#Appeared in my minds eye like a vision from God. Could it be true.

[twomystdunstans]

Do we think Ben Arnold could be a beautiful butch lesbian .

[princessbrunette]

so i know i always say that rafe is strictly a girl dad. well, he is. but sometimes i like to humour myself with the universe where he’s the father to the sweetest little boy ever.

the universe would be ironic like that. rafe foolishly knocked you up when he was 22 — the boy still having alot to learn. he was still walking around with that pistol tucked into his waistband, fighting pogues, mouthing off and going on coke rants. you had been terrified, wondering what kind of a father rafe was going to be — even when he promised time and time again, “i’m — i’m getting my shit together alright? i can, hey — we can do this? okay?” with sweat gathered at his hairline and tears in his eyes. thus, when the universe decided to play the hilarious prank which was having the doctor tell you ‘its a boy!’, your first thought was ‘shit.’

because he was bound to be just like rafe, right?

you had seemingly prophetic visions, a spoiled little brat — just like his father was, thundering around in a brightly coloured ralph lauren polo from the baby range, demanding the teet when he saw fit. a girl would have been fine — you’d seen wheezie grow up around rafe and turn out totally fine (aside from the likely trauma.) but a boy? what did rafe cameron know about raising a boy? was your son next up to become a drug slinging, pogue hating, maniac? (with no offence to rafe of course, you were unfortunately very much in love with him but contrary to popular belief that did not disrupt your common sense.)

rafe was over the moon about you being pregnant with a boy too, which did little to comfort you.

the anxiety subsided the second that baby was out of you, his sticky, slimy little body placed onto your chest with rafe crowding your space — his bravado dropped for a second to reveal a childlike awe. his own baby. you could tell it was only now that things became very real for rafe. his eyes well up, covering his shaky grin with an even shakier hand, saying stuff like “shit, oh uh nah i probably shouldn’t cuss infront of the baby anymore right? yeah… my god, you did it baby. brought me my boy. should be so god damn proud.” he croons as his hands dig affectionately into your sore shoulders, smearing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “ahh, aha — what the hell kinda man am i cryin’ at this huh? shit.” he sniffles as he wipes his eyes but you’re not listening. you’re staring at your perfect boy.

he grows into something perfectly reminiscent of both you and rafe’s features, all whilst smushed into the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. you were aware every parent said that about their child, but no — you were certain. he was pampers commercial level cute. ‘top ten cutest babies’ buzzfeed article level cute. sarah would often hold him to her chest and something would be healed as she’d whisper “i can’t believe you came from my brother.” into his wispy hair. he was a true blessing.

with big doe eyes that took up half his face and an appearance that somehow replicated a baby lamb that had been turned into a human on the basis of a magical spell — you had long forgotten about your worries regarding having a boy.

a few years down the line and not much has changed. your baby boy is three years old, chubby fists clutching his empty plastic lightening mcqueen plate as he toddles out onto the porch where rafe sits spread out opposite barry, sipping on a can of beer in the early evening. your son is distracted by a decorative plant, and the two men pay him no mind as they continue talk.

“but — but that’s the thing, right, barry? i dont do that shit anymore and… and i sure as hell am not looking to start again.”

“man i get that rafe you a father now, all serious and shit but think about the money. you thinkin’ with your husband head and not with your cameron head. your daddy was a piece of shit but he had that business mindset that you gotta adopt, bro.”

rafe’s expression flattens, finishing his can before leaning forward onto his elbows. “well uh, newsflash — i don’t wanna be anything like my dad. now if we’re done here…” rafes attention is caught by the mini him waddling into view, holding his plate infront of him.

“more please?” comes the sweetest voice in the world, blinking up at the man he viewed as his entire universe, much like you at times.

“finished your icecream already huh? where’s your mom?” he cranes round, but doesn’t bother searching much further when he hears the padding of your footsteps.

“aye buddy, you know we was just talkin’ about you.” barry leans forward with a smarmy grin and your son gets shy, lifting his shoulders practically to his ears and looking down, glueing himself to rafes leg.

“conversations done, actually.” rafe reminds him, lifting the boy to sit on his hip as he hoists himself to stand. as he does so, you appear in the doorway to the patio— sundress clad belly swollen with another baby.

“rafe could you bring him in? it’s too hot out there for him without his hat.” you furrow your eyebrows, deciding to ignore barry’s presence all together, which of course doesn’t stop him from conversing.

“shit, i ain’t seen you in a while mama. he got you again? you two stay busy, huh?” rafes oldest ‘friend’ chuckles, gold tooth glinting in the sun light, and like your only child — you shy away, sending rafe a parting glance that said ‘just hurry up and rid of him.’

rafe adjusts the baby boy on his hip, now staring down at barry.

“talk to my girl again n’i’ll bring out the old me alright, you don’t want that. go do somethin’ barry, i don’t care what it is just get off my goddamn property yeah?” rafe drawls tiredly, crushing the can in his hand and dropping it carelessly into the wastebin beside barry before heading inside, your son turning to stare sweetly at the dark haired man over his dads shoulder, offering a sticky, wide fingered salute in parting.

atleast rafe was still his usual charming self, son or not.

[bubbly-parker]

Isaac Request

Requested? Yes

Isaac Lahey x witch afab Reader

I didn't know if you wanted pure fluff of smut too so this is pure fluff I think I will add a second Chapter with smut, tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has any ideas what to add please drop them in my inbox <3333

Prompts:

4. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me.”

9. "let me take care of you

The reader thinks Isaac doesn't like her, but he's just awful at showing his feelings.

Since the reader doesn't have healing abilities like the rest of them Isaac never wants them to come with them because it stresses him out too much, he feels the need to protect her and he can’t fight and keep an eye on her at the same time

The reader thinks Isaac sees her as a burden but he is in loooooooove

Challenge: take a shot everytime i wrote Isaac.

Spoiler:

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument. “What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You woke up on your living room couch, halfway slumped over the side, with a pounding head and blurry vision. You couldn't remember getting home; all you remembered was a pretty bad fight.

I should have just stayed out of there.

But of course, you could never stay out of other people's business. No one in Beacon Hill could. Supernatural was drawn to supernatural.

When you changed schools, you didn't expect your parents to drop you off, and ending up immediately running into a WHOLE PACK of werewolves. You kept your head down and walked right past them as if they didn't exist.

You are a witch, so you smell like an average human to them, but they can’t fool you being born a witch. Your third eye has always been open, and they can’t hide their true forms from you.

One day during lunch, you overheard some of their troubles—of course, you weren't eavesdropping...

you'd never..

From what you gathered, they needed a rare plant that happened to grow in your witch mother’s garden.

You've only been here for a few weeks but befriended Allison and Lydia quickly, so you understood the pack was keeping the town safe and are no danger, of course, they didn't know that you had already seen through them, but you felt the need to help them regardless.

You heard them talking about meeting up after school, so you dropped a tracking stone in Lydia's bag during class when she wasn't looking so you could find her later. In hindsight, you should have maybe just approached them instead of using Lydia to stalk them, but you aren't exactly the most extroverted, so they would have to deal, you thought.

Later that day, you went home and plucked the flower from your mom’s garden while she was still out. Back in your room, you placed the second tracking stone on your map, and it moved exactly to where Lydia was at that moment.

Back then, on that day, you should have learned to mind your business, but whatever

You got out of your car in the middle of the woods, a map and a mason jar with your flower in your hand, looking for Lydia when you heard screaming.

A fight was happening in the middle of the woods, and you ran right into it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You turned around to see a rather angry Isaac right behind you, unsure whether he had turned since you pretty much always saw through their facade. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. Taking a step back as he took on forward, you pushed your hand out, shoving the jar under his nose while avoiding his eyes. You said nothing.

Isaac accused you of spying on them and trying to sabotage them, but thankfully Stiles stumbled towards you guys, perplexed by your appearance but thankful either way he took the flower and did god knows what with it.

Ever since that you involuntary became a part of the pack. You told them how you knew from the first time you set foot in the school, but Isaac didn't trust you and kept his distance. Now, a year later, close to graduation, you still end up coming to the rescue every single time together with Stiles. You're keeping the boat from sinking, really.

And that's why you found yourself in your current position. You came to the rescue again. Some sicko alpha was rampaging through the woods, and while you were laying a trail of mountain ash, he attacked you from behind, scratching open your side and throwing you through the night sky, lovely.

You didn't register any pain at first, but now that you're coming to be, your entire side is burning, and your head is pounding even stronger.

You don't know who got you home, but you could hear water running in your guest bath down the hall, so with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up to make your way over to the bathroom, but your vision got blurry, and you had to lean on the armrest.

“What are you doing? Sit back down.” Isaac came rushing towards you and helped you sit back down. You didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Isaac.

Over the last year, Isaac had warmed up to you a little—not that you could tell, but that's what the others kept saying.

To you, Isaac still seemed closed off, but you wrote it off as it being his personality.

He didn't want you to come today. He protested profusely at lunch, saying that there was nothing you could help with anyway and that you were just putting yourself in danger. You knew that you probably should have sat this one out, but Stiles was feeling under the weather, and you didn't like that Isaac made you feel like a child.”

“I can take care of myself. I'm not a child,” you told Isaac, who acted like you would just be a burden. You feared he might have been right.

Now that he was in your home, treating you like a child again made you angry. One day, he was nice to you—distant but still somewhat nice—giving you class notes when you were sick even though you were sure he never took notes. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and then he acted like a first-class jerk again.

To be real, his cold-shoulder, mysterious attitude had you crushing a little at first, but when you realized that he only cold-shouldered you and Stiles, it just felt like he was excluding you.

While you could be more of a help to your friends if you would be focusing on spell crafting like your mom instead of potion making, it comes in handy in times like this where your healing salves would aid your healing process, not having the natural advanced healing of a werewolf.

You take a staggered breath in, grind your teeth together, and got moving.

“You’re shitting me right now; you shouldn't move in this condition.”

Ignoring Isaac, you moved towards your hallway, one hand on the wall stabilizing you.

“I mean it, Isaac, just leave. I brought this onto myself anyway."

But instead of Isaac leaving, you could hear him move towards you.

You went to turn around. “ Wh-

Before you could even start, Isaac picked you up.

Paralyzed from the shock of what was happening, you just gasped up at Isaac like a fish as he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you down on your bed, and without looking at you, he immediately turned away. Your eyes followed his figure as he moved towards the other side of your room, where you kept your potion cabinet.

“Which one is that healing stuff you gave Allison last time?” You just looked at Isaac, not quite understanding why he was still here.

“the purple container that says Clinique” (reduce, reuse, recycle old containers)

Isaac moved back over to the bed. You sat up and took the salve from him.

You waited for him to leave so you could lift your shirt and apply the salve but Isaac sat down next to you.

“I'll help you." Isaac moved closer and tried to lift the side of your shirt, but you flinched back—wrong idea. A stabbing pain ran up your side and temporarily made your vision go black.

One part of your brain enjoyed the idea of taking your whole shirt off in front of Isaac—maybe that small part that still had a crush on him—but the other side didn't even want to slightly lift it.

“I can do it, Isaac; seriously, I'm not getting naked in front of you,” you glared at Isaac the best you could. "You don't need to be here.”

In reality, you didn't look mean at all, the pain too clear in your expression, and your wound far too concerning in Isaac's eyes. “You’re not getting naked; I just need to rub this on, and in case you haven't noticed, you're not even wearing your own shirt, so I won't see anything I haven’t already.”

You looked down at your own body and noticed he's right; the shirt you left the house in is long gone; instead, your blood is soaking into the shirt Isaac wore earlier under his jacket.

While you were distracted, Isaac quickly applied the slave to one hand and went under your shirt. As he went to apply it, you still tried to wriggle out of his hold; you don't know why you did it. You could tell that Isaac, for whatever reason, just wanted to help you.

Nice Isaac was complicated. It made the irrational side of your brain fuzzy, and maybe one small butterfly woke up in your stomach. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me and let me help you, goddamit.”

Isaac’s grip tightened around your waist. You couldn't go anywhere. As he rubbed the salve around your wound, he decided not to lift your shirt and just moved his hand under it.

You titled your head to look at Isaac; his eyes moved from your middle to your face. “Is this okay?” he asked while looking into your eyes.

You nodded your head, not sure what to say. This side of Isaac was weird; technically, you should be happy. This caring side is what you dreamed about months ago when you started crushing on the mysterious wolf, but he made it so incredibly hard on you by always treating you like a little kid.

When Isaac was done, he got up off the bed, washed his hands, and put the salve back where it belonged.

You dropped back on your bed, facing the ceiling, energy fading. You couldn't even move up the bed, legs still dangling off.

Isaac came back to your side and kneeled. He started taking your boots off; you felt too exhausted to even lift your feet to help him.

You groaned, thinking about how Isaac would use this against you for all eternity to prove that you are nothing but a danger to yourself.

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

Okay, that wasn't what you expected.

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument.

“What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

You didn't really understand what Isaac was on about.

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You tried to make sense of his words when a conversation you had with Lydia came back to mind; you brushed it off, but Lydia had said something about Isaac always being way too close to you, not in a literal way, but if you were walking in a group, he was next to you walking on the side next to the road, and if you split up in groups, Isaac was always with you, and now today.

wait

“How did you find me? You were supposed to be at the other end of the woods?” You asked Isaac, who gave no reply. He was supposed to be with Allison as backup and setting up traps.

Isaac had put your shoes next to your wardrobe and came back to the side of your bed to help you move fully onto the bed.

“Isaac?”

“I was going to go in position once you were inside the Mountain Ash Circle... But then he came out of nowhere. I was too focused on you to notice him. I'm sorry.” Now you knew Isaac wasn't a man of many words, but you realized that Lydia might have been a little right; Isaac was always watching you.

A blush crept up on your cheeks, but you couldn't quite believe the conclusion you were drawing here.

“Oh,”

Isaac looked down at you lying on your back. "I’m bad at this talking thing, okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact now.

“it’s okay” You patted the space beside you on the bed and signaled Isaac to sit or lay down. You realized it must have been pretty late, or early? You looked at your alarm clock 2:43 am; well, not too bad.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Isaac laid down on his side next to you, somehow facing you but still avoiding looking at you, fascinating.

“Thank you, Isaac." Your eyes met, and the usually confident Isaac suddenly looked everything but that.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his hand. “Just let me take care of you from now on, okay?” he asked.

Okay, more than one butterfly woke up again. You nodded your head and tried to scoot closer to Isaac; instead, he wrapped his arms around you and did the work for you by pulling you in. “Will you stay?” you said as Isaac moved to sit up. “Of course, but you should change your shirt; it’s bloody.”

“You mean I should change youuur shirt?” you purred. You smiled at Isaac and pointed to your chair, where your PJs were lying. He reached over and gave you your shirt.

“Can you help me get this off?” You sat up; your side was healing. You could feel the wound closing up faster than humanly possible, but it still ached.

Isaac helped you lift your arms as little as possible as he lifted your shirt above your head.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you didn't feel uncomfortable. He helped you put your clean shirt back on and moved you to lie down with him, setting the blanket over you two.

You laid together in silence, your back pressed to Isaac’s chest; you could feel his breath on top of your head; you should sleep, but your emotions were running wild, and you didn't want this moment, these feelings, to end.

As if he could read your thoughts, Isaac said, “I’ll still be here in the morning. You can sleep.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you drifted off to sleep. Today's events were a little too much.

[takaraphoenix]

This is my ask for the multi chapter Steter. Anything you want to share, I’m so curious about it now. 🥺🥺

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING ^-^

Okay so, once again, this started out as a Mischief Monday and then I kinda went "mmmh no nope this is. the first chapter of something".

It's a soulmate AU because I love soulmate AUs and though I adore the True Mates angle for Teen Wolf, I really wanted a proper, full "everyone has a soulmate" AU with soulmarks.

The fic's title is Defying the Death Date and the soulmate AU I chose for it is that you bear your soulmate's birthday, if they are born before you then you are born with the date but if they are born after you then the date will appear on your body when they are born. And... as a counterpart to it, when your soulmate dies, their death date appears on your body.

Stiles learns that Peter is his soulmate when they kill the Alpha together.

And this was supposed to be a short oneshot about the angst of that. But then Derek decided to adopt Stiles and Stiles in return decided to adopt Derek in a burst of "in a soulmate universe, your family's soulmates would be your family and your soulmate's family would be your family and both these broken guys are gonna cling onto each other and then Stiles helps Derek grow the Hale Pack", so the Steter soulmate fic got a little hijacked by the need for platonic fluffy Sterek and then I figured "okay but that is kinda taking away from Steter... so what if, instead of using Lydia to resurrect, Peter would appear to STILES in visions and use the soulmate bond to bring himself back?" and yeah at that point I knew this wasn't gonna be a long oneshot either, this was turning multichapter...

Here, have an excerpt from chapter 1, the full chapter will be posted on December 21st:

The first time Stiles saw Peter Hale was in the hallway of a hospital and it was neither magical, nor amazing, but perhaps a little mind blowing. After all, Derek’s comatose uncle turned out to be the Alpha who bit Scott and he also turned out to not be as comatose as previously assumed.

Still, there were no… sparks, there was no recognition, no heart eyes or immediate swooning.

No, Stiles would only realize that Peter was his soulmate the third time they met.

(After a horrific second meeting on the lacrosse field that included the mauling of Lydia and the kidnapping of Stiles. Though a much tamer and less deadly kidnapping than Stiles would have anticipated, if one considered the dead nurse in Peter’s trunk or the state Lydia had been in when Stiles and Peter left the school grounds. He’d later wonder if that was the bond, subconsciously.)

The third time Stiles met Peter was at the burned out Hale House, after Peter tore Kate Argent’s throat out with his claws. There was still a sense of insanity in his red-burning eyes and Stiles found himself terrified and rooted to the spot, Jackson hot on his heels after Stiles had more or less forced the other jock into being his chauffeur to the crime scene.

All Stiles could see was the Alpha who had bitten Scott. The monster who had torn Lydia. The cold-blooded murderer who drove his nurse’s corpse around in the trunk of his car.

So Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail, to be ignited by an arrow from Allison. Setting Peter on fire (for the second time in the man’s life and good gods help him, Stiles felt his stomach twist at the reality of that). But it were Derek’s claws sinking into Peter’s throat that ended the man’s life.

The moment Derek tore them out, a searing pain shot through Stiles’ entire being and for a long, agonizing moment, he felt like he was on fire. His knees buckled from the overwhelming pain and he went down onto the ground, desperately grabbing his shirt to pull it up and see the spot where the pain seemed to originate from. His left hip. His eyes widened in true horror as he watched today’s date burn itself into his flesh in the same elegant cursive as the birth date on his right hip.

His soulmate had died. This very moment, his soulmate had died. The moment Derek ripped out his uncle’s throat, Stiles’ soulmate died. His eyes widened, terror and grief and confusion melting together into an awful emotion that seemed to drown him, because he could no longer breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to but it was like his lungs had stopped working, because his soulmate was dead. His soulmate was dead and he had helped kill him.

[smilelikeawolf]

Orym: "Tempest, there's one more thing I held back when we arrived. I wasn't sure what to make of it myself. It felt wrong to burden you and I'm sorry. A few of us... just in an attempt to understand the state the temples were in, we visited the temple of the Matron. And she visited us with a vision." Keyleth's face turns still as stone. Orym: "I've had more visions in the past year than I've had in my entire life. Gods come when they want. But we saw the excavation site again. We saw the Malleus Key, and some sort of red beam going from the ground all the way to Ruidus." Imogen: "It's true, I've seen it up close." Orym: "But in this vision, that man... that winged man that appeared that day... Ludinus has him in some sort of prison. And, um. We could hear him... in pain." Keyleth's eyes dart to the window. Orym notices what he thought was a small tree growing on the balcony is actually a perch. It is empty. Fearne: "You seemed upset when we talked of the Matron of Ravens. You don't seem to like her." Keyleth: "I have a tumultuous history with those that call themselves gods, yes. Tumultuous enough to keep them at arms length but still see their importance. They still serve their purpose to others. But they sometimes take in ways that don't feel fair." Laudna: "If she were gone, this Matron, what would happen to this man?" Keyleth: "I have no idea." Keyleth's mind races behind her eyes.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Some Thread of Time

pronouns: she/her warnings: angst summary: It has been years since Aemond has seen his childhood companion, once attached to the hip and now mere strangers harbouring the same memories but no matter how long it's been, he can't seem to let go wordcount: 1,343  A/N: i'm a fan of poetry so this was loosely inspired by the poem 'Two People' written from Robert M. Drake in the collection 'Empty Bottles Full of Stories', if you also like poetry then i greatly suggest it :) it also has work by one of my current favourites r.h. Sin whose poems you might have seen on my page before divider: firefly-graphics

Professing that Aemond missed Y/n was the same as saying he missed his eye–both obvious and true. Sometimes he goes days without remembering and then one day he finds a throbbing pain buried where something is supposed to be and it feels like something is digging into him, carving out the space you or his lost eye belongs all over again. It snatches you away without as much as a caring thought. The one-eyed prince still feels the burning flame of your lingered touch always so gentle as it dips across his cheek. He might never see you again, he used to think bitterly as he curled in on himself. The day he lost more than he could bear, the day more than one part was stolen from him. Aemond knows he should let you go and so he has tried but the carefully written letters that always wind up hidden beneath a thick book in his desk never stop growing. He discovers that no matter how strong he tenses his hand against his quill, he cannot spoil the ever-flowing words that stream from him like spring rain. The inked words are never enough to reach your ears however–never sweet nor good enough. Nothing is the same since you were taken from him but he still hopes that you can sometimes hear his heart beat for you in the quiet of the night no matter how far you are. He doesn't need yours in return, he just needs you to wield his own.

His mind whirrs in the silent hall as he stands by his brother's side, hating how no one else seems as bitter as himself at the display before him. The small family that has built from far too much tradition to be considered fresh. He scowls, watching as his cousin and nephew smile at one another at the announcement of their betrothal. Aemond's jaw tightens. Not for the first time, his mind wanders to a much prettier image–a grown portrait of you with your hair loose and flowers he had picked specially for you embedded in-between the strands. The prince did not enjoy appearing weak in front of others but for you he would, he's certain, if you hadn't been sent away from him in a cruel punishment of the Gods. Once his brittle father defends his sister's wretched spawn and the hearing is dismissed, he lingers long enough to sweep his eyes across the sea of courtiers and estranged family all leave. He turns swiftly with his brother's encouragement in the gesture of a harsh slap to the back. With some shattered shard of hope left wedged in him, he had hoped you'd appear out of some mythical mist. That's what consumed his dreams some nights. Not because he had always been infatuated with you but rather because his romanticised childish vision had only managed to preserve you against all else. His father's false love had soured and his mother's gentle hand felt hard but you had stayed the sweet girl who attended to him even in his worst states. He knew that it was unlikely for you to still be his cousin's lady-in-waiting after so many years but he hoped you hadn't wed, that you hadn't been moulded to bear children yet. For now he could rest without the last shred of his childhood ruined.

Perhaps he should have fought more, he thinks as he trails the dark stony halls of the castle he is supposed to call home. A thread of silver wrapped tightly around his barely beating heart, squeezing it as he turns the doorknob and pushed through. After entering, he slams the door back closed behind him. His fingers tremble as he reaches for a quill and drops himself haphazardly onto his chair. They then snatch and splay out parchment with the entitlement that it was only waiting for his rough hands and gentle words to breathe with the life of his whispering memories. Aemond didn't like to think that she left him, it hurt too much to consider she would do that but part of him is grateful that an untainted image of her can still burn as bright as the stars strewn in her eyes. Still, he selfishly longs to feel your presence but refuses to accept the very real possibility that you have forgotten him. Aemond knows that he is no longer the young sweet prince without friends–though two of those facts still prevail–he is different to the boy you once knew and he is happy to accept that you too will no longer be the same squeamish girl who despite her own disgust with gore, wiped back the tears off his cheek as blood poured from his wounded face. Aemond thinks of you, misses you, dreams of you even if he knows the likelihood that you are thinking also of him is low because it is worth it to hold onto the remaining scrap of innocence. The innocence you both had to leave behind. He only manages to leave his desk to attend a horrific family dinner awaiting him–only then can he dismiss you briefly from his thoughts.

As the dusk turns to the streaming and golden dawn of his bedroom his mind paints a sweet artwork of his childhood, one of the rare moments he could capture effortlessly. A fluorescent drawing of pink and orange flowers weaved into your braids and his hand holding tight to your warm one. He wanted to show you the royal gardens and who were you to deny him? There, he had taught you to dance and the feel of his own heartbeat tapping your feet to the ground on bare feet as you had insisted. You wanted to feel the earth beneath your souls and who was he to deny you? He wonders sometimes if that was the day that everything changed. He does not regret it but instead secures it safely in a glass bottle cast not into the ocean but rather his mind for him to only succumb to when he cannot blame himself for your disappearance from his life.

He spars the next morn with a surprising spring to his step and he can tell that people are curious as he refrains from squaring his shoulders and tensing his taut stomach. Instead, his shoulders are loose and his face awfully tranquil. His feet carry him with soft steps rather than aggressive slaps against the harsh stone floor. Aemond still has his usual sense of purpose however as he echoes through the corridor. Finally he reaches his personal squire and thrusts a parchment into his hands. The younger boy's eyes widen in surprise and his lips part in uncertainty. "For Lady L/n. I want these to reach her as soon as your horse will take you and I want you to follow this map so that you can present her with these flowers alongside it. Do you understand? They must be fresh." Aemond's voice does not contort into domineering, instead he is focussed and gentle. His stare however remains fixed on the squire who nods furiously. Neither can remember the last time Aemond Targaryen sent anyone a letter. Once the boy is given a dismissive nod and hurries off, Aemond can be let go of a shuddering breath and so he does although it struggles to soar from his lungs. He is firm that the flowers be fresh because he cannot believe yet that the care between you both has wilted. In fact he refuses to but neither of you yet know what is to come from this letter nor the feelings that he has finally released. He hopes that you have not forgotten the foolish promises of children half-grown. He hopes you remember the sliver of thread you once used to wrap around your ring fingers with a feeble attempt at vows. He hopes you can find the inspiration to return to him, no matter how staggering the path you both shall face.

To find your way back home.

[mxserish]

stillness || kurapika kurta

kurapika x reader

genre: angst; no confort

warning: mentioned death; pure sadness; kurapika's mental health is in shambles

With the spiders dead, his vengeance is finally complete. His clan's eyes are now in his possession. The only thing missing is you.

His hands dipped into the icy water, gathering some to splash on his face. Despite the cold, he didn't even flinch; he didn't have the strength to or didn't care. As his hands gripped the sink, he leaned closer to the mirror. he eventually raised his gaze to the mirror in front of him. God, he looked so terrible.

There were noticeable eye bags under his eyes, which added to the dead look on his face. Even the best clothes couldn't hide the obvious sleepless nights. He looked at his eyes, his clan's inheritance, the same eyes that had caused him so much pain. He despised them because every time he looked at them, he was reminded of the carnage he had witnessed. He wished to gauze them out, just as they had done to his family. He rubbed the area between his eyes, a frown on his face and a growing headache settling in.

Never the matter, he had more important things to do. Someone was waiting for him. He turned off the water, dried his face with a clean towel, and walked out the door.

The long corridor was as empty and silent as it had always been. Of course, he was used to it, having walked this path many times before. The only sound that disturbed the quiet was the sound of his steps. The noise could be considered unsettling, but it didn't bother Kurapika. Not anymore. Was this corridor always this long, or was it his imagination?

The sound of laughter from behind him caused him to come to a halt. He recognized the source of the laughter. He'd always remember their laughter, and he'd never forgive himself for forgetting it. Oh, how he missed that sound, that sweet melody. He needed to hear it again. He had a hopeful look and a wide smile on his face. He yelled their name with delight as he hurriedly spun around to find the source of the sound, to find them.

Nothing stood behind him. His expression changed quickly as he realized what was going on. Not this again. His breathing was erratic, his vision was blurry, and he shakily clutched his clothes. He tried everything he could to stop shaking, but his body refused to cooperate. He questioned whether he should have taken the medications that had been prescribed to him.

I'm not crazy. I'm fine. I'm not crazy. He desperately attempted to console himself. He continued his journey through the corridor, his heart pounding.

He was stopped at the end of the eternal corridor by a door. He knew what was behind it because he'd been there before, but it didn't stop the lump from forming in his throat. Keep going, he thought, and he eventually opened the door.

He was met with a shrine he had constructed. It was distinct from the others because it was adorned with the belongings of his deceased clan. His eyes scanned everyone, counting them over and over again, almost as if he was afraid of one of them disappearing, even if it was just one.

Chysta, Martir, mom, Huber, dad... these names flashed through his mind as he moved his gaze from one to the next. Did these names match the true owners of the eyes? He had no way of knowing for sure, but saying them made him feel better. Even if only for a little while. When his gaze fell on the top of the shrine, it immediately softened. Pairo...

He must keep going. He managed to look away and walk to his final destination with some difficulty. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

"You're still as lovely as ever, my love." In front of him was a bed with flowers all around it. There layed you.

"I saw you yesterday, but it feels like an eternity since I last saw you. I've been missing you terribly." His fingers gripped your chin with caution as if he was afraid you would shatter. He lowered himself and placed his lips against your cold ones. He pressed his nose against your ear and smelled the perfume in your hair. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and if you listened closely, you could hear how unstable it was. He was trying very hard to maintain his smile.

"I'm sure you've felt lonely being here by yourself. I'm sorry this has to happen, but it's for your own good." In an attempt to console you, he rested his forehead against yours. Or was it to distract him from his dark thoughts? His hands began to shake, his clothes clung to his body due to sweat, tears pricked his eyes, and despite his best efforts, his walls began to crumble until they were completely demolished.

He could no longer keep up his tough exterior, and he finally broke down in tears. The room was filled with cries of anguish and pain that he had suppressed for many years. His warm tears met your cold expression. As he clung desperately to your clothes, he sobbed. "Why haven't you come back? What do I have to do for you to wake up again?!" His inquiries were met by silence. He needed you so badly.

His cries persisted and lasted a long time. After some time, his cries evolved into laughter, a sign of his growing madness, until everything fell silent. "I know you'll come back to me. I just have to wait, right?" He wondered if this was your punishment for making you wait for him all that time. But don't worry; he'll wait for you until the end of time. He's been doing it for a few months now. You have to come back, or he might just go even more insane.

He kissed you goodbye and walked away, leaving your corpse alone. He tells himself that tomorrow will be the day when you will finally get up, hug him, and kiss him. In the back of his mind, there's this voice that warns him that you won't wake up, that you're gone for good. He chooses to disregard it. He can't, however, ignore the growing emptiness in his heart.

please, wake up.

kurapika needs therapy. we all need therapy.

— posted: march 19, 2023

[lu-is-not-ok]

Stuck in Heaven (ego gift: Late-bloomer's Tattoo) has been grinding my gears for a while now. It has an idea - and a clear one at that - but i can't figure out what it *is*. Wiki has the event transcript. Pls send help

Alright, back to my proper analyses, and... *cracks knuckles* Oh this one's gonna be fun. I want to say that since this one won't need to get into E.G.O analysis, then this post will be a bit shorter than my other full-length analyses...

But. You know how it is with me. For all I know this one might end up ridiculously long anyway. Also, uh, spoilers for Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina ahead.

So, before we can talk about Stuck in Heaven, we need to talk about the other Abnormality it's directly related to - The Burrowing Heaven.

The Burrowing Heaven debuted in Lobotomy Corporation, but later made a return in Library of Ruina as one of the Abnormality Battles. For the sake of completion, I will be taking a look at both of its appearances in the series.

In its original appearance, Burrowing Heaven takes on the form of a tree-like entity, made up of a fleshy material, with branches that seperate into wing-like shapes and many eyes.

Its main mechanics in Lobotomy Corporation is that the Abnormality needs to be on-screen to prevent it from breaching and teleporting away once it does breach. This mechanic is reflected in a lot of flavor text about it, most directly in the description of its E.G.O Gear, which includes the sentence "Just contain it in your sight."

Burrowing Heaven's story further expands on this idea. The Abnormality is repeatedly said to "live inside your eyes/gaze", to feed on the attention and focus others give it by looking at it. However, the moment one looks away for too long, it begins to stretch the stalks of its wings for two reasons - one, to gather corpses as food for the fruit it bears; two, to reach towards the sky and sun, as if to cover it up.

Religious imagery and symbolism is used all over for this Abnormality. From the act of stretching its limbs being compared to praying to an old-forgotten god, to its wings reaching the skies being compared to an angel, to the action of it growing its thorns and burrowing being described as for the purpose of "reaching heaven inside one's vision".

Now, there's a very interesting part of Burrowing Heaven's story in LobCorp that I want to point out. Usually, when those stories are said in first person, it's either through the use of "we" (to reflect the company/employees writing those down as a whole), or with the passage being specified as either some testimony or log or otherwise being quoted.

However... That's not the case here. For Burrowing Heaven, there is a whole section in its story written in first person, with no clear note of it being quoted from something else. Allow me to paste the segment in its entirety.

"That's what a gaze is. Attention. An invisible string that connects us.�� Sole focus.  Do not come here, as there is no place for you to rest.  But you see, I could only bear fruit when I stood inside your sight. Is this what you wanted to see?  When your tears dry up at last, tell me your answer."

Interesting, isn't it?

However, we're not done yet. There is still the context of its appearance in Library of Ruina, so let's look at that, shall we?

In Library of Ruina, Burrowing Heaven's Abno Battle is placed on the Floor of Religion, aka Hokma's Floor, alongside Price of Silence, Blue Star, and WhiteNight.

Narratively, this Library Floor explores the faith and dedication that Carmen's group put into her and Ayin, especially from Hokma's perspective, who unconditionally put his trust into Ayin back when he was known as Benjamin. Thus, all of the Abnormalities fought on this symbolically represent Carmen's unwavering dedication to gathering like-minded people to make her dream come true, and the devotion those who followed felt towards her and her goals.

When it comes to the Burrowing Heaven, there is some more info we can gather from its Abno Battle in this game, starting off with its new appearance:

As you can see, the previously tree-like form has been replaced with one that very clearly represent a human's central nervous system, brain and spinal cord included. The bloody wings and eyes still remain though.

...Now. Those who have played Lobotomy Corporation might recognize what Burrowing Heaven is meant to represent in this form. And for those who haven't, allow me to show you something.

This is what became of Carmen after her death:

A disembodied central nervous system, with its nerves spread out in an almost wing-like fashion.

While most of the flavor text here repeats what we know about the Abno from LobCorp, there are a few unique pieces of text I want to shine a spotlight on right here.

"The desire for the unreachable will only grow bigger. And to pursue it… is to tread a path riddled with thorns."

"Basking in everyone’s gaze and attention… It will finally come to fruition and spread its wings."

"The one who spread their wings sacrificed everything they had, and yet…"

"Just close your eyes. That’s right, you’re doing good…"

"If we ever open our eyes again, will we get to see the fruit of our labor in that gaze?"

...In case you were wondering why I was being so scant on the interpretation part of this analysis, this is why. This connection is what changes Burrowing Heaven from a nebulous concept to a direct parallel.

Burrowing Heaven, at its core, is a reflection of Carmen. More specifically, Carmen's dream, and the way she and her followers acted to reach her goals. How, to pursue it, they had to single-mindedly focus on that goal, to make many sacrifices for the sake of reaching what seemed unreachable.

It could also represent how Carmen's seeming demise and the following tragedies happened because nobody paid attention to the warning signs, nobody focused on Carmen when she was at her lowest. And yet, those very tragedies are what led to even more attention being put on making progress towards that goal, towards Carmen's wings spreading out and reaching ever closer towards the heaven she so desired.

The gaze being put on her may have put her deep underground, in the vat where her nervous system became a source of Cogito... but it also eventually led to the breathtaking sight that was the Light. And now that there is no more gaze left on her, her wings can spread everywhere, blocking out the sun with her own Light.

When you think about it, isn't that how Distortions take place under Carmen's influence? Just close your eyes and ignore the world around you. Let your desires guide you. Just like Carmen is encouraging you to do, patiently. That's right, you're doing good, following what she says.

...Okay that's all fine and good, but what the fuck does all this mean for Stuck in Heaven? Let's get to that.

From just a cursory look at its physical description, Stuck in Heaven appears to be the next step of progression in this Heaven line of Abnormalities. From the tree-like form of the LobCorp Burrowing Heaven, to the brainstem in Library of Ruina, to Stuck in Heaven taking the form of growths directly growing over a person.

Interestingly enough, the Mirror Dungeon event describes Stuck in Heaven as having "the appearance" of a branch, yet being human. Curious.

This is also where a difference is established between Stuck in Heaven and Burrowing Heaven, with the event text directly referencing the Abnormality that Stuck in Heaven is related to.

"Heaven sometimes burrows; other times, it makes a home in the heart. Once taken root, that heaven will only be visible through the eyes of others."

Immediately, this tells us one major thing - Stuck in Heaven does not burrow like Burrowing Heaven, it does not need to feed on the attention people give through vision. Rather, the thing it aims to take root in is the heart.

The text you get from taking the [Close your eyes.] option explains why Stuck in Heaven does that. When it takes root in one's heart, closing one's eyes is not enough to get it out of one's gaze, as the sight it sought out is that coming from the heart itself.

I believe this is also why actually trying to [Return the gaze.] with one's eyes does nothing. With Burrowing Heaven, which actively sought out one's eye vision, one can find many references to it being alive and actively watching its observer back. However, trying to do so with Stuck in Heaven results in it ignoring the observer. The heaven Stuck in Heaven is looking for is not in the eyes, but past them. "Behind me", as the text puts it.

Now... all of that might not have much meaning without further context. After all, what's all this looking with one's eyes and looking with one's heart stuff about?

And this. Is where we get to The Little Prince.

Yeah, remember how Demian seems to be representing the titular Little Prince himself, through him directly quoting the kid?

Yeah, that's not the only thing Limbus Company borrows from that book. In fact, from what I've gathered, The Little Prince might just be one of, if not the most important books when it comes to the themes Limbus Company is setting itself up to explore.

And the main theme that Limbus Company borrows from that book is the theme of seeing with the eyes vs seeing with the heart. It is all over this narrative. The constant focus on perception and what everyone is percieving through their senses. The equal focus on the heart, of how subjective reality is when looking at the reflections of one's heart, yet how one has to follow the heart to reach the unreachable. I mean, for fuck's sake, the word Limbus can refer to both a part of the eye and a part of the heart!

Most importantly, I think it's also the key to understanding Stuck in Heaven a bit better. In The Little Prince, a clear divide is established between the Little Prince, who uses his imagination to understand his reality, and "the grown-ups", who focus solely on the physical world.

Stuck in Heaven's E.G.O Gift is named Late-Bloomer's Tattoo. A late-bloomer is someone who takes a long time to develop one's skills or grow up. For Stuck in Heaven to be able to leave its mark (or Tattoo) on someone, to take root in their heart, one has to not be a grown-up yet, to still be able to see the world with one's heart rather than one's eyes.

So... What does it all mean?

I'll be honest, I don't fucking know! I don't even know if Stuck in Heaven even still has connections to Carmen the way Burrowing Heaven does!

What I can say however, is that Stuck in Heaven is likely extremely interconnected with the main plot and themes of Limbus Company, the same way Burrowing Heaven was for Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina.

Does it represent the goals of Limbus Company itself? Faust? The Golden Boughs? The fucking Mark of Cain?

The reality of it all is... we just aren't far enough along in the story yet to be sure. The way it connects to one of the bigger themes of Limbus Company, alongside it being directly related to the Abnormality that was so directly paralleling the end-game reveals about Carmen in LobCorp, means that we likely just don't have enough of the puzzle pieces yet to see the full picture of what Stuck in Heaven truly represents.

I'm sure as we head closer towards Limbus Company's endgame, the true meaning of Stuck in Heaven will become much, much clearer to us. But, until then, all we can do is wait and see what comes next. It's definitely a subject I'll want to revisit later on, once we get a better grasp on the overarching plot and will be able to start properly connecting the pieces.

Sorry that I couldn't give a more definite answer as to what Stuck in Heaven's exact meaning is, but from all the analysis I've done I genuinely think this is the best answer I can give. That it's a direct parallel to something within the main plot of Limbus Company that we have yet to learn, similarly to how Burrowing Heaven is a direct parallel to Carmen and the path taken to reach her goals.

[bilightningwhumper]

Kyrie- The Year Before

Current "unofficial" Chapter Four of "Belonging to Nightmares"

"Belonging to Nightmares" Masterlist

*Warnings: torture, stress positions, burning, lady/female+nonhuman whumpee, nudity, dubcon/noncon intmacy, SA (very, very brief description/fade-to-black), drugging, manipulation, death, blood, abuse, conditioning, experimentation, manipulation/gaslighting, mentions and description of miscarriages*

[Basically, Kyrie goes through a lot and it's very long; SA in "One year ago" and "Three months ago"; Miscarriage des./men. in "Six months ago" and "Nine months ago"]

One month ago

Her body was screaming. How long had she been like this? Hours? Days? Weeks?

Dr Covenfere had chained and fastened Kyrie's arms up behind her back, raised so they hung at an angle. Not enough to dislocate, but she'd wished to the gods they would. If she had been injured like that, they would have stopped this new method of testing her. Instead, weights had been hung over her neck and shoulders, forcing her to strain to keep somewhat upright.

It had been easier to do this when she had been able to kneel. The floor of the cell was hard and unforgiving, bruising her knees as she shifted against the stone, but it had been bearable. Now her ankles and legs had been chained 'just so' to her waist so she had to keep herself up in the air to kneel or be seared by the burning coals beneath her. A delicate balancing trick that Dr Covenfere had perfected for 'her little test subject.'

Even with the brief allowances to drink water, she could barely sweat anymore.

The door opened in front of her, letting in a cold breeze that didn't even make her shiver or flinch. She'd learned very quickly that moving just a hair would throw off her careful balance. Once she was in pain, brain fuzzed by agony, it was hard to gain it again.

"Hello, my darling." the king drawled, the smirk clear in his voice. "Are you ready to behave today?"

A cover was placed beneath her, extinguishing the burning heat. She was given no warning other than the weights being removed before her chains were released and she fell in a heap to the floor.

Thoroughly exhausted, she just lay there. They were going to do what they wanted to her anyway. Might as well make them work for it.

Her hair was pulled by her ragged ponytail, the sight of Dr Covenfere's face greeting her blurry vision.

"You know what to do, girl." the scientist mono-toned. "Disappoint me and you'll be back in those chains."

She couldn't even grimace, let alone move her limbs. But she was able to her eyes as her head was dropped back to the floor.

It didn't take much effort anymore. Months of poking and prodding, forced to down terrible concoctions, days of painful seclusion... After everything they'd done to her, she could still manage to shift at her most depleted.

Bones shrank and moved. Her skin changed, becoming fluffier as her hair shortened and grew all over her body. When she was done, she'd become a small black dog.

Unfortunately, she couldn't hold the form for long, shifting back after barely a minute. Somehow more worn than before, her darkness edged in behind her closed eyes.

"It appears we have a new limit, your majesty." That aggravating monotone voice kept her from passing out. "But I believe it to be the subject's true limit. Any further may cause permanent damage."

The familiar repulsive feeling of the king's fingers in her hair made her flinch, making her wish she could smack his hand away. "Good." His voice grew closer as the scent of his perfumes and ointments grew stronger, not helping the fogginess in her mind as they overwhelmed her nose. "I told you we could break you, didn't I, bitch? So there will be no more of your rebellious outbursts, or I will order the good doctor to push for a new limit. But next time, it will be for your precious Minna. And we don't want that, now do we?"

If she could have responded, she would have bit him.

Instead, a mask was placed over her face, a bitter smelling gas filling her nose and lungs. She choked at first before her body turned heavy.

Then nothing.

~~~

One year ago

When Kyrie got home, she knew something was wrong. The air felt tense, thick. Going into the house, it was too quiet. No candles were lit. No firelight from the kitchen or smell of dinner cooking. No friendly chatter coming from the living room. Neither her parents or her siblings called out a greeting. It seemed like no one was home at all.

Cautiously, Kyrie crept through the hall to the kitchen. She could smell something nearby. Almost like.. metal? But everything was pitch black. Even the shutters had been closed, barely any light coming through the cracks for her eyes to adjust to at all. The only thing she could make out when she made it to the room was the empty dining table and faint bare counter-tops on the opposite side of the door.

“Hello?” she called out.

No answer.

“Anyone home?”

Still no answer.

Huffing, she felt her way to the other side of the room. At least if she could light the oven, she’d be able to see better. She tripped over something. A shoe? Gods, this better not be another one of the twins’ stupid pranks.

“This isn’t funny!” she said loudly, making it to the oven. And of course the flint and steel weren’t in their usual spot.

Something clattered behind her.

She spun around-

Only to see the faint shape of a pot had fallen from the top of the cabinet shelves.

“What did you expect?” she muttered to herself, turning back around. “Mom and Dad are running late and the twins decided to mess with you. Granted in the creepiest way possible. But nothing to-”

A hand clamped over her mouth while a large armored arm constricted around her waist.

Her scream was muffled by the glove. Her struggling meant nothing as more guards marched into the room. Two of them held lanterns, making her eyes water in the sudden light as someone else walked into the room between them.

Dr Covenfere? What was the king’s personal scientist doing here?

“Retrain her to the table.” the woman said sharply. “Hold the girl down and don’t let go, no matter what she does. Gag her, too. Screaming gives me a headache.”

Kyrie fought her best, wriggling and kicking her legs to no avail. Her head hit the table hard as the guard slammed her down. In her daze, four of them held her to the table, which she thought was a little excessive. Then her legs, still hanging over the table, were taken by two others. They held her firmly, tethering her feet securely to the table-legs before she could react. Someone else shoved cloth in her mouth, tying more around her head so she couldn’t spit the wad out.

Hands gripped her waist. “I would suggest you stay still, girl.” Dr Covenfere growled. “That is, unless you want to be paralyzed.”

Tears soaked the gag as Kyrie did her best to comply, but her body shook with the force of her sobs and panic. She felt the cold metal of a blade on her back as her dress was cut and torn down the middle, top to bottom. And it didn’t stop there, cutting through her threadbare undergarments, letting them drop to the floor and exposing her to everyone. Her skin crawled as the woman’s fingers brushed against the birthmark on her hip.

“Well, I’ll be.” She could barely hear the scientist, her voice so quiet she seemed to be talking to herself. “Palore was right. Which means…” Fingers pressed several points roughly between Kyrie’s shoulder-blades, making her yelp. “There it is.”

Now Kyrie did freeze, breath catching as something pricked her spine, numbness spreading from that spot on her back. She couldn’t feel anything at first. Then something warm and wet spread past the area, dripping down her body into her tattered dress. Even through her stuffed nose, she could smell the metallic scent of… blood.

The smell that had greeted her when she first walked into the house. It was blood.

She didn’t even try moving again as Dr Covenfere pulled back. “Got it. Now, one last thing,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Sorry, girl, but Beringer doesn’t like virgins.”

Something hard, cold, and wet touched the place between her legs, somewhere that only she and Minna had ever really explored. She shrieked into the gag as the object was shoved mercilessly inside, unforgiving as it split her open. Panting, she tried to breathe past the pain, tense and rigid as it was pushed back and forth before being taken out. The ache remained.

The guards let her go, but she didn’t move. She was so… confused. Hurt. Scared. Why her? Why her… her family? What had she done?

“Bring her out to the carriage.” the scientist ordered. “The king has waited long enough for this one.”

So they took her limp body, carrying her by her arms as her feet dragged and stumbled against the ground. At least some of her dignity was spared with her blood-soaked and torn dress still hung on by the sleeves to cover her front. Her eyes stayed fixed to the ground and…

She closed her eyes, choking back a sob as the sight of the newly illuminated bloodstained floor embedded itself into her mind. There were trails, pools of blood. It… She didn’t want to know what was there, where they led. She didn’t… she couldn’t look. Her throat involuntary choked and gagged even with the cloth shoved between her jaws as the stench burned into her nose before they went outside. The cool night air did nothing to remove that smell from her lungs.

Was this the truth behind becoming a companion to the king? But she’d seen the families of the new members of court, watched them move up in society, move to better positions as payment for selling their progeny to the king. So why… Why?

They practically tossed her onto the carriage floor, barely letting her sit up before locking the door with a sharp click behind her. Leaving her alone. No, not alone. At the feet of the king himself.

She sat back, curling her legs to her chest as she tried to keep herself covered with the ruined dress.

“Well, aren’t you just absolutely darling?” King Beringer said, his voice a low rumble, consuming and invading the small space.

Kyrie glared up at him. King or no king, she was not going to be treated like some… some thing. Like a toy, a possession, an object. She was a person, a human, same as him. Well, with this man, “human” was debatable. Regardless, her… her parents had taught her better than to accept being treated as less than.

When he reached down to her, she smacked his hand away, tearing the gag away herself and baring her teeth. A more animalistic growl than she expected came from deep in her throat. But when she saw the brief glint of fear in his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a grim sort of pride.

“Fascinating.”

He actually knelt down on the floor with her, even as the carriage started moving. Sweat built against her brow as he seemed to tower over her, more-so than when he had been seated above her. Backing away did little as she became more cornered against the door. She couldn’t dodge his hand this time as he went for her neck.

Squeezing her throat, he grinned, his own teeth bared, eyes cold. “Try anything and I’ll make your beloved Minna suffer more than her father already has. Understood?”

Swallowing hard against his grip, she nodded. When he let her go, she croaked, “What do you want from me?”

He didn’t answer her, more concerned with attempting to remove the rest of her dress. When she resisted, he gave her a sharp look. “Behave and I’ll tell you the truth. For a price.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes bore into hers. “I’ll take what I want regardless.” he snarled, sending chills down her spine. Then he spoke softly, his voice as smooth as honey as he caressed her cheek. “But I am a reasonable man. If you let me take you willingly, I’ll do one favor for you. One truthful answer. One request granted. Whatever you may desire, as long as it is within my ability.”

Her mouth went dry. “But I-” she cleared her throat. “I like women.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” he chuckled, pulling out a flask from his robes. “One drink from this and you won’t have to worry about that. So,” He held out the flask to her. “What will it be, my darling?”

She stared at the small metal canteen and for once words failed her. The last, what, hour of events had her head spinning. She wasn’t a noble. She wasn’t even from a well-off family. They’d barely scraped by. Minna was really her only connection to that world, but no one saw her friend as a “real” lady.

But now she had been forbidden from seeing or even talking to Minna ever again. All because Dr Palore had caught them kissing. She was just lucky that… Well, not so lucky. Her family was… They were…

“Why me?” she rasped. “I’m not anyone. Is this because of my being with Minna?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” King Beringer tutted, tilting her chin up with his free hand, that smile shifting to a smirk. “That’s two questions. But I’ll let you have them, since it’s your first time.” Then he offered her the flask again. “But, you have to drink all of it if you want both answers.”

Her stomach churning, she took it. The smell of whatever was inside was odd. Flowery, but bitter. She’d expected alcohol or something similar. Closing her eyes, she chugged it all down as fast as she could manage before she thought about it too much.

The effects hit her almost immediately.

It burned going down.

Her body slowly went fully limp, the flask slipping from her hand just as she finished the last drop. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Something started stirring under her skin. The same sensations she’d feel when kissing Minna, though they’d always stopped before things got too intense. But this fire… it was those same feelings, several times stronger. The ache since she’d been violated went away, replaced by this throbbing. A deep need for something her body wanted, but her mind did not.

If she could have, she would have started crying again.

Instead, she was as pliant as a doll, tears trapped in her eyes. Powerless as the king stripped her of her remaining dignity as he removed the rest of her dress. She was surprised her body didn’t shake with the force of her heart pounding in her chest. King Beringer’s fixed gaze of of hunger and greed made her feel dirty and disgusting all over.

“To answer your second question first,” he rumbled, lifting her onto the carriage bench. “It was because of Minna that I found you. How fortunate you fell for the daughter of the man who delivered you all those years ago.”

Her mind was scattered. It kept trying to focus on the little details around her instead of what he was saying. The coarseness of the seat against her skin. The gold accents blinking in the starlight from the windows on the roof. It took all of her effort to keep her attention on his words, everything to keep from being aware of his hands and-

“As to your first question,”

Gods, he was getting undressed.

“You are the answer to all my troubles. The key to my ultimate desire.” He spread her legs, pressing something warm to where her core had become wet. “Everything will be solved with my child growing inside your precious womb.”

The unshed tears in her eyes fell one by one as he used her, thrusting her roughly against the bench with his force. She could feel the bruises forming on her waist, her back, her legs.

When he was finally finished with her, feeling gradually came back to her body. Her limbs twitched slightly as she laid there, motionless. By the time the carriage had stopped, the servants taking her out and carrying her into the castle, she had mercifully fallen unconscious.

~~~

Six months ago

The dish shattered against the wall near Kyrie as she sat, shaking, on the floor. She could feel the blood leaving her body as her insides cramped and tore themselves apart. Something that shouldn’t be happening since she was… she had been… Gods, it was happening again. She was really losing another one. Sobs bubbled in her chest as she desperately tried to hold them back. It would only make the king angrier.

“Are you doing this on purpose just to spite me?!” he roared, pacing around the room, hands raking through his usually carefully styled hair. “Do you really think you can keep getting away with this?!”

Frantically, she shook her head, stopping as it made the world spin. “N-no, I don’t- I don’t know what h-happened-” she whimpered, flinching as another plate flew past her head.

The door burst open, Iris storming in, Cirila close behind her.

“Beringer, stop.” she ordered, eyes flashing.

As the king rounded on her, Cirila went right to Kyrie. He ignored the other companion, shouting at Iris, “This is none of your concern!”

“Seeing as she is not currently pregnant, your abusing my companion is very much my concern!” the queen shot back. Her words were even and firm, but Kyrie could see how her fists shook, hear the almost imperceptible tremble in her voice.

Cirila put a hand on Kyrie’s back, drawing her attention away from the couple. “Can you walk?” she whispered.

Kyrie shook her head, lip quivering as the arguing got louder.

With a nod, the other companion picked Kyrie up in her arms, barely hindered by the smaller woman’s many skirts. Not that she weighed much under the bulk of her dress anymore.

She weakly protested as they left the king’s chambers. “But Iris-”

“Will be back later.” Cirila said firmly, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Unable to argue, Kyrie let her head fall against Cirila’s chest, her arms wrapped behind the other woman’s neck as she brought her to the queen’s wing. She let herself cry now, shaking as the blood still flowed from her body. It was so much worse than the first time.

By the time she’d been brought to her bed, the queen’s doctor called for, she was in a daze, barely able to follow what was being said to her. Barely able to stay awake as they tended to her, trying to stop the bleeding that didn’t seem to end.

As darkness came over her, Kyrie’s thoughts floated through her mind. Not for the first time, she asked herself: What if she never gave the king a child?

~~~

Nine months ago

Kyrie wrapped her arms around herself as she huddled on the bench. Her whole body ached. After having to shift so much in the past week, it hurt not being able to. She’d just started getting used to it, too. For so long she’d felt odd in her body. Her whole life, really. Being able to shift felt so… freeing. Changing into whatever she wanted, even if she wasn’t able to right now. Not that she could control it yet. But it felt… nice. Really, really nice. Maybe that was the same thing Minna and her sisters felt when they used their abilities. Something as natural as breathing. Because it did feel suffocating when they put this cursed thing around her neck.

An itch built up in her nose.

Oh no.

She sneezed, wincing as her body attempted to shift, but her necklace burned, stopping the change before it could begin. The chip Dr Covenfere had dug out of her back months ago was now disguised as a lovely golden locket on a delicate golden chain. A chain that couldn’t be broken, no matter how hard she’d tried. Only the king and the scientist held keys to the damn thing.

“Hello.”

Just about jumping out of her skin, Kyrie looked up to see- Queen Iris?!

She scrambled to her feet, attempting to curtsy as best she could. “Y-your majesty!” she stammered, head bowed, eyes fixed to the floor. “I, um-”

Hands gently took her arms, lifting her out of the curtsy. “Oh, there’s no need for all that.” the queen laughed lightly, sounding almost… bitter? Sad?

Curious, Kyrie risked glancing up.

There were bags under the queen’s eyes. She didn’t wear makeup, Kyrie discovered. Her shoulders were down, but not relaxed. More like if she was carrying the weight of the world, though she held herself upright as if trying to hide it.

“You’re Kyrie, aren’t you?” she asked in that same tinged quiet voice. “You can just call me Iris. In settings like this, that is. I don’t mind.”

Humming, Kyrie chewed on her lip before blurting out, “Are you okay?” She immediately flushed, wishing she could take the words back.

But the queen just laughed, smiling more genuinely now. The regal woman sat on the bench before she offered the seat next to Kyrie. “You’re a straight-forward one, aren’t you?”

Still flushed, Kyrie took the seat. “I’m working on it.” she mumbled, fiddling with the decorative ribbons on her dress. The low neckline only made her more self conscious than it normally did being in the presence of someone so dignified. How was she supposed to hold herself? Or talk without looking like a fool?

A soft, warm hand took one of hers. She looked up to meet Iris’ eyes again. They were brown, like her own. Though a lot of people had brown eyes. Strangely normal for a noble.

“I don’t mind.” The queen was still smiling, her eyes kind. “It’s refreshing. Even my companions hesitate speaking so bluntly to me.” Then she frowned, her other hand coming up to Kyrie’s cheek. When Kyrie winced as the freshly covered cut met her fingers, her eyes hardened. “He’s not a gentle man, is he?”

Weakly, Kyrie smiled. Unsure if she could speak freely of the king here, she just said, “King Beringer isn’t bad. I just… Um.” Her breath shuddered, a lump forming in her throat. Memories of waking up, legs covered in blood, pain, so much pain, all flooded back to her. She tried to push them down, tried to forget again. The queen couldn’t help her with her troubles. Not that she would dare to ask. She cleared her throat, doing her best to give a more reassuring smile. “It’s nothing to trouble you, your majesty. The king cares for me in his own way.”

A bitter smile on her face, Iris tucked some loose hair behind Kyrie’s ear. “Sweetheart, you’re not alone. We’ve all been… cared for by him in the same way.” Then she did draw back, pulling down her neckline to show Kyrie her collarbone. A long jagged scar ran down, no doubt past her heart.

Kyrie could only manage to inhale sharply, clenching her hands into fists, as the queen put her clothes to rights before reaching into a hidden pocket in her skirts. Out of it, she took out a small jar.

“May I?” she asked. “It’s a healing salve.”

Tears sparked in Kyrie’s eyes. Suddenly she was at home, her mama gently chastising her for getting into another fight while she treated her various bruises. But she’d never got that mad, not really. Not when it had been because she’d been standing up for her friends. Usually it was for Minna, whom her parents had practically taken in as another daughter. Her parents…

The dam broke when arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the warmest and most comforting hug she’d had since being brought to the palace. Each sob heaved from deep in her chest. In the back of her mind, she worried about ruining her makeup or the queen’s dress. But the arms only pulled her closer, holding her tight. As the smell of Iris’ perfume grew stronger, she stopped caring about being dignified.

Even after her crying died down, after she had stopped sniffling and shaking, the older woman still held her close.

So she drew back herself, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. No doubt her makeup was already a mess and she didn’t really care much about her own dress. But she still took the handkerchief she was offered with a quiet thank you, using that instead. “Sorry, I’ve- I guess I’ve been feeling a little…” She swallowed hard. “Homesick.”

“That’s perfectly alright, hun.” Iris said kindly, rubbing her back gently. “Have you written to your family? I can arrange a visit, if you’d like.”

Kyrie hid her face, looking down as she fought back a new batch of tears. “They’re dead.” she croaked.

Silence fell between them. The queen just sat there with her as now silent tears traced down her cheeks, taking her hand again. Every time Kyrie thought she’d cried her last over her family, the grief overwhelmed her again.

“I lost my daughter. He took her from me, when he took my husband.”

Unsure, Kyrie looked up, tears still clouding her vision. She’d thought talking of before King Beringer’s rule was forbidden. But this was Iris. She was probably the only one that could.

“Genevieve would have been around your age now.” she continued, her voice turning wistful, eyes turned to the sky.

“How old would she be?” Kyrie asked, her own voice croaky and rough.

Sighing softly, the queen’s sad smile returned. Her own eyes were full of unshed tears. “Twenty-six years old.”

Kyrie couldn’t help but let out a small rueful laugh. “Just a year older than me.”

Iris hummed softly, turning to look at the younger woman thoughtfully. “Would you like to live with me?” she asked. It was odd to hear a woman with her position and power so hesitant and hopeful. “You would be the youngest, as most of my companions are closer to my age. But you would be welcome to join my court if you wished.”

“I-” Words failed her again. Live with the queen? Her? “Would it be allowed?” she asked tentatively. “He-” She couldn’t finish. Did Iris even know what the king was doing with her? His intentions? The experiments?

It was almost like a mask went on, like what she’d seen happen to Minna over and over. But it was different, like seeing a new side of Queen Iris. Someone with a spark in her eye, a jaw firm and determined, head held high and shoulders back as she nodded to Kyrie.

“I’ll see to it that it is.” she said fiercely.

Then she stood, turning on her heel to stride back into the main castle, leaving Kyrie to wonder ‘what just happened?’

~~~

Three months ago

Gods, she must be insane. After being so harshly thrown out from the king’s chambers for something Iris and the others assured her (repeatedly) was not her fault, here she was, standing in front of his door.

She’d already told Iris what she was planning. How she needed to know. Her queen had understood, even if she worried. After all, even with the experiments and testing she’d still had to endure, Kyrie was finally healthier now than she had been in months. Getting sleep, gaining weight, real color in her face rather than covered in layers of makeup. Doing this would most likely reverse all of her progress.

Before she could lose her nerve, Kyrie knocked on the door. With every heartbeat, she wanted to run. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor, even as she flinched when the door swung open.

King Beringer remained expressionless as he gazed down at her. “Well, well,” he drawled, his rumbling echoing through the empty hall, save themselves and the posted guards. “What brings you here at this late hour, my darling?”

Swallowing back bile, she stood at her full height. Even if she barely came up to his chest, she felt more confident in a dress she’d chosen, hair in a style she wanted, with the lucky charm Iris had given her heavy in her pocket. Looking directly in his eyes, she declared, “I came for a drink.” She couldn’t help but falter at his smirk, but continued, “And an answer.”

“Oh really?”

She forced herself to stay still as he took her chin in his hand, fingers tight on her jaw. It was extremely hard not to smack him as he looked her up and down, as if already undressing her with his eyes. So she settled with glaring at him.

He let go, stepping back as he held his arm out into the room. “After you, darling.”

Her heart pounding, she walked in. The original plan had been to stand outside, demand an answer before she even crossed the threshold. But her fear was beginning to override her confidence, desperation taking its place. She needed to know things and he was the only one who could tell her

The door shut with a firm thud. Now she was trapped. A mouse in the lion's den.

"So what is it you wanted, my darling?" He was behind her, his hands on her waist. They traveled up, his fingers brushing the neckline of her dress, his palms pressing into her breast's. His words were dripping in poison honey as he continued, his mouth hot against her neck. "Are you sure you didn't just miss my company?"

Without thinking, she shoved his arms away, red faced and shaking. It was already bad enough she had to do this. He really didn’t have to make it worse.

Stepping away, she turned to face him, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Why did you kill my family?” she asked shortly.

He regarded her, a look in his eyes she couldn’t read. “Your family,” he said, closing the distance between them, taking a loose strand of her hair between his fingers. “Was in my way.” His eyes bore into hers. “And I don’t like it when people get in my way.”

Pressing her lips together, she met his eyes firmly. That wasn’t a real answer and they both knew it. Every instinct told her that it wasn’t just because of her abilities that he wanted her for. He wanted her child, but why did it have to be his? And there was no guarantee that it would even gain her genes. So what was he not telling her?

“I came for the truth.” she said, firm and clear. “Not another half-truth. The full truth that you owe me.”

His face darkened as he grabbed her hair, yanking it back as she yelped and fought to free herself.

“That I owe you?” he snarled, face close to hers. “I owe you nothing, whore. You should be thanking me, freeing you from that pathetic life they’d given you.”

She had no choice but to stumble with him as he drug her across the room, still ranting.

“Dr Covenfere wanted to lobotomize you. Make you a nice little obedient doll for both of us. But, lucky for you,” He threw her on the bed, his smile not matching the lividity in his eyes as he looked down at her. “I like a challenge.”

Kyrie’s lip quivered as she retreated on the bed covers. Words stuck in her throat, only a strangled sound of protest coming from her mouth.

“Strip.” he ordered, taking off his shirt. “Unless you want me to rip that hideous rag off of you.”

She did as she was told, doing her best to keep it out of his reach. “Sh-shouldn’t I drink the potion now?”

“Oh,” Her stomach dropped as he pushed her to the sheets, his eyes more like a predator’s than hers would ever be. “We won’t be needing it tonight.”

~~~

Present day (Day of the funeral)

Kyrie was furious. Manipulating and telling half truths to her was one thing. But she’d obeyed King Beringer! She’d been playing by his rules, staying in line. Yet now he’d done this?

Her anger only grew as she watched Minna be supported by her sisters out of the palace and into one of their carriages home. How she longed to help herself, not to be trapped behind a window, stories apart from her.

As soon as the king returned to his chamber and removed her collar, Kyrie slapped him across his face.

“You bastard!” she snarled. “You scheming, vile-”

He hit her. Hard. A fist to her jaw, sending her tumbling to the floor.

She didn’t make the mistake of looking up as the king overshadowed her. Even as pressure on her ankle caused pain to surge through her nerves.

“I let you see her again.” he snarled, putting more weight on his foot to make her whine. “I gave you a choice. And yet you lash out at me when you don’t take it?”

Instead of breaking her ankle or leg, he stepped away, going to the fireplace and holding the metal end of the poker inside the burning flames. As he held it there, he met her eyes. “Here. Now.”

She didn’t know what would be worse. Him breaking her limb or whatever he planned for her now.

Reluctantly, she got up, resisting touching her still throbbing jaw. As she’d done so often, she automatically knelt by his side.

When he moved his free hand, she flinched. But he only reached into his pocket before letting the golden locket on its golden chain swing in front of her nose.

She put it on before she registered that’s what she was doing.

“That’s a good girl.” he purred, petting her hair. Gentler than before, he gripped the back of her head, pulling her head to make her look up at him. “Now that Dr Covenfere has her new test subjects, I’ll be fully in charge of your punishments.” He released her, pushing her down as he did so. “On your stomach.”

Shaking, she laid down on the carpet, her jaw and cheek becoming irritated by the coarse material immediately. This was worse. This was so much worse. She didn’t like being blind like this, not being able to see what he was planning. Powerless as she heard the king moving near her. There was no warning as he knelt on her back, pinning her firmly to the floor.

Kyrie could hear the smile in his voice as he gripped one of her ankles firmly in his hand, making her bend her knee as he pulled it up off the floor. “Feel free to scream as loudly as you please, my darling. I quite enjoy hearing your delicious sounds.”

Then, she was burning.

Of course she screamed. How could she not? The sole of her foot felt like it was on fire. No matter how hard she tried to wrench her leg away, his grip was unyielding. When he took the poker away, she wept freely, not caring if he punished her for it. Her tears only fell faster as he switched to her other ankle.

“Please,” she blubbered. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His grip only tightened. “It’s far too late for apologies, my darling. Clearly, I’ve given you too much freedom as of late.” The heat of the metal grew closer as he ignored her sobbing pleas. “Perhaps now you’ll remember you belong to me.”

This time when the poker came down and she screamed, louder than before, darkness gathered at the edges of her vision. She passed out before he’d even let her go.

---

When she woke up, she was disoriented. Both her hands and feet throbbed. As her eyesight cleared, she realized she was in her room. It was hard to focus on anything because of it. And her vision was blurry even in the dim light of the dark room. Not the king’s chambers or in the room by his. Her bedroom in her queen’s wing. And she was dressed. Only in a robe, but it was light and soft. Odd after so long of not wearing anything at all, but comforting.

Her attempt to sit up only resulted in a soft cry of pain and further throbbing in her hands.

Not even a minute later, Terrell walked in, Iris close behind him.

“I can’t even leave you alone for one second, can I?” he chided her, a wry smile on his lips but worry in his eyes.

Kyrie managed a weak smile, rasping, “Sorry. How long-” Her voice caught, coughing from her dry throat.

The two of them jumped into action, fussing over her. Iris helped her to sit up against the pillows and to drink some water, while Terrell checked on her bandages.

When Iris brushed her bangs out of her eyes, Kyrie couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Her fingers were cool against her skin. It was then that she registered that there wasn’t even a blanket over her.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two days.” Iris said quietly, putting her full palm against Kyrie’s forehead. “But your fever’s gone down now, so that should mean we’re past the worst of it.”

Terrell hummed in agreement. “If Beringer wasn’t such a stubborn asshole, we would have been able to help sooner. But instead he had to wait until your burns got infected before we could step in to help.” His voice was fierce, but his hands were gentle as he began unwrapping her hands.

They... were not a pretty sight. Kyrie's stomach churned, seeing her mottled pink and red skin.

"It was worse," Terrell said, carefully applying ointment as her skin tingled and stung. "We had to use the serum. I'm sorry."

Iris put her finger over Kyrie's lips before she could say a word. "If we didn’t, we would have lost you." There were tears in her queen's eyes. "You can be mad, but we didn’t have another choice. Kimberly is confined with her sisters in the manor. So..." she trailed off as her voice broke.

She deflated, what little energy she had leaving her body. As much as it hurt, Terrell's soft ministrations were somewhat relaxing. And she didn’t know what to think about the serum. On one hand, she hated the way they discarded her one wish. But on the other... she understood. And Minna would no doubt have insisted she used it, even if they both knew what it had cost.

"Your other friends from town. Their names are Sarah and Jarred, right?" Terrell asked.

Humming, Kyrie nodded, unable to keep her eyes open.

Iris' voice floated in her ears. "They're here, in the castle. Evidently, they sought employment here in an effort to find you."

Oh. That was nice.

"Wanna see them." she mumbled. Then yawned, trying to stay awake. "But not yet. Don’t want them to see... Tired..."

If anything else was said, she was too asleep to hear it.

Hope you liked it! No taglist so far, so let me know if you want to be on one for this!

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[edgessunflower]

Help me alone in the dark

Pairing: Damian Priest x Fem reader x Dominik Mysterio

Description: During the darkest time of your life, you are unexpectedly pulled out of the darkness and swept off your feet by two truly kind and wonderful men

The last thing you expected was not only to find pure happiness with another person but to find it with two people was the most unexpected and amazing change to ever happen to you. You're on edge as you sit backstage knowing something was going to happen, you went to get air outside but as you walk you are suddenly grabbed and beaten on the ground screaming in pain as you stare in the cold eyes of Randy Orton fighting as hard as you could until you were lifeless on the floor, you stare blankly at him walking away until you suddenly see more sets of feet wincing in pain as you try to breath turning your head to the ceiling as black dots appeared in your vision slowly everything went black the last thing you barely see before going out was a hand and someone's eyes, you wake to see six people around you "Thank god we got a match against him" you turn to see your friend Dominik next to you with Damian on your other side. You see Rhea at the foot of your bed with Jey Uso beside her while Finn sat next to the doorway and Rey leaned against the wall until tears flowed down your face and grabbed dom making him jump up and hug you as you squeeze damian's hand while everyone else is relieved of you being awake each of them hugging you, slowly you recovered and instead of being alone like before dom and damian were by your side from the moment you came home even spending nights at your house until one day you almost fall over when you realize how much you truly cared for the two men, you end up spilling everything to jey who told you to follow your heart even if you were terrified of caring so deeply about your two friends deciding to take the risk and tell them, you were walking to your room when you turned and gently called the two before saying words you wanted to say for so long "I love you boys" you walk in your room right after saying the words. You sit down on your bed until you sit in the corner of your window staring at the dark sky filled with stars until you hear your door open turning to see dom beside you and damian walking to the two of you before they are both an inch in front of you "We have been hiding something from you and...God we don't want to lose you" you feel as if your gonna burst as you hear what they both were saying until you are gently pulled up between the two realizing as you look at dom that it was his eyes you had seen before you went out after the attack which makes you tear up as you smile at the two before turning and kissing damian that made your mouth tingle, your heart race, and your body feel warm everywhere as you pull away to catch your breath while he rubbed his thumb against your hip having a chill run down your spine as you feel dom's fingers run down your spine feeling your heart stop when you see damian's hands on the waistband of your shorts before you see the two looking at you patiently which made you feel safe as you slowly nod raising your arms making them smile before in one movement you were standing in your under clothes "Strapless huh?" you raise a brow at dom smirking at you while damian chuckles placing a kiss on your cheek. You stop them grabbing and holding their hands as they see tears flow down your face but you smile at them when they think you changed your mind "I was going to tell you guys but I didn't know how..." you are pulled into their arms as you slowly let the emotions pour out of you with your head on damian's chest and arms wrapped around both of them while holding their hands "The two of you have brought more than just friendship into my life, you've brought true honesty, raw kindness, and unconditional love that you saved me without either of you even knowing" they smile before sharing a kiss with you before all three of you shared one before things took a slow, romantic, and emotional turn between the three of you.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Gilded Cage" - Dark!Morpheus x Reader [TW: dark themes (referenced depression and suicide), obsessive behaviour, explicit language, glorifying captivity?, cringy lines]

[Next part: 'Silvered Perch']

SUMMARY: Your unhappiness seeps into your dreams. The pain in them piques Morpheus's interest. From the very first moment he sees you, he knows what he has to do, regardless of the price. A queen, after all, ought not to have a single hair fall from her head.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.3k

This story began when I fell asleep There was a mysterious ache inside me  All my faults and thoughts buried deep And in this world, I was nothing and everything A lost soul with too many secrets to keep Looking at the bright streets beneath I was wandering the edge of universe yet I couldn’t leap The cold breeze wrapped around me The Moon and the stars silent as I weep I became the brass and the gold, an abyss and a god L’appel du vide

Your dreams were like an itch he couldn't scratch, a speck of dust he couldn't get out of his eye; always in the back of his head, a shadow dancing at the edge of his vision. Had they been in any way pleasant, he wouldn't mind them as much - God knew how much he needed something pleasant in his otherwise bleak life. But they weren't anywhere close to "nice". The darkness residing in your dreams bothered him to no end, never quite letting him go like a blister that is scratched open with each painful step. Strangely enough, such a course of events was completely foreign to Morpheus - people's dreams and nightmares never stuck to him for longer than the fraction of a second between an exhale and an inhale.

At first, he feared he became privy to the first tremor of a shattering earthquake, that your misery was an omen of something much darker and sinister. Fearing for the well-being of his realm, Morpheus followed your dreams to venture into the Waking World and find you. Honestly, he was expecting to uncover a true calamity but he never did see it - at least not in the form he had thought.

What he saw was, in fact, a lot worse. All calamities have a source, the eye of the storm, but this one clearly didn't. It would all be very bitterly funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking - how everything you touched ended in pain and loneliness, rarely because of you at that. Your frustrations quickly became his own. Watching you go through every day like you were screaming at the world to let you be happy, to let you have something good for a second, but the entirety of creation was separated from you by a glass wall: you could only watch and weep. Were you cursed or hexed? No, he would have noticed something of that sort. Then what was it? What unnamed sorcery made you the scapegoat of humanity?

He once spent an entire night standing under your window like Romeo admiring Juliet. For hours on end, you were sitting with your face against the cold glass, eyes forever watching the moon travel across the black sky. Your tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as your vacant stare begged the universe for an explanation of its injustice. It pained Morpheus how beautiful and tragic you looked. Perhaps you truly weren't of this world? Would you not find your place in a baroque painting? Part of him wished he could paint that heartbreaking view. Not for his selfish pleasure, no, but for the whole world to be reminded of its barbarity until Judgment Day.

And Morpheus simply stood there until sun rays chased the world's dreams and nightmares away. He wasn't quite sure why he remained a watcher for the entire night. Maybe you appeared so distraught and fragile he feared that the moment he looks away the sunless abyss of secrets unspoken will devour you; that if he left his post there would be nothing tying you to this realm.

A lot has changed because of that night but mostly Morpheus himself had undergone some kind of transformation - he became quieter if that was ever possible and more irritable. He would pace around the throne room, clearly thinking intensely about something but never revealing what it was. And with time, he began to neglect his royal duties, disappearing for hours if not days on end, only to come back and refuse to give any explanation.

Little did you know that he was always there like a guardian angel that never abandoned its duty despite being exiled from heaven; hiding around corners as though he was a mere delusion that lingered on the edges of your vision. Wherever you went, he followed, often leaving pain and terror behind. Things started becoming weirder around you in the sense that people would fall to strange ailments or spiral into madness. Some never woke up, while others went for days without sleep. A snarky acquaintance did everything they could to not fall asleep in fear of the nightmares that awaited them. A cynical relative lost their mind and claimed that horrendous creatures from their night terrors trespassed into reality. Perhaps it was crude to say so but you felt a sense of relief at those tragedies: people too busy with their microapocalypses were too busy to add nails to your coffin, too preoccupied with themselves to put you on the receiving end of their wickedness.

But to Morpheus's terror, his tricks and punishments were not enough to aid your woe. They were merely temporary solutions like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. His anger only grew as the universe laughed in his face and continued its merciless quest for maintaining your unhappiness. Morpheus was forced to watch you being stuck in a cruel cycle of perpetual misfortunes and how you'd cry yourself to sleep only to somehow get out of bed in the morning and carried on, day by day. You were akin to Atlas but Atlas only carried the globe, not the peskiness of the cosmos like you did.

The streetlights lit brightly underneath you. Cars and motorbikes sped through the labyrinth of streets as if chasing time itself. Someone was walking their dog, a man was going home after his shift, a couple chatted happily while walking to a restaurant. They were each in their own microcosms, moving to the rhythm of life. All, except you. How could everyone simply live on, find balance and happiness in their unchanged daily bread? Was there something you missed? A secret you were never told? Or, perhaps, the answer was a lot simpler: you didn't deserve contentment. The fact that you came into this world was nothing more but a slip-up, a stumbling step taken while the person blinks.

You looked at the people filling the streets beneath you. From the distance, they were all so small, unimportant, cold. They never looked up to the tops of buildings, never acknowledged the acrobatics of someone struggling to cling to life. Even if they did, they probably wouldn't care - your hypothetical death was, after all, none of their business. Standing on the rooftop, you were no longer part of the same plane as them. Perhaps, you never truly were. Is that what birds saw as they flew over your head?

The rooftop was so high and the street so low... Would it hurt to fall? And the falling, would it take long? Lying on the cold cobblestone, your hot blood warming the otherwise cold world, how would this starry sky look? Would this rooftop look as faraway then as the street looked now? Would the pavement feel rigid and uncomfortable under your broken bones?

But, maybe, you had the strength to try one last time before taking that path. You looked up at the starry firmament and let out a sigh before speaking quietly. "Hey," you called out to the night sky, "if there's anyone out there, and I highly doubt that, can you help me a little? Life's a bitch, you know? I just... I just need a win. Something good, no matter how small, so I don't feel like my entire existence is pointless if not a burden. But if there really is someone out there, you're probably busy anyway. I mean, there's more important work to do than answer my whining, right? Wars to end, cancers to heal... But if you have a spare second, maybe you could give me something good. Or kill me, I don't care anymore."

"I have listened to your prayer and I heard your suffering."

Surprised and confused, you turned around to look at the stranger. He was tall and lanky, with dishevelled hair and a cold look in his eyes. In some strange and fascinating way, he did not look real but rather like a scribble that came to life; like a raven if it was reborn as a human.

"Who are you?"

"I am Morpheus, Lord of the Dreams," he slowly spoke in a low tone. "I came to answer your call."

As strange as it was to admit it, that was the truth: for the first time in your life, somebody answered your prayer. "I'm sorry, I didn't actually think this would work. I'm not much of a believer."

"And yet I came. Why did you call?"

No words left you at first. A shattering, painful tremble clawed through your body as that gaping hole in your chest was reponed. This sadness... it felt like being stabbed; like your body was so numb in its agony that you couldn't breathe. The full moon's silver light glistened in your tears as if it wasn't you weeping but the stars.

"I am violently unhappy," you confessed.

You didn't see it but Morpheus clenched his fist for a moment, which was more than strange - after all, he knew about your misery beforehand. Perhaps it was your admittance, irrefutable proof of your awareness of the injustice bestowed upon you, that gnawed at him. "Why is that?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"God, where do I even begin... It feels like everyone around me has something I don't like a love song only I can't hear. There's something wrong with me, I wasn't meant to be born into this world. I don't belong here. Nothing I do has any value, I can't keep up with the rest. You try and you try and it's never enough. No matter what you do or how. No one cares about your pain until it somehow involves them. I'm just so... tired."

"They will never stop disappointing you," he said as he walked towards you. Whether it was his own belief or merely something you wanted to hear, didn't matter. For Morpheus, it was one and the same.

"Every day I wake up to a web of human lives I've been woven into against my will, fulfil meaningless duties no one likes and yet everyone follows. Then I come back home to rest only for this pointless cycle to begin again in the morning. And I can't help but wonder if there is no third act where I'm someone special? Where I matter? Is this bland suffering all there is?"

"No," he spoke barely above a breath. "There is much, much more to this world. I could free you from this life."

"Free me?" you asked with a dry scoff. "I am as free as one can be: I love nothing and I'm loved by no one."

Morpheus, however, was a steadfast person and that annoying affliction only grew in strength the longer he was in your vicinity as if your presence was gradually gnawing at his sanity. It was an exchange he'd welcome more than warmly: his reason for your companionship. "You could be the pinnacle of my desire, the anger that forces my hand. All that breaks your heart will have to beg for my forgiveness. There shall be no day when all of my existence does not belong to you. I will bleed out just to quench your thirst." He took another step towards you, his face leaning in so close your noses were almost brushing. "If you do not wish for this freedom, let me imprison you." Then, in a wavering voice, he added: "Please."

His offer made your heart nearly jump out of your chest but you knew better than to immediately agree - he didn't deserve such a burden. Feeling shame and disgust with yourself, you looked away from him. "You will change your mind the moment you get to know me. I'm nothing interesting or worth loving."

Morpheus lifted his hand to your face. His index finger anxiously brushed against your cheeks as if you really were a baroque painting that he defiled with his undeserving touch. Morpheus spoke ever so quietly: "Had I whispered your name to Moses, the whole world would watch God's chosen discard the first commandment."

"Sounds blasphemous," you answered equally quietly. When your breath brushed against his cold skin, a shiver run down his spine. Perhaps if he could fill his lungs with your breath he would never feel sorrow ever again.

"Not to the goddess I worship." His blue eyes, the colour of a raging sea, stared into yours. There was so much he wished to say, unspoken confessions that would embarrass poets but he had a lot of time - all of eternity, in fact.

"Where will you take me?"

Dream's hand gently fell from your face to your own palm. Temptingly, his finger wrapped around yours. "To Dreaming - your new kingdom, my queen."

And from that day on, you never looked back. Never once did the faraway streetlamps visit your thoughts. There was only him: the eldritch king that fell to his knees begging for your affection that you so happily granted. Your desires became his, your pleasure his joy and your discomfort his anger. If he could tear himself apart, he would hand-feed you the pieces that were once him.

It was strange - how comfortable imprisonment could be, to be forever tied to someone. After all, aren't trees prisoners of their roots? And yet should they struggle free, they would fall straight away and die of thirst.

Were you not a bird of paradise? Sitting on a perch in a gilded cage only because someone liked your feathers or your song. All the comforts you were given, wishes that he granted, just so you stay the canary that sings his loneliness away. And like a bird, you were released from your cage only to be imprisoned by the confines of Dream's home. The bird, however, rejoices! For it never knew such freedom.

[blueicequeen19]

Part two to this and timed 6 months later…

@fiction-is-life @haven247 this one’s for you

Warnings: none, just angst

You’d hidden it as long as you could. You’d cut off your friends. You hid from your parents. You stopped partying. You blocked certain people on your phone. You even wore baggy clothes. Thankfully, it was winter time so no one really questioned that. But two people were very persistent. They both showed up everywhere and you did everything in your power to avoid them.

Rafe knew about JJ but JJ didn’t know about Rafe. And god help you when he does. But he’d soon figure it out. Everyone would now that you were showing and would continue to only get bigger. The secret was out and you were waiting for one or both of them to corner you and demand answers. It didn’t take long.

“Is it mine?” Your hand froze on the handle of your car and you saw his reflection in the glass, his face hard as he waited for your response. You slowly turn and face him, your emotions threatening to bubble over. You expected this but not this sudden.

“No.” You said softly, your chest tight with anxiety. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, hurt written all over his face. You wanted to cry and beg for him to forgive you. You didn’t want this.

“It’s Rafe’s, isn’t it?” JJ asks, his voice cold and his expression blank. You don’t answer. You don’t have to. Word spread pretty fast on the island and it only took one person witnessing how many times you had to run Rafe off.

JJ shakes his head, his hands trembling as he scratches the scruff on his chin.

“I wish it was yours.” You blurt, blinking back tears. He chuckles humorously. His rage washed over him and you knew there was no use trying to talk to him like this.

“Do you?” His words are laced with malice and you flinch. “Seems like to me that you’re going to be set for life. Cameron won’t let his kid grow up a Pogue. You sure as fuck won’t be one anymore. We all know how he is with his toys and now you’re one of them.” Your eyes fall closed as tears stream down your cheeks. His words hurt but that didn’t mean they weren’t true. You were relieved your child wouldn’t have to go without. If Rafe decided to step up.

“How could you do this to me?” JJ steps towards you, his angry eyes full of tears. Your own anger blooms and you plant your hands on his chest, shoving him.

“Me? I did this? You broke up with me!” You cry, your vision blurry with tears.

“That doesn’t give you the right to fuck the one guy I hate more than my dad!” JJ yells back.

“We weren’t together anymore!”

“And yet you found some way to make sure you hurt me. Good for you.” JJ turns to leave but you grab his arm, not ready for this to be the end.

“You left me. You don’t get to be mad over what I do when I’m single. I didn’t plan on getting pregnant. It only happened once and we were both drunk and I felt like shit afterwards. I wanted you back but I knew you wouldn’t have me after what I did. Especially now that I’m pregnant by someone else.”

“It’s not even that you’re pregnant by someone else. It’s because of all the guys on the island you could screw, you chose Rafe. You were trying to get back at me. You wanted to hurt me.”

“Well you hurt me too! Doesn’t mean I stopped loving you!” Everything seems to freeze at your words. Minutes seem to tick by as your eyes remain locked. So much time passed that you opened your mouth to beg him to speak when he takes a step back, his head hung.

“It’s not enough.” JJ turns his back on you and heads back to his truck, leaving you broken more than you already were.

You got into your car and drove with no real destination in mind. People stared at you as you drove with tears streaming down your face. One person even tried to get your attention at a stop light but you ignored them.

It wasn’t until the white mansion came into view that you’d realized where you’d ended up. You hadn’t even exited your car when Rafe appeared. He opened his mouth to speak until you pushed the door open and stepped out, letting him take you in.

Rafe was genuinely shocked but he wasn’t angry. His hand immediately went to your bump and you wanted to back away, wishing it was someone else but it didn’t matter what you wanted anymore. You had to do right by your baby. He or she deserved a father.

You thought he’d be angry that you’d ghosted him for the last 6 months but whatever he had wanted to say had dissolved and he only wanted to talk about you and the baby. He seemed to want you both taken care of and he wanted to be the one to do it.

That night, he introduces you to his father and step mother and although you can tell they’re both faking their happiness for the two of you, you have no doubt that they will be there no matter what. Rafe seemed to crave his fathers attention and approval so you went along with whatever he told him. Plans for the baby, plans for you, plans of being a couple. Whatever he said, you agreed with.

If only you’d taken the time to return home before dinner. You’d have found a defeated stubborn blonde with a bouquet of flowers and your favorite chocolates waiting on your door step.

[seraph-of-sizes]

AS I SAID,I AM GIVING U THIS RN

So I know am obsessed with this but I cannot find stuff like this anymore so yeah :(

So 5/6 words..

Giant venti with child human/reader

And I always ask the child thing cuz I am thing g/t things with tiny/human child is adorable….and my oc is a child…

THATS ALL TYSM FOR UR ATTENTION💕💕💕

I adore Venti so much, favorite Archon go brrrrrr. Sorry this took so long, I actually survived a tornado over the weekend, thankfully I was just visiting the area so I didn't have any damage, but a friend I knew that lived in the area did so I was helping them out. Thanks for the patience all the same <3

--------

“Little one you’re a bit far from home.” You giggled softly at the familiar breeze that wrapped around you. It smelled like Sunsettias, which was good, that meant your friend actually ate something today.

“I wanted to see you though!” You pouted as you looked up at the entrance to the broken temple place. “I got a vision!”

“Oh?” You clapped eagerly as the familiar teal eyes slowly blinked open in front of you. The big Bard pulled himself up a little so he could see you properly, ever so gently ruffling your hair with a single finger. “What element is it?”

“Anemo!” You exclaimed proudly. “Mama said Bardabatos gave me his blessing!”

Venti barely held back his laughter at the butchering of his Archon name. “I see, you must have impressed the Anemo God for sure.”

“I think he’s happy I made friends with you, Mister Bard!” You grinned, the wind gently playing around you, at your whim and Venti’s supervision. “Does that mean I get to see you stand up now?”

Venti bit back a groan. He had promised you that when you were older and gained a vision he would show you his entire form. He didn’t think it would come so soon, nor that you would remember the promise. 

“Alright little one, but we’ll have to be careful. If the wrong person sees me stand up they could hurt me.” He hummed softly, the noise causing you to giggle more as the air around you practically vibrated with the sound. “Come here, I need to make sure I don’t lose you now.”

You practically threw yourself into his open hand, the warmth of his hand was like the nicest bed in the world. You watched in awe from where you were laying on your back as he began to get up, your mind spinning like the windmills as he seemed to unfold. White fabric wrapped around him, but as you watched it slowly changed to green. Eventually he was sitting upright and you jumped up in indignation. 

“You’re not standing up!” You accused, pouting as he merely chuckled at you. 

“I can’t stand up here, I’ll break the rest of the Thousand Winds Temple little one.” Venti explained softly. “And I don’t want to scare anyone in Mondstadt that might see me from the city. They don’t know about me after all.”

“Oh right! Mister Bard is supposed to be a secret.” You sighed softly, playing with your vision. “I hope Bardabados keeps you safe from any mean people.”

“I’ll be fine, little one.” Venti smiled, slowly laying down again but on his back this time. “When you get much older, find the Dandelion Sea. I’ll show you my true height then, alright?”

“Okay!” Venti smiled at the eagerness in your voice. He watched as the sky began to burn with sunset and sent you off back to Mondstadt. He stared at the sky as the stars began to appear and smiled, tracing the new constellation in the sky. 

It looked amusingly similar to a wind sprite.

[slepoepyatno]

Drawings and text for ask. My headcanon on what happened to the little ghoul in the ending of The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath

When Richard Upton Pickman was able to rise from the black onyx floor in Unknown Kadath, the silhouettes of Carter and all of his fellow ghouls disappeared into a flickering, ominous light.

The loud whine of the trumpet deafened him, forcing him to fall to his knees again. It seemed that the bulky wall around and even the air itself were shaking in a single eerie groan. The light flickered, dimming under the onslaught of black smoke, thickening with every moment, which seemed to appear from the very darkness in the far corners of the hall. Slowly, with royal leisurely, the darkness turned into a figure. The black robe flowed across the floor, and no matter how hard he tried to strain his eyes and focus, Pickman could not distinguish where the smoke ended and the fabric began.

Golden jewelry refracted the dim rays of light, blinded his eyes, which had long been accustomed to existing in the darkness, his sensitive sense of smell caught the intensifying aroma of sandalwood and some other incense, the names of which he did not remember or, probably, did not even know. The pungent smell was suffocating, and the hum of pipes and vibration of air still echoed in his head as a mocking cacophony.

There was no need to be surprised or ask questions. It was pointless. Should he have expected to meet anyone else in a castle on top of unknown Kadath?

However, it was worth thanking the gods or other forces, in which he, if he believed, did not reverence too much, for the mere fact that the Messenger of Other Gods mercifully chose the most human-like form for this meeting.

The god could barely contain his grin as he watched this pitiful creature in front of him. In the mock majestic tone that had so impressed Randolph Carter in a similar scene, at the same moment in time, he began his speech:

- Greetings, oh fearless dreamer! I am impressed by your courage and firmness on the way to the forbidden lands surrounding the onyx castle of the Unknown Kadath.

Your faithful comrade, Randolph Carter, who risked disturbing the peace of the gods and challenging me, has already received his reward. At this very time, as we are talking, he is preparing to saddle the Shantak bird and go to the wonderful aisles of his desired Sunset City in order to forever surround himself with the dreams and visions of his childhood. The cherished desire of his rebellious mind is about to come true...

Nyarlathotep paused, spreading his arms like a stage actor, enjoying the effect. He towered over the bent Pickman, like an ancient statue of a black monolith.

- However, we still have some unfinished business. Another figure doomed to remain forever in the shadow of the ancient buildings of Salem, the picturesque hills of Providence, the gloomy gable roofs of Arkham and, finally, the golden reflections of the Sunset City... isn’t it? A creature that is forced to wander forever on the border, not experiencing full acceptance in any of its havens.

Looking meaningfully straight into the eyes of the defeated creature before him, Crouching Chaos continued his speech with unexpected warmth.

- I want to reward you for your courage, Richard Upton Pickman, for your devotion to the Dream World and your comrade. Because the shackles of the Real World could not contain your daring mind. They never could.

For this, I will give you what you were deprived of all these dark years spent on earth, in sorrowful loneliness. I will show you what trace you left in the hearts of people and how gloriously your blessed memory is honored.

Watching the frail figure of the former artist dissolve, swallowed up by darkness, the god could not help but laugh.

[synthy-sizer]

5 MONTHS AGO

Whenever you look at Sofia, you can practically see the web of connections, information, the threads of fate all connected to her. There's so many that they overlap into a single white aura, before branching out into an endless spiderweb. You've read before that the sight of angels is like that. They can see everything about everything, an endless stream of data covering their entire visions. Just looking at a table would tell them the dimensions of every part, the materials, the varnish, the number of screws and bolts, and how many hands had ever touched it. They could even see the entire timeline of it from the sapling of the tree and the ore in the dirt all the way till it was rust and rot.

You like to think sometimes that that's what you see when you look at people. But you know that can't be true. You can't see everything you were promised, and you can barely comprehend what you can see. It hurts your eyes and your mind, overwhelming your senses, leaving you overstimulated and fighting to ground yourself. Despite everything, you're frustrated to find that you still need guidance.

“Sorry again that I keep doing this, starting to answer your questions and stopping. There's just…a lot going on in my head.” She tilts her head at you. You lack the words to explain the situation to her, just like how you feel unable to grasp at the threads of your destiny. “I think, by and large, there's only one thing you want to know, right? I told you I talked to God.” She nods. “Yeah, I figured as much. That deserves an explanation.”

…..

??? YEARS AGO

You hold your hand to your brow and blink away the light as you once again emerge on the beach, out of the dark. At least this time you weren't drowning. Now that you're back at the dock, you need to consider your options. Despite the strangely familiar sensation in the back of your mind suggesting that the dock is far enough to reach, you can see just fine that it's the length of a normal dock. It won't just continue far into the ocean. You need some way of crossing the water, but you don’t exactly enjoy the idea of swimming. Maybe the dock was designed with a vehicle in mind, like a large ship or a submarine, but you doubt you'll be seeing one anytime soon. You pace around in the white sand, considering, and you feel your foot press against something firm. You crouch down and dig with your hands, and see something that could single handedly save you; the undeniable wooden curve of a boat. With no other option, you start digging.

The white sand seems to sparkle the lower you dig. Your fingers almost look like they're covered in white glitter. You have no idea how long you spent shoveling sand with your hands, but eventually you've moved enough to tug the boat out of its tomb. With the boat out, you examine the bounty of your efforts. It looks like an old rowboat. The wood is dark with age, but it looks like it will hold water. Experimentally, you heave it into the water and watch it carefully. It bobs in the black waves faithfully. There's no water pooling inside. That's a good start. Now, you just need oars. With any luck, they'll be around where the boat was buried.

It takes a bit of searching and experimenting with fallen branches, poking in the dirt and leveraging them to feel any resistance, but eventually you locate the 2 oars. They're equally showing their age, but they feel sturdy. Now, you suppose, all that's left is to set off. You walk alongside the boat until it's deep enough, hop in, and start rowing.

Once again, you can't be sure how long the journey took. The beach slowly faded away, and all you were left with was the black of the ocean below you and the white of the sky above. It felt intangible, as if you had wandered into a different plane of reality altogether. But beyond that, it also felt transient. You somehow knew despite its appearance that it couldn't last forever. It was like a slipstream between realities. All you had to do was cross it. Still, the end came abruptly. Despite its closeness, the gargantuan pillar seemed to blend in with the sky, to the point you almost crashed straight into it. But thankfully you were attentive enough to notice. Barely. There's a landing carved into it, perhaps not a dock, but still at the right height for you to climb on. You carefully get the boat right up against it and hop up.

The space you find yourself in now is even stranger than the black sea you just traveled across. It's hard to even make out the fine details of the room due to it all being made of the same white marble. You would almost say it was carved out of the pillar, but the cuts look too smooth and clean for even the most advanced cutting and carving tools you've ever heard of. It's uncertain what exactly you need to do next. But there is a set of stairs. Nowhere to go but up. You start climbing. And climbing. And climbing. You walk up stairs for what must have been years. As you climb, you see things. Things impossible to describe in words, and too many to describe at all. The higher you climb the more the essence of the pillar makes itself clear to you. It contains homes, storefronts, roads, entire cities. An entire civilization lived on this leg. The pillar starts to widen and curve as you get higher, and your occasional views from the perfectly cut windows show you that there's 8 others just like it, all converging into a dome. The sky isn't real. It's carved tiles that glow a now harsh white, the dullness completely removed now that you're so close. People lived here. A society lived here, across 9 gigantic city-sized legs supporting a gigantic dome. But why? How long had they existed? How long did it take to build? Who lived here? Who made it? And perhaps, more importantly than anything else….

Why is it totally abandoned?

Every single block, every home, every store, is empty. All carved from the same uniform white. And this gigantic feat of engineering and art is abandoned? What were they running from? You climb and you climb and you climb, until finally you reach the top. It must have been decades, now. It feels like it, at least. Years of walking, exploring, pausing and dealing with the dread, and walking again. Being at the top feels unfathomable. There's a landing at the top, a flat disk that overlooks the entire world. You can see the shape of the vaguely circular island with its dark green trees, and the black ocean far, far below you. And there's more stairs. A spiral staircase, leading up. A harsh white glow shines from the vertical tunnel in the roof. Once again, nowhere to go but up.

You climb the stairs, the light growing harsher and harsher, until…..

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[deputyclover]

Hopes and Dreams

*Clover, Rose, and Kanako open their eyes and see Asriel.

Clover: Who...?

Kanako: Where's Mom?

Rose: Where is everyone?

Asriel: Finally. I was so tired of being a flower.

*Asriel turns around smiling.

Asriel: Howdy! Chara, are you there? It's me, your best friend.

*The three of them look confused.

Rose: Who are you talking to?

Asriel: Why you silly!

Rose: What?

*Asriel transforms as he throws fireballs at the duo who dodge them when the Barrier starts changing colors.

Clover: DODGE IT ALL!!

Rose and Kanako: Right!

*The three repeatedly dodge the attacks, and everyone is filled with DETERMINATION.

*Everyone falls multiple times, souls cracking but...

*They refused.

Kanako: HOW ARE WE BACK???

Rose: I DON'T KNOW!

Clover: We've all got determination, even you Kanako, now...

*Clover raises his sword in the air as it shines.

Clover: We can do it.

*Kanako nods smiling and summons a red staff as Rose uses Earthbending.

Asriel: Now, enough messing around! It's time to purge this timeline once and for all!

*Asriel uses Hyper Goner.

*They're still standing as Clover tosses stuff to heal.

Asriel: Even after that attack, you three are still standing in my way? Wow, you REALLY are something special. But don't get cocky. Up until now, I've only been using a fraction of my REAL power! Let's see how good your DETERMINATION is against THIS!!

*Asriel widens as he turns into the God of Hyperdeath.

Kanako: I can't move!

Rose: Daddy! Daddy!!!

*Clover stands there, calming his mind.

Asriel: Urah ha ha ha... Behold, my TRUE power!

*Everyone gets hit multiple times, dying multiple times.

Clover: ENOUGH.

*Clover, Rose, and Kanako are unstuck.

*Clover SAVES as Ceroba appears.

Kanako: Mom!

*Clover, Kanako, and Rose proceed, saving all of their friends, but Clover realizes he can save one last person.

Clover: ASRIEL DREEMURR!

Asriel: Huh? What are you doing...!?

*All four of them see a vision of the first human to fall, and Asriel finding them, helping them, befriending them.

*Clover extends his hand to Asriel.

Asriel: Wh... What did you do...? What's this feeling...? What's happening to me? No! NO! I don't need ANYONE!

*Clover stands there, taking hit after hit, walking forward.

Asriel: STOP IT! Get away from me Clover! Do you hear me!? I'll tear you apart!

*Clover continues walking forward as Kanako and Rose join him, extending their hands.

Asriel: Chara... Do you know why I'm doing this...? Why I keep fighting to keep you around? I'm doing this... Because you're special, Chara. You're the only one who understands me. You're the only one that's fun to play with anymore. No... That's not JUST it. I... I... I'm doing this because I care about you, Chara.

Clover: Asriel, please. Take our hands.

*Clover, Kanako, and Rose extend their hands.

Asriel: PLEASE! JUST LET ME WIN!!!

*Asriel shoots the three with his rainbow beam but all three of them hang on, standing firm.

Asriel: Chara... I...

*There is a flash of light.

Asriel: I always was a crybaby, wasn't I, Chara. I know. You acctually aren't Chara are you? Clover's treated you like a daughter. And Chara's been gone for a long time. Wh... What is your name?

Rose: My name Is Rose!

Asriel: Rose... That's a nice name. Clover, Rose, umm...

Kanako: Kanako.

Asriel: Kanako, I haven't felt like this for a long time. As a flower I was soulless, deceitful, even during your original journey Clover. But, with almost every monster soul, I can feel their hearts, beating as one. They all care about each other so much. And... They care about you three as well. I wish I could tell how everyone feels about you three. But I have to destroy the barrier, and free them.

*Asriel rises in the air, six human souls, including a black one, and every monster soul exit out of Asriel as the barrier is destroyed and Asriel stands.

Asriel: I'll turn into a flower again soon. I'll miss feeling but... You probably won't forgi-

*Clover hugs Asriel.

Clover: it'll be ok buddy.

Asriel: Thank you, friend.

*The three of their visions blackout and the three wake up, looking at their friends.

Kanako: Wha-?

*Ceroba hugs Kanako.

Ceroba: I love you Kanako.

Kanako: I love you too Mom.

*Martlet hugs Clover and Rose.

Martlet: The barrier is destroyed! We can leave!

Toriel: Yes, it was destroyed, but I remember a Flower then everything turning white.

Starlo: But we're free! We can leave the mountain!

Clover: Follow me guys, to the surface.

*Everyone goes outside and look at the sun.

Clover: We did it.

Rose: Yeah Daddy! We're out of the mountain!

Kanako: This is beautiful, I wish Dad could see this.

Ceroba: Me too Kanako, me too.

Clover: Well come on! Let's head on down!

Asgore: Clover, we need an ambassador for the Monsters.

Clover: Hmm... Yes, I suppose that is needed.

Asgore: Can you be it?

Clover: Sure. I can. It may intertwine with my company but I can make it work.

Asgore: Great. Lead the way.

*Clover nods as everyone heads down the mountain.