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delta-pavonis · 4 months ago

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Ficlet: Naga's Boon

For @amielot (Apparently? Like, I started this AGES ago and only have vague recollections of the server conversation that started it... Could I search the Discord? Yes. Am I lazy? Also yes.)

Dreamling AU || rated G before the break, rated E after the break (cw: nagas have hemipenes (two penises, kinda) like all snakes and lizards, but not the more, uh, horrific looking options if you Google it, monsterfucker Hob Gadling, description of non-human genitalia, Hob is a bit of a size queen and a cumslut and we love that for him, Dream has to be restrained during sex for Plot Reasons™️, naga Dream wearing a leather chest harness might be one of the hottest images I have come up with recently ngl)

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"You return." His voice rumbles out of the depths. It may have been more than a lifetime ago, but Hob remembers well His voice.

Hob's immediate vicinity is brightly lit thanks to the high quality of the candle in his lantern and yet the way in front of him still looks like an endless abyss of starless midnight. "Well. Yes. You said that you wanted to know what it was like. That we should meet again on this day in one hundred years. I will keep my end of the bargain, if it provides me this gift."

The susurration of scales along damp stone is amplified by the cave's mouth as He approaches. "You name it a gift? So you still want to live?"

"Oh yes." He nods vigorously enough to cause the lantern hanging from the end of the tall staff he carries to swing.

The light sloshes wildly back and forth between the rock walls, causing a small grouping of bats to hiss and squeak before they take to the air. Hob ducks as they flitter overhead and when he turns back to the inside of the cave He is there.

For a moment it is as if a torso hovers in the darkness, His bone-pale skin almost as reflective as a cat's eyes. He embodies an ideal that only the greatest artists and students of the human form could conceive of... except where hips should dip to thighs and groin, is shadow and fire.

Human-appearing skin gives way to wide horizontal belly scales, each bright flame yellow in the middle fading to ember orange then to ruby red at the edges. Everywhere else, serpentine coils of which Hob sees no end, is the shining black of obsidian.

Hob holds the lantern-staff aside as the ancient naga approaches to within arms reach. He has to look up to meet those hypnotizing eyes, blue-black, just as he remembered. "What must I do," he pauses, breathless, "to keep this boon?"

"You are more than passing brave, Robert Gadling, to return to my lair, apparent promise of renewed immortality or no. What have you been doing for the last hundred years?" He lowers his torso as he speaks, until their faces are more of a height.

"Oh, same as before, soldiering mainly. Bit of banditry now and-wait" Hob's brain catches up with the conversation. "Did you say apparent promise?"

The naga's smirk, the barest curl of rose-pink lips, makes Hob shiver. "Well caught." He shakes his head, long black hair falling over one shoulder, and if Hob did not know any better he would think the ancient creature amused. "Your so-called boon is not subject to my whims nor those of any other. You earned it fairly and so it will not fade until you will it so."

Earned it fairly. What Hob had done was save the life of another naga from a pitchfork and torch-bearing mob. She was dark of skin, hair, and scale, yet this one had called her 'sister.'

"Oh, so I..."

"May leave, if you'd rather."

Hob pauses, bites his lip as he considers his options. This creature must have knowledge beyond his wildest imaginings, stories of things forgotten by most of those alive today. He wants to know more. "And if I'd rather not?" The naga's head shifts backwards on his neck, surprise widening his eyes; that was clearly not an answer he considered possible. "I do not know when you last went and saw the outside world, but I could tell you my story..." He hesitates before adding, "If you would be willing to tell me a bit of yours?"

The naga rushes towards Hob, stopping only a hair's breadth away, mouth open and forked tongue flickering out all around Hob's face, brushing against his forehead and cheeks and chin. Hob is so close that the naga's fangs are visible in his open mouth even though they remain retracted, pulled backwards by thin membranes that glint almost silver in the light.

The tongue disappears into a scowling face, brow drawn in confusion. "You do not smell of lies."

"That would likely be because I am not lying." For a moment Hob worries he has overstepped, been too casual, but then a glimmer of mirth softens the naga's expression.

He nods his head once, accepting the answer. "Then tell me, what has changed in your world since I saw you last?"

So that was as far as I got with the intro. Then there was this bit of gratuitous pornography...

"Hob," he hisses, "I do not think I can..."

"Love," the human soothes, reaching out to grab the naga's neck and pull him up for a kiss. "You can. I know you can hold yourself still. The only way to restrain your smooth body any more than it already is would be to loop hooks into the flesh beneath your scales. And I refuse." Dream whimpers, eyes closed as he trembles. "Just think of the reward, darling. Imagine one of your cocks buried within me, the other gripped in my hands. Think of it."

Hob tries to let some of his own breathless excitement bleed through. Because after seven hundred years of meeting with this gorgeous, awe-inspiring, witty, fascinating creature - not to mention eight decades of being lovers - finally, finally he will have what he has wanted since year two hundred and one: Dream screaming his pleasure as he empties inside him. And Hob is goddamned excited.

Little did Hob know when he first desired this that he would get to have Dream come on him at the same time.

Dream, while equally enthusiastic, is terrified that he will hurt Hob. And he isn't wrong: the majority of his body is a long tube of extremely strong muscle that thrashes around when he is near and at his climax. Hob has watched as Dream has whipped his tail around fast enough to gouge cuts eight inches deep through dragon hide, so he doesn't begrudge Dream's hesitation.

If Hob were another naga their snake-bodies would be intertwined and therefore kept from wild movements by the other's strength. But he is not. So they have had to come up with other options.

Dream's body, both human and snake, is being held down by an elaborate series of straps and chains. On his snake end, which they have found runs a full forty-seven feet in length, are a dozen foot-wide leather collars that tighten around the body if pulled. Each are anchored via chains to iron rings buried deep into the stone of the cave floor. His human form lays on a mattress, but is also held down with a harness that loops around his shoulders and chest and has a very short chain to the floor. He cannot fully sit up, but he can stretch enough to touch Hob as he is riding Dream.

Hob is perched on his lover's pelvis, along the transition from skin to scales. Behind him, three belly scales back, far too low relative to the jut of what appear to be hips to be human anatomy, protrude two slick, gleaming cocks.

Their proportions are also too exaggerated to be human, with a more pointed head that transitions relatively smoothly into the shaft. The shaft is widest at just below its middle, making it shaped almost like a flower bud. At the base of each, right before they connect into a 'Y' shape, are a series of gentle ridges that make Hob groan just looking at them. No part is wider than Dream's hand, so there is no doubt that Hob's body can accommodate.

Hob slides backwards until the two cocks press up against his ass and nudge into his lower back.

While they have never done this specific sexual act before, Hob has sat between the two dicks and rutted back and forth until they both came. It absolutely drenches Hob in cum, both front and back, and Dream takes great pleasure in covering his lover as much as possible.

"You ready, love?" Hob asks as he reaches behind to grab one of the two pricks.

He beams down at Dream, maneuvering so that he sits in the space between the twitching, leaking members. He takes a moment to rock forward, his own cock sliding against Dream's, making them both groan. Then he rises up onto his knees and starts guiding one of Dream's impossible cocks into his body.

Dream stretches and gets one hand on Hob's thigh. "As much as I can be." His voice is steadier than it was before.

Oh fuck, it is better than Hob thought possible, that long gentle taper just gliding into him until it is stretching him open, stretching and oh oh oh!

"Yes! Hob!" Dream snaps his body up as much as he is able, chains clinking as he reaches their limits, popping his prick into Hob to the base.

Hob lets out this long, drawn out wanton noise, more than a moan, not quite a howl; he is so full he almost wants to cry with how good it is.

When he looks down, Dream's chest is heaving, shining with sweat, his mouth open and slack, his lids heavy over dark eyes. He looks like he wants to devour Hob and in that moment Hob probably would let him, if only it kept this glorious prick buried within him for a minute longer.

Hob runs his hands down the cock arcing up between his legs. It twitches into his touch and presses Hob's cock and bollocks against his belly and oh yeah, that's gonna be fantastic. He rolls his hips forward once, rutting himself into those ridges at the base of one of Dream's pricks and lifting him off the other.

Dream hisses, fingers gripping bruises into Hob's thigh, and his hips snap up to fully sheathe himself again inside Hob, making them both cry out.

Hob wants to tell his lover how good it is, but he can't figure out words, so he keeps stroking both his hands up and down the cock in front of him, rolling his hips and fucking himself in time with it, and Dream sobs through it all, but his body eventually picks up the rhythm.

Hob's cum gets smeared all over Dream's cock under his hands and it is only a few more thrusts before Dream peaks, a shriek of unintelligible sibilants, stripes of searing hot white covering Hob's shoulders and neck and the side of his face. At the same time the cock inside him pulses over and over and Hob can feel the spend leaking out of him and down his legs and across Dream's belly.

If Hob had his way this would last forever, but he can already tell he is close, Dream so fucking deep inside him it hits every pleasure spot Hob knew he had and then some. He can hear the heavy chains behind him rattle and groan as Dream's long body thrashes in its confines, attempting to twist and roll. It makes every third or fourth thrust become a wild buck that hits harder than the others and Hob's vision whites out for a moment each time.

The bucking gets more frequent as Dream reaches his own peak, and Hob has already been holding himself back, so once every thrust is one of those uninhibited snaps of Dream's body, he lets himself go. "Dream! I'm gonna oh yessss!"

When he collapses forward Dream's cocks are flexible enough to go with him, still everted and full, and isn't that just lovely. They will retract eventually, out of Hob and all the way back into Dream's body until they invert internally. Perhaps Dream will let Hob fuck into his inverted pricks for a second round.

But that will be later. For now Hob feels their breathing sync as he drifts into sleep.

#Dreamling #naga Dream #monsterfucker Hob Gadling #Pavonis writes #Dreamling AU

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scarredwithcruelintentions · 7 months ago

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chapter 2: the hunted

Find the masterlist here!

W/C: 2,327

A/N: Have a chapter in honor of my new computer!

Astarion spent the next morning as he always did, sitting just outside his tent with a book in hand. Most of the camp was up and milling about, starting their days by breaking their fasts and groggily wishing each other ‘good morning’s. He made sure to stay away from it all, as usual, but watched the proceedings with a keen eye and a great sense of unease. His attention kept flitting back and forth between the ever growing gaggle of his awakened traveling companions and your darkened tent.

He felt a sense of dread inch its fingers up his spine, cold and unyielding, the more time passed without your lively and authoritative presence to command the group of companions. The sun’s reach expanded well over the horizon now, and it was so very unlike you to have a lie in, no matter the circumstances.

Oh gods, did I go too far last night? What if I killed her?!

Just as he prepared himself to go check on you, lest he find you dead at his hand, you popped your head out of your tent. You raised an arm against the onslaught of daylight and blinked blearily, running a hand down your face to dash the sleep from your eyes. Astarion sighed audibly in relief, until your now-focused gaze found him. Dread’s icy grip once again clutched at him, stealing his breath anew.

This is it. This is where I’ll be tossed.

You made a beeline for him, taking care to avoid drawing the attention of the other companions. Astarion slipped into his familiar guise of nonchalance, preparing himself for his inevitable departure. He made to stand when you stopped a few feet from him.

“Good morning,” he began with a coy smile, “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, if a bit woozy,” you waved noncommittally. “And you? How do you feel?”

Astarion’s false confidence crumbled in an instant, blanching at your question.

“How… how do I feel? My dear, I’m not the one that had a leech to their throat last night!”

“That’s rather beside the point, leech,” you giggled. “Now, do you plan on answering me? Or are you simply going to stand there agape like a dead fish?”

“I suppose I feel… well. Superb, even!” he giggled back.

“Wonderful! Any idea how long this will last?” you pointed to your head, no doubt referencing the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

“It’ll pass,” he flicked his hand dismissively. “Just be grateful I’m not a ‘true’ vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self,” he leaned forward, voice hushed, “All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

He heaved a dejected sigh at the reminder.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a smile toying at your lips, “Oh? Any other drawbacks I should be aware of?”

“That’s the odd thing: standing in the sun, wading through rivers, wandering into homes without an invitation - they’re all perfectly mundane activities now, things I never could have done before the tadpole. Seems someone, or something, has changed the rules. If only Cazador were here so I might laugh in his face before I rip it off,” he laughed heartily - then abruptly cut himself short, a shard of terror lancing through his thoughts at having revealed too much.

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, studying him, but did not press.

“Nonetheless, it’s a stroke of good fortune to have a vampire on our side. I meant what I said, I am excited to see you fight,” you intoned softly, dropping your arms.

“Oh yes, and now I can fight with all my weapons,” he responded with a devious smirk, fangs glinting in the bright morning sun. “If I drain a bandit dry every now and again, it isn’t as if they weren’t destined to meet their maker anyway.”

You laughed, loud and full, at his witty remark. He was surprised to find that it stirred a delightful warmth in his chest, a feeling unfamiliar to him.

“I’m just glad you’re being sensible about these… revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks,” he began with a smile, though it was rapidly erased as he noticed the other companions wandering into earshot with a mixed array of expressions.

“Although, there’s still time,” he nodded over your shoulder gravely. He watched intently as your expression hardened and you turned to face the horde.

“A vampire among us? So be it. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel snarled.

“I’d just better not wake in the night to find fangs at my throat,” Shadowheart scoffed with disdain.

“Of course we’re traveling with a vampire,” Gale threw his hands up in exasperation, then pointed at him menacingly, “A word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful!”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and whatever you saw on his face steeled your resolve.

“I trust him,” you said, voice hardened and posture defensive. “Besides, like it or not, we need him. And there’s no need to worry about the safety of your necks. He’s got mine.”

You turned your head and bared his bite mark to your companions. A round of hushed murmurs and surprised faces met your bold confession to his feeding. If he could blush, he would be red from the tips of his ears to his toes in mortification at what your words implied.

“Well, now that’s settled, we should be getting on our way. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, you’re with me. We’re to find the witch, Ethel, today,” you finished with a nod, effectively dismissing the group.

Astarion continued to stare at the back of your head in shock, and you turned to face him again, an inquisitive look adorning the fine features of your face once more.

“I…” he began, but petered out, unsure of what to say.

You snorted and turned to stride back towards your tent, presumably to stock your bag for the day.

He reached out to stop you instinctively and grabbed at your shoulder. You flinched uncharacteristically and froze on the spot, and he ripped his hand away as though scalded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled as you turned toward him again. The look you regarded him with was far icier than before, the lingering warning of a threat still causing your pulse to flutter.

“S’fine,” you mutter. “Out with it.”

“I… just wanted to thank you. Again,” he finished lamely, waving his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Don’t mention it,” you said gruffly, then finally strode away to your tent and began donning your armor.

Puzzled by your reaction, he watched you pack for a few moments too long. ______________________________________________________________

“It’s so unpleasantly muggy in these parts, and there are so many bloody bugs,” he whined, swatting at the air around him.

“Does the big, bad, bitey monster fear a taste of his own medicine?” Shadowheart mocked, deepening his scowl.

“Don’t worry, Astarion. They won’t bite you; you’re dead, remember?” you quipped with a cheeky grin.

Just as a retort reached his lips, you stopped dead in your tracks and raised an arm - a signal to await your command.

“What is it?” he whispered apprehensively.

You hushed him, scanning the sunny fields of wildflowers surrounding the group.

“Illusion magic. This isn’t real,” you murmured. As if triggered by your words, the grassy knolls give way to reveal a bog, fetid with the stench of death and decay.

“Oh lovely!” he chirped sarcastically, “I always did want to rot in a bog!”

You shot a glare at him and signaled the group to continue onward. The change in landscape was drastic; where once there were flowers, now fungi resided, drawing sustenance from the mossy trunks of felled trees. The sunlight had vanished into humid gloom, and the sheep that had been quietly grazing were revealed as redcaps, feasting on the corpses of their victims.

Karlach’s eyes almost bugged out of her skull, raising her greataxe in preparation for a fight.

“Ignore them,” you waved at her. “They think we still see sheep.”

She nodded gravely.

The group continued through the putrid haze of the bog, avoiding the redcaps and picking through half-rotted remains for loot, when they happened upon a man fletching crossbow bolts. Astarion smelled him before he saw him, and a flare of panic shot through him.

The Gur.

He watched you wrinkle your nose as you called out in greeting.

“Ah, stranger!” the man called back, noticing your sour expression. “Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, an old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.”

Against his better judgment, Astarion piped up, “You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised - I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.”

He sneered at the man in front of him, no doubt an errand boy for Cazador, meant to drag him back for judgment at his master’s mercy. What were the odds, a lone Gur hunter this far from Baldur’s Gate? It was surely a message meant for him alone.

“Pardon, but who - or what - is a Gur?” you interjected, posture defensive and coiled to spring.

“A mystical and dangerous people who travel the land, never settling in one place,” the man flourished with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure,” he gestured at Astarion.

Astarion fought the urge to bare his fangs.

“I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer,” the man dismissed, “A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I am no witch doctor or cutthroat.”

“So what monster are you hunting, then?” you bit back.

It was as though Astarion couldn’t help but draw the attention back to himself despite all of the warning bells ringing in his ears, his nerves causing him to prattle on.

“Something terrifying, no doubt! Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” the man scoffed, “I’m hunting for a vampire spawn.”

Astarion felt his face fall in panic and caught your subtle glance in his peripheral vision.

I knew it! Just when things were beginning to look up…

“His name is Astarion, but I think he’s gone to ground. I was hoping the hag of these lands could help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price.”

“And when you find this ‘Astarion’? You’ll, what, kill him?” you asked, subtly lowering your stance in preparation for a fight.

“Not this time. My orders are to capture him,” the man replied, eyeing you more warily by the moment.

“Oh, and bring him where, exactly?” Astarion questioned, trying his best to keep the fear from lacing into his words.

“Baldur’s Gate. My people wait for me there.”

“A vampire spawn doesn’t seem worth the hunt. It’s not like he’s a real vampire,” you added, trying to wheedle more information from the Gur hunter.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” Astarion snarled, unable to help himself at the slight.

Shut up! You’re going to give yourself away!

Astarion’s fingers twitched, longing to feel the familiar weight of his dagger in hand. His mind was racing, addled with the lingering sensations of dread and rage like so many unwanted hands clawing at him, his skin crawled with it.

The man, taking no apparent notice, continued talking to you.

“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage! But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry,” he finished, expression carrying a grave countenance.

Astarion caught your gaze, clearly calculating your next move. Whatever you saw in his face - fear, loathing, fury, he knew not what - made your mind up.

“Interesting, indeed,” you said, holding his eye. “Astarion, what do you think?”

“What? No, it isn’t possible! It’s daylight!” the man exclaimed, looking between you and Astarion.

Astarion ignored the bewildered hunter, a vicious, fanged smile contorting his face as he pulled his dagger.

“I think the hunter has become the hunted,” he growled, and then lunged at the Gur, plunging his dagger hard into the man’s throat.

Karlach gave a great shout of indignation, and Shadowheart gasped in surprise. You, however, did nothing more than cross your arms over your chest, mouth set in a grim line.

With no reaction time to reach for his crossbow, the man stumbled back, pawing weakly at the blade protruding from his neck. A bright scarlet stain spread across the front of his worn doublet, and with a final anguished gurgle, he collapsed into the muck.

“What in the Nine Hells did you do that for!” Karlach screeched at him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words that came were not his.

“He was a threat to our own. He had to be neutralized.”

Astarion looked up at you shrewdly, scrutinizing you for any deception, but found none. Neither did he find any betrayal of disgust or fear in your expression, only wry determination to protect your companions above all else.

“The deed’s done,” you said with an air of finality, looking down at Astarion crouched by the body of the fallen hunter wiping his dagger clean. “On we get to find Ethel, no doubt the hag the hunter spoke of.”

The rest of the group grumbled their assent and started moving, but Astarion was held firmly in place by the look in your eyes. A new kind of anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach.

He could read the many questions held in that one look, and he knew the time had come for further explanation once you regrouped at camp later that night.

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slitherpunk · 8 months ago

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now that i've amassed a following from making shitposts, i can start sharing my Opinions about Video Games! ..ah! where is everybody going with all these torches & pitchforks hehe and why did you all come to a halt when reaching me? ^_^;;

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dani-says-stuff · 1 year ago

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The Art of Distraction

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❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- couldn't wait to bulk post, i'm actually pretty proud of this one

- i didn't end up using the exact line/prompt in the request because it didnt really fit, but it's similar enough for the point to get across

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Nate Hardy x fem!reader

Summary: Based on this request

i tried lol, i dont know if it's as spicy as you were hoping it to be, but i packed it with extra stuff just incase that part came out super cringy.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cringe, suggestive(?), mentions of a haunting that i completely made up for background, very very loosely based on the witch's forest video, inconsistent capitalization, my usual grammar warning... i dont think theres anything bad in here but to be honest i cant really remember

Dialogue Key: Probably dont even need this, but just for consistancy

Y/N

Nate

couldnt really find a great gif for this fic, but i think its funny so im dropping it here.

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It had been a few hours since you had returned home and you'd yet to stop shaking. You'd been on investigations with Nate and the boys in the past, but this one in particular threw you way more than you thought it would.

For the entire car ride back home, the events wouldn't stop rapidly flicking through your mind. Nate's arm resting on the console and his hand softly placed on your thigh did little to ground you as it normally did. The thought of reaching down and intertwining your fingers as you'd done many times before didn't even come to mind, your hands too busy picking at your sleeves to do anything else.

Dark midnight skies barely visible through clusters of twisted curling tree branches.

Thick wooden trunks placed around you like a maze, they all looked the same no matter which direction you went.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel kicking up in clouds behind you, scraping up the backs of your legs from the speed at which you were running.

Branches strewn across the overgrown path splitting and cracking loudly beneath your feet.

Your throat, raw from screaming out to the boys.

Your heartbeat, deafening in your ears.

Nate's one-sided conversation through the duration of the ride back barely made its way to your ears, it felt like you were underwater or your ears were stuffed with cotton.

The only thing you could hear clearly was the memory of your own panicked screams earlier that night.

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It had started just as any other investigation had, and for the first time in a while, it wasn't happening in a building.

The first half of the video held a strangely nostalgic vibe. In the days of a better quality Sam and Colby channel, where they were now able to book the big shot hauntings and go to different countries with loads of equipment, would sit a small video similar to those of their early days.

They were once again investigating an area that wasn't highly publicized, the only ones to know of it being the eager locals with decades of ghost stories to share.

It was said that there was a witch who lived deep within the forest many centuries ago. She dwelled in a quaint cottage where she would practice her spells and hexes... or at least that's how the villagers of the time saw her.

It didn't matter that the woman was in the woods alone because her family had all perished from sickness.

It didn't matter that she was cooking up the same herbal home remedies as everyone else.

When the drought came and wiped out the village crops but the witch's garden in the woods flourished due to the untouched aquifer beneath her land, they were furious.

It was said that they marched upon her house late one night, torches and pitchforks held high, enraged at the witch in the woods. They yelled, taunting her to emerge so they could take her into the small town square. When she refused, they tossed their torches at the structure, laughter overpowering the screams of the woman inside as the house was engulfed in flame.

It was thought to be an old wives tale, the witch deep in the woods brooding silently as she worked on enchantments was hardly anything new. It was simply a story passed down from parent to child in hopes of keeping the energetic children from venturing off too far on their own.

But then they started finding things.

The ruins of a small house, a foundation of stone left behind in the middle of the forest.

Old, hand-made historic brick, placed in a careful circle like the makings of a well.

The bones found throughout the property, most likely scattered by animals and winds over time.

With the influx of people from the small town once again venturing into the forest, it was only natural that the witch would awaken.

So, you all ventured into the woods with no more than a flashlight each, a spirit box, and a REM pod to see if you would be able to communicate with the spirit of the witch that haunted the woods.

When the sun set was when everything went wrong.

The REM pod began going off rapidly, pointing in every direction, no clear responses being drawn from the item. The spirit box chirped to life despite never being turned on, spouting one word.

Run.

Branches cracked from close behind you, startling your group of four to do exactly that.

You made it a few feet when you tripped over something cold and solid, just tall enough to catch the end of your shoe as you ran. Your flashlight tumbled from your hand, rolling across the ground to show two very terrifying things.

One, the lack of the three boys running along behind you, meaning that you had managed to run off in a different direction than they had. You were now completely alone in the forest that was difficult to navigate in a group.

Two, a short stone wall standing before you, encapsulating the leafy floor you were splayed across. You had managed to run straight into the remains of the cottage.

If matters couldn't get any worse, the very thing commonly experienced by those who ventured to this area happened to you. It was said that if you ventured onto her land, the witch would drain the power of your devices and most often—the batteries of your flashlights.

Any sort of light brought near the ruins in the dead of night would be promptly snuffed out, assumingly because of the tragedy that occurred the last time beacons of light were brought to the location.

Your flashlight began to flicker.

Once.

Twice.

And then the light was gone, submerging you completely in the stale darkness of night.

Everything after that was a blur, all you could comprehend were the quick flashes terrorizing your mind.

Dark midnight skies.

Clusters of twisted tree branches.

A wooden maze of towering trees.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel stinging your legs.

Burning muscles.

Overgrown paths.

Panicked screams of both you and Nate as you scrambled blindly through the wood.

Your heartbeat pounding in your head.

Just as it felt like you were running aimlessly then, you felt as if you could make no progress now.

No matter how far you ran—no matter how much time had passed—you stayed terrified.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Both bedside lamps were on as you burrowed yourself under countless layers of blankets and sheets, your body curled in a tight ball. After all, if your blankets are covering you, the monster under the bed doesn't know you are there.

All that peaked out from the fluffy mass on the bed were your eyes, gaze solely focused on the Disney movie you'd turned on moments before, proving to yourself that witches aren't really as scary as they appear.

Good always wins and bad things can't reach you.

Nate entered the room about fifteen minutes into your movie, hair still damp from the shower and one of your favorite shirts of his draped over his shoulders. It was an old T-shirt from who knows how long ago, but it was soft from wear and one of the most comforting things in the world to have pressed against your skin when he pulled you into his chest at night.

His eyebrows furrowed at your eyes, wide and alert, quickly darting to him when he entered the bedroom, "Babe?" he spoke softly, slowly approaching and kneeling down by the bedside, fishing for your hand beneath the blankets, "Are you ok?"

His eyes were sincere and brimming with worry as he looked upon you, gaze scanning over what he could see of you, assessing any damage that may have occurred in the brief time he left you alone.

You nodded slowly, eyes abandoning the movie and choosing to find solace in him instead.

Once deeming you in no worse condition than he left you in, his head moved finally noticing the laptop perched on the mattress and the movie that previously held your attention playing out on the screen.

A teasing smirk graced his features, "Really?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and you somehow managed to descend deeper into your cocoon. Your words were muffled by the comforter blocking the lower half of your face, "I needed to get my mind off of it." Nate laughed quietly at your explanation making you double down out of embarrassment, "I needed something to distract me so I could sleep."

"A Disney movie?" he spoke, equal parts teasing and condescending.

"What?" you whined rolling your eyes at him, "It always worked when I was younger."

He hummed, standing up and plucking the laptop from the bed, quickly shutting it off and placing it to the side despite your protests.

"Well," Nate spoke, waggling his eyebrows at you a few times in order to get you to laugh, "now you don't need 'em."

You raised a single eyebrow, scanning him skeptically, "Why's that?"

"Because," he trailed off, leaning to press a loving kiss to your forehead, "I'm going to be the best damn distraction you've ever seen."

"Oh really?"

He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your nose.

You tilted your head slightly to the side with wide puppy dog eyes staring up at him, not quite getting what he was implying, "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

Nate pulled the covers down to your chin with a soft, lovesick smile, "Like this." he whispered, finally placing a kiss on your lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a warmth flooding your body unlike the one gained from the blankets. This was a warmth that came from the innermost parts of your soul, igniting each and every nerve, setting them on fire.

He slowly peeled back the blankets to reveal your form, arms covered with goosebumps from the stark temperature difference flew up to wrap around his neck the second they were released, fingers sinking into his hair. His own arms swiftly moved around your waist, pulling your bodies even closer as he moved onto the bed hovering over you, never once daring to break the kiss.

The only time his lips left yours where when they moved to trace your jawline and trail down your neck leaving you breathless.

He moved across your skin, leaving a tapestry of red and purple in his wake, painting your skin the same colors as the fireworks dancing behind your eyelids. With your mind focused on him, there was no room to think of anything else, he moved in a way that you couldn't fathom wanting to think of anything else.

His hands dipped lower and lower, teasing beneath the hemming of your sleepshirt and caressing your warm skin.

He leaned back, removing his lips from you after what felt like hours, pupils blown wide and a loving, lustful haze clouding over his eyes.

The only reason he parted was to drag the shirt up off your body with his own quickly following suit to be thrown blindly into a corner, lips hungrily returning to your own the minute the barrier was gone.

He held your attention fully until the sun breached the horizon line, chasing the moon and darkness of night away as it found its rightful place up in the sky. The night was over, any thoughts you had of terrible twisting branches and evil witches dissolved in the light of morning—at least the ones that hadn't been valiantly chased away by your very own knight in shining armor.

You lay in bed beneath the single bedsheet, head resting against Nate's chest as he absentmidedly traced shapes across your back, humming a random melody as he did so. The warm light of day breaching through the cracks of the drawn curtains, bathing your tangled limbs in soft gold.

He was right, you didn't need to distract yourself with the technicolor animations of your childhood. You didn't need to dull your senses with endless hours of princes and princesses saving the day anymore.

Not when you had your very own fairytale sitting right in front of you, ready and waiting to do whatever it takes to give you your happy ending.

With that thought and a sweet smile gracing your lips you closed your eyes, finally able to get some sleep.

#nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #sam and colby imagine #request

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cardierreh15 · 1 year ago

Text

When love finds a way

I do not give any permission to copy or repost my work!

Warnings 18+: Death , Blood .

Pairings: Henry Cavill (Drake/Dracula) x Misty/Mia (Black!plus size female)

Description: The past comes back to haunt Drake in the most strangest way.

Song(s): Time Of The Season by The Zombies

Word Count: 2.9K

One

Shadows casted and danced as one with the candlelight upon the walls. Sweet angelic laughter had filled the air as he nuzzled his pointy nose into her soft warm skin; pampering sweet kisses on her flesh.

A toothy grin had curled on his lips, with a glint of sparkle in his blood pigmented eyes. ‘I really must go now. I told you I’d stay for a glass of wine and one had turned into 4.’

‘Ah,’ He smacked at his teeth and leaned over to grab the neck of the wine bottle, ‘Just one more my love.’ Then he’d reached over and poured a few more ounces into her once again empty glass. ‘I’d wished you just move in with me already.’

The woman wanted to object, but instead she just laughed and looked over at him, ‘If I didn’t know better, Id be thinking you’re trying to get me drunk! And, if we moved in together, I don’t think I’d be able to keep my promise to myself.’

‘And what promise was that my love?’

‘To at least wait a month into our marriage before you put me to bed.’

‘Hmph. You do make it hard to wait.’

The couple chuckled before he looked up at her, ‘And Perhaps I am… or maybe I just enjoy your company that much.’ He placed the bottle back down on the glass table and sat back, ‘We are to spend the rest of eternity together after all.’ He smiled softly.

The woman scooped up her wine glass by the neck and look at the beautiful wedding ring that donned her hand. A hesitant smile curled on her lips before she took a sip of her wine once more.

Drake’s eyebrows pulled into one as he noticed her happy demeanor had faltered some. He sat up and scoot closer to her, ‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts my love?’ He took her hand carefully and placed a gentle kiss upon her diamond.

‘N-no. It’s just that … eternity is a long time. I want to experience life first before … immortality. I want to birth a son, or a daughter—‘

He sighed softly, closing his eyes before, ‘Mia—‘

‘Dracula…’ she said as she snapped her head towards him. ‘You are my husband… is it not your job to give me what my heart truly desires?’

‘Yes but—‘

‘But?’ Her sweet honey brown eyes stared into his.

He broke the eye contact before looking down at her mahogany hands. ‘What if—‘ he swallowed his spit and looked back up at her, ‘What if I can’t? What if all these years have finally caught up with me and I can’t provide you with what you want? What then, Mia?’

Mia placed her small warm palms on his cheeks and pulled him into a sweet kiss. She could taste small remnants of blood upon his lips but it didn’t bother her much. She’d gotten use to the taste in the past year and a half.

When she’d broken the kiss, she whispered against his lips, ‘I know we can. Plus, It is always fun… practicing.’ She giggled.

Drake chuckled as well, pressing his forehead against hers, ‘It is. Maybe we can start practicing tonight?’ He then rushed in another kiss, before pampering her face and neck with sweet pecks.

A tickled laugh bounced off the walls before they were smothered with his own mouth once again.

The two were barely out of their clothes when they heard someone call his name, “DRACULA! SURRENDER YOURSELF VILE CREATURE OF HELL!”

He looked over his shoulder as he hovered over his lover.

‘Who is that?!’ Mia said in worry.

Drake quickly and carefully pulled himself off of her and walked over to the window. Once he’d pulled the winter curtain to the side, there stood the whole nearby village with pitchforks and lit up torches in their hands.

‘Mia, stay here.’

‘What?! No, Drake— they’ll kill you!’

‘Mia!’ With his immortal speed, he grabbed her face, ‘Please… stay… here. They mustn’t know you’re here—‘

‘DRACULAAA! COME OUT, THE CHURCH ONLY WISHES TO SPEAK WITH YOU!’

‘Hide. Do not come out until I come to you myself do you understand?!’

Mia nodded quickly before she hurried off and searched for hiding places.

He walked towards the large door of his home, unlocked it and pulled it open. He was instantly greeted with the scent of burning oil. He could hear the racing of everyone’s heart. They feared him. All of them except the priest, who held that cursed book in his arm.

Shutting the door softly behind him, he then walked forward, ‘My I help you… priest?’

‘Hmm… indeed you can.’

Drake narrowed his eyes as he took in the individual. He donned dirty blonde hair, green eyes and had a lean, tall frame. He wore a black cloak with red trimmings around the wrists and around his neck he work a silver necklace with a large cross pendant.

‘I Am Priest Darius Obadiah. I preach at the local town’s church. And I specifically specialize in exorcisms and vampire hunting. Basically, I am a servant of God, here to rid the world of evil. Such as yourself. ‘

‘I do not know what you mean Priest. Perhaps you’ve stumbled across the wrong man.’

Priest Darius narrowed his eyes for a second and sighed before continuing, ‘I have received word on your whereabouts from the people of the church. These…’ the priest reached his arm out, gesturing towards the folk behind him, ‘People. But that isn’t the most interesting part…’

Drake’s brows pulled into one, his red eyes searching the crowd for anyone that he would have recognized. He paid no mind to the priest until he mentioned, ‘The townsfolk say you have a woman. I hear she’s the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen. Skin chocolatey and silky. Something you’d kill to dig your fangs into?’

His eyes darted back towards the priest and he clenched his jaw together, ‘I haven’t heard of such a woman… I am a mere farmer… I am alone.’

The Priest raised a brow before continuing, ‘I want to believe you son… but the darkness I feel exuding off of you is unmatched. Joseph, Phillip! Bring her to me please!’

Drake snapped his head over his shoulder as two large men carried her out by her arms. ‘DRAKE! Get off! Get off of me!’ And they tossed her to the ground before the priest.

‘MIA! DON’T YOU DARE HARM HER!’ His crimson eyes glowed brighter than the moon. His large fangs protruded from his gums.

‘Ah! There she is! Just as they have described to be too! And all we needed from you— was a little motivation.’ The Priest chuckled as he walked over to the young beautiful woman and grabbed her by her thick curls. ‘Up, up, up— there you go sweet heart.’

‘AUGH!’ Mia whimpered out.

‘Mia! I won’t let them hurt you my love!’

The priest gave some of the villagers a nod for them to start burning down his stock, and his home.

Drake was aware of what was occurring behind him but he kept his eyes fixated on the priest.

‘Look… I know you planned on living a quiet life. Settling down but you are an abomination. A demon sent from hell to plague this world your vileness. You have and only will put everyone you know in danger… so you can give yourself up now or I will simply break you.’

‘DRAKE! DON’T DO IT!’

Drake kept his eyes on the priest before he looked at his distressed wife. ‘Mia…’

The priest smacked his teeth, rolling his eyes, ‘Fine. Let’s see how you bend under pressure.’ And in record time, the priest pulled out a dagger and stabbed it through her back.

A gasp came from Mia’s lips as he snatched the blade right out of her.

‘MIAAAA!’ He rushed over to his dying lover, falling to his knees and pulled her up into his lap. ‘Mia! Baby, baby— it’s ok! It’s not that bad—It’s.‘ his breathing was shaky. He pulled her up so he could see the wound in her back and placed one hand there, and the other rested on her exit wound in her abdomen. ‘Come on baby! Stay with me!’

‘Such a shame… she was beautiful. What a waste.’ And the priest turned around and walked through the villagers.

‘Dr—… it’s-it’s okay.’ She muttered out, her eyes wet with her own tears. Mia placed her bloodied hands on his face, ‘it’s OK… let it… g-go.’

‘It’s OK baby. I’ve got you. Just… stay with me OK. Look at me!’

Mia gave him a pained smile as a thick tear fell down the side of her face. Her face finally relaxed. And her rhythmic heart had came to a stop.

‘No, no, no. Mia— Mia please! Stay with me please. MIA!’

He sobbed as he held her. A pain he’d never experienced before ripped through him and he just let out a painful wail. He pulled her up into his arms and just held her corpse close. Rocking as if he were putting a baby to sleep.

‘What about him, father?’ One of the villagers asked.

‘He is broken. Death is what he wants. His punishment for his presence shall to live without the one he loves for the rest of his days.’

‘And what if he comes for us?!’ Another villager asked in worry.

‘He will… and we shall be ready.’

In the back, his home was already engulfed in flames. His stock ran around rampant, burning and dying. But cared nothing about it. They’d taken away the one thing he loved in this world.

He sought revenge. And God and his disciples were to feel his everlasting wrath. For those who steered in his way— would meet their dreadful and untimely demise too.

***

Modern Day

The weather was treacherous today. It was almost enough to make Drake stay indoors. But he needed to finished his painting. He was almost done with it, so he bit the silver bullet and got himself together.

He wore a simple black slacks and a button down with a black wife beater beneath it. He then threw on a black blazer to complete the look. And on his way out the door, he grabbed his black umbrella and his sunglasses.

Drake inhaled deeply; taking in all of the scents around him. He could smell the moisture in the air. It was to rain soon, so he had to hurry back. The man was like a cat thrown in a tub! He hated getting wet against his will.

He then carefully pulled his AirPods out of his pocket and plugged them into his ears. Pulling out his iPod, he restarted his playlist and began on his journey.

Drake lived in the city. This way he never felt the need to invest in a car. As far as he knew, he wasn’t being hunted thus, so walking about was a bit more relieving. Plus, everything was nearby! Supermarket, Drugstore, Restaurants, Hospital (where he would stock up his special packets at). A perfect place go blend in.

‘Hi, Mister Drake!’ A little boy with bright ginger hair on a bike chirped out, stopping right in front of him.

He pressed his lips and stopped in his tracks, ‘Oliver, careful with that thing… you can hurt someone… or worse!’

‘What? This little ole thing? You are too big to be hurt by the likes of me.’ The young man said proudly.

‘That’s kind of you young man. Now if you’d excuse—‘

‘My mom keeps asking about you Mister Drake! When you gone call her?’

Drake raised a brow, his neck stiffening at the thought of his mother. She was a beautiful woman, pretty blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, coke bottle shape. But he would only use her for one thing if not, the other. So he looked behind him and ahead of him before leveling down to Oliver’s height.

‘Look,’ he pulled his shades down to the top of his nose, revealing his bright crimson eyes. ‘Tell your mother to stop sending her son to speak regarding her. It’s inappropriate and unladylike. And if she’d like, I’m available everyday around 7:30. K?’

The young man’s lips were parted open, stuck in a trance almost until he nodded.

‘Good lad,’ he pushed his shades back over his orbs and stood up straight, ‘Now, run along now. Behave now, young Oliver. I will be watching you!’

***

As soon as he walked into the safety of the arts and crafts store, he brought down his umbrella and pushed his shades back over his head. Then, he picked up a hand basket.

Blinking a few times he allowed his sensitive orbs to take absorb the artificial light. He then inhaled deeply, this way he was able to find out everything about every person in the establishment. Most of the pheromones were the same usual scents, and some were different but not special enough for him to be pulled in. All except one.

‘Hmmm.’ He hummed softly before his attention was grasp by one of the workers.

‘Mr. Drake! How’s it going?’

He snapped his head towards the older woman before giving her a gentle smile, ‘Mrs. King. Hi, how are you? How was your holiday?’

‘It was delightful! Kids had a blast up there in the snow! But I didn’t get to see you before I left. No lie, I was a bit concerned. Are you doing alright?’

November 29th was the day that Mia had passed. And every year since her death he would prepare a memorial in her honor. That was also the last day Mrs. King worked before her vacation.

He nodded, pressing his lips together, ‘Just— had business to take care of. I’m fine, truly.’

‘Well, you know I am a phone call away. Oh! We restocked in your favorite Oil & Acrylics yesterday! Gone head have a blast!’ She grinned happily.

‘Oh goodie! I best be on my way!’ He grinned as he began to make his way towards the back of the store where there were all kinds of varieties of canvases, paints, and brushes. This was his safe haven. His personal Heaven.

Suddenly, that unusual yet, familiar scent danced around his nose once again. But it was a delightful scent. It made love to his senses and made whatever soul he had left in him, feel right at home.

So he just followed it, gaining closer and closer to the smell. To his surprise was a curly haired, cinnamon skinned woman admiring a large squeeze bottle of paint. She was curvaceous, and small in height. She had the same silhouette as his long lost love.

Or perhaps he was seeing things.

Drake quietly walked over and just stood there eyeing the different kinds of paint. A smooth, seductive song began to play in his ears. Causing his eyes to close slightly as he savored the sound.

Until he found himself singing out softly.

‘What’s your name, whose your daddy—‘

‘Whose your daddy,’ the girl adlibed, ‘He rich? Is he rich like mee?’

Drake blinked once and looked over at the woman who was still studying the paint and now humming the rest of the song.

‘You like The Zombies?’ He said with a smirk, his eyebrow raised and curiosity.

‘Not really,’ she said before dropping the blue paint in her hand basket and looked up at him. Her hair bounced and moved effortlessly. So lively and full! ‘Just that song in particularly.’ She giggled.

When their eyes met, Drake felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. She had her same beautiful, charming smile. Those same honeycomb eyes, and those lips… those full lips he use to just indulge on for no particular reason at all. Just because that’s the closest he got to tasting her. Hell, even her heart beat sounded the same.

He was still as if he was caught in Medusa’s glare.

‘Uh..’

Drake blinked out of his own head, ‘I’m… sorry. You just reminded me of someone.’ He turned his gaze away and started packing the colors he needed.

The girl smiled softly, her small dimples deepening in her cheeks, ‘I hope they were good memories.’ She gave him a gentle giggle.

He bit into his bottom lip and pressed his lips together. He was afraid to say anything else.

‘I’m… Misty… by the way.’

Drake looked down at his basket before looking back over at her with a gentle smile, ‘Drake.’

‘Drake?’

‘Mmmm.’ He hummed in agreement.

‘Like the rapper?’

‘Who?’ He raised a brow before looking over at the gorgeous woman.

‘You know? “You use to call me on your cell phone— late night when you neeed myyy love.” You know that guy?’ She said elbowing him gently.

Drake stared at her, confusion written on his face.

‘Oh dear… that was a very popular song.’ Misty giggled as she picked up another color.

‘Not popular enough, I suppose.’

The girl laughed and shook her head, ‘I guess not. So why do they call you Drake?’

‘It’s short for something…’ he paused, feeling like he was opening way too many doors.

‘OK… what is it then?’

‘I’d rather not tell. I don’t like my name.’

‘Alright, well— it’s been a pleasure “Call me on my cellphone,” man.’ she began to back up and wave her dainty fingers towards him. ‘I must get going. See ya around.’

‘See ya.’ He murmured as she disappeared around the corner. If it were possible for a vampire to throw up, he probably would’ve done that already.

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x black!plus size female oc #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill!dracula #vampire!august #vampire!sherlock #vampire!henry cavill #count dracula #vampire lore #vampire

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messedupfan · 2 years ago

Text

The Scarlet Witch

Summary: The Scarlet Witch reveals her story.

A/N: Another big thank you to everyone who sticks around for my stories. I do put a lot of work into them and to know how much y'all enjoy them means the world! I truly appreciate every single one of you 🫶 Let me know what you think and enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Taglist

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

The room that Wanda is standing inside of is dark. Not necessarily pitch black, but it was hard to see and she couldn’t recognize the setting. She wasn’t at the battle anymore. She had no idea how to get back there. Too afraid to even breathe. But there was an urgency in her that made her move. Wanda takes a step forward to get a better sense of what is happening to her and then she hears the sound of a baby. She begins to panic as she searches for that baby. What was a baby doing in the middle of all of this? When she hears another, she begins to worry what kind of nightmare this is going to be.

Then she sees them. The setting has shifted again, this one is a cold lab. A man with a metal suit looms over a baby girl and a baby boy laying in separate plastic beds. She holds her stomach as tears spring to her eyes. “Don’t worry, dear. This isn’t about what you’ve failed to have.” A hand with long fingers holding her shoulder follows a voice similar to her own.

Startled, Wanda spins around to face the witch but instead she is met with an angry mob carrying torches and pitchforks marching towards a carriage that is already up in flames. A womans’ cries for help have her shaking and she runs to help her when she notices the mob is attacking a man with stones. She yells at them to stop but she has no voice. Then she sees them. A young Wanda and Pietro, taking one last look at the damage before he gets them out of there.

She is confused, what is she witnessing? She doesn't remember any of this. None of this happened to her. This wasn’t her childhood. These weren't her memories. “That’s right, this wasn’t your childhood,” the voice moves with each word. Wanda whips her head around to follow it, to find her, but she doesn’t. There is another angry mob and this time they are pelting her and Pietro with stones. “It’s my story,” as she talks there are flashes of traumatizing memories, one right after the other. It hits Wanda too fast that she starts to feel faint but she knows that she has to stay standing.

Outside of her mind she knows that you and others are fighting to stop the Scarlet Witch. She needed to try to reason with the woman before you killed yourself trying to stop her. There has to be another way to stop her.

“This is my life, and the life of so many of us,” the painful images and screams come to a halt and for a second Wanda thinks it’s over. She thinks she can breathe and think for herself again. Then she is presented with her own memories and feels the presence of someone beside her. She doesn’t have the urge to find the demented mirror image of herself when she sees you holding her niece with her brother distracted behind you. She is helping her mom prepare food in the kitchen and her father is watching the meat on the grill. She misses her family. But all she can focus on is you. The bright smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes as you talk softly to Luna. “Whereas you? What have you suffered?” Scarlet Witch continues in a venomous tone.

With tears in her eyes, Wanda shoots a sharp glare in the direction of the voice. She only gets a glimpse before the figure moves again. “I have suffered. Not everything in my life has come so easily,” she casts her eyes to the dark ground of her subconscious. She is thrown off by the fact that she can’t see her feet but instead an inviting spot of light flickering through the darkness.

It stops flickering and she thinks maybe someone is trying to rescue her from the Scarlet Witch’s manipulation. But then her hand reaches out and yanks her through. “If you’re looking for my pity, you can save it,” the woman’s sinister eyes give her pause but she doesn’t show her fear. She can’t afford to be afraid inside of here. Not when there are so many brave people risking their lives. Not when so many have lost their lives. Scarlet Witch continues showing Wanda more versions of them. This one is a Wanda in what looks like a doctors office. “See her?” Scarlet Witch starts as she walks around the crying woman, “She’s finding out that she’ll never be able to carry children.” The setting changes again, “This one is being told that the boys she actually gave birth to aren’t real.” Then, to get to her point, she speeds up glimpse after glimpse of the struggling Wanda’s from other universes. “You don’t know how good you have it.”

Instead of falling into the heaviness, the weight of the despair radiating from every version of herself, she thinks about you. She thinks back to everything the two of you have been through together. She thinks about the strength the two of you give each other. “Why do you have to take over everything? Don’t you have enough power?” Wanda says. “Have the life you want! You don’t need to destroy every universe to get it!”

“Silly girl, I’m not going to destroy every universe. All of this was only ever meant for two people,” she states. Before Wanda can express her confusion, the witch continues. “When I lost everything, a book made it clear to me that I could have it all back. If I truly wanted it.” A small wave of her hand causes the Darkhold to appear between the women. Even in a mental form, the book radiated dark energy that affected Wanda. “There were spells that could sort of bring the love of my life back, however, they were always tethered to something. That bothered me. I couldn't have Y/n that way. No, I wanted my Y/n back. As they used to be. Not some puppet. Unfortunately, the only being throughout the multiverse capable of successfully bringing someone back from the dead without constraints or complications happened to be the variant of the one person I missed the most.”

“What are you talking about? Y/n has never brought someone back to life,” Wanda says.

“Oh how quickly you forget,” Scarlet Witch shakes her head. “You died in their arms, Wanda. The only reason you are standing here today is because they gave you life. Because they are the only one who possesses the ability to truly resurrect the dead. Not so that they're a zombie or a puppet. No. A true resurrection. You get your own life, have your own thoughts, you don't have to only exist within some sort of bubble. You can simply be.”

Wanda couldn't believe what she was hearing. This wasn't about destroying the multiverse. This was about saving you. “Why go after everyone else?” She asks.

“It wasn't my intention to destroy any universe. At least, not as many as I have,” she steps around Wanda as she changes the scenery again. “There was one light at the end of my very dark tunnel,” Wanda stares at the variant of you asleep on a couch with two beautiful baby boys cozy and sleeping in your arms. An image she longed for herself. An experience she wanted so desperately. “Then she took it all away from me.” The scene changes. The once warm home was now nothing but rubble. Scarlet Witch, once a Wanda herself, is on her knees. Beaten down and bruised. Her home with the only family she had left is reduced to nothing but ashes. Behind her is Jean Grey, floating in the air delivering some speech that the Scarlet Witch refuses to replay. Then, in her grief, power explodes from Wanda and instantly knocks the Dark Phoenix to the ground. It doesn't kill her. It only weakens her. This is the first time that Wanda had been able to absorb power from another person. And when Jean is left as nothing but a shell, that Wanda falls to the ground in tears. “I found the Darkhold shortly after that. I discovered things about myself that I hadn't known possible. I discovered things about the universe and all of its mysteries. So many spells I'd never learned before. My destiny is to rule everything.”

“So this is a revenge plan,” Wanda whispers.

“Yes, well,” the Scarlet Witch laughs to herself. “I had a much simpler one, long before I perfected multiversal travel, but Y/n decided they were insane and instead of killing the nexus Jean as I tried for months to convince them to do. They killed themselves. Tragic really, it was such a waste of time. Luckily not a complete waste, I mean, it brought me here. Didn’t it?”

Wanda wipes away her tears, she needs to remain strong. Her world is being threatened and nothing was making any sense to her. “If you loved Y/n so much, why have you killed so many of them? Why not only go after Jean? Why hunt down other Nexus? You didn’t need to harm any of them! You–”

The book disappears and the Scarlet Witch stops in front of her variant and bows her head. “You wouldn't understand,” the little bit of this Wanda that isn't corrupted by the Darkhold whispers. She raises her head and instead of her normal skin tone and young features, there stands a dried version of a woman. Her veins are visible and black, her skin is a dusty white, her eyes completely black with thick oil like tears rolling down her face. “You haven't experienced loss like I have. You haven't been as desperate as I've been.”

She shows Wanda her dark journey in quick overwhelming flashes. The woman has never felt this much grief and despair and pain in her entire life. She doesn't know how it doesn't consume her completely. She doesn't know how it helps her break out of the Scarlet Witch's compulsion.

Once she is free, Wanda opens her eyes and catches herself as she falls to the floor. “Y/n,” she whispers as she looks around frantically. The scene she is witnessing isn’t the one that she left. Jean is knocked out behind the Scarlet Witch while the woman towers over you as you are in a kneeling position. You look tired and defeated. Blood shows through the dirt you have gotten covered in through the fight. Wanda stands with the purpose that she has to get to you before it's too late.

The Battle of the Multiverse Part 2

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @olsensnpm @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @imamethysthailee

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theluckywizard · 11 months ago

Note

Happy dadwc! Let's have "You cannot stain a black coat. -Nicholas Nickelby" from the Dickens prompts, for Kirkwall-era Garrett Hawke?

Thank youuuu! I also incorporated these twin prompts from @about2dance and @bluewren for @dadrunkwriting

This inspired a scene in my MatchmakingMoms!AU where Leandra Hawke and Alsatia Trevelyan are trying to fix up Garrett and Rose, their incorrigible adult children who have no interest in getting fixed up. Context: Dougal is coming to extort more money and effectively interrupted Hawke's introduction to Rose. Hawke is off to deal with him with his friends. WC: 2,211 Characters: Garrett Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, Merrill, Varric, Dougal, Aveline, Anders. Rose Trevelyan, Alsatia Trevelyan and Leandra Hawke are implied. Ship: Garrett Hawke x Aveline Vallen (unrequited)

Striding along the snow dusted streets of Hightown in the clink of his armor and mail, Hawke’s mind bounces between the impertinence of Dougal and the ill-fated introduction he’d just endured. His friends all seem to be waiting for him to say something, unusually short on quips considering everything going on. He glances at them, testing his theory and in spite of their varying moods, their brows all lift inquiringly.

“I don’t know. I mean you saw her. She looked as pinched as every other blazing noblewoman I’ve met, but there was something about her expression—” Hawke says starting right in, swinging along the tidy streets of Hightown toward the lower market where Fenris says Varric is running interference. “She— smirked.”

“She smirked.” Fenris’ flat tone is somehow flatter. Hawke thinks back on her momentarily. Truthfully he couldn’t see well beyond the severity of her coif and gown, but she had pleasant enough face he supposes. He hadn’t been paying much attention until she smirked. And then his friends foisted themselves upon them all.

“Yeah, her smirk. I mean I can’t blame her. I am me. But it was— nice. And… weirdly familiar.”

“Pinched she may be, but that girl’s been plucked,” remarks Isabela with a wry twist of her lips.

“What do you mean she’s been plucked?” asks Merrill. “Because she’s a Rose?”

“Yes, because she’s a Rose,” answers Hawke, grinning stupidly.

“She’s had sex,” hisses Isabela to Merrill.

“Ohhh. How do you know she’s— well— been plucked?” asks Merrill.

“I just know,” smiles the Rivaini.

“Anyway. Surely she and her enterprising mother will take a hint after another day or two and flee back to Ostwick,” says Hawke, rather eager to be rid of the intrusion this first holiday alone. They’re certainly in no need of the audience as he and his mother feel out how to be fabulously wealthy and normal all at once.

“You are humoring your mother,” observes Fenris like it’s the strangest thing. “Couldn’t you tell her no?

“Not this time. The mother’s an old friend. And I’m a sucker for seeing my mother rekindling old friendships after everything. The aren’t many who will associate with her after her infamous flight to Ferelden. Even all these years later. And no amount of gilding will cover up that stain.”

“You’re a good son, Hawke,” says Merrill. “I thought she looked lovely.”

“Yes, my mother is a delight,” teases Hawke.

Merrill smacks him with the back of her hand. “That Rose girl.”

“She was fine I suppose. Nothing that could tempt me outright I don’t think. But fine.”

Dougal and his horde of unwashed brutes loiter restlessly in the Guild Quarter, heavily armed and bearing torches. Varric wisely stands to one side with enough space between him and the gang that he can’t be jumped without pulling Bianca first. Dougal himself is cursed with an unearned sense of confidence, eyes glittering over the warped smile on his face

“You’re only missing pitchforks,” Hawke says with an affable smile.

“We’re missing a little more than that.”

“Says you. We had an agreement,” says Hawke, reaching casually for the weapon of one of Dougal’s henchmen. The young dwarf, not knowing what to do with such a bold, unconcerned incursion, allows it. Hawke inspects it and hands it back to him, ruffling his hand in the hair of the dwarf.

“I’ve seen the spoils of your expedition,” says Dougal. “The lavish estate. The fine furnishings. I think I deserve a larger share of your fortune. Fair is fair, right?”

“I’ll be the last one to say we should have listened to Bartrand,” interjects Varric. “But we should have listened to Bartrand.”

“Isn’t this a conversation we should have had— say— eight months ago?” asks Hawke.

“What can I say. Things have gone poorly for me and I’m a bitter man,” says Dougal, inspecting his stubby fingers.

“So you admit to being a shit investor and then come slithering my way thinking you can make me cough up more?” asks Hawke, his amusement supreme.

“Now you’re getting it,” says Dougal.

“And if I say no?” says Hawke, crossing his arms. He’s already counted the opposition— twelve excluding the man himself who would doubtlessly hide behind his muscle. Daggers and hammers and crossbows. Leather armor at least. He feels a swell of pity for the goons that have fallen in with this slimeball. Most of them are just trying to make it in this town the same way he was. And Maker, he’d really rather not kill anyone tonight of all nights.

“Let’s just say that I’d hate to see something happen to that lovely mother of yours who spends all together too much time alone. A hundred sovereigns and you can make this go away.”

“Extortion’s never really been a favorite of mine, you know,” says Hawke cheerfully, drawing his sword from its sheath on his back. He tosses it lightly in a little show, admiring how the brazier light flashes on each side of the fuller. “But shameless creature that I am, I suppose I’m tough to blackmail. You can’t stain a black coat.”

“A man does what he must,” says Dougal, easy amongst his squad of stabby goobers.

“You’ve already interrupted Hawke’s special day,” says Isabela with her usual wry grin. “Now you’re threatening to kill his mother?”

“Special day?” asks Dougal.

Hawke rolls his eyes lightly. “It’s not that special.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” says the rat.

“If you must know—” Hawke begins.

“Hawke’s mother is trying to set him up with a wife,” finishes Merrill, utterly delighted.

“Oh?” Dougal’s brow arches high and then he laughs, a pitying one that echoes off the cornices and columns until it devolves into wheezes. He clutches his side, recovering himself while his men chuckle along dutifully. “Well it’s a good thing I’m claiming my due now. She’ll drain your coffers dry and run off with the stable boy.”

Hawke snorts at the man's confident advice. “Today is not your day,” he says, smiling as he slips his shield onto his left arm. “Why don’t you let all these nice people head along home to their lovely spouses and fight me head to head like the Maker intended?”

“You and I both know I pay good coin for this back up.”

“Good, is it?” Hawke asks. He turns to the men. “I’ll pay you double this month’s wages to fuck right off right now! Toss in a wheel of cheese for your trouble!”

“You can’t buy their loyalty. They’re all family!” laughs Dougal. “Though maybe you don’t quite understand. I heard you notoriously lost your family during your little expedition.”

“Bold blazing words from an actual turkey. Come on then. Let’s get this over with,” says Hawke stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders in preparation before flipping down his visor. He sees the faint the shimmer of Merrill’s barrier hugging him as he invites the onslaught, pounding on his shield to draw them upon him.

By now his crew is well aware of his distaste for outright murder. He’d seen Varric and Isabela’s precision— pinning culprits to walls with bolts and removing armor with surgical slashes of blades. And Fenris had mercifully learned to execute a relatively delicate little pop on the head when needed. Merrill summons her fantastically freaky tendrils and wraps them up as needed. Hawke is appreciative of their restraint considering.

“I don’t suppose anyone had the forethought to fetch Aveline?” asks Hawke, sending assailants tumbling back with aggravated nudges of his elbow and bashes of his shield.

“Blondie went for her,” says Varric, ducking under a triplet.

“I wish he’d hurry the blazes up,” says Hawke, glancing down at the blood pooling in his mail under his gauntlet. “Fuck.” He shakes his arm out like it might make it feel better and then gets right back to it.

It's Dougal’s numbers versus the eclectic capabilities of Hawke’s crew. The clash carries on long enough that everyone involved starts getting loose and careless in their movements, the early snap of battle settling into a languor as everyone starts hankering after stamina pots and lyrium draughts. Hawke flips his visor up to swipe sweat from his brow.

“So how’d you know this girl anyhow?” asks Dougal, sashaying lightly away from one of Merrill’s grabby vines.

“Daughter of a family friend,” grunts Hawke, shoving one back with the flat of his foot against the poor sod’s stomach. Convenient to be so tall in a fight against dwarves.

“Does she have a nice set of badonkers, at least?” inquires Dougal.

“Acceptable,” remarks Isabela, stepping on her unconscious quarry as she binds his wrists behind him. “Hard to tell underneath those bloody stays that are getting so popular these days.”

“She was perfectly prim,” insists Merrill, cracking the head of a cheeky bastard with her staff.

“You’re all getting ahead of yourselves,” says Hawke, hovering somewhere between exasperation and unbridled laughter. “I have about as much chance of settling down with her as I have sprinting up Viscount’s court in my birthday suit.”

“Hawke,” says Fenris in the simplest challenge.

“Well all right, through the Chantry then.”

“Hawke,” says Isabela, eyebrow raised as she disarms another assailant, kicking their blade far across the stones.

“You don’t really believe that I’d—“

“Hawke,” says Varric, tilting his head in amazement.

“You do something one time!” he grumbles, knocking back the last goon between him and Dougal hard enough that the blighter doesn’t even get up.

“You’re not going to kill me,” says Dougal, backed against a wall. “You’re soft. Effective but soft.”

“You don’t know that,” says Hawke. “Maybe I want to get back to future wife with the badonkers. I’d get there faster if I stuck you with my sword.”

“Everybody knows your soft, Hawke,” says Dougal, dodging the admittedly lazy thrusts of Hawke’s blade. “Maybe if you’d been quicker to kill you wouldn’t have had to make a deal with me.”

“For Maker’s sake,” mutters Hawke, deftly cornering Dougal with renewed fire and squashing him against the wall with the flat of his blade. “Do I talk this much?”

“Yes!” comes the hollered chorus.

“You can’t get rid of me so easy,” says Dougal, glancing at his subdued henchmen. “There’s only two ways to make me go away.”

“Three, actually,” comes a blessed voice from across the yard. The shuffling sound says she came with reinforcements. Dougal’s head falls back in annoyance.

“It’s my word against yours, Hawke,” he spits.

“When’s the last time you did a favor for the Viscount?” Hawke asks with a grin. “Or are you going to extort him too?”

“Not a bad bit of rescuing, if I do say so myself,” says Anders, attending to Fenris who mutters a string of Tevinter curses while a laceration in his side gets a dose of luminescent relief.

Aveline’s guards shackle the ones writhing in pain and check those who have already been trussed up. Hawke asks Anders to work on the most dire of Dougal’s injured goons, eager to relish in being the bigger man.

“Well, Hawke. Can’t say I’ll shed any tears about this one,” says Aveline come alongside Hawke.

He feels a shadow of the same thrill he once got when she came around, but her indifference to him has at last settled permanently within him, the disappointment sticking like a splinter too deep.

“He threatened Mother," says Hawke, "Like a common hoodlum."

“The worst crime of all,” says Aveline with a wry little smile. “Give my best to Leandra.”

“Didn’t you hear? Leandra is hosting Hawke’s future wife,” chimes in Isabela.

“And she’s lovely!” adds Merrill, earnestly excited.

“Future wife, Hawke?” asks Aveline. “Leandra must be beside herself.”

Hawke’s eyes roll deeply back into their sockets. “They’re visiting for the week. An old friend and her daughter. Figure I’ll spend a little extra time down in Lowtown this week.”

“Aw, Hawke. What if she’s nice? You could use a nice girl,” says Aveline

“Like a singing, dancing bogfisher,” gazing at Aveline doubtfully.

She shakes her head at him in that same Maker-forsaken sisterly way she always has, but he has to acknowledge there’s some truth to it. His romantic heart has too long been preoccupied and alone, fixating on an impractical mirage. He daydreams of something. A secret intimacy of terrible jokes and favorite touches. Of lazy mornings and shared investigations. But he doubts the finicky creature who smirked at him once would be the woman for the job. There isn’t space in this life of his for anyone who can’t keep pace with his nonsense.

Hawke glances around at the carnage— a rather tidy victory, he admits— barely a mess for the street sweeps to cope with, and little more than a sweat broken. He remembers the stab wound near his elbow and shakes out his forearm and hand again before downing a mild healing pot and making a note to dress it at home.

“Watch your coffers, Hawke,” warns Dougal with a smirk as he’s hauled away.

“Better hurry on back,” says Aveline again with that same teasing diffidence.

Hawke snorts softly and thanks her for her timely aid. He makes everyone promise to bother him at the Hanged Man later where he’ll be taking refuge from the machinations of his mother and the elder Trevelyan woman.

Varric comes up alongside him and pats his back, fully aware of the long misery that’s in the midst of flickering out at last. “Come on, Chuckles. I’ll walk you home.”

#DA2 #Garrett Hawke #Rose Trevelyan #MatchmakingMoms!AU #DADWC #Fenris #Merrill #Isabela #Varric #Aveline #Anders #DA2 Act 2 #Canon Divergence #Dealing with Dougal #Fighting and Bantering #Theluckywizard #Hawke x Trevelyan #Blue-Purple Hawke #Kiss Me Moonstruck

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megthemewlingquim · 2 years ago

Text

wasteland, baby! | prologue: concerning a few important moments in your life

Summary: You are much older than you look. For hundreds of years, you have seached for answers.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Reader (but not yet!)

Warnings: death, grieving

A/N: And here it is! The prologue of Wasteland, Baby! I assure you, Dream will show up, but I wanted to establish your place in this world first. I was inspired by the "older" people in the Brief Lives volume, and thought that it would be cool to have you be the same.

I will reitorate that there are MAJOR SPOILERS for The Sandman graphic novel series here. If you have not read "Fables and Reflections", "Brief Lives", "The Kindly Ones", and "The Wake", I would recommend you wait to read this until you have done so.

wasteland, baby! masterlist

1693. Salem, Massachusetts.

You sob into your open palms, crying out noises of unimaginable pain and grief. You feel like you’re drowning… stones are tied to your ankles and dragging you down into the depths.

Your mother lays motionless on the bed. Her hand has just left yours to fall onto the bed, limp and cold. Her breath has gone, a final prayer ending in an “Amen” just fading from her lips.

Sobbing, crying, shaking, you lift the bedsheets and cover your mother’s body. Your hand lifts and you perform a Sign of the Cross. You take a shaky breath. “Saints of God, come to her aid! Come to meet her, Angels of the Lord! Receive her soul and present her to God the Most High.” Your voice is delicate, heavy with grief and hoarse from your sobs.

A week passes before you hear a knock on the door. Your mother’s funeral has come and gone. You are alone in your house - your siblings and your father all went their separate ways a very long time ago. They were too scared to stay with you.

The reason for this fear is precisely the reason why you have received visitors on this dreary Monday afternoon. You open the door and you are greeted with the stoic faces of your fellow Puritans. Some hold crosses and some hold torches and pitchforks.

One man, an elderly and shrunken skeleton, looks fiercely into your eyes. He spits your name out as if it's blasphemy. “We have received reports from the elders of our community. You have not aged a day since your 28th birthday. You were born in the year of our Lord 1641, were you not? It is the year 1693.” The man scans your features, your face that’s devoid of wrinkles, your eyes that are not baggy, your figure that has not even started to be weighed down by time. “Your own mother, God rest her soul, has just gone on to her final resting place, and yet here you are, fifty two years of age, appearing as you were thirty years ago! What trickery is this?”

Even you don’t know the answer to that question. You wished you did.

1794. Paris, France.

The door you face is wooden, dark and polished. A sign above this door hangs on a pole, swinging and creaking in the wind. The sound grates on your ears. Rain plummets down on you, soaking you to the bone. You shiver and reach out a hand, knocking three times on the door.

After a little while, someone opens the door. Dark, straight hair and brown eyes that look almost black. An expression that looks bored, or annoyed; you can’t tell. She looks… tired, too. But you have not visited her at a bad time, it’s only around quarter after seven at night.

“Lady Johanna Constantine?” you ask, hesitantly.

“It is,” she says blankly. “What is it?”

“I’ve not come to ask for any service,” you start, “but instead I ask for advice, for knowledge.”

“Knowledge on what, might I ask? I’d like to know if this would be worth my time.”

You swallow. “Your knowledge on those souls who look younger than their age.”

She raises one eyebrow.

“Much younger,” you whisper.

She furrows her eyebrows, studying you intently. “Get in.”

“I was born in 1641. Salem, Massachusetts.”

“I was going to say, you sound very American.”

“The year does not surprise you?”

“No. I assumed you were talking about yourself when you asked me for advice.”

The room is dimly lit by candles and lanterns. Extremely cold, and stuffed with books and papers and holy symbols. You and Johanna sit at opposite ends of a small wooden table.

“Do you have experience with matters such as these?”

Johanna nods. “I do. Have you heard the tales around these parts? The Devil and the Wandering Jew meet in a tavern every hundred years.”

“I have heard those tales.” And it’s true. You don’t live for a hundred years without hearing any urban legends. “Which is exactly why I came to you. I have heard that you encountered both the Devil and the Wandering Jew in that very same tavern in the year 1789. Is it true?”

She shrugs. “Some people believe so.”

“Do you?”

She looks at you, unblinking. “No. Not anymore.”

You lean forward. “What changed your mind?”

“At first, I believed that at least one of them was the Devil. Only the Devil would show me…” Johanna stops suddenly, looking down at her hands. “Ghosts,” she mutters. “He showed me ghosts. Personal ghosts.”

She is silent for a moment, but then looks back up again. “But, five years later… I saw him again. In my dreams. He’s not… he’s not the Devil. But he’s not an angel, either. He wanted me to perform a task. It was important and personal to him. I almost lost my head with that one.”

“Five years later…” you say to yourself. “That’s… that’s this year, isn’t it?”

Johanna nods again. “A few months ago, I received a message from him. He is Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Lord of Nightmares. He had me undergo a task for him and I succeeded.”

“Dream of… what?”

“The Endless. I don’t know what they are, exactly, but they are more powerful than we mortals could ever imagine. They control so much that we do not notice. Dream, for example, is lord over our dreams. He creates them.”

You swallow your confusion. “What did you do for him?”

“I rescued his son,” Johanna says. “He has been sought after for centuries, and I rescued him from his captors. He helped me when I needed it, too.”

It takes you a moment for it to register in your mind. “Did you say, ‘centuries’?” you ask, incredulously.

She grins. “I was needed for this task for two reasons; one, Dream needed a mortal agent; two, he specifically needed a mortal agent who would not have been easily frightened or unbelieving of the supernatural. Yes, his son has been sought after for centuries. Dream himself has been alive for eons. Perhaps for all of existence, I do not know. He does have a friend, Robert Gadling, who is much like you — seemingly immortal. He’s been rumored to have been alive since the 1300s.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t help you with that. I haven’t seen Robert Gadling since that day at the tavern.”

“Can you tell me why I am this way?”

Johanna shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. I know about demons and ghosts and things of that sort. Your predicament is one I rarely come upon, and even when I do, I do not have an explanation for it.”

You stare at your hands, which are balled up in your lap. “I’ve gone to so many people, so many priests and exorcists and demon-hunters like yourself. No one has been able to tell me why I’ve lived for this long. And now I’m here, with you, and even you cannot answer my question.”

Lady Johanna Constantine sits for a moment, quietly thinking to herself. “Perhaps…” she muses, “I can show you someone that may be able to help. But you must promise me that, in your lifetime, you will not tell anyone about him.” Her voice, though quiet, is grave. She leans forward, her hands on the desk. “No one on this earth must know of his existence. Do you understand?”

“No one on this earth will know,” you repeat just as gravely. “Yes. I understand.”

Johanna unlocks a huge wooden door with a golden key. It is the basement to her home, and she guides you down a few flights of stairs into a room that is once again filled with ancient artifacts and letters and many different books. It is even colder and darker down here. Johanna goes to the furthest corner of the room and lifts a heavy blanket off of something on a table.

You cover your mouth to stifle a scream.

There is a severed head on the counter. The face, though youthful and handsome, is drained of all color. His hair is light brown and surprisingly well kept. There is a gold hoop earring in his left earlobe. His eyes are closed; it almost looks like he’s sleeping. The head has been seemingly ripped, brutally, from the rest of the body, but there is no gore or blood present.

“What — ” you gasp. “Who — who was that?”

“That,” Johanna says, “is Orpheus, son of Dream of the Endless.”

“Orpheus? You mean… the Orpheus of Greek mythology? ”

“I told you. I have experience with the supernatural.” Constantine’s voice is calm. “Do you remember what happened to Orpheus after he failed to bring his wife back from the Underworld?”

“He — ” You blink, trying to go through your racing mind for anything you’d remember. “I don’t think I remember this part. The myth usually ended with that — him looking back.”

Johanna sighs. “Then you were a child when you heard about it. Perhaps your family omitted the last part so you wouldn’t be frightened. Orpheus was torn apart by the Bacchante, the wild druids and spirits of Bacchus, god of wine and insanity. They approached him, wanting him to partake in their ecstatic frenzy, and he refused. They ripped his body to pieces, and threw what was left of him into the Hebrus River.”

You feel sick. Your hands shake.

“His head washed up on the island of Lesbos, and there he stayed.” Johanna walks up to the head. “This was centuries ago. His head has stayed perfectly safe from decomposition.” She takes a moment, and then she speaks to the head. “Orpheus,” she says, “we have a visitor.”

Orpheus’s eyes open.

You scream.

“Hullo,” Orpheus says. His voice is soft and gentle. He says your name with the utmost certainty. “I knew you’d be here.”

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Johanna says.

“I…” you whisper. “H-hello.”

“I greet you,” Orpheus says, not at all seeming concerned with his current state. He is a living severed head that rests on a table, and yet he talks as if he’s not. There is always a lingering blanket of sadness resting on his words.

“You’re… Orpheus?” you ask hesitantly. “The one who looked back and saw Eurydice?”

Orpheus looks down at the table. “Yes. I’d rather not talk about it.”

Understandable. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. What brings you here?”

“I am… like you.”

Orpheus looks up again, interested. “You are? Did you make a deal with Teleute? What did she say to you?”

You stare at him, confused.

“No,” Orpheus says. “You did not. What is your ailment, then?”

“I have lived for one hundred and fifty years. I have not made a deal with death. I have done nothing to be this way. I do not know who else can help me understand it. You, and Joanna, are my final resort. Would you know why I am this way?”

“No,” says Orpheus. “You are the first I have seen.”

The disappointment in the air is almost tangible. You and Orpheus do not say much after that. He is lost in his own grief, and you are still and silent.

Johanna busies herself with gathering up various supplies and rations. “I have to transport him,” she says. “I just recently rescued him from the French aristocrats here - that was the task that Dream had charged me with. I’m going to travel and return him to his original place: the island of Naxos, in Greece.”

“May I come with you?” you ask. “I’d hate to invite myself, but… I don’t really have anywhere to go. I like you, and I like Orpheus.”

Johanna looks at Orpheus. A silent conversation is held.

“I suppose,” Johanna says, “but when we get to the island, you must let me and Orpheus go on alone. No one can know of his location. No one except me, and I will take the secret to my grave.”

“Very well,” you say, “thank you.”

The journey to Naxos is long. You and Johanna have to go by horseback and Orpheus has to be kept in a satchel. He does not need to eat or drink, but he does like to come out sometimes to look at the sunrises, but only when there are no people around. You and Johanna wear common dresses and skirts - Johanna does not want to be recognized. The colors of the sky remind you of old paintings, and the countryside is vast and flat and green.

You all start to see rocky cliffs and a long stretch of water on the horizon. The air begins to smell of salt and gets colder.

“Orpheus?” you ask, hesitantly, opening the satchel’s flap. The satchel itself is attached to Johanna’s horse. You are currently walking your horse beside her own, in between the two. “Can I ask you something?”

He looks up at you. He still looks beautiful and young, but his eyes do not show any mirth - if anything, they are polluted with unspoken grief. His speech is muffled from the fabric and the constant motion of the satchel on a moving horse, but you can hear him alright. “Yes,” he says. “You don’t have to ask. What could I do if I didn’t want you to? I can’t run away or cover my ears.” This little bit of humor does not do much, and he laughs, uneasily. “Go on, dear.”

“What is your father like?”

Orpheus’s eyes widen. You swear you can see him stiffen, even in his bodiless state, within the satchel. “My father?” he asks. “I… I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since…” He trails off. “I haven’t seen him in two thousand years.”

“What?”

“Our last meeting was… it was quite terrible. I had renounced him as my father when he would not help me return my love, Eurydice, from the Underworld. Then, I encountered him once more, when I washed up on the island of Lesbos. He told me this: ‘Your life is your own, Orpheus. Your death, likewise. Always, and forever, your own. Fare well. We shall not meet again.’ I was wrong to renounce him, but even now he will not help me. He will not give me the death I have craved since… Well, since Eurydice died, I suppose. True to his word, he has not sought me out. We have not spoken since then.”

You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Orpheus.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you wish you or Orpheus or Johanna could crack a joke here or there. It would bring up the depressing mood, ease the tension. But there are no jokes to be told, and there is no happiness to be felt here.

“What is your father? Who is he?”

Orpheus thinks for a moment, trying to piece his words together. “My father is one of the Endless. My mother and I knew him as Oneiros. He has siblings, my aunts and uncles and an uncle-aunt. Potmos, Teleute, Oneiros, Olethros, Epithumia and Aponoia, and Mania. They have other names, maybe ones that you would be familiar with, but this is how I knew them. Oneiros is ruler over the Dreaming, which is where you go when you sleep. He both is, and creates, your dreams. He has power over all that is unconscious. Gods are born and die in his realm. Stay in his good graces, if you can.”

“What’s he like?”

“He… quite honestly, he’s a conundrum. He has responsibilities that are too many to mention. I… I do not know the extent of his work, but I do think it’s a wonder that he even had time for me or my mother at all. But… despite his work, he loves. He loved my mother unconditionally, as he loved me. He was oftentimes stoic and seemingly cold, but when he was not those things, we saw little fragments of warmth in his eyes, tiny moments of humanity within him. It was nice.” You can see Orpheus smiling with remembrance within the bag. It’s bittersweet. “He loved showing us his creations and his treasures. He was gentle. When I was a child, he played with me and told me stories, stories from the unconscious thoughts of dreamers and from his own mind… which are, in some way, the same thing… He would make instruments for me to play. He gave me my lyre.”

“Do you wish you could see him?”

Orpheus doesn’t answer for a while. Then he says, grimly, “I do not know. Perhaps. But he does not forget easily; I am no longer his son. He does not care. He is not the man he once was.”

You sigh. “I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wish things were different.”

“Yes,” says Orpheus. “So do I.”

Soon, you reach the bottom of a high cliffside that stands across a small part of the sea. There is a boat that rests on the shore, as if waiting for you. It is here that Johanna and Orpheus prepare to leave you. Johanna takes Orpheus’s head out of the satchel, carrying it over to you. “I wish you luck in your quest for answers. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you. I did have one more question, Johanna. What's the name of the tavern that the devil and the Wandering Jew meet up in?" you ask with a small smile.

"It is called The White Horse." Johanna answers with her own witty little smile. "Now. You may hold him,” she says. “Say goodbye.” She places Orpheus in your hands. He's heavy, but that is all that bothers you. His skin is cold.

“I am sorry I could not help you,” Orpheus murmurs. His dark hair is tousled by the sea wind. “I also wish you luck, dear. May you find the answers that you seek. Fare thee well.”

“Thank you, Orpheus,” you say with a sad smile. “It was a pleasure. If it's not inappropriate, I hope you and your father will make amends one day.”

He hums — it may have been a scoff. “I do, too.”

And with that, Johanna and Orpheus get into the little boat and disappear. You see a tiny dot emerge on the other side of the small patch of sea and make its way up the cliffside. Then it is gone.

You never see either of them again.

June 7th, 1889. London, England.

It's another rainy day outside. You walk the streets of London, eyeing the signs above the building doors. One of them — The White Horse — catches your eye and you walk towards it. Your chest is tight with anticipation, with longing, at perhaps being able to talk to them: the so-called "devil", Dream of the Endless, and the so-called ‘Wandering Jew’.

Through the rain and wind, you hear shouting in front of you. You can see faint silhouettes — two people, both facing away from you. One of them walks away without turning his back. The one closest to you shouts at the one walking away, and as he does, you feel both immense happiness and immense pain.

"I'll tell you what: I'll be here in a hundred years' time. If you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends! No other reason, then… right?” He sounds angry and sad and bewildered all at once. As you approach, you hear him mutter a soft, but still agitated, “Fuck.”

“Did… did you say a hundred years?” you ask hesitantly as you stop a few feet behind him. He turns and looks at you, hurt and anger still present in his eyes. You see panic there, too. He has nicely cut black hair and is sharply dressed.

“Nah, you must've heard different, love, I'm sorry,” he says quickly. He turns to leave.

“Wait.”

He doesn't answer. He keeps walking.

“Lady Johanna Constantine said you'd be here. You and the devil meet here every hundred years.”

The man stops and turns back to you. “Constantine?” he asks incredulously. “She hasn't been alive since the 1700s. You must be thinking of one of her great grandchildren or something.”

You give him a knowing look. “No, it was absolutely Lady Johanna. She met you here exactly one hundred years ago. She told me that you'd be here. It's June 7th, isn't it?”

He blinks. “Who're you?”

You introduce yourself. “I've been alive for two hundred and forty eight years. You've been alive for five hundred years. I've traveled on foot, on boat and by train to get here, and I hope to find some answers about my… our… existence.”

“You’re joshing me.”

“No.”

“You’ve heard the tales, miss. I’m not the Wandering Jew. Robert Gadling was an ancestor of mine.”

“I never said the name ‘Robert Gadling’.”

You find it remarkably easy to talk to him. Your heart races, excitement coursing through you.

The man sighs. “Miss, I cannot help you,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how this happened. I told my friends that I would never die… all the way back in 1389. And I haven’t died. That’s all. Maybe my friend —” He stops. “That man that I saw. He must have done something. I don’t know what. He would know more than me.”

You look past him and look for the man who was walking away from Robert Gadling, but he is gone, nowhere to be seen.

“Where did he go?” you ask, panicking. Your answers are gone. You should’ve gone straight to the other man: Dream.

“I don’t know, love. I’m sorry.” Hob’s voice rises with anger. “He knows I’m right, about him being lonely. But he can’t stand to admit that he’s wrong. He’s a coward. A lonely, stuck-up, callous coward!”

You sink to your knees, defeated.

November 17th, 1915. Salem, Massachusetts

You hear the rumors.

Sleepy sickness… spreading first from Wych Cross, England… reaching the United States…

It’s a calm and cozy night in Salem when you, warm and tired and alone in your house, eventually fall asleep against your wishes. You’ve been afraid of sleep for the past few months. And sleep takes you then; if you had been conscious of it, it would’ve had to take you by the ankles, kicking and screaming.

You do not wake up again.

#wasteland baby!#the sandman #the sandman netflix #netflix sandman #lord morpheus #morpheus the sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus sandman #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman spoilers

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lucasxholt · 5 days ago

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👻 Haunted

Luke had been relishing in his ability to cause chaos among the partygoers. Given how the last few months had panned out, between his recon mission, Gabriel being in the hospital, and the recent attacks, it left little time for fun. Poking fun and messing with each character on their quest kind of reminded him of his time as a malevolent spirit, without the violence, anger, and terror that he'd inflicted. He was half drunk on wine out of his teacup with a group of blind mice when he saw the flicker of a shadow at the corner of his eye. When he turned, momentarily distracted by one of the blind mice's harrowing tales, it vanished, before appearing across his field of vision from the opposite direction. Clearing his throat, he excused himself to go and do the same with his head, walking near some trees to get some air away from any witnesses. He was leaning against a tree, taking a few deep breaths when he heard Emily's voice to his right.

Looking up in surprise, he was nearly knocked to his feet at the sight of his late wife, smiling at him with those deep blue eyes he'd been dreaming of for centuries. "Hey there, farm boy," she mused as her voice sang like angels to Luke's ears. A sloppy, tipsy smile came to his features as he pulled her close not even questioning whatever magic was at play. She caressed his face tenderly, as he pressed his forehead to hers, wanting to savor as much of this moment as he could.

"Daddy!" The various voices of his children could be heard carried on the wind between the trees. He looked up with glee, wanting nothing more to hold his children once again. When his search came up empty around them, he turned back to Emily, his face distorting in horror as he backed away slowly.

Looking back at Emily, he saw burns completely covering her body as she reached a charred hand towards him. "Emily?!" he called out in a panic as she came closer, Luke backing away and tripping on the roots of a nearby tree. "You did this!" she shrieked in pain, peeling off her flayed flesh in ribbons and throwing it at his feet. Luke backed away on his forearms in fright. "No... No! I tried to save you! I-I..." he stammered, shaking his quickly sobering head. "Daddy?!" he could hear his four children, screaming his name in fear, begging and pleading for help. Luke shook his head, smashing his palms into his temples to shake himself or whatever curse was at play away. Suddenly several sets of large arms scooped him up and dragged him to his feet, pulling at him with torches and pitchforks. "Luke!" he could hear the screams of Gabe, Matthew, and several others that he cared for in the distance, just far enough away that Luke couldn't see them, but he knew they were in unimaginable agony. "Stop it! Let me go!" he shouted, fighting off the dozens of arms that held him back. He roared with anger as he continued to fight off those who held him down as he tried desperately to reach those he loved but it felt futile.

Suddenly he saw someone breaking through the crowd and coming towards him. He couldn't see his face through the parades of people screaming and trying to pull him apart until he came face to face with himself. It was Luke, human, bloody, and crazed. Turner the Terror. "you killed my family," he seethed, the blistering anger boiling off of his skin. He got right into Luke's face, his insidious eyes connecting with Luke's "And now you're going to pay." The man grabbed Luke's head and began squeezing, appearing to conjure his essence and pouring into Luke. Suddenly Luke was let go but all he could feel was fear, anger, and rage, filling every pore of his body. The hands that were squeezing his head, he now realized, were his own as he squirmed on the forest floor in shrieking agony. He managed just enough clarity to start running, the bloody, carnivorous mob led by his wife, children, and himself chasing after him, out for blood...

#luke #lask #vchalloween2024 #trigger warning- blood-gore-torture?#Idk what this turned into but here ya go :)

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aussiepineapple1st · 2 years ago

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RE4 Journey (Part 2)

Part 1 | Next

Words: 1,382

Warnings: Blood, Angst, Injury, Slight Fluff.

Leon continues to lean against you, his head resting on your right shoulder as you look around trying to think of what to do, your Partner has just clearly been run in with a pitchfork and was now bleeding all over himself and the ground he sat upon. "Think (Y/N), Think!" You say as you start to rummage around in one of the pouches you had strapped to the side of your left thigh and try finding medical supplies, anything would... Wait! You gently rest Leon against the wall once again and remove your vest, your fingers pulling the tight velcro apart then place the vest on Leon's legs as you remove his brown jacket. It was going to be a tight fit but tight was what he needed right now.

"Leon? Hey, buddy, you still with me?" You ask while pulling him away from the wall to get the vest over is head, feeding his arms through the holes so it was snug on his torso. Leon only gives you a groan followed by a grunt as his wounds were manipulated and pressure being pushed on them as you pull the thick velcro straps around to tighten and secure the vest like a torniquet. "Can you breathe?" You ask once you had secured everything on him, pulling his jacket back on his so as to keep his core body warmth as long as possible. "Barely... but that could be the blood in my lung." He answered slowly and parshley slurred.

"Good, I mean not good, but you know what I mean." You say as you gather everything, placing Leon's handgun in it's holster on his right side before pulling his left arm over your shoulders and standing, pulling him to his own feet as you do. He was almost dead weight but you could feel the muscles in his body contracting as he tries his best to help you out, you may be strong, but he knew you weren't THAT strong to be able to carry him. "I'm good... let's go." Leon instructs as he holds his right right hand to the section on his torso the punctures were, his every inhale sounded strained and you could almost hear the gurgling from the blood in his right lung.

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

Rounding a corner through a thin track between two large hills you see an odd coloured glow coming from a lonely standing torch, it's flame not a normal yellow/orange, but purple with a white center. Standing behind a table was a man cloaked in robes, your first thought was enemy and step beck around the corner. "Hello Strangers, it seems your friend needs a pick-me-up, why not come over and see what I have?" The man's gruff voice called out to you. He seemed to not be hostile, taking a look at Leon his weight had become heavier, his head hanging forwards as you adjust your grip on him. He really needed help and this man was seeming to wanting to help? Huffing you round the corner once again and walk over to the man while looking side to side just in case there was any of those crazed townsfolk around, all was clear.

"I need something to help with puncture wounds." You say gently setting Leon on the ground and lean him against two rocks keeping him sat up. "I have this." He answers holding up a white spray can with a singular black + crudely drawn on it. "You're joking?! My partner is bleeding out and you want me to just spray him?! Is there a doctor around? And not one of those insane villagers, they did this." You say clearly angry and scared you might loose your Love. "Just give it a try, you are desperate, are you not?" He says opening is arms and shrugging his shoulders, the cloth covering his face but you could clearly hear the smile he had as he spoke.

Looking back down to Leon who was motionless and sigh heavily before turning back to the man. "Fine.." You say stepping forwards and reaching for the can but it was pulled away replaced with a shaking index finger. "Uh uh uuuh.. You need to buy it." The man said now holding his hand out to you with his palm up. "What?" You respond your nose scrunching up in frustration before you kneel down and rummage through one of Leon's pouches remembering he had been collecting the some coins the people were dropping when they would fall to the ground dead. "Here.. Is this enough?" You say placing a handful of coins in the cloaked man's hand before he hands over the spray.

Not wasting any time you start to remove Leon's layers once again, pulling the thick straps of velcro apart before lifting it up over his head, his blood wiping on the pale skin of his relaxed face. You wipe the blood as best you could from his face with the back of your glove causing his eyes to open. He looked tired, his pupils still dilated and the colour seeming to be fading from his usual blue eyes as you shake the can in your free hand. Leon's eyes are drawn from yours to the can in your hand. "You going to paint me like a French girl?" He jokes as he winced mid chuckle. "Just stay still, I don't know what this is but the man over there seems to think this will make you better." You assure as you lift his shirt, finally seeing the extent of his wounds.

Four very distinct holes diagonally running from his right peck to the center of his stomach, weeping and spilling out small amounts of blood with each beat of his heart. You close you eyes and hold the can tight before turning to look back at the hooded man, he gives you a single nod and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to proceed. You were just wasting time and turned back to Leon then spray the substance over his wounds, emptying the can. As it touches the wounds it begins to start sizzling and foaming, Leon clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles contracting as the corners of his mouth turns down in pain. instinctively you hold his hands on his lap while flicking your eyes between his wounds and Leon's face.

After a few seconds the sizzling and foaming had stopped, you wipe away the pink and red foam to see very crude scaring. "The hell?" You say looking back to the man who had sold it to you, what was this stuff? You think as your attention turns back to Leon as his hands had become limp in yours, his grunting silenced all of a sudden. "Leon?" You ask as you scoot closer, wiping your bloodied hands on your shirt and pants before taking his face gently in them. No response. "Loen?!.." You ask again, more panic in your voice this time. "Bastard!" You say after turning to the hooded man, about to stand and make your way over to him when your wrist was grabbed. Immediately you swing back around to meet Leon's blue eyes looking at you. "I'm okay..." He answers as his head falls back to the rocks keeping him up with a bonk.

Tears fill your eyes as relief washes over you and you could hear Leon's breathing seeming to ease, still slightly gurgling from the blood in his lung but he seemed to be alright, the colour slowly coming back into his cheeks as you lean back over to him grabbing his cheeks in your hands again, but this time leaning in to press your lips to his bloodied ones. "I thought I was going to loose you. I don't know what that stuff was but it seemed to have sped up the healing process." You explain and press another quick kiss to Leon's lips his hand reaching up to rest on the middle of your back as he gave you a peck back. "To be honest I thought I was a goner for a moment there as well. But I think we should get some more of those cans.." He says touching the area on his torso the new scars were.

Part 1 | Next

Please let me know if you would like a continuation or new story. I will be doing others and if you have any request don't be shy to send them to me through the asking thing!

#leon #leon s kenndey #leon kenndey #leon x reader #leon x f!reader #blood #angst #injury

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writingbylee · 1 year ago

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Run Home, Lion Cub

Rating: Mature

CW/TW: violence, language, guns, Tymon Lannister (cause that man needs his own warning)

lots of love and hugs to @queenopresskenobi for letting me be a part of this world and write for her amazing characters!! if you want to read more from this Western AU, definitely check out her My Dear Elayna series!!

divider by @samspenandsword

“Howdy.” Lyanna said as she pulled the door open, a smile creeping across her face.

Her black bandana had been pulled under her chin, but her hat blocked her eyes. Tymon Lannister sputtered as he went backwards down the front steps and back with the men he brought with him.

“You’re not…” Lyanna heard someone in the crowd say and she snorted.

“How embarrassing this must be for you, lion cub, to fail so spectacularly.” Lyanna tilted her head up ever so slightly so they could all see the glint in her eyes as she rested a hand on one of her revolvers and started casually tapping her fingers against it.

“We have no quarrel with you, Stark.” Tymon called and Lyanna let out a low chuckle at that. Her off hand was slung on the front of her belt, and she kept her good hand hovering over the revolver.

“You sure about that, lion cub?” She watched as Tymon bristled at being called a cub. “Last I recall, you shot one of my men. Not to mention…” Lyanna trailed off as she looked at the crowd behind Tymon with their torches and pitchforks.

“Where is Elayna, Stark?” Tymon spat it out in the air, as if Lyanna’s last name was an insult.

“Oh, the woman who left your slimy ass at the altar?” Lyanna’s voice was full of mockery. “She’s right where she belongs. Out of your reach. So I suggest you take these men and get off this goddamn property.” Lyanna kept politely smiling, as if this was a conversation she had everyday. Her off hand didn’t move from the front of her belt, but she twitched the fingers of her good hand over her revolver. Some of the men in the crowd took a step back at the motion. Lyanna’s smile curled away from politeness and bent towards cruel.

“You’ll regret this, Stark.” Tymon called and Lyanna laughed.

“Oh I surely doubt that, lion cub.” Lyanna said. After a tense moment of silence, she used her off hand and drew her revolver. Before any of Tymon’s men could react, Lyanna had already fired, shooting Tymon in the shin. He cried out in pain as his leg crumpled beneath him, and one of his men grabbed under his arm to keep him standing. “Now get!” Lyanna raised her voice, gun still pointed at Tymon. “Before I decide to start aiming higher.” Tymon grumbled and motioned for his men to get back on their horses. “Seban!” Lyanna called out, and a man with a dark beard stopped moving and barely turned to face her. “I have a letter for you. From your sister.” Lyanna tossed the letter out into the still night and Seban walked the few steps to pick it up from the ground.

“Thank you.” Seban said it so quietly that Lyanna almost missed it. She gave him a nod and then turned her attention back to the rest of the men.

“Run home, lion cub!” Lyanna called out in Tymon’s direction. “Do me a favor, spit on Tywin’s grave when you get there?” Lyanna smiled again at Tymon’s tense posture on his horse as he whipped his head around to glare at her.

“Lyanna.” She heard Will whisper from the window behind her. “That was uncalled for.” She shrugged and kept her gaze forward.

“Eh. Worth it.”

divider by @samspenandsword

Follow @princess-lyanna-stark for more about Lyanna Stark!!

#cause people seemed excited about lyanna earlier this week hehe #game of thrones #game of thrones oc #western au #game of thrones with lee #written by lee #oc lyanna stark #oc will snow #other people's ocs #oc: elayna reyne #oc: tymon lannister #oc: seban reyne

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lyon-amore · 2 years ago

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What if...? Duskwood Chapter 20

Chapter 19 ————————————————————————————-

Hannah's search had been cancelled because Cleo's mother had received threatening letters and pictures of her daughter. They were worried about what she might happen if they searched for her in the forest. And better like this. I don't think it's a good idea for them to put themselves in danger. Richy at least managed to give me Jennifer's last name. Jennifer Manson. But… After doing some research on my own, I couldn't find any Jennifer with that last name. But I did find something much more interesting…

It had only been a week since Jake had been gone. It was really being harsh.

I look at the ceiling of my room thinking about work. There were still rumors about me even though the video had been deleted. I'm supposed to at least get up and be productive, but… This whole situation is getting to me. Again… Henry settles on my pillow and starts chewing on my hair to get my attention. "I'm up now Henry... I'm up now..." I sit up and look at him "Even so, you shouldn't eat my hair to get me up." Henry curls up and begins to fall asleep. Perfect, he wakes me up for him to fall asleep. I sigh getting up at the end of the bed. My life had changed a lot, it was no longer calm at all. People who knew me whispered and talked behind my back, luckily, Lian and Aiden defended me from anyone who spoke badly about me and also didn’t ask me why I had been accused. They were relying on what I had already told the director, that Lilly and I were on bad terms and that she accused me of it. It had even reached the ears of my family. I had to mute the chat group to get them to leave me alone.

If this was here in the big city, I don't even want to imagine in Duskwood, with everyone who knew Hannah. They would surely search for me with torches and pitchforks.

I was going to go to the bathroom to get ready when there was a knock on the door. I hope it's not another neighbor asking me if they're going to have to worry about whether or not I'm going to kidnap them. When I open the door, my smile widens when I see the boy who was at the door. "Stephan!" I jump up to greet my cousin. He was the only one who had trusted me, defending me from the whole family. "How are you, cousin?" He greeted me, giving me a big hug. "A little better." "Yeah, that's why you're in your pajamas at noon at twelve." I look at myself and roll my eyes. Well, I'm at my house. Although it's rare for me to be this way, I would normally be all fixed up and ready to go. "Are you here because of the video?" I ask, letting him pass. "Well, it's better to talk about this situation face to face than over text," he says as we walk. "And I got worried when you said on Twitter that you were leaving for a while." We go to the living room and sit on the sofa. Henry appears and starts sniffing at him. Yes, he smells like Sky. Luckily whenever he comes, he tries not to hug him goodbye because of my allergy. And when I go to his house, I always take allergy pills with me. "How is Sophia?" I ask, picking up Henry and pet him. "Let's say that she doesn't want you to appear in any of her videos again" he answers while caressing Henry's nose ", she don't want you to tarnish her influencer image." "Good, sometimes I feel like she used me." I breathe a sigh of relief. It had been a long time since I had participated in a video of his girlfriend, so I don't care. Besides, I did it because she's Stephan's girlfriend, to get along with her. "Have you talked to that girl again?" he asks me now. "Lilly?" He nods and I make a sound of contempt "I'd rather not have anything to do with her, she's the worst thing I've ever come across... Apart from Christian." "But what exactly happened? I mean, how have you been accused like this?” I shrug and he continues. "The greatest crime you have ever committed is going into illegal places as a teenager to look for ghosts." "Let's not remember that stage!" I put my hands over his mouth, teasing. I don't want to have to tell my cousin the truth about how I got into this, he's terrified of hackers and I'm sure he would advise me not to continue the investigation. Or worse, that I forget about Jake because "he's dangerous" "I don't know, really. Because I didn't even talk to Lilly, just the rest of our mutual friends." "I just hope she don't get you in any more trouble" he answers harshly, ". I may be a pacifist, but if I have to defend my family, I will." "Oh, how cute cousin is." I pinch his cheeks and he pushes my hands away laughing. "I have all under control, don't worry.” I gesture with my hands for him to relax. Stephan's cell phone starts ringing. When he looks at it, he puts it back in his pocket and sighs. "Who was?" “Sophia” he answers tiredly, “. She didn't want me to come see you because she doesn't want me to get involved with you to tarnish her image. " "Really?" "If I'm honest, things aren't going well" I see how he plays with his necklace, a guitar pick "maybe I don't like being used either." I look sadly at Stephan. It's hard to see what's going on in a relationship but not be able to get into it because it's something between them. The phone rings again and again he sighs. "Go" I finally say. ". I don't want her to be mad because of me." "But I just arrived... " "It's okay" I smile at him and shrug, ", I'll be fine." He is quite hesitant to get up from the couch. I know he traveled a long way to get to the city. Valley Of Silence wasn’t close, it was a few hours from the city.

I walk him to the door and before leaving, he looks at me doubtfully. "One thing" he rests his hand on the knob, squeezing hard ", the man Lilly talks about in the video… do you know him?" Stephan might not be able to hear it, but my heart is racing when he's named Jake indirectly. I want so much to see him again... "No, not at all." I inadvertently nod. My mind fails me because I'm thinking about him. I have to be careful next time. "Phew, thank goodness" he puts a hand to his head, calm ", seriously, I was really terrified that you had something with a guy so creepy that he likes to spy on people" I'm lucky that Stephan came out with talent for music but not for research "who knows if he's a pervert?" "Well, I don't know anything about him" I pat him on the shoulder, with a laugh ", but don't accuse people so lightly without knowing the truth or having some proof of it, okay?" "Right, you're right, you're the family investigator." He ruffles my hair, tangling it more than he already was "Goodbye Macie." "See you soon, Stephan." He hugs me goodbye and leaves.

Again I’m alone. I shower and change my pajamas. I would have to go to work, but I have made the excuse that I got sick. Until my friends tell me it's safe to go back, I think I'll skip a few days to go. "Adult…Responsible…" I say to myself, circling the coffee "Yeah of course…" I take a sip and sigh "I don't think I can use this excuse of being sick for a long time."

Jessy talks to me and I partly appreciate it. The group is the only connection I have with Jake to be able to inform him when he returns, but I feel like I've betrayed him… Even though they've driven me crazy once in a while, they're part of my life now. They are my friends. And I never thought I would find someone as great as a friend in Jessy. Our conversation is based on Jake and if I can tell her something about him. All I'm telling her is something that was obvious, which is that we're looking into Hannah's files in the cloud. I can't tell her more about him, like the government is after him and even if I could tell her something more private, I wouldn't. Jake's safety comes first. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jessy Macie, what if he introduced you to the group because he wants to pin it all on you? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone wants me to mistrust Jake. Everyone doubts him. I run a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. God... It terrifies me to think that it could be like this because of everyone's words.

No. He is not like that. I have seen it myself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie No, that’s definitely not the case

Jessy Please think about it ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At least I appreciate everyone's concern. It's nice to know that even if they don't know Jake like I do, they have a little bit of dignity to still trust me after that stupid video. I let Henry out into the garden and I do some stretching to relax. I feel that my body is so tense that I cannot move well. Either that or I spend too much time in bed looking for clues, talking to the group, and hoping they'll stop asking me about Hannah. I've blocked too many people I'm short of fingers to count. Even if Lilly deleted the video, people still pass my number around. If it wasn't for Jake, I'd change my phone number. "We breathe in... We breathe out..." I repeat over and over again, when I hear the notification sound. Better prepare in case it's not Jake and it's someone else accusing me. I take my phone out of my pocket and smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake Hello Macie.

Macie Jake! 😄

Jake :) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I make a happy sound upon seeing the emoticon. I imagine his smile as he gazes at me with his forest green eyes. I sit on the towel, still not removing my smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake I just wanted to find out how you were doing.

Macie With you things are easier somehow

Jake I am sorry to hear that.

Macie Do you have time right now?

Jake I am going to make time, yes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I close my eyes and imagine Jake with me. As if I was imagining the scenario as I write to him. It's not that I mentally sane, but it's what keeps me calm knowing that he's finally contacted me. I imagine a kind of invisible barrier between us. He hiding in some abandoned building and me in my garden. “According to Dan, his car accident wasn’t his fault,” the imaginary me tells the imaginary Jake. I sounds pretty sad now that I think about it... Well, I'll bear with it. ”If you listen to him, it was the man without a face.” “And what do you think about that?” The imaginary Jake looks at me curious to know my opinion. "Not much." I would roll my eyes, knowing the situation Dan was in. "Mmm," Jake begins to think, cupping a hand to his chin. ”The prior warning is missing, isn’t it?” "Instead there was only prior whiskey" Jake chuckles at my annoyance. I look like a mother angry with her son ". In any case, he has asked Richy to examine the car" he nods and I continue with the news ". The forest search was cancelled.” I show him the photos of the kidnapper's message and Cleo's. "That means that Hannah is in the forest for sure." He peers at the photos. "Yep, we got that far too." I put the phone away and focus on it again. ”The others are saying that the search would have been unsuccessful anyway. ” "What are you planning to do now?" I appreciate his interest in the group and his opinion. “We currently don’t have any alternative,” I say, crossing my arms. ”I am not going to let them go into the forest.” "I understand.” "The mysterious Jennifer Mason" I begin to narrate. ”, the whole thing happened more than ten years ago.” Jake nods, listening to me. ”. Her body was found in the Duskwood forest” just like the corpse they found... I don't think it's a coincidence ”. The killer was neverfound and neither her, nor the killer appeared to be from Duskwood” Jake nods again, concentrating on my words. ”That was all.” "This information can potentially get us a huge step closer" Jake smiles at me. ”. Good job Macie.” I blushed at his words and his smile. "Let me look into something real quick" he starts typing fast on the keyboard OH! Until now that I'm imagining it, I didn't remember how satisfying it was to see him , my stomach tingles at the memory. ”Strange” he looks confused at the screen ”who did you get this information from?” "From Richy," I answered quietly, "Why do you ask?" "There is no entry about anyone named Jennifer Manson." So he hasn't found anything either. I decided to make the search more extensive when I also failed, with words. I want to save this information for the future. ”But that’s not going to stop us. I am going to take care of this a little later." Jake gets up from the table and leans against it, getting closer to me. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?”

I look at the screen, reading his words. I can imagine him worried about me, because he would have a sad expression because of everything that is happening. "People are slowly starting to be pretty upset with you" I avoid looking at him, afraid of his reaction to being hurt "To them you are s suspect, Jake..." "As long as they trust you, everything is okay." I end up looking at him and his gaze is intense. "And you have to trust me. You do trust me, right?" I'm sure he's asking because he's worried after his confession that the government is persecuting him. I have kept secret that I know him or that I have seen him. Because that would mean he could lose you. "Of course I trust you." I answered quickly and determined. "I trust you too." I would love for him to really tell me this in his voice and not have to imagine it. "Only you. Don't ever forget that." What would I do after saying those words? Would he take my hand? Would he part my hair and then gently caress my face? I imagine then that the barrier can be crossed and that we can hold hands, feel his skin again. "I have some news too." I try to compose myself and I get curious. He already wanted to do a new investigation. "The police has received the phone log from Hannah's cell phone." "That means we also have the phone log." I say excitedly. I can finally investigate more! "Exactly right" Jake smiles and texts me the call log ". These are the phone calls Hannah made the day she was kidnapping." "Now it's starting to get interesting." I can't help it and quickly look at the list. I want to know who is behind these numbers. "I think we should find first find out which person is behind which number" he begins to walk around his area, focused. "That’s something I can still help you with" he looks at me, stopping in the place ". If these calls don’t provide us with any clues that we use we will dug further into the past." “This log will probably be very helpful." I want to be positive, I think this is going to serve us well. Would Jake look at me glad that I excited about this track? Or would he think I'm weird? "I totally agree with you." He would smile sweetly at me, for sure. He knows how much I love to investigate. "Let’s see, when you find out who is behind the number, note down the corresponding name." I look at the list and then at him, is it safe for him to help me? Maybe he is risking too much. "Why are you helping me?" I ask, a little worried. "Because there is a possibility that this may take up a lot of time," he sighs, tiredly. "And therefore I should help you, as far as I am able to at least" so... does that mean it's okay? Is he safe for now? ". Good. I am going to start from the bottom, you start from the top. This way we can meet in the middle." "Then, good luck to us both." I smile, wanting to start. I dial the first number: 22906. The answering machine in the Rogers' workshop picks up. Richy's. “I called the first number. It was Roger's Garage." “Nobody answered the phone." Jake tells me, disappointed. Or at least, I'm sure.

The atmosphere of my imagination is interrupted by the message from Jessy, apologizing for not having arrived on time. It seems that Hannah's car was in the garage that day and that she would talk to Richy to tell me about it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richy Hey there Macie 😁 Jessy said that you want to talk to me about something? 🙂

Macie When was the last time you spoke with Hannah?

Richy 🤔 Well, it must have been the day of the kidnapping.

Macie Can you give me some more details about that?

Richy I was finishing up with her car that morning, and I let her know that it was ready to be picked up She had brought it over a few days prior

Macie To be honest, I am little surprised to hear that

Richy I am really sorry in case I did fail to mention that to you 😞

Macie Yes, unfortunately you did

Richy ☹️ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't care if he put on that sad face, this is very serious. From the beginning he should have told me who saw her. It's always important to know, and have him told the police? Because any little detail could help in the search. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richy Well, let me make that up to you right now Ask away, whatever you want 👍

Macie So Hannah was with you before she disappeared?

Richy Yes. She stopped by after I called her to pick up her car. That was the last time I saw her 🙁

Macie What was wrong with Hannah's car?

Richy The oil pan If I had to guess what cracked the oil pan, I would assume she hit a pothole But I didn’t ask her about it 😋 Just in case any of that helps you somehow 🤔 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing strange at the moment, I don't know why I expected something worse. I guess because Hannah said someone was following her. Discarded the idea that they could have tampered with her car. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Did you notice anything about Hannah?

Richy No. Nothing at all

Macie Not even about her behavior?

Richy She was happy-go-lucky as always I walked her over to her car and we had a brief conversation She gave me a tip. I even still remember the exact amount €5.13 She had it in her car. She always keeps some change in the cup holder behind the emergency brake ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, Richy is a mechanic, I don't think it's strange for him to get into a car, but if it was just the oil pan, why get into the car? Was there something that caught his attention? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie You really remember everything

Richy I've thought about this a lot, ever since she disappeared 😕 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, thanks for telling me a long time ago. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Do you know where Hannah went after that?

Richy No

Macie You've known Hannah for a long time, haven't you?

Richy Yes. More or less since I can put two sentences together ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I mean, we could say that Richy and Hannah must know each other pretty well and trust each other, so why not tell me beforehand? If she's one of your best friends, isn't it easier to cooperate with me? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Richy You know I might have been the last one of us to see her ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seriously… I think I'm surrounded by irresponsible people. That he hasn't told the police about this is a little weird. Any detail is very important, even if it doesn't seem important.

We end the conversation with the photo of Dan's car. I'm really mad at him… Drunk driving… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake I called the next number from the log. And this time I had more luck: It was Thomas. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again I return to imagination mode and resume my conversation with him. "Oh" He looks at me as if he remembered something. ", hold on. Did you happen to get a hold of Richy or Jessica? " He keep calling her Jessica. I'm sure Jessy wouldn't like it at all. It's amazing that he's still jealous of her. "Yes, I've spoken to Richy," I answered, remembering all the information. "He repaired Hannah's car.” I start listing the way Jake usually does. "He didn’t noticed anything strange about her behavior" he nods and I continue ". She gave him a tip. " "Thanks Macie." Jake squats down to level with me, since I'm sitting on the floor. "It is upmost importance that we find out as much as possible about the day she disappeared." I start thinking about everything Richy has told me. My anger begins to show. Withholding this information is quite serious. “Something was strange about the info Richy gave me…” I comment to Jake. “The conversation was like…” I think he hasn't told me until now, which makes me wonder ”Like he was trying to hide something." I finally say. It seemed as if he had avoided telling me until now. The others have always offered to help me with information, except for Richy. "Interesting," he begins to think about my words. "These are the kind of things I need to fully depend for you for." "Still, just take some time and read through the chat please." “Of course” he sits up and lets out a long breath, “. Could you talk to Thomas about his call with Hannah?" “Sure, I can do that." “Thank you. I have to go. I spent too much time already" I’m sad to read the message from him. I was going to be without him again. " I am sorry, that you are on your own with so many things." "I am going to send Lilly the bill." I teases, and he smile at me. I feel a pang in my chest. I don't know when I'll talk to him again. “I miss you.” I admit even out of my imagination. Looking at the screen. "I miss you too Macie." I want to imagine that he would tell me by caressing my cheek, that he would even support his forehead with mine while we remain a bit calm. I wish I could even hug him. "More than I can explain." He takes my breath away even reading it. I think… I would like more than a hug… I wish he would kiss me after this.

Jake logs out and the whole scenario in my head disappears. I lie down on the towel with the phone attached to my chest. The sky was so much prettier when I was talking to Jake. "I'm fine, Henry," I tell him when I feel him tug at my pants. "I'm alive. Don't worry.” I sit up and poke him on the nose, laughing. I send a message to Thomas, that he write me as soon as he read my message.

I get a message. Oh God… Not again… -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kay Is it really true? You did something to that one girl?

Macie You are not going to get a response from me ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Kay disconnects and I throw myself in the towel. Let this end soon...

Chapter 21

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #everbyte #everbyte studio

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ezribex · 1 year ago

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FFXIV Write Day 13

“Be sure to check the cellars and the floorboards for hidden caches,” my mother reminded me as Baasan and I shouldered our packs and hefted our weapons.

“Yes mother, I understand.” Baasan and I had been raiding abandoned farmsteads for weeks now, starting with the home we’d left when the Sin Eaters struck. It was strange, to go back to the place I’d lived my entire life, familiar and dangerous at the same time. I had mainly been afraid of running into my father, who had been bitten while covering our family’s escape. Would I recognize him, transformed? It ended up not being something I needed to worry about. As I learned eventually, Sin Eaters are very mobile. Plus, we were always careful, waiting for the Sin Eaters to decamp in order to feed before heading in.

My mother had slipped so easily into my father’s leadership position among the remaining villagers that I felt a little slighted. Wasn’t I supposed to be the man of the household now? At sixteen, I was almost a man grown, I should be able to provide for my family. I discussed this with the other youth in our sorry band of young children and elderly people, and together, Baasan and I convinced my mother to let us loot abandoned houses for food.

The stretch of Kholusia through which we marched was desolate, with most people having left their homes and villages to seek safety in Eulmore. My mother said that this was a trap and that Eulmore didn’t care for its people and that she would rather die than live in the Gatetown. Ok, fine, I guess. We were headed for the Crystarium, then, and what a long road it would be.

Baasan and I set out from the well-hidden encampment, packs empty to accommodate whatever we found. I carried a pitchfork retrieved from a barn and Baasan carried his father’s old hunting bow. He practiced with it at camp and was becoming a better shot, though we hadn’t needed to shoot any Sin Eaters. At least, not yet.

The eternal daylight beat down upon us as we walked along an overgrown path with tall grass closing in. “Hey Mads,” Baasan said casually, from his usual place behind me.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel kind of bad, raiding people’s houses like this? Like, what’s the difference between looting and banditry, morally?”

I shook my head. “You’re too soft, Baasan. These people abandoned their homes for Eulmore’s Final Pleasures. They don’t need any of their old stuff, but we do. We’ve got women, children, and old people to feed. We’ve gotta step up and be men.”

Baasan didn’t reply so we continued our walk in silence. When we finally came to our destination, the buildings looked to all be burned down. Only a few walls and chimneys were still standing. There were no Sin Eaters in sight. We quietly got to work, searching for hidden cellars, as my mother had told us.

Stepping through the charred debris was hazardous, and therefore slow-going. We both knew that an infected scrape could be deadly as our group was running low on medicinal herbs. I was about to give up when Baasan shouted, “Hey Mads, over here!”

I walked over to the building he’d been investigating as fast as I could, and sure enough, he’d found a trap door leading to a cellar. The door itself was metal. We lit a torch and descended. My stomach growled, hoping to see jars and jars of preserved food. Maybe even some medicine. Something valuable had to be stored in a cellar with a metal door and stone steps.

To my disappointment, it seemed to just hold shelves of books and a desk with some quills and parchments. “Wow,” breathed Baasan, who was carrying the torch. He shined it around the room, which, while small, seemed pretty cozy.

“I wonder if the person who used this kept any snacks hidden in their library,” I said, opening the desk drawers. No snacks, only writing implements. In the top drawer, something shiny caught my eye. Jewelry? Not useful immediately but maybe we could trade it if we ran into a caravan. I reached out to grab the pendant, and it immediately felt warm in my hand. A blue crystal affixed to a chain, presumably to be worn around the neck. Would you like to protect your family? A voice sounded in my head. I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t my own voice.

“What have you got there, Mads?” Baasan asked.

“Some jewelry, I think,” I answered, slipping the chain over my head and letting the crystal rest upon my chest. It was pleasantly warm. “Maybe we can sell it if we run into anyone on the road.”

“Good idea. Hey, can you hold the torch for a few? I want to check and see if any of these books will be useful, or if this person kept any maps of the area.” I nodded and took the torch, watching Baasan carefully look through the assorted books and papers. I would like nothing more than to protect those I travel with, I thought, to myself or–to no one in particular. I wasn’t expecting a response, but I got one.

Good.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite

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bleachanimefan1 · 2 years ago

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Resident Evil: Biohazard Part Five

Castellan Castle,

As Leon, Mila arrived with Ashley to reach the extraction point as they took another path leading out of the village. As they crossed the bridge up ahead was a large cabin as well. Leon and Mila heard noises behind them as well as to the side as they saw many villagers carrying pitchforks and torches. They had nowhere else to go but the cabin in front of them.

"What are we going to do?!" Ashely cried out.

"Hate to say it but we're sandwiched in alright. Quick, in that cabin!" Leon shouted. The three ran in and Leon quickly locked the door behind them.

"Leon!" Leon and Mila were surprised to see Luis was there as well. He tossed Leon a plank and Leon used it to bar the door.

"Hey, you two, small world, eh?" He smiled at Leon and Mila before noticing Ashely with them.

"Well, I see that you found your missing senorita!"

"This "senorita" has a name. Who are you?" She demanded.

"Ho ho, excuse me, your highness." Luis laughed and made a small bow. "Perhaps the young lady might want to introduce herself first before asking someone his name?"

"My name's Ashley Graham, the president's daughter." Ashley frowned at him. Luis turned to Leon and Mila.

"Is she...Well, you know."

"Don't worry, she's cool." Leon spoke.

"Ehh, never mind. There's supposed to be some obvious symptom before you turn into one of them anyway." Luis replied.

"Like coughing up blood?" Mila pointed out. Luis quickly turned to her.

"So, it's already started with..." Mila jerked her thumb over to Leon.

"With Leon. Apparently, I'm immune. The eggs never hatched inside of me. Your two "friends" weren't so happy about it when they found out." Luis sighed, shaking his head.

"Then we don't have much time."

"Uh, guys!" Everyone looked to see Ashley pointed to the widows and saw the villagers coming towards the cabin.

"Ashely! Upstairs!" Leon shouted. Mila took Ashley and ran up the stairs, hiding her in a cabinet.

"Stay quiet and don't make a sound." Mila told her. Ashely quickly nodded her head and Mila ran back down the stairs, meeting up with Luis and Leon who were boarding up the windows to keep the villagers out. Leon and Luis both pulled out their guns and Mila pulled out hers as well, bracing themselves.

"Okay. It's game time." Luis said.

The group fought off the relentless villagers which seemed to never end as they just kept coming. Several managed to break through the barricade on the windows, climbing into the cabin. Leon, Mila, and Luis quickly took them out. But up on the floor above them, the widows broke. Mila ran up the stairs, while Luis and Leon continued to hold them off down below. Mila kicked the ladders down, knocking the villagers that were climbing up them, to stop more from getting in. Soon the cabin began to become crowded as the group was completely surrounded. Leon and Luis fired more rounds and Mila saw a grenade sitting on a crate. She quickly grabbed it and tossed it and group of ganados that were approaching Leon and Luis.

"Fire in the hole!" Luis and Leon quickly got out of the way from the blast as the grenade exploded, taking the villagers out.

"Ai yah, a little warning next time would be nice!" Luis hissed.

"You're welcome." Mila smirked at him. Leon stopped when he noticed that several villagers were backing away from him. They soon left the cabin, followed by several more as they left the group alone. Luis and Mila lowered their guns, wondering, as well.

"Looks like they're backing off." Leon told them.

"Finally!" Mila exclaimed. "Hey, Ashley! It's safe to come out now!" Ashley came out and walked down the steps to Leon and Mila.

"So, what do we do now?" Mila asked Leon.

"The bridge is out. So, I guess we have no choice but to keep moving." He spoke. Leon noticed Luis walking away as he opened the door.

"I forgot something. You guys on ahead. I'll catch up with you." He told the group and left. Leon walked over, looking outside, seeing Luis walking away.

"Luis?" He murmured confused. Mila walked over to him.

"He said that he'll meet with us later. We need to keep moving." She told Leon. Leon nodded.

"Yeah."

Leon and Mila along with Ashely left the cabin and took a gondola riding it down another quarry. They walked a little further until they spotted a shed up ahead. Leon slowly walked closer to the door, listening. "I hear something inside. Ashely, you better stay out here. Go hide."

"Yeah." Ashley ran to hide in a dumpster nearby and Leon and Mila quietly walked in to investigate the shed. They pulled out their guns, looking around.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Mila called out. It was dead silence. Leon and Mila stepped further in and Mila stopped when she heard hard boots thudding on the floor behind them. Chief Mendez lunged out at the two agents and the two quickly dodged out of the way as he tried to grab them. Mila tried to fire a couple shots at him, but they didn't even faze him as the bullets barely grazed him. The priest slowly began to inch closer to Leon and Mila. Leon noticed a flammable barrel and kicked it over to Mendez. He quickly fired a shot at the barrel.

"Hasta luego." The barrel exploded, catching Mendez on fire as well as the entire shed as it quickly began to spread out more. Mendez pulled off his robes revealing to be taller underneath as he grew. His body stretched out like a centipede, approaching Mila and Leon. Mila climbed up a ladder to a platform while Leon distracted him. She noticed a large eye growing on the priests back and fired a couple of shots into it. Mendez let out a roar in pain and his body split in half, falling onto the floor, not moving. Mila hopped down, slowly approaching him. Leon did so as well, wondering if he was finally dead. The two agent's eyes widened in shock as they saw the upper half of Mendez body shot out at them. Leon and Mila quickly rolled out of the way, avoiding the fire that was spreading, fast. Mila looked up and saw Mendez swinging from the rafters. Mila and Leon fired their guns at him until Mendez finally flopped on the ground.

"Lord Saddler...forgive me." He let out a dying breath before finally collapsing on the floor, dead. The fire was spreading faster as the entire room began to be covered in smoke.

"We got to get out of her!" Mila coughed.

"Are you guys, okay?" Leon and Mila turned and saw a window and Ashely, standing outside.

"Let's go!" Leon and Mila quickly jumped out of the window before they were engulfed by the fire. Ashely ran over to the two asking them again if they were alright.

"We're fine." Leon told her.

The three continued on until they saw the castle not too far off within the distance. Leon opened the gate and Mila and Ashely walked past him as he closed it behind them. The three heard a loud horn blasting and quickly looked up the hill. It was a truck with two villagers driving it, speeding down the hill, fast! They were going to get run over! Ashley screamed. Leon tried to fire his rifle at the truck, but he ran out of bullets.

"Shit!" He saw Mila running directly towards the truck head on. "Wait!" Leon saw the truck coming at Mila. He stood in shock at what he witnessed when he saw Mila kick the truck to the side. The metal made a sickening crunch as she kicked it hard. The truck started to swerve out of control and fell on its side on the ground.

"Come on! Hurry!" Mila shouted at Leon and Ashley. Leon and Ashley quickly ran towards her. As they ran past the truck, the back opened and more villagers rushed at the group, followed by more people dressed in cult robes. Leon and Mila continued to run with Ashley until they reached the castle's draw bridge. Mila took Ashley and ran on ahead. Leon quickly fired a shot a the crank, reeling the bridge back, stopping the attackers from getting in.

They headed towards the castle and Mila opened the door and Leon and Ashley walked inside. As Mila followed them inside, closing the door behind them, three of them stopped when they heard someone cackling loudly. Mila's eyes widen when she saw a small man walking out to the banister above, looking down at them. There were two tall and slim creatures behind him, with hooded robes, one wearing black while the other, dark red. Mila took another look at the man as his golden eyes glanced over to her. He looked young in appearance, very pale sickly grayish skin with few small faint moles underneath his left eye on his cheek, one above his eyebrow and one on his right cheek. Had impish features, a rounded face, pointed ears. His hair was light grey in color, tied in a small ponytail with a blue ribbon. He clothes looked ancient and out of date with modern times, wearing a long blue coat with gold leaf stitching, a blue colonial hat with the same stitching as well as his coat, with an orange vest underneath and a white shirt in brown shorts and white tights and brown shoes. Mila felt her cheeks starting to burn, the more she stared at him. She couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"I was starting to wonder when you might notice us."

"Who are you?" Leon demanded.

"Me Ilamo Ramon Salazar, the 8th Castellan of this magnificent architecture. I have been honored with the prodigious power from the great Lord Saddler. I've been expecting you my brethrens." Salazar smirked, as he introduced himself.

#Resident evil #Fanfiction #Resident evil salazar #Resident evil leon #Resident evil 4 #Resident evil OC #Resident evil ramon salazar #read more

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