon lightning. But perhaps the greatest danger was that they were resistant to magic.

When Jarrod asked his teacher why she would not aid the townspeople, she told him that the dragon had not caused any harm. No harm! It was terrifying people and butchering livestock. It had to be stopped.

If Leona, Spellcaster Extraordinaire, would not do it, then her apprentice would.

She would be furious if she caught him, so Jarrod waited until she was asleep before creeping across the landing and down the stairs of their little cottage. (That was another thing he didn’t understand. She was renowned and beloved. She could live anywhere and earn piles of gold, but she chose to live in the middle of nowhere in a tiny two-bedroom house). His feet avoided the creaky floorboards with the ease of long practice and he made his way into the kitchen.

Some bread, some cheese, some cured ham. That should be enough for the walk to the dragon’s lair and back again. It wasn’t far on horseback, but he didn’t dare borrow his teacher’s prize mare without asking her. She would skin him alive, or worse, ship him back to his parents in Delphany.

He did not want to return to his parents. They loved him and wrote to him and still called him their daughter.

The front door squeaked when he pushed it open. He froze and held his breath as he listened. But there was no sound of footsteps, and his teacher did not call his name. He stepped onto the stoop and eased the door closed. The latch settled with a click, but he ran down the road without waiting to hear if the sound woke Leona.

The walk was long and tedious. Leona had one lantern, and Jarrod hadn’t dared take it in case she got up to wander in the middle of the night as she was apt to and noticed its absence. But he was a Spellcaster, so he pooled his magic in his hand to create a light bright enough to illuminate the path ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure where the dragon built its lair, but he knew he was on the right track when bones crunched on the path under his boots. He followed the scattered bones up the hillside. The climb got steeper and steeper, until he found the opening of the dragon’s lair.

A burrow had been dug in the side of the hill, recent enough that the black mounds of dirt that were pushed aside were beginning to sprout grass and wildflowers. Jarrod gulped. The darkness in the burrow was impenetrable. His light did not illuminate the far side. There was no sound or movement from within, and Jarrod couldn’t guess how deep it went.

Going inside would be suicide, but Jarrod wasn’t sure what else to do. Wait here for the dragon to pass by? That would be silly. So he gathered his courage and called out, “Hey! Dragon!”

His voice echoed off the sides of the lair. The sun began to rise in a thin red and gold line that broke the horizon. Leona got up with the dawn. She would realize he was missing soon, and he wanted the dragon to be slain before she did.

He wanted her to be proud of him.

The sound of wingbeats made him look up. It was the dragon, descending from the sky toward him. It was coming fast!

The dragon was red as the rising sun, as he had heard. Jarrod’s best element was fire while water was his weakest, which made him a poor match for a dragon. Still, he chanted the incantation for his best fire spell as the dragon came within range.

Fire blasted from his hands and surrounded the dragon in a great ball. The dragon cried out once in surprise before the fire blew off it as though it were nothing.

Jarrod had no time to cast another spell before the dragon was upon. The earth shook under Jarrod’s feet from the dragon weight and the force of impact as it landed. The dragon was three times his height, and its barbed tail swished back and forth like an angry cat. It batted at Jarrod with a paw. Each toe was tipped with claws as long as Jarrod’s forearm. He had an instant to think that he was done for before the ground in front of him exploded upward.

The rolling earth knocked the dragon off balance. Leona took advantage of the distraction to plant her body between her apprentice and the dragon. Her dreadlocks blew back as the dragon regained its footing and roared, a sound of such power and fury that Jarrod cowered behind his teacher.

To Jarrod’s astonishment, his teacher bowed to the dragon. “Forgive me, Friend, for the behaviour of my apprentice,” she said, and her tone was both respect to the dragon and muted scolding for Jarrod. He withered a little - he knew that he could expect a tongue-lashing later.

But he had to stand up for himself. He was trying to do good! He was trying to help people, and make his teacher proud! “But Master, the townspeople said that the dragon was killing their animals. They’re afraid. I just wanted to-”

He stopped short when she fixed a look of muted fury on him with one brown eye. “And because something is frightening to others, that means it deserves to die?”

He knew what she meant. People who didn’t know her often found her tattoos and piercings, scars and dark skin scary. “No, but they said-”

“And did any of them say that they saw the dragon kill their animals?” She straightened from her bow and approached the dragon, which had stopped hissing and waving its tail. It stood still as she held out a hand to it, palm outward. “Dragons don’t eat livestock, fool. They know it draws negative attention from humans. It was most likely the mountain lion that air-headed mayor kept as a pet and released when it ate his dog.”

Jarrod opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had heard the gossip about the mayor’s mountain lion, both when the man first acquired it and again when he claimed it had “escaped”. The townspeople kept their children indoors for a week because they were terrified the mountain lion would eat them. The timing matched up. But.

“It attacked me,” he said, stubborn.

Leona’s shoulders rose and fell in an aggrieved sigh, but she did not look away from the dragon. “Of course it did. Here you are, about to invade his home. And who struck the first blow?”

He had no response to that.

“Is it a crime to defend your home? That’s what you meant to do by coming here. As for the townspeople, they don’t understand the mystical creatures of the world. They don’t even understand Spellcasters like you and me, though they’re happy to make use of us.” The dragon watched her and made no move to attack as she approached. “If you treat creatures kindly, they will return the favour.” He watched as his teacher reached out to the dragon. The dragon leaned forward, and Jarrod inhaled sharply, certain it was going to breathe a gust of fire and burn his master to ashes.

His breath rushed out when the creature’s sharp scales tapped her palm. “No one wishes to be cruel.” Leona rubbed the dragon’s nose. “What a beautiful colour you are! I haven’t seen a dragon as red as you since I left my homeland. The ones around here tend to be more blue or purple. My name is Leona, and I am the Spellcaster around here. May I be privileged enough to know your name?”

Although her back was to him, Jarrod could tell she was smiling from the tone of her voice. His stomach twisted that she seemed to appreciate this big brute of a creature when he had tried for a year to get her to care for him as something other than a nuisance that broke into her home and refused to leave without mastery of Spellcasting.

The dragon pulled away from Leona’s hand. Jarrod tensed, certain that this time it really would tear her to ribbons, but instead it took two steps back. Its shape swirled and shifted. Jarrod watched with open-mouthed fascination as its outline shrank and formed into something more familiar.

The dragon was now a young man, his skin as dark as Leona’s own. His hair was in a multitude of tiny braids the red of hot coals while his eyes glittered like golden sparks. Not the amber eyes of a cat or wolf, but true molten gold. It was mesmerizing. Jarrod didn’t dare get close. And when the man smiled, Jarrod half-expected his teeth to be pointed.

The dragon-man bowed to Leona. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Spellcaster Leona of the Hills,” he said, and in his voice was the musical cadence that could still be heard in Leona’s voice though she’d left her home country over a decade ago. “I am called Kipkirui. And what may I call your apprentice?”

Those unnerving eyes landed on Jarrod. His went dry. He could not speak. Leona sent an exasperated look over her shoulder at him, then turned back to Kipkirui. “He’s called Jarrod. We again apologize for the trouble he has caused you.”

This time the look she sent Jarrod was one that warned him not to disagree or say something stupid. “Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his arm.

Kipkirui smiled at him as well, and Leona took that as a sign that she no longer needed to defend her apprentice. She went to fetch her bag from where she’d dropped it when she came to Jarrod’s rescue. She slung it over her shoulder. Jarrod watched her and did not notice that Kipkirui approached him until Kipkirui was in front of him and holding out a hand.

“We must start over. I am happy to meet you, Jarrod.”

Jarrod squirmed but could see no way around it, so he clasped Kipkirui’s hand and shook it once before dropping it. He mumbled something that might have been agreement and stared at the ground. Kipkirui towered over him even in human form, which was annoying. Jarrod wished he could be so tall.

“What brings you to these parts, Kipkirui?” Leona returned to them and shot Jarrod another look for being rude again.

Kipkirui took his eyes off Jarrod long enough to answer her. “Well, I am an adult now, so I had to leave my parents’ burrow and find my own. I heard that the flowers in this country were beautiful, so I thought I might settle here. I do apologize if I frightened anyone. Humans are more used to dragons where I’m from.”

Leona grunted in agreement. “That’s true. I heard that humans and dragons used to be on better terms here, but that ended because King Lennox tried to eradicate them from the land. That was about... six generations ago? He didn’t succeed, but...” She shrugged. Public opinion of dragons remained smeared by his campaign. “Anyway, you’re welcome to come to my house. We can have a meal and Jarrod and I can show you around.”

Horrified, Jarrod stared at her. Invite a dragon into town? What was she thinking? Just because Kipkirui could take on human shape didn’t mean he looked human. If Jarrod encountered him without knowing that he was a dragon, he would have assumed Kipkirui was one of the Fair Folk.

But Kipkirui agreed. “It would be a pleasure,” he said. And Jarrod knew better than to argue, so they went back to Kingsbury together.

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yridenergyridenergy · 4 years

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Hello there! If you have some time to spare; I would be very interested in hearing your opinion in each album of Dir en grey so far.. or what they make you feel like etc etc.. If you got the time ;)

The Insulated World

If you try karaoke with this album, you quickly notice that the MAJORITY of the lines are structured long and you always run out of breath. Like you are spent and out of oxygen or life after each. It's tasking on the abdos, painful no matter whether the song is constituted of screaming or is a 'ballad'. Whether it is by screaming the end to expulse the last bit of breath or transitioning from one sentence to the other for as long as there is still air in your lungs, Kyo orchestrated these lyrics in a manner that demonstrates his meaning, which will bring him to the brink of death and that he wishes to use all ounces of his existence to transmit. "Until my very last breath". With this album, it helped that I worked on posting the lyrics and stuff to incorporate them into my understanding from the start. So, there is no escaping that this is the "I hate myself" album. But this loop of ending the last song the same way as the beginning of the first song – I scream therefore I live – is genius. Globally, the tone isn't one void of hope.

Another particularity with this album, I think, is the "spitting" going on. The 'dare' sounding like 'zare' in Ningen wo Kaburu for instance isn't just a Kyoto accent: you can hear the lack of restraint, the raw and unfiltered loathing that can't warrant one second spared to collect the saliva properly in the mouth. But it's not screamed as much, everything has been very reflected.

Musically, I have found myself detecting melodies that are extremely familiar to ARCHE and Dum Spiro Spero ever since their release. That was usually on the first couple of listening sessions though, so I would have difficulty pointing them out now, but it feels like the raw sound is not as unique as it used to be. Perhaps just the band thinking about giving themselves a break on stage by thinking about how difficult things could be to play and keep in mind if they want to move around or interact with the fans.

THE MARROW OF A BONE

Some sorrow, but an orgy of frustration. No care for how long, just short bursts of anger stringed one after the other. That being said, there are some interesting guitar melodies among everything using that dirty, somber tuning, even though Shinya's track does not demonstrate his independent streak. Overall, listening to this album, I develop a vision of dwindling, swirling pieces of flesh exposing a head that exploded open out of sheer intellectual anger? Perhaps because of the majorly English lyrics which, coming from a Japanese, means that there was more effort put into them to reach a wider range of recipients. There was too much contained but not just in the heart – like the person tried to contain it and reason with those feelings, however it became overbearing and transcended all restraints of the mind.

UROBOROS

Before even realizing that that was the intended world view featured in the ultra deluxe release whatever, from the first few songs I was really imagining a desolated landscape. A very somber one. Throughout the album, it feels like you navigate from one area to the other in this world, encountering deserts but also destroyed cities and even living beings, like demons. And yet, at the end there is a twist of hope, it seems. Overall, UROBOROS sounds so sophisticated, the melodies are starting to be elegant while dirty and low. But, I hadn't noticed before, you can discern some melodies following the lyrics very closely like in all of the rest of the music produced in the world. Still, this album really has Shinya shining with his truly unique, genius drumming. If you don't know what I am talking about, watch him or an amateur drummer playing GLASS SKIN. To finish, is it just me or does this album's guitar riffs sound very "piratey"? In addition to the dry, post-catastrophic land, there is some personality in the guitars that my mind associates to pirates for some reason... Well, UROBOROS is very beautiful and goodness, I love Tue Madsen's mixing.

VULGAR

This album is ominous but exudes confidence. There is something daring about the individuality of the songs that is fully assumed and goes in your face. The music is more repetitive than in most Dir en grey albums, but the heavy riffs are catchy and there is a plurality of sounds regardless. With this album, I get reminded that Kyo's voice is rather unique in the Japanese music scene for not being as low as the average singer. I love the UGHs throughout the album. It's very lyrics-heavy, each song is an individual story for sure.

Six Ugly

Again, the music can be repetitive but there are some very good beats and sound experimentation. In general, this mini-album gives me the sense of a renegade teen expressing madness both as frustration but also as some delusion. It's slightly on the crazy side hah. The way it ends is representative: a scream followed shortly by a laugh.

GAUZE

As much as I was approaching this album now with some resentment due to those people on Twitter who hold it as the sole album worth mentioning in all of Dir en grey's history, damn this was a very, very solid debut album (MISSA tends to be overlooked hah). It feels like a train, both as a continuous, relentless ride but also a train hitting you head on. The music can get very repetitive at times, but there are such good riffs too. The tone of the singing throughout most of the album is "revendicateur" (no real equivalence in English), respectful but very powerful regardless. There are already very interesting experimentations with the voice at this early stage.

MISSA

How did Shinya even go from such standard, non-varied drumming skills to his genius and unique performance of these days... Still, much better than a lot of other stuff I hear on today's radio or from the past, and especially from ANY other visual kei/J-rock band of that era. I listened to Aoi Tsuki all the time before hah. There is something insolent about the sound of the guitars in this album. The repetitiveness and the lyrics that are dragged on make this a more contemplative work.

(As far as semi-albums go... Do you consider The Unraveling one? AH don't get me started on this one, my love is absolute! 改-KAI- is just remixes though...)

Kisou

Like I am witnessing a very particular ceremony. There is demonic mixed with frustration and sadness. There are some highly powerful atmospheres in the songs on this album, like Bottom of the death valley, Gyakujou Tannou Keloid Milk and Karasu. It's vicious, it keeps me transfixed. The transitional tunes (shinsou) are so nice to have, they really transport you from one mood to another.

Withering to death.

Ah this is when I discovered Dir en grey. THE FINAL had been enough to trigger the rest of this past decade+. This whole album grips my heart and elevates it, deepening the trend of exuding all that's inside. And hey, having watched these songs live a few times, they definitely have that 'dancey' vibe. There is a remarkable trace of maturity in this album from all members and every song is very unique. Ending with Kodou too... All in all, a very relatable work, like everything that followed.

ARCHE

Du Shinya génial tout craché. This album wholly demonstrates Shinya's talent, the rolling and so diverse drums. Overall throughout this album, the bass and drum tracks are very, very appreciable. And the guitars pave some amazing, fantasist sonorities. ARCHE, to me, is desolation but, primordially, HOPE. It feels like the sadness is acknowledged but the energy of this album possesses me, courses through my veins and what unfolds is an encouragement to take control and turn your gaze forward. When a closed one passed away, "What now?" from Chain Repulsion and other segments of the songs on this album surfaced in my mind. When the dearest soul in my life passed away, in the end, this album is what I turned to in order to assimilate the situation, pour it out and still leave with a sliver of hope.

My initial thoughts about ARCHE when it came out was that the songs were universes that were cut short prior to being fully fleshed out. Almost a "coït interrompu". Now, I deeply appreciate them as they are, but indeed each tune is a world of its own, so immensely unique. There is something very stubborn about some of the songs too, like "I won't let you ignore what happened, I'll make sure of that". Seize the reins.

Dum Spiro Spero

I get the image of one horribly gigantic and tenebrous snake sliding across the ground, fangs bared but discrete, prowling. There is something difficult to seize about these songs, like they are up there on a pedestal trying to lure me in with fantasy golden linings... Otherwise, I am quite biased by a review I had read, which described this album as the opening of the gates of hell, letting loose all that it had imprisoned. I really agree with this depiction. The sounds on this album are very bewitching, it's as if there was magic involved and many of the songs sport twists and turns, as though to pull the listener into various tunnels up and down in something that you are not too sure you want to partake in.

MACABRE

Honestly I am relieved when I remember that this came right after GAUZE, not Kisou. Macabre's content is definitely very raw and overall, the sounds are very constant. It feels like a storyteller album, where things are expressed and you are entranced, but as far as relating to the stories being told... Weird things are going on sometimes hah. What is sure is that, no matter the range of emotions, they are powerful. There is little restraint to this intensity and madness. What it starts, it ends. And this album gave us the likes of Wake, a fist in and of itself.

And yet, throughout these two decades, there is an unmistakable constant of five men producing unique rhythms that aren't bound by even one another and yet come together as one to form a plethora of the most genuine expressions of pain, sadness, anger and, still, hope. Which is why I say that my favourite album is all of them.

I would be very interested in reading other fans’ impressions of each album too, and curious to know if anybody agrees with my thoughts on them. Let’s open a discussion!

#thanks for the trip #anon #ask #albums #opinion #Dir en grey #京 #Kyo #Die #Shinya #Toshiya #Kaoru #薫

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itskiah · 4 years

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An autumn leaf has no control, it sways in whichever direction the wind leads it. All the other leaves have fallen and now its just one leaf trying to hold on to the tree with all it's might. It is afraid to fall like the others, even though it's uncomfortable with the constant twisting and turning of the wind. The tree has become unwelcome, and uninterested in the leaf. It no longer provides the leaf with the nutrients it needs to be strong and green. The leaf is meant to fall, to cut ties with the tree, to wither away and seep into the ground and grow into something else, something stronger. Lately I've been reminded of who I used to be. A sad, lonely leaf afraid to fall. I had friends, if you want to call them that. They were mean and cold and never took accountability for the things they did to me. They made me feel small, unloved, and unworthy. They even pretended to plot my death once. And all because I tried so badly to be like them, to be with them. It wasn't my fault I was so unhappy, so uncomfortable in my skin. There was nothing I could do about it, it was just how I was born and how I was forced to live. I would tell them that each time I was upset. Tell them it's not their fault either and I'm so sorry for upsetting them. I would stalk their social media pages and see that they were all hanging out without me. Then I started to text them that I wanted to hurt myself, or that I had an allergic reaction just to see if they would answer, if they cared. I remember one time they all sat me down for an intervention. They harshly told me I'm not the victim and I was the reason I was so miserable, and that they were becoming miserable because of me. They told me they didn't want to be friends with me if I didn't change. I tried to point out all of the things they did and said that made me feel the way I did, but they didn't hear it. They debunked everything I said, told me I made it all up. I cried, I cut, I felt ashamed. But despite this I still longed to be a part of the group, I pretended I was okay, but each time I left them I'd be overwhelmed with anxiety, convince myself I wasn't worth their friendships. Then the next day I would make damn sure I was at the pool with them all, I resented them, but if I didn't have them what did I have? I couldn't wait to go to college. A fresh start with people who don't know me, people who would see the real me. I'd see all the girls in the hallway and wish I could be like them. Unapologetic and popular, magnetic really. I'd hear them outside my door getting ready to go to parties, but they never invited me. "Why? I know I'm shy but all I need is for someone to give me a chance." But I did make some friends after all, we would be living together in a quad the following year. But these girls didn't care for the parties like I did, so even with them I felt out of place. Sophomore year I was finally invited, finally given a chance. I went to a party and I remember watching all the boys hitting on the girls as I continuously pulled my shirt higher to hide my cleavage. Why weren't they looking at me? I know I'm not pretty but am I really that ugly? I knew I shouldn't have worn that shirt it made my chest look too big and my arms looked fat and standing next to these girls really brought that out, There I was the designated fat friend there to make everyone else look better by comparison. I remember sitting on the bed in the dorm room when a girl grabbed my hand to dance. She told me one of her guy friends was looking at me, I didn't even notice. She introduced me and he asked to dance but I wouldn't let him touch my hips, he would feel my fat. He told me I was beautiful I told him he was lying. Then we stopped talking and he left with one of the "pretty girls." A few weeks later was my birthday and one of the "pretty girls" wanted to throw me a party. I didn't show because she wouldn't tell me who was coming. She told me that I was being disrespectful and that I didn't appreciate all that she had done and she stopped speaking to me. I apologized incessantly "it's just my anxiety I can't help it." We never rekindled that "friendship." Which I knew all along would happen because she never truly understood me. I thought my roommates did but they even started to show they didn't care, they stopped asking me about my vague posts on twitter and facebook. One time they even told me that what I posted was obviously about them and that "I make everything about me." Why can't anyone understand how hard it is to be me? To feel what I feel? A few days after my birthday I snuck out of my college dorm and got in my car. I had every intention to drive into a tree. Before I took off I listened to a voicemail from my aunt and cousins singing me happy birthday. I called my mom and told her I didn't want to be alive anymore. Although I had had these thoughts before, I decided this was it. I posted on twitter and facebook that I wanted to leave this "earth." None of my "friends" replied, just a girl I worked with who didn't even know me. I was right, I knew they didn't care. Then I put the car in reverse and started driving. I didn't know where I was going, I just knew that there were plenty of roads near my school where I could easily shut my eyes, and hit the gas until I crashed. Through the tears I remember thinking "they'll be sorry now." But I couldn't do it. Something inside me was afraid. "Of course even I would fail at this." It took me a while to realize that I couldn't follow through that night because I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing it to seek some sort of revenge on "them." I turned the car around, still crying and pulled into the parking spot I left from 20 min prior. My roommates were there waiting, they jumped in the car and hugged me as I sobbed. When we got back to our room, I checked my phone and had several missed calls from my mom and several private messages on facebook and twitter. People do care. After that day I became determined to start my journey to prove "them" wrong. To show "them" all that I was worthy of all the good that life has to offer. I begun deep diving into myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my behaviors. I realized that the people in my past had a point. People in my past were not trying to hurt me, they were trying to save me. I convinced myself for so long that I was the victim and "they" were the perpetrators. But "they" were just a figment of my creation. People in my past did not say that I was the ugly, fat friend, I did. People in my past didn't tell me that something was wrong with me, I did. So if "they" were really just my inner thoughts I didn't have to prove anyone wrong but myself. And so the journey's purpose changed. Once "they" held less power, my true personality emerged. Other's began to flock to me, I began to see myself and accept myself for the things that I am (good, bad, and the ugly.) I became an unapologetic "pretty girl." I don't need anyone else to love me as long as I love me. Realizing I held the power all along was terrifying yet amazing. I am not a victim. I am not just a leaf twisting in the wind. I am a strong and flawed woman and I matter in this world. Now the leaf has become a tree. beautiful and full of leaves. This tree has now begun to understand the tree it fell from all those years ago and whispers "thank you" in the wind. This tree nurtures it's many leaves until they are ready to fall and become their own trees

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aalt-ctrl-del · 5 years

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i fucking hate this, but I don’t care

The Not Good Ending

Everything in and around his tentative consciousness oscillated, his physical form floating somewhere in the ether; hacked from corporal tethers. A ship cast to the mercy of convulsing waves.

“So this is what it felt to die.” he thought, he might’ve wondered. This was what it felt like to cease being. Existence expunged. So much unresolved. So much left to say. So much wasted time. So much to Lose...

So much...

He didn’t get a chance to say, how much. Or to appreciate the time, the better moments, with Him. He saved him, didn’t he? Yes, he did. He absolutely, fucking did. Like a badass.

So much left inside of him. So much given up, so many goodbyes left, unsaid. So much left undone. But it was worth it. If it had happened any other way, he knew deep in him, he didn’t have the kind of strength to let go, and watch the fading light in his best friends eyes.

At least it was dark. Not so much silent as it was hushed; somewhere in his head, a ringing sensation heaved forth. The chatter akin to a boiling hum. The same sort of groaning roar that filled his brain when all the oxygen was siphoned out. After a plunge into the quarry - that’s the first thought that came to mind - it rattled away between his ears, seeking a way out. The tenure impossibly low, nearly inaudible if not for the priming sensation that something must erupt inside his arteries, and behind his eyes.

Fresh oxygen. Pure oxygen. He wasn’t sure if that was medically accurate, but it felt right. The C02 would ignite inside his brain if he didn’t replenish his lungs. Though he wanted to drink in the air, invigorate his withering cells, for the life of him he couldn’t remember how.

This is what robbed him of his life. Not the Clown. Not Henry Bowers. Not falling thirty meters into a bottomless pit.

He couldn’t breathe. Plain, fucking, simple.

The whirr rose in pitch, until the vibrations punched into his skin. His mouth moaned something, and he realized dully, Oh. I am breathing.

Someone was screaming at him. No. The tone was commanding and firm, but they hadn’t raised their voice. Questions darted at him. They sounded close in enunciation to questions, but horribly mangled through the blunt vibration prodding his brain matter. Some of the language range clear and concise

“- a sign -” “ - blood pressure - “ “type” “ transfusion ” “ insurance provider “

“Sir? Can you hear me?”

The light plunged into his eye was so bright, some primal instinct reared forth a violent reaction and he snapped. His arm connected with someone, and another voice hissed a curse. A wave of agony invaded his tissue and bones. Holy shit, that hurt. That hurt a fuck lot. He was fucked.

His head lolled back on the soft fabric of something like a pillow, and a sopping string of syllables dragged across his sticky lips. Copper flooded his nostrils, his throat. All of it his.

The bleak walls stretched on by, the monotonous cadence of wheels beat his thoughts to a fine foam. He blinked against the intensity of light rebounding off those stunning walls - he hated hospitals - and nearly plunged back into the comforting veil of null. His hand twitched at his sides, and then, he realized someone was beside him. Someone was keeping pace with the gurney, which caged his battered frame, and they were holding his hand tightly.

“We need that blood type. “

One of the nurses forced a plastic mask over his face and manually pumped the life back into him. A cough leapt from his throat, try and try, he fought to twist his gaze under the tending agents. They bickered and prodded, shoving things into his skin, touching his body, probing his pockets. He Hated hospitals.

Something of the Fight wheedled its way back into his plundered psyche. Panic and terror boiled through his veins, though this sensation wasn’t for his own frail mortality. Immediately, his thoughts darted to the others. Where were they? What happened?

Where was Richie?

“..wheh- ere,” he gurgled.

“Don’t speak,” a nurse cautioned.

He rolled his head into the direction of his arm, and his clasped hand, struggling to press focus beyond five inches. The tinges of his peripheral vibrated, the sizzling pressure warning him even the slight motion of blinking might kill him yet. But there was the arm, and a familiar sleeve attached to it.

“Is surgery prepped?”

Eddie frowned. He was surprised and a little disappointed, but a greater deal more concerned than what he could manage to convey. Too much absorbed the functions of his mind and body, as the pieces of viscera struggled to cling and hold the fading spark that made a person who they were.

If Bill was here, and they were in this hellish place (exaggeration), this was a feat that couldn’t be managed alone. Not the climb, not alone, not escaping. None of it possible, not without them all united, and together.

IT wouldn’t have let them.

Bill tightened the hold on his hand.

Eddie scrambled with a coherent question, but only managed a listless, “Bill…”

Images and colors began blurring, becoming more abstract than one of Van Gophs surreal pieces.

“Stay with us.

He creaked an eye more open towards the silent Bill, his vision bleary and the outlines of his very dear friend odd. Bill was smiling, but that was off too. Everything was off. Was he dreaming?

You can’t dream if you’re dead, Edds.

“No.” he breathed, beneath the shy of a whisper. And repeated it in his head. No-no-no-no. He wasn’t in a nightmare, he was in hell. He was in his own private hell. This is where the Deadlights dragged him. Stole him from the comfort of death, to tease and torment him for all eternity.

“Can you still hear me?”

He made some sound, but couldn’t catch the exact shape of it. Only that it scorched his chest. Maybe another no.

The hand around his own squeezed, drawing his eyes reflexively to the hideous caricature of poor Bill. It was smiling in that deviously, cartoony way. Did anyone else see It? Would any of them care?

Then the grip did something shocking. It released him, and the figure zipped beyond his view. Eddie scuffled with the last traces of energy to search the sides, but unable, and restrained by the hospital staff, from moving too much. He actually tried to rip the respirator off his face.

“Please, sir!”

“Prep sedation. We’re here.”

The gurney eased around a bend in the hall, and aloft in the crease of the ceiling hung a reflective disk. The shimmering gloss snagged Eddies attention immediately, due to the washed-out colors captivated in its glossy plain, colors gutted and displaced from natural scenery. Streaks of red and orange ran like globs of molten metal, and glittering in the center of a pale face, the mocking sheen of eyes and teeth. Too many teeth in a too wide grin.

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