#and hint towards the ‘right’ path if he’s really struggling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-stories-vault · 25 days ago

Text

Chapter 4 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N

Blurb: Purgatory suits you, to be honest. Plenty of distractions to choose from, you can kill as many as to your heart's content. And your heart is one insatiable bastard—it'll do anything to keep the memories of your ex away. Until a face much similar to his struts up into your territory, looking for you, promising you a home you lost too long ago. Your heart melted once before, do you think you would be able to risk it all again for the same criminaly handsome face?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Supernatural Wars spoilers, major and minor character deaths, mentions of previous major character deaths, voilence, gore, tons of angst, (sort of, but not really) love triangle, language, self-sacrifices (not exactly suicide), betrayals, etc.

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 4: At 10.23 p.m.

He could smell irises - the flowers of hope and faith. It hinted at a trick, he was walking into a trap. Hope and faith? What cruel things to say when those were the flowers that would be offered to someone he loved, someone who . . .

He was walking in a field of irises towards a headstone, on a path where the flowers had parted for him. It was a large headstone, home for two. Carved in warm words on the cold stone: Mary and John Winchester; he could see it from far away, their names. "Beloved Leaders, loving parents, soulmates," it read. He suddenly had a bouquet of dead irises in his hand, the only dead things in this vibrant valley - well, besides the bodies buried six feet under, in a couple's coffin, holding hands to walk away into their afterlifes - away from their sons.

He felt the ground on his knees. He placed the flowers at the foot of their shared tombstone. Then he started apologizing like he always did to this tomb - it was always in a different setting, but he ended up kneeling in the same place before them - their criminal who was never put to justice.

'Come with me, Dean,' said a voice of a lullaby; he would never forget it.

'Go away,' he growled, but there was not much fight in him - no matter how much he struggled, she never left him.

Predictably, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her cold, powerful, God-like hand. But not God, she was his sister - or so they'd thought.

When God left, he left behind a part of his sister to sustain the Earth eventhough this place was just a fucking draft in his story, an unedited version. God's real story, the one that he might've been proud of, was playing out somewhere else - that was where his real sister was - with him, even if she might be prisoned in that Universe as most cross-dimensional Travellers say.

So, this . . . this monster - whatever she was; perhaps a shadow of her true self - was something like a battery to keep this world going. But why did she have to become a villain; had she not thrown a tantrum, Dean wouldn't have had to be responsible for her death.

Her death that bought him nightmares. He traded a life of nobody for a life of popularity the day he killed her, he traded a life of a spoiled, moderate hunter for a life where the archangels and the heirs of Hell wanted his head, he traded a life of love and family for a life of . . . what? What did he even have?

'I'm here,' she told him. 'I'm never leaving you.'

'Go. Away!' he emphasized. His heart was trying to bruise his rib cage as she crouched - that must be where the pain was coming from.

'Look at me, Dean,' she spoke in his ear, her right hand on his left cheek, her front against his back, her voice silky. 'You love me - you have to look at me!'

He cringed away from her, trying to physically put distance but her grip was too strong. At least he had his eyes shut - she couldn't make him look at her without his permission.

'I hate you!' he had to utter forcefully - as if he wasn't so sure himself.

'You can't,' she said simply. 'You are meant to love me. Only me.'

She was so compelling that he wanted to peek at her face - even if he could see her image clearly on the thin film of his lids; the fair-skinned woman, tall, with dark hair tresses that she never tied up, and just as dark eyes. Those eyes pormised him no pain, contrary to what she aspired to do to millions of souls around the globe - contrary to how she'd killed his parents . . .

'You're wrong! You're wrong!' he shouted. 'I fucking loathe you!'

'You love me!' she screeched back. 'You desire me! You are meant for me!'

Any second now, Dean would be grovelling to be left alone. He would be begging for Amara to let him go. He would be sobbing to move on. She would wear him down, she always did - all the time when he wasn't too tired in his sleep.

'Please,' he shuddered. 'I can't love you! You killed my family!'

'But you do. That's why you're perfect for me,' she cooed. 'Because you're dark like me. You can't live without me!'

Tears of agony streamed down his face. He rocked on his haunches, tortured by the fate forcing him to be in love with a woman who murdered his parents - a woman that he'd already killed.

He was on the verge of breaking. He would turn, look at her as if she was his entire world - and then wake up to an empty life. Any second now . . .

'Wake up!' a woman roared louder than both of theirs - something that had never happened before - but the new enraged voice wasn't unknown.

His eyes snapped open and he could only glimpse at those burning, protective e/c orbs seared in his mind—before he was gasping awake in reality, his eyes opening to his room where there was no headstone, no Amara, and . . . no Ms Heart who woke him up.

'What the hell?'

He just took his bedside drinking water to splash on his face, drenching his sheets and nightshirt in the process. The water got in his eyes and effectively woke him up - he could tell the dream apart from the reality now. Just like he could tell what the dull ache in his chest was. He poured himself another glass, this time to quench his thirst but even the cool water wasn't enough to soothe the jagged edges of the hole in his chest.

That bitch Amara, spit his mind. She always left him floundering for peace, even five years after she was in the fucking ground.

He put his shaky legs on the freezing floor. His curtains were billowing with the breeze, his large balcony giving him the freedom that he got from nothing else in his life. The moon was like a silver cutout pasted into the dark navy night, giving no real light to his grounds below where he could see few of his soldiers on shift. They walked the street between small farms and battle arenas, in groups of twos. He doubted they would see him however, if he were to lean against his balcony.

He decided to change and have an early start on his day. He slipped into his flannel and jeans - the palace was one of the few places where he could dress like he wanted to, except when there were Balls or Meetings. He could slip into his jacket and feel like a normal human being loitering about on a normal Tuesday morning. And he would have enjoyed his few precious hours at his palace before he was inevitably pulled away for another job, if he hadn't been so worried about his family.

Upon reflection, he knew it was a stupid thing to overthink - if it was any other group of Leaders, he would personally be seeing off the group at the Gates, wishing them luck with a few cursory flowers, never to see them again - but he was moping now. He tried to explain to himself that he did what he could - he offered his help like he would any other Leader, and he played a good host - he took care of his continent . . . Then why was there despair filling up his chest like rot in a well?

These weren't just any Leaders. His family, his only remaining family.

He exhaled long and deep from his nostrils.

He decided he could concentrate on the half-imagined and half-real Ms Heart. Dean was almost sure that he was obsessed with her - but only because he knew he could never have her; she was just one of those desires to crave something he won't deserve . . .

Until it struck him.

His thoughts about Ms Heart made him recall the invitation the temp Leader had handed out to him.

He dialled his best friend.

You bolted straight in your seat, your hand on your dagger before you could register that the car had hit a cluster of thick roots that had clambered onto the road - and not a monster.

'Wow,' Baz whistled. 'You slept for almost two hours without pulling a knife to someone's throat - must've been a good dream.' There was a slight tease in his voice, a tease you couldn't seem to escape whenever you talked to Baz for the last two days - ever since you met that handsome stranger.

You scrunched your nose at the Chief of your army, but he wasn't wrong; you were notorious for jumping out of a bed with a weapon loaded and aimed, almost hourly when in an unfamiliar territory. Your deep sleeps only greeted you when you were in a comfortable setting - like home. Thus, it was safe to say that you hadn't slept well for a few weeks now, and the likelihood of a proper night's sleep was a few months away as you adjusted to your new environment.

Your word was careful, almost warning him to discourage any line of questioning: ''Twas.'

It had been about him again, as every sleep had been about him since you met him - and you couldn't grasp why.

Just like you couldn't grasp why you approached him eventhough he wasn't a part of your team; or why you indulged your personal information to him; or why you let him think that you weren't an important person; or why your heart throbbed without him.

'Is it my shift yet?' you wondered, stifling a yawn.

You were lined up after Baz for about eight hours before it would be Boa's turn. Selina or Sal didn't drive; they knew the basics, but they were backseated quite literally during road trips in areas that could possibly teem with Ferals. The Griffith twins and you rotated shifts, just like several other cars that were heading and tailing your spacious Mercedes. Every day and a half or two, every car would stop for about ten hours' worth of break, to freshen up, restock food, and rest at one of the treehouse motels before the road journey would continue. Even the bathroom breaks were scheduled.

'In another hour,' muttered Baz. It was early in the morning. From the gaps between the leaves that formed a rather dense canopy over your trail, you could spot the yellowness of the rising sun. Sal was asleep with books in his lap, his snores filling the car periodically. Selina had an iPad with fireworks bouncing around on the screen, never getting cornered, from not being switched off. Boa's hands were on his belt, in a rather stiff position, but it was the nearest he could be to his weapons on either side of his stomach.

'So, was it Mr Smith again?' Baz popped the question. You tried to stave off your irritation upon the glint of invasive curiosity in his eyes.

You didn't gossip, even if it was about your own life from your own mouth. You tried to understand that it wasn't Baz's fault, he was used to knowing about people - he was very social that way. You just weren't used to considering yourself "people" . . .

'Again?' you scowled in realisation. 'I don't dream about him at all.'

A little white lie. The dream you had of him right now was more like a nightmare though.

He was blackmailing you with the secrets he knew for a kiss. You shuddered slightly at the thought. What was the scariest part is that you wanted to give in.

He was in the Eastern Europe, so he wouldn't know you or work in the same spheres as you. But then, he was also at a five-star hotel - if he was rich enough to afford it, he must do something worthwhile. He even paid for his drinks and yours; you had felt bad, but giving him money would have compromised your identity.

You would deserve the defamation, a nasal voice that suspiciously sounded close to your mother's, told you.

Why, oh, why did you have to open your mouth? What was it about him that made you spill your guts?

What would your publicist say?

Lay, you shivered. You had to talk yourself out of the wallowing and guilt that you were pretending you didn't feel. You refocused on berating yourself.

How dumb could you have been for being enchanted with a person you just met? He said a few words and riled you up enough to break your stoicity - people usually need hours of work of getting on your nerves before they can do it. But he seemed to know exactly what to say to you - exactly what he wanted from you.

He kissed you on the forehead.

It shouldn't have affected you like it did. You were stunned as he had swung away into the world, leaving you to gather yourself for uncountable moments.

People didn't kiss you besides on the hand as a royal gesture or on the cheeks if they were close, like Seth and B/F would do as close royals. Or your mom if she was feeling affectionate, your father was taciturn enough to avoid contact altogether.

Then this man shows up. A perfect stranger who lied about his name. Mischievously smiling. Eyes glinting with beautiful mysteries and haunting darkness. Beauty beyond belief. It was as if his soul was shining through to you, like he was keeping himself bare for you, so for once in your life you became fair, and did it for him too. And he kisses you on the head which last you'd known was a sign of intimacy - he takes your forehead virginity - or whatever the fuck that's called; no one has cared or dared to before.

And none of this you'll be uttering out loud to another person.

Ever.

' . . . was saying you are into exophilia,' Baz was telling you.

'What?' you blinked in confoundment.

He scoffed. 'Back to Earth, are we?'

You relaxed by the look on his face. You had a habit of zoning out of conversations that held no interest to you, or the ones where you could afford to ignore the speaker.

When you confessed this to Baz after you did it to him "accidentally" a few years ago, he made up his own ritual: whenever your eyes glazed over, he would start insulting you because you were "insulting" him, and it would go on till you decided to, in his words, "grace the lesser humans" with your attention again.

'Sorry,' you sincerely said.

Baz grew a side-long glance. 'Daydreaming about Mr Smith?'

You narrowed your eyes. 'Enough, Baz. He meant nothing.'

'Nothing? That's bollocks,' Baz claimed. 'I mean, did you see him? He was sex on legs. He must've done something to you!'

'Aren't you a celibate?' you gently reminded him.

'Yeah,' he didn't take your bait. 'With eyes. He would be perfect for you.'

You sighed. 'You know how I hate matchmaking.'

'I'm just saying,' he continued, 'you two would make a sexy couple.'

Amusement curled your lip from one end but the reprimanding tone oozed through your words. 'That's highly inappropriate, Mr Griffith.'

'Oh, what are you gonna do?' he said. 'Report me? I think you're the premiere authority here, Lead.'

You shook your head despite grinning. 'Europe has changed you, Baz.'

'Yeah! Europe is free, baby!'

'Shut up,' grumbled Sal from the backseat, stilling you and Baz for a moment. Sal twirled in his seat and he was snoring again soon. You shared a smile with Baz.

'Our workload in Europe is tenfold to what we had in America,' you addressed his previous statment.

Baz shrugged. 'So? This is our work. No one dumps it on us. This is what we were raised for! We are going to have so much fun.'

'Be serious, Baz,' you said with certain amount of dourness yourself. 'We are in-charge of half a continent.'

'No. You lighten up,' he insisted. 'Admit it, we're free at last!'

'Baz—'

'Come on! Have you no dreams?' he asked.

'Do you understand—?'

'Oh, I understand all right,' he cut you off again; the only persons who dared to do that were your teammates. He adopted the graveness you wanted from him, 'I didn't say it would be easy. Yes, we've lost people,' he paused, and it was as if he aged ten years in that second, but he forced his cheeriness back again. 'But, we can still live.'

A pause.

Baz had always been audacious with his ideas, attitudes and beliefs - maybe that's why it was so hard to listen to him. If you listened to him, you would hope to do something new - you will be motivated rebelliously . . .

But you heard the longing in him.

'What do you mean?'

'Dreams!' he laughed quitely. 'Don't you ever dream?'

You were reluctant when it turned to you. Noticing that you might be closing up, he tried again.

'If you tell me, I'll drop Mr Smith.'

You would take that deal.

'I want to learn how to climb trees,' you answered the first thing that came to you.

'That's not a dream! That's work,' he complained. 'Give me something juicy.'

You sighed as you wracked your mind for a presentable dream.

'Okay,' you said. 'I . . . am having dinner. On a gazebo.'

Baz gave you a dry, disgusted look. 'Wild.'

You rolled your eyes. 'It is for me! I've never had an uninterrupted meal before. I would like a night, amidst peaceful waters to have a meal under the stars, just . . . living, as you said.'

That seemed to impress him. 'I like that. But you keep working on it - that can't be all you want from life!'

'What's yours?' you steered away from your life, wanting to give him a space to talk.

He jumped into a fifteen-step plan that was ridiculous bogus, but the intention behind it was warming. He used hyperboles to trapeze an event that was unreal even by your standards. He was in the middle of explaining how he wanted to ride a pegasus above Atlantis - or something as unbelievable, you sorta zoned out - when a phone ringing interrupted him.

You glanced at Boa who rumbled something unintelligible, patting himself down for the phone that he kept forgetting he had. He pulled it out of his back pocket and gave a death glare to the screen.

''Ello,' he grunted. 'Uh-huh . . . Uh-huh . . . Uh-huh,' he glanced at you that time, 'Oh. Uh-huh,' he extended the phone to you.

You'd gained no preparedness from his side of the conversation. You put it to your ear and greeted the other side formally.

'Good day, Lady Y/N!' said a way too excited voice. After Boa's side of talk, you didn't think the other person could be . . . so over-the-top. 'May I speak with you for a moment?'

'I think you already are,' you said.

The unknown male on the other end laughed. 'I take it, then, that it's a good time?' He didn't wait for your answer. 'I'm Sebastian Slay. I've been in touch with Mrs Layla Stun. Is she all right?'

You didn't expect a stranger to sound so genuine about your publicist. Then again, this wouldn't be the first time a stranger appeared caring for no reason at all.

'Excuse me, who are you?' you asked.

'Oh.' He paused, 'I'm Dean Winchester's assistant, ma'am.'

It was your turn for an "oh".

'I couldn't reach Mrs Stun, so I used the second number she gave me - of Mr Boa Griffith. After yours, of course.'

'Is there a reason why you didn't call me directly, Mr Slay?'

'Part of the reason I called itself,' he said, luckily moving on from Mrs Stun's topic. 'We were supposed to inform you weeks ago, but you'd already changed the course of your ship. May I ask why?'

You had changed the ship's route because Captain Laffitte thought it would be your best option. After the werewolves, twice again, the ship had been attacked. It took your numbers down to fifty from a hundred - even before you'd come to Europe. It was a loss greater than any other Leader had suffered in the past - no one lost as many soldiers as you did in just the travelling. Benny had suggested the change in course because it seemed that the monsters were tracking you instead of discovering you.

It was also why you suggested a night of drinking to the remaining families so that they could drown their miseries and give themselves at least one night of healing.

Maybe that was also why you struck up a conversation with a total stranger - who wouldn't be internally judging your qualities as a Leader. Who wouldn't know you at all, and thus, blame you for no one's death - in his mind, that is - no one dared say it to your face, yet you felt almost sure that you were being resented.

You had just wanted a night of peace. A night of talking about your successful cases, to feel confident again.

'Is it relevant?' you asked, consciously trying to not take a long pause.

'Um, not really.' He seemed to be taken off guard by your tone. 'I guess not, unless it concerns the continent.'

'Doesn't. Please tell me why you've called me.'

'Right,' he cleared his throat, his happiness gone. 'The Irish Sea and the areas around are currently populated by the Leviathans.'

'They're only found in Asia.'

'They spilled over. It's increased the number of monsters on the streets as well. Since you're travelling by road, I'm sure you've noticed.'

You had. You just took it to be your rotten luck that attracted more monsters than possible.

'I see. Why weren't we informed priorly?' you asked sharply.

'The matter isn't to leave Asia or Europe, ma'am. We were waiting for you to step on our land before we told you, unless you had made the journey to the Irish Sea, we didn't see a point.'

'It's been three days since I've stepped on the land, Mr Slay,' you didn't let up.

'. . . That'd be our mistake, ma'am. We were caught up in a case. We figured you might take at least a fortnight before you faced them near your Headquarters anyways.'

Your anger was disarmed by your surprise. 'You were on a case? Didn't you say that you're Lord Dean's assistant?'

'Yes. I'm his personal bodyguard, chief of army, publicist - whatever you'd wish to call me.'

'And you left him to go to a case?' Were the conditions so bad that even the Leader was left unprotected?

'Just for a while. We were on a case together before. Then, he had to welcome Lord and Lady Winchester.'

You frowned. A Leader on a common case? You'd never heard of it before. You'd gone to cases as training, even your brother had gone to cases when he was being raised for his position. But he stopped going when he became the Leader. So would you . . . right?

To not sound like an imbecile, you concentrated on the second half of his reply. 'Mrs Stun informed me of their arrival—' it took extra effort to not let your voice waver at her mention '—is it because of the Leviathans?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

At least that made sense. Such high-profile and most top-secret jobs belonged to the Leaders. 'Will they be dealing with it?'

'As soon as possible. Until then, please be careful.' Again, his sincerity was unfounded. Beyond relaying information, he had no use being caring. Or at least, it sounded like he cared - maybe he was just excellent at pretending?

'Kindly send us a memo of the Leviathans so we know what to expect.'

At the utterance of the monsters' name, a wave of gasps rocked the car. You noticed that everyone was wide awake and listening. You didn't change your expression despite the panic that was mounting in your chest.

'I would send it to your phone, but we think all the Leader phones are being tracked. For sure - the Asian and European ones are. Leviathans are smarter than your average monsters.'

'Duly noted. Send it to this number then.'

'Of course.'

'Very well. Thank you. Goodby—'

'We have one more request to make,' he said quickly. 'We would like to reconsider your invitation to the Debutant Ball.'

The mention of the Debutant Ball somehow surprised you more than the mention of Leviathans.

'Oh.'

'You might remember that Mrs Stun asked for some manpower - for the arrangements. Then extended an invitation. But we RSVP'd no.'

'Right,' you said. You'd forgotten about it. It was so stupid an endeavor that you probably wouldn't have remembered unless someone recalled it for you, or worse case, you showed up at your castle and saw the decorations. 'I remember,' you lied.

'Mr Winchester would like to come. On the condition that no one knows he's there. Even you.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'With the Leviathans so close to Britain, we would like to offer you our security; he'll be personally there to help us gaurd you. But we wouldn't want to expose his location to anyone, so he'll be under a fake name, mingled into the crowd.'

'Do you not trust us, Mr Slay?' it was edged into a snarl. How typical.

'We don't trust the people, ma'am. There'll be many servants milling about and so on. We don't want to risk a sighting and bring down the Leviathans to your post - you're just a harmless human Leader to them right now and we don't want to change that assumption by letting them know that you are sheltering Mr Winchester.'

You were appeased by his explanation. 'That's understandable.'

'Awesome. We'll be a group of five. See you soon, ma'am. Welcome to Europe.'

It must be the fact that your army was travelling in a group of fifty that scared off any group of monsters from encountering you on land; it had been almost a fortnight, and there hadn't been many hurdles.

Inspite of the warning from Sebastian about the monsters on land, you were just happy that you were on land. As much as an unique experience the seas had been - you didn't ever want to travel on them again unless you were strictly required to.

Even your castle was decent. Unkempt, but it wasn't a treehouse you'd embarrass yourself on.

The cars were guided into an underground parking space that had two escalators and two lifts at the centre which would carry everyone up into the castle. The castle itself didn't have main visible doors. You'd just seen it from afar before your car had went underground - it's walls were covered in moss and it had small windows cut into its sides, it had a roof like a hat over the top and it was heavily canopied by old gnarly tall trees. The sea was just a few hours away from the place.

So far, you hadn't met any Leviathans. Sebastian's guess that your group wasn't important enough must be true. Or they are waiting for an ambush, came a warning.

'We are prepared for it,' you told it, under your breath so no one else heard.

You took the first lift up with your team, all of your weapons drawn. No one had seen a Leviathan in real life before. Sal said he'd researched, but hadn't found much. They were Earth's first monsters, and had been banned to Purgatory for the longest time. The files that came from Sebastian didn't have quantitative details, only how to be safe from them - which will be with Borax and temporary decapitation. The permanent solution was apparently only Lady Winchester's business.

You remember your brother vaguely mentiong that Jessica Winchester had taken that job up - he told you this after he returned from one of his Half-Yearly Meets, this one had been in Asia right before Christmas. You'd never attended a meet like that unless you count the time when you were eight and between nannys and your mother couldn't find anyone, so she had to take you.

If your memory served right, you'd met Dean there - just a few years older to you. Your hand absently brushed the scar on your elbow that you'd gotten that night.

The elevator doors opened silently into an elaborate foyer which could hold about hundred and fifty people comfortably at one time. There was only one person in it now - a maid, in her black and white attire, dressed traditionally. Her hair braided too, and no make-up except the blush dusted onto her cheeks. There was a nametag pinned over the strap of her pinafore, spelling "Clara".

'Your Majesty!' she curtsied, pinching the sides of her frock and lifting them gracefully.

'Lady Y/N is fine,' you said. 'Give out your hand.'

She paused in confusion but followed your order. Boa poured the Borax onto her hand, confusing her even more. There was no sizzling, no shock. Everyone from the lift relaxed.

'Told you there was nothing to worry about,' Baz said.

'Can you tell me where the hospital is?' Selina asked. 'There are supplies I'll need after the journey we've had.'

'Yeah, and point me to the labs?' Sal added impatiently.

'One at a time,' you said, raising a hand. 'Baz, bring everyone up. Boa, check rest of the servants in the castle. And whoever is clear, ask them to help Sal and Selina.

'Clara, you're with me.'

'Wh-What are you checking for?' she wondered timidly.

'I'll tell you once we're sure,' you said with a curt non-friendly smile. 'First, we have work to do.'

After a quick tour of the castle by Clara, you were having her update you about the Debutant Ball arrangements. The food, the music, the flowers - it was a fucking migraine. How did Lay ever handle it?

Once the torture was over, you ordered for files on every guest who would be joining you - the Governors and the other Leader.

At that, Clara had produced a rolled up list from her apron. 'But my lady,' with a scowl, 'Lord Dean said no.'

'Right, they changed their mind. They'll be sending representatives. As a gesture of faith.'

She nodded and then she excused herself to work on something. About an hour later, there was a stack of files on your desk in your new room that you would have to learn by the end of the week.

Fun, you gloomily thought as you sat down at your desk for a long night with a cup of joe.

Alien ears, Gov. Yuvan Blunt; Bushy moustache girl, Gov. Sarah Dude; Snake eyes, Gov. Hart Hale.

Even as your cheek was pressed to the table, your memorized names wouldn't escape your dreams. You were superficially asleep - not deep enough to realise you were trying to rest and just deep enough that you could have a night terror about the Debutant Ball.

. . . Long nosal hair, Gov. Missen Paw . . .

A large thud rattled the table. You moved faster than thought, your hand shot out from where the noise came and the gripped pen in your hand stabbed . . . a book.

You blinked. Your makeshift weapon had pierced the pages of the weak paperback. Selina peeked from behind her "sheild", lowering her ruined medical journal. She plucked the pen out with more effort that you had used to plunge it in. She offered it back to you.

'Whoever said pen's mightier than a sword, rests happily in their grave,' she smiled.

You snorted, ruffling your hair out of your face. 'It was Edward Bulwer-Lytton,' you spewed. 'I apologise—'

'Don't. I know you tend to jump up from sleep. Why'd you think I was prepared?' she showed you the mutilated book which she then threw in the trashcan beside your new desk.

You grinned sheepishly at her. Your eyes drifting to the barricaded, weathered window. You could only make out that the sun was rising on the horizon, and it made your heart sink.

To distract yourself, you eyed the pile of books that Seilna had dropped on your desk.

'Do I have to read those?' you asked hopefully. Reading meant escaping reality, it meant learning new facts like Edward Bulwer-Lytton.

'No,' she said. 'These are for me. I'll be keeping you company while some handmaids play dress-up with you.'

An involuntary groan leaves you. 'Right now?'

Selina had a sympathetic press to her lips. 'You have to be ready in the next three hours to welcome the first guests.'

You'd forgotten about that. You had been so anxious for an evening of pretending and dancing with other people who would be pretending and dancing just as much - that you forgot you had gate duty all day until you had to redress for the Ball.

'If it makes you feel better, I'm taking on Mrs Stun's load of socialising,' she warily checked the books she'd brought. You just then realised that they were from Mrs Stun's collection on politics and extrovertism. 'Would you mind if I borrowed your notes?'

Your "notes" comprised of names and accomplishments, strengths and weaknesses - basically résumés of the permanent governor staff - while you enjoyed books, learning about Governors was menial.

Selina, luckily, wouldn't have to learn all of it - just skim over the material that you had spent days compiling and learning. Just like she would only have to skim over the political books. Your team had redistributed Mrs Stun's work until you found a better candidate. None of them looked forward to the evening (except Baz).

At least they knew what you went through now. You empathized with them.

You sighed. 'Sure, Ms Doll. Mind though, I envy you.'

Some of her amusement returned. 'Why?'

Because you were to stand the whole day in six inch heels that you hadn't broken in, in a sweltering humid forest, in a puffy gown from hell, with your fakest smile glued to your face - greeting Governors, mostly men who were supposed to fucking court you. If all these bureaucratic brats weren't enough, there was always the hanging sword of the Leviathans. Even worse - your Leading partner was going to show up without you knowing who he is.

It wasn't like you hadn't reaserched Dean Winchester this past week. You just didn't have any photos of him. He was apparently camera shy. You would only know him, if you knew him. And once someone met him, apprently, they wouldn't forget him because he's not only one of the legends of your planet, but also very hot - or so they say. It was just frustrating to not know his face.

'Lady Y/N?'

You snapped out of your thoughts. 'Yes? I . . . What was I saying?'

She smirked. 'Never mind. The handmaids are here.'

Indeed, the door to your chambers had been opened. In marched racks after racks of clothes and servants pushing them, infiltrating the square room that bore no personal possessions sans the tiny duffel of things you actually liked at the foot of the bed which you hadn't slept in because you'd spent every night of the last week on your desk or working downstairs.

Your back and shoulders went ramrod straight, all your resentment melting into a fake tranquil expression.

Let the daymare begin, you braced yourself.

Sebastian said, tying his tie: 'She doesn't seem very . . . nice,' he made a face. 'She won't be happy about you using her location to keep tabs on Lord and Lady Winchester. Especially when they warned you not to be there . . . It'll be like deceiving Lady Y/N.'

'We live in constant war. If she's happy, she's mad,' Dean said, fixing his own collar in the mirror he was sharing with his best friend, ignoring the comment of the Asian Leaders.

'Hey, I'm happy!'

'Exactly,' Dean grinned. 'You're mad.'

That earned him a slap on the shoulder.

The boys moved in tandem, dressing up in their treehouse, just an hour away from the Western Headquaters. They had been in the area for almost three days, but didn't want to show up before time. They were stopped at the only reststop they will have before reaching the castle, and now they were dressing up. Per code, they needed to look sharp.

Dean didn't know why he bothered - he looked stupid in a tux (or so was his opinion). But Sebastian would probably chew his ear off if Dean didn't maintain fashion; and Sebastian can nag like an old woman with nothing to lose - it was his superpower.

As he eased his coat on, his mind wandered to his brother and the battle that must be ongoing in the Irish Seas right now - it had been happening for three days, word on the radio was that it would end by the night.

He hated that he wasn't there to take care of his family, and he hated even more that he was going to a party instead. A fucking Debutant Ball, of all the fucking things. A stupid waste of money, if you asked him. But then, he was in the area to be the back-up - that was the best he could do when he was so unwanted.

'Tell me more about this Y/N,' Dean said. He wasn't a fan of research. That was all Sebastian. Dean didn't even bother getting to know most people. But, he would like to be on semi-cordial terms with the Leader he would be working with for who knows how long.

'Oh, you've met her before.'

That gave Dean a pause. His memory didn't give him any clues. 'Really?'

'Long time back,' specified Sebastian. 'At a After-Meet Party, after a Half-Yearly Meet, when you were children. You pushed her off a tree.'

Then, Dean remembered. He'd been thirteen. She had been eight. They'd been playing. And, 'She fell,' Dean corrected, wincing at the reminder, 'Scarred her elbow.' And a few more things, his gut churned with the remenants of guilt. 'Damn, that's her?'

'My sources are never wrong.'

Dean sighed. 'What else?'

'She's the best marksperson of our generation. Decisive, tenacious, good hunter. I don't know anything about her personal life,' Sebastian frowned. 'Either she doesn't have one, or she keeps it strictly private.'

'Kinda like me,' Dean noted.

'I know. I mean, you would think two Leaders who held world-changing potential would flaunt a bit,' he playfully pouted.

'Suck it up,' Dean jokingly said. 'You're only mad because you like that publicity shit.'

'Hey, I just like a good story. People will really inspire from yours, you know? Imagine all the documentaries they will make for children.'

Dean tucked his weapon under his jacket and grabbed the handles of his bag, shifting his hair up in spikes.

He had only one last word to get in: 'You can shoot me when you've shot me.'

The drive itself was meditating to Dean. He could distract himself with songs, drone out Sebastian who attended many calls, only a few of which Dean had to answer to every now and again.

All their pages had been diverted to the castle staff and the special armies back at his own Headquaters. He did feel a little guilty about missing his cases, but this was a well-planned idea to be near his family - shall they need him at all.

When he pulled up into the packed parking lot, his two cars were immediately guided towards a few reserved spots - requested by Sebastian.

As planned, one of his men, Dakota Fanning, would be in the centre. Sebastian and Dean would flank him, followed by Reed Sed and Raya Slim (the only girl of the group). She was there only because she was an excellent fighter, the rest of the men were for the purpose of not singling Dean out as the Leader.

Everything was practiced.

Except for what actually happened.

They'd taken a lift up. When the doors opened, he hadn't expected the shortness of breath that came to him when he met her eyes . . .

Ms Heart.

Dressed royally in pastel colours and gloves that crossed her elbows. Jewellery and make-up so perfect that she might as well have been an angel. Her hair in carefully messy piles atop her head that didn't suit her naturally. Her smile was as fake as ever, but it flatened when she saw him too, almost as instantly as him. Her eyes were raw to him, and his heart made a giddy jump - before it slowed in disappointment: he was about to find out who she is.

Dakota stepped forward with a hand. She seemed to snap out of her shock and promptly presented it. Dokota kissed her glove while bowing, and she curtsied.

Dean didn't like it; it was all just so make-believe.

'Dakota Fanning,' Dean's personnel introduced.

Her eyes strayed to Dean's in wariness and he thought he saw her swallow. She didn't want him to know her name either.

Despite his knowledge that names would ruin their vague familiarity, he still held his breath when she said it.

'. . . Leader Y/N L/N.'

Not a stranger anymore, Dean thought, bittersweet.

It earned you another bow from the whole group this time (and a curtsy from Raya).

No wonder you were so artificial. You were a Leader too . . . Like Dean.

'I'm Sebastian Slay,' Dean's assistant said. 'We talked on the phone.'

You gave a slight nod. The same response you gave to everyone until it was Dean's chance.

'Gary Plant,' he said, as rehearsed.

Your brows furrowed as if you were trying to figure out if he was lying again. Bemused, he raised his eyebrows playfully at you. You seemed to gather yourself.

'If you would please follow Mr Griffith up the stairs, and he would lead you to the rooms you'll have for the night.'

Dean recognised the twins from the other night. One with a scar and one without. The identical brothers exchanged a quick glance behind your back - apparently placing Dean's faces in their memories as well. One of them cracked a smug smile while the other neared you as if he feared your safety.

The happy dude would be the one to guide them all upstairs. Dean stepped around you, the Leader, to follow his team when your voice stopped him.

'Mr Plant,' you said. 'Could we have a word?'

Sebastian spared a curious glance but he didn't make a big deal about waiting for his boss - or it might give Dean's status away. All of Dean's guards uneasily walked away from him, without blowing his cover.

Dean posed a radiant smile himself, tipping his head in the other Mr Griffith's direction who had a sore glare on his face.

'Alone?' Dean asked.

'If you'll come with me,' you agreed.

You were freaking the fuck out. As the towering man trailed behind you to the first empty room you could find - which wasn't for a while - you wondered how many secrets he had divulged to his Leader. Or worse, what if he was the Leader? There was at least a twenty-five percent chance of that.

You knew he had been rich to have been in a five-star hotel. You knew he had to have been some sort of official with how respectfully people had treated him. But how could he be an official of that high a level when he behaved the way he did?

Nothing about his demeanor screamed to you a fucking Leader. Not to mention the most legendry one of all times. The way he's playful, or mysterious. The way he casually flirts. The way he lets his guards down to strangers.

You're not a stranger anymore, came the distressing warning in your mind. He knew you.

And he knows you. A little more than most people in your life did.

You shut the door to a broom closet, locking it behind you. A light flickered on over your head - Mr Smith, or Mr Plant, or whoever the fuck he was, had found a switch for the dangling lamp that gave the room a dim glow.

He had a dazzling smile in place. 'I was hoping to run into you.'

'Why are you here?' you gritted out, holding onto your decorum barely. There was a sense of betrayal underneath the anxiousness.

'I'm here to work,' he said.

'You are here to spy on me,' the accusation left you. The last reaction you had expected, came from him.

He laughed.

Your jaw clenched and you moved swiftly than he anticipated from you in the gown. He was pressed against the wall with a dagger to his throat. His smile melted into something smirkier, resembling cockiness.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' There was an edge of danger lurking to him; like he was still in complete control of the situation.

'Who are you?' you asked, unbudging.

'For now? Gary Plant,' he said.

You couldn't spot any sign that he was lying. 'What does that mean?'

'I'm not going to compromise the position of my Leader just because you feel unsafe,' he said, as if reading your mind. 'Not everything is about you.'

You scowled at him. 'But you just said you were looking for me.'

'I was hoping to run into you,' he repeated.

'Why?' you demanded.

'Work doesn't have to be boring,' he shrugged, unbothered by the cold blade at his addam's apple. 'I can enjoy your company while serving my continent.'

'I don't understand you.'

'I think you're the only one who does,' there was a surprising sincerity you thought you felt. His eyes - you'd never seen them so serious. It compelled you to lower your hand, and step back. It was almost as if his green were controlling you.

'You're playing me.'

He gave you half a smile, stepping up to look down at you from a feet away that made you conscious. Your bonus six inches almost brought you eye-to-eye with him.

'What do you think can I do with your favourite colour or your most embarrassing hunt?' he rationally asked.

Logically, there wasn't a single dent he could make in your reputation by the knowledge he possessed - no one had ever asked you that information because it was irrlevant to life; who cares about pets or birthdays anyway? (You never had an animal and you never celebrated a birthday.)

Spies care.

Love and hate cared about these stupid things.

Why would anyone feign interest unless it was to spy on you? Obviously, this man hated you or something.

You suddenly stepped away from him, pointing your dagger at his chest. He didn't try to lessen the distance but stared at you unimpressed.

'Why did you ask me those questions?' your voice was sharper, strict with awareness of what all unknown things this man could do to you.

'To get to know you,' he said, tinged with incredulity. 'Lower the weapon, darling. You're making a fool of yourself.'

You scoffed, 'You did make a fool of me. I should've never opened my mouth in the first place!'

'You're not serious,' he said.

'Why else would you want to get to know me?' you snarled. 'You already must have known I was a Leader and you wanted leverage! You were testing me for your Leader. He killed Gordon, didn't he? You all must be here to test me - if I fail—!'

'Are you listening to yourself?' he sharply ran over your irrational rant. It made you tense and flex your daggered hand.

His eyes didn't even flick to the weapon.

'Is it so hard to believe that I asked you those questions because I thought you are attractive?'

Cold-hearted? Yes. Deadly? Of course. Bitch? Behind your back. A fucking snake? Somebody called you that on their deathbed, after you put them there.

You are everything but attractive or beautiful - or whatever this person calls you. Last time you ignored his compliment, because you believed he was trying to butter you up for something. Did he want to know your trade secrets? Does he want insider information to kill your army?

He looks like a Trojan Horse to you: pretty packaging for lethal destruction.

You will not have a man force your gaurds down.

'You are a liar,' you said. 'I can't kill you as it will be offensive to your Leader. But you're still on my land.'

'You hold no power over me,' he said, authoritatively. He seemed to mean it.

You smiled. 'I have no power over my fellow Leader. Since you are only his lackey who threatens my safety . . . .' You yelled then, 'Boa, now!'

Your gaurds poured in to arrest Mr Smith. Contrary to your expectations, he didn't fight. Just like he didn't want to fight you when you told him that you could have him thrown out of the bar. It was like he was respecting your wishes without fulfilling them. You didn't understand him.

'You will regret this,' he growled as your people handcuffed you.

'Tell me your name, and I leave you,' you shrugged.

He stared at you defiantly, looking dangerous even when surrounded by your men. Your fear cemented your resolve.

'Take him, and release him only when they're ready to leave tomorrow.'

'You will regret this, Y/N!' he said over his shoulder even as he walked out, simmering but without fight.

'It's Lady Y/N to you!'

Sebastian was laughing as soon as the guards left him alone with Dean. He was laughing harder than he had in years.

'You got arrested,' he wheezed.

'Not. Funny.'

Dean glared from the other side of the jail. His fingers curled around the cold rusted bars. He wanted to cuff his best friend in the head, but he knew that Sebastian was a step too far.

'This has to be some kind of a record,' Sebastian chuckled, wiping his eyes.

'Look, ha-ha. Can you get me out of here without blowing my cover?'

Trusting you wasn't the problem; the Eastern Leader just thought that Gordon had to have help from someone in the continent - someone who very well may be present at the Ball tonight. Besides helping Sam and Jessica, their motive was to root out the whistleblower - thus, Dean's fake alias. This whistleblower, if he knew Dean was attending, could tip the Leviathans off and hurt this western side of the continent and many innocent Governors along with the temp Leader.

'Why would I do that?' Sebastian snorted.

'Sebastian!'

He raised his hands to placate his boss. 'Even if I make something up - whatever you did, really pissed her off.'

'I didn't do anything!' Dean was close to screaming. He lowered his voice, almost as if he was embarrassed. 'I just told her . . .' he rolled his eyes at himself, '. . . complimented her.'

A sly smile curled on Sebastian's lips. 'You dog! You've slept with her before.'

'What, no!' Dean's cheeks burned. 'I . . . I met her. Once. And . . . we . . . we talked. That's all!'

Sebastian got an unbelievably smug look at that, the opposite of what Dean hoped. 'Oh, my God, you like her!'

'Are we in middle school?' Dean's face was red. 'I met her once, we talked for half a night. It was fun. It's over! Can we focus on the real problem here?'

'Sure.' Sebastian's tone said that it was anything but over. He did as asked though, 'Well, like I told you, she's not nice.'

'I figured that out,' Dean gritted. He wasn't humiliated except for the part where Sebastian tried to talk to him about his feelings. Mostly, Dean was pissed. He was powerless from a fucking cell, and if he blew his cover, he was vulnerable. Somehow, within the five minutes that he managed to freak you out, you had managed to corner him. How the fuck does something like that happen?

How can you both so easily threaten each other? Emotionally or otherwise.

'The best way to earn her trust would be to do nothing,' Sebastian said what Dean had already figured out.

He hadn't felt as helpless, even if it was only for the night, since he was a child. He groaned, 'I hate that bitch.'

Sebastian's answering laugh told Dean that his assistant agreed to disagree.

Appetizers were making you queasy; the idea of Mr Smith consuming and braving the prison food in solitude wasn't treating your stomach right. It was frustrating that Mr Smith's prisonment should bother you. To be validated, you refused to call him anything but "Smith" in your mind because that was the crime he had committed - it was because of that name that you had condemned him - any other rational explanation might make you retract your verdict.

You breezed through political conversations with ease, trying to affirm confidence in every Governor, making them like you by talking to them about their hobbies that you'd learned. Making them feel special as you'd learned all their names, and joking with them into the night. You even danced with quite a few. To your absolute surprise, most of them were pleasant. Charming, even. They all seemed to match a bit of your wit, and your nervousness about working in Europe was slowly waning. Your social battery wasn't draining as quickly as it used to at American parties - none of the men here only saw you as a piece of meat, but they conversed with you as if they knew you had a brain. It was rather refreshing. It was almost like they had respect for you.

Until they decided to court you.

Even with all those positives, almost all of the conversations left you wanting to bang your head against a wall. You rejected everyone, of course - some took it graciously, some seemed to pretend that they hadn't been rejected at all, and some just didn't quit. The last kind was something to avoid.

Mr Smiles-A-Lot, as you called him, or Governor Slander Sail approached you as you finished with the Bulgarian governors. He was the Governor of Switzerland. He bowed, taking your hand and pecking it as you curtsied. He had his famous smile attached to his lips, and it even looked genuine.

'Lady Y/N,' he acknowledged. 'We've heard so much about you.'

'I'm sure it was to warn you,' you joked, applying a bit of charm yourself. 'I'm fairly lethal, Mr Sail.'

'You know everyone's name,' he chuckled. 'Pretty and clever - I don't think they warned us enough.'

You laughed uncomfortably. 'You flatter me. I shall tell you - it will get you nowhere.'

'Maybe a dance will change your mind?'

You shook your head but accepted. He twirled you around gracefully, keeping a respectful distance and leading you well. Soon, you relaxed under the influence of his jokes and infectious laughter. He didn't try to praise you again until the very end.

The song ended, and you stepped away, but he clung to your hand, asking for a second to talk.

'Is it true you're open to court, my lady?' he wondered, taking you to the edge of the dance floor.

You tensed right back up. 'People are allowed to try,' you said, smiling tightly.

He read between the lines. 'I'm sorry,' he let go of you. 'I didn't mean to push you.'

His apology surprised you. Before you could assure him that it was part and parcel of the party, he bowed to you in departure.

'Have a good night.'

He was the first and last man to not hit on you after you expressed your irate. Conclusion, he seemed to be the only decent one.

You happened to overhear the huddle around the radio chatter. It was mostly white noise until the sound of gunshots and panicked responses randomly popped through. The four people from the Eastern Leader's office were listening so closely to it that they didn't notice you until your shadow hovered over them like a dark cloud.

Sebastian was the first to peel away from the walkie-talkie with a grimacing smile.

'Lady Y/N.'

'What's going on, Mr Slay?'

His eyes darted to the room where most people were flocked near the buffet tables next to the dance floor. They were on a secluded table, heads put together.

'We're . . . keeping track . . . of the Leviathan fight.'

What Sebastian won't tell you is that this job had been Dean's who was previously planning to sit in the room with Dakota and Reed. Dean couldn't have come to the party either way because the Governors might recognize him, which is why his job would've been to keep an ear on the whole thing. With him in jail, Sebastian decided it would be best if all the men stuck together so that you didn't get suspicious that someone was trying to free Dean from jail. Which landed them here, listening to the fight on their radio.

'You're eavesdropping,' you icily said.

'Jessica and Sam are going for the neck!' the speaker crackled to life.

Sebastian guiltily winced. 'We can stop?'

He wasn't guilty about listening, he was guilty about being caught. You could see in their eyes that none of them were going to stop. You wanted to scold them for compromising privacy but you paused.

None of the men here had socialised all night; you realised that it was by design so that if any of these men were Dean, then the Governors wouldn't give it away. Even their faces were mostly shadowed at their selected table. They were all only here, listening to the radio, sticking with one another, because they were a man down - because of you.

Plus, Dean's brother and sister-in-law were off to war. You remembered the agonizing wait of not knowing if your own brother would return from his special assignment of Raphael or not. Sympathy thawed your strictness and you decided you could be lenient enough for even Mr Smith to listen in.

'For the record,' you said. 'I was never here. You all excused yourself for an early night but went to visit your friend downstairs instead to listen to "songs" on a radio. I shall be seeing you all off when you leave tomorrow morning,' you ended with a warning.

You marched away.

'I really think you are not taking enough advantage of the open bar, Governor,' you said with a fake smile. You wanted to get this French man's slobbering kisses away from your glove and then you wanted to burn this glove and the dress to signal the angels so they could strike you with lightning or something.

When you were able to shake off the pervert, you escaped the humungous ballroom with two drinks in your hands, hoping to catch a minute to yourself, using the back paths to go unnoticed. You finished your drinks disappointingly quickly and left them in front of the kitchen doors before rushing to the garden you hadn't had the time to explore yet. When you burst out the doors from the side of the castle that allowed everyone to walk over the underground parking, the chill air washed over you. It cooled your flushed skin and gave you time to shudder. You focused on the dense surrounding forest and the land rolling with grass. You could hear the crickets in the night.

You took a seat on the bench against the palace wall, giving yourself a few minutes. You practiced deep breathing and counted to hundred. The buzz from the alcohol made you forget a few numbers, and you could hear Mrs Stun for reprimanding you that you'd overdone it.

Anger like a hot balloon grew in your chest, threatening to burst at your mother - because she was practically selling you as a washed-out Leader - she was having you fix up in a marraige so that when you were let off from your position, you could settle. You tried not to let that insult be personal - it was a rule of your world, all very patriarchal - but your own mother didn't think you would last long.

While you were on that topic, anxiety related to Mr Smith came back. You were sure that if Mrs Stun were still alive, she would scold you for imprisoning him too. She had always been so much better at this than you. She wouldn't have felt insecure enough to arrest Mr Smith - arrest the person who could be the Eastern Leader, and if so, he could make your life hell without doing much.

But if you were talking about insecurities, you also needed to think how you fucking opened up to Mr Smith in the first place. Yes, Mrs Stun would have stopped you right there. No more disasters then. She would never have made the mistake of letting you talk to a complete stranger. That's such bad PR.

It feels like your confidence in your decisions is shaken after she's gone. She used to approve your every move. Now, you have no fucking filter!

You were only a good hunter, a good survivor. It was your job to protect Mrs Stun and her family because that was the one thing you are good at . . . Or maybe you've just been fooling yourself. Maybe you rely too much on your team, maybe that's why you've been floundering without Mrs Stun. If you remove the Griffith brothers, Ms Doll and Mr Syl - you'll be a nobody.

'I can't think like that!' you told yourself, speaking over your thoughts. 'You'll be the best Leader. You're born to be a Leader.' Your affirmations echo what your brother has always told you. You listen to his voice with a deep breath. 'I am a good Leader. I'm a survivor.'

Yeah, you thought. I make good decisions.

You decided to let Mr Slay and team go see Mr Smith, right? Even though you did that out of empathy, it was an olive branch - sort of.

Maybe you could've released Mr Smith altogether. Then again, it would've been a sign of weakness.

'A good Leader trusts her instincts,' you said. Your instincts told you that Mr Smith was a danger, so you heeded that advice. Your instincts told you that he made you weak, so you listened to them. He penetrated all your mental gaurds so he had to go.

And you will stand by your decision and face the consequences because that's what a good Leader would do. A good Leader never admits defeat - they are survivors.

Your reverie was broken with sound of hurried footsteps from the stone corridor. They grew louder until a panting man burst into the subdued moonlight.

'Mr Slay,' you rose, startled.

He swiveled towards the bench. 'Y/N, we need gaurds at the perimeters. And we need to let them in!'

You pursed your lips because he called you by your name, but given how huffy he was, you decided to let that slide.

'Let who in?' you said, calmly.

'The Winchesters,' he said. Your eyes widened.

'Are the Leviathans—?'

'Dead,' he confirmed. 'But the mosters in their support, they need to be fended off - they're chasing the Winchesters back here!'

'How far are they?' you asked, running back with him inside - as fast as your heels and bulky gown would carry you. Your shoes made a dreadful rhythm against the ground, barely keeping up with Sebastian's lengthy strides.

'An hour.'

'Good enough. Get Boa, he has the keys to Mr Smith - or Plant - whatever you call him. I assume he's a good fighter?'

'The best. Prepare some hunters. If we don't dismiss the initial wave of monsters, they can seal us in for days. We need to scare them off.'

You were surprised by his confidence and audacity but you realised this wasn't the time to deal with it. Maybe Dean Winchester's men operated in a different manner, somtimes ordering the Leaders?

'Very well,' you agreed before parting ways.

Gaurds were posted. The Governors pitched in their few men as well, and some even went themselves to the border. Selina requested whoever knew the slightest thing about medical aide to wait back and help - you were in that crowd. Along with Sebastian, and Mr Smith. The Griffith brothers were gone to the gates. A few people like Sal would be the middlemen, bringing the injured in.

When the first line of wounded tided in, the infirmary was thrown into a quickwitted frenzy. The less injured were pawned off to the amteurs like you while the terminal cases went to the surgeons and diagnosticians.

Over the clamour of moans, groans and grunts, over the machines and orders, over the whine of the patient whose hand you were relocating, if you really focused on your listening, you would hear the faint battle cries outside. It took a measure of self-control to not leave the side of your patient; you can fight monsters with ease but saving these lives was harder and far more important right now.

When you were done with the first one, you moved to a simple sprain on another.

You had a moment to sweep your eyes over the room. Sebastian and Mr Smith were a few beds away from you.

Governor Sail flew into your vision when he came to help the bed next to you - he shared a grim smile with you before he discussed symptoms; you didn't have time to think how weird that had been.

You must've passed through three more patients when you noticed a tall six-foot three man stumbling in, head bleeding and feet unsteady, carrying an unconscious woman in his arms. As he fell, you lunged forward to save the woman's head.

'I need a doctor here!' you yelled, your hand flying to the cloth tied around the poor woman's waist. She was bleeding heavily through the cloth; as if she had been stabbed through and through.

'Help!' gasped out the man who seemed more worried about the woman in his kneeling lap than himself. You noticed the wedding bands on their held hands.

'Lord and Lady Winchester!' Raya Slim announced to draw more help in. Reed Sed was on her heels. You realized with no less amount of horror that this was all that was left of the Asian Leaders.

Sam started to tip to one side, and Raya cushioned him with her body - which would have been comical in another situation given the height difference; Sam was almost twice the Raya's size. Reed was more focused on Jessica, he carried her out and onto a bed. You waited to help Raya lift the large man. Even sharing his weight didn't make carrying Sam Winchester easy.

'Sammy!' yelled a familiar voice. Suddenly, the heaviness of Sam was being pulled away from your shoulders and Mr Smith was bodily hefting him.

Their resmblance shocked you even if there had been a twenty-five percent chance . . .

No, no, no - it can't be him!

The green-eyed man carried away Sam Winchester with relative ease. He checked his pulse, he checked for wounds. Mr Smith's hand only came away with blood once - it was a head trauma.

'Somebody help!' another cry shook you out of your denial. 'I need someone who can perform CPR!' it was the snake-eyed Governor Hart Hale who screamed; you went to help him.

You lost count of people you helped. Even as the patients with less injuries lessened, there were more people in cirtical care. You got pulled into a surgery or two where all you had to do was wipe the sweat off the surgeons' foreheads.

Your dress was a mess by the time the infirmary quieted down and your legs felt like they were dying too. You wanted so much to have a seat and drink some water before you passed out and added to the problems of your overworked doctors.

Yet, you swept a glance over the room, making sure there was no one left to help. Your eyes paused on Mr Smith who was pacing Sam Winchester's bedside anxiously. Sam's eyes were shut but he was twicthing restlessly in his sleep, moaning his wife's name now and again.

You hesitated and were about to go over when a large crash sounded from one of the operation rooms; someone screamed bloody murder. You reached the room before anyone else, wrenching the door ajar - your dagger drawn.

A vampire had somehow invaded the room from the nearest window and broke through the safe and sanitized confines of the surgical room, infecting the sterilized area with germs. It had attacked the nearest doctor, slashing through the shoulder of the medic, rendering him useless. The doctor's blood had distracted it and it was ripping into his neck.

You kicked it away from the injured doctor and brought down your machette at its neck before it could do more damage, spraying everyone with its blood.

'Suction!' the lead doctor yelled.

'The patient's crashing!' shouted another.

You kicked the lolling head and body of the monster away from the surgoens' feet, trying to be less of a nuisance to them. You tore a piece of your dress - you'd been doing that a lot to your severely puffy ball gown throughout the night - and applied it to the wounded doctor's neck.

Inspite of quick action, it seemed like the vampire had done its job.

Not only was losing a set of hands for the operation bad, but also, the exposure of the chest cavity to Europe's frigid night air made the stablised patient take a turn for the worst.

Your eyes drifted to the open door where an open-mouthed Mr Smith stared with paralyzing terror at the patient. You mustered more courage to notice the patient's face yourself.

The innocent and peaceful face of Jessica met your eyes - an image that would probably haunt you as much as Mrs Stun.

The doctors screamed orders rapidly, almost incoherently, it seemed to you.

The machine hooked to the woman stilled with a shrill grating sound: Jessica Winchester had flatlined.

All your heartbeats seemed to still with hers for a moment, in solidarity.

The doctors couldn't resuscitate her.

All your hearts began pounding, knowing hers had stopped forever.

The time of death was 10.23 p.m.

It was also at 10.23 p.m. that you saw Mr Smith gripping the doorframe so that his knees wouldn't buckle - and there was no shadow of doubt left in your mind.

This crying man is Leader Dean Winchester.

A/N: Cost of being human is pain, I suppose . . .

{P.S.: I posted a day early because I have a personal emergency and just wanted to get this out of the way today. Hope you guys are having a better day than I am 🙂��! Take care, and please be safe out there ❤️.}

Tag List.

@stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @emma1998sblog

19 notes · View notes

zoropookie · 5 months ago

Note

Hey so uh could we get a soft sweet moment of ynkiss and hhab scara in the orchard I mean always thought they got a poetic vibe to them romantic too idk maybe we got something like that already I don't remember lol sorry if that's the case maybe like resting on each other shoulders or like smth brief like that please please please whenever you have the time make it happen (iam the English not my first person Soo uhm if anything seemed vague sorry also really love your ficss)

Besides the modernity of how the two of them lived, the orchard spreading in longevity. Woven from its threads of a later summer, rows and rows of apple trees standing tall, branches heavy with the vow of their harvests. Air rich with the scent of the ripened fruits they have yet to pick.

Kuni and you walked down the path between the orchards trees, and his gaze drifted upwards towards the sky. He observed the way the light of the sun filters through the leaves while the shadows below them did a dance with the grass. For once in the years that he stayed here, has he realized how peaceful they were. Every gnarled branch of older trees, stretched wide like the arms of an old friend.

The stillness settled in him, eased tension that had been a companion for as long as he could remember. The elation he felt watching you, a few paces away picking apples and gathering them into a woven basket, was similar to a cool weight. You looked ofer, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “Hey! I was getting the red ones ready for sale, but I saved some really good ones for our picnic.”

His lips twitched upward, there was a soft blooming that grew in his chest as he watched you carefully pluck them off the tree. “We’ve never done that.”

“Right? I never realized how many stuff we just don’t do as a couple. Why not start?” Your eyes were bright with a quiet excitement, going back to the task. “There’s nothing for both of us to do today. How many times are we going to get this chance, Kuni?! I wanted to take advantage of it, anyway. What do you think we should get? Do you want sandwiches?”

His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing. “Yeah.” He drawled, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “This is weird. I don’t know how to feel.”

“You could feel grateful,” You suggested, your eyebrows rising with a slight tilt of your head. “Maybe…elated that I’m an amazing partner? That’s so willing to do things for you? Unfathomably?”

“All of the above…” He felt disjointed watching you, almost trying to gauge you actually having a genuine outlook on him. It was still unbelievable, he couldn’t properly articulate what was happening right now. Especially from how uncomfortable he was. “But stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

He paused, struggling to find the right words. “That. The prepping for the picnic, you’re supposed to let me do all of it. I’m the provider.”

Your eyes dulled. “I can help too.”

“You don’t do it like I do.” He watched you, severely skeptical but softening with every word. The way the light caught in your hair while it was swaying from the leaves. The sincerity in your eyes— it disarmed him from anything else. If they were to be in severe danger, he’d be too enamored to pay attention. “Alright, but only because you’re working hard.”

“Does it make you nervous? You barely have anything to say right now.” You asked, your tone playful.

“Yeah.” He walked closer to you while you’re picking apples, holding your waist as his eyes stared at your back with internal longing. The feeling of an adoration was warm and unfamiliar, but with the foliage and greenery of the garden around the two of you, you looked royal to him. “I’ll adapt with you if you plan on putting some more weight in.”

“I don’t know about all that, I still know my place here.” You said with a dull tone.

#zoropookie #♡ hhab asks #hhab archive

25 notes · View notes

sageandred · 5 months ago

Text

This is a bit long, but my thoughts on Carlos/Season 5:

Gonna say something controversial, but Carlos' storyline has been foreseeable for a long long time now and the show has been laying the groundwork as early as season 1.

Carlos being a ranger and "following in his dad's footsteps" has been hinted at since the first season, and definitely in the works since his investigative journeys with Grace and the missing girl when his boss tells him he should take the Detective Exam. This isn't surprising. Carlos in "Bad Call" was shown to have good instincts and his dad couldn't admit to it (for protocol reasons), but they were shown at a point of contention for their differing work tactics and disagreeing on the kidnapping case with TK. And maybe Carlos "never wanted to be a ranger" and this goes against his beliefs — I get it, but I've always viewed it as he was scared and becoming a detective was inevitable. The moral compass of the Texas Ranger angle and his dad having potentially corrupt actions on his record is interesting and will definitely be a point they address for Carlos either going down a bad path or being conflicted within his rank.

I've had thoughts on this relating to a different topic, but there's a lot of storytelling they could do with Carlos taking on the same title as Gabriel. Could Carlos struggle in this position either with corruption and tough decisions or because following his dad ends up being "too big of shoes to fill"? Could he become so obsessed with the investigation that he loses himself completely and his morals along the way before he pulls himself back? Will Carlos' career upgrade actually make him an even better "officer" and be more fitting of a job calling for him where he challenges the history of the job and sticks to his belief system? This is obviously a connection to Gabriel and his motivations for doing it will come out upon the premiere, but he still has the opportunity to make his own path if he sticks with the title by the end of the season.

Another controversial take, I need to get off my chest: Gabriel and Gwyn's deaths were necessary and narratively vital to progress the characters Here's the thing with Gabriel: he and Carlos did not have a good relationship; they were on the path to mending (..kind-of), but they didn't see eye-to-eye and Carlos' hurt from his coming out was/is still present. I don't really see how they could keep him alive without sacrificing some of the deeper exploration into Carlos' progression and insight to his character. They already set-up the "Carlos, you and dad got along so well" narrative that he doesn't remember via his sisters.. This is important. I've always seen Carlos as viewing Gabriel as a strict father and (with 4x18's knowledge), he didn't fair well as the only son (who's also gay). Carlos is going to have to revisit some childhood memories and the memory of his dad and I don't think he would ever come to some conclusions without the death. Tbh, some mending and epiphanies only come in grief and Carlos realistically probably would never feel close with his dad the way he should've or have untainted views re: his upbringing without the event happening. He will probably feel closer to his dad and come to see Gabriel's personal perspectives & truths more than he ever has, if I'm right about the storytelling.

Lastly, I wanna talk about tarlos and their differing inputs on kids, or uncertainty for the future. I think it's cool that Carlos is shown to lean towards not wanting and they settle to desiring to be together in their own way in the end. If Carlos never has a definitive desire.. cool! I think they'll be fine and the story will be an uncommon on-screen representation of where it works out. However, as someone who's more leaning towards not wanting kids, I don't really think that's Carlos based on what he's said. It seems to me, Carlos has concerns about being a father AND being like his father that hinder him from feeling comfortable about this (no hate to Gabriel; again I think Carlos' experience of growing up conflicts to Gabriel's perception of being a parent and how others' viewed them together). The fact that the kids conversation happens in season 4 means the writers knew they were going to kill Gabriel off at the end of the season and were well on their way to setting up the story they're trying to tell for the audience. I know if Carlos grows fond of parenting or he has a new conversation with TK about his thoughts, there are going to be some people that say he "changed his mind" when the story is laid out evidently from where I'm watching.

Stories are set up with purposes that have beginnings, middle, and ends that you can usually tell where they're going once you make it so far in the journey. And you can predict this with every well-known character that I even just implied yesterday that Wyatt would struggle as a dispatcher, because that makes sense narratively (with what we've seen from him in the past), and when Grace is absent, he's the only option that makes sense to take her position rather than someone random (from a show-development point of view).

#i'm tired of seeing negativity ahead of the final season of the show #911 lone star #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #wyatt harris #911 ls #gabriel reyes #911 ls s5 #911 lone star season 5

33 notes · View notes

nerdybee123 · 27 days ago

Text

Sweet Dreams

Aged up, pro-hero AU angst & fluff

Summary: Bakugou finds himself with a soft spot for healing hero yn but when she gets hurt, he struggles with his feelings and vulnerability. Will he avoid her and his feelings or work on things? If there’s anything left to work on…

TW: nightmares, swearing

word count: 1.1k

*PT 1*

A/N: A little OOC for Bakugou but in my head he has all these emotions, just doesn’t verbalize it. He is also aged up and has grown over the seasons :)

_________________________________________________________

PT 2. Sweet Dreams

That night instead of nightmares i’m confronted with the next worst thing. Memories turned dreams.

The memory is hazy, the light from the sun infiltrating her caring expression with a cunning hint in her eyes “We make a good team” her sly statement is not lost on me.

“We’re not a team, h/n. We never will be” I say firmly, the tone filled with persistence rather than anger. She keeps her gaze on me, growing a playful smile that reaches both ears.

“C’mon Katsuki, we make the perrrfeeect team. You blow things up, I save people. What more could you need?” I drop intertwined in my fingers, feeling cold sweat begin to build in my palms. Slowly looking up at her with a scowl you could see a mile away, her tone fills me with anger. I admire the way she gambles with me, determined to test me. The silence becomes thick and foggy making her more visibly unsure if i’ll take the bait or scream at her to leave.

“Fine. You don’t suck at your job.” I spit, she won the gamble today. She nearly yells from excitement, something I’d dare call cute; if I thought it of course.

“You really mean it?” She exclaims coming closer to me rapidly. My eyes are still on her, nearly afraid of what she’d do if I removed them. In one fowl swoop she sits across from my desk, and shoves her face inches from mine. “I’ve tried so long to impress you Katsuki, do you really mean that? I don’t suck?!?” her words leave her mouth so quickly, if I wasn’t familiar with Izuku’s ramblings I would’ve never heard a thing. I can feel her warm breath on my face. She is so close.

For the first time I noticed a lining of faded freckles along her cheeks. The half dimples she portrays when grinning like an idiot. The pieces of her hair that don’t fit in her tightly pulled pony. The way her hero costume holds her closely. I notice the way my heart dares to beat.

“Don’t go that far with it, yn. I never said you were good.” I scoff, hoping she’d back off. Clearly not getting the hint, she keeps her golden gaze, no, stare right at me.

“Works for me!” She states, sitting further back in her chair giving me enough relief to breath. She loses the smile slightly looking more forced then before.

Why? I loved the way she smiled so wide as if it could jump off her face due to its sheer size. She carried this light with her everywhere, making everyone nearby just as cheerful. It was sickening, all these people being happy.

If she was the sun, I was a storm cloud. Always ready to howl, ready to strike. She provided warmth, a chance to grow. I caused rain everywhere with me. Yet she looked at me in admiration, yearning for my acceptance like a school child.

She reminds me of Deku, that idiot. His attitude, insight and dedication creating worlds of possibility for everyone in his path. The same attributes that hurt him, the same ones that carry a body littered in scars.

These types of dreams, memories, they hurt worse. I can feel her warmth for a minute, then lose it to my own insanity. If only the dream ended there, rather my subconscious won't let go of the grip she has on me.

Another memory.

Her heads cocked, as she watches me worriedly. I must have been staring off, again. “C’mon silly, you said you’d help me carry some stuff in.” The points of her mouth only slightly upturned. A comforting feeling swelling in my hands, just to glance at her hand in mine slightly pulling me towards the door I don’t immediately recognize. Her place.

I scoff, “don’t call me that, it’s a shitty nickname.”

“Fine, murder explosion blah blah blah, can you just help me?” growing a small pout. I nod, and she begins dragging my arm again, scurrying down the stairs of the apartment building. I can’t see it, but I can feel the sense of happiness radiating from her. I miss the feeling of her hand in mine, one I know so well. The only touch she ever gave me yet it was strong enough grab a hold of my heart and refuse any relief.

Eventually we reach her car, she let’s go of me and looks up with eagerness in her eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” I can’t help but be confused by the question.

She clicks a button on her keys, the trunk pulling itself up automatically. Just barely underneath I can recognize the color of my face, my hero costume and as it opens more, and eventually the art you would see on a hero poster. The kind kids beg for leading up to Christmas, then hang all over their walls to their parents' dismay.

The shock. I can still imagine the feeling in my stomach. The sudden drop that only butterflies could fix. She mumbles on about helping with production and it being available to the public soon but her words don’t reach me. The kindness, thoughtfulness. The way I look just right. As if she knows what Katsuki Bakugou is supposed to look like.

In that moment I can only mutter a thanks.

But the memory turns from a memory into a dream. What a cruel thing our imagination can be.

In this fictitious play I pull her in tightly and hold her body close to me afraid to ever let go. I put one hand behind her waist, the other holding a tuft of soft hair pushing her head into my chest. She gasps lightly before squeezing me gently, nuzzling in exhaling sweetly. Her pistachio perfume provides comfort like I've never known. An ease fills my body, my brain quiet and still.

I pull away slowly unsure of what i’m thinking. Only sure of what i’m feeling. Before she gets too far I hold her head mere inches away. I see her, for the first time I really truly see her and I refuse to look aside ever again.

The dream ends with a kiss and my long night begins with a gasp for air. The familiar burnt smell of my bedroom brings me back to reality, quickly longing for the sweetness in my dreams. A cold room lacking light and warmth. My subconscious makes it so clear, I long for her. If only I wasn’t so weak, so formidable to the opponent my brain creates for me.

If only I could recognize how I felt then, how I’m struggling to feel now. I need to see her, not just lay my eyes on her but see her for who she is.

#bakugou kastuki #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bakugo fluff

13 notes · View notes

starmatzz · 29 days ago

Text

Chapter 15: Doubled

Treasure Of Utopia

TW this chapter might be a bit triggering for those suffering from emetophobia and anxiety from "not feeling well". I am putting this as a warning as i struggle with these things myself, and had to take few breaks throughout writing the chapter. The sensitive passage starts with red colored paragraph and end with it as well :)

The next morning, the crew gathered back at the dock, as though the events of the previous night had never happened. Hongjoong and his crew made their way back to the ship, their footsteps echoing against the wooden planks. Mingi was already there, standing at the helm, his posture stiff and eyes focused, as if nothing had transpired the night before.

“Captain, um…” Mingi’s deep voice broke the silence, his tone different than usual, more composed but still carrying a weight. “I already prepared the ship for taking off.”

Hongjoong paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Mingi’s expression was unreadable, as if he had returned to his usual role without a hint of the tension from the tavern. But something in the air felt different, and Hongjoong couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Alright,” Hongjoong replied, his voice steady. “Let’s get moving.”

“Wait!” Mingi suddenly called out, his voice sharper than usual. He quickly turned, his eyes wide with a hint of urgency. “I think I forgot my vest at the tavern I went to yesterday. I’ll be right back!”

Before anyone could respond, Mingi was already off the ship, his feet hitting the wooden dock with a thud as he sprinted away, moving faster than Hongjoong had ever seen him. His sudden departure left a strange silence behind, the crew exchanging confused glances.

Hongjoong frowned, his instincts prickling. “That was odd,” he muttered to himself, but he didn’t voice his concerns aloud.

“Let him go,” Yunho said quietly, watching Mingi disappear into the distance. “He’ll be back soon.”

But even as they got ready to set sail, a nagging feeling settled in Hongjoong’s chest, something telling him this wasn’t just about a forgotten vest.

Few minutes later, Mingi came back, and they were back sailing the seas with everything falling into its usual rhythm. The wind filled the sails, the waves gently rocked the ship, and the crew went about their tasks.

Seonghwa twirled in front of Wooyoung, grinning as he showed off the different outfits he had to say 'yes' to, according to Hongjoong; he was the one who happily paid for them after all. “The captain really wanted you to look nice, didn’t he?” Wooyoung laughed, pretending to be a fashion critic, nodding along with exaggerated approval.

At the wheel, Jongho steered the ship with steady hands, his focus sharp. Yeosang stood beside him, intently studying the maps and compass, carefully tracing the path with Seonghwa’s intricate necklace as a guide.

Towards the back of the ship, Yunho and Mingi worked side by side, cleaning weapons and maintaining the cannons. They were quiet for the most part, only the sound of cloth against metal and the occasional grunt breaking the silence. But there was an unspoken tension between them—Mingi had been distant since their conversation the night before, and Yunho couldn’t help but keep an eye on him, wondering what was really going on in his mind.

Yunho stood there, polishing a cannon, his mind swirling with thoughts. He kept stealing glances at Mingi, who was focused on cleaning his weapons, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t like Mingi to be so distant— at least not to him, and Yunho couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

He wanted to ask, to check in, but the words felt stuck in his throat. He had never been the best with delicate situations, and with the tension between them, especially after Mingi’s strange behavior the night before, he didn’t know how to approach it without making things worse.

“Hey, Mingi…” Yunho began hesitantly, his voice quieter than he intended.

Mingi didn’t look up, continuing his task. “Hmm?”

Yunho scratched the back of his head, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know… you just seem different today. You good?”

Mingi paused, finally glancing at him. His gaze was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something Yunho couldn’t quite read. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Yunho stepped a little closer, his heart racing. He knew he should back off, but the words spilled out before he could stop them. “You can tell me, Mingi. You don’t have to bottle it up.”

There was a beat of silence. Mingi’s fingers tightened around the handle of his weapon, and for a moment, Yunho thought he might push him away. But then, Mingi sighed, his voice quieter than before.

“I just… don’t know how to deal with things sometimes,” Mingi said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And sometimes, it feels like I’m alone in all of it.”

Yunho’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he reached out, placing a hand gently on Mingi’s shoulder. Mingi stiffened at the touch, but Yunho didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in, his voice low and full of sincerity.

“You’re not alone, Mingi,” he said, his eyes locked onto Mingi’s. “You’ve got me. And I’ve got you.”

Mingi’s gaze flickered to his, and for a moment, their faces were inches apart. Yunho could feel the heat rising between them, the tension palpable in the air. He didn’t know if Mingi could feel it too, but the closeness—the shared silence—it made his pulse race.

Mingi’s breath hitched, and Yunho almost thought he might say something. But instead, Mingi pulled away, taking a step back, his eyes avoiding Yunho’s.

“Thanks, Yunho,” Mingi said, his voice steady once again, though his eyes were distant. “But I’ve got it handled.”

Yunho didn’t press further. He wanted to, desperately, but something told him now wasn’t the time. He let his hand drop to his side, but the ache in his chest lingered.

“Alright,” Yunho said softly, his voice low with something unspoken. “Just remember, I’m here. Always.”

As Mingi turned away to continue his work, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing between them. But whether it was for better or worse, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward Mingi, and it was becoming harder to deny it.

Suddenly, the bell rang, cutting through the silence and signaling the end of their work for the moment. It was time for dinner. Mingi and Yunho both paused, the tension lingering in the air as the ship’s crew started to move towards the dining area. Meals after a fresh stock-up were always the best—everything was still fresh, and the food was a comforting relief after the day’s work.

Yunho quickly looked away, his heart still pounding from their earlier conversation. He didn’t know what was happening between him and Mingi, but it was harder and harder to ignore the pull he felt.

Mingi, on the other hand, didn’t meet his gaze. He gave a quick nod and started walking toward the dining hall, his shoulders stiff and his steps brisk. The silence between them felt heavier now, almost like there was something unsaid that both of them were too hesitant to address.

As the crew gathered for dinner, the delicious smell of freshly prepared food filled the air. Laughter and chatter broke out among the pirates, but for Yunho, there was an unspoken tension still hanging between him and Mingi. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mingi was really thinking, and if he was starting to notice the shift in their relationship, too.

But for now, all he could do was sit down and try to enjoy the meal, though a part of him couldn’t help but wonder when things between them would change again.

“The good thing is…” Hongjoong said, taking a bite of his steak, a satisfied smile on his face. “We’re closer to the treasure than I expected. If we continue at this pace, we can be there in two days.”

At his words, the crew erupted into cheers, excited murmurs filling the air as they celebrated the news of the impending treasure. The excitement was palpable, and it seemed like everyone was caught up in the energy of the moment. But amidst the laughter and cheers, Seonghwa remained unusually quiet.

He sat at the table, his fork paused in mid-air, his expression distant as he gazed at the food before him. His eyes were not focused on the excitement around him, and his silence felt out of place in the otherwise lively atmosphere.

Hongjoong noticed it almost immediately, his smile fading as he glanced at Seonghwa. “Seonghwa?” he called softly, his voice a little concerned. “You alright?”

Seonghwa blinked, as though snapping out of a trance, and quickly gave a small, tight smile. “Yeah, just… thinking,” he murmured, but his eyes didn’t meet Hongjoong’s. There was a lingering unease about him, a quiet tension that wasn’t typical for the usually cheerful Seonghwa.

Hongjoong studied him for a moment, but before he could press further, the crew’s excitement continued to fill the space. Still, a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on the table, though his mind was far from the meal before him. His thoughts were clouded with an unsettling feeling that he couldn’t shake. There was something about the treasure, something Hongjoong had mentioned in passing, that gnawed at him. He couldn’t quite recall the specifics of why Hongjoong needed him for this particular mission, but he knew it was important. Yet, the way his captain had said it—almost like there was a hidden meaning—left him feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t just the treasure, though. The air around him felt thick, charged in a way he couldn’t explain. He shifted in his seat, feeling restless, as if something was about to happen. The sensation was all too familiar, but it didn’t make sense. His heat cycle had ended only a few days ago, and yet, his body felt off, as if it were preparing for something that wasn’t possible.

A flicker of unease twisted in his chest, and his fingers tightened around the edge of his glass. He tried to push it down, to ignore the instinctual tug, but the feeling persisted, growing stronger. It was as if his body was telling him something he didn’t want to hear, a reminder of how vulnerable he had been the last time he’d felt this way.

His eyes flickered briefly to Hongjoong, but the captain was too engrossed in the celebration to notice Seonghwa’s inner turmoil. He quickly looked away, pretending to take a sip from his glass, though the unease in his chest wouldn’t let him settle.

There was something wrong, something he couldn’t place. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the anxiety kept creeping in, pushing against his walls.

After dinner, the crew began to scatter, some heading back to their duties while others lingered in the dining hall, continuing to enjoy the evening. Seonghwa and Hongjoong, however, made their way to their quarters in a comfortable silence.

Once inside, Seonghwa couldn’t help but breathe a little easier. The tension from earlier had not completely faded, but being in Hongjoong’s arms always provided a sense of comfort he couldn’t deny. As they settled into the bed, Hongjoong pulled him close, his warm body a soothing presence against Seonghwa’s.

Seonghwa closed his eyes for a moment, letting the calm wash over him as he rested his head on Hongjoong’s chest. The steady rhythm of the captain’s heartbeat beneath him was grounding, and slowly, the anxious feelings began to settle, even if they still lingered faintly in the back of his mind.

He ran his fingers over Hongjoong’s bare chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The movement was gentle, almost absentminded, but it soothed Seonghwa, offering a rare sense of peace in the midst of the storm swirling in his thoughts.

“When is your rut coming?” he asked, glancing up at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong, nestled against him, thought for a moment before answering. “In a week, I guess,” he said, his voice low, and he pressed a kiss to Seonghwa's hair.

“Why, worried you won’t be able to handle me?” Hongjoong teased, his fingers gently running through Seonghwa’s hair.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but Hongjoong's mind was distracted by a thought from earlier. “Actually… back in the city, Wooyoung got manipulated by some crazy old lady into buying some special herbs,” he mumbled.

Seonghwa's expression shifted, intrigued. “Herbs?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What for?”

“They’re supposed to help balance ruts… and work on heats too,” Hongjoong explained. “Supposedly, they help with the physical side of things—manage the intensity of it. If they really work, it could make things easier for both of us.”

Seonghwa frowned slightly, still uncertain. “You think they’ll really help?”

Hongjoong nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Seonghwa. “If they’re as good as the lady claimed, we could use all the help we can get. Especially with how… intense things can get between us.”

Seonghwa hesitated, his thoughts swirling. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he said quietly, though a part of him still wondered if the herbs could really do what they promised.

Hongjoong tightened his hold, offering a comforting silence between them.

After a few sweet kisses shared between them, the warmth of Hongjoong’s embrace lulled Seonghwa into a peaceful sleep. The night passed quietly, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull a constant backdrop to their rest.

But as dawn approached, Seonghwa stirred. The sky was still a pale blue, the air crisp with the early morning chill. He woke suddenly, feeling overheated and uneasy. Sweat clung to his skin, and a wave of discomfort washed over him. His body felt wrong, as if something inside was shifting, a heavy unease gnawing at him.

He shifted carefully, trying not to disturb Hongjoong, and slipped out of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor of their quarters. The familiar sensation of the ship swaying beneath him only made the nausea worse, so he quickly made his way to the front deck, hoping the fresh air would help.

The moment he stepped outside, the ship made a sudden lurch, throwing him off balance. His stomach twisted painfully, and before he could steady himself, he rushed to the edge of the boat. A moment later, he was leaning over the side, retching violently as his stomach emptied into the sea below.

The cold air didn’t help; it only made him feel worse. Seonghwa gripped the rail of the ship, trying to steady himself, but the feeling of dizziness and nausea refused to subside. His thoughts were hazy, and he couldn’t quite understand why he was feeling this way.

He stayed at the edge for a few moments, trying to calm his breathing, but his body refused to listen. Something felt off, and it wasn’t just the physical discomfort. The feeling from last night—the one he couldn’t shake—had returned, gnawing at him with an unsettling force.

Seonghwa sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes scanning the vast, open sea before him. The crisp morning air felt sharp against his skin, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm brewing inside him. He needed answers—answers he didn’t have.

Seonghwa’s heart raced as the deep voice broke through his thoughts. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Mingi’s tone was low, and as Seonghwa turned to face him, he saw that Mingi had just finished his morning ship check-up.

The moment their eyes met, Seonghwa felt that strange, uneasy sensation intensify within him. It was as if something in the air had shifted, and he instinctively took a few steps back, his nerves on edge. His mind was clouded, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I just… I am going now…” Seonghwa muttered, his words barely audible, his body already turning to move past Mingi.

But before he could step away, Mingi’s grip closed around his wrist, firm but not painful. Seonghwa froze, his breath catching in his throat. The touch sent a jolt through him, making the uneasy feeling grow stronger, more immediate.

Seonghwa’s pulse quickened as Mingi suddenly pulled him closer, his body pressing against his own with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. The warmth radiating from Mingi was suffocating, and it didn’t take long for Seonghwa to realize exactly what was happening. Mingi was in rut.

A surge of panic shot through Seonghwa. He needed to get away—fast. He was already too close to Mingi, the tension between them heavy and charged. His stomach churned again, not from illness this time, but from a deeper, more primal unease.

Before he could pull away, Mingi’s strength overpowered him, and Seonghwa found himself pushed back against one of the ship’s poles. His breath hitched as Mingi bent down, his face dangerously close to Seonghwa’s stomach. Seonghwa froze, a sense of dread crawling up his spine.

Mingi inhaled deeply, his breath rough and strained. “No way…” he muttered, his voice low and thick with frustration. His grip on Seonghwa’s wrists tightened painfully, making escape impossible. “No fucking way!”

Seonghwa’s heart raced, his mind frantic. Mingi continued to drag his nose along Seonghwa’s belly, the sensation both disorienting and terrifying. The roughness of Mingi’s actions sent a shiver through Seonghwa’s body, his muscles locked in place, too caught in shock to do much more than tremble.

“Stop, Mingi..” Seonghwa whispered, his voice shaky, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The pull of Mingi’s rut was too strong, and Seonghwa was too caught in it to break free.

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat as Mingi pulled back, standing tall before him. The shift in Mingi’s posture was unsettling, his eyes now dark and filled with something Seonghwa couldn’t quite decipher—anger, jealousy, frustration, all mixed into one. It made Seonghwa’s stomach twist in confusion.

Mingi’s voice was a low growl, each word laced with an intensity that made Seonghwa’s heart race. “Not only do I have to endure you and the captain being all sweet,” Mingi spat, his tone venomous, “But now you’re even carrying his stupid pups.” he growled, his canines sticking out.

Seonghwa’s mind went blank for a moment, the words sinking in slowly. It took him a few heartbeats to understand the gravity of what Mingi was saying. The realization hit him like a wave, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

The nausea, the sensitivity to scents..

He had no words. His mind raced, but the only thing he could focus on was Mingi’s accusing gaze, the anger radiating from him. The implication of Mingi’s words—the idea that Seonghwa might be carrying Hongjoong’s pups.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched as Mingi’s words pierced the air. His heart pounded in his chest, the realization of his pregnancy crashing over him in waves. In a different situation, he might have cried from joy, overwhelmed by the life growing inside him—a part of Hongjoong. But now, all he could feel was fear as the alpha in front of him, deep in the throes of his rut, stared him down with dangerously flashing eyes.

“Whatever…” Mingi muttered, his voice low and strained, his movements erratic as his instincts overpowered his reason. “I… I’ll make you carry mine too…” The words were slurred, broken by his ragged breathing, but the intent behind them was clear.

Seonghwa froze, his body trembling as Mingi’s hands moved, groping him with a desperation that made Seonghwa feel trapped and vulnerable. He wanted to scream, to push Mingi away, but the alpha’s strength and sheer presence made it impossible to act.

“Mingi, please..” Seonghwa pleaded, his voice breaking as he struggled against the grip holding him. Panic coursed through him, the fear of what might happen next leaving him breathless.

But Mingi, blinded by his senses and overwhelmed by the pull of his rut, wasn’t listening. His actions were frantic, his grip possessive, as if he was trying to stake a claim that wasn’t his to make.

Seonghwa’s mind raced, his instincts screaming at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. The ship felt too small, the danger too close, and the weight of the situation too much to bear.

“I’m telling you,” Yunho laughed, placing a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder as they strolled from the back of the ship. “The fish was bigger than my arm!” He stretched his arms wide for emphasis, his grin infectious as Wooyoung rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You’re exaggerating again, Yunho—” Wooyoung started but paused mid-sentence as his gaze shifted. His cheerful demeanor faltered, and his eyes narrowed in concern.

Yunho followed his line of sight, and his smile vanished. Up ahead, they spotted Mingi and Seonghwa, and something about the scene felt off—too close, too tense. Seonghwa looked pale and cornered, his body language screaming discomfort.

“Hey!” Wooyoung yelled, his voice sharp as he took off running toward them. His sudden movement snapped Yunho into action, and he followed, his longer strides quickly closing the distance.

The air was heavy with an unspoken tension, and both men knew immediately that something was very, very wrong.

Go to next chapter

9 notes · View notes

the-one-that-weeps · 4 months ago

Note

Hello, here I am coming from the shadows for one last thought since the Nene teaser will prob leave me unconcious for the rest of the month.

I think there is something really interesting and fucked up colorpalet could do with what they're setting up with Rui.

There have been two Main things (that aren't Asahi) that are still unadressed sore spots for Rui :

-Him feeling like he's selfish/greedy

-His insecurity at not helping Tsukasa or Nene in Tsukasa2/Nene4 (for nene4 it was shown in a side card story) (also slightlyyyy hinted at Tsukasa3 ???)

Considering how colorpalet really emphasizes how kind Rui is, what I think could make for Rui legitematly being brought down to his lowest is make him believe that he is the "villain" or simply that he's somehow in the wrong for what he's doing/done.

Sounds like it could be coming out of nowhere but during WxS's training arc there was been a lot of indirect themes of betrayal going on that I think just repeat themselves a bit too much to be ignored especially in Rui4 with the whole "the villain was your friend all along !". People associate this with Sakaki and I kinda do too but it is just like...

You know how there is kind of a trope sometimes of RPG's having one of the team members ending up as the final boss (not common enough to be really a trope but it's something i've seen a lot of times). This is the vibes this is giving me.

It would also fit extremely well with Rui's whole thing of being "the villain" everytime WxS do plays.

It would also fit extremely well with his bloomfes which seems to kind of hint at Rui feeling guilty for being in such a well off/positive situation. I mean Kanade's bloomfes seemed to foreshadow her own path towards what she wants to do so we can assume Rui's bloomfes is there to foreshadow whatever Rui would go through.

Maybe Rui will be influenced by Sakaki to believe his decision during the disbandement arc was wrong/immoral which, I don't think would cause very Great Things. Especially when Asahi is in the background T-Posing.

Anyways going back into the mist cya !

Ohh... Yeah...

Actually I think the conflict from Tsukasa2 has either died down or has just. Joined the overall pile of regrets Rui contains. The conflict that in my opinion could possibly affect him as of now would be the regret about what happened in Mizu5. He was there for a reason and he's one of Mizuki's best friends so that's bound to come up again.

The Sakaki theory seems based to me. I also see the reasons why Rui would start feeling like a bad person again (because it HAS been hinted in the past... Many stories, like you said) but I'm hesitant about what colopalette might do with it because... I really don't want it to look like Rui's just returning to square one? He's grown so much and it's been a really good journey, in his bloomfes he affirms that he remembers the pain of his past and it's not as jarring anymore. He's healing— so unless Colopale takes a very specific route in order to make him feel inadequate again I'm kind of worried if that character development will be erased

I don't mean this in a "he's healed now he'll never struggle with feeling like a bad person again!!!" Way, I mean it in the way that Rui HAS, objectively, learnt new things about relationships while being with wxs. I don't want him to forget all of them. I trust sega will make it good, seeing they did just that with Mizu5 (the fear of rejection is there, but so is the learned truth about Ena's kindness) but still.

I feel like the next Rui events will be very stressful ones. Asahi + Sasaki + all the other wonderful things going on in Rui's life right now basically. Also Rui still hasn't told Tsukasa and Emu about his past and technically no one in wxs knows what happened to him in middle school so... Maybe there'll be a story for that? Not necessarily since Revival my dream was already very backstory focused, but a man can dream

#asks #demo ^^

8 notes · View notes

cnnmairoll · 1 year ago

Text

Energetic Hearts on the Sunrise Path

Pairing : Hairo x Reader Genre : fluff a/n : An old draft, I put Saiki K in my carrd on things I write for but I never actually post my only TDLoSK fic ive written so yeah here it is, just a general idea on what I write, this wont get as much attention as my other fics but it wouldnt hurt to post

In the bustling halls of PK Academy, where the sun filtered through the windows and laughter echoed in the corridors, you found yourself drawn to the whirlwind of energy that was Kineshi Hairo. With his distinctive maroon spiky hair that seemed to defy gravity and those eyebrows that were both bizarre and endearing, he stood out like a beacon of enthusiasm in a sea of students.

Class 2-∭ had a ray of sunshine for a class representative, and that was none other than Hairo. His reputation was built on the foundation of his kindness, his ever-ready leadership, and his unwavering reliability. He had a heart that seemed to know no boundaries when it came to caring for his classmates, and they in turn adored him for it.

And then there was you, the mysterious enigma that Hairo couldn't help but feel drawn towards. One day, amidst the usual school chaos, he approached you with a determination that could rival his tennis matches. "Hey, you! Yeah, you with the amazing presence! I've been watching you, and I think you're incredible. Would you do me the honor of being my partner in life's grand rally?"

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his straightforwardness, his fiery confession leaving you both amused and flustered. But what truly endeared you to him were the moments that followed – the times when his confident exterior cracked just a bit. There were instances when you caught him stealing glances at you, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he quickly turned away, pretending to be busy with some class-related task.

It was during those instances that you realized that even the unstoppable force that was Kineshi Hairo had moments of vulnerability. The class representative who could inspire a roomful of students struggled to find the right words when it came to expressing his feelings to you.

One early morning, the first hints of dawn casting a soft, golden glow across the campus, you were roused from your slumber by a persistent knocking on your door. Groggily, you stumbled to the door and opened it, only to be greeted by a fully dressed and oddly energetic Hairo.

"Hey, rise and shine! It's time to seize the day!" Hairo declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Hairo, what in the world are you doing here so early?"

His eyes sparkled as he flashed a grin. "I thought we could start our day with a morning jog. It's invigorating! Come on, you won't regret it!"

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sighed. "You do realize it's barely dawn, right?"

Hairo's enthusiasm was unrelenting. "Exactly! The sunrise, the fresh air – it's the perfect way to kickstart the day! Trust me."

With a mixture of amusement and surrender, you found yourself changing into your jogging clothes and stepping outside with Hairo. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the world still quiet and serene. As the two of you began jogging along the school's path, the gentle rhythm of your steps echoed in the hushed morning.

After a few minutes, you couldn't help but smile. Despite your initial reluctance, there was something undeniably calming about the quiet beauty of the sunrise and the shared companionship of this early morning run.

Hairo glanced at you, his energetic facade softening into something more sincere. "See, isn't this worth waking up for?"

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his genuine enthusiasm. "Yeah, you were right. This is... actually really nice."

As your relationship with Hairo continued to flourish, you found yourself exploring different sides of each other. One sunny afternoon, you decided to take a break from the usual hustle and bustle of school life and invited Hairo to spend a quiet day at the nearby park. The vibrant greenery and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop as you both settled down on a picnic blanket.

Hairo, who was usually a whirlwind of boundless energy, seemed to be taking in the tranquility of the surroundings. He let out a content sigh as he lay back on the blanket, his maroon hair fanned out around him. "This is a nice change of pace, isn't it?"

You smiled, appreciating the calmness that had settled over him. "Definitely. It's good to have moments where we can just relax and enjoy the peace."

Hairo propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with a thoughtful expression. "You know, I've realized that I tend to get caught up in my own excitement and enthusiasm. It's like I'm always on the go, chasing after the next adventure!"

You nodded, understanding his sentiment. "It's wonderful that you're so passionate and energetic, but it's also important to find a balance. Taking time to relax and recharge is just as vital."

He chuckled, running a hand through his spiky hair. "I guess I need a little guidance in that department. You're really good at finding that balance, aren't you?"

You reached out and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Well, maybe we can help each other. You inspire me to be more active and enthusiastic, and I can help you find moments of calm and serenity."

Hairo's eyes softened, his expression filled with gratitude. "I'd really appreciate that."

As the day wore on, you introduced Hairo to the simple joys of relaxation. You showed him how to lie down and listen to the gentle rustling of leaves, the soft chirping of birds, and the distant laughter of children playing in the park. You guided him through deep breaths, encouraging him to let go of his racing thoughts and just be in the present moment.

Hairo closed his eyes, his features relaxing as he followed your lead. "This... this is surprisingly nice. I never realized how much I needed this."

You smiled, glad to see him embracing the moment. "It's all about finding those pockets of calm in the midst of our busy lives. Just like how you find moments of excitement and energy."

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a newfound sense of understanding. "You're right. It's all about balance, isn't it?"

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, you both shared a quiet moment of togetherness. It was a moment of balance – his boundless enthusiasm met with your serene calmness, creating a harmonious blend that felt just right.

In the weeks and months that followed, you continued to help Hairo find moments of relaxation amidst his energetic pursuits. Whether it was through gentle walks in the park, quiet stargazing sessions, or simply sharing a cup of tea in the school's courtyard, you both learned to appreciate the different facets of each other's personalities.

Your love story was a beautiful testament to the power of balance and understanding. Together, you embraced each other's strengths and weaknesses, and in doing so, you created a bond that was unbreakable – one that could weather any storm and bask in the sunshine of shared laughter, quiet moments, and the unwavering support that came from knowing that you were each other's perfect counterbalance.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #hairo #hairo kineshi #kineshi hairo #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k.#hairo x reader #hairo kineshi x reader #kineshi hairo x reader #saiki k #saiki kusou no psi nan #kineshi x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k

47 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 8 months ago

Text

After the unexpectedly painful showdown with He Who Was, the last thing Rakha really wants to do is go back to Last Light, where Isobel waits, taunting the murderous urge in her head. But... they have Art Cullagh's lute, and if it helps to wake him and points a path towards lifting the curse, that would qualify as by far the best thing that has happened to her in weeks. So she steels herself and walks back in the inn door.

Cullagh is still stretched on the bed where she last saw him, humming feverishly to himself and surrounded by an anxious-looking group of Flaming Fist. Halsin is there too, seated on a nearby bed, and he looks up with an eager smile at Rakha's approach.

"It's true, then," he says, nodding. "He's met Thaniel. There's no other way he'd know that name. This is just what we needed. Well done." He paces a few steps up and down next to the bed. "We need to wake him. He must know something about where to find Thaniel."

It startles her a little, how comforting those words are. Well done. How jarring it is to be greeted with that eagerness, even if it it's just for the news she brings. The encounter with He Who Was buried her deep in a sense of self-loathing hopelessness, but this - like Wyll's fingertips which are resting gently against her elbow - is a flicker of contrasting light.

"I found a lute," she says. Reaching to her shoulder, she unstraps the instrument from her back. (Another interesting thing - she's grown used to the weight of Alfira's, which is of some solider wood, and Cullagh's is smaller and lighter and feels fragile by comparison.) "It seems to have belonged to the Flaming Fist."

"Good," Halsin says, nodding vigorously. "Its music might help restore him. Show it to him."

Pull out the lute you found and play a little.

Rakha brushes her fingertips across the strings. She's suddenly acutely aware that every person in the room is looking at her. She has never performed for an audience. She does not know any songs; the music she produces, if it can be called that, is only sounds that tug at the Weave in specific ways.

And it is different with Cullagh's lute than with Alfira's, like starting all over again. It is tuned wrong, or at least not precisely right; there is a hint of dissonance on the highest notes. It is older, smaller, beaten by use; even its lowest notes have a shinier resonance to them that she is not used to.(*)

She closes her eyes, shutting out the staring eyes, focusing on the sounds, the way the Weave shudders with the chord. The highest note in the chord is slightly too high. She slides her index finger back along the fretboard, listening to the way the chord wavers and shifts with the motion, until it clicks into place--

Light bursts around her as the chord solidifies, and something about that wailing shiver of sound before it found its place seems to call out to the man, for he starts up into a sitting position and his eyes come open, wide and frantic.

"Thaniel!!"

He looks around wildly, blinking at Rakha in the halo of light surrounding her. "He's still trapped there," he says urgently. "He needs help."

"Breathe." Halsin crouches at the man's side, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You've been trapped in the Shadowfell for a century. Take a moment to clear your mind."

(A/N: I get that we're trying to be efficient here, Halsin, but I might have maybe waited a few sentences before dropping the century bomb if you want him to calm down. XD )

Cullagh shivers violently and looks down at his hands in his lap. "A century..." he whispers. Rakha can see the urge to panic struggling up in him - but it loses out to his inner strength, or perhaps to his exhaustion. "You're... Halsin," he says. "Thaniel said to find you. You must help him. Please."

Halsin stands slowly, his eyes bright with eager hope. "I will," he says, nodding. "But I need to know where Thaniel is. If I venture into the Shadowfell blind, I will never find him."

Cullagh swallows uncertainly. "I'm...not sure I can put it into words. The landscape there shifts and changes."

Slowly Rakha sets down the lute, leaning it against the edge of the bed. The glow of the spell she cast with it fades slowly from her skin. She feels somewhat calmer now after the moment of connection with her own magic, and she tries to focus on what the two men are saying.

The Shadowfell. Halsin and Shadowheart have both mentioned it before. The domain of Shar. The source of the power behind the curse - although not, Rakha suspects - behind its corruption. That is Ketheric's by some other means, for He Who Was (it seems) was also a creature of the Shadowfell, and his magic was dark but pure.

Nevertheless... that power is certainly dangerous, corrupted or not.

Let Halsin handle this.

She watches the elf, deeply curious to see what approach he suggests. Is it possible that they are truly on the trail of a way to clear the taint on this place?

"Lavender," Cullagh says slowly after a little while. "Whenever I saw Thaniel, I always smelled lavender."

Halsin smiles. "I can work with that." Suddenly energized, he lifts his eyes to Rakha. "Meet me by the lakeshore. I have what we need to proceed, but I'll need your help. Be ready... this may prove perilous."

----

(*) Credit to @rhysintherain for some ideas I played off of a bit here around Cullagh's lute and Rakha's unique approach to bardic magic. :D

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #time to smack some shadows around!

10 notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think Lucien will end up at Spring or Day? Because most of the fandom is certain he'll end up at the Day Court but I always felt like he'd maybe explore his Day Court heritage but end up at Spring because Day Court already has Helion while the Spring court is in shambles. Also Lucien lived in the Spring Court for a long time so it would make sense if he ended up becoming their High Lord.

I have been turning this question over and over in my head. It's not that I wouldn't love Elucien in Day Court, it would be amazing to see two main characters settled down in a court that we really haven't gotten a feel for. And Lucien wearing that golden spiked crown?! 🥵🔥

But, what would they do there? Lucien has spent the entire series on standby, always second in command to Tamlin or doing work for other High Lords. He's got all this build up to be an amazing leader yet he's been relegated to waiting in the wings. Wouldn't that be more of the same in Day? It could be centuries until Helion steps down and SJM has said she's obsessed with Helion so would she really take him out? Especially with the possible love story that could exist between he and the LoA? If Helion is sticking around then Lucien would once again be right hand to a High Lord in the Day Court, still waiting for his turn to do more. Unless SJM wrote a storyline where the title was always meant to go to Lucien but because Helion became High Lord when Lucien wasn't UTM with the rest of Day, that's why the magic temporarily chose him? Still though, I can't imagine Helion not being a High Lord. So Spring does make the most sense to me for both Lucien and Elain. First, are the people of Spring ever going to trust Tamlin again for him to continue on as High Lord? He's not been able to break free of his depression in order to fulfil his duties so maybe his path forward is not that of a HL (which he never wanted). Maybe he'll join Springs armies instead. I would also think that Lucien having performed in the last Great Rite in the High Lords stead would tie him to the magic of the land. We also know that Lucien is still struggling with Spring not being the home he wanted it to be: "It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him." "There was no tinge of guilt when he told Azriel what he knew. None of what he felt when he looked toward the south - toward both of the courts he'd called home." "I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit." Maybe it's just me but I find it impossible not to think that with Nesta telling us Spring had been "made" for someone like Elain, that Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles and the knowledge that Lucien clearly is upset over having been run out of Spring that they're going to end up in Spring. All those sad feelings Lucien still has when thinking of Spring could be SJM hinting that he and Elain will turn the court into what he once dreamed of it being.

Though I still think maybe it will be Elain that is ""made" High Lord (but Lady) with Lucien standing beside her as acting High Lord (in the way Feyre is High Lady to Rhys's High Lord). Or Elain as High Lady of Spring and Lucien as temporary High King if future ACOTAR books involve some of the High Lords world walking, creating the need for leadership in their absence. That does then lead to the question of what happens when it is time for Lucien to step into his role as HL of Day but say that's something SJM knows won't happen for centuries. It's not entirely impossible to think that by that point, Elucien will have children, one of which Elain will have had a vision of taking over Spring. Or maybe SJM will hint at a future where the system for choosing leaders becomes more of a democracy. There's a lot of things she'll need to account for regardless of which direction she goes but I do think (regardless of what I like the idea of best), Spring makes the most sense. Thank you for the thought provoking question!

#elucien #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #helion acotar #acotary theory #pro lucien vanserra #high king lucien #lucien acotar #pro elain archeron #elain archeron

22 notes · View notes

ibijau · 2 years ago

Text

AO3 is down, I’m depressed, it’s too hot, so let me offer you distraction in the form of lxc having transmigrated into his favourite novel only to make everything worse /o/

[edit] AO3 is back so this got posted there too

It could only be a quick visit, since Lan Xichen had so much to take care of these days. Really, back home, this visit could have been replaced with a few texts, or maybe a phone call for a touch of warmth… But there were no phones in this world of course, and letters were just too cumbersome for a problem like this one. So Lan Xichen had flown to the Unclean Realm… And at least he could fly and reach his destination in just a few days. A sword wasn't as efficient as a plane, but it beat walking or riding a horse by a good margin.

When he landed at the gate of the Unclean Realm, Lan Xichen felt his heartbeat accelerate a little, as always whenever he got to visit a location he particularly loved. Even after so long, he just couldn't get used to it. Sometimes even the Cloud Recesses still had that effect, but much less frequently, since its look was a very classic one, resembling a number of historical places he’d visited back home. Compared to the Unclean Realm's imposing coldness, to Carp Tower's gold and abundance…

"Xichen, you arrived early!" Nie Mingjue barked, coming to the gate to greet his sworn brother.

Lan Xichen smiled. "You made it sound urgent, how could I not hurry?"

"I just said Huaisang is looking sad," Nie Mingjue protested.

"And isn't that the greatest of emergencies for both of us?" Lan Xichen replied.

Nie Mingjue scoffed at that, but he did not directly contradict his old friend, which was as good as agreeing. Not that Lan Xichen needed it confirmed. Between his own observations in this world, and how many times he had read the original work, he knew well that Mingjue's little brother was his top priority at all times, even if he sometimes showed it in a manner difficult to understand.

It had been more obvious in the original story, of course. But Nie Mingjue’s PTSD hadn’t been so bad in the novel, not with Meng Yao to help him through the worst of it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy,” Nie Mingjue explained as they walked together toward the garden where Nie Huaisang would hide whenever he was upset. “He’s constantly moping around, or reading treatises on morality. If it were someone else, I would suspect he’s killed someone and struggles with guilt.”

Lan Xichen chuckled politely.

“I do realise how it sounds,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “I know it can’t be that, he doesn’t have the spine for it. But there’s still something wrong with him, and he won’t tell me what. So I figured… he’s always been more comfortable confiding in you, so maybe you can get the truth out of him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lan Xichen promised, and while Nie Mingjue stopped at the gate of that garden, he walked in.

It was a pretty little place, this garden. There weren’t many flowers, because the soil of the Unclean Realm wasn’t right for it, but bushes and rocks had been arranged with exquisite taste. In the novel, this place had been described as the only thing toward which Nie Huaisang had ever put any effort. It had become the secret heart of the Unclean Realm, the location where many heart-to-heart conversations would take place between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao.

But on that bright morning, only Nie Huaisang was there, sitting on a bench with a book that looked more serious than the light poetry or the elaborate porn he usually favoured.

When he heard footsteps on the path, Nie Huaisang startled and quickly closed that book, even trying to hide it behind his back. But once he recognised Lan Xichen he relaxed and merely put the volume down on the bench as he stood to greet his guest. Nie Huaisang seemed in a good enough mood, better certainly than what Nie Mingjue had hinted at, so Lan Xichen wasn’t too worried for the young man as they chatted a little. And yet when Lan Xichen explained he was there at Nie Mingjue’s request, that his sworn brother was worried for his little brother, Nie Huaisang’s attitude quickly changed. His smile vanished, and his head hung low, like a child caught doing something naughty.

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking about Wei Wuxian a lot since he died,” Nie Huaisang confessed at last, and Lan Xichen immediately tensed.

He never liked to talk about Wei Wuxian these days.

Back in the original version of the story, Wei Wuxian had been a black hearted villain, the too ambitious son of a servant, whose hubris had caused him to turn against the cultivation world in his endless quest for power and revenge. He’d been described as impossibly clever but equally cruel and arrogant, ready to use the worst methods to rise above others, turning against the sect that had taken him in, unleashing undead horrors upon innocents in an effort to conquer the world.

Lan Xichen had found him despicable from start to finish.

He hadn’t been prepared, when Wei Wuxian had arrived at the Cloud Recesses, around the time Lan Xichen had transmigrated there.

Wei Wuxian had just been a fun kid. A bit cocky, sure, as any boy of fifteen could be, but really, really funny too. Lan Xichen had nearly broken character a dozen times when hearing his uncle complain against this most unruly student. Not only that but Lan Wangji, who in the novel had appeared to hate Wei Wuxian at first sight, was discovered by Lan Xichen to be more like a toddler with an angry crush.

And Lan Xichen, newly arrived into that world, filled with sympathy for a boy who couldn’t have been further from a murderous necromancer, had wanted to help Wei Wuxian.

Sometimes, he wondered if that was where everything had gone wrong.

But no, it wasn’t possible. All he’d done was subtly encourage Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to see they could be great friends, and it hadn’t even worked anyway. Surely the changes to the plot had to have come from something else.

"I just can't understand how Wei-xiong became like this," Nie Huaisang sighed. "He wasn't… He really was a good person before, you know. He was! What happened makes no sense, and I keep wondering if maybe… If I had been a better friend… If I’d tried to still be his friend after he left the Cloud Recesses… If I’d invited him and Jiang-xiong here after the lectures, if I’d reached out more after the war…"

Lan Xichen pinched his lips.

It was the wrong time for this conversation. This exact dialogue… Nie Huaisang should have been wondering this before Wei Wuxian died, when the world had been thrown into terrible chaos by him.

Not only was the timing wrong, but it wasn't a conversation he should have had with Lan Xichen of all people. Something so personal should only have been shared with Nie Huaisang's dearest friend, the person he trusted the most to understand such complex feelings, the one who should have been guiding him for years.

Sadly, Nie Huaisang had been robbed of that guidance. Due to Lan Xichen's impact on the story, Meng Yao had joined the Jin sect years earlier than he should have, inadvertently creating a rift between him and Nie Mingjue, the details of which Lan Xichen was only partly aware of, since it did not follow the original plot.

It was a tragedy on several levels. First and foremost because the friendship between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue had been the heart of the story, the driving force behind most of its action. Through the unbreakable bond of their friendship, Nie Mingjue had been able to better govern his own sect and have time to further improve his cultivation, while in return his complete support of Meng Yao had helped the other man overcome every obstacle on his path that his sharp mind couldn’t already defeat. Even when they disagreed on something, they had always found ways to work together, either through compromises or through convincing the other that a certain choice would be detrimental. Lan Xichen had cried his heart out when Nie Mingjue had been killed by Wei Wuxian, when Meng Yao, nearly overcome with grief, had used the pain of that loss as a rallying cry against the greatest villain the world had ever known, eventually defeating Wei Wuxian and cementing his place as a noble hero.

Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao were close friends, confidants, perfect matches, the sort of relationship that could only exist in stories.

Lan Xichen had been thrilled to realise he’d transmigrated into someone lucky enough to be called friends by them, even though he had no illusion that he could ever be to either of them what they would be to each other. He’d always taken this character to be a bit of a third wheel, actually. The original Lan Xichen was someone who merely tagged along and helped support this epic bromance when the plot required it.

And yet, through mistakes on his part, Lan Xichen had torn those two apart. He was still a little confused about what he’d done wrong, truth be told. But certain things had happened that should not have happened, and he’d ended up meeting Meng Yao much earlier than he should have, even contracting a life debt toward him, eventually leading to Meng Yao joining the Jin sect nearly half a decade earlier than he should have. It had created a deep divide between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue.

It also meant that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had much of a chance to truly become close to the person he ought to have loved above anyone except his own brother.

And love really was barely a strong enough word for it, Lan Xichen thought. Reading the original story, he’d always thought there was a certain attraction between Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao, even if by the epilogue they’d both married women. Lan Xichen would not admit to it even under torture, but he’d definitely written fanfiction about these two, and even drawn some fanart here and there. His skill hadn’t been very great, but he’d put all his heart into it, feeling truly passionate about the idea that his two favourite characters might love each other as much as he loved them. To know that he might have ruined any chance of his favourite couple coming together… truly, there were no words for how much it depressed him.

The most depressing part, though, was that as a result, both Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang kept having with him conversations they should have had with each other… like the present one about Wei Wuxian.

“Huaisang, you cannot blame yourself for the choices of others,” Lan Xichen said, hoping his tone was as comforting as Meng Yao’s would have been. “The things that Wei Wuxian has done… Can anyone really explain things like that?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang replied, startling Lan Xichen.

That wasn’t how the conversation went, as far as he remembered. But of course when the conversation happened in the story, Wei Wuxian had just killed Nie Mingjue, and threatened to slaughter every sect over some invented insults against himself.

“He wasn’t that bad,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “And these people, those Wens… If he had a debt to them, then it was right to help them, no? Debts are meant to be repaid. We wouldn't have won the war without Wei-xiong, and if they saved him…"

"We don't know that he was saved by them," Lan Xichen prudently objected, because the original work never did specify the nature of that debt, only hinting that it was linked to Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation. "But I can't say you're wrong either. It sounds like a complicated situation he was in, and I'm not sure what he could have done to keep his reputation and repay his debt at the same time. But that's how life is. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you can't be right. You can only choose in what manner you will be wrong."

Nie Huaisang grimaced at that answer, clearly displeased that Lan Xichen wouldn't commit one way or the other. Before long though, that frown of his turned into the sort of brilliant, mischievous grin that nothing in the original work had prepared Lan Xichen for. It always sent his heart racing a little, which he'd rationalised as being due to Nie Huaisang’s immense cuteness.

"I guess I see what you mean, a little," Nie Huaisang said. "Thank you for taking the time to listen to me. Nobody else ever does."

"I'm sure others too are happy to talk to you. Certainly A-Yao…"

Nie Huaisang shook his head, pouting once more.

"San-ge never has time for me," he lamented, "and when he does, he doesn't really listen. You’re the only one I can talk to like this, and the only one that says anything worth listening to. Er-ge, your way of thinking is really different from everyone, you know?”

“I’m not sure what you mean," Lan Xichen replied, a little startled by that comment. He'd always done his best to act and speak the exact way the original character would have, and nobody else had ever accused him of behaving oddly until that moment.

“I’m not sure either," Nie Huaisang said, still pouting. "Maybe I mean the way you always think well of everyone? But it’s more than that. It’s like your entire way of thinking is completely different. That’s why I can talk to you about Wei-xiong. Everyone else always just said he was too proud for a servant’s son, as if that explains everything, but you've never held that against him.”

“I’m not the only one… Jiang-zongzhu too… and your brother doesn’t look at people’s birth to determine their worth either.”

“Da-ge says he doesn’t,” Nie Huaisang corrected with a dubious pout, “but then he just finds his own reason to dislike the same people as everyone else. Like how he criticises San-ge all the time, and then says it has nothing to do with his mother.”

“I rather think Da-ge finds A-Yao’s father to be his more shameful parent.”

“No, that’s just what you think,” Nie Huaisang replied with an amused smirk. “Da-ge doesn’t like Jin-zongzhu, sure, but he still recognises him as a sect leader and gives him the respect due to one. But you don’t like him at all, and really have to force yourself to act like you respect him, I know that.”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks heated up, ashamed that his disdain had been noticed.

But really, Jin Guangshan had been despicable as a character back when he’d read the novel, and now he was infinitely worse as a person who Lan Xichen regularly had to speak to. In the modern world, Jin Guangshan would have been cancelled a hundred times already. There would be hashtags demanding he step down from power. There would be memes.

So, so many memes.

Sometimes Lan Xichen thought of very clever ones, and lamented that he couldn’t share them with anyone.

“Have I been so obvious?” Lan Xichen asked, worried he might create more deviation from the plot if his dislike was revealed.

Chuckling slightly, Nie Huaisang shook his head.

“Not really. You are fooling everyone else. You’re very good at fooling others, you know. It’s really hard to know what you’re thinking… worse than San-ge, and he’s pretty good at it already.”

“And yet you can guess his thoughts anyway, can’t you?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling fondly.

“Usually, if I’m interested enough,” Nie Huaisang replied, shrugging again. “But he’s always involved in boring stuff, so I really don’t care what’s on his mind. I think it’d be more fun if I could know what you’re thinking.”

Without meaning to, Lan Xichen shivered.

He told himself it was only a reaction to yet more proof that his favourite ship had been ruined by himself. It might also have been because while reading the original story, he’d always had the faint impression that Nie Huaisang was far more clever and observant than the narration really gave him credit for. It had always been a controversial opinion, and Lan Xichen had even encountered some backlash sometimes when he’d dared to share his idea online, no matter how many quotes he used to prove his point.

Nie Huaisang was just a comic relief, they’d point out. He was a fool and an idiot, they’d say. It was already bad enough Lan Xichen drew him to be so handsome when the novel never described his looks as more than ok (and yet he was handsome, much more so than any of the others cultivators Lan Xichen had met since transmigrating), but to claim he was clever was so wrong, a complete disregard for the novel’s text.

So if Lan Xichen’s heart was suddenly beating so fast, it was only because Nie Huaisang’s attitude confirmed his interpretation of him.

“Er-ge, won’t you share your thoughts with me?” Nie Huaisang asked with a smile that might have been seductive if it had been targeted at Meng Yao.

“I fear you’d be very disappointed if you could read my mind,” Lan Xichen replied, fighting to stay in character. “My thoughts are very mundane.”

Nie Huaisang cocked his head to the side, like a curious bird.

“I think that’s not quite true,” he said with a pout. “I think it would be very interesting. I think Er-ge should share more with me, since I’m always sharing with him. I really, really want to understand you, after all.”

“Huaisang…” Lan Xichen started saying, only to stop himself, perplexed to hear how strangled his voice sounded. The real Lan Xichen would never have lost his cool, even when faced with a too playful boy.

Nie Huaisang grinned proudly, as if he’d pulled off a great trick.

“Someday, I’ll understand you,” he claimed. “You’re the only one that still eludes me. Everyone else I’ve figured out, more or less.”

“I did not know you were so obsessed with understanding people,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “Is there a reason why?”

“It’s all Da-ge’s fault,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice losing any flirty tone he’d had to turn whiny instead, something Lan Xichen was far more comfortable with. “He’s always dragging me to conferences these days, and makes me help with taking care of the sect… watching people and trying to figure out how they think is the only fun I get to have! I hardly even get to paint or go birdwatching lately, it’s the worst, it’s just the worst, I’m so miserable!”

Relieved that the conversation was once more what it ought to be between them, Lan Xichen allowed Nie Huaisang to complain as much as he wanted, listening to everything patiently. Sometimes Nie Huaisang said something mean about someone, and Lan Xichen would gently scold him for being unkind. Much more frequently Nie Huaisang would say something unkind and hilarious, and Lan Xichen had to bite his cheeks not to burst out laughing, because his character was too gentle and bland to enjoy that level of pettiness.

After a while, Lan Xichen had to point out that it would soon be time for dinner, and they should go join everyone. Nie Huaisang agreed without enthusiasm, as if he’d have preferred the two of them stayed alone to chat.

“Er-ge, you won’t tell Da-ge about what we talked about, will you?” Nie Huaisang shyly asked as they left the garden. “He just despises Wei Wuxian so much for choosing to betray his sect and to stand with some Wens… He wouldn’t understand why I care about how it all came to that.”

“If I keep the secret, you’ll have to make an effort to act more cheerful,” Lan Xichen replied. “Your brother is really worried about you. He just wants you to be happy, you know.”

Nie Huaisang promised he would try, and smiled brightly as he said so, looking exactly like the charming, harmless young man he was written to be.

Seeing him like this, Lan Xichen couldn’t refrain from smiling as well. He’d made some mistakes in the past, but it didn’t matter anymore. With Wei Wuxian dead, nothing bad could ever happen to any of them now. Peace had returned to the cultivation world, and Lan Xichen was free to act as he pleased.

Maybe he’d even try to make Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao reconcile.

It couldn’t be too late to fix the plot, right?

#jau writes #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #nie huaisang #transmigrator lxc #xisang #if you squint a bit #I have been obsessed with this idea for ages tbh

35 notes · View notes

wolpertinger-prince · 1 year ago

Text

Of Eileen and Zippley: Part Two of a Raytas Continuation

After his encounter with the Beast Fairy, Rayman finds himself struggling to find his friends. But one encounter with a familiar face, as well as a new one, might lead him in the right direction.

Part One

Rayman hoped to never cross paths with Wolpenauct again.

Sure, he felt sorry for them, but something about them unnerved him, almost like Jano did all those years ago. Not to mention how harsh they were. And what was that about calling him the Glade's plaything? Yup, they definitely weren't as warm as, say, Ly or Betilla. Not everyone was going to appreciate him showing them kindness, he supposed.

It'd been a few days since he found his friends missing, presumably captured by Grub and taken back to the circus. Rayman had been traveling by foot nonstop since. He'd yet to see hint nor hair of the traveling circus, or even hear of Rigatoni for that matter. It was possible that they'd left Aeropolis, but did Rigatoni really rebuild his tent so quickly that he could travel that far that fast? Had he been stuck in Aeropolis all this time just as Rayman and friends had been? No, Rigatoni had some of Razorbeard's former henchmen at his side. They knew how to build flying ships from the ground up. Rigatoni and the others could be miles ahead by now.

Gods, this was frustrating! Rayman had no idea where to start or what he was even chasing. And this was assuming Lac-Mac and the others even were with Rigatoni at the circus and not in jail. In that case, maybe he'd gone too far. What if he could've just broken them out of jail earlier? Maybe they'd already been picked up by Rigatoni by now!

Rayman stopped and leaned against a wall to catch his breath. It was times like this Betina would tease him and tell him he sounded like Cookie. Just when he was thinking of the two of his friends was when he saw the short silhouette of a figure that reminded him of Lac-Mac, but smaller. The figure was limping, as far as Rayman could tell in the darkness of the night. Suddenly, a bright light shone on the figure, revealing its orange color, floppy ears, and stripes. The light came from a speeding car that the striped creature was too busy struggling to cross the road to notice.

"Hey, look out!"

As Rayman called to the creature, he rushed to his side. The creature noticed the car speeding towards him too late, letting out a shriek as he was about to be hit. However, just before the car could make contact did Rayman jump in front and push the creature out of the way. The impact of the car sent parts of Rayman flying, his head landing on and rolling off of the car's hood. The car screeched to a halt, the driver quickly stepping out of the vehicle with wide, horrified eyes as she assessed the damage she'd done. Her gloved hand over her heart, she breathed quickly and heavily while noting Rayman's hands, feet, and body dispersed all over the road.

"Oh, gods," she exclaimed, suddenly feeling very faint.

"Hey, it's okay," came a voice.

The driver snapped her gaze towards the hood of her car.

"Over here," uttered the voice again.

The driver stepped over to the other side of her car where Rayman's head lay. Rayman blinked up at her, definitely still alive. Suddenly, one of his hands hovered over and picked Rayman's head up by one of the tufts of his hair. Rayman recognized this now very confused and startled woman as being Grub's date from a few weeks ago.

"Fancy seeing you again," he remarked. "Excuse my appearance."

Rayman whistled and his other hand started to scoop up his shoes. As the hand brought his feet closer, Rayman nodded towards his limp purple body that laid limply several feet away.

"Uh, would you mind getting that for me?" he asked the woman awkwardly.

"Oh, uh… Sure."

The woman walked over to the body and hesitantly picked it up. She couldn't believe she was doing this; first she hit a pedestrian and now here she was putting him back together like some kind of toy! She brought the body back to where Rayman held his head up, once again shocked when the body just seemed to float back into place. Rayman let out a sigh of relief as his hand let go of his head and he "stretched" his feet just to test them out.

"Thanks! That could've been really ugly," Rayman mused. "What's your name?"

"Eileen," the woman answered. "Hey, aren't you that sweet kid that delivered that singing telegram?"

"Yup! Name's Rayman. Hope you liked it."

"Your pitch needs work," Eileen remarked. "But your dance was adorable."

"Thanks! Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Rayman glanced behind himself, in the direction he shoved that creature. The creature was gone, probably having disappeared into the forested area on the other side of the road.

"I gotta find that little guy," Rayman explained as he began to walk away. "He looked hurt."

"Let me come with you," Eileen replied as she followed. "I almost hit him!"

"He couldn't have gone far."

Rayman and Eileen made their way into the woods, quickly spotting the striped creature. He was hobbling his way through, gulping when he noticed the two. He turned around and hissed, showing off his sharp teeth.

"Get back!" the creature exclaimed. "I… I bite!"

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy," Rayman stated as he slowed his walking and put his hands up. "We don't wanna hurt you. We just wanna see if you're okay."

"Okay?" The creature cocked a brow and laughed. "I'm not okay, thanks for checking. You can go away now."

"You could've just said no thank you," Eileen remarked.

"Come on, let us at least look at your leg," Rayman urged, pointing at the creature's limp right leg. "You're not gonna get very far on it."

"I don't need your help," the creature hissed as he turned away. "I've been doing fine all by myself ever since I was dumped out here."

Rayman reached one of his hands up into the trees where he carefully traced the branches until he found one just big enough, then snapped it off. He then handed the branch to the striped creature, who observed it, puzzled, before snatching it.

"Who dumped you?" Rayman asked.

"Henry Antipasti," the creature replied. "I was working for him at the theater… Well, I was more like a slave."

"Hey, that's exactly what happened to me and my friends," Rayman gasped. "Then you must be one of those vuni vuni Wolpenauct told me about!"

"Who?" The creature cocked a brow. "Anyway, I don't know why I'm telling you guys my tragic backstory, but if you know Henry, I'd appreciate you pointing me in his direction so I can have a little… chat with him about how he treated me."

"Wait. Hold on a second," Eileen interrupted. "What's going on? Slaves?"

Rayman turned to Eileen, taking in a deep breath. Boy, this was going to be one heck of an explanation. Who knew if she'd even believe him? Well, it was worth a shot…

"Well, you know that guy you're dating, Grub? Well, he's been trying to arrest my friends and I and return us to this circus," Rayman began. "This Rigatoni guy put him up to it. You see, Rigatoni locked us up, in cages, and forced us to perform at his circus. Now he's got my friends and I have to get them outta there!"

Eileen couldn't believe what she was hearing. They did that? Kidnapped people and made them into entertainment for the masses? That couldn't be legal, surely. Could it? No, something else was wrong here.

"You, too?" she asked, looking at the striped creature.

"Uh-huh," the creature answered with a nod, leaning on the branch Rayman gave him. "All my life, until I got this."

The creature gestured to his bad leg. Eileen lifted her hands over her mouth.

"I don't believe it," she gasped. "I believe you, I just don't believe that someone would do that!"

"I just learned it happens all over," Rayman began. "A Beast Fairy told me creatures from forests get poached all the time. But they're gonna put a stop to it."

"Yeah, they're doing a great job so far," the striped creature remarked sarcastically.

"...But it's up to me to save my friends," Rayman continued, ignoring the creature's remark.

"I've heard enough. I'll help you," Eileen stated, earning surprised stares from both Rayman and the striped creature. "What? I will! Grub will know where this Rigatoni guy is and I can get it out of him. You two can stay at my place until we get to the bottom of this. You must be exhausted, and starving."

"That's really kind of you," Rayman replied, not helping but to think of how great it would be to eat after how long he's been traveling. "What do you think, kid? Coming with us?"

The creature looked hesitant. He didn't want to depend on anyone, but… food did sound good right about now. And he had been sleeping on leaves and discarded cushions for some time now. So, he nodded with a hum.

"And what's your name, sweetie?" Eileen asked, kneeling to his height.

"My name's Zippley," he answered. "I guess I can tag along for now. I've got nothing better to do."

"Then we're a team," Rayman practically announced.

"Alright, Rayman. Zippley," Eileen urged. "Get in my car. It's getting late."

So, the trio made their way back to the car, where they drove back into the city. After the panic he's been through for the last few days, Rayman was just happy not to be alone.

#rayman #rayman the animated series #my writing #fanfic #rayman fanfic

9 notes · View notes

innerpalaces · 10 months ago

Text

THE PRINCESS WEI YANG - 170 PART 1

CHAPTER 170: Eternal Torment

Consort Lian told Tuoba Zhen that Tuoba Yu had set up an ambush at Shizi Ridge to prevent him from returning. Tuoba Zhen sneered, Shizi Ridge? The soldiers had already scouted out the place earlier. The rebel army was located on the right side of the mountain and there were only two paths to go up. The steeper one was the Shizi Ridge, which had the shortest distance. The other, Chengtian Ridge, required a long detour. The news from Consort Lian came so naturally that Tuoba Zhen sneered and said, "Head out for Shizi Ridge."

The steward, Li Ping, was surprised. Tuoba Zhen no longer trusted anyone. Every day, he would only bring along the people his concubine mother had left behind. This time, Li Ping did not trust ordinary guards and accompanied him personally. Although Tuoba Zhen was unmoved on the surface, he was still somewhat moved in his heart. At this moment, Li Ping said with concern: "Your Highness, didn't you say that Consort Lian—"

"Li Wei Yang has already seen through Consort Lian's little tricks.At the beginning, I wanted to dig out something useful from her, but I discovered that Li Weiyang never revealed any important information to her. It had been like this for the past few months. How could such important news suddenly come? There is only one possibility, and that is that Consort Lian's identity has been exposed. Li Wei Yang intentionally sent me false information through her, in an attempt to lure me into a trap. Hmph, this woman is really cunning." In fact, the Emperor's order had been issued so he had to go. In addition, he had prepared in advance and was surrounded by elite first-class masters. There was no need to worry about the other party's ambush. He didn't believe that Tuoba Yu and Li Wei Yang could do anything to him this time.

After Tuoba Zhen left, everyone's carriages drove down the mountain. Tuoba Yu stayed behind, riding his horse beside Li Wei Yang's carriage as if nothing had happened, and whispered: "He indeed went to Shizi Ridge."

Li Wei Yang smiled slightly and said: "His personality is that he is suspicious and rarely trusts others. Consort Lian has never given him useful information. Now, he will naturally think to deeply about it and assume that I am borrowing Consort Lian's hand to intentionally reveal it to him, so he will definitely do the opposite."

There was a hint of coldness in Tuoba Yu's smile, and he said, "I wonder if the princess is planning to watch Tuoba Zhen's outcome?"

Li Wei Yang said thoughtfully: "Yes, how can I rest assured if I don't see him with my own eyes?"

Tuoba Zhen had already walked more than ten miles of mountain road with his hundreds of cavalry guards. He saw patches of green pines surrounded by a few faint red plum blossoms adorning the ground. The snow in the past few days was not heavy, and began to melt as soon as the sun shined. A few hundred meters further through this pine forest is Shizi Ridge.

Tuoba Zhen took the lead as they gradually walked up a mountain road. The terrain became more and more rugged as they ascended and everyone had to be careful to pull the horse's reins and let the horse run as fast as possible. slow. After struggling uphill for seven or eight miles, they discovered that the mountain road they walked along was like a tall round cup upside down on the mountain peak. From the neck to the summit, the cliffs were like sharp blades. The mountain road was very steep, and could only accommodate two mounts at most. Next to it was a very steep cliff that was connected to another mountain range at the front and in the middle was a deep gorge that was several feet wide, and so dark that there seemed to be no bottom.

Seeing this scene, Tuoba Zhen clearly had an understanding of the trecherous terrain surrounding Shizi Ridge, but he still felt a little uneasy. It was like the natural instinct of a wild beast towards danger. He subconsciously looked back and saw a vague feeling of uneasiness on everyone's face. In that split-second, he suddenly thought, if Li Wei Yang was playing tricks on him, had he overthought and been fooled by the other party?

At this moment, there was a sudden bang in front of him, like the sky and the earth were falling apart! Immediately afterwards, the ground rumbled like a small boat bumping in the wind and waves. The horse lost its balance on the ground and staggered backwards, and the mountain wall also started shaking. Huge boulders began to fall from the sky. With great difficulty, he turned his eyes upwards only to see sand and rocks falling, flying dust covering the sky and the sun. Tuoba Zhen shouted, "Quick, retreat!"

However, it was too late. On the side of the cliff above, hundreds of archers had launched an ambush. Taking advantage of the chaos, countless arrows were shot towards the people on the mountain road. Tuoba Zhen originally thought that Li Wei Yang would not set up an attack here. One of the most important reasons was that the terrain of Shizi Ridge was steep. It was difficult for people and horses to navigate, and it was even more difficult to set up an ambush. He assumed that's why Li Wei Yang deliberately induced him to take another path. However, Tuoba Zhen ignored one point. In the northwest corner of Shizi Ridge, there is a cliff with a crack and a peak on the west side shaped like a human thumb, hence the name "One Finger Peak".

Li Wei Yang took used this as an opening to scope out the Empress Dowager's burial grounds. She hired skilled craftsmen to chisel some narrow foot holes on the cliff along the natural crack on the "One Finger Peak". Compared with ordinary mountain roads, this kind of ladder can only be climbed by one person at a time and is more than 20 meters high. Every step when climbing is more and more tense. Every time you take a step, you have to watch carefully. It takes a lot of effort and great courage to climb up from below. All the soldiers used their hands and feet to climb up, lying in ambush on this seemingly impossible road of no return.

In the midst of the chaos, Tuoba Zhen suddenly felt an arrow hit his arm. He endured the severe pain and looked back, only to see countless people running away in disarray and falling off the cliff one after another with shrill screams. There was a faint sound of horse hooves from the bottom of the mountain, as if a massive cavalry was approaching.

"All officers, hear my order. Tuoba Zhen colluded with Sun Chongyao's remnant army in an attempt to ambush His Majesty. Consort Lian was assassinated. His Majesty has issued an imperial edict to capture Tuoba Zhen dead or alive! If there is resistance, he will be executed on the spot!"

As the rocks shattered, Tuoba Zhen heard Tuoba Yu's voice coming from the mountain wind. He was shocked and finally understood that Li Wei Yang was determined to put him to death! What colluding with Sun Chongyao army!? She was deliberately leading him to his death!

Li Wei Yang knew Tuoba Zhen too well. In order to achieve success today, he had left behind tricks in everything. Even if the ambush fails, Tuoba Zhen will never return to the capital!

Tuoba Zhen's side had been fighting fiercely for a long time, and the sound of horse hooves coming from the bottom of the mountain was getting closer and closer. After fighting hard, the wound on his body opened again. He gritted his teeth and tore off two pieces of sleeves, tied them tightly on his arm, and commanded Li Ping in a low voice: "Look for a chance to escape and meet me at the usual place!" Then, he turned his horse, leaving everyone behind, and dashed towards the depths of the ravine.

As he moved forward, countless people behind him screamed in surprise, accompanied by the sound of iron hooves catching up. Several times, a gleaming sword almost came close to his body, but he always narrowly escaped. He turned around and looked back again, only to see that his elite troops were in pieces and running away in all directions. There were corpses and blood everywhere. The armor on the pursuers shone brightly in the sun, almost blinding people's eyes. He hated Li Wei Yang in his heart. He no longer looked back and beat his horse hard. Under the whip, the horse surged forward.

The pursuit behind him became more fierce, and he was almost hit by a stray arrow. However, Tuoba Zhen didn't hesitate at all, and continued whipping his mount. The horse suddenly reached the limit of pain, and let out a long hiss. Four hooves leaped over the deep gorge! Countless horses chased behind him, but they couldn't catch up, and no horse dared to jump over. The soldiers had to rein in and watched Tuoba Zhen reach the mountain road on the other side.

Tuoba Yu quickly caught up to the edge of the deep ravine, but saw that Tuoba Zhen had successfully jumped into the opposite side. The arrow only injured one of his arms. The fierce horse saved Tuoba Zhen's life at the critical moment! His heart sank, and he said sternly: "Tuoba Zhen, you are violating the imperial order by leaving! Why don't you go back with me and admit your mistake to father!"

Admit his mistake? Consort Lian was assassinated, and the Emperor suddenly lost his beloved concubine. There was no way he could forgive Tuoba Zhen. Furthermore, Tuoba Yu had countless crimes waiting for him. If he went back, there would be no chance of him surviving! Tuoba Zhen was extremely angry. At that moment, that dream suddenly came to his mind. He had forced that person to the point of desperation... Today he was also in a desperate situation, and he realized the feeling of losing everything all at once and being plunged into despair! In an instant, waves of fury surged in his heart. He didn't know whether it was the resentment of being forced into a desperate situation or the regret for everything in the past. He only knew one thing clearly in his heart. His dream, the throne that was about to be obtained, was gone and could never be grasped again. Watching the most beloved thing disappear before your eyes is definitely not a pain that ordinary people can bear!

Tuoba Zhen rode on, not even daring to look back and didn't dare walk the trail for fear of being discovered. He ran for an unknown amount of time and finally found a secret road down the mountain. He fought hard against his injuries, but in fact he was already exhausted and was holding on with just his resentment that refused to bow. When he reached the bottom of the mountain, he suddenly felt dizzy and the world spun. Tuoba Zhen felt even more resentful. He took out a dagger, stabbing it into his own thigh to wake himself up and just managed to sit firmly on the horse.

The palace was something he would never be able to return to. Tuoba Yu must have set countless traps for him. When did this seventh brother become so cruel! Yes, Li Wei Yang, she is behind everything! Tuoba Zhen looked at the mountain angrily, with incomparable hatred in his eyes.

On Shizi Ridge, Li Wei Yang saw Tuoba Zhen escaping from a distance, but smiled lightly. Tuoba Yu frowned and said, "You can still laugh, what should we do now?"

Li Wei Yang sighed and said: "He has now become a wanted criminal, so naturally we will try our best to capture him."

Tuoyu Yu frowned more and more. He felt that Li Wei Yang's absent-mindedness seemed very unusual, but he couldn't tell what was off: "What if I can't catch him?"

Li Wei Yang's smile deepened and said: "Your Highness, I have done everything I can, and the rest is all up to you." This means that I have already helped you to this point. Whether you can catch this hidden danger and completely solve it is all up to you.

This was the first time that Li Wei Yang explicitly rejected Tuoba Yu. He was slightly surprised, and his heart trembled. He quickly smiled: "Yes, you have worked hard these past few days. Leave the rest to me."

There was already a hint of satisfaction and high spirits in his smile, and it was obvious that he no longer cared about the down-and-out Tuoba Zhen. Thinking about it, Tuoba Yu may now think that the throne is already under his control. Yes, without Tuoba Zhen, who can compete with him? There was a trace of ridicule in Li Wei Yang's clear eyes, but she just said: "Thank you very much."

Tuoba Zhen escaped from the pursuers and quietly hid his appearance. He wanted to enter the capital and look for opportunities to make a comeback, but he found that there were exponentially more guards in the capital than before. The soldiers were holding portraits and checking each person one by one. Only then did he realize that his portrait had been posted on every city gate in the capital. People were watching and whispering. The Third Prince colluded with the remnants of Sun Chongyao's rebel army to murder the Emperor. However, the Seventh Prince saw through his trick and now the Third Prince was wanted nationwide. Those who successfully capture him will receive a reward of one thousand taels of gold.

A thousand taels of gold, this must be Tuoba Yu's trick. No one in the past dynasties has ever had such a high bounty. Tuoba Yu had only one purpose, leaving Tuoba Zhen with no way out. It's really abominable! Tuoba Zhen thought about it, his identity has been exposed, and there is no way to enter the capital. Tuoba Zhen thought for a moment. His identity had already been exposed, so he had no way of entering the capital. Even if he did enter, whether or not he could contact his old aides wasn't something that could be done overnight. Rather than taking such a risk, it would be better to stay at the side courtyard according to the original plan.

With this thought, he turned his horse's head and headed towards the countryside. On the outskirts of the capital, he has three villas, each of which is exquisite and rich. But now, he can't go to any of these three places. His so-called hiding place is a residence he bought with the help of others. There is a secret courtyard with countless tunnels and secret entrances. Only he knows the map and all the craftsmen who built it have been killed by him. Once he enters the tunnel, he can go directly to the por. If he can leave by boat, no one in the world can catch him. On that ship, he had arranged everything in advance, including manpower, gold and silver. He had also purchased properties and farms in other places, enough for him to carefully prepare to recruit troops and supplies. In five years, he would be able to make a comeback and return to drive Tuoba Yu away.

People say that a cunning rabbit has three burrows. Tuoba is really more cunning than a rabbit. He not only left himself a way out, he also had hundreds of escape routes! For the throne, he had painstakingly plotted for so many years, and this was only a small failure. How could he could he be at the end of his rope just because of temporary depression? As Tuoba Zhen thought of this, he looked towards the capital and sneered. "Li Weiyang, we'll meet again. I hope you won't be too surprised when the time comes!"

But on the way to the manor, he still had to be careful to avoid pursuers. Thinking, worrying, and panicking all the way, until the sky turned pale. Only then did he find a secluded place to sleep for a while. After waking up, he deliberately found a small stream and looked into the water. Surprisingly, there was a trace of white hair on his temples, and he couldn't help but feel extreme hatred. People say that hair can turn gray overnight, but he thought it was just a rumor but it was really true. Only when it was his turn did he realize that this kind of life of hiding for fear of dying will drive him crazy if he's not careful!

At this moment, he heard the sound of a horse neighing. He was startled and quickly hid in the woods. Suddenly he heard a shout from behind him: "Your Highness!" Terrified, he slashed back with his sword. The person's movement was not slow either and he dodged the incoming attack and shouted, "Your Highness, it's me!"

At this sound, Tuoba Zhen was completely shocked. Only now did he realize that the person who had come was his advisor, He Qing, who had been arranged to be at the secret courtyard to meet him. He Jing's face showed a look of surprise, and he said quickly: "Your Highness, this subordinate heard about what happened in Cangling and rushed over immediately! I have been looking everywhere for you, hoping to find you before before the pursuers!"

Tuoba Zhen was about to speak, but he felt his body go weak and he fell down from his horse. He Jing quickly dismounted, rushed over to help him, and said: "Your Highness, change your clothes first, don't be discovered by the pursuers. Hurry!" Tuoba Zhen could be said to be at the end of his rope at this moment. He nodded tiredly and walked aside to change his clothes. At the same time, his eyes were still staring at He Jing warily. In his mind, he really couldn't trust anyone casually, even his most loyal advisers.

He Jing apologized, drew his long sword, and slashed Tuoba Zhen's horse. The horse fell down softly without even neighing. Tuoba Zhen frowned. He knew that he could not leave any clues or leads to anyone at this moment, so he did not stop him. He saw He Jing pushing the horse into the valley to the side, covering up the blood stains left behind, and then Tuoba Zhen dug a hole and buried the clothes he had changed out of. Everything was done with great care and caution.

Tuoba Zhen had been staring at He Jing the entire time, but he was actually gripping the sword tightly in his hand in preparation for eliminating him if he showed even the slightest sign of having other intentions. However, just as he was about to say something, he suddenly saw a flash of cold light that shot straight into He Jing's chest. Tuoba Zhen shouted warily, "Who's there!"

But he saw Li Ping, his face haggard, appearing from a short distance away. He was limping and fell to his knees as he reached Tuoba Zhen's side. He burst into tears and said, "Your Highness, I finally found you!" Tuoba Zhen was surprised, and then he was greatly relieved. In his eyes, Li Ping was certainly more trustworthy than He Jing: "Why did you kill him?"

Li Ping wiped away his tears and said angrily: "The situation at the capital became extremely chaotic. I was shot in the leg by an arrow and was mistakenly thought to have died. I finally escaped, but when I arrived at the hideout, I found that He Jing was sneaking around and had colluded with people sent by the Seventh Prince. So I followed him all this way, hoping to take the opportunity to get rid of him for Your Highness!"

Such a loyal servant, even a cruel person like Tuoba Zhen could not help but be moved. He put away his sword, dropped his guard, took the initiative to come over to help Li Ping, and sighed: "In my entire life, the people I can trust in are only those from my concubine mother's past. As expected, you guys are the most loyal —"

Before he even finished speaking, he felt the tip of a dagger touch his abdomen, and with a slicing sound, the blade cut his entire body, piercing his stomach and being drawn back out. Everything happened so suddenly. Although Tuoba Zhen had subconsciously taken two steps back, he was unable to avoid the knife. At this moment, he didn't even feel any pain. He only felt a coldness in his stomach, and then his whole body gradually became numb.

#the princess wei yang

3 notes · View notes