#a full year of living with my mother and her shock and despair and horror when i do things like

[borealing]

i forgot. i live alone now. no one will judge me for taking a shower at 11pm because I've been procrastinating going to bed because my hair feels disgusting. i can do what i want. omg. im gonna have a shower

[deadboyfriendd]

While I’m on the topic of books, I read 16 books this year (not much compared to someone I went to high school with’s EIGHTY FIVE but hey I also finished a degree and am a full time artist and a full time teacher give me a break). My thoughts on them below the cut!!

The first book I read last year was A Little Life by Hanya Yanigihara. WOOF. That was 900 pages of sadness and despair. I vouch that we rename the book, “give Jude a fucking break”. Tragic, I still think about it constantly, and I will never read it again. It made me feel so many uneasy and ugly feelings and literally squeezes them out of you. Like I can’t adequately form an opinion about all of the things this book made me feel. It was profound and shocking and so immensely sad. Very rarely do I cry reading, and I ugly cried through the better half of this book.

Southern Bookclub’s was a palate cleanser for a little life. I call it Steel Magnolias for horror enthusiasts. It’s about a group of women in a prominent neighborhood in the middle of the Bible Belt during the 80s Satanic panic. They end up forming their own book club where they only read horror and true crime and end up convincing themselves that their neighbor is a vampire. It’s hilarious and charming and such a good narrative with the most satisfying ending. A great read!!

Death in her hands by Otessa Moshfegh started my obsession with her entire body of work. Each piece is a narrative in femininity and life through the scope of womanhood. This story follows an elderly woman after the death of her husband and is a fantastic example of the unreliable narrator. It was well paced and a quick read!

The ACOTAR series is… entertaining at best?? It was a drastic change from my usual genres but I was hounded into reading it by everyone and MY mother. I devoured the first and second books in two days. It’s easily palatable, kinda sexy, and a good story overall. Do it think it was life changing profound fiction? Not really. Feyre is super annoying to me but there are so many other cool characters. I think SJM probably could have slowed down and turned the third book into three different books to focus on that world building and really turned ACOTAR into something special. But it was a good story and the world building was pretty cool!

Priest was garbage.

I share the same sentiments with fourth wing and iron flame as I do with ACOTAR. Violet is less annoying than Feyre, but everyone else is so much more annoying. How to train your dragon college AU. Am I gonna read Onyx Storm when it comes out on the 21st? Yeah. I am.

Nothing but blackened teeth was… a little underwhelming? It was a quick read and your run of the mill scary ghost story. That’s all I can say about it.

My year of rest and relaxation is a book I constantly think about. THIS landed on my favorites of all time list. It tells the story of a melodramatic art major who becomes an orphan after her rich, emotionally unavailable parents die and she spends a year getting so ridiculously high on experimental prescriptions and her narrative through these moments of lucidity. It’s like if fear and loathing in Las Vegas was written by a tortured artist. It’s an acquired taste for sure but I was the target audience for that book.

A curse so dark and lonely was recommended to me by a coworker. She described it as something similar to ACOTAR with less spice. It follows the story of Harper, a teenage girl living in the big city with cerebral palsy, and she ends up in a mythical fairytale land as a chosen one to break the prince’s curse. It’s a cute beauty and the beast retelling and I plan on finishing the cursebreaker series eventually!! The characters are a little shallow and Wattpad fan fiction-ey, Harper is very, “I’m not like other girls” but it’s overall a pretty good story.

I ended my year picking up the Outlander series. Oh my GOD. It is my historical fiction writers dream. Jamie is charming and sexy and the book boyfriend to end all book boyfriends. Blows Rhysand and Xaden out of the water. Claire is a witty, sharp, multifaceted FMC and I absolutely ADORE her, and her world building is INSANE. I mean seriously I’m on the third book and I’m learning so much about European history and the Jacobite uprising. Things I wasn’t taught in school. These books are so so long but they’re so thoughtful and so interesting. Easily creeping it’s way up my favorites list.

Bonus points to outlander for having a show that follows so so closely to the book. I’m watching as I’m reading and it’s my little treat.

[missdawnandherdusk]

stay alive and say you love me

Remus X Reader (marauder’s era)

Summary: Request: @heavenlyrainyparis​: something angsty with young remus

A/n: ehehehehehehehe

There was a myth that werewolves were dangerous, that much was known. But there were also rumors that the man was not completely lost inside the beast. That if their true love spoke their full name, without fear of the beast, but with love of the man within, the curse would be broken.

Fairytales were nice and all, but real life held a different tone. When the werewolf was your best friend, and you weren’t sure true love existed, fairytales seemed sort of... stupid.

Yet, month after month, for five years you watched your best friend come back beaten and bruised. Scarred and damaged. And it broke your heart. All you wanted was to make it better. To make it go away...

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Remus croaked from the hospital bed.

“I can’t watch this, Remus,” I took his hand in mine, pressing it to my lips, and inhaling deeply, trying to reassure myself that he was alright. He squeezed my hand with the strength he had left.

I drew the line that summer. There had to be a way to make it go away. After that night, I wasn’t going to give up until I found the answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus appeared out of nowhere, tapping on my window weakly. I jumped, surprised, but smiled when I saw that it was Remus. My smile turned to despair when I realized my windowpane was now streaked with blood.

“Remus!?” I threw the window open, frantic. There was no use in trying to help him though without placing my hand on an open wound. There were too many.

“Rem!? What happened?” I interrogated laying him on the bed. My eyes flickered to the night sky and I had my answer.

Blood soaked through what was left of his shirt and the few bits of unmarred skin I could see were covered with a sheen of sweat.

“Come on Remus, just a bit longer, just hold on,” I murmured, pulling out my wand.

The healing spell was slow going. Very slow going. I wasn’t strong enough to do it on my own.

“Mum!” I screamed, tears in my eyes. “Mum!?” My desperate plea had both her and my dad barging into my room, wands drawn. “I can’t do it,” I squeaked. “I... I’m not strong enough,”

I could hear them gasp at the boy who was lain on my bed and without hesitation, they got to work. My father ordered me to get towels and dampen a washcloth. I scrambled to the bathroom and tried to follow his orders with shaking hands.

When I came back into the room, Remus was no longer bleeding out, all of his wounds had been stitched back together with magic, but there was still so much blood. Too much blood. I stood there frozen.

“Y/n,” My mother broke my trance and my feet pulled me forward. “He’s going to live,”

A hopeless cry left my lips as I shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Remus was still out cold, probably from the blood loss or the intensity of the magic, but it didn’t aid my thoughts of him dying in my arms even the slightest. Rational thoughts had been thrown out the blood-stained window. My mind went onto autopilot.

My father closed the window and threw a quick cleaning spell to tidy my room and rid it of blood, but Remus and I were still covered in it. I understood the need for the towel and washcloth. With help from my mother, I was able to get his shirt off.

Next was the blood. There was so much of it over him. Gently with the damp washcloth, I began wiping it away. Starting on his chest working down. The red gave way to beautiful pale marred skin. Next here his hands and forearms. Bit by bit I cleaned all of the blood off of him.

My father came in with a clean rag, and taking it, I wiped the sweat from his face, brushing his hair from his face. His steady pants against my fingers gave me hope that he would be okay.

“Come back to me Remmy.” I cried softly, tears making their way down my face. My mother placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to her, hopeless and scared.

“He’s going to be alright,” She encouraged, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Stay with him tonight. We���ll contact his parents.”

“James and Sirius,” I choked out.

“We’ll take care of it,” My father smiled softly. “Rest now darling. You did well,”

I collapsed beside Remus and as soon as my eyes closed, I didn’t have the strength to open them again.

I woke, blazing hot in the middle of the night and realized why as soon as my eyes adjusted. Remus had moved and was now on his side facing me, his arms cradled around me ensnaring me in the sauna I woke up too.

I frowned though my muddled sleepy thoughts. He was never this warm before. One quick touch to his forehead and I felt him burning under my fingertips. Regretting to leave him, I scrambled out of bed and moved Remus back onto his back, carefully tucking his arms on his chest. I dampened another washcloth and pressed it to his forehead then I decided to get another and carefully wipe down his neck and shoulders in hope to cool him off. It seemed to work. His skin wasn’t burning under my touch anymore. I wished he’d wake and drink some water. It would help.

I thought about getting my mother again, just to feel the comfort, and to be consoled that Remus would be okay, but a soft croak caught my attention.

“Y/n?” A weak voice called. I went on high alert.

“Remus! Great stars, are you okay!? What happened? Do you need anything?” Tears pricked my eyes as I reached out for him.

Remus gave a weak laugh that turned to coughs so I helped him sit up and rubbed his back just between his shoulder blades. I reached over and offered him a glass of water.

“Please drink this,” My voice was hopeless as I begged.

He didn’t protest as he drained the glass. His breathing was still slightly strained, but he was awake. I could be grateful for that.

“How do you feel? Do you want anything?” Worry riddled my voice.

He shook his head and set down the glass.

“Thank you.” He whispered out his voice less raspy.

“Don’t do that to me,” I whimpered, wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder. Weakly I felt his arms encase me.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. “I knew you’d be here.”

I nodded, “I’m always here, Rem,” My tears fell onto his shoulder.

My adrenaline wore off and I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, but I didn’t want to sleep. Not when Remus was awake, not when I could be reassured that he was alright. But Remus must have sensed my exhaustion and carefully tucked me into his arms and pulling a blanket back over us, letting me sleep as his blue eyes stayed trained on mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that night, I was always beside Remus every night after full moon. When James and Sirius brought him back and he’d recover in the hospital wing. I was right by his side. Something changed between us. A bond was formed. That night we realized how much we needed the other. It was always unspoken, but it was not unseen by others. It kept my by his side whenever I could manage. In the halls, in class, at meals, in the common room, during the summer.

It was fifth year that I had found the book. That I had read the rumor. The possibility.

“...just as love holds power, so do names. To speak the name of a man to a wolf with such love is enough to break the curse of the moon...”

I told Remus. And he refused to let me even try. We fought over it again and again. Every time I would argue that I would not go through that night again if I had the chance to fix it. Remus always demanded to know if I loved him. I didn’t know how to answer that, and the matter always dropped. McGonagall didn’t have an answer for me. No one had an answer for me. I only had one question. And the next full moon I would have my answer. I would have my best friend finally safe.

I followed the five of them to the Whomping Willow and called for Remus before they could disappear. I watched the horror settle in his eyes and the disbelief in James’ and Sirius’. Peter had disappeared. Remus was the first to speak.

“What the hell are you doing!?” He shouted at me. “I’m dangerous Y/n! Please for your own good, go back!”

“My own good!? Remus, please! I have been there since we were kids! You think I’m gonna back out now!?” There were tears in my eyes as I reached for him. “Let me do this, please,”

James and Sirius came rushing up behind him but paused at the scene.

“Y/n, it’s a full moon what are you doing!?” James hissed.

“I’m not giving up on him,” I snapped back. “Not again,”

“Y/n, please be rational, you can’t protect yourself! How do you think I’d feel knowing that I’d hurt you!?” Remus was close to tears.

“The only way you’d hurt me is to make me leave,” I cried. “Remus, please,”

Before my eyes I watched the moonlight wash over the four of us and I saw three of my friends morph into animals, two of them coming to protect me, one glaring me down snarling. Remus launched himself at me but Sirius, now a large black dog, intercepted. A scream left my lips as I watched the two fight, crashing down the hill.

I started to go after them, but James stood in front of my, antlers barred. 

“James this is ridiculous!” I shouted. “Remus is my best friend!”

James bayed at me, knocking me back.

I heard a howl of pain and I pulled out my wand, stunning James and running toward the sound. I saw Sirius limping away and Remus was circling around him, growling fiercely. Without thinking I put myself between the two, wand at the ready to protect Sirius from getting hurt worse.

“Remus, please,” I begged. “You’re not the wolf, you’re... you’re my best friend.”

The wolf stalked closer barring his teeth at me, his golden eyes shining. Sirius snarled from behind me.

“I’m not afraid, Remus,” I whispered. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not going to run.”

Golden eyes flashed a deep blue then back again. It gave me hope. I finally asked the question. I finally answered Remus’.

“I love you, Remus John Lupin,”

Reaching out for him I watched in shock and awe as the wolf before me became a bit more human with each second that passed. Soon Remus was curled up on the ground, shaking. Quickly I took off my robe and draped it around his shoulders. Tousled brown hair fell about his face. I slowly reached up and brushed it away.

“You do love me?” He panted out.

“Of course, I love you Remus,” Tears stung my eyes. “How could I not?”

“I’m... I’m a monster,”

“No, you’re not,” I smiled, stroking his cheek softly. “You’ve never been a monster,”

“Hey not to break up a sweet moment, but uh, what did you do to James?” Sirius asked, now on two legs. “I’ll fix him I just don’t know what counter curse to use,”

“Oh,” My cheeks flushed red. “I stunned him.” 

“Okay, cool, continue,” Sirius nodded.

Remus laughed hopelessly beside me, and I joined in. I laid my head against his shoulder and looked up at the moon.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Remus spoke softly. “You have no idea how scared I was,” 

“I’m sorry,” I amended quickly. “I really am, I never want to hurt you Remus,”

“The only way to hurt me is hurting you,” he clarified.

I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his as we watched the moonlit valley.

“Oi! Y/n! What in Merlin’s name possessed you to—” James stopped short when he saw Remus and I sitting together in the grass, both human. “I thought he was lying.”

“I told you so,” Sirius muttered.

“You really got him to turn back? And you couldn’t have mentioned that before we had to go quiet for a month?” James demanded. “You’ve known this whole time!?”

“We didn’t know if it would work,” I clarified. “And Remus wasn’t willing to risk it.” 

“By the way what the hell were you thinking?” Remus scolded again, pulling me closer.

“I couldn’t watch you keep destroying yourself Remmy,” I looked up at him through my eyelashes and saw forgiveness in his eyes.

“So... you’ve known about this for how long? And you wouldn’t let her?” Sirius raised an eyebrow at his friend. “What would make you think that it wouldn’t work? You love her, Rem. And bloody hell she loves you,”

“I could never admit it,” I gnawed on my lower lip. “I was so scared to,” I hid my face in his shoulder. “All I could think about was that night... and losing you for good, and I was scared,” Remus rubbed my arm comfortingly, holding me tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Come on love birds,” Sirius grinned, “Let’s get you inside,”

Though our little secret kept Remus from transforming more than a few moments, it didn’t change his exhaustion beforehand and slightly after. Nor did it deter his craving for chocolate, but along with these permanent things over the years, one thing also never changed.

You loved Remus John Lupin.

.

masterlist

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more like this:

brother’s best friend

i’ve got you

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[project-rosewood-476]

House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.

[roseraintears]

Angstpril day 28- The day her love died

also on ao3   

This is my last fic before I have to take a long writing break ( I have exams), So feedback would be very great :)

Hazel loved winning the war games. The Cohorts allies and enemies alike stood around her cheering and congratulating each other.

It made her happy to see them like this, so joyful after the giant war.

Dakota her Centurian colleague patted her back appreciatively.

“Good fighting out there Levesque.“, He complimented with pride in his voice.

Hazel could not suppress her smile.

Dakota was one of the Romans who took wargames a bit too seriously.

“ Thanks, you weren‘t bad either!“, She told him with a very stern tone.

Thomas rosewood, the Centurian of the first cohort walked up to them with a mocking grin.“You know you will never lose the wargames as long as Frank‘s Praetor right?“, He asked looking at Hazel with playful anger.

She felt her cheeks heating up.

She knew about the theories that the first and second cohort had made up to justify the many victories the fifth cohort won since they had started war games again. One of the popular ones was that they just lost because they did not want to hurt the Praetors girlfriend.“ My relationship with Frank has absolutely nothing to do with your fighting skills. Maybe Fortuna just isn‘t at your side for once.“, She explained reasonably.

Thoma‘s opened his mouths speechless at her words. He hadn‘t expected that she would use his godly mother against him.

Hazel felt satisfied and turned to look for her boyfriend.

Frank eyes wandered the crowd in search of Hazel. Reyna and Jason were busy with yet another talk about old times. Jason had come to Camp two days ago to talk about temple designs but he had most of the time just talked to his old friends especially Reyna.

He spotted Hazel walking towards him through the masses and quickened his steps.

He got slowed down a bit by all the people that wanted to talk to him but he did not mind.

Frank enjoyed giving them compliments or just having small talks with them.

That gave him the feeling that he was just another one of them and not one of their rulers. He suddenly felt a grasp on his arm.

When he turned his head he saw Alice a twelve-year-old shy member of the fifth cohort, smiling at him gratefully.“Thanks for training Praetor Zhang. It was a great help.“ She said softly and Frank felt moved.

“No problem and I already told you that you can call me Frank.“, He responded hoping that all of the younger demigods would learn that someday.

Alice wrapped one arm around him and leaned onto his chest but Frank did not complain. He had a soft spot for new Campers especially the ones who came with little confidence, like Alice.

“I‘m sorry it‘s just that you did so many impressing things! You are a great Praetor!“.Alice whispered and Frank felt thankfulness washing over him.“Sadly your Praetorship ends here.“, She told him with the same sweet voice.

Frank had barely time to process her words when he felt a sharp pain stabbing right into his chest.

He gasped in pain, his hand grasping the shaft of the dagger that had been pushed into his heart. Alice still held it with her small hand. He tried to back away, tried to breathe but all his body allowed was pain. He already felt his world fading and so his eyes met Hazels one last time. He did not want to leave her so soon. He had imagined a long happy life with her but as always fate was cruel.

The last thing he registered before darkness overtook him was Alice ripping out the dagger and Hazel screaming.

Hazel saw Frank fall, she saw the bloodred dagger in Alice's hand and yet she still did not want to believe it.

Alice had been her friend, almost like a little sister. She had come to Hazel with her doubts and Hazel had always cheered her up.

This girl could not have killed Frank, she could never hurt a fly.

There were shocked gasps around her as her friends had noticed what had happened.

“Nooo!“, Reyna yelled in fury and stormed towards Alice her weapon raised and Jason close behind her his blue eyes as hard as hers. Dozens of others followed their example and a terrible suspicion hit Hazel. What if this girl hadn‘t been who she claimed she was. What if this all had been a trick and the others had figured it out?

She looked at Frank‘s motionless body on the ground and the pain in her heart quickly turned to anger.

Whoever this girl was she was going to pay.

Hazel yelled out her despair and started running, ready to impale her boyfriends killer with her sword. Alice simply smiled at her attackers and with a wave of her hand they were all thrown back, crashing down on the hard ground.

The demigods who hadn‘t attacked stepped back in horror as they started to realize that the monster maybe was more than they could handle.

Hazel‘s whole body ached from the impact and when she tried to face her enemy again, a blinding white light forced her to close her eyes.

When she opened them again her mouth opened in horror. A woman had replaced Alice, a woman that Hazel knew and that she had hoped to never see again.

She had golden hair that was braided in an ancient Greek style, her black robes mirrored her dark eyes that were full of hate.

No, she could not be here, was trapped in her maze, she could not be here.

“Pasiphae?“, Hazel asked her voice trembling in fear as she, rose to her feet. Jason who got up next to her gave her a shocked glance.

“ Of course my dear you. Did you think I would stay in that hole you threw me in?“, The sorceress mocked amused.

Hazel felt tears forming in her eyes.

Yes, she had thought that had trapped Pasiphae forever, that she had kept her from harming anyone. She had wanted a peaceful life so much that she had not focussed on potential threats.

Now Frank had paid the price for her weakness, for her naivety.“You should have stayed there. I will send you back to the fields of punishment for what you did! Frank was a good, kind person and you murdered him like a coward!“, Reyna spat but Hazel stood close enough to see the girls shimmering eyes.

She had loved Frank too, not like a partner but like a brother.

Her words were meant for Pasiphae but Hazel felt them burning into her heart.

Frank had been a good person, that was why she had fallen in love with him and now he was gone. He would never kiss her again, would never smile at her again.

Her gaze wandered to him. His face was turned away from her and she felt the urge to turn him just to see his soft brown eyes.

Pasiphae gave Reyna a pitiful look.“ Don‘t be foolish. I‘m the most powerful with who walked this earth and you are just a pathetic child of a minor goddess.“, She tuned to Hazel the sadism in her eyes making Hazel‘s gut fill with dread,

“But murdering your sweet boyfriend was not that satisfying to me my dear. I have many cruel spells mind if I try them on your friend?“, She asked and her hand went up in flames.

Some of the Campers screamed, the younger ones clinging onto the older ones.

Hazel felt guilt as she saw them. Pasiphae was only here because of her, if any of them got hurt it was her fault.

“You will not hurt any of them !“, Hazel demanded as loud as she could. Pasiphae did not seem intimidated by her.“Well then have a good night daughter of Pluto. I will enjoy watching you suffer.“, Pasiphae mused and then disappeared in a blast of hot white flames.

The Campers were in too much shock to move but Hazel took her chance. She ran to Franks side and kneeled next to him. Her hands were shaking as she gently touched him. He was still warm, maybe just maybe there was still a chance.

“ Frank?“, She asked softly a part of her told her that it was pointless, that he was dead but the denial was a strong emotion.

She gripped his shoulders and turned him around so she could see his face. She was hoping for closed eyes, for a sign of his shallow breath.

Instead, she was greeted with two cold eyes whose light had died already.

Hazel flinched as if someone had hit her and that was how she felt.

“No…..No please…no.“ She muttered over and over again her throat filling with sobs.

She couldn‘t lose him. She had only known him for six months, they deserved more time.

„Come back to me Frank please come back.“, She pleaded and tears fell onto his face as she leaned over him. He did not react, of course, he only stared at her and the eyes that she had loved so much already haunted her.

“You can‘t die like this! After everything we went through…please you can‘t…….“ Hazel begged her sobs finally breaking out of her. She collapsed over Frank‘s body, corpse and buried her face into his chest like that would close the bloodied stab wound.

She suddenly felt arms wrapping around her and even though they were gentle she felt panic rising in her.

“NO, LET ME GO!“ She yelled as she was gently pulled away.

She pressed her lips on Frank‘s, a last desperate attempt to feel his warmth again but again there was nothing only darkness and she felt the dark rising inside her as well.

“It‘s okay Hazel I‘m here … it‘s okay.“, Jason told her softly while he slowly leaned her onto his chest for comfort. Reyna and Dakota joined him sitting down to tell Hazel soft words that they knew were not working.

Hazel did not resist anymore, she was too weak. She let herself sink against Jason closing her eyes to block out the cruel reality that she now lived in. Her heart was broken and in between all her grief, the sweetness that so many people loved was washed away by a deep hatred.

No one noticed that change until Hazel opened her eyes opened again hours later.

They looked empty, dead just like Frank‘s like he had taken Hazel‘s light to the underworld.

Dakota searched them for the sarcastic girl had joked with only hours ago but the longer he searched the more he realized that she was dead.

Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang both had lost their lives that night and when Hazel finally spoke again her tone was hard and her words were a desire for revenge.

"I will find Pasiphae and I will kill her.“

@chaos-company @qperseusjackson-jasongrace @emilydaughterofapollo @fictionalnormalcy

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 2: Sway

This is the story of how Serella Arcbane died. And how she got back up again.

(this is a tale of the Calamity, and what Serella was doing when it happened. Vesh is her pre-Calamity chocobo, and though she’s not referenced in recent post Calamity fics, rest assured Vesh is okay)

Word count: 2,788

Dalamud was falling.

The skies turned red. Creeks once flowing and brooks once babbling had turned ruddy, darkened by soot and blood. Even lacking a breeze, the Twelveswood seemed to sway even in the stillness as the world held its breath.

Gridania seemed to exist in constant contradiction in the days of darkness. Stillness and constant motion. The forest teemed with life, but the air was heavy with the scent of death. Few dared to leave the city-state for the Twelveswood out of fear of the voidesent that flooded it.

Dalamud was falling, and time was at a standstill.

Serella thought on her brother, gone to Limsa Lominsa years ago now, and prayed that he kept his head about him. She had no faith in the Twelve, but she begged them to keep him out of Carteneau. Her prayers contradicted the truth she knew, in her heart of hearts: he was a warrior down to his marrow. He was a helper. Provided he was as hale and healthy as his last letter had indicated, though he did not say so, she knew as surely as she knew the moon was falling, that he was on the battlefield.

Dalamud was falling, and her brother was at war.

A part of her hated that she wasn’t there. But there was no sense in her going, not when there were people here that needed help. Not for the first time, she had to remind herself that though she had learned much in her years under the tribe’s tutelage, she was hardly a soldier. The bow at her back wasn’t going to do much on the front lines. So she focused on what she could do here and now. Supply lines needed escorts, people needed tending, errands and messages needed to be ran. She did what she could of the thankless work, because she knew it was what kept the heroes going.

Dalamud was falling, and she was not enough.

Then the battle at Carteneau escalated. Fires began to spread throughout the forests. Already largely trapped in the city-state proper as so many were, it felt as though they were cornered animals watching their hunter close in. People cracked under the pressure, began to panic, began to try and flee into the flames.

Dalamud was falling, and the Twelveswood burned.

Serella, and many other adventurers, did what they could to ferry water— she and her own chocobo hauled much of it toward the brushes, wetting them against the flames and trying to douse what embers she could. It was not enough. It was not enough. The wood burned all the same.

What Adders remained in the city were clearly not made for risk taking. Those civilians that ran into the forests were largely left to die. Voidsent were only barely held back by the adventurers that were skilled enough to slay them. It was not enough.

“Please! My son!” Serella heard a woman cry. 

Scrubbing soot from her eyes, she turned to see the wailing Elezen, clinging to the arm of a Serpent lancer who seemed desperate to shake her off.

“I told you—” He tried to growl.

“He’s just a little boy, he’s scared! Please, you have to save him!” She begged. 

"I'm sorry, but he is lost to the wood."

Serella watched. And listened. This wasn’t the first person to beg for help from the Adders, was not the only one begging now. Help us, help our families. We’re scared. Help us, they begged of their protectors. 

What a fitting name, the Adders, she thought bitterly, and spat into the dirt. Snakes, the lot of them.

Dalamud was falling, and Gridiania did not care.

But Serella did. And she had water. And a cloth to douse and cover her mouth. And a bird swift enough to make it in and out.

She was moving toward the weeping mother before she had even made a conscious thought to act. Every muscle in her body pulled taught, a low roiling anger burned within her, but she had never been one to let herself be idle in her rage. Not when she could put it to good use. She could, so she must.

“Quickly, miss.” She called to her, and scrounged up every bit of softness she could manage to usher her to a nearby bench. “Your son. Tell me his name, what he was wearing, and which way he went.”

“T-Tam!” The woman replied, and when she began to sway from the stress, Serella helped her sit down. “He was wearing a yellow shirt, brown pants. He fled south from here, r-right through those trees!”

“My thanks.” Serella nodded to her. “I will try to find him.”

She had to be quick. With some of the water she had gathered, she soaked a bandana for herself and her trusty bird, and hastily tied them around face and beak alike.

“Vesh, let’s be swift, yeah?” She patted the bird’s neck.

Vesh trilled and bumped her forehead against Serella’s in answer.

She mounted her bird and took off into the burning brush before any of the Adders could even attempt to stop her. Ducked low against her galloping companion, eyes squinted against the smoke, she scanned the trees for any signs of anyone— she knew there were many that had run to try and get away. When she was deep enough in that she couldn’t make out where the city was, she pulled on Vesh’s reigns to make her stop.

“Anyone out there?” Serella called at the top of her lungs. “Tam? Anyone?”

A scream echoed to her right. She spurred Vesh to chase the sound. It took little time to find a young woman running from a voidsent, swaying and stumbling as she maneuvered around the charred forest remains.. 

“To me!” Serella shouted, and drew her bow.

She had seen many of these particular type of voidsent in recent days— wraiths with leathery wings, ashen scales, and fearsome claws. They looked more akin to gargoyles than living things. It shrieked, jaw distended as it bore its fangs, hungry for the woman’s aether.

The arrow she fired connected with the voidsent’s chest as the woman staggered toward her. It shrieked again, in agony this time, and dissipated before it could fall to the ground. 

“I’ve got you!” She reassured the woman, hauling her up onto Vesh’s saddle in front of her.

Retracing the path they had tore through the burning brush, Serella dropped the woman off at the safest edge of the wood, in clear view of the city. Once she saw her stagger toward the awaiting Adder, Serella wetted their cloth masks and was off into the fire again.

She felt a strange calm amongst the flames, the chaos. It wasn’t the soft, warm days full of birdsong, the kind where villages could be eradicated, and the birds would still sing through the destruction. This was some strange equal opposite to her trauma. She had never felt more aware of herself and her surroundings than she did in that moment.

Maybe that was the real reason why she kept going back in. Back and forth, back and forth, she would ferry what people she could find. Still, there was no sign of a little boy in yellow and brown.

Dalamud was falling, and Serella was on the move.

On the fifth run in, just when she thought she had run out of people she hadn’t failed, she was proven wrong.

“Help!” Cried the voice of a man. 

She followed his call, shouting at him to keep calling out to her, until she found a small group of people: three of them, two children, and a man, huddled together. One of the young ones— a boy in yellow and brown— stared at her in horror as she dismounted. 

“It’s alright, I’m here to get you out!” She reassured them. “Tam, is that you? Your mother sent me. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“B-but…” Tam wheezed, and when he stepped aside, she saw a chocobo egg almost as big as the boy who had shielded it. “We can’t leave it behind—” 

His words tapered weakly on a cough. The others were faring no better, and it was clear they wouldn’t last long breathing in this smoke. She tore bits of her own shirt off, wet them, and passed them around. 

“Here, cover your mouths, come now, that’s it!”

“There are others!” The man cried, even as she helped him atop Vesh’s saddle. “I...I tried to find them—!”

The man dissolved into coughing fits.

“You tried, and that’s what matters. I promise you, I’ll look for them.” She reassured him. “Come, we have to get out of here.” 

She scooped the little girl up with one arm, once she realized the poor little ones could only sway in shock and horror, and handed her to the man to situate on the saddle. Hastily, she plucked little Tam up in one arm and cradled the chocobo egg in the other, and once Tam was situated behind the little girl— Bev, she had croaked her name out— she slipped the chocobo egg in the soft, fur lined saddlebag for safekeeping.

Serella had intended to lead Vesh away on foot, back to Gridania, but they must have tarried too long. What glowing light there was from the fire became eclipsed in creeping shadows made solid, manifesting around them. Vesh tossed her head, startled, even as Serella’s grip on her reigns tightened. 

Dalamud was falling, and the voidsent hungered.

These were greater numbers than ever before. More than she knew she could handle. More than she knew Vesh could outrun, burdened as she was even without Serella. She would have to stay behind to buy them time, even knowing what it would cost her.

She didn’t even need to think on it. Fortunate, then, that she had no time to.

“Get them out of here!” She ordered the man still astride her bird. “I’ll cover your escape!”

Vesh tossed her head again, letting out a wark of despair.

“Hush now, Vesh. It’s alright. Go on. Keep them safe for me.” She patted her bird’s face affectionately before she hardened herself for what she knew was coming. “Go on now, go!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. As Vesh thundered off, wailing out a mournful cry of farewell as she went, Serella turned to the rapidly solidifying darkness. The swarm of voidsent. They clustered so closely she couldn’t discern their shapes, so she instead counted the eyes. Ten sets of them. More of them than anything she had ever fought. 

Dalamud was falling, and so, too, would she.

There was a strange calm to knowing death was approaching— but Serella refused to revel in it. Honing her focus, she quickly nocked an arrow and fired into the collective shadow.

Two eyes vanished. Nine voidsent left. The swarm descended. 

She fired a second arrow, nearly dancing to the rhythm of her hammering heart. Though her lungs burned and her eyes stung, she persisted. 

Two more eyes vanished. Eight left. They grew near enough to nearly grab her, but she leapt back to keep the distance and fired a third arrow as she landed on her feet again.

Seven left, but the flames were closing in. She was out of room to move. 

Her bow would do little here, with them coming so close. She glanced down when a glint caught the corner of her eye— a fallen Adder she had not seen before, with his blade stuck in the ground beside him. 

She had only ever seen the Wood Wailers train with them from afar. Though she would die flailing, at least she could buy them more time.

The blade's hilt was slick with blood, but she redoubled her grip and swung it upward as she ripped it from the earth. When the edge of the sword connected with the first voidsent, she nearly dropped her blade at the unexpected resistance she met: she had thought them less solid. Nevertheless, she had to rip the blade through and complete the arc. She caught two of them in her path. Five remaining.

One of them sunk it's scythe appendage into her arm, and she cried out at the stinging pain as it dug into her bicep.

At least it was her off hand, she mused darkly, and stabbed its black heart.

The motion left her vulnerable for another attack, however, and with another lunge, one of the remaining monstrosities slashed across her back. Shallow enough to keep her standing but deep enough to make her bleed. A cry of agony tore from her throat as she slashed wildly outward, and caught a two more in the stroke.

The last two voidsent, however, had her pinned. Diving in from either side, they swooped, graceful as black swans, and dug a bladed arm each into her chest. The impact stole the breath from her lungs, and she shuddered with the want to breathe. Even as her chest felt sticky and wet, she did not dare look down, knowing of the blood she would see.

Her mind and body hadn't quite caught up with what just happened, and with another swing of her limp arm to line up the beasts, and a strike with her blade, she'd managed fell them both with the last of her strength.

Her legs stopped working, and she sank to her knees in the blood soaked earth. As she lurched forward and managed to catch herself, just barely, by digging the blade into the earth and leaning on it, she wondered in dark humor whether or not this was how the blade's last bearer had died.

It didn't matter. Vesh got away with the civilians. That was enough. She made that enough.

Dalamud fell, and so, too, did she.

When the scent of smoke and brimstone filled her nose, Serella had, at first, presumed she'd been condemned to one of the seven hells. Opening her eyes and taking in the smoke filled skies, the brittle, burned trees, and the near foot of ash that coated everything, she wasn't entirely sure she was wrong in that assumption.

Then she looked down. She lay centered in a perfect circle of preserved grass, unburned, untarnished, and verdant beneath the ashes. Peering down at herself, she lacked wounds to speak of the horror she endured, and yet, the blood still stained her clothes deeply. The tears, the holes, every other marker of her injuries remained on everything but her. 

She lifted her weary eyes, staring at the blade that had served her in the bitter end, still embedded in the grass. Her senses slowly returned to her, and she could hear the faint crooning of crows off in the distance, but little else. Her father's bow and pack slung on her shoulders were a familiar weight, and she drew comfort in that.

Her hand was enclosed around something, she realized. Confused, she looked at it and turned her palm up.

A bright, glowing blue crystal. Deep as the fathomless sea, bright as the surface of the ocean at midday, it was cool against her fingertips, and almost impossibly smooth. Every gleaming facet seemed to hold reflections of a face she almost thought she recognized, though they were all a little different from the others.

This is me. Some part of her whispered, and her mind lurched at the implication.

Hear...feel...think… a soft voice cooed from somewhere within her.

Serella decided she had done enough of all of those things for the moment. She had important things she had to do, if hell was too scared to take her now. She had to try and find Vesh, first. Gods willing, she could then take Vesh to track down her tribe again— Mina had taken them north, closer to Coerthas. She knew the path well. She had to know if they made it through this hellish nightmare, and if there was anyone that she could turn to with this weird...crystal, and this strange, intrusive voice in her head, it was Mina. 

After that, come what may...she needed proper training. She had to learn how to properly protect people. The Adders weren't  going to do it, and she wasn't about to hold her breath and expect anywhere else to really look out for their people, either. Someone had to be their shield.

Oh, huh. A shield would have been handy back there, she thought in a daze, brushing the ashes off of her clothes as she hauled herself up in a fit of sneezing and coughing. Something to look into. That's step four-or-so.

Dalamud had fallen, and in its ashes, Serella stood tall.

[blightarts]

Blades of Order & Chaos

Chapter Title: Prologue

Word Count: 4362

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry. This is my version for the upcoming sequel of Blades of Light & Shadow. I am not claiming this to be the canon story of the book. This is only written to increase the hype for the actual sequel.

MC/Pairing: Kite (Blue Elf Male MC) / Kite x Nia

Taglist: @princessstellaris @mechaspirit @brightningstar @cal-north @mahariel-theirin @lxdy-starfury @tyrils-star @imturaxamara @kelseaaa

It’s a silent night in the capital city of Whitetower. Each member of the group is settled in their bedrooms. Some are asleep while the others are restless. Kite just woke up with a gasp, panting and sweating after witnessing visions in his sleep. Nia shoots awake next to him with an immediate concern.

Nia: Kite? What’s wrong?

Kite looks around, catching his breath. He looks at his beloved, worried.

Kite: Nothing… just a bad dream…

Nia caresses his cheek and gives him a reassuring peck on the lips.

Nia: That’s right, just a bad dream. Now, come on. Let’s get some rest.

She smiles at him and Kite smiles back with a subtle uncertainty in his eyes. The two lie back down on bed, with Kite spooning Nia, before drifting back to sleep. Kite can’t help but recall the visions he saw; that strange hooded figure, the ruined burning city… and of course, the creature above him, huge and terrible…

Meanwhile, something similar happens to the rest of the group.

In Kade’s room, he’s laid down on his bed, unable to sleep. He begins recollecting a memory from when he was still an infant. He recalls being in a forest with the sound of people panting and another child crying being heard nearby. He then heard people talking frantically around him.

Voice 1: How did we not notice his presence for two thousand years?!

Voice 2: I do not know, but what confuses me is why he had to keep himself preserved instead of slaying his own nephew.

Voice 3: Well, it matters no longer. We must find a safe place and remain there long enough for Estel’s son to grow and become the hero this Realm needs.

Voice 1: Riverbend should be nearby. Let us seek refuge there.

The two voices continue to pant whilst running to their destination. This is all that Kade can remember, but the fact that the two voices mentioned Riverbend, mean that two of them could be his own parents and the other being Kite’s. He ruffles his hair, trying to know more.

Kade: Ugh… what does this all mean?!

In Mal’s room, he is sitting by the balcony, playing with a coin and gazing at the stars. He looks at his coin, giving him vivid flashbacks of the day before his retirement from the Thieves Guild. He recalls being inside an ancient dungeon buried in the Zaradun Wastelands. He then remembers his fellow thieves yelling in despair whilst trying to escape the dungeon as it was crumbling.

Thief 1: That… thing is alive!

Thief 2: How is that even possible?! This dungeon has to be at least… thousands of years old!

As the group approached the exit, the stone floor below them started shaking before it broke apart, causing most of the members to fall to their deaths. Mal, however, managed to leap out of danger in time, but as he was about to head out, a voice called for his help.

Fledgling Thief: Mister Volari!

Mal turned to see the fledgling hanging by the edge of the collapsed floor. He ran back to grab the young boy.

Mal: Hang on, kit! I got yo—

But before Mal could reach the fledgling, the floor crumbled once more, causing the young thief to fall to his death, much to Mal’s horror. As the ground in front of him started to crack, the former thief immediately ran out of the dungeon as it buries itself deeper beneath the sand. After returning to the Guild in Whitetower, Mal retired, overwhelmed by his Survivor’s Guilt, and began his life as an adventurer instead.

In the present day, he grits his teeth and clenches his fist, gripping the coin given to him by the fledgling he failed to save.

In Tyril’s room, the elf is asleep on his bed, dreaming peacefully, but that peace won’t last long. He begins experiencing a vision of the past, not his own past, but the history of House Starfury. Tyril finds himself in the middle of a battlefield.

Tyril: This place…

He attempts to familiarize his surroundings, seeing corpses of elves around him, with almost half of them having pale skin and blood on their lips. Tyril then recognized them as the cursed elven race, the Vhampyrs, prompting him to realize where he is.

Tyril: This is the Battle of Cragheart, where Lady Farin defeated the Beast of Blood…

He sprints across the battlefield, looking for his ancestor, Farin Starfury. Eventually, he does so and finds her, with the Blade of Sol in hand, standing face-to-face with the Beast itself, a large gargoyle-like creature with long black hair and crimson eyes. But what happened next shocked both Tyril and Farin as the Beast just spoke.

Beast of Blood: F-Fa-Fariiiiin…

Farin is caught off-guard for a second but quickly regains focus.

Farin: Do not distract me, you monster!

A fiery aura surrounds the elf as immense magical power surges through her, ready to strike. But the Beast continues to communicate with her.

Beast of Blood: V-Vla… dussss….

Once again, Farin lowers her guard as she sees the Beast’s eyes switching colors, from red to blue and vice versa. Soon, she begins to notice the features present in the Beast’s face as she recognizes its true identity.

Farin: B… Brother…?

Tyril widens his eyes at this revelation. He tries to reach out to Farin but was pulled back by an invisible force, causing him to jolt from his sleep with a gasp. He pants, processing what he just saw, before staring out the window in confusion.

Tyril: Lady Farin had a… brother…?

The elf attempts to shake off this thought out of his head before returning to his slumber.

In Imtura’s room, she is fast asleep but her troubled expressions mean that she might not having such a pleasant dream. Like Tyril, she’s having a vision, but instead of the past, it shows an event in the future. The orc finds herself back home, in Flotilla, but she doesn’t have full control over her own body. It’s almost as if she’s seeing the perspective of her future self. She then notices, in horror, Flotilla falling apart in flames, with other of her kind panicking.

Orc Guard 1: Get the children to safety! I’ll join you once we secure the royal family.

Orc Guard 2: Wait, is that…? The princess!

Orc Guard 1: Princess Imtura! Retreat to the Wra–

Imtura’s future self grits her teeth and turns to the guards.

Imtura (Future): Prioritize the citizens! Let me secure my own mother!

The orc guards reluctantly nod and follow the princess’s orders. As Imtura’s future self gets closer to the throne room, the present time Imtura’s vision start to get blurry, as if the dream is about to end.

Imtura (Present): Wait… no… bring me back… I need to know if my mother is alive! BRING ME BACK!!

But her cries do not matter as she wakes up in shock followed by deep breaths escaping her mouth. Imtura looks at her trembling hands, wondering if what she saw was real or if her mother was even safe should the events become true. She then repeatedly and gently smacks her hands against her cheeks.

Imtura: Come on, Imtura! It’s just a dream. Everyone is alright back home.

With a calming sigh, the orc lies back down and falls asleep a few minutes later.

And lastly, in the prisons of Whitetower, Aerin is seated at the corner of his cell, contemplating instead of sleeping. However, instead of thoughts about regret for his actions or vengeance upon those who imprisoned him, memories fill his mind, memories that date back to his childhood.

When Aerin was around six years old, he was seated on a bench in the castle’s flower garden. Beside him was his older brother, Baldur, who was nine years old at the time. Baldur was holding a stick and raised it up high, pretending to be a hero, before turning to Aerin.

Baldur (Past): One day, Aerin, we shall trek beyond the borders of Morella, and make peace with the surrounding kingdoms. With your wits and my strength, we will become kings that will lead our people to the right path!

Aerin smiled shyly but looked down.

Aerin (Past): I am uncertain, brother. You are the eldest, the heir to the throne. Technically, only you can become king while I just stand beside you as your advisor.

Baldur grinned as he ruffled Aerin’s hair.

Baldur (Past): Nonsense! I shall make it so that we both become kings.

Aerin looked up at his brother with wonder.

Aerin (Past): Really?

Baldur nodded.

Baldur (Past): I cannot do this alone. We’re brothers. We have to stick together.

As the memory fades, Aerin places a palm on his head, riddled.

Aerin: …Have I always had memory…?

The night goes on and our heroes are lost in thought after what they had just experienced.

A new day begins, brighter than the last, and the group gathers at the main hall of the castle, preparing to say their goodbyes and go back to their normal lives, but after what they’ve experienced the previous night, it’s too soon to depart just yet. On the way to the main hall, Kite and Nia are walking down the stairs, hand in hand. Kite tries his best to hide his worried expression from Nia, but the priestess is too occupied with a slight headache. She gently places a hand on her head as her vision starts to blur. Kite notices this.

Kite: You okay, Nia? You look like you’re starting to get lightheaded.

Nia meets Kite’s concerned eyes but a vision flashes before hers. In this vision, she is seeing through the perspective of someone from long ago. Nia finds herself in some sort of tunnel and in front of her is a dark figure with swords hovering around them as they approach her. The priestess sees herself raising her hands against this mysterious figure ready to blast them with the power of the Light. However, the figure was too elusive as they quickly evaded the blast before plunging one of their swords onto Nia, prompting the vision to cease and the priestess to gasp and fall onto Kite’s arms. The elf’s expression turned from concern to fear.

Kite: Woah, woah… what happened…? Are you okay?

Nia takes a moment to breathe while Kite helps her stand.

Nia: I don’t know… I… think I just saw… a glimpse of the past…

Kite: What do you mean? From when?

Nia shakes her head and shrugs in uncertainty. Kite just nods and kisses her forehead, not wanting to put much pressure into her after what she just went through. After regaining composure, the priestess sighs and looks at her beloved with a reassuring smile.

Nia: I’ll be okay. The bad things are all over now.

Kite hesitantly smiles back at her, thoughts of last night’s dream not being able to escape his mind.

Kite: …Yeah, they are.

Suddenly, they hear someone at the bottom of the stairs.

Mal: Hey, are you two just gonna get married and spend the rest of your lives on that step? We ain’t got all day.

Kite and Nia turn to see their friends waving at them. Kade and Imtura are snickering because of Mal’s joke while Tyril shakes his head in disappointment. Threep and Loola flutter towards Kite and Nia with grins on their faces.

Threep: Come. There’s much to do.

The couple nods at the two nespers before descending the stairs to meet up with the rest of the group. As all of them head towards the main hall, Kite notices troubled faces on his friends, realizing that they must’ve seen something similar to what he saw last night. Knowing that they might be hesitant in sharing, he decides to share his experience.

Kite: Guys, I have something to say…

Kite halts behind his friends as they all turn towards him.

Tyril: Is something the matter, Kite?

Kite grits his teeth but reluctantly speaks up.

Kite: I don’t think we’re done yet… There’s still more about the Shadow Realm we do not know.

Everyone tilts their head on confusion.

Kade: What do you mean?

Imtura: Yeah, we kicked the Dreadlord and his goons’ asses while we were there.

Kite shakes his head.

Kite: It’s not just them… There’s something else in that damned place…

He clutches himself, shivering while the thought of Whitetower in ruins fills his mind. Nia steps up to hold and comfort him.

Nia: Kite, is this about that bad dream you had last night?

Kite looks at her and nods in terror.

Mal: What exactly did you see?

Kite gulps, trying not to hurl.

Kite: I was warned about a great danger coming from the Shadow Realm… After wielding the Blade of Light in there, I seemed to have attracted the attention of a far more threatening foe… the Empire of Ash, if I recall.

Threep and Loola’s eyes start to widen in dread.

Loola: D-Did you just say…?

Threep: The Empire of Ash…?

The group notices the nespers shivering in fear, as if they know more than what the others think.

Kade: Wait, what is the Empire of Ash?

Threep gulps and tries to speak but is too horrified. Loola steps up and speaks up instead.

Loola: The Empire of Ash is an ancient enemy that preceded the Shadow Court. Some stories say that they had fought against the first generation of the Elven Empire, but others say that they are the Elven Empire itself before being usurped by their foes who fought for righteousness. Whichever you look at it, they are far worse and more dangerous than the Shadow Court, nay, even the Dreadlord himself.

Threep coughs and finally talks.

Threep: And if Kite is saying that they are coming once again, then this Realm is in great danger.

Tyril: How come I’ve just heard of them now? Their history should’ve been written in the elven archives.

Loola shakes her head.

Loola: All records about the Empire had been erased during the war against the Shadow Court. All of them, gone.

Mal: And since you and Threep are the only ones from that era, only you two knew about it?

The two nespers nod.

Imtura: What else do you know about the Empire?

Threep: I heard that the Empire was led by the one called “Fateseeker”, an individual with unimaginable power, able to lay waste on a civilization within minutes.

Shivers travel down on the group’s spines upon hearing what Threep said.

Kade: How did the Empire fall?

Loola: Rumors say that a single elf who wielded the power of both Light and Shadows was able to push back their forces and eventually, banish them in the Shadow Realm.

Threep: The elves of our time believed that the Dreadlord and the Shadow Court were merely just pawns of the Empire.

After this huge revelation, everyone in the group is taken aback and tries to process what they’ve just heard. Gritting his teeth, Kite stands up straight and walks past the group.

Nia: Kite? Where are you going?

Kite: The prisons. I’m paying him a visit.

The group realizes who Kite is referring to and goes after him.

Mal: You sure, kit? We still don’t know if you’re dream is just… well, a dream.

Kite: I’m certain. He’s spent twenty years of his life in the Shadows, so he must know something about the Empire.

Soon, the group arrives in Whitetower’s lockup, standing in front of Aerin’s cell. He scoffs at them.

Aerin: Have you come here to mock me before you all return to your normal lives? That’s petty, even for me.

Kite: We’ve come here to ask you a few things.

Aerin raises his head with a smirk.

Aerin: Oh? What more can you ask from me? The Dreadlord and the Shadow Court are gone. You have nothing else to interrogate out of me.

Kite: What do you know about the Empire of Ash?

The prince raises an eyebrow.

Aerin: Ah, I see. I thought the Dreadlord was just exaggerating when he said that he serves a far greater power than his own.

He stands up and walks up to the bars of his cell.

Aerin: Alright then, Kite. I shall entertain you.

He then smirks before continuing.

Aerin: While planning for the Shadow Court’s return, the Dreadlord has mentioned about the Empire a couple times. He said how he needed a vessel who is prominent in Light Magic in order to act as the beacon, signaling the Empire.

The prince turns to Nia, who backs away while Kite steps between them. Aerin chuckles and continues.

Aerin: Even with the Dreadlord’s demise, he still was able to fulfill his goal… all because of your foolishness.

Insulted, Kite attempts to charge at Aerin but his friends hold him back. The former prince just laughs before sitting at the corner of his cell.

Aerin: That is all I can offer you, Kite. If you want to know more, you could pay the dwarves of Zaradun a visit, that is if you can find one at all, since they’ve been missing prior to the rise of the Shadow Court.

Kite grits his teeth before breaking out of his friends’ hold and taking his leave. The rest of the group follow him.

Kade: Kite, where are you going?

Kite: The Zaradun Wastelands.

Nia grabs Kite’s arm and stops him in his tracks.

Nia: Kite, why are you so intent on stopping the Empire?

Kite breaks into tears.

Kite: Because it’s my fault why we have to deal with them in the first place!

The group falls silent as the elf continues.

Kite: I brought the Light upon the Shadow Realm. The Empire is returning because of me. I have to make up for my mistake.

Kite clenches his fists as they tremble.

Imtura: Why is it that there’s something else you’re not telling us?

Kite gulps.

Tyril: Kite, tell us. Please.

Kite sighs and gives in to his friends’ pleas.

Kite: I… saw something else after being warned of the Empire…

Threep: What was it?

Kite looks around Whitetower then at his friends.

Kite: Whitetower… in ruins… burning… while a dragon looms over it…

There was a long silence as the group stares at Kite in horror.

Mal: What did you just say…?

Mal, knowing that his sister lives in the capital, grabs Kite’s collar.

Nia: Mal, what are you doing?!

Mal: What about my sister, Kite? Is she still alive in this dream of yours?

Kite doesn’t answer, uncertain of the fate of Whitetower’s inhabitants, further angering Mal.

Mal: ANSWER ME, KIT!

Tyril grabs Mal’s arm and gives him a concerned look. The rogue comes back to his senses before letting go of Kite.

Mal: I’m sorry, Kite. I don’t know what came over me… it’s just… I’ve already lost enough… I don’t wanna lose anyone else.

Kite shakes his head.

Kite: It’s okay. I understand your frustration. I think… we just need to clear our heads and plan out what we should do next.

As the rest of the group nods at what Kite said, Imtura is at the back, trying to connect the destruction of Whitetower in Kite’s dream and the destruction of Flotilla in her dream.

Nia: Imtura?

The orc is snapped back into reality as she looks at the group staring at her.

Imtura: I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m concerned for my family as well.

The group nods at what she said before Kade steps up with a suggestion.

Kade: Okay, come on. Group hug. We need to keep our spirits up in the fight ahead.

Kite smiles at his brother before placing his arm over his shoulder. The elf looks at the rest of the group.

Kite: Kade’s right. We’re all in this together.

Nia joins and places her arm around Kite. Tyril joins right after.

Nia: No matter the threat, we can handle it.

Tyril: We have done it once; we can do it again.

The four of them smile at Mal and Imtura, waiting for them to join. The rogue and orc roll their eyes before reluctantly joining the hug.

Mal: You all are hopeless optimists.

Imtura: But the same can be said for the both of us.

As the group laughs at the comment, Threep and Loola land on Kite and Nia’s shoulders, respectively.

Threep: We are all still millennia away from defeating the Empire…

Loola: But that shouldn’t stop us from saving the realm.

Kite looks at the determination present in his friends’ faces.

Kite: Let’s get this done!

Everyone: YEAH!

Suddenly, the moment was cut short by an explosion heard from a distance.

Mal: What was that?

The group turns around the corner to see smoke coming from the castle. They rush back towards it, curious and worried as to who or what caused the explosion. Upon reaching the throne room, the group spots King Arlan, surrounded by his guards, standing face-to-face against a dark figure. Nia’s heart sinks as the mysterious figure looks exactly the same as the one she saw in her vision. She begins to collapse but Kite catches her in his arms.

Kite: Nia, are you okay?

While the group helps Nia on her feet, King Arlan speaks with the dark figure.

King Arlan: Who are you?! And what business do you have against my kingdom?!

The figure unsheathes their sword and conjures five copies of it before having the swords hover around them. Tyril immediately recognizes the unique magic used by the figure.

Tyril: Impossible. How is he alive after all these years?

Mal: You know him, elf boy?

Tyril grits his teeth and unsheathes his own sword.

Tyril: He is a former member of the Shadow Court… Sir Laundsellyn, the Deserter!

The figure turns towards Tyril and grins.

Sir Laundsellyn: “Deserter”, eh? I am grateful that elven history gave me quite a title.

While Imtura and Mal join Tyril and unsheathe their weapons, Kite hands Nia to Kade.

Kite: Take care of her.

Kade: Don’t worry. Kick Laundsellyn’s ass.

The elf grins at his brother before joining the others.

Imtura: What’s this guy’s deal?

Tyril: Prior to the purification ritual two thousand years ago, all of the members of the Shadow Court were cornered and eventually banished to the Shadow Realm… All, but one.

Mal: Sir Laundry boy?

Tyril nods.

Tyril: He was tasked with hunting down the Priestess of Light and succeeded but was never heard from again when he was supposed to join the other members of the Court during the final battle of the war.

Imtura: Oh, so he’s not a “deserter”. He’s a coward!

Sir Laundsellyn scoffs.

Sir Laundsellyn: Spare me your insults. I’d known from the beginning that the Court will fail. So, I fled, avoiding my banishment. I was thinking far ahead than any of them, even the Dreadlord himself.

He starts walking towards the King.

Sir Laundsellyn: My purpose now is to serve a far greater power… the Empire of Ash…

Anger rises among the group upon hearing the mention of the Empire.

Imtura: Anything we should know about this guy, Tyril?

Tyrils shakes his head.

Tyril: No, the elven archives did not mention a lot about Laundsellyn, except only for being part of the Court and his betrayal.

Kite: I guess we’re on our own here.

Tyril: We need a distraction.

Kite smirks as he puts a hand on his waist, but Mal grips the elf’s shoulder.

Mal: Don’t. You. Dare.

(Author’s Note: Kite’s not much of a Seductive Skill combatant . 😅)

Kite chuckles.

Kite: Don’t worry. I’m not that type of fighter.

He then holds out his hand, materializing the Blade of Light in his grasp.

Kite: I’ll take him on easily.

Mal, Tyril and Imtura grin.

Mal: Oh, right. I forgot we have that now.

Tyril: An agent of the Shadows like him won’t stand a chance against your Blade.

Imtura: Go get ‘em!

Kite nods as he dashes towards Laundsellyn who turns to him.

Sir Laundsellyn: Oho? What do we have here?

Kite channels the power of the Light present within the Blade before swinging it at the former member of the Shadow Court.

Kite: This is your end!

However…

CLANG!

…Sir Laundsellyn stops the Blade with only his finger, leaving everyone in utter shock and silence.

Tyril: …T-That’s… not possible…

Kade: How?! He’s a soldier of the Shadow Court!

Laundellyn smirks and pinches the tip of the Blade.

Sir Laundsellyn: Ah, I’ve been wondering where my Blade has been all this time.

He then kicks Kite on his gut, causing him to loose grip on the Blade as he is propelled across the throne room.

Imtura: Kite!

Mal rushes to Kite’s aid while Tyril and Imtura ready themselves.

Mal: Kit, are you okay?

Kite coughs and glares at Laundsellyn.

Kite: Your Blade? What are you talking about?

Laundsellyn chuckles as he holds the Blade properly with its hilt.

Sir Laundsellyn: The Blade of Light has always been an heirloom to my House. Being a descendant of the one who wielded the power of the Light and Shadows, I cannot be harmed by the Blade.

Suddenly, something comes to Threep’s mind, as if he’s starting to remember a lost memory.

Threep: I remember now… You’re the prodigal son… of the House I once served!

Laundsellyn spots Threep behind Kite and squints his eyes.

Sir Laundsellyn: Tch! I thought I made sure you’d forgotten everything about my House, Pompedorfin.

Threep hisses at him.

Threep: Mind your tongue, traitor! You were the reason why House Nightbloom became extinct!

Upon hearing the mention of his own House, Kite’s eyes widen.

Kite: Threep, what do you mean?

Loola: Threep once told me about an heir to House Nightbloom, who is slothful, despite being skilled in almost everything. He stole their heirloom and left without a trace in pursuit of his own selfish goals.

Laundellyn sighs.

Sir Laundsellyn: Ah, yes, the nostalgia of those days...

He scoffs as the power of the Shadows surge through him.

Sir Laundsellyn: Well, if you must know… My real name… is Lucius Nightbloom.

----- END OF CHAPTER -----

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [24]

Masterlist

[F/N] = father’s name

[B/N] = brother’s name

~^*^~

You tugged open a drawer, pulling out some underwear, before moving down a drawer to pull out some clothes that you always kept here in case you were forced to stay (like last night). Your body was sore, especially your stomach.

On the bed, Dracula was watching you as you dressed, loving the way the golden light hit your body and licked you in an angelic hue. The side of the bed that you had slept on was cooling quickly and Dracula hated the feeling of you slipping away. If you weren’t already worrying about what your parents were going to say when you dared to venture downstairs, he’d most definitely have you back in his arms. He eyed the wall. He would love to ram you up against it, make you squirm beneath him. Maybe throw you up so that your heat was in line with his face, legs wrapped around his head, back against the wall.

“Drac,” your voice broke his thoughts and he looked over at you, in just a pair of black lacy thongs and matching bra, “stop drooling, you’re soaking the sheets.” You winked.

“I believe the person who quite literally soaked the sheets was you.” It was his turn to smirk.

“Yeah but...” you trailed off, flushing, “get dressed.” You hissed in embarrassment. 

Dracula chuckled, pushing himself up to follow your orders. He knew you were already freaking out, he didn’t want to stress you any more. Within minutes, you were both dressed and you were staring at the door. Dear god, you were certain that the whole of London had heard you last night.

~^*^~

You sat opposite your mother, hands in your lap as she glowered at you. Dracula was sitting besides you, opposite your father who was lighting a cigarette.

The tension swirled in the air.

“You not hungry, Drac?” Your father spoke, breathing out a cloud of white. He pointed to the plate with an untouched full English.

“I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite this morning, I’ve already eaten.” Dracula smiled politely and you shot him a look. When had he snuck out?

“What? After all of your strenuous activity from last night?” You gawked at your father. He had that look on his face that you knew all too well. He was doing this to get a rise out of your mother.

“[F/N]!” She shrieked.

“What?” Your father shrugged, taking another drag. Dracula smirked, “I’m just saying. If I’d been that busy, I’d be eating like a pig.”

“You are a pig.” She grumbled, “I cant believe you [First]!” And he had started her off... you shot your father look, “Doreen three doors down heard you! Not to mention you kicking poor Chelsea to the curb like that!”

“She had it coming.” You muttered.

“She did not ‘have it coming’!” Her face was turning purple as you started to sulk at her outburst, “she was only being nice!”

“Mother, being nice is laughing at a joke or asking if somebody has a pet! Not climbing all over them when you know they’re in a relationship!” You snapped back, narrowing your eyes. Both men were watching, very clearly enjoying the commotion.

“You didn’t need to do that to her! Oh my goodness, what are the wives going to be saying about this?” She dramatically put her hand to her face.

“Oh, you just worry about the gossip, eh?!” You slammed your hands down on to the table, “don’t worry about how your own damn daughter feels about some bitch trying to sleep with her boyfriend!”

“[First].” Your father said sternly, “don’t swear at your mother. And don’t hit the table, it’s real mahogany. None of that veneer shit.”

“You just worry about your table, [F/N]! Don’t worry about your poor old wife being abused by her only daughter!” Your mother cried out, in hysterics all of a sudden.

“I just told her! What else do you want me to do?” Your father defended.

“My god, I liked that Daniel fellow more than this...” your mother whispered.

“Mother, I had sex with Daniel in your bed when you went to Tenerife for two weeks. We also had sex on your porch swing, which is how it broke!”

Your father and Dracula had to conceal their fits of laughter at your confession and your mother’s subsequent shock that followed. A high-pitched sound of distress came from her ajar mouth.

“I KNEW IT WASN’T MRS. DENNINGS’ CAT!”

“Oh, and another thing - I don’t give a damn who heard me last night! I don’t care if all of London heard me because I love him-“ you pointed to Dracula, “and if I want to scream and cry at the way he makes me feel in the privacy of my own bedroom, then I will!”

Now, bearing in mind that Dracula hadn’t really felt anything in around 473 years (the length of time it had been since his heart had last beat), the way that you defended yourself by screaming for the whole street to hear that you loved him-. Well, there was a pang of something in his chest and the need to be as close to you as physically possible grew exponentially. You really were something different. Falling in love with a vampire, disobeying your own mother, working for an organisation that is definitley doing different to what it says on paper, yet the whole time regaining your innocence and your goodness. Your emotions wrapping you up and controlling almost every single thing that you did. You loved him - and he was certain that he loved you even more.

“[First] [Last]!” She cried out, face almost bulging in her despair, “how could you do this to me?! I’m going to be the topic of all of their gossip for weeks!”

“I don’t care! And neither should you! It’s gossip! Half of it isn’t even true!”

“How could you say that?! Barbra heard from Clarissa last week that Jenny has some man on the side and Sally has photo evidence!”

“That’s her cousin, mother!” You cried out, frustration filling your body. How someone could be so hung up on all of this trivial stuff was beyond you.

“Still! Everyone is going to be talking my daughter - the savage who beat poor Chelsea to the street and then who screamed the street down having angry sex afterwards with a man her father’s age!” You could tell that she was getting worked up and you sighed.

“Right. If you are going to dwell on this, then I am going to get up, walk out of that front door and you can consider yourself childless.” Her jaw dropped.

“[First].” Your father warned sternly.

“I’ve completely had it with you, now, worrying over everything everyone says about everyone else. They’ve twisted your mind so much that you’d actually try and control your adult daughter? You’re just upset that I wouldn’t go with Mark, but he’s a creep. He takes pictures up women’s skirts and goes to bars to hit on literal teenagers. And if you can’t accept that I am with Dracula, the man that I love, and you would rather worry over all the gossip that comes from it, then I am done and you can just have your son in Thailand who hasn’t been bothered to call in four years instead of your daughter who moved down the street just to be near you. I can’t take this anymore.”

“[First] [Last] will you get a grip of yourself?” Your father spoke lowly, tapping his cigarette onto the empty plate to rid some of the ash.

“You won’t leave me.” Your mother whispered, “you can’t. Because you know you’ll need me when he gets bored of you.”

Snap.

“Fuck you.”

You rose, glaring at her in a thousand ways. Your heart throttled in your chest. Now she’d done it. You knew that she loved you. Of course she did, but she would never let things go. She had always critiqued both your brother and yourself with every choice the pair of you made, but ever since your brother had left, she’d began to spend nearly all her time with the wives gossiping. She had become a tyrant and it was eating you up. You were tired of her constant criticism. You were tired of having to live to appease her friends. You weren’t doing it anymore.

“This is why [B/N] left.” You sneered, “because of you. Because he was in love with Kannika but you just wouldn’t stop trying to force him into a way of life to appease your friends. But not me, I won’t do it. Now I’m gonna go grab my shit. If I haven’t got a sincere apology from you before I open that front door, I am gone. Just like [B/N].” Your mother was staring at you in horror, tears in her eyes. Now your father was looking at your sharply.

You turned, fleeing the room and storming up the stairs. It only took a moment for the door to shut behind you and for Dracula to be blocking it once more. Once your dress was bundled in your arms, you turned to look at him.

“Move.” You growled.

“[First], you don’t want to do this.” He spoke softly.

“Yes I do. Now move so that I can teach her a lesson.”

“No matter your age, it isn’t a child’s place to teach their parents a lesson.”

“What? So you’re just gonna let her talk about us like that? Like we’re some freaky couple or something? No, move.” Now it was him that you were glaring at.

“[First], this is your mother. You don’t want to cut her out.”

“Very clearly I do. Move!” You bellowed.

“I am not moving. You are going to sort this out.” His voice darkened with his growing anger.

“Oh, I am, am I?”

“Yes.”

“And since when did you become the boss of me, huh? Being your girlfriend doesn’t make me your property, Dracula.” Your eyes narrowed. Now you were trying to pick a fight with him, too. He knew that you didn’t mean it but he couldn’t help the anger bubbling in his gut. You were being a brat.

“I am being serious. You need to calm yourself down, recollect your mind and go downstairs and have a civil conversation with your mother.”

“Alright. You go back down. I’ll calm down and meet you down there.”

Like fuck you were. Dracula, wanting to believe with every fibre of his being that you wouldn’t flee, gave you all of his trust and left the room. You were so gone with the anger. It hadn’t really settled down since last night. Grabbing your bag that you had brought last night, making sure your phone was in, you pulled out a backpack from your wardrobe and stuffed it inside, along with your dress and both of your shoes. Dracula had retrieved the one you threw at Chelsea - most likely when he went out to eat whilst you were sleeping.

And then you did something that you hadn’t done since you were seventeen years of age.

Clambering onto the bed, you tugged your backpack on and drew up the blinds to free the glass of the window. It was unlocked, and you pushed it open. You swung your leg over it was maybe only a foot away from the roof of the extended front, and you lowered yourself down. Carefully, you manuvered over the tiles, so that you could drop down by the front door, instead of the large window which would give you away.

Were you really going to do this? You had no idea what Dracula would do when he found you gone and the window open. You knew that this would break your parents’ hearts. You knew that Doreen three doors down would tell the whole city that you had fled your own home in the morning. You had to do this. Enough was enough.

Your feet hit the path, the pressure of dropping spreading through your legs. You turned and rushed to the gate. When you made it to the fence, you ducked down and waddled in a squat so that they wouldn’t see you rushing past.

“She’s going to calm down and then apologise.” Dracula explained to your mother, who was in genuine tears at the thought of both of her children leaving her in anger.

“She’s not.” Your father spoke.

“I’ve just spoken to her-“ Dracula began, but your father cut him off.

“I’ve just seen her run down the front path.” He lit another cigarette as he spoke.

Another pang of something hit Dracula in the chest. This one was painful. He ran to the door, skidding as he did so and rushed out. He caught a glimpse of you turning the corner.

“[FIRST]!” He made a dash for you. But once he reached the corner and began to sprint down the road, he realised that you had disappeared, “I’m going to kill her.” He whispered, feeling an intense wave of pain in his chest - something that hadn’t occurred in almost five centuries.

~^*^~

You sat across from Jack. You were still angry, but for his sake, you decided to just calm yourself. A cup of hot coffee sat steaming in front of you. The scent wafted into your nostrils and you sighed.

“Rough night?” Jack teased. You guessed he had heard some of your night with the Count.

“Rough morning. I climbed out of the window. My mother’s’ furious with me and she can go fuck herself.” You grumbled.

“What did you expect? She’s been trying to set you up with Mark for the better part of ten years and you waltz in with someone definitely not approved.”

“I didn’t realise a 26 year old needed her mother’s permssion to date.” There was a pause, “let’s not talk about it-“ your phone buzzing cut your off. You dug it out of your bag.

Dracula.

You switched off your phone and turned your attention back to Jack.

“What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I mean, I needed both of you here, to be honest...” he trailled off.

“Dracula doesn’t matter. Just tell me.”

“Alright. So, you know his lawyer, Renfield?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he told me what happened at the apartment. When he fought Dracula over you...”

“Right...?”

“He came to Robin Hood’s Bay, expecting you to have fled there. He’s totally gone beserk, [First]. He’s trying to track you down.” Your heart began to falter.

“What do mean he’s trying to track me down? What does he want with me?” The horror beginning to lace your words was drowning your tone and you began to rut your leg up and down under the table.

“He’s a vampire, [First]. He wants your blood. Specifically yours.”

You completely froze up. This was it. You couldn’t outrun a vampire, you knew that from Dracula. One way or another, he would find you, and eventually, so would Renfield. Essentially, Jack had come to tell you that you were sooner (much rather than later), going to die.

“What- I-... what are we-? What am I gonna do?!” You whispered in a panic.

“I don’t know. Do you think you could get to [B/N] anytime soon?”

“He’d find me, wouldn’t he? All he’d have to do is find out where my brother is and he’d find a way to get to Thailand.”

“Alright, well, is there anyone else that you could stay with?”

“...no...” you whispered.

Jack bit his lip in thought. An idea occurred to him. He knew that it would work. The only problem, of course, would be you. Making you agree to it would be so difficult.

“Why don’t you stay with Daniel for a while?”

You began to laugh at his words, after an initial pause of “what the fuck”.

“Yeah, right!”

“I’m serious. Literally no one would think about you going there.”

“Yeah, I’m being hunted by the most dangerous creature to exist, let me just go suffer for the last few days of my life by spending them with my cheating ex.”

~^*^~

You glared into the familiar emerald orbs, loathing the hand on your shoulder that forced you through the threshold of the apartment. You stepped away from the touch, looking around. It was small and cozy, quite homely. Clearly there had been a downgrade after you had left.

He looked at you, and then at Jack. Jack had never been so serious in all of their years of friendship, and he thought that he’d never see you again. He took in the sight of you. You had gone through your final change of adulthood during your split, your face maturing one last time, leaving you looking even more beautiful than the last time he had seen you. You had grown just a little taller, almost matching his height now.

Stepping backwards, he sat down on one of his two sofas and motioned for you to sit. Jack steered you towards the material and forced you down like a disobedient dog.

“What can I do for you?”

It was the first time had spoken a full sentence since that day and you remembered his voice speaking all sorts of things to you. Jack rummaged in your bag. He was about to do something that he knew would break your heart. He had to. Your safety was number one priority.

“She needs to stay here for a while.” Jack explained, pulling your phone from the bottom of your back and switching it back on.

“Why?” He leaned forwards. His hair had grown quite a bit and the blond locks fell into his eyes a little.

“It’s a long story, and you won’t believe it. So all you need to know is that someone dangerous is after her. She needs to be kept safe.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You were shaking a little. Ever since you had ran away from this city, from this very person sitting in front of you, you had forced your heart back together without getting closure on the pain. Right now, it felt almost as raw as it had done. You could be married to him right now. None of this would be happening. You could be a mother, with a house and a loving husband. Yet you weren’t. You were here, sitting across from the man you had fled from, fleeing from a monster who wanted to kill you.

“She can stay.” He spoke, unable to take his eyes from you. It had been so long.

“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll pay you for extra food and stuff.”

“I’m not a pet.” You growled to Jack.

“No one said you were.” Daniel answered for him.

You couldn’t reply. You didn’t really care what Jack was doing on your phone. Maybe you would have if you had looked over.

[DraccyBoifriend: where are you?]

[DraccyBoifriend: come back.]

[DraccyBoifriend: you need to sort this out.]

[DraccyBoifriend: [First]. Please.]

[DraccyBoifriend: 6 Missed Calls]

[You: it’s over. we’re through.]

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @savebensolo-ordie

[st-crylo]

Rebound

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been forever since I posted a fic here, but I figured now is as good a time as ever! I hope you enjoy this nice highschool au, I’ve been sitting on it for a while! I will be posting this on ao3 as well, so if that’s a medium you prefer to read on, the link is on my masterlist!

Warnings: Infidelity, some minor swearing, tobacco use

Word Count: 6K

Summary: You’re about to start your senior year at Mos Eisley High when your life gets turned around. After receiving an anonymous text, you find that your boyfriend of three years cheated on you. Now, you walk into your senior year, everything different, not knowing what to expect from the school year. However, an old friend of yours, Kylo Ren, walks back into your life, and has an interesting idea for how to get back at your ex...

Masterlist

It was, without a doubt, the worst day of your entire life. As you sat there, surrounded by your friends in the coffee shop you always haunted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the picture you’d been sent by some unknown person. Horror and despair filled every part of your being as you examined the picture of your boyfriend full on making out with another girl. Your surroundings felt surreal, as if they didn’t exist, as if the only thing that existed in the world was you and the picture, and it was burned into your memory forever. You feared you would see it even with your eyes closed, so you continued to stare, unblinking, at the photo.

“(y/n)?” came Rey’s voice, pulling you away from the screen of your phone as tears started to form in your eyes. Everyone’s eyes were on you as you looked up, and you felt a wave of emotion washing over you as you looked into the faces of each of your friends. You handed the phone to Poe, who was right next to you, bowing your head in your misery as he examined the contents on the screen, trying your damnedest not to let the floodgates spill.

“That prick,” Poe stated before he passed the phone around. Every one of your friends examined the photo, each one letting out their personal outrage over the situation. You, though, you couldn’t even speak. You were frozen in time, your heart feeling an icy pain sweep over it before your phone was handed back to you. Once it was securely in your hand, your vocal chords started working again.

“I’m sorry guys, I have to go home,” you said as you stood up. Finn, who was sitting across the table from you, also stood. 

“I’ll give you a ride home, (y/n),” Finn offered, but you shook your head. You wanted to be alone right now, to wail in sadness on your own, undisturbed by the condolences of others. You wanted to feel every bit of pain you were feeling right now so that when Shawn inevitably came crawling back, you would be able to turn him away with as much hatred as you could muster. 

“I’ll see you guys on Monday,” you said finally before leaving the coffee shop. As you passed the glass doors into the world on the sunny August day, your eyes decided they could no longer hold back, and you wept the entire walk home.

What a way to start senior year, huh?

***

Over the course of the weekend, your phone was blowing up, much like you’d expected. Most of them were from Shawn, apologizing, begging for you to take him back, promising it would never happen again. You didn’t care, though. The calls from him became so incessant, you had to put your phone on do not disturb.

He wasn’t the only one messaging you, though. In the short span of a few hours after you’d received the photo, it seemed that everyone you went to school with knew. 

From DM’s on your instagram to people you hadn’t shared but three words with somehow getting your phone number, you felt you couldn’t even have a moment of peace to escape from the harsh reality that your boyfriend of three years had cheated on you. You almost felt like you were suffocating, with no one giving you air to breathe, or even time to process everything that was going on. It made putting your phone on do not disturb all the easier. 

Unfortunately, despite everything that happened, Monday seemed to come in a flash. As you climbed out of bed after shutting off your alarm, you walked over to the bathroom, staring at your reflection for a few minutes. You looked just as exhausted as you felt, and your depression was clear from the bags under your eyes, not to mention how puffy they still were from all the crying you’d done. Heaving a sigh, you pulled your hair back before brushing your teeth. A week ago, you’d wanted to look nice for your last first day of school, but under the circumstances, you didn’t really care about your wardrobe, and opted for leggings and a t-shirt.

As you headed out of your room and down the stairs, you could hear your mom and dad talking in hushed voices. 

“I don’t know, maybe she shouldn’t go to school just yet. She barely left her room all weekend,” your mom said, concern lacing her voice.

“It’ll probably be better for her to go to school, talk to some people, instead of being holed up in her room,” came your dad’s resigned voice. He looked like he was going to say something else, but he saw your face around the corner as you came down the last of the stairs. “Good morning sweetie.” He smiled at you, and you attempted to smile back, but you already knew it wasn’t a convincing one.

“Do you want a ride to school? It’s been raining all morning,” Your mom said, handing you your lunch box as you walked into the kitchen.

“No, it’s fine. I have my umbrella, I can walk,” you said, giving another half-assed smile. The idea of sitting in a car with your mother right now was unbearable, you just wanted to walk. After all, your school was across the street from your neighborhood’s entrance.

“Okay. Be safe. Happy last first day of school,” your mom said before giving you a hug. When she finally let go, you headed to the door, opening up the door to a slight gust of wind.

The rain was just heavy enough to be uncomfortable, and now you wished you accepted that ride. However, as you started your walk down the cul de sac you lived on, you heard a voice call from the driveway of your next door neighbors.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

 You turned your head to see Kylo Ren leaning against his beat up ‘75 Mustang. He didn’t have anything on his head, so the water fell freely onto his black hair, making some of the strands stick to the side of his cheeks. 

You and Kylo had a strange history. When the two of you were younger, and he still went by Ben, you were practically inseparable, but middle school came around and changed both of you. While you started to hang around more popular and well-behaved kids, Kylo began to hang out with the rebel crowd. Over the years, you saw Kylo less and less, only really catching glimpses of him when he came to visit his grandparents. 

You thought about what to do now. Kylo had a reputation, sure, but you couldn’t help the nagging voice of your mother coming in the back of your head, telling you to stay away from his crowd. It didn’t stop you from turning around, though.

“Hey, what’s up?” You said as you approached the end of the driveway.

“You’re not gonna walk in this, are you? I was about to head to school too, I can give you a ride,” he offered. You were a little shocked at first.The last conversation the two of you had really had was probably in seventh grade, but now he was offering you a ride? A part of you was hesitant, and couldn’t help be suspicious. Sure, he’d never done anything to you, but you couldn’t help but think of the comments made from others about him. Then, you remembered a lot of those comments came from Shawn, and what better way to piss him off than arrive at school in the car of someone he’d warned you against so many times? As petty as it was, you were angry enough to do it.

“That would be great. My mom offered me a ride, but I really didn’t want to be stuck in the car with her, even if it’s just to get to school,” you explained. Kylo gave you a half smile before pushing some of his wet hair out of his face. You smiled, your first genuine smile in days, and walked over to the passenger side of his car, closing your umbrella before climbing in. Kylo slid in as well, shutting the door before revving the engine to life. He turned his torso to look out the back window as he pulled out of the driveway, then changed gears and headed for school. 

“So how was your summer?” he asked, tapping his finger along with the bass line of the song softly playing on the speakers. You let out a sigh as you looked out the window, watching the raindrops roll down the window.

“Great, until last Thursday,” you replied, twiddling your thumbs in your lap, feeling your throat start to constrict. Stop, you thought to yourself. You told yourself you weren’t gonna cry today, get it together. 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. What a prick,” Kylo said as he stopped at one of the many stop signs in your neighborhood. “I’ll beat his ass if you want me to.”

You chuckled lightly as you shook your head. “No, but if I change my mind, I’ll make sure to come to you first.” Kylo smiled, stopping at the red light at the end of your neighborhood. 

“Good thing you accepted my ride offer, then,” he stated as the light turned green, and the two of you pulled into the parking lot of the school, Kylo driving to his designated parking space. 

“Why’s that?” You asked, curious if Kylo had caught on to the reason you’d accepted the ride.

“Because he’s hated me since middle school. It’s cause I punched him that one time. But seeing you get out of my car, that’s gonna get him heated,” Kylo responded, a smirk on his face. Seemed like Kylo wanted to piss Shawn off as much as you did.

Kylo pulled into his parking spot, then put the car in park, checking the time. It was 7:28. The school didn’t open the door for students until 7:45. 

“You can hang out here with me, if you want. Probably wouldn’t be good for you to stand in the rain til they unlock the doors,” Kylo offered as he pulled a cigarette box out of his jacket pocket. As he pulled a cig out, he rolled the window down just enough to filter out the smoke. “Do you mind?” he asked, looking at you before lighting his cigarette. You shook your head, but rolled your window out a little just in case.

“What about you?” you asked as you turned to face Kylo. He held the lighter up to the edge of the cigarette, the flame of the lighter reflecting in his eyes for a brief moment, before he drew in a big breath, slowly exhaling the smoke out the window. 

“Well, I got caught ‘vandalizing’ the skate park off Saints Boulevard, so I was under house arrest for most of the summer. I actually just got off last week, and that’s when Mom and Dad decided I should stay with Gran and Granpa Skywalker,” he responded, looking down at his phone, and quickly typing out a message before placing it on his lap, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

“Oh shit. How long?” you asked, watching him carefully. You hadn’t had a conversation with Kylo in so long, it was weird to hear how differently things were for him than they were back then. Of course, what damage could a twelve year old do? However, you did notice that he had a lot of the same quirks, like the way he grimaced before talking, or the way he always had to have his fingers tapping. It was a strange thing to see how someone could be so different, but still remain the same. 

“Indefinitely. Mom thinks that Gran can whip me back into shape, not that I was really ever the shape her and dad wanted me in,” Kylo said with a frown. You couldn’t help but frown too. After all, everyone in town had pretty much agreed that Kylo was a disappointment child.

“Well, look on the brightside, at least you have a cool new neighbor,” you said with a smile.

“Old man Kenobi?” Kylo asked, a wicked grin on his face. You shook your head as you laughed, turning the opposite direction. It was then that you noticed a group of people watching you. Upon further inspection, you realized it was Shawn and his posse, who were all glaring daggers at you, but it was Shawn’s face that caught you most off guard. He had a look of hurt on his face, as if you’d betrayed him, simply by being in the same car as Kylo Ren. 

Kylo noticed your silence, and looked to see what you were looking at. You turned your face away, unable to look at Shawn any longer, anger and sadness building up in you. It was then that you noticed Kylo stick his hand forward, proudly flicking Shawn off, causing his face to contort with rage. Shawn turned around, and headed into the school. 

“Fuck that guy. My offer still stands,” Kylo said with a huff before taking a final drag of his cigarette before dropping the butt into the car’s ashtray. You smiled, but it was another one of those half-assed smiles as you wiped some tears from your eyes.

“It’s okay. He isn’t worth that kind of energy anyways,” you said as you looked at the clock. It was already almost 8, and you were supposed to be in homeroom at 8:15. 

“Thanks for the ride, Kylo,” you said as you opened the door to his car. 

“No problem, (y/n). If you need a ride home, too, let me know,” he said as he also climbed out of the car, locking the doors as soon as you were both out. You gave him one last smile before heading to the school entrance. 

Mos Eisley High School definitely looked different than it had when you’d left it at the end of May. More importantly, it felt different. As you walked through the halls that were beginning to crowd, with the arrivals of both buses and students who drove or were dropped off, you could feel the stares of people following you. More importantly, you could hear their whispers too.

“Apparently the girl in the pic is a sophomore at Corellia High.”

“I heard he might’ve gotten her pregnant.”

“Didn’t Shawn and (y/n) date for, like, years?”

It was definitely hard to listen to, so as you pushed past the crowds to get to homeroom, you started blocking out all the sound around you. Even as you sat down in homeroom, you had blocked everyone out so well, you didn’t even register that Finn, who was now sitting beside you, had been calling your name. 

“Hey, we were all worried about you. Did you turn off your phone?” He asked. You let out a sigh.

“No, just put it on do not disturb. He wouldn’t stop calling me,” you responded. 

“Just let us know next time. You didn’t really give anyone a warning,” Finn said, right as the 8:15 bell rang. As soon as it did, the morning announcements came on, but you didn’t even bother to listen. A part of you wished you were still sitting in Kylo’s car, even to just sit in silence and smell the cigarette smoke wafting throughout the car. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that was the most lighthearted you’d been in the past few days. You also thought about how Kylo was your new neighbor. Who knew, maybe the two of you would become friends again? You were sure your current friends, not to mention, your parents, wouldn’t really like that, but you couldn’t help but feel there was more to Kylo than met the eye.

Once the announcements were done, your homeroom teacher, Mr. Daniels, passed out your schedules. You stared at your schedule and sighed. Already, you knew you had a long senior year ahead of you.

“What lunch do you have?” Finn asked, trading his schedule with yours. The two of you had one class together, Brit Lit for fourth block. You looked at Finn’s lunch time. He had first lunch, and you had third. 

“Oh well. Poe usually gets third lunch, you’ll probably have it with him at least,” Finn said.

As it turned out, none of your friends had third lunch. You’d decided to actually look at your messages- ignoring any from Shawn- and in the groupchat, you found that everyone had either first or second lunch, leaving you all alone. Perfect. 

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll find someone to sit with,” Finn assured you. You hoped he was right.

As the bell rang, you walked with Finn, listening to him talk about being excited for senior year, and all the things you guys would get to do together. As much as you loved his enthusiasm, you still couldn’t help that feeling of dread and sorrow in your heart. You’d been hoping to involve your boyfriend in all of these senior activities, but now everything was ruined because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

Your first two classes of the day seemed to pass by agonizingly slow. No matter what, talking about the syllabus of the class seemed to take a lifetime, and you found yourself unable to focus, settling on doodling on the hard copies given to you by your teachers, and blocking out any sound going on around you. Everywhere you went, there were whispers, and quite frankly, it was becoming more annoying than painful. After all, even if you and Shawn had been the “star couple,” as deemed by many of your peers, it wasn’t their business to know every little detail about the situation. Hell, even you didn’t really know everything about the story. You just knew your boyfriend had cheated on you, and it left a horrible pang in your heart that refused to go away.

It felt like an eternity, but finally it was time for lunch. As relieving as it was to not be in class, you still had the problem of who you were going to sit with. Sitting alone seemed like the best option, but at the same time, you felt that if you were sitting alone, more people would come up to you unwarranted. Now you were starting to panic, at least until you felt a tap on your shoulder, and saw a shadow loom over you. You turned around and felt your face curve in a smile in relief.

“Hey, (y/n). Got no one to sit with?” Kylo asked, pushing a lock of his black hair out of his eyes. On the inside, you were letting out a huge sigh of relief. If you sat with Kylo, no one would dare mess with you.

“Was it that obvious?” you mused, giving him a half smile. 

“Not really, you just kind of had that body language. Come on, you can sit with us,” Kylo said, placing a hand on your shoulder as he led you to a secluded table by the door to the outdoor seating. One look out the window told you that the rain wasn’t going to let up by the time school was over.

Kylo sat down, and you took the seat next to him, looking at the three others sitting at the table. One of them you recognized as Gwen Phasma, who, to your knowledge, only went by Phasma. Her blonde hair was cut into a pompadour, styled with gel, and her grey eyes were lined with thick black liner. She looked up at you and gave you a smirk.

“(y/n) (y/l/n)? Pleasure to meet you, I’m Phasma.” She held out her hand to you, and you took it, making sure to have a firm grip. Phasma picked up on it and smiled. You looked over to the other two, but you didn’t really know them that well.

“(y/n), this is Alan Tabash, a junior who we adopted, and that is Sami Martinez,” Kylo introduced. You looked at the two, Alan nodded at you as he forked his school meal, and Sami waved before she went back to drawing in her sketchbook. You looked around at the group and noticed that they were all wearing black jackets with the initials K.O.R. stitched onto the pocket on the front.

“K.O.R.?” You asked, looking up at Kylo. He looked down at his jacket, then back to you.

“Yeah, Knights of Ren,” Kylo answered, almost shyly. You saw Sami roll her eyes, though you tried not to draw attention to it. 

“So, what brings you to our side of the cafeteria?” Phasma asked before taking a bite from an apple.

“Well, none of my other friends have the same lunch, so really the only person I care to sit with right now is Kylo,” you admitted as you started pulling your lunch out of your lunch box. 

“Can’t say I blame you. Mos Eisley High sure does love its gossip, and man, you are really the center of it right now,” Phasma noted. You watched as Kylo tried to subtly elbow her, but your focus had just turned to staring at the table as an iciness filled your gut. So everyone really did know, huh? Fantastic.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I upset you,” Phasma said, breaking you out of your trance. You noticed how her voice got softer, and as you looked into her eyes, so did their expression. However, the only response you could give was a forced smile.

“Hey, let me see your schedule,” came Kylo’s voice, quickly changing the subject. You fished through your backpack and pulled it out, Kylo tossing you his own. As you looked, you noticed that the two of you shared your last two classes together. “Sick, all four of us have lit together.”

You smiled up at Kylo as you handed him back his schedule. He gave you a half-smile back, and took a bite out of a brownie. In some strange way, in that moment it felt like, despite the years, nothing had really changed with you two. 

The rest of lunch was spent learning about Alan and Sami. Alan, you learned, was actually the younger brother of someone who had graduated last year, Milo Tabash. Milo and Kylo had become good friends Kylo’s freshman year, and the two formed their small group called the Knights of Ren. Sami had gotten roped in when she first transferred to Mos Eisley, having made friends with Kylo and Milo. Now, she was Milo’s girlfriend. Alan got tied in because Kylo, Sami, and Phasma embraced him with open arms. Apparently there were two more people in the Knights of Ren, but you didn’t think to ask about them. You were sure you’d meet them eventually.

Soon enough, the bell to end lunch rang, and you threw out your lunch as Kylo waited for you at the exit to the cafeteria. You quickly slung your backpack onto your shoulder and walked over to Kylo.

“Not ready for Mr. Windu’s class. He always looks like he wants to catch me doing something wrong,” Kylo remarked with a frown. You frowned as well. Anyone who was close with any of Kylo’s family was constantly making sure Kylo didn’t get up to anything, and since Kylo’s uncle was a teacher as well, that practically meant all of them watched him like a hawk.

“Well, lucky for you, no one expects me to get into trouble, so if we stick together, I’m sure everything will be okay,” you assured him. After all, you’d always been a good kid, favored by teachers and parents alike. Maybe hanging out with you would earn Kylo some slack. 

As the two of you crossed the threshold of Mr. Windu’s classroom, you froze in your tracks. You should have expected this, after all, you were both seniors, but it really was a nightmare come to fruition. You tried your hardest not to make eye contact, deciding to turn away and grab Kylo’s arm, dragging him along to the table furthest away from Shawn. Kylo didn’t ask any questions and simply went along with you, sitting down beside you at the lab table. As soon as the two of you sat down, the room went deadly silent, and you hoped and prayed for nothing to happen next.

Then you heard the sliding of a chair against the tile, footsteps following afterwards, making every inch of your body tense up and fill with anxiety.

“Hey,” came Shawn’s voice from above you, but you didn’t dare look up. You heard Kylo scoff from beside you.

“Move along, Alvarez, clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Kylo said, glaring up at Shawn, his arms crossed.

“Stay out of this, Solo. (y/n), can we please talk?” Shawn bit back, his voice becoming softer when he spoke to you. You felt tears prick at your eyes, but you still didn’t budge. You wanted desperately to scream in his face, to tell him to leave you alone and never speak to you again, but you didn’t want that kind of attention. Lucky for you, Kylo picked up on how you were feeling.

“Look, you don’t deserve even a word from her, let alone a whole conversation. Fuck off, Alvarez,” Kylo said, this time his stare like daggers. Shawn gave him a sneer, and stepped back as the late bell rang.

“Watch out, (y/n), someone like him is only gonna get you into trouble,” Shawn said as he walked away. You looked up at Kylo and saw the fire in his eyes, and his fists clenched. 

Mr. Windu came in from the hallway, and began to take attendance. The more names he called out, the more you began to relax. After the syllabus was passed around, you went back to doodling, but this time on Kylo’s stuff. He did the same to you, and you had to fight to keep your laughter controlled as Kylo drew ridiculous drawing after ridiculous drawing.

“I hope you like the person sitting next to you, because that’s going to be your lab partner for the semester,” Mr. Windu stated, causing both you and Kylo to look up from your respective drawings. “That means that any projects assigned throughout the semester, the person you are sitting with is going to be your partner. I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s just the way it is.” 

Not long after, the bell rang, and you and Kylo quickly rushed out of Mr. Windu’s classroom to avoid another confrontation.

“Thanks for fending him off,” you said to Kylo softly, looking up at him as the two of you walked through the crowded hall. 

“It’s no problem. He shouldn’t be fucking with you anyway,” Kylo stated with nonchalance. You felt a small smile embrace your lips as the two of you continued down the hall. Soon, you reached the classroom of Mr. Skywalker. Before going in, Kylo stopped, heaved a huge sigh, and the two of you walked in. 

As you looked around the room, you noticed four of your friends, Finn, Poe, Rey, and Rose. The four of them were smiling at you until they saw who you walked in with. Their expressions forced you to remember that none of them liked Kylo. You smiled back though, and noticed that Sami wasn’t sitting too far from them. You and Kylo walked over to Sami and sat in the two desks behind her.

“How was physics?” Sami asked as she closed her sketchbook and turned to face the two of you.

“Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse,” Kylo said, leaning back in his seat. Within moments, the bell rang, and Phasma walked in, settling down next to Sami.

“Alright class, welcome back,” came the voice of Mr. Skywalker from his desk. “When I call your name, you can just raise your hand. If you want to be called something else just let me know.” As Mr. Skywalker took attendance, you decided to take a peek at your phone, and noticed a text from Poe. 

Why are you sitting with Kylo Ren? 

You looked up to see Poe looking back at you with a confused look on his face. With a small sigh, you started typing away.

Catching up with an old friend. 

All three of you used to be friends in elementary school, but you and Poe split off together, leaving Kylo to find his new crowd. Now, Poe was one of those people weary of Kylo, which made you sad to think about. The three of you had such good times together when you were kids.

“I’m gonna pass out a calendar, and then we’re gonna go over the books we’re reading this semester. Don’t worry, it’s only two novels, one play, and one poem. Shouldn’t take us too long,” Mr. Skywalker said, handing the person sitting at the front of the class a pile of paper to pass around. When the calendars came to you, you looked at the assignments. Only two essays, two tests, a project, and a quiz after each piece of literature. You’d heard that there wasn’t much workload in Mr. Skywalker’s class, but you could see how the lack of grades would make it easy to pass or fail.

“Alright, everyone got one? Okay, so this semester, we’re going to be reading 1984, by Orwell, Hard Times, by Dickens, Beowulf, and Midsummer Night’s Dream,” started Mr. Skywalker. “If you’ve looked at the calendar, you’ll see the assignments for the semester. You’ll only be doing essays on Hard Times and Beowulf, but there is a partner project for Midsummer Night’s Dream, so go ahead and think about who you want to work on that with.”

After Mr. Skywalker finished talking about the assignments, you began to drown out his words, and instead watched the rain falling outside from the window behind his desk. The day hadn’t been as terrible as you had feared it would be, and for that you were thankful. You were definitely thankful for how willing Kylo was to accept you again, and you almost wondered if there was a reason behind it. It didn’t worry you, though, because at least now you had a friend who didn’t look at you like you were wounded, and didn’t expect you to talk about what was bothering you. 

You didn’t pay attention for the rest of class, and were only broken out of your trance when everyone began to pack up their things. 

“Are you gonna need a ride home?” Kylo asked, gesturing to outside the window, where the rain was getting heavier. 

“Yeah, that would be great,” you answered, pulling out your phone to see another text from Poe.

Just be careful.

The bell rang, and people rushed to get out of the door, and you started to rise from your seat. 

“Ben, come here,” came the voice of Mr. Skywalker, causing all four of you to turn around. Kylo sighed, and turned to you.

“Just wait for me outside the door, this shouldn’t take long,” he said in a very resigned voice, turning to go talk to his uncle. You did as Kylo asked, walking out with Sami and Phasma, who were talking about an event coming up, which you gathered had something to do with skating. As you passed the threshold and into the hall, you leaned against the wall next to the door, trying your hardest not to eavesdrop, but failing.

“Yeah, Uncle Luke?” you heard Kylo’s voice say, laced with annoyance.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m glad you’re hanging out with (y/n). She’s a good kid,” you heard Mr. Skywalker say.

“I know,” was Kylo’s only response before you heard his heavy footsteps heading your way. When Kylo walked out, he looked to see if you were still there, and when you were, he simply nodded for the two of you to get going. You walked together to the entrance of the school, rushing to his car as soon as you left the safety of the school. 

Once the two of you were safely in the car, you let out a laugh as Kylo started the car. In minutes, Kylo was pulling out of his parking spot, taking a spot in line with the after school traffic.

“Thanks for making today not terrible,” you said, looking over at Kylo with a smile. Kylo shrugged, but gave you a half smile as he turned to look at you.

“Hey, I understand what it’s like to go through this situation. I thought you might just want a friend who wasn’t gonna badger you about it,” he admitted.

“I appreciate it. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” You knew that at one point last year, Kylo had a girlfriend, but you weren’t aware that their relationship had ended, so now you were curious. 

“No it’s fine,” he said before pulling a cigarette out and rolling down the window. He lit the cigarette and took a couple of puffs. “I dated this girl Stella, who I met through Sami. We weren’t really super serious at first, but eventually I wanted us to be. She claimed she wanted to be too, but then I caught her with Armitage Hux. Never looked back after that, only a text to tell her we were through.” You watched as Kylo’s whole demeanor changed. Sure, he was kind of brooding before, but his posture slouched, and his eyes looked a little glossed over. 

The rest of the ride back was spent in a comfortable silence, and pretty soon the two of you were pulling into the driveway of the Skywalkers. Kylo shut the engine off, relaxing in his seat for a moment. You watched him for a brief moment, then turned to get out of the car. Without warning, Kylo placed his hand on top of yours and you turned around. His expression changed, like he’d come to some brilliant revelation. 

“This might sound a little crazy, but I’m about to make a suggestion. All I’m doing is asking that you hear me out,” he said, pushing a lone piece of hair out of his face. You simply nodded as you waited for him to explain.

“We should pretend to date.”

You looked up at him, confused, and a little in shock. Had he really just asked this? You could understand the benefit you would get from it, but you failed to see how it would help him.

“Listen,” he continued, “Shawn hates me, so it would be perfect revenge for you, something to make him realize what he lost.”

“And what about you? You can’t want to do this out of the kindness of your heart, I mean, who would?” you asked. As enticing as getting back at Shawn sounded, considering all the hurt he’d caused you, there had to be a catch.

“Look, my whole family has always liked you. Uncle Luke talking to me had me thinking about that. I’m hoping that, by pretending to date you, they’ll think I’m trying to be better, and cut me some slack,” he explained. Your confusion went away, as you nodded in understanding. If Kylo’s parents had practically kicked him out of the house, they were probably hoping for some improvement. Maybe “dating” you was all the improvement he needed. After all, it would be great to see the look on Shawn’s face if the two of you “dated.” You still had your reservations though.

“I don’t know, Kylo. Let me think about it,” you said, moving to open the door. Kylo took a piece of paper and a pen he’d found and scribbled on a piece of paper. Shortly after, he handed the paper to you.

“Here. Text me if you decide before tomorrow morning,” he said. You smiled at him. Though shocked about his proposition, you still couldn’t help appreciate how much better he’d made your day.

“Okay,” you said, taking the piece of paper out of his hand. Once you shut the door behind you, you ran across the lawn to get to your house, trying to soak in as little rain as possible.

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Left Undone

Ted didn’t want to babysit Bill’s daughter. He didn’t like Bill, and Bill didn’t like him. Why did he have to be the only one in the office who was free for the weekend? Alice didn’t exactly want to be babysat either. She’s too old for that!

Little did Ted and Alice know how much fun they were going to have.

(AU wherein Alice has not dated Deb yet, Bill hasn’t divorced yet either; MASSIVE SPOILERS for BoJack Horseman Season 3 and Moulin Rouge! are discussed)

Friday Prologue | Saturday Chapter | Sunday Chapter | Monday Epilogue

Alice woke up fairly well-rested Saturday morning, forgetting for a second that she wasn’t in her own house.

Ted Spankoffski’s house had 3 bedrooms. One was a master bedroom where Ted slept and also did any other non-CCRP related work. Another was a room where Ted’s nerdy brother stayed for the Summer; ever since Ted got himself a house, his younger brother would stay over at his place during holidays and academic breaks.

Then there was the spare guest bedroom Alice was in where Ted had to set up for her the previous evening. It was very plain.

She went downstairs, explored a little, then found no one. She went back up, knocking on Ted’s bedroom door. No response.

Alice then decided to wash up instead, to feel fresh in the morning. She did all the work in the downstairs bathroom (Ted specifically told her to use that particular bathroom), leaving it as neat as it was before she came to the house.

She tried to knock on the door again, the increased strength of her rapping revealing to her that the room had not been locked, or closed properly for that matter.

She peeked in to find Ted who was still asleep, clutching a laptop like a stuffed toy. His shirt, boxers, and socks tied together with his slumped figure, which also seemed intertwined with the bedsheets. There were used tissues all over the bed, some on the floor making a trail to a semi-used paper towel roll. There were an empty bowl and two empty beer bottles on the bedside table. It reeked of Corona and clearly imported Honey Butter Chips.

Alice stepped in to try to wake Ted up, but the floor creaking below her was enough to make him jolt awake.

“Who the fu-“ Ted calmed down from the shock of waking up so suddenly, “A-Alice?!  Shit, I forgot you’re here,”

“I-Is there anything I can eat?”

Ted rose from his position, sitting upward on his bed, “...are you allergic to eggs? Milk?”

“No, I’m not allergic to either.”

“Good,” Ted yawned, getting up and stretching, “because my fridge is fucking empty.”

“I noticed.”

That was hyperbole...sort of. The only breakfast that could be made from Ted’s pantry was egg toast and cereal. There was enough for both of them to finish all of said egg toast and cereal.

“What were you watching last night?” Alice asked Ted, playing with her fruit loops a little.

“Hm?” He swallowed the last bite of his toast with instant coffee.

“You were crying for about thirty minutes; I couldn't sleep-”

“I-It was a sad episode, alright?!” Ted was slightly embarrassed, hesitating to take another sip of coffee, “That fucking baby seahorse will never know...”

Alice raised a brow, unaware of the reference. She ate some more cereal.

“Don’t give me that look, Alice!” That was Bill’s glare, alright, “BoJack Horseman is a very good show!”

“And you binged the whole thing last night?”

“It’s the new season. I’ve got two episodes left before I finish.” Ted then proceeded to chug down what was left of his coffee.

“My laptop died during my binge but it was late and I was just,” He blew a raspberry, “...I needed to sleep.”

“I’ve done that before, not gonna lie,” Alice place down the spoon, done with her breakfast, “Though, the show I watched was kinda...yeah, it was kinda shitty,”

“Let me guess: you’ve watched it because someone hot’s in it,”

Alice blushed, “I-It’s not just that!”

“Hey hey hey,” Ted chuckled, “I’m guilty of that, I ain’t judging.”

Alice hmphed, “Should I watch that—what’s that show?”

“BoJack Horseman?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Ted then began cleaning up by taking Alice’s utensils, stacking them with his, “it starts weak but gets so much better, like real fucking better. Dunno if you’re old enough to watch it though,”

“I’ve seen some pretty adult stuff! Mom makes me watch Tarantino movies with her, at least whenever Dad's not around sometimes,"

Ted nodded at Alice’s mother’s taste in film, “Aight, but that show just...it just hits somewhere really hard when you’re in your early thirties full of regret and with no discernible life direction but, hey! If you can take it, I’d be impressed.”

Alice blinked, “What? Is it like, psychological horror? The kind rooted in some comedically timed socio-political commentary?”

“Well, arguably.” Ted then got up to bring the dishes in his hands into the kitchen.

“...where can I find it?” She asked with mild interest.

“Netflix,” The sound of dishes landing in a sink was heard from Alice’s seat, “It’s a cartoon too, and like, about a bunch of animals, if those kinds of things float your boat.”

Alice never made it past Episode 1 when she tried to watch it herself, convinced Ted’s taste was shit. Personally, she will regret that.

The rest of that morning left Alice and Ted to their own individual devices. Alice typed away some interesting plots and ideas on her phone. Ted went to finish the last episodes of that sad horse show.

An hour before the time Alice would usually eat lunch, she had been cycling around various plotlines for a potential...well, something. Alice knew she just had to write something.

She was in the living area of the house when she heard Ted sloppily walk down the stairs. His eyes were teary.

"Are you alright, Mr. Spankoffski?" She looked at him with concern.

Ted shakily neared her, hesitating to sit on the couch next to her. He instead placed a languid hand on one of the couch's armrests.

"Please don't die on me, Alice, oh my God..."

He broke into sobs. Alice could only stare at this behavior in confusion.

"Did something bad happen in the show, or...?"

"Fuck, it got worse!" He sniffled, "A-And not, like, n-not in a bad writing context--that show's writing is the shit, Alice! But fuck! F-Fuck!"

Sarah Lynn was not supposed to die, but she did die and the fact left Ted devastated. A part of him knew it was gonna happen as he saw the old man, er, horse, and the poor girl in the motel, missing the Oscars. (Then again, that show had a penchant for hollowing, tragic endings per episode.)

Even in entertainment, in his favorite shows to watch, Ted Spankoffski knew better than to hope. It was more realistic for him.

"You can sit down," Alice moved aside to give Ted space to sit.

Ted cried as he sat next to her, "God, I'm sorry y-you had to see me like this,"

"I've...I-I've had worse breakdowns over a show. I-It's all good."

TV and Movie homophobia still haunted the teenage girl.

It's things like that, whether extravagant or subtle in delivery, that prompted her to write and clarify in any way that she could if only to fight. Alice Woodward was the kind of girl who refused to despair.

"Yeah, A-Alice?"

"Mhm," She nodded, quickly writing "character gets sucked into a tv show???" in her phone's Notes app.

"What if we watched something less depressing instead? You can watch it with me, Alice!" Ted breathed, "You're not bored, are you?"

She added "literally? figuratively? ehhh let the watchers decide??? kshfukdhivg" then kept her phone.

"No! N-No, I know how to keep myself, um, b-busy," Alice then shifted herself into a more comfortable position, "What movies do you have?"

Ted paused before answering, realizing he was hungry.

“You pick,” He said, getting up, “You want pizza with that?”

Alice nodded eagerly, watching Ted head for his phone.

“Wait, what am I supposed to pick?”

“There’s a bunch of CD cases in the drawer under the center table—it’s right in front of you!” Ted's voice decrescendoed as he headed upstairs.

“Drawer?” Alice wondered to herself, bending down to inspect the described center table. There was in fact a drawer.

She pulled it open to find bunches of CD cases, charging wires, and what clearly seemed to be unusable gadgets or “e-junk” as her father would, in a terribly corny way, put it.

Alice noticed a notable amount of movie musicals in one bundle of CD cases. The one that got her attention was Moulin Rouge!, unfamiliar with the title and very taken by the red-haired beauty printed on the cover. There was Jesus Christ Superstar, West Side Story, Rocky Horror Picture Show, and a bunch of Disney Princess movies. Upon further inspection of the non-musical movies, Ted had a diverse taste in film, though it was primarily pretty basic in Alice's opinion, minus a few exceptions.

She closed the drawer, further inspecting the Moulin Rouge CD cover by reading the synopsis on the back. An aspiring writer falls in love with a courtesan but other things get in the way? Alice could not blame the writer, in fact, she was quick to identify with him, even if she had not seen the movie yet.

“Alice?” Ted called from upstairs, “Are you allergic to anything I should know?”

“No,” She called back, playing with the CD cover.

“Good! I’m getting us a Bacon Surprise,”

“Alright,” Apparently Ted chose to order from that  Witchwood Ovens Shop downtown.

“What movie do you wanna watch?” Ted asked as he went back down. Alice showed him the CD cover.

“Moulin Rouge?” He mispronounced, “I actually have that in there?”

Alice handed the cover to Ted as he approached her, “I don’t think I’ve seen this one,”

“No shit, Alice. This movie’s got prostitution; if I know your Dad enough,” He stared at the cover, trying to remember when he got it, "he would make sure you'd never see it. God, I remember seeing this in the theater, like, when I was about your—h-how old are you again?"

"Fifteen, but I'll be sixteen later this year,"

"Eh, close enough," Ted then placed the CD cover down, ready to set up the television set in the living room.

"Nicole Kidman, man..." Ted dusted the CD player, plugging the TV into it, "She was the fucking best in that thing."

"Do you even know what happens in it?" Alice asked as she watched Ted at work, "Or were you just hoping Nicole Kidman would step on you?"

"Don't you fucking shame me, Alice!" Ted gasped back as he blushed, "If you had any taste in women, you'd want the same Goddamn thing."

Ted guessed correctly, keeping the girl from returning his snark.

It was around the Elephant Love Medley when the pizza arrived. Ted was kind enough to pause for Alice as he went to get the pizza. Alice was still recovering from the exhilaration of the past few songs, overwhelmed with the crowd-like effect of the cheesy-Jukebox mashups that introduced Christian to that infamous dancehall, the gratuitous use of slow-mo effects, and the ridiculous use of that Can-Can. It was "Spectacular Spectacular" indeed!

Alice almost choked on her pizza during the Like A Virgin scene. It was also very clear to her, as they watched, that Ted must've forgotten a lot of what had happened in the film given some of his reactions. Ted cursed The Duke repeatedly, particularly at that scene when he found out about the true nature of Christian's play.

Ted believed that he should've seen Satine dying coming. He saw this movie before. The movie literally said so right at the start!

Why, as he watched, did he want that happy ending when the opposite was inevitably going to happen?!

Something about Satine charmed Ted, in a particularly nightmarish way. The idea of further thinking about it was repressed repeatedly, refusing to confront the roots of it all. Surely it was just him being a horny bastard, right? Right?

This totally had nothing to do with the fact that Satine had vibrant red hair, cerulean eyes, polished milky skin, and a beautiful figure.

This totally had nothing to do with how familiar this fictional character seemed to be, resembling someone Ted remembered with intense, bittersweet longing.

This totally had nothing to do with the sight of Satine breathing her last breath on a bed of roses reminding Ted of a memory that he swore hadn't happened yet.

Or it did happen?

Why debate when it happened when it shouldn't have happened at all? It wasn't supposed to happen, whatever that thing was that Ted didn't need to remember at the moment. And yet...

She didn't make a sound. Heartbreak was never so loud.

Alice's sniffling brought Ted back to reality. Ted put a hand on her shoulder.

"God, I-I look so stupid," Alice chuckled out from her tears, rubbing her teary eyes, "they literally say it in the beginning, ugh!"

Ted coddled her closer to him so he could hug her but Alice recoiled back.

"T-Thanks, but we both smell like pizza," Ted nodded back in response.

As he cleaned up the living area, he asked Alice, "How was the movie?"

"It was pretty cheesy," She pulled out her phone again, inspired to write, "but kinda fun? Like, you don't get fun movies with this much energy, at least, when I try to compare, well. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Ted replied absent-mindedly, "It certainly brings back memories of, well,  certain times."

"I think it kinda comes off as an epic-like piece,"

"No need to wax academic, Alice,"

"You asked for it!"

"I asked about how it was, not for an essay about its themes and shit!" Ted straightened himself up with a chuckle, "It's just a movie, after all."

"It hits different though," She spat back, focused now on her phone.

Witchwood Oven Shop pizzas were notably heavier on the stomach compared to their competitors. Any leftover pizza the two had for lunch that day, Ted proceeded to reheat for dinner. He scavenged his refrigerator for any packs of instant lemonade, which were thankfully there, and prepared two glasses for the two of them.

It was a shitty excuse for dinner, but Alice didn't seem to mind. She was very concentrated on her phone.

"What'cha writing about?"

Alice tilted her phone as to hide it, "It's not really much yet. It's all a bunch of prompts so far."

"You can pitch me stuff," He swallowed a bite, "Which ones really get to you?"

"Well," She hesitated.

"Well?"

"I-I've got a traveling adventure in a fancy, cultured but mysterious new town..."

"Anything else?"

"Still deciding whether I should make it a horror or a comedy. Besides that, it's all gonna rest on a foundation of romance between our main character, and, well..."

"Who?"

"I don't know! It's all I got so far!"

"Hey, it's not bad," Ted sipped his lemonade, "You know, I bet with enough time, it can become something really fucking great. I'd be invested if this was a movie or a staged production of sorts, I don't know,"

"Y-You think it's good, Mr. Spankoffski?"

"Oh hell yeah," He placed the glass down, "Not to be cheesy, but romance really gets me."

"Yeah, same."

"Have you considered making it some sort of horror-comedy romance? I would love it if you could pull it off."

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day 20

Notes: While looking at some Greek Myths/Ovid, I read the stories of Perseus and Medusa. I decided to change it up a little. Bear in mind, I’ve taken A LOT of liberties with this story. I also want to turn this into a long-form fic, but we’ll see (I have many ideas… it’s a problem). Title and lyrics are adapted (had to add words because Greek is funny like that) /translated from the song “Den Eho Matia Gi’Alli” by Thanos Petrelis. 

Final note, happy birthday to my husband, who’s been encouraging me to write again and who helped me with the song’s translation. 

I gotta go now and do my annual Christmas cookie baking (10 different kinds of cookies, Morgana help me).

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the continued writing support and beta-reads and for listening to my wild plots and ideas. I value your input and friendship immensely. 

TW: Involuntary movement, depictions of pain.

Day 20 Prompt: FairyTale/Myth Retelling

Title: Den Eho Matia Gi’Allo - I have Eyes for No Other Boy

________________________________________________________________

I have eyes for no other [boy], I’ve told you. The beginning, the middle, the end: You are [my] all. [My] ocean; [My] earth and [my] heaven to. 

BASIL

It is a long walk to get to the Holy Temple of Athena. It is on the outskirts of the city. I do not mind the walk, for it is an honour to serve the goddess, as my mother had, and as many of my ancestors had before her.

It is said that the Pitch family had been blessed by Athena generations ago. One of my ancestors once offered the goddess shelter during a great storm, while the goddess was disguised. The story was that she had been turned away at every corner, except at the home of Vasilios Pitch (whom I was named for). Because of his wisdom and generosity, Athena decreed that every first born from his line would be blessed with wisdom. A sure sign of this gift lay in our famous grey eyes; Athena’s grey eyes of wisdom. Vasilios had been given these eyes as a token of the goddess’ favor, and all of his descendants possessed them as well, including my mother, and myself.

I slowly make my way down the paved road, satchel in hand. The satchel is full of offerings, as well as texts that I wish to read while in the temple. I had been chosen, almost a year ago, to resume the duties of caring for the Temple as well as maintaining the cultural festivities associated with the goddess of wisdom. Today’s duties include sweeping the floors, cleaning the altar of any offerings, and lighting the lanterns that grace the corridors of the Temple. 

I adjust my heavy chiton (I am always freezing, despite the warm climate of my island) and hurry closer to the Temple. I am eager to begin my duties. I am ashamed to admit that I had not been inside the Temple for a few days. This was on an account of my drive to pursue philosophical knowledge. My family is blessed with wisdom, so why shouldn’t I try to obtain as much as I can? I do feel guilty about neglecting my duties, but I will make it up to the goddess. I shall remain within the Temple for the following week. My dear friend, Simon, is planning on visiting me in order to bring me some light nourishment to last the week. He is always concerned for me, and whether I ate enough. I had convinced him to spend some time with me during his visits. I always cherish the time we spend together. Almost as much as I cherish Simon, himself. 

I know something terrible has happened as I arrive at the Temple’s entrance. The lanterns are shattered on the ground, the offerings to Athena are strewn all over the floor. Mud has been thrown upon her sacred altar. Worse of all, the sacred statue of Athena is completely desecrated. It is imperative that the Holy goddess remain clothed at all times, but this statue is completely naked. 

I drop my satchel in shock and fall to my knees. Who could have done such a thing!? Why would anyone risk the goddess’ wrath? 

I run my fingers through my hair in despair. I should have been here! I should have prevented this from happening! I had one duty that stood above all others. Protect the Temple. Protect the goddess’ dignity. I had failed. I failed and I know exactly what is about to happen. The stormy-eyed goddess does not take personal insults lightly. 

As if on cue, I hear the distinct “hoot-hoot” of an owl behind me. I take a deep breath and stand up gracefully. With a bowed head, I turn to face the owl; to face my punishment. The owl screeches at me and dives towards me, talons outstretched. I throw myself to the floor, to avoid being hurt, as the owl lands on the goddess’ statue. I watch in wonder and horror as the owl begins to glow and melt onto the marble. A white-hot blaze envelopes the statue, so hot that I have to shield my eyes. From the flames steps Athena herself, fully clothed, with the owl perched on her shoulder. She has a sword in her hand, and a shield on her back. I stare at her in admiration and awe. Athena shoots out a hand towards me, her voice, while calm, sends a boom throughout the Temple. 

“You will stand and show respect to Pallas Athena!”  

Compelled by the supernatural force of the furious deity, my body shoots straight up. My head involuntarily strains to match my grey eyes with those of the goddess. I can feel the force tugging at my heart, coercing me towards Athena. She grips my face in her celestial hand. I can feel the heat radiating off of her. I feel tears beginning to well in my eyes.

“You betrayed me.” She speaks in such a calm voice. I feel my stomach freezing over. Athena keeps an iron-hard grip on my face. Even if I could move away from her, I do not want to for I am at fault for this. 

Instead, I whisper, “I am sorry.”

“You have destroyed my Temple.” Her eyes start to peer down at me. They bear into my own eyes, and I can swear she is staring right into my soul. 

“No… no I-”

“SILENCE! By giving into your hubris, Basil, you’ve neglected your duties! My Temple is destroyed! My image defiled!” Athena gives me a look of disgust. It is enough for me to fall further into remorse. I can no longer prevent the soft tears from falling down my face. 

“Forgive me, goddess.” I beg her. Athena simply shakes her head. She releases me from her grip and I crumple onto the floor. Athena kneels down in front of me and places her hand on top of my head. 

“You will have to be punished. I have given your family the great gift of my wisdom and you have spat on it.” A bright light erupts from the palm of her hand. It completely engulfs me. As the light surrounds me, I begin to feel an icy-cold sensation spreading over my body. I begin to convulse, pain shooting across all my limbs. I start gasping for air, squeezing my hands shut. 

Athena holds still and proceeds.

“You are hereby banished from this island. Your new form will live amongst others like your kind.” I start to scream as I feel my body beginning its metamorphosis. My hair, once long, soft, and raven-black becomes a tangled mess of hissing, slithering snakes. They begin to bite and nab at each other, tugging painfully at my skull. My skin, normally a beautiful, shimmering reddish-copper tone, loses all its colour and lustre. I become pallid and grey, patches of tiny charcoal-coloured scales spread over my body. My teeth begin to sharpen and elongate, filling my mouth. The pain is agonizing, and I pray for it to stop, but the ill-tempered goddess is not yet finished.

“You will no longer be able to cast your eyes upon another human. To gaze at you will be their undoing.” Athena places her hand over my eyes and my vision began to cloud. All colours escape me, replaced by greys and blacks. My eyes, once a mesmerizing sea-grey colour, now turn a sickly yellow, mimicking those of a basilisk. With the energy of my transformation still vibrating over my body, I start to heave, clutching at my chest. Athena moves her hand to my chin and holds it tight, forcing me to look at her. She finishes off the remainder of her curse. 

”Many will try to kill you, they shall not succeed, until the very last one. The one you love the most. He shall kill you or he shall save you. This is my punishment for you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” A searing white-hot pain consumes me and I feel myself slipping into darkness. Athena’s livid grey eyes are the last thing I see before I let go.

______

FIVE YEARS LATER

SIMON

“I have accomplished every task you have asked of me. You owe me your sacred sword!” I point an accusing finger at the aging king before me. I feel my curly hair shake with every movement. 

I have been endlessly travelling across practically every Hellenic island. My travels have brought me to the island of Seriphos and to the court of King Polydectes. I’ve come here in order to obtain a sacred sword crafted by father Zeus himself. It is unlike any other sword in existence. It is crafted out of unbreakable material, adamantine. If I have the sword, it will be the final piece to my armour. I need that sword if I want to find my friend, the friend I’ve dreamt about every night.

I’ve been on this quest for almost five years. Ever since I arrived to the Temple of Athena on the outskirts of my village to find the Temple destroyed and Basil missing. The only clue that indicated that Basil had even been to the Temple was his disturbed satchel on the ground. It’s the very same satchel that I now carry with me wherever I go. It’s my only connection to Basil, until I find him and bring him home. 

The king rubs his long snowy-white beard and furrows his eyebrows. He snaps his fingers at one of his attendants. “Bring me my sacred harpe sword”. He then looks directly at me. 

“You may be a mighty fine warrior and hero Mister Snow, but your arrogance will be the death of you. You may have my sword, but after completing one final task.”

I growl. I’m tired of being constantly tested! Have I not proven myself time and time again that I am a worthy warrior? I’m tired of wasting time. I may know that Basil is still alive, but the more time I waste completing these ridiculous tasks, the more time Basil is left on his own. I take a deep breath and pull my shoulders back. 

“Fine. what task would you have me complete this time?” I demand. The old king gives me a sly smile. It sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever task Polydectes has for me, it won’t be an easy one. The king places his hands together and explains his problem.

“As you know, Mister Snow, my city has been engaged in a small war with the neighbouring island for quite some time. My people are tired of the blood and the loss of life. They want this war over, and they want it over quickly.”

“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, arms crossed over my chest.

“Legend has it, that a creature exists in one of the caves at the far end of the island. The sailors who frequent the island call it the Cave of the Gorgons.”

My mouth gapes open. The old man was finally starting to go batty. The Gorgons were legendary monsters. They were nearly impossible to kill, being that they were demi-gods. The king was about to send me on a suicide mission. 

“Gorgons? You want me to kill a Gorgon? That’s impossible!”

I decide, at that moment, that I am through with Polydectes and his nonsense. I would find some other way to find Basil. I turn on my heels and am about to walk out of the throne room when I hear the calm, arrogant voice of the king behind me.

“Not if one is mortal.” 

I stop dead in my tracks. I slowly turn back to the king. I stare at him in confusion. I have never heard of a mortal Gorgon before. I wonder what unfortunate turn of events caused that anomaly to occur. Now, this is interesting. 

“Mortal?”

The king raises an eyebrow at me, and I hate it. It reminds me too much of Basil. Polydectes rises from his throne and steps towards me. 

“Legends say that one of the Gorgons is mortal. This one in particular supposedly has the power to turn whole armies into stone with a glance. I have sent warrior after warrior to fetch me the head of the beast, but none have returned.”

And there it is. So it is a suicide mission after all. 

“And you expect me to be able to accomplish what others more skilled than myself have been unable to do?”

Polydectes shakes his head and laughs. I shudder as the king speaks. “You do have an edge over the others before you, Mister Snow.”

A long crooked finger points at the items on my person. Aside from Basil’s satchel, I have also obtained other divine items. Items that have aided me throughout my many trials and tribulations. 

The first is the shield I carry on my back. It’s the only other item I found within the Temple. I don’t know where it came from, nor who it belonged to, but it was made of a perfectly polished steel. To look upon it was akin to looking at your reflection in a mirror. 

When I began my quest, I first needed to know if Basil was still alive, or if he had crossed over into the Underworld. In order to do this, I needed to find the Underworld’s entrance. To do that, I required the help of Hermes, messenger to the gods of Olympus. He was the only one who could travel freely between Mount Olympus, Earth, and the Underworld. 

It was not easy to get the lively god to pay attention to me. I had spent two years chasing the trickster god. Hermes would not help me at first, stating that to help me would be go against one much more powerful and vengeful. As Hermes took flight, I had grabbed onto one of his winged shoes. As much as Hermes tried to shake me off, I was relentless. Eventually, the winged-god surrendered. He told me that he’d admired my tenacity. So he offered me his Winged Sandals, as well as directions on how to enter the land of the dead. I would have to ask Hades himself if Basil was there. 

It took me almost another full year to reach the River Styx, even with the aid of the Winged Sandals. From there, I made my way to the court of Lord Hades and Lady Persephone. It had not been easy, and I still have the scars I obtained from my fight with Cerberus. But I made it. Frustratingly, Hades had no time for me and refused to even listen to my story. Persephone, on the other hand, had been more gentle. She told me that she would help me find my lost love. 

I had tried to argue with the Queen of the Underworld. Basil was my best friend. He was like a brother to me. We had grown up together, we protected each other, and we would always be there for one another, through anything and everything. But I didn’t love him. And besides, even if I did, Basil was far above in status to me. He would never be interested in me. 

Persephone was not convinced, but she still offered her help. She had confirmed that Basil was indeed still alive, but that he was balancing on a dangerous thread between his humanity and the demons that plagued him. When I asked her what she meant, Persephone refused to clarify, saying that I needed to figure that out for myself. Before I left, Persephone offered her husband’s Helm of Invisibility, as well as the recommendation that I seek out King Polydectes on the island of Seriphos. There, I could find a blade that would help me rescue Basil. She also left me a warning: “Everything is not what it seems Simon. Remember to look before you strike.” 

I didn’t think much of it as I left the Realm of the Dead. While I am typically the type of warrior to dive into a fight without a second thought, I always make sure my swings are powerful and sure. Besides, I had to focus on my next destination; The island of Seriphos. 

It was on this island where I remained for the next two years, fulfilling task after task in order to obtain this blasted sword. It was the final piece I was missing. If all it took was to kill one mortal Gorgon, I would do it. Deep down I know that even if I have to kill a million Gorgons, I would do it for Basil. No questions or reservations about it. 

I look back to the wrinkled king before me. I stick out my chin, determination apparent over my face. I hold out my hand to the king, ready to shake on the deal. Polydectes smiles at me and grabs my hand. 

“Excellent.” The servant arrives right on time. They are carrying what looks like a sword, but it has a small hook-like protrusion at around the midpoint of the blade. The material was unlike any other that I have seen. Polydectes takes the sword from the servant and offers it to me. 

The sword feels so light in my hands. It’s perfectly balanced and fits perfectly in my grasp. It’s as if the hilt of the sword shifts to match its yielder. The blade gleams in the light of the palace. It’s mesmerizing to say the least. 

“This sword, as you know, was crafted by Hephaestus himself for Zeus. Father Zeus bequeathed this sword to my grandfather, and it has remained in my family since then. Bring me the head of the Gorgon, and the sword shall be yours.”

I remove my own sword from its sheath. It has served me well over the last five years, but I need to offer it up as some sort of collateral. I offer it to Polydectes. He nods as the servant takes the sword. I sheath my brand new weapon and back away from the king. 

The Gorgons’ cave lay on the Southwestern part of the island. I do not feel the need to pack many provisions, considering the short distance to the caves. I pack enough food for a few days and set off on yet another journey.

The entrance to the cave is wide and intimidating. I peer inside, but there isn’t much to behold, save for a rows of torches on either side. Before stepping inside, I remember to take off my shield. If the Gorgon’s eyes could turn a man into stone, I would have to be extra prudent while exploring. I strap the shield to my forearm, and proceed forward, eyes glued to the reflection. 

As I wander deeper, I find myself completely surrounded by perfect stone statues. Each statue created with a look or horror and agony. My heart nearly stops as I think about the final moments of these unfortunate men. I think about the fear and possible agony these heroes must have felt. That is enough to convince that I may be in way over my head.  

I carry on. Grey eyes, and a sparkling smile fill my thoughts. For Basil. I have to do this for Basil. 

Before proceeding further, I extract the Helm of Invisibility from the satchel. A cold shiver travels down my spine as I place it on my head and disappear. I don’t want this monster sneaking up on me. 

Closer and closer, I know the beast is near-at-hand. I can feel it. There is a light thrum in the air, as if I was meant to be here. I write it off as the work of whatever supernatural deity was responsible for creating the Gorgon. 

Finally, I see it. In the corner of the reflection of my shield, I notice a pair of long sickly grey legs. They are covered in dark scaly patches. 

Finally, this was it. 

I creep closer and closer. The legs lead up to a torso, slowly rising and falling. He’s asleep. Good. This should be easy.

Closer and closer. The torso transitions to a long graceful neck. 

The creature’s face is more grotesque than I could ever imagine. While his mouth was closed, I can see a few sharp, long teeth sticking out. The grey scales nearly cover his face in patches, but it was the Gorgon’s hair that causes me to tightly grip the hilt of my sword. Dozens of sleeping snakes cover the beast’s head. 

I pull out my sword and raise it high above my head. One strike and I’ll be that much closer to Basil. Before bringing the blade down, I hear a loud voice in my head:

Look before you strike, Simon! Everything is not what it seems!

I stop just as the blade is about to behead the sleeping monster. I pull my sword back and take another closer look at the peaceful figure.

This isn’t a monster. 

It certainly looks like a monster, but something about the way he sleeps, soft eyelashes cascading past his gentle lids, tells me that this beast is more than what he seems. The shape of his face; the sharp edges that I never thought I’d see again. This was the same face that I could not stop dreaming about, and wishing I could feel again. I think back to those beautiful grey eyes, and the wide sparkling smile.

Can it… can it be? It… it can’t be... No...  

The realization hits me with a force of thousand bricks. Finally, I’ve found him! I drop the sword and gasp out. 

“Basil?!”

_____

BASIL

I hear something clattering that rouses me from my sleep. My eyes burst open and I leap to my feet. Another warrior sent to kill me? Honestly, I cannot find it in myself to care anymore. At this point I am about to offer up my head willingly. 

I am tired. Five years of colourless, hopeless existence, is enough to drive me to near madness. I have begun to wish that someone would take me out of my misery. I have even stopped trying to fight the warriors that came to defeat me. But bloody hell, were they ever so useless and thick! I have been able to petrify them without even trying or meaning to. The more innocent men I killed, the more I felt like a monster. 

I started to sleep more. If I was sleeping, and my eyes were closed, I couldn’t kill anyone. But not even that worked! These warriors were so brutish and clumsy, that I often woke just before they killed me. So I’ve hidden myself deeper and deeper in my cave, hoping that someone would relieve me of my miserable life.

 The goddess’ curse has been a cruel one, but one that I felt I deserved. I have had five years to think about the mistakes I made in my short life, and the regrets that I still carried with me. Only one thought gave me a tiny morsel of hope. A tiny morsel of hope that I clung onto when the days grew darker and colder. 

The one you love the most. He shall kill you or he shall save you.

Amidst my world of grey and black, I held onto the image of blue eyes and bronze curls. The blue eyes and bronze curls of my childhood friend. My companion during my life. The person that I am convinced I love dearly. The one I love the most. 

Simon. 

Simon will be the one to kill me and I will love him from beyond this mortal coil, from wherever my soul should end up; Whether it be Tartarus or The Underworld. All I hoped for, was to be able to see him one more time before I meet my doom. Hopefully from a distance, so that I could not harm him. Then, after seeing Simon one last time, I will shut my eyes and approach him, with a bowed head. 

For now, I have to deal with yet another idiot who could not even kill a sleeping monster. I look around, but see no man in my midst. I sigh heavily and slowly carry myself towards my hall of fallen heroes (it’s what I call the petrified statues inside my cave). I call out in a bored, lethargic voice.

“If I were you, I would leave while you are still alive. As you can see, no one has managed to kill me yet. Save yourself. Whatever prize is being offered to you is simply not worth it.” 

I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat to my right. I close my eyes and turn my head. The person who had cleared their throat begins to talk.

“I have blindfolded myself. My sword is on the ground. I wish to talk to you. I’m stepping out.”

I cautiously open my eyes to see a young man stepping out from behind one of the frozen soldiers. As promised, he was blindfolded and unarmed. I furrow my brows and cross my arms. “I do not wish to talk. I wish for you to leave me be.”

“Just answer me one question. One question and I’ll leave you alone.” I choke out a half-laugh and a half sigh. But, I relent. I have nothing else better to do today.  

“One question.”

“Do you remember me, Basil?” I feel the blood in my veins stop cold. No one has referred to me by my real name in years. The sudden change in my emotions causes the snakes to become unsettled. A few already have begun to pull at my skull. 

“What?” I ask, I am unsure if I truly want the answer. 

“Do you remember how we played as children? How you would relentlessly insult me?” The young man starts to step closer to me. The snakes in my hair continue to hiss and thrash wildly. I try to calm them down, but they sometimes have a mind of their own, and my feelings are linked to theirs. I want to back away, but I am frozen in place. The young man reaches blindly for my hand, I tentatively move my hand  out and gently touch his. It’s warm. So very warm. And rough, he’s done a lot of fighting it seems. He asks another question.

“Do you remember how I would bring you food whenever you spent too much time in the library?” I start to lose my breath as the man gently cups my cheek in his hand. A shiver runs down my spine and I feel goosebumps on my scaled arms. It’s been too long since I felt another gentle touch. Too long since I have felt him. 

Is it really him? 

The snakes have started to calm down. They know he is supposed to be here. I lean into his touch, tears brimming my eyes. I nod slightly. He continues. He speaks softly, almost whispering.

“Do you remember how I promised I would never abandon you? How you promised you would never abandon me either, even when you were chosen to serve Athena? Do you remember me, Basil?” His voice cracks a little at the end. But I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s here. After so long. I nod at him. He reaches with his other hand and gently holds my face in his hands. He presses his forehead to my own. I place my hands over his.

“Simon…” I breathe out. 

I want to say more, but I feel soft lips on my own. I close my eyes and lean into his kiss. It feels so good, so right. I feel his warmth spreading all over my body and I sigh into him. I pray to the gods above that my teeth do not hurt him. I can feel the tears spilling down my face. I have missed him. His face, his hands, his smile, his eyes. Gods, have I missed him. 

Simon keeps kissing me and caressing my face. My heart breaks for I know he has to kill me soon. For a few seconds more, I want to enjoy this. I want to remain here with Simon forever. I never want to let him go. 

I love him. I’ve always loved him. 

Simon breaks the kiss and gently rubs his thumbs over my eyelids. I am so scared to open my eyes. I don’t want to risk his blindfold falling, or for Simon to tempt fate and look at me. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. It’s gotten so much longer, but it still feels so soft and bounces softly through my fingers. He takes my hands in his and plants a soft kiss on my knuckles. He rests his forehead on mine. 

“I have you, Basil. I am never letting you go again.” He is holding so tightly to me, I almost believe him.

I am so entranced, that I do not notice that my snakes have stopped tugging wildly at my head. I do not notice that the teeth in my mouth have started to change. I still refuse to open my eyes. It can’t be real. It isn’t real. Simon reaches up and tempts fate. I feel the fabric of his blindfold fall away. I keep my eyes shut. I hear him gasp. 

“I know… I know… Look away from me.” I violently bow my head down and try to turn away from him. I am so ashamed, I cannot bear to have him look at me like this. Like a monster. But Simon, bless the idiot, pulls me back and lifts my chin towards him. 

“No… no Basil! Your skin. It’s not grey or scaly anymore! The snakes are gone! You look like yourself again. Basil, love, open your eyes. You’re alright.” I shake my head wildly. Simon is running his hand down my face, wiping the tears that will not stop falling. 

“I’ll kill you. Simon, I’ll kill you if I open them. I’d rather die.” I croak out. I can handle years of solitude and loneliness. I can handle being responsible for the ruination of my city’s temple. I can even handle the shame I’ve brought upon my family. I can handle all of it, because I know that Simon is alive. Simon is alive. If he were to die... If he were to die, I would soon follow him. 

Simon pulls my head closer to him. I feel kisses on both of my eyelids. His fingers are softly combing my hair back. His other hand has travelled to my hand and has gripped it. His thumb is running across my knuckles. He whispers to me. 

“Basil… open your eyes. I’ve dreamt of seeing your stormy greys again for five years. Please, let me see them.”

“And if I kill you?”

“You won’t. I promise, you won’t”

I bow my head down and slowly open my eyes. I can see the dark ground. I think I see specks of browns and greens, but I must be imagining it. Simon is still holding my hand, still running his fingers through my hair. 

“Keep going, love.” He murmurs. I take a deep breath and start to raise my head, I let out a small whimper, because I can see the browns and golds of Simon’s sandals. They also have tiny silver wings at the back. I refuse to believe that this is happening. It was not supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to kill me, not save me. 

I take the risk and raise my head a little further. His tawny skin is shining among the many lit torches. Tiny brown freckles crowd his arms, and a constellation of moles dot his body. I place my hand on his chest. 

My hand! It’s back to the copper colour it used to be! Simon starts to laugh with joy. He places his hand beneath my chin. 

“Basil, may I?” I nod.

He lifts my face to meet his. After five long years, I see his blue eyes. Blue eyes that, to anyone else, would seem absolutely normal. But to me, to me, they’re the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. I see them beginning to become cloudy. I start to panic, but see that they’re cloudy because tears started to fall. He starts to laugh. He looks at me adoringly. 

“You’re beautiful”. He says as he kisses me again. 

Aphrodite in heaven, I’m living a charmed life. 

[You brought] Sound and picture, music and colour, in my black and white silence. It was my good luck that I found you [love]. That I met you in this life.

[taciturnrebel]

drabble  :  1620 word count.   @niflim​   &   @saigeonmain​

I knew from the moment my mother saw the mako-blue in his eyes, she would disapprove, she would hate him regardless of my feelings or his. The shock on her face upon seeing him sat in our kitchen tonight was quick to elevate to anger. And I could see her fingers twitch, wanting to reach for the shotgun hidden in a cupboard nearby to rid herself and us from that which she saw as a living abomination in the world. Fortunately, Cloud picks up on the sudden tenseness in the room and excuses himself to wait outside. He probably saved himself a maiming as well as me having to ask him to leave, something I really did not want to do. I want him here. I want her to want him here, but I know far too well that is not going to happen anytime soon, maybe never.

For a long time, mom stares at our backdoor with the same steely gaze I too had inherited from her. If looks could conjure spears of ice and send them through that door to murder my boyfriend, I don’t think she would hesitate. “Why was that SOLDIER here? Did he hurt you?!” Her attention finally turns to me, and much to my grief, she had not picked up on why he was here, which means I’ll have to tell her myself. Wonderful. She fusses over me as if I were still a child, checking for injuries or any sign of mistreatment, ignoring my protests as I try to avoid those maternal hands.

“Speak to me, Squall. Tell me.” She asks, impatience quick to slip into her voice. This is gonna get rough, she’s already at full anger.

“No, I’m fine. And Cloud isn’t with SOLDIER anymore.” He never really was, but I can’t explain that all right now. Too headachey.

“What? I don’t understand. Why is he here then? Why is my son talking to any product of Shinra?!”

It’s almost like she’s forgotten that I worked for Shinra, even if it was for the benefit of finding her husband. I wish dad were here right now because I know already that he would like Cloud, so would sis, but they’re miles away in Wutai setting up the house while mom closes a deal on our property here. I guess having her husband back hadn’t softened her as much as I would have liked.

“Mom don’t talk about him like that. He’s a person, not a thing.”

“No, Squall. They were human once upon a time ago. But once Shinra puts all that crap in them, they become something else, something inhuman.”

“Oh right, because you know so many former SOLDIER, huh? Cloud is kind…most of the time, he just tends to come off as a bit of an ass sometimes.”

“Wait, so you’ve seen…spent time with him before?” Shit. For a woman so on the ball with everything else, I’m surprised she’s so oblivious to what’s going on here. I’m really just going to have to lay this out for her and hope for a best-case scenario, of which there is none.

“Yeah, I’ve known Cloud for a while now. We’re….uhh, sort of dating, well, not sort of dating, he’s my boyfriend, mom.”  Suddenly, it feels like meteor fall over again. A darkness pierces the place that had been our home for ten years, and I can see the blood drain from my mother’s face in sheer horror, and I can see her reliving the past where we had once been the prey of SOLDIER. I don’t remember that time well, but thinking back on it as I got older and then now, she had been on constant guard, snappy, and she wouldn’t let Elle or me out of her sight for even a minute. SOLDIER frightened her then, they frighten her now too. I can’t blame her either. “Mom, it’s okay. Cloud isn’t like those guys that came after us back then. If you just got to know him, you would see that. May---”

“Why are you doing this, Squall?” She asks, accusation rising in her tone as if I had committed a terrible crime rather than fall in love.

“I’m…I’m not doing anything, it just happened.”

“It doesn’t just happ---there will be plenty of suitable women and men for you in Wutai, son. They will know and understand you better than a lab rat ever could. You get along so well with Yuffie, wouldn’t she make a great girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” I’m trying to keep my composure as she picks and chooses partners for me that aren’t the one I want, but it’s hard. I had known for years that she would prefer for me to be with someone of our ethnicity because it’s safer, there won’t be any prejudice in Wutai if I were with someone from Wutai. That doesn’t matter to me though, I know for the first time in my life who I want for me, that’s never happened before. “You can’t just expect me to up and forget about him because that’s what you want! I’m happy, doesn’t that count for anything in your narrow-minded little world?”

Facing down her stare is worse than facing down any kind of blade. Is that how I look to people? I just called her narrow-minded, and I’m getting nothing in return which can only mean she’s beyond the point of any normal anger. I can only imagine what Cloud must be thinking about this right now unless he’s already decided to run away. I would if my boyfriend’s mother referred to me as a thing rather than a person. What if this scares him off for good? One of the few positives in my life and she might be about to ruin it.

“I’m going to keep seeing him whether you like it or not. This is my life, and he’s what makes me happy, isn’t that what you want for me?”

“Are you sleeping with him?” I’m certain my jaws drops open as those words leave my mom’s lips. If she hadn’t already made me uncomfortable before, I definitely was now.

“W—What?”

“I asked if you’re having sex with him, Squall.” I suddenly do not appreciate how blunt I can be at times when I hear it from her.

“That’s none of your business. I’m twenty years old.”

“Are you using protection?”

“It’s none of yo---”

“It is my business, Squall Leonhart! You are my son, and god knows what he might be passing on to you from the tube he crawled out of.” I’m stunned, my horror surely matching her own from earlier. I know she’s not that ignorant, she’s just trying to scare me and make me end this relationship, but that won’t work. If she only knew who had been here before Cloud was in my life, her opinion might swiftly change. He’s not perfect, and I never asked for perfect, he’s flawed like everyone else, like me. Maybe now she will realise I’m not her perfect little baby boy anymore, stars know she needs to.

“You need to stop seeing that man now before things end badly. Those SOLDIER people aren’t capable of love.” How little she knows, but I will not divulge the details of Aerith to her. That wound still hasn’t healed on either of us.

“No, I won’t.” I reply the iron will in my tone unshakeable this time. I’m not going to let anyone’s fear take this away from me, not even hers, and I need her to see that. “I love him.”

The mask cracks, her steel tears like a piece of paper, now she knows this is serious. Hands press to her face in despair for this is something that can’t be controlled, she can’t stop my heart from wanting what it wants, neither can I. “I can’t approve of this, Squall. There is a monster in his heart, a darkness in his soul from what Shinra has done to him. And I truly believe he will hurt you at the end of it all.” The mother I know is back who speaks only with loving concern, not from malice. But she still fails to realise that Cloud isn’t the only person capable of causing pain. Maybe I’ll break his heart one day.

“There’s no monster or darkness in him…he’s just, he’s Cloud, a little lost, sad, and he pretends to be a lot cooler than he really is. Maybe we have those things in common.” I can tell she still doesn’t want to hear the opposite of what she believes to be true, her lips purse into a tight line, but at least she isn’t trying to fight me on it anymore, not today anyway. “I’m gonna go stay with Cloud tonight, let you cool off. I’ll even give you the house address if it really worries you so much. But I promise mom, I’m not making a mistake with him.” I stand to leave, the old wooden chair scraping across floor tiles. Hopefully, he’s still outside waiting for me, Cloud isn’t the type to abandon someone he cares about.

As I shrug on my jacket, mom appears silently at my side. I’ve never understood how she managed to do that, but I cease contemplating it when she pulls me into a hug, I hug her back tighter than I usually might to show what can’t be said right now. Even if two hearts eventually end up broken at the end of the day, if myself and Cloud hurt one another, there will always be her love for me to fall back on even if she sometimes shows it in brutal ways.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Two: An Open Magazine ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina, death, cancer ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

This has to be one of the worst days of her life.

It all started with a phone call from her father. Her aunt - his deceased brother’s wife - had lost her battle with cancer and passed away overnight. As devastating as it was, she knew Neji would be taking his mother’s loss far harder. Now without either of his parents, he’s an orphan. Grown, sure...but a lost parent makes anyone feel like a lost child. Hinata hadn’t lost a family member since her mother when Hanabi was born, so...she couldn’t quite understand that loss now. But even so, the news received at ten past seven in the morning was how her day started...and it just didn’t let up.

Deciding to head into the city to be with her cousin and family, Hinata quickly got out of bed. Her morning routine of checking her phone showed the now-typical barrage of negative news on Twitter, only further degrading her mood. She tripped over her roomba and dropped her breakfast all over the floor. And as if having sensed the impending negativity, her plants along her tiny apartment balcony looked a bit withered and sick.

Wonderful.

Touching them up with some water and fertilizer, she hoped they’d last until she got home...probably pretty late. Otherwise, she didn’t have time to try her hand again at breakfast, and looking up what might be wilting her beauties would have to wait.

Pulling on her favorite white and lilac jacket, she’d scooped up her keys, shouldered her purse, and made her way out of the apartment to the garage below and her waiting car.

Born and raised in one of the large coastal cities, Hinata had abandoned it come adulthood. There were too many tearing memories to stay, and as much as she loved her hometown...the smog, the crowds, and the crime was enough for her to pack up and move to another smaller, quieter, it not more boring town two hours inland. Sure, she isn’t getting as much business as she might in the big city with her architectural degree, but to her...the peace and quiet are worth it.

But the rest of the Hyūga family remained in town, hence her needing to return. Her father’s tech repair business is rooted there, Hanabi is finishing up school, and Neji has his law career. His mother had been retired on her husband’s life insurance, but...well, no one is immune to medical bills. They’d all been chipping in, hoping she’d pull through.

Fate, however, isn’t swayed by human wishes.

The entire ride was done in silence, Hinata too full of sorrow to abide the radio or her mp3 player. It just felt wrong to break the quiet in the wake of her mourning. Instead, she wordlessly went over memories of her aunt in her mind. Most were happy...some not so much. But they brought her a small amount of comfort, knowing that her aunt had gotten to live a fairly full life, all things considered...with plenty of happy moments. Perhaps less so the past few years, but...they have to count their blessings.

...but that’s when it happened.

Eyes almost zoned out, Hinata snapped to attention at a loud bang, the entire car jolting and making her scream in surprise. Slamming on the brakes, she thankfully kept the car straight and upright, pressed back into her seat with a hammering heart and empty lungs.

...what the hell?!

Sitting and listening as the car sat idling, she tried to identify any other sounds, but...nothing. Only once a full minute passed with nothing else did she gingerly undo her seatbelt, hands shaking as she got herself out of the car, intending to check under the hood.

...but she quickly realized that wasn’t the problem.

The car jostled a bit more than usual when she stepped out, and a glance showed the now-bare rim of her front driver’s side wheel.

...her tire...exploded.

Gaping at it, she looked back, seeing the shreds of the tire then scattered all over the roadway. It...it…? Holy shit! Did she run over something? Was it just a faulty tire? Slumping back against her vehicle in both shock and despair (she didn’t have a spare tire...or even a tire iron…), Hinata did her best to stay calm, burying her face in her hands.

...okay. Call her father. Have him send...someone. She’d made it about halfway there, so...an hour to get her, and then an hour back into the city.

...she’d be fine.

Digging out her phone, she powered on the screen, opening up her contacts and selecting Hiashi’s number.

...it didn’t ring.

Drawing a deep breath, she looked to the phone, and saw...no bars. No signal.

Nothing.

Of course. Of course! Now she’ll have to wait for someone to drive by, take pity on her, and hopefully not kidnap her, what with her being out here alone, with no phone, and no way to escape.

Tossing herself back into her car, she put on her flashers...and prepared to wait.

...ten minutes later, we find her staring blandly through the windshield...only to perk up at a noise.

Someone’s coming…!

Gasping, she scrambles out of the car, carefully standing out of the road and waving. It’s some red, fancy sports car she couldn’t begin to tell you the make or model of, given her complete disinterest in cars. But it slows, and she wilts in relief.

Hopefully they’re here to help, and not...hurt.

Pulling up behind her, the vehicle powers off and a man steps out. He looks about her age, flyaway dark hair and even darker eyes making for a rather broody-looking (and admittedly handsome ) face. “...you all right?”

“N-no,” she admits, loosely hugging herself. “My tire, it just…”

“Oh...was that yours all over the road?”

“Y...yeah…”

He walks around to examine the wheel. “...I take it you don’t have a spare?”

“No...I kept meaning to get one, but…”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Take it you’re heading to the coast?”

“Yes, um...long story.”

“Need a lift? Or are you waiting for someone?”

“No, my - my phone has no signal. If you wouldn’t mind, I...would greatly appreciate a ride into town.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Here...let’s get your stuff, pull it off the road, and lock it up.”

Once the car’s situated and properly settled, he holds out a hand. “Name’s Sasuke, by the way.”

The name rings a very distant bell, shaking his grip slowly. “Hinata. Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem.”

Hinata settles sheepishly on the passenger seat. The car smells brand new, impeccably kept and clearly rarely driven. Seems he was out on a joyride when he passed by. The radio powers back up with the engine, but Hinata doesn’t refute it. With her frazzled nerves on top of...everything else, the background noise is actually rather nice.

“What brings you into the big city?” Sasuke asks as he pulls back onto the road.

“Oh, um...m-my aunt passed away last night, so…”

“Oh, shit...I’m sorry.”

“It...it’s fine. We knew it was coming. C-cancer.”

He gives her a somber glance. “...it’s nasty business.”

“...yeah. S-so, um...I wanted to go be with my family. They all live in town, so…”

“And then of course your car dies. When it rains it pours, right?”

“...right. So...I’m s-sure glad you drove by. Today’s been enough of a disaster…”

The rest of the hour passes with conversation, starting idly before slowly getting a bit more personal. Hinata, to her own honest surprise, dives right in despite her reserved nature. Maybe it’s having a distraction after her horror of a morning. Or...maybe she’s just lonely.

...maybe both.

Either way, Sasuke takes her to her cousin’s apartment building, shutting down the car and walking her to the entryway.

“Thank you again. Is...is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Nah, don’t mention it. Besides, you’ve got enough to worry about. I was happy to do it. Hope you can call and get it towed all right.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just...no signal before. I’ve got pretty decent insurance, so…”

“Good. Sorry again about your aunt…”

“...me too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around.” He nods to her phone in her hand, which has his number in it: exchanged during their talks. “Need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you…” Waving, she watches him cross back to the sidewalk where he parked before turning and heading in.

Neji opens the door after a long silence once she knocks, bags under his bloodshot eyes. It’s quite clear he’s been crying.

“Oh, Neji…” Expression crumbling, Hinata quickly embraces him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. “I’m s-so sorry…”

Eventually they retreat inside, Hinata making tea as he sits on the couch, head in his hands. Handing him a cup, she takes a ginger seat beside him, sparing a hand to gently rub at his back. “...did you sleep at all last night?”

“No...no, I was with her, when…”

Her head bows somberly.

“...thank you for coming.”

“Of course! I’d have been here sooner, but...I g-got a flat tire. Caught a ride in.”

Neji’s brow quickly furrows. “...with a stranger?”

“He was fine. Very polite, a-and friendly. Point is, I’m here now. I called the tow truck before I came up, so...it’s being taken into a shop. I’ll be good to drive home later today.”

“...I see. Seems it’s just that sort of day, isn’t it?”

“...yeah.”

The pair fall into a companionable silence, and Hinata lets her eyes wander to the coffee table beyond their knees. A few magazines and envelopes litter the surface, one of the former open to an article about some movie awards show.

...and then she jolts.

That...that’s him! That’s the guy who -?!

Feeling her jump, Neji glances over. “...are you all right?”

“I...t-that…?” She points. “...he’s the one who picked me up!”

“...you’re joking. Sasuke Uchiha?”

“Y-yeah!”

“He’s a pretty big name lately. How did you not recognize him? He’s on that one show, Clan something or other...and they just had some big movie come out. He and his brother were both in it.”

“I...I don’t really w-watch TV…”

“...well, seems you’re making friends in high places,” he can’t help but note dryly. “I suppose there are worse people who could have taken you off the side of the road.”

Hinata just nods slowly, still staring at the picture in disbelief. She...has an actor’s number. Is...is it really okay to just talk to him? Sure, she did on the way in, but that was before she knew who he was! Why didn’t he say anything…?

...well, there’s more pressing issues for the moment. Snapping herself out of it, she clears her throat a bit sheepishly. “...a-anyway...should we go see Dad?”

“...yes, we should. He had a meeting this morning, but...it should be over now. I”ll text him, let him know we’re coming.”

Hinata’s brow furrows in disapproval. Hiashi’s working today…? Really? Well...whatever. So long as he helps out, she can’t get mad. They’re all going have to work through this...but for now, she’s most concerned about Neji. Not her father, or her car, or her new friend.

...that all will have to wait.

                                                              .oOo.

     This is super random (and super depressing OTL) but...it was the first idea that hit me to make the prompt fit ^^; Sorry for the downer piece everybody. I try not to do angst too often...I prefer fluff, lol - or drama.      Anywho! Poor Neji...and poor Hinata. It's always hard losing a loved one, especially to something like a terminal illness. But at least they have each other to rely on. Sasuke takes a bit of a back seat in this one, but...I don't focus on Hinata enough, tbh. Which is odd, given how much I adore her!      But on that note, I'm finally getting to bed a little bit early for once! Woo! lol, thanks for reading guys~

[swishandflickwit]

Jurdan — calling your name in the midnight hour 1/1

(gif not mine)

Summary: Jude learns something important.

jurdan + pregnancy headcanon

Words: 3.2k

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major The Wicked King spoilers. Read at your own risk! Also mentions abortion.

AN: Title from the song Here With Me by Susie Suh even though it has nothing to do with Jurdan, just that it's an excellent song suggested to me by my equally excellent bestie!

@acourtoftruelove — this is all your fault. This is all yours.

Happy reading!

Also on: AO3

Other writing

Jude is late.

Late—though not in the sense that she's delayed for an appointment or a meeting. Nor has she tarried from a destination or celebration for too long. No, Jude is never late.

And by Jude she means her period.

(Funny, how even in an inhuman world, contraception is still—at most—97 percent effective)

And Jude hasn't thrown up since her early attempts at mithridatism, and two years it's been since she was taken to the Undersea as prisoner and forced to miss her daily dosage. While the withdrawal had been brutal on her body, her second endeavor at immunization had been met with much success. So she could not possibly be throwing up because of it, and that which ails the Folk rarely affect humans. And symptoms for the same… conditions that both Folk and humans are privy to may manifest differently within her kind. So really, this could only mean one thing.

She is pregnant.

she is pregnant she is pregnant she is pregnant she is about to have a meltdown and oh god she is pregnant

She does not tell Cardan because of course she does not tell Cardan.

There is no point, she tells herself. They are only reigning for five more years. It is Oak who needs successors, not them. And would she really subject another person to this world? Or the better question being could this world—or any world for that matter—be ready for a child made of her and Cardan, born of murder and manipulation and strife and hatred?

(Beyond it being her exclusive power as a human, Jude is simply a professional at telling lies—)

Which leads her to this conclusion: she is not keeping the baby.

There is no point, she repeats. Cardan will not want this baby.

(—especially when she tells lies to herself)

She informs no one and so she procures a poison all on her own. She knows she could have asked the Bomb to do it, but it wasn't exactly a difficult task for Jude.

But really, she just doesn't want anyone to know.

It isn't until a week after this revelation, as she’s staring down a cup filled a quarter of the way with the crushed petals of deathsweet, is she hit with waves of wrongness in the form of a seemingly unending bout of nausea, her heart screaming—no! No, I can't I can't I will not do this!

Because it is becoming all too real—there is a living thing growing inside her. A living thing that never did her any harm. A living thing created by her and Cardan with odds of (at minimum) fifty percent it could be made of the best parts of the both of them. Because Jude may be selfish and blinded by ambition and a murderer, but contrary to popular belief… she isn't heartless.

If anything, Jude is full of heart. You have to be, to be able to love the creature who murdered your parents in cold blood. You have to at least have the capacity for such a love, and Jude is brimming with it. She is an ocean of it, an immeasurable well that overflows despite itself. She cares too damn much, and it has always been her strength weakness.

And Cardan—she remembers the day she found Eldred's jewels, and how he chose to immortalize the memory of Cardan's mother turning him away only for her to pay that little bit of attention to his cruelty. Then Jude remembers the first time she kissed him, the first time she touched him, the way he looked when she uttered her vows.

How in those moments, this King of Darkness had been filled with unfettered radiance and pure light.

That same light that now grows inside her. A part of Cardan that now lives inside her.

So can she do this to him? Could she deny him the selfless and unadulterated love that which only a child untouched by the horrors of the world could provide? Can she refuse him this, like so many—herself she, shamefully, includes—have done before?

She drops the goblet, blood red whorls cascading the length of the ground like blood, deep and thick and red. But so, so alive, that beautiful color of life.

(No, no she cannot)

She storms out of her ensuite, intent on tracking her husband down, only to discover him on her bed. He is seated calmly, blithely, head bowed and eyes averted to the ground, his feet spread on the floor, fingers steepled before him and his elbows resting on his knees—as if the intensity of her thoughts and actions conjured him before her very eyes.

“Cardan,” she breathes, his name falling from her quivering lips like both an anathema and a benediction, and she wishes she could just find a modicum of calm so she can do this properly, so she can do this ri—

“I'm pregnant,” she blurts.

ungracefully, calamitously, deploringly

He peers up at her. His stare is barren and unflinching when he says, “I know.”

She bites her lip, struggling against the surprised gasp that yearns to escape her because of course. Of course he knew. He is the High King of Elfhame. If he can raise islands from the sea, then to sense life is, no doubt, child's play to him—perhaps borderline insulting in its simplicity. Which is what makes her subterfuge all the more repugnant.

“I was going to abort it,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow. As if it could cushion the rough edges that line her crime.

As if she could lay down a veneer over the ugly heinousness of her sin, absolution waiting to be found in his eyes.

“I know.”

But again, all she is met with is that blank stare and that equally blank tone and that equally blank reply.

“I changed my mind, though.”

A pause, before a quiet, “I know.”

She picks at his carefully crafted inflection and fancies that if she listens hard enough, she is able to discern an emotion behind his voice besides that of the auditory demonstration of the word ‘void’.

But she is no Fae, and even if she was, she probably would not hear anyway because Cardan is just that good. He is good.

So, though she knows the answer, she asks him. She asks him because she needs him to feel something say something else.

“Are you angry?” she mutters, all warbled syllables and watery articulations. And she hates that.

She hates the tremble in her limbs and the cowardly part of her that urges her to curl herself into a protective ball—a part she thought she had long ago killed. She hates how small her voice is when the words escape her traitorous mouth. She hates the way her eyes are resolute in defying her orders by refusing to meet his stare. She is not herself, or at least, it's been an age since she was last this way.

But she no longer entirely belongs to herself, does she? However temporary this may be. She lives and she lives for another. The knowledge that she is responsible for yet another life leaves her feeling utterly vulnerable and incapable, though she knows this is irrational. She is a warrior. She is a murderer who has killed in the name of the crown, her family and herself. She is a queen, and there is power in that. She need not be afraid. But as she faces the consequences of her omission in the form of Cardan's wrath, she is still crippled by the need to know. She needs to hear him say it.

(As if the confirmation would pardon her of her guilt when it would only anchor her to the pain of her actions further, as strained and suffocating as a noose around her neck)

Cardan rises, and shadows seem to gather around him as he prowls gracefully towards her. Her heated skin meets his cold fingers, firm and austere, because it is her and it is Cardan and they are never quite as soft as they should be when it comes to each other. There is a scarcity of kindness in their partnership.

They are not gentle. No, this is her High King, demanding her attention now.

So their eyes meet, a clash of mud and ink and there. There it is. There is that look in his eyes—that hungry rage, that depthless fury for which he had been branded a cruel prince… a wicked king.

Yet beneath it, that aching, turbulent despair too. Barely noticeable and easily overlooked, unless he permits you to see.

Oh, how he desires for her to see.How he thirsts for her suffering.

And she can't even rail against it, against him, because she deserves it.

By god, she deserves it.

And moreso, she hates how everything about being human betrays her—from her moiling, racing heart to the sweat now beading her back and her temples.

(Impetuously, she wonders if their baby will inherit the easy flush of her skin or will it be as pale and ethereal as its father? Will it accede her more human fallibilities or be unquestionably, indomitably Fae in supernatural abilities? Will it be as aloof and cunning as she or as charming and deceptive as he?

Or will their baby be a messy, disastrous, beautiful combination of them both?)

(Their baby, oh god)

Cardan's voice is as low and enticing as a prurient lover when he whispers, "Yes."

She nods. For once, she is resigned. Accepting. And because of it, she strives for some imitation of levity with an arch but ultimately paltry quip of, "Are you going to exile me again?"

But the High King does not laugh.

A stupid joke to begin with, for even if he does exile her, they both know she would find her way back.

(Only she could ever find a way back to him)

Instead, his grip on her chin tightens as his other hand finds her hip.

"Infuriating woman," he coos, even when his touch feels like a howling winter within his palms. "When are you going to realize that you are not alone? That you never have to do anything alone, ever again?"

And that winter penetrates her bones till she is frozen with shock and breathing out a harsh and frigid,"What?"

His hold is hard—bruising—even as his breath remains a cool mist against her ear that makes her shudder, despite herself.

"My personal Atlas," he sighs, "always the weight of the world on her shoulders."

When he pulls back, his eyes remain angry torches within the midnight darkness of the room. But a relieved breath escapes her anyway when he brings their bodies flush against each other and he is receptive to the way she locks her arms around his neck and shackles him to her.

"Make no mistake, Jude. I am angry. But not for the reasons you might think.”

He shakes his head and she is assaulted by the emotion conquering his beautiful visage, the barrage of his disappointment piercing her heart in twisting, deadly ways. Not even his anger has the ability to penetrate the protective barrier she has erected around her emotions the way his disappointment can.

(Because anger is easy. His anger is steam and easily dissipated. But his disappointment is a parasite—infecting first his mind, body and soul then hers, as it burgeons and festers)

“I’m not angry that you didn't want to keep the child. I'm angry that once again, you chose to keep me in the dark. You chose not to trust me enough to share in this with you, that we might decide on a course of action together.”

Another sigh. Another embittered shake of his head. “I thought we were past this.”

“We are—”

“It does not appear that way,” he growls, anger momentarily rousing and taking precedence, before altogether, deflating. “Not where I'm standing.”

(But most of all she hates that too, hates that she is the reason for the anguish that paints his eyebrows into a marred frown, his eyes into a lament and his mouth in defeated angles)

So though it pains her to say it, say it she does because she does trust him. It took forever and a day but yes yes yes she trusts him.

And he needs to know it.

"I was scared," she croaks, barely holding back a sob. "I'm still scared."

Because what the hell did she know about being a mother? About being a parent? She is Madoc’s daughter, and she is every bit the monster he made her and then some. Because if there is anything she's learned from living in Faerie, it's that Monsters maketh Monsters.

So yes, she is scared. She is terrified to bring this child into the world, to bear responsibility for raising this child to not only survive but to live, the best life that she can bestow.

But she is not Atlas. She doesn't have to do this alone, nor does she want to. And... she could know better, right? No, she does know better. She did it for Vivi, and she did it for Oak and for Taryn. She did it for Cardan, and Cardan has done it for her. They are what their Masters made them, true, but their child does not have to be the same. They could forge it anew. They could mold it into something else. Something better—born of Monsters but made of goodness and kindness and effulgence.

(Because yet another thing she's learned from Faerie—has discovered within herselfis even monsters learn to love their misdeeds)

She would give this babe what her mother was unable to give her and she would provide it tenfold. Because she knows better. They know better.

And she has to believe it.

She has to believe in him, too.

“And you think I'm not?” he starts haltingly, before resolution cements his glare.

“I made you a vow, wife. You are to be my queen and my bride, in every sense of the word. Even this,” he rasps, as he lets go of her chin and shifts his touch to her stomach.

“Especially this.”

She's crying in earnest now. Not the pretty and delicate way that most of the Folk do, but a deluge of salt and snot that drowns her face.

“Anything I've ever done right, all that is good in my life… it has been because of you. You are madness personified and Leannán Sídhe incarnate.” She sucks in a sharp breath at his acrid timbre. “But,” he hums after a leaden period of silence—a susurrous proclamation that is made all the more potent for its tenderness.

“You are the rhyme and the reason, the chaos and the utopia. A symptom of my most fevered dreams and a cure from my bedeviled reality. Were I a minstrel or a bard, my every beginning, middle and end would be composed of you. And were I a fool,” and here his breath hitches, “then may I only be a fool in love with you.”

She has forgotten how to speak, at this point. She has forgotten how to breathe.She has forgotten everything—everything except for the way Cardan looks and thinks and speaks and feels. For he may have once written her name repeatedly across a piece of paper, but she's got him written extensively across her heart.

“Whatever happens, whoever this becomes,” trepid fingers mark a shaky path beneath her chemise till he is cosseting the currently imperceptible bump of her stomach, “this is not a mistake. We are not a mistake.”

(She believes in him. She believes in them. She believes, she believes, she believes)

"I am still angry.”

It is her turn to say, ruefully, “I know.”

“But I made you a vow, Jude Duarte,” he recurs in deceptively smooth intonations. “And I intend to keep it.” His stare is intent with mockery and his voice pointed and goading as he issues his challenge.

“Do you?”

She's hurt him. She knows she has.

So she doesn't take his bait. No, she rather tempers his ire by joining his hand resting lightly over her stomach with her own, the one where the ruby ring he once stole now makes a home of her ring finger, digits entwining in a physical manifestation of their matrimonial pronouncements.

“I do,” she promises, so very soft and fragile and achingly, heart-wrenchingly human.But devout and sincere and wholly free of deceit all the same. “Till the crown has passed from our hands,” she avows.

(Again and again and again, she will swear by it)

For the first time in this entire conversation, he smiles. Brittle and vascillant and crooked, too—a fragment in the perfect symmetry of his face.

But it is a smile. And there is a certain serenity to the curl of his mouth, the curve of one upturned cheek... and so she takes it. She takes the small and broken smile because it is still his smile, and it is better than anger and disappointment. It is better than nothing.

He presses his forehead to hers, breathing her in—tears, sweat, desperation and all.

“And maybe even then.”

She traces his lips before cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch like someone starved of food and drink instead of the revered monarch that he truly is, one who has yet to be denied anything.

(Not this—not affection and not love. Never again, she affirms, if only to herself this time. Because Jude is an ocean of love, an immeasurable well that overflows despite itself. Because she cares too damn much, and it has always been her weakness strength)

“And maybe even then,” she echoes, quietly hoping for maybe to mean definitely.

And so it does. Slowly, gradually. Like the constantly shifting plates beneath her feet or the everlasting revolution of the earth. But earthquakes erupt and new years come and go as the planet completes its circuit around the sun and along with it—

They prevail.

Till even then becomes nine months later and the birth of a new line of Greenbriars in the form of their first son, who is strong and healthy and beautiful and every bit the refulgent soul his parents dare hoped he would be.

Till even then turns into thirteen prosperous years of rule in what many will call "The Amber Age of Elfhame", so named for its silver king and its golden queen, and the clever and competent way they maintained peace throughout the kingdom as if it were an insect trapped in amber.

Till even then morphs into the birth of five more children, Greenbriar in name only, for unlike their ancestors, they all loved each other with a fierce passion and an unyielding loyalty that to turn on each other felt to them, like a keen death in itself.

Till even then dissolves them of their previous vows so they form new ones, vows that go beyond their desire to wed, beyond the passing of the crown, beyond life and death and everything in between.

Till even then blossoms into forevermore.

AN: This is my first ever FOTA fic. It was originally in headcanon format so I'm sorry if the pacing is off but, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

Feedback is appreciated lovelies :)

Come say hi to me!

[ravenkings]

Would’st Thou Like to Live Deliciously?: Part 1

Michael Langdon x Fem!Reader, AHS: Apocalypse x The Witch (2015) AU

Summary: Based on the 2015 film “The Witch”. Alone in the vast wilderness of 17th Century New England after your family has been killed off by witchcraft, you, a Puritan girl, are faced with an impossible choice: death or signing your soul away to Satan and becoming a witch. Black Phillip, the family goat, has been looking at you strangely, and you wonder if he is exactly what he seems to be...

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: AU, Dark!fic, MAJOR spoilers for the ending of “The Witch” (2015), Historical Setting (1600s New England), Fem!Reader, Lapsed Puritan!Reader, Dom!Michael, Matricide, Violence, Murder, Poor attempts at writing linguistically accurate 17th Century English dialogue, Shape-shifting Michael Langdon, Michael Langdon is Black Phillip, Nudity, Slight Glove Kink, Sensuality, Selling your soul to Satan

Note: So this is my first fanfic that I’ve actually published on the internet. I’ve tried writing them for years, but I’ve never actually posted them online, so this is a first for me! I obviously own nothing, and I did pull major sections of the dialogue directly from “The Witch”. I’m open to any and all feedback, and stay tuned for Part 2!

You lay on the dirt in shock, breathing in gasps as you felt your mother’s corpse weigh heavily on you. Her blood was sticky on your hands and face, staining the front of your dress. You still held the knife that you had thrust in your mother’s face as she had pinned you to the ground, screaming and raving, choking you with her bare hands, her grief over your dead siblings and your dead father sending her spiraling into madness. The madness that had consumed your entire family since you had all been banished from the Colony due to your own father’s indomitable, sinful pride. 

She would have killed you, you knew, if you had not defended yourself. And yet, in saving your own life, you knew that you were irrevocably damned. With this most blackest of sins, not only of murder, but the murder of your own mother staining your hands, you were now beyond any hope of ever seeing God’s mercy. You were most truly a sinner now, and more alone than you ever were, even in your most despairing, isolated moments. God had abandoned you entirely. It was this, more than even the horror of the act that you had committed that caused you to start sobbing. You lay there on the ground for several minutes, sobbing harder than you ever had before. After a time, you knew not how long, you extricated yourself from under your mother’s body and stood up on unsteady legs. You found yourself wandering back into the house, where you stripped off the top layer of your dress, leaving you only in your bloodstained white shift. You then sat down at the kitchen table, head in your hands.

You began to cry again. As you sat there sobbing, you chanced to glance out through the open front door and saw that goat, Black Phillip, staring at you with his yellow, horizontal-pupiled eyes. The creature who had gored your father through the stomach with one of his horns and left him bleeding on the ground. He was a gorgeous if monstrous beast, larger than any goat you’d ever seen and pitch black with enormous ribbed, curved horns. You remembered your father leading him home the day before you’d left the Colony, boasting of the bargain he’d acquired from one of your neighbors.

“I had to implore the good woman to accept my coin. She claimed she would take not a penny for the beast and that she only wanted him gone. For the life of me, I cannot begin to fathom why. I wager thou hast never seen such a magnificent beast. God indeed smiles upon us.”

As you locked eyes with the goat, you felt a strange chill run up your spine. There was something alien yet sentient in his gaze. Otherworldly, but with a human intelligence. Demonic, in other words. You thought back to all the events that had led you to this moment. The banishment from the Colony. The disappearance of your baby brother Samuel from before your very eyes. The bewitchment of your brother Caleb. The poor harvest. The lack of animals to hunt in the woods. And finally, the disgusting old hag who had killed all the livestock and spirited away your little twin siblings Jonas and Mercy. 

You’d had your suspicions for weeks. You’d seen how Jonas and Mercy whispered and giggled with the goat, sang songs and danced in its honor, accused you of witchcraft before your mother and father while grinning maliciously behind their backs and scampering off. And you’d felt the eyes of the goat on you in private moments when you thought you were alone and unobserved: washing the linens in the stream by the cabin, daydreaming by the well when you were supposed to be retrieving water, feeding the chickens and the pigs. 

In that moment, you knew what he was, and your heart almost stopped. An audible gasp escaped your lips, and the chill morning air suddenly felt even colder. Still, you could not take your eyes from Black Phillip. After what could have been seconds or minutes, he nodded his head up and down in what could only be called a distinctly human gesture, as if to confirm what you knew to be true. He then turned and trotted away back towards the barn. You sat there, the shock rendering your mind a blank slate.

You stared down at your hands, at the blood drying and cracking on your fingers and under your fingernails. You were entirely alone, you knew. And you were no longer yourself. There was no hope for survival in this tiny cabin in the middle of the forest, the source of a seemingly endless stream of dangers. And you could not go back to the Colony. You would be tried and found guilty, either of witchcraft or murder, and hanged within a fortnight if not sooner. Every path that revealed itself to you ended in death. All except one. 

You shivered again, trying to erase this idea from your mind and made your way upstairs to the little straw mattress that you slept on. The moment you closed your eyes, you were lost to velvety, dreamless sleep.

When you awoke, it was nighttime. The silvery light from the full moon shone through the little window in the loft. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, slowly coming to accept the decision that you knew you had already made. The decision that had been made for you the moment you and your family had been banished to this wilderness. You stood up, lit a candle, and took it with you as you made your way downstairs, stepping outside and shutting the front door for what you knew would be the last time. You took a deep breath of the cool night air to steady yourself. Looking to the stable, you saw the goat standing in front of it, staring at you, just as you knew he would be. You walked towards the barn, and once you were within a few feet, the goat turned and went inside through the slightly open door. You followed him. Black Phillip stood before you, his yellow eyes glistening in the candlelight. 

“Black Phillip, I conjure thee to speak to me.” Your voice trembled, but the words came out clearly. “Speak as thou dost speak to Jonas and Mercy.” Silent, the goat continued to stare at you. 

“Dost thou understand my English tongue?” Silence.

“Answer me.” The goat’s eyes were glassy like marbles. You began to wonder if this was folly, if you’d gone as mad as your mother, if you’d doubly damned yourself now without any hope of being rewarded for it. Heart sinking, you turned away. In that moment, you felt an almost imperceptible shift in the air. 

“What dost thou want?” asked a silky masculine voice. You turned around and almost gasped. The goat was gone and in his place was a tall man dressed in black with long luxuriant honey blond hair. He was handsome, handsomer than any man you’d ever known, with a narrow face, a sharp jaw and cheekbones, a straight nose, slanted clear blue eyes that were narrowed, and plump lips that were curled back in a very slight sneer. His beauty was unearthly and dangerous, a weapon in and of itself. You gaped at him for a moment before regaining your wits.

“What can’st thou give?” you asked. The man’s pouty lips twisted into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you, his riding boots clicking on the floor.

“Would’st thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Would’st thou like to live...deliciously?”

He leaned in, inches from your face. You could smell him, his scent a heady mix of clove and pine and something musky that you couldn’t name, a scent meant to draw you in. The Devil is the great tempter, the great seducer, you had been told since you were a child, and looking from his sky blue eyes to his soft lips, so close to your own, you knew you were lost. 

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. His smirk grew wider, and you thought you saw his blue eyes turn black for half a moment. He leaned in closer to you, a graceful, sinuous movement, until his lips were at your ear, his body practically touching yours. 

“Would’st thou like to see the world?” he whispered, hot breath brushing your ear. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you felt melting heat rushing throughout your body. 

“What will you from me?” you whispered.

“Dost thou see a book before thee?” You opened your eyes, and in front of you, on the floor, lay an open leather-bound book with weathered, yellowing pages. The letters that you couldn’t read swirled across the page, entwined with illustrations of flowers and animals in gold leaf, scarlet, indigo, all sorts of bright rich colors that you almost felt that you had never seen before, so accustomed were you to drab grays and browns and blacks. 

The man, Black Phillip, Lucifer, whatever he went by, stepped behind you and placed his gloved hands on your shoulders. You could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body, and it warmed your icy cold skin. You instinctively pulled closer, and you heard him chuckle slightly at your display of neediness. He gently brushed a lock of your long hair over your shoulder and brought his lips to your ear again.

“Remove thy shift.”

You felt your heart pound and heat pool between your legs. His grip tightened on your shoulders. With trembling fingers, you undid the buttons down the front of the bloodstained shift and let it fall to the floor. You were completely exposed, shivering from the cold, but even more from a sick sort of anticipation, not that you could admit it to yourself, not even now. He let go of your shoulders, and you felt his eyes run up and down your body, blatantly appraising you like he was a rich man you had once seen back home in England, forever ago, who was purchasing an Arabian steed. He walked in a circle around you, his eyes lingering on your breasts, your legs, the apex of your tightly clenched thighs, humming approvingly. The heat between your legs grew, and you felt yourself starting to grow wet.

Having seen enough to satisfy him, the man stepped behind you again and took a firm hold of your shoulder with one hand and the back of your head with the other. He, gently but firmly, pushed your head down so that you were staring at the floor in front of you. You saw the book and understood what he was asking you to do.

You were to sign it, the Devil’s book. It was the book that all witches signed. Once you had done this, your soul would be locked away into his possession, and he would be your master for all eternity and even beyond that. Your mouth ran dry as you saw the one empty line on the page, the one undoubtedly reserved for you. 

“I..I cannot write my name,” you said truthfully. You had learned to read simple prayers and Bible verses but never to write. You had always been told a girl had more useful things to learn, like needlework and spinning wool and how to keep a good, clean, God-fearing household. The man chuckled again. 

“I will guide thy hand.”

You looked back at the man’s face, which was so close to your own, at his full, soft, smirking lips and longed to kiss them, longed for that more than you had for anything else in your life. He seemed to know what you were thinking and shook his head, amused at your desperation. He ghosted his thumb along your bottom lip, just barely touching it.

“All in good time, little dove. Now sign,” he murmured. You averted your eyes and nodded. You knelt down on the floor and picked up the quill pen, which had just appeared lying on the page. You felt the familiar burning heat against your back as the man say behind you and then, to your surprise, pulled you into his lap. The book then levitated, as if a pair of invisible hands had picked it up, and floated towards you until it was hovering right over your lap. 

Black Phillip took your small shaking hand in his own large one, guided it and the quill down to the page, and, in one quick motion, signed it for you. You watched with strange detachment as the ink flowed from the quill, signing away your life and your soul. You shed no tears, and you suddenly felt a strange peace, gazing at the cursive flourish that you knew was your name. All of the anxiety, the self-doubt, the self-hatred, the suffering that you had experienced in your futile quest to be a good, pious Christian were no longer of any consequence. You could now be your truest self and taste fully of the pleasures of life that you had always secretly craved. 

You were shaken out of your thoughts when the heavy book slammed shut of its own accord and vanished into thin air. You blinked, surprised, and turned around to look at the man. His beautiful face had an expression of feline satisfaction.

“Is it done?” you asked. The man stared at you for a long moment, looking for all the world like tomcat who had cornered a particularly juicy mouse. He shook his head.

“Not quite.”

And before you could react, his tongue licked a hot column up your neck while his gloved hands reached around either side of your body and pinched both your nipples. 

[ncumenia-archived]

📱MOBILE-FRIENDLY LORE📱

OTHER LINKS: rules bio headcanons

ERNYE THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

[League Of Legends Lunari OC ]

[Pssst! Are you looking for ODYSSEY!Ernye’s lore? Go there!]

«Foolish call it carnage, but I call it justice for my people.»

~ Ernye  

Killed with her family and most beloved friends by Ra Horak, Ernye is a revenant Lunari whose sole purpose is to exterminate the Solari, guilty of persecuting her people. Her extremist manners fed by grudge makes her a dangerous opponent, who considers herself as the silent and dark side of the Moon. Through her shadow and moon-based powers, she’s hellbent to eradicate Solari from Targon.

Born during a cold Targonian night, Ernye was a simple Lunari, daughter of minister Maelor and master weaver Selaenna. Educated in Lunari culture since she was a kid, she knew right away the deep disdain that Solari people felt towards her clan experiencing strong discrimination that’ll push all her community to hide in the most remote places around Mount Targon.

Despite the problems given by them, Ernye grew up in a loving environment surrounded by the ones she loved the most, in particular, she’ll form a strong and emotional bond with her mother, that’ll teach her, with the father, the art of painting and writing.

Becoming a young adult she found her calling as a Moon priestess, proving to be one of the most promising apprentices, and most of her time she lived at the sacred Lunari temple.

As the years went by, at 24, her father started looking for a husband for her, Ernye’s life was totally devoted to knowledge and bringing honor to her family, putting aside the opportunity to get to know more about herself, studying and practicing at the temple until exhaustion. Time passed and one of the most important Lunari festivals had arrived: the full Moon celebration. But, the night prior to the event, her spirit full of joy got jeopardized by a bad-omen bringer dream: a lunar eclipse. 

Scared by its meaning, when the morning came, she found no one to tell about the dreadful nightmare she had, not until she considered to talk to the Lunari High Prophet, Jaelor. Ernye, in his presence, questioned him about the dream for she was unsure about its meaning, and mayhaps it was only a mere coincidence.

Ernye was dead wrong: Jaelor, in the grip of madness, attacked her and, laughing like a madman, yelled those exact words:

«YOU’LL BE A DAWNLESS NIGHT, MY SWEET CHILD!»

And, then, he took a small ampoule containing the poisonous moonflower’s extract, often used by Lunari to commit suicide and preventing to get killed and their soul sealed by Solari, to prevent them to reach the spirit realm, and then he drank it in front of her. Frightened by such prediction and view, the girl ran off, scared that if she confessed the truth both she and her family would run in some serious danger, therefore, although she was deeply shocked, she managed to stay silent, unaware that such a choice would have led to an unrecoverable tragedy.

By evening, Ernye temporarily forgot all her problems and one of the priestess, that night, offered to predict her future through the stars, as her father wanted to know about the man she was going to marry. But she would never know the verdict because that night was going to be a bloodbath: ambushed by some Ra Horak troops, the soldiers proposed them an ultimatum: leave that night the Targon or perish.

The answer was blood: while Lunari soldiers desperately tried to push away the Solari, Ernye and another Lunari group - including some of her friends and their families- ran for safety through general panic, but everything will be worthless: not only she will see all her loved ones dying in front of her eyes, but also she will be fatally stabbed in the sternum by a Ra Horak spear, followed by her lifeless body falling backward, hitting the cold stone of the temple.

Seriously injured, but not dead, her mother witnessed in horror her beloved daughter’s death and, refusing to let soul sealed by Solari’s weapon through the use of Lunari’s dark arts related with the Spiritual Realm she has learned in order to find a cure to her limping and the side effects caused by the pain killer drugs she had been consuming, as soon as the Ra Horak left the room to hunt other Lunari, with all her strength she managed to carry Ernye with her, taking her to one of the sacred moon altars nearby. Although her conditions were worsening and her own life was the price to pay in order to correctly perform the ritual, a genuine mother’s love was stronger than a mere deadly requirement.

As Selaenna gently leaned Ernye on the thin layer of water which were slowly turned red, the woman began to perform the ritual, slowly feeling her own life being drained away, her eyes witnessed in hope and joy her daughter’s injuries slowly being restored, and the seal weakening.

Until rough footsteps echoed in the air, the Ra Horak had found them.

As soon as they set foot on the stairs, Selaenna involuntarily interrupted the ritual, witnessing in horror the water turning black and Ernye sinking in, unknown what would have happened to her afterward…

Before the woman got fatally stabbed by one of their spears, her last thoughts went out to her sole, beloved daughter and her safety.

When Ernye reopened her eyes, she found herself in a dark, eerie place which she’ll soon discover it’s populated with monstrous creatures created by the deepest and most disturbing nightmares one could ever imagine. Soon, she found out, in order to not become like them, she had to survive thanks to the Lunari magic infused in her body. As time passed, during one of her expeditions to find a way out, Ernye ran into a little owl, who will soon become her only companion, and naming her Noctua.

But, that wasn’t the sole encounter the Lunari will have, something more powerful was actually waiting for her, a power which was feared by those who worshipped the light…

The shadows.

Although corrupted by that cursed place, they fully and quickly understood Ernye’s story, who she’ll become their beloved one, to guide and protect her at all costs. 

However, the more she stayed in that place, the more her body began to change: from her silver hair turning into a pitch-black hue to her skin desaturating, resembling the moonlight. It was crystal clear she had to get away as soon as possible, otherwise, she would have turned into those monstrosities that inhabited that place.

And, thanks to her lunar and shadows powers, she managed to find a way out.

And, she woke up in a dried pool, a ruined place which she quickly recognized as the sacred temple. Overwhelmed by despair, Ernye managed to look for her parents, her friends, her people…

Only to realized everyone was dead. And, such saturnine revelation made her scream and cry in agony, swearing her revenge and eternal hate toward Solari.

With only Noctua as her silent companion and thinking she was the sole Lunari who, although wasn’t fully alive, was the only survivor, she managed to live in those lonely caves, slowly figuring out all the side effects of her “new life”, from being totally barren to discover how much painful was staying under the sunlight and touching gold. It was clear she was forced to come out only during the night.

Over the years, she did her best to save what was left of her kin, recollecting all the stolen artifacts, transcribing all the manuscripts she managed to find…

To kill all those who dared to deconsecrate the place she lived in. And there, she discovered the horrific feeling of taking someone’s life, just like Solari did with her kin. Although the sorrow she felt by killing each person she met who dared to harm her, she had no other options.

But, one day, things changed: during one of her nocturnal expeditions, she ran into a group of children -and she quickly recognized her kin’s clothes-, who got captured by a group of Rakkors and about to get killed by them. She would have never let some filthy scums to harm children because of religions purposes. That’s why she managed to grab them with her shadow’s powers and dragging them into the blackest darkness…

Only to silence them forever. She refused to let those innocent children see a man dying.

Before the children ran away, she appeared in front of them in tears, for she wished to not harm them, but only to protect them. Luckily, they recognized not only the sacred pieces of jewelry she was wearing but also her holy aura related to their people. Therefore, they took her to their hidden village, and mere words were not able to describe the Targonian woman’s joy as she found out the Lunari were still alive, and so some descendants of the people who lived in her old village.

From that day, Ernye devoted herself to protect that village from any intruders who wished to harm them, helping the elders with all their pupils and realizing one of the greatest dreams: opening and taking care of a small farm, helped by her people when she had to travel around Runeterra to gather more information about Lunari who survived during the tragedy.

Now, she wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

[After reading my lore, I suggest you check Ernye’s identikit, so you’ll know more about her before rping with me!]