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alchemist-shizun · 5 years ago

Text

This time

Based on this post by @lance-alt my inspirational hero 🧡

Read on Ao3!

Ts general taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry @pistachio-lan @roses-bubbles @princessnoodlebug @wolfie979 @gigitheimposter (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Specific fic taglist: @bookwormscififan

Word Count: 1,455

Characters: Janus, Virgil, (Logan and Thomas mentioned)

Pairing(s): platonic Anxceit

Warning(s): Spoilers for SvS Redux, Self-destruction talk, illness/medical/hospital talk, allusions to crying, breathing difficulty (tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: There was a limit to everything, but Thomas hadn't yet realized that there was a limit to prioritizing others too. That's why Janus had to step in, but first there was someone else's consent he needed to get.

A/N: Hello how are you feeling I am destroyed in both good and bad ways. So, I put this little headcanon of mine where the sides get physically worse too as the state of Thomas's mind worsens. Other than that yes there are obviously spoilers and hope you enjoy, I don't know what I did I just let the words keep going out of my mind. That said, stan Janus. Have a good day!

✾

❝ It's all of the good that won't come out of us.

And how eventually our hands will just turn to dust

If we keep shaking them standing here on this frozen lake. ❞

Enough.

Enough was enough and Janus was sure none of them could take it any further.

He knew he'd been awake when he marched towards his door at almost four in the morning, the dark of the night hardly a villain against his memory of Thomas's apartment's furniture position.

There was no way he would have turned Janus down. Not in his state, anyway.

Deceit knocked on the door to Virgil's room and only heard a muffled, almost choked noise coming from it.

He ignored his heart sinking in his chest.

« It's me. I'm coming in. » he announced himself, not prepared but not surprised either by the scene laid before his eyes.

The room was a messier mess than usual, Virgil was contorted between his own blankets with the darkest shade of black under his eyes, starting to to expand in the shape of veins on his face, like tiny thunders had begun spreading across his cheeks.

It had been so dreadful ever since the choice in favour of the wedding had been made, seeing Thomas's mental health gradually decreasing every time the thought of the callback crossed his mind as well as the horrifying possibility of hurting his friends.

The dilemma replayed in his mind over and over again, unanswered questions rose and were shut down the moment they surfaced.

This is the right thing, he would think, I am being a good friend.

And yet it hurt so he would brush it off, increasing his dismay by the second.

Janus couldn't sit and watch any longer.

Not when they all were starting to break down. Not when … when that doleful sight of Virgil was displayed in front of him.

He swallowed the alarming feeling away and stepped closer until he was sitting on Virgil's bed, his hands folded in his lap.

One last furrowed glance to the rug on the ground before he finally spoke.

« I need your cooperation. »

« No- » Virgil's voice came out as a lament, strained and slurred.

« Please. » that was the first time in a long while that Janus had put his hand on his arm. « Do you believe I bare seeing you in these conditions? Seeing Thomas constantly fight with his subconscious with no resolution? » the need in his eyes prompted the other to listen.

Virgil fell quiet and Deceit saw his half lidded eyes barely able to stay open.

« If you want to hate me so much I'd prefer you do it in good shape rather than not being able to stand up. »

Virgil bit the inside of his mouth, partly because he kept himself from retorting something, partly because he had been wanting to cry for so long and it was getting too hard to keep it in, too impossible to fight down a urge he couldn't control.

« Listen. Next time I confront Thomas, don't show up. » Janus looked as the other's expression immediately changed.

Virgil surged up the best he could, eyes squinting and wary.

« What? »

« I need you to trust me, okay? » Janus put up his hands in front of his chest. « Just. Trust me. »

« Trust you? How. How do I not know- How can I be sure you're not going to twist their thoughts? How- »

« Thomas is destroying himself. » he shook his head in a slow motion. « You're one of the sides that should know this better than anyone else. We all see it, but we don't speak about it. We don't bring it up because changing the whole way of how you thought of your values is terrifying. »

« But the truth is we can't keep this self-destructive behaviour up until it disintegrates Thomas's health, both mental and physical. You don't take medicines only after a week of fighting with your high fever because you think you'd be able to bear feeling awful and now you're on the verge of going to the hospital. »

Virgil's stance got softer, more relaxed.

« The same way you shouldn't suppress your emotional pain until you break down and you're forced to take that metaphorical medicine for your mind, too. » Janus watched as his interlocutor finally nodded, Virgil knew deep in himself that everything with how Thomas was feeling was wrong.

Maybe … maybe he could allow letting Deceit …

« What I'm trying to get to is self-care is important as well and as much as it seems like the most obvious thing, we tend to brush it off for the sake of our reputation. Thomas doesn't understand it either and he needs to know he can't keep sacrificing his needs. »

« He's going to burn out. » Virgil's eyes were fixated on an unspecified spot, focused and filled with realization.

« Exactly. » Deceit nodded and Anxiety followed his reasoning.

« I … I don't know, I think I understand, but how are you going to tell him? I don't think he's going to listen with how strong his moral dilemmas are. »

« I talked to Logan. He's going to lend me a hand so I'm not alone in this and prove the integrity of my argument with stable facts. »

Janus stared into Virgil's eyes and still found uncertainty.

He turned his head away from him.

« I am going to twist their thoughts, Virgil, in one way or another this is going to affect their way of thinking eventually and I can't prevent it. It's not wrong, it's not evil or anything, it's a start. The entrance to the healing path. »

« It's not … it's not easy. »

« Oh, believe me, I know. » he let out a melancholy short laugh. « But this is the reason why I'm asking you to trust me. I know what I'm doing, Logan has my back too. If you don't trust me, trust him. I don't plan on ruining anything for you, okay? »

Virgil would have shot up if he weren't in the worst state he'd ever been, but his eyes still widened and his head turned to Janus in an instant.

Seeing that he got his attention, Deceit took the opportunity. « I don't want to step onto a podium and show that I'm better than everyone else here. I don't want to put any of you in a bad light. I just- I just want Thomas to be okay so that we can all stop tearing ourselves apart. And this is going to require me stepping in. »

Virgil's gaze fell down again and his bangs covered his eyes.

« I … Okay, I- »

« Virgil, one last thing. » Janus breathed in and focused on his glowing yellow gloves. « I don't want to change anything for you. I recognize you feel better with this new family you found and I don't want to take you from them. I don't want to prove I'm better in a “told you so” way so you can come back to us. » he took another breath and closed his eyes so the tears would stop forming. « I simply still care about you and it would shatter me more if things didn't work out with them either only because Thomas's mental state affected all of us. »

It was getting really hard to breathe for both of them.

Really hard.

Virgil wanted to respond, he wanted to let him know that he hated the fact that he was still mad at him but he couldn't prevent himself from feeling that way.

He wanted to say he still cared for him too but he hadn't yet realized and it still hurt too much.

« I just don't want you alone the way you are right now. » he murmured, then got up and paced towards the door.

He turned to give him one last glance and await his response.

Virgil was internally devastated and still didn't let others pierce through that.

« Okay. I'll be quiet, but you … please be patient with them. »

Janus nodded. « I will. I'll try to be as cautious as possible. » he turned and now the door was coming to a close.

« Take care of yourself, Virgil. »

There was a clicking sound and he was gone, with that old usual catchphrase he used to tell him.

Virgil fell back on his bed, unable to fight back the heavy breathing rising in his lungs.

One time. One time to trust the last person you'd trust on earth.

But this time he would let him.

This time, he'd let him save them all.

#purp's writings #ts spoilers #deceit sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts janus #ts deceit #platonic anxceit #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fic #read the warnings #long post

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bts-ficrecs · 5 years ago

Note

Any jungkook angst with no smut? Thank you!

yes hello. ‘tis me. Finally responding to you after 31498237 months.

i rarely read full on ANGST because my weak heart cannot take it, ok. So i don’t have a lot to share and most of the fics i read are pretty short. i don’t think any of what i read are series bc omg can u imagine a full on series with NO HAPPINESS!! I WOULD D WORD!!!!!!!1 sjadflakwe but i’ve included some angsty series in the 2nd half of this compilation!

as requested, no smut. i’m sorry if i missed something and it does have smut 🙏 also this ask made me realize how many angsty fics DO have smut involved, lololol we’re all a bunch of emo hornies and tbh,,, i’m not even gonna deny that 😂 ok ok i’ll stop rambling now.

* m/n: mai notes can also be read as “my notes”. ha ha ha wow i’m so punny.

HAVE READ:

⊱ ┄ A Fallen Bookmark on A Thursday Afternoon by @cutaepatootie

summary: He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

⊱ ┄ A Mark of Betrayal by @jimlingss

summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin…

⊱ ┄ A Piece of the Moonlight by @jimlingss

summary: For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

⊱ ┄ Blue Orchids by @inktae

summary: You were eighteen years old when Jimin’s name showed up on your hand.

m/n: this is like… one of THE og bts fics and i will always promote it bc IT DESERVES TO BE READ BY EVERYONE

⊱ ┄ Delirium by @sseudanym

summary: What to feel, when it’s all gone.

⊱ ┄ Give Me Your Hands (I Will Pick the Stars for You) by mindheist (AO3)

summary: I miss you like the moon misses the sun, destined to chase you until the end of time.

m/n: this is the only mxm fic here. it’s jungkook x taehyung :) i hope it won’t deter you from reading it though! it’s an absolutely beautiful story.

⊱ ┄ In My Head by obiwrites (AO3)

summary: The one where you and your long time boyfriend aren’t on the same page

⊱ ┄ It’s Enough by @dark-muse-iris

summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.

⊱ ┄ Mamihlapinatapai by @tayegi

summary: Mamihlapinatapai (noun): a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

⊱ ┄ My Beauty, My Blood by @7cypher

summary: With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

⊱ ┄ Resentment by obiwrites (AO3)

summary: It was an ugly kind of sad. The kind that kept you up at night, that weighed heavy in your chest and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, it made you feel like molasses—made your limbs drag and your body ache. You’d heard of the physical effects of depression—but you weren’t expecting this.

⊱ ┄ The Train of Lost Souls by @inktae

summary: The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options. You can choose to live or you can choose to move on. You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it. The choice is solely yours.

m/n: ok so this is technically a Hoseok fic since the reader is interacting with Hoseok, but Jungkook is a part of this fic and IT HURTS ME SO MUCH SO I HAD TO INCLUDE THIS OK

⊱ ┄ The Swirling Ways of Stars by @inktae

summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t feel like home.

⊱ ┄ Untitled by @floralseokjin

summary: He noticed you almost instantly. Like the wind blowing autumn leaves past his heels, he felt you near him. His body an instant constant buzzing as he stood inside the kitchen, back against the counter where he watched you outside. The separation of the living area and the balcony window feeling miles away regardless of how close he was to you…how close you were to him…

⊱ ┄ We Were by @gukyi

summary: Not all once upon a time’s have happily ever after’s.

⊱ ┄ Water Ripples by @inktae

summary: It may be a mistake caused by unreachable forces, but it is not a curse, like some may think. Meeting each other, being able to touch each other but being forbidden to stay close beyond the limits of the sea could be considered torture — where is the pleasure in getting a taste of something you cannot have, an ephemeral spark in the night? in getting wings that can’t make you soar, no matter how many times they flutter?

m/n: i made the mistake of rereading this when i was compiling this list and yes i am crying again. hooo booyyy.

HAVE NOT READ YET:

⊱ ┄ Below Thunder Showers by @inktae

summary: Min Yoongi leads Earth with a stern hand and a pair of cold eyes. You lead a withered space station that’s been losing hope for years, mind tired and heart torn. Jeon Jungkook is no more than a broken soldier who’s slowly losing his humanity, but his longing for the rain keeps him tied to the ground. Three paths converge again when the two worlds clash, and as precarious as they were, it does not stop you from falling in love for a second time.

⊱ ┄ Blossom by @dimpled-gukkie

summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

⊱ ┄ Contradict by @drowsymochi

summary: Jungkook is a name you hear often around the crowded city of Seoul, South Korea. Jungkook is the leader of Bangtan, a gang that has acquired a worldwide audience. The gang is stationed in Seoul, creating a feeling of uneasiness on the streets. Everyone in the city has been acquainted with one of the members at some time, being that they’re always around. For the most part, they don’t harm innocent civilians unless they commit a crime that the members find worthy of punishment. That penalty can range from bankruptcy, to torture and eventually death, which makes the city wary of their words and surroundings. If only you had been as terrified as everyone else.

⊱ ┄ Downfall by @donewithjeon

summary: Your hesitation cost you dearly, and you swore never to let it happen again.

⊱ ┄ Drown For You by @callistojjk

summary: There was something in that enormous tank, hidden in the murky water. All you knew was that you weren’t allowed inside the room and that it used to hold something dangerous.

⊱ ┄ Drag Me Down to Hell by @kimvtae

summary: There’s a darkness to your city, a murderous underbelly filled with crime and deceit that you’ve sworn to avoid at all costs. But the universe has funny ways of forcing your involvement in the form of a notorious mob boss and his young daughter.

⊱ ┄ Expensive Mistakes by @honeyedhoseok

summary: Your night spent swindling at the pool table goes left when your lackluster skills are found to be false, so it’s a good thing Jungkook has some supernatural abilities to keep D and his friends from recollecting their money–but his help comes at a price.

⊱ ┄ Fierce And Delicate by @mintseesaw

summary: Jungkook and y/n had been brought in two different worlds. Jungkook living an unfortunate life and y/n being controlled by her parents all her life. Despite the imperfect relationship, they completed each other like a puzzle there is. Jungkook has one promise he intends to keep: to always make you happy. In the process of fulfilling your wish he had once declined you of, he kept a secret from you. And unintentionally, he has done more damages than expected…Every action, and every decision… could be blamed by the flawed past.

⊱ ┄ Fallout Technical Report by @pantaemonium

summary: You knew you should not go into the darkness of night, even if your hope had run thin. The monsters were free to walk the earth, and some of them were still as human as you.

⊱ ┄ Fear in Your Eyes by @gukyi

summary: There’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy.

⊱ ┄ First Light by @inktae

summary: “Have you ever felt like the world is too loud sometimes?” “No. For me it’s always quiet.”

⊱ ┄ Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places by @jungtaeyoongles

summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there. AKA Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn’t work out according to his plan.

⊱ ┄ Gravity by @donewithjeon

summary: The universe works in mysterious ways. What you didn’t know was that the world would give you the best at such a young age.

⊱ ┄ I Got You On My Mind by @bangtanbombimagines

summary: In a world where soulmates can share thoughts, you never imagined that the sweet voice in your head would belong to a guy like Jungkook.

⊱ ┄ Lost Boy by @hoshikimatata

summary: You are the only girl Jungkook keeps coming back to, and you thought that made you the one to save him. But in the end, he’s the only one who can save himself.

⊱ ┄ Let Me Stay Close To You by @9uk

summary: You were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. The doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. That shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⊱ ┄ Left Behind by @bbfairy

summary: Every person is required to go through a series of tests to see if they’re smart enough to be a part of the upper, elite district. You and Jungkook are childhood friends. Jungkook’s dream is to live with you in the elite class, but deep down, you’ve always known that you’ll fail the exams. For ten years, you wrote letters to give him on the day of his expected departure.

⊱ ┄ Lie to Me by @hugseoks

summary: It had seemed so easy for you to move on, did you even care at all?

⊱ ┄ Pull Me Down by @starryeyedgukk

summary: “Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

⊱ ┄ Rooftop by @thelillzmonster

summary: An unrequited love burdens your fragile heart. And when an unfamiliar, isolated boy is thrown into the mix, you’re not sure whether it all turns for the better or worse.

⊱ ┄ The Burning Flame by @bangtanfanfiction

summary: You’re sent as a scout from the Academy into enemy territory, tasked with the mission to make sure their king doesn’t unleash another war on the four nations. During your quest, you get tangled up with a lone rider, as stubborn and hard as the scales of his dragon.

⊱ ┄ The Black Veil by @jungcock

summary: You never wanted to be a vampire, yet you had been 21 years old for the last 2 centuries. You never wanted a relationship either, yet you incidentally make a very human Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you, twice.

⊱ ┄ Waste It On Me by @byeoltoyuki

summary: Being a journalist, you were familiar with the concept of taking risks and pushing your limits to get the best story. But when a gangster by the name of Jungkook tries to involve himself in your quiet, safe personal life, you are forced to reconsider the limits of your comfort zone, your boundaries, your morals and even your feelings.

⊱ ┄ Why I Hate You by @floofyeol

summary: Jeon Jungkook’s only regret, is knowing her in the first place.

⊱ ┄ Watchdog by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife

summary: Being kidnapped, then ‘accidentally’ eavesdropping on a lot of Intel that was specifically not for outside ears, was definitely not your way of being ‘recruited’ into the mafia world. Much less end up with a companion who didn’t seem very fond of you, but stuck guarding and watching you. A Watchdog sort of man he was, and almost entirely too suffocating.

⊱ ┄ Written on the Sky by @inktae

summary: Time is, without a doubt, merciless.

⊱ ┄ What Happened by @bangtanfanfiction

summary: You and Jungkook’s relationship was on the tip of the edge. Is there any possibility to get it back up?

#so basically just read all of inktae's fics lol #bts fic recs #jungkook angst #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #yes i wrote 'smutties'#fite me #g recs #anon #f:jjk

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wingardium-letmefuckyou · 4 years ago

Text

Like The Stars Miss The Sun In The Morning Sky (Mitsuhide x MC)

Summary: The irony is that sometimes when you are afraid to lose someone, you lose them exactly because of that...

Words: 1498

Warnings: break up, anxiety, but there is a happy ending

Notes:

These are going to be the longest notes I've ever written at the start of a fic... I had the honour to meet a man who reminded me lot of Ikesen's Mitsuhide. He was a wonderful, intelligent man who lived by his own principles and a delightful tease who could hypnotize me with his voice alone. He was so generous with his affections. He was also someone who worked so hard, who gave everything he had to help others at the expense of himself, his mental and physical health and his freetime. Sounds a lot like Mitsuhide no? I also had the honour to date him for a while and he made my life so much more interesting, wonderful and magical. But we do not live in an otome game and real life is shit sometimes. As if starting to date during a pandemic wasn't hard enough already there is also the fact that we're both damaged humans. I'm not an MC in a game and I have my fears, insecurities and past trauma's and I make mistakes. And neither is he a perfect love interest in a game, he's just as human as I am and he makes mistakes too. So yeah, this is me writing about my own heartbreak, about dealing with the pain and guilt of losing someone you were so afraid to lose. Because it hurts like hell, waking up every morning and realizing you (both) screwed up and someone you hold so dear is no longer part of your life. So if Mitsuhide feels a bit out of character, you know why.

I did give the story a happy ending, because it's a story and while real life doesn't always have a happy ending I felt like the story still deserved one. Let's spread more happiness and love in these horrible times. I hope that one day I get to the point where MC is stronger because of what happened to her, that would be a great happy ending for me. Slowly, step by step I'm getting there. And who knows... maybe... one day...

It was in that moment, when their gazes met and the universe shifted just a little and everything felt right and good and wonderful, that she realized she needed Mitsuhide in her life. And for a while, a blissful while, he was. Until he wasn’t. Neither and both were to blame, although she would blame herself for a very long time, letting the guilt eat at her heart and soul like a slow poison. Never really sure where she stood with Mitsuhide, she had grown insecure and anxious that one day he would leave her, slipping through her fingers. How ironic really, how her fear of losing him had led to exactly that. She had never meant what she said, never meant to sound ungrateful, never meant to blame him for her own insecurities. All she wanted to hear was that they were okay, that the fox was hers just as she was his. Fear can make you a monster, clawing its way out in venomous words while all the monster wants is to be soothed with love and reassurance.

And so she found herself as she was now, sobbing into Hideyoshi’s shoulder, hot tears burning a path on her cheeks. ��I... I lost him...,” was all she managed to choke out. Hideyoshi was drawing soothing circles on her back, for once clueless about what to do to make his favourite chatelaine feel better. It was devastating to see her like that, curling up in herself in a futile attempt to keep the shards of her broken heart together.

Days went by and her heart stayed broken. She wanted to explain to Mitsuhide what had happened and make things right again. They could talk this out and continue their story, of that she was sure. If only he would let her. But Mitsuhide was in the middle of an important mission for Nobunaga, barely having hours left to spare to eat or sleep, let alone to listen to a scared and insecure girl. She would have to wait.

And wait she did. She would run into him at the castle from time to time, her eyes meeting his and longing for the familiarity of the way he had looked at her when they had been lovers. One day, she tried to stop him in the hallway, wanting nothing more than to simply ask him how he was doing. The question was well meant, she did still worry for him and his well being but for the first time in her life she saw panic in his eyes while he tried his hardest to get away from her as swiftly as possible. Needles went through her soul. The embers of hopefulness that had been smouldering brightly inside her diminished slowly as time went by and she started to realize that Mitsuhide had no intention of actually giving her a chance. The pieces of her heart that had been salvaged together with the glue of a fool's hope shattered again.

The other warlords did everything they could to distract her and make her happy. Masamune cooked all her favourites, Mitsunari was his sweetest and kindest self, Ieyasu let her pet Wasabi, Sasuke visited her more often and brought little trinkets, Nobunaga even shared his secret stash of konpeito with her. Hideyoshi, her dear best friend, was always there to listen to her and lend her his shoulder. Letting her speak out when her brain was running in circles, letting her cry when the pain was too much to keep inside. She felt like Mitsuhide had taken part of her soul, leaving her incomplete. Oh and she missed him… She longed for his teasing, for the ways he could make her shake with laughter and smile with glee. She yearned to hear him read stories to her like he used to, immersing himself in the act like a true performer. She wished she could tell him about her day and all the mundane things that happened to her and hear him do the same in return. She just wanted to hear his voice, that voice she had grown to love so much.

Time passed by, day by day and somehow she got accustomed to the feeling of constantly drowning. She was tired, so tired, but with the support of her friends she kept paddling, her head barely above the water. Until one day she found that she could swim. Not long or far but for just a moment the movements came easily and she went forward. The next day she tried again and she went forward and then the following day she did the same. Some days were easier than others, the water calm and gentle. Other days she could barely manage, feeling like she was trying to swim through a storm. But she kept trying, day after day. The mornings hurt the most, waking up when her heart and mind were at their most raw and vulnerable and realizing that Mitsuhide was no longer part of her life. But every morning she shouldered through, determined to face the day with courage and grace.

The warlords were relieved to see her ease into herself again, to see her smile and genuinely enjoy her life. Yes, she would indeed never be the same again but while she shone with a different light now, it was just as beautiful as it used to be. Like true kintsugi pottery, the gold that filled the scars in her soul made her who she was. Broken but mended and more stunning than before. She was human and perfectly imperfect.

She has stopped counting how long ago it was that she had last seen or heard Mitsuhide. While a small part of her would always long for him, he was no longer in the forefront of her mind, the pain no longer consuming her every waking moment. She cherishes the peacefulness of being able to concentrate on her hobbies and herself, to feel like she is living again. With utmost concentration she pulls needle and thread through the fabric of the kimono she’s making and almost misses the sound of the door sliding open. It is only when she looks up that she realizes who is standing in her room, her breath hitching in her throat.

“Mitsuhide…”

He kneels in front of her and while she used to pray for this moment in the past, she now feels oddly calm. No fear, no anxiety, just the certainty that whatever happens next she can handle.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… I miss you.”

Mitsuhide looks at her, his golden eyes meeting her own. She can spot no lies in them, no deceit or teasing, only honesty and an open vulnerability.

“You left me alone for a long time. No closure, no chance to work things out.”

It’s an observation she makes, not an accusation. While it had hurt and cost her a lot to get where she now was, she could never bring herself to hate him or even be angry. That was not her way.

“I know and I am sorry. I was afraid, afraid of the intensity of your love. Afraid that I could never answer it, that you would always love me more than I love you. Afraid that one day you would realize that and see that you deserved better.”

The words baffle her. How would one start to measure love anyways?

“You literally ran away from me when I tried to simply talk to you. Why?”

She needs answers, needs to ask the questions that kept her mind burning for so long even if they do no longer.

“Because it was so hard to stay away from you and if I had stopped to talk to you, if I had dared to look at you then I would not have been able to resist you.”

Mitsuhide looks at his knees, at his trembling hands resting upon his legs. Then he looks at her again and he sees her, sees her for who she truly is. A phoenix risen from the flames.

“I didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought I was too busy and that you would only give me trouble. I believed I had no time to help you or be what I thought I had to be for you. I was a fool, you never needed my help to begin with. I see now that I was wrong, I know that I wasn’t running from you, I was running from myself.”

“Oh Mitsuhide... “

Her hand reaches out tentatively to rest upon his own, the warmth of her skin seeping into his. She is no longer the same woman, no longer the frightened mouse that succumbed to anxiety. She is more, she is stronger. And she finally feels that she is capable of truly loving Mitsuhide, unconditionally and unafraid.

His eyes meet hers again and the universe shifts just a little and everything feels right and good and wonderful.

#mitsuhide x mc #mitsuhide akechi #akechi mitsuhide #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #therapeutic writing #wingardium-letmefuckyou writes

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rpd-rookie · 5 years ago

Text

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (PART 1)

Summary: Chris Redfield has always been an honourable man but the things he's seen at Spencer Mansion leave him no choice. He must infiltrate Umbrella's French laboratory, whatever it takes, even if it means manipulating you. But how far he is ready to go?

Author’s Note: This fanfic involves a Post RE1 / Pre-Code Veronica version of Chris Redfield since it focuses on his trip to Europe that is mentioned in RE2. You will probably notice that I used the letter Chris wrote to his S.T.A.R.S. friends. It is actually what inspired this fan fiction in the first place. Gotta be honest with you, this fanfic made me shed blood, sweat and tears. I guess I rewrote it twice before coming to a rather satisfying version and I must have tear my hair out quite a few times when I was struggling with grammar. (BTW, tell me if you see some terrible grammatical mistakes so that I can correct them) Anyway, as usual, I hope you will like it. Please don’t forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think of it in the comment section.

Tags: Romance, Fluff, SMUT, Explicit Language, Manipulation and Treachery. Angst is come ;-)

Also available on AO3

“Better failing with honour than winning by cheating, son”. Chris could perfectly remember his father telling him those words. It was in 1990. Chris was a seventeen years old teenager finishing his Junior year, and they were driving back home from driving school right after learning he had failed his theory test contrary to that asshole Colin Monroe who had aced it thanks to a crib cheat hidden in his sock. He could also remember that his father’s wisdom had barely consoled him on that day - despite what he had let him believe - and that it had taken him quite some time to swallow the bitter pill and even more time to admit that his father was indeed right and that he should live by this motto. Months actually. Plus a tombstone with his parents’ names on it. Chris never regretted listening to his father. He never regretted promising him that he would do his best to become the man he would have wished him to be. That promise had made him the man he was today. A man who would never stray from the right path however tempting treachery could be. Someone loyal, upright and honourable. Someone his parents would be proud of.

And yet here he was, eight years later, a twenty-five years old cop, breaking the promise he had made his father and doing something so deceitful and selfish it would certainly make him roll over in his grave or wish he were still here to give his son a earful. But today, it was not something as silly as his driving licence that was at stake. It was the justice he owned to his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members, those he had lost at Spencer Mansion and those waiting for him in Raccoon City. It was the security of god knows how many people. This time, Chris had a burden on his shoulders that was way too heavy for him to accept a possible failure. And as terrible as it sounded, he was ready to do something bad for the greater good, whatever the cost, whatever his dead father may think of him from beyond the grave.

“To my bestest S.T.A.R.S. buds,

How are you all doing in that drab, old station? Hanging in there against old Irons? Me? I just got back from a date with a hot chick. Bet you can guess what we got up to under her extra-large umbrella. Europe is amazing. One month is in no way enough to even scratch the surface. Maybe I’ll extend my vacation for another six months. Barry, don’t even think of coming join me. Wouldn’t want to make all the cute girls cry, yeah? So you just leave the babes to me. Jill, if Claire tries to contact you, please let her know I’m OK.”

Chris put down the pen on his nightstand and took a look at his letter one more time with a proud amused smile. He knew that his friends, contrary to Irons, would get the hidden message behind that lame womanizer persona that was so unlike him. And hopefully, maybe the police chief would tell his friends at Umbrella his S.T.A.R.S. poster boy was nothing to worry about and just currently cruising for pussies in Europe.

“Writing to your friends again?” Chris looked up to see you standing in the doorway to his bedroom. You looked very tired, exhausted even, judging by the dark circles under your beautiful eyes, your loosened bun and the way you were leaning against the framework. “Yeah, to give them a small update on my vacation.” Chris folded the letter and put it in the drawer of his nightstand; not very keen on letting you read it. “Tough day?” “You have no idea.” You dropped your bag at the entrance of Chris’ room and went to fall down on his bed, your head on his crossed legs. “Wanna talk about it?” Chris asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t say much. Professional confidentiality and all. ” “I didn’t know working for Umbrella was like working for the CIA.” Chris joked, trying to tone down the disgust he was feeling each time he had to pronounce the word Umbrella. You smiled, too tired to laugh and glanced at Chris who was staring at you.

God, why did you have to be so beautiful and so sweet and yet so not good for him? Why did you have to work for Umbrella? And how did he allow things to be that way between the two of you?

Chris could remember the day he had first seen you, the day he had chosen not be moral and honourable for once in his life. It was almost a month ago. He had been in Paris for a couple days, trying to find a way to infiltrate Umbrella’s French laboratory, which was even more impenetrable than Zone 51, the lab being a real fortress (with automatic secured doors, CCTVs, guards and a severe ‘no visitor allowed’ policy) only accessible if you were the lucky owner of a white and red badge. And you had happened to be one. Leaving the lab for lunch break, happy to finally feel the warm sun on your face, it hadn’t been your beautiful [h/c] hair loosely tied back in a high ponytail or your twinkly [e/c] eyes that had caught Chris’ attention (even though yeah he had noticed). No it had been that badge, that stupid badge carelessly hanging from the front pocket of your lab coat. And it had also been that badge that, unfortunately for you, had made him organise a plan to trick you and get his hands on it, that badge that had made you the victim of his very first treachery.

Your meeting was – unbeknownst to you – the most unnatural meeting ever. Chris had calculated everything. When? Lunch break. Where? The nearby boulangerie where you used to be eating. What to say? “Désolé. Bonjour. Puis-je m’assoir avec vous?” which meant “Sorry. Hi. May I sit with you?” in French of course, because Chris had figured that playing the part of the poor American tourist with a terrible French accent trying to adapt in the city of love would be much more appropriate for the situation. And it had worked. He had sit at your table, had exchanged a few words with you and had found you surprisingly friendly and adorable for an Umbrella employee. But of course, as the majority of Chris’ plans, the meeting hadn’t ended up the way he had imagined (meaning him discreetly stealing your badge) simply because of a tiny detail he hadn’t thought of; you had forgotten your badge at the lab, leaving him no choice but to improvise and organise a second meeting that he had dared called a rendez-vous.

And here he was, weeks later, sharing your apartment and occasionally your bed and definitely bogged in a way bigger deceit that the one he had originally planned, one he knew he would not be able to get out easily. And to answer the question, did Chris manage to get his hands on your badge? Well, yes and it was now safely hidden in his room to be used at the proper moment. If only he could shut his guilt away as well. Things would be much easier.

“What did you do today? Sebastien told me he barely saw you.” Sebastien was your other roommate. A nice redhead guy as well as a curious unstoppable chatterbox. “Oh, nothing interesting. I woke up early to jog at the Bois de Boulogne then I spent the rest of day wandering in the city.” That was half a lie. Yes, he had gone for a run at the Bois de Boulogne but he hadn’t spent the afternoon visiting Paris. No, he had spent his afternoon trying to reach the FBI from a phone booth in order to know if they had some news concerning Irons or the Mansion Incident. Unsuccessfully. “If you want, we can spend this Saturday together. I’m sure I can show you few places you haven’t seen yet.” “Aren’t you working this Saturday?” You were always working on Saturdays. “I need a day off to clear my mind a bit.” That didn’t sound like you. You were too much of a workaholic to prefer spending your Saturday playing guide to your American roommate. “Now, consider me worried. What’s up at work?” Chris asked, concerned not only because he knew something terrible could be happening at Umbrella but also because he couldn’t help but caring about you, Umbrella worker or not. “Those last days have been a bit tough that’s all.” You wouldn’t tell him more. You couldn’t. For so many reasons. “Well in that case, what do you think about me running you a nice hot bath?” You glanced up at Chris. He had drawn your attention in a very interesting way. “That depends. Will you be with me in that bath?” You asked cheekily. “Do you want me too?” He smirked and you put your hand on his neck to pull him closer to your face. You pressed your lips softly against his; sighing in this kiss you had been dreaming about all day, as Chris brought you against his broad chest, his strong arms now holding you tight against him. You felt so safe in his embrace and that’s what you needed right now.

Chris pecked you a couple times before laying one last kiss on your forehead with a tenderness that made you melt in his arms. “I’m gonna go run you that bath, okay?” You nodded. “Join me in ten minutes.” Needless to say that those ten minutes were the longest you had ever experienced. Probably because they gave you plenty of time to dwell on the things you had experienced today at the lab, the things you had seen, the things you wanted to forget and yet couldn’t. You got up and grabbed the bag you had left by the door to search for a small notebook that you opened with a desperate sigh. Then, you took the pen on Chris’ nightstand and started scribbling notes and drawings in it. A habit you had taken a few months ago and that somehow helped you from not cracking up.

You guessed you took more than ten minutes when you heard Chris clear his throat by the door, only wearing a small towel around his wait. Goodness, what a sight. You quickly closed the notebook as soon as you spotted him and put it back in your bag while he pretended not to notice. “Haven’t you forgotten something, mademoiselle?” He smirked and you giggled. “Have I?” “Yes. I think there is a naked man waiting for you in the bathroom.” He joked and you approached him with a amused yet cheeky smile. You put your hands on his chest, feeling his muscles against your palm, as you looked up at his face with a mischievous look. “Is he hot?” “Right now, he is very hot.” He confessed, absolutely in the mood to play with you. “Better not keep him waiting, then.” You purred and you put your hand on one of the straps of your summer dress to gently make it slide along your shoulder. That small sight of your naked skin made Chris hiss and unable to resist the urge to lay a trail of soft warm kisses from your neck down to your shoulder. You could tell the smoothness and the perfume of your skin were driving him crazy as his mouth soon started devouring you and muffled growls began vibrating in his throat. His calloused hands roamed down your back, making you instinctively move your hips closer to his crotch, and he unzipped your dress. It dropped at your feet revealing your body that Chris gazed at with his brown eyes darkened by desire. They lingered on your breasts and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to touch them. He loved them too much for that. And so, his hands cupped them and his thumbs brushed your hard nipples. “Gosh, Y/N.” He breathing in, trying to calm his heart pounding in his chest “I can’t wait any longer.” Chris suddenly grabbed you and hoisted you up with incredible ease, hands under your ass, which made you yelp. Nevertheless, you instinctively wrapped your legs around him, making his towel fall to the floor. “Oops. That was not voluntary.” You giggled. So did he. “Right.” And he rushed towards the bathroom, with you in his arms, his lips devouring yours in a hasty burning kiss on the way.

He set you up on the double washstand and quickly locked the door behind him, giving you a brief view of his divine firm behind, though you liked the front as much if not more right now. “What are you looking at like that?” He smirked. Well, his chiselled chest, his carved abs and that big hard cock. What a silly question! But you couldn’t say that and so instead you urged Chris to come closer to you, spreading your legs to welcome him between them. He obeyed but instead of giving you that lustful hug and passionate kiss you were expecting, he crouched in between your legs and remove your panties, kissing your smooth legs, from thighs to feet, as he did. You clearly knew where that would eventually lead but you moaned anyway when you felt Chris put your legs on his shoulders and burry his face in between your thighs. “I told you I’d help you relax.” “What about the hot bath?” You tilted your head towards the bubble bath he had run for you few minutes ago. “Oh don’t worry, we’re getting there. But first you know how much I like licking your pussy.” He winked and his tongue lapped your slit up to your clit without waiting another second. A loud moan escaped your mouth as Chris sucked your bud loudly, pulling it between his lips, and he looked up at you with a proud smirk before focusing his attention back on your pussy. He was good, very good even, way better than any other men you had ever been with. He knew exactly how to please you. He knew where the tip of tongue had to swirl to make you shiver, knew the right spot to suck to make you moan and when to add his fingers to make you cry out his name - which was right now by the way. “Oh my god, Chris!” You mewled loudly as you felt one of his fingers entering you, his mouth still eating your pussy up. Your legs instinctively clenched around your lover’s head while one of your hand found its way in his short hair. Then you heard Chris hum in between your thighs as he kept on licking you and fucking you with his finger, adding one more in the process. You pulled his hair back, forcing him to look at you. “Fuck me, please. Fuck me now.” Chris complied and, after his tongue slid one last time in between your lips, he stood up to catch your lips in a new passionate kiss, making you taste your juices on his expert tongue. You could feel his cock against you, hard and slightly throbbing already, showing how impatient and aroused he was. “Enter that bath, quick.” He ordered with a deep voice that made you shake against his body.

You obeyed and gladly let your burning body sink in the bubbly water, the lukewarm water cooling you off a bit (which wasn’t a bad thing). You were soon followed by Chris who entered the bath with a brutal eagerness that made the water waved a bit too much around both your bodies. “Don’t flood the apartment.” You giggled as you spread your legs to make him a place in the tub. “I can’t promise you that.” He confessed amused, as he grabbed his length in his hand to jerk it off a bit and guide it towards your begging entrance waiting for him under the water. He tickled your swollen clit with his tip before entire you almost smoothly making you draw a sharp breath. “Damn, you’re so tight.” Chris growled as he took hold of the edge of the bathtub above your head to push himself deeper inside of you, enjoying your wet walls around his cock. “You’re fucking big, you mean.” You said with a painful hiss that brutally calmed his ardour and made him consider immediately pulling out of you. “Sorry. Am I hurting you?” He worried, aware his girth needed get some getting used to and afraid that he hadn’t given you enough. “No, no. It’s okay. Just give me sec.” You cleared your throat and adjusted yourself underneath Chris, spreading your lips with your fingers to welcome him the way you both desired. Hard, big and rough. “Okay. Good now.” “You sure?” He asked, definitely not willing to hurt you. You nodded and pressed your lips against him to show him how much you wanted him right now. He got the message and started moving inside of you, slowly yet deeply for now.

You dug your nails in his biceps and started moaning; taking delight in feeling him going in and out of you. It was just the most divine sensation in the world. He filled you so perfectly. “Chris. Please. Faster.” You begged. He complied and started pounding you more quickly, hands still on the edge of the tub, towering you with his muscular body to assert his dominance over you the way you liked it. But it wasn’t enough for you and so you wrapped your legs around him forcing him to go balls deep inside of you. Chris smirked, loving your initiative. “You like it deep and rough, baby?” You cried out. “I didn’t hear you” “Yeeess.” You whimpered with small tears in your eyes. He hammered you harder, spilling water on the bathroom floor, and you clenched your walls around him. “Oh god!” You yelled, out of breath.

He was relentless, so strong, so fast, so deep you could hear his body slam against your skin and echo the splashes of the waves in the tub. “Come here.” He lay on his back and urged you to come and straddle him. And so you climbed on top of him, admiring how handsome he was underneath you. “Guide me into you.” You did as he said and directed his throbbing cock to your wanting pussy, welcoming him again inside your wetness, Hands pressed against his pectorals, you immediately started undulating on top of him, feeling the pleasure coming back in your lower stomach. “That’s it. Keep going.” He whispered, gazing at you.

Chris’ hands crawled up your body to reach your breasts and play with them a bit, delicately pinching your pointy nipples, as you kept riding him. You knew he loved groping them and you also knew how much he loved them in his mouth as well. Therefore you decided to bent over him a bit, just enough for his face to reach your chest, holding on to the wall in front of you with one hand to keep your balance. Chris smiled, understanding perfectly your little game, and pulled one of your tits to his mouth to catch one nipple between his lips and suck it greedily. It was apparently very pleasurable for him (even maybe more than it was for you, and it was a lot) since he started humming and growling loudly. You enjoyed hearing and seeing him like this very much, so much you stopped riding him to focus on this spectacle.

It didn’t last long though as you soon felt you lover’s strong hands gripping your ass to make you bounce on his cock again. “I so want to cum, baby. Please make us both cum.” His words made you shiver of excitement and you locked your lips with his as you started rolling your hips onto him again. But it was certainly not enough for Chris since after few seconds he suddenly grabbed your hips to slam deep in your pussy and relentlessly pound you from underneath. You screamed his name and hold on tight to him. He was very rough, so rough you could barely breathe, but you didn’t mind at all. Soon, you felt your face become so red and your bundle of nerves become atrociously sensitive. You knew you were ready to explode. “Chris. I’m gonna cum.” He put his hand on your clit to stimulate it and help you reach your release, his cock hammering you even harder than before. You clenched your pussy around his throbbing cock, making him groan because of how tighter you suddenly were. “Tell me I can cum in you, baby.” He asked, panting. He was very close too. “Yes, cum in me.” You didn’t need to say it twice as Chris immediately growled in your ear, slowed his pace, and spread his cum in your pussy with a last animalistic grunt as you came undone on top of him, yelling his name, your powerful orgasm almost knocking you out.

You collapsed on him, incapable of remaining straight. “Wow. That was something.” He chuckled, exhausted and out of breath, and so did you. “You’re okay?” You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows. What a ridiculous question. “No, I’m being serious, Y/N. Wasn’t I a bit too rough?” He asked. “You were perfect.” You admitted before kissing him tenderly. “AND SO FUCKING LOUD!!!” You heard shouting from behind the wall. You both looked in the direction of the noise, understanding that your roommate had probably heard everything but despite the embarrassment you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Poor Sebastien. “Why don’t we get out of that bath and cuddle a bit in bed? The water is getting cold.” Chris offered. “I’d like that very much.” You smiled and managed to leave the tub, using the little energy you had left in your sore body.

As you dried yourself, you saw Chris head towards the door with a towel draped around his waist. “Where are you going?” You asked. “Taking some briefs in my room. See you in your room in a minute?” He smiled and you nodded, impatient to spend the night in his arms. “Can you bring me back my clothes and my bag while you’re at it?” “Sure.”

Chris closed the door behind him and headed towards his room where he put on some clean underwear and picked up your stuff as you had asked. But the moment he grabbed your bag and caught a glimpse of the black notebook he had previously seen you inside, he knew he would probably not join you as soon as he had told you. He watched it first, hesitant, knowing perfectly well that what he had in mind right now was very bad. It was one thing to steal a badge, but spying on you, that was going too far. “No, Chris. No.” He whispered to himself. And yet, he grasped the notebook and opened it. It was a diary of some sort judging by the numerous dates he noticed as he quickly leafed through it. And if it was a diary then it was indeed very private, intimate even, certainly not his to read. He thought about putting it back in your bag for a second, but what if something valuable to his investigation was inside that notebook? “Argh, fuck.” He cursed as he went to the first page.

“May, 14th 1998

Today made me regret the time I was just the intern bringing Professor Rochois his morning espresso. Umbrella is asking more and more of me, and the pressure they put on us workers is driving me insane. But what’s worse is that I’ve got the impression they are not telling us everything, especially concerning the experience the seasoned scientists are conducting in the north wing. But I guess I’ll soon have answers to my questions since Professor Rochois said that he was genuinely impressed by my devotion and was thinking of promoting me.”

Chris frowned, apprehension knotting his stomach. That didn’t sound good at all. He needed to learn more about that even if the moment was far from convenient. You could show up anytime and catch him red-handed. He turned a few more pages, rapidly skimming through some notes he would definitely read another day, until he spotted a weird drawing of some octopus-like creature. What the hell was that thing?

“June, 7th 1998

The NE-a parasite. A parasitic species indented to retain intelligence. It has been developed by Umbrella Europe for years. At first I thought it was just a revolutionary way to cure brain damage. After all, that’s how it had been advertised to me. But the more I study it, the more I believe Umbrella may be up to something else other than treating brain injuries or Alzheimer. I don’t know what and I’m not even sure I want to know.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. His body was shaking and he could feel fear eating him up and he started imagining terrible things. What if you were involved in the Spencer Mansion incident? No, no. You couldn’t be. And yet, Chris decided to have a look had the entries you wrote in July. He needed to reassure himself. One immediately drew his attention.

“July, 28th 1998

My superiors have been quite on edge lately, something to do with an incident that happened with the American branch of Umbrella from what I overheard. I don’t know what it is though, but I’m sure it must be pretty big because they doubled down security in the lab. The team and I have the impression we are living in a 1984 remake. The CCTVs are always recording and I sometimes have the strange sensation I’m being permanently spied on, even in the locker room. Maybe they have doubts about me because of the many questions I often ask about Project Nemesis.”

Project Nemesis? Y/N, what the hell were you working on in that lab?

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #fanfic #under her large umbrella #re2 remake inspired fan fiction

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enragedbees · 5 years ago

Text

Thirty Million and One

Pairing: Roceit if you squint

Summary: Deceit desperately wants Thomas to pick the callback over the wedding, and it infuriates him that the others won’t listen to him.

Warnings: Deceit, the sides being mean to Deceit, referenced character death (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 1547

Song rec: Colors by Halsey

A huge thanks to the incredible @thenewlarislynn for being my beta reader!!

This is based on this post by the endlessly talented @lostonehero, thanks for the inspiration!!!

General Taglist: @xionbean @fall-sunflowers @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son

I love reading your comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

——————————————-

Deceit was so close. He could feel it.

He tried not to let himself get excited. Things could always go wrong. One slip up, one detail gone unaccounted for, and everything might collapse.

But he was so close. He had almost done it several times before but he had never gotten this far. Deceit could practically reach out and brush his fingers against victory.

Finally, everything was about to change.

Thomas sat at the witness stand in front of him, panicked and sweating. Deceit hid a smirk.

“Stop stalling, and admit it!” he snapped. “What am I doing here right now, Thomas? Am I the snake come to trick you into sinning?”

Thomas glared at Deceit, and Deceit smiled and shook his head.

“Or have you had your mind made up since the moment you received the news about the callback? You didn’t even forget about the wedding, did you?! It was all an act!”

“Fine! I want to go to the callback!”

�� Deceit’s heart pounded as the room caught its breath. He couldn’t keep the grin from blooming on his face.

That was it. Finally. I did it, he kept saying, over and over in his head, barely unable to believe it. I did it.

“I was planning on playing WordCrush on my phone during the wedding ceremony to keep my mind off the fact that I’m single,” Thomas said helplessly. “I don’t want to go! I’m…afraid…to go.”

The others all stared at Thomas in disappointment and disbelief. The pain on his face could have broken Deceit’s heart, had he not known from what he was protecting Thomas.

Thomas continued to incriminate himself, but it didn’t matter to Deceit. He got what he wanted. Everything was going to be okay.

Deceit let himself laugh as the others still sat stunned. “Yes! Prosecution rests, or whatever. Let’s just call it here and put him out of his misery.”

Roman furrowed his brow and lifted a page on his notepad. “Does the juror have his decision?”

Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He stood up and glared at Deceit. Deceit barely felt the sting.

“I hate to say it, but…the defendant is…guilty. On all charges.”

Thomas hung his head.

“Who knew convincing people to do something they really want to do could be so easy?” Deceit bragged.

“This is a downer,” Roman sighed.

Thomas bit his lip. “Well, Your Honor, what’s your sentence?”

Deceit could barely hear them talking over the pounding in his ears, the elation swelling in his chest. Their disappointment was inconsequential. It would pass, and everything would be okay. Finally. Finally.

Roman’s head shot up. He gingerly picked up his gavel. “I hereby sentence you…”

Deceit lifted a hand. “That’s not really necessary. I think now you see that all of this is – ”

“ – To one day at the St. Clifford’s Chapel on the day of Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding!”

And with the bang of Roman’s gavel, Thomas’s eyes snapped open, and Deceit’s relief crumbled.

His heart sank into his stomach. “Wait, what?!”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This had never happened before and Deceit had made sure that it wouldn’t.

Virgil, he expected. Patton had also managed to ruin it before. And there was a reason Logan was deliberately kept away almost every time.

But how could Roman do this to Deceit? How could he not understand?

Roman sighed. “It’s my sworn duty to help Thomas achieve his hopes and dreams.”

He scowled. “But Thomas wouldn’t dream of attaining his hopes through deceitful means.”

Deceit fought back the frustration ebbing in his head, the nausea in his stomach, and the burning behind his eyes. He saw Virgil smile proudly at Roman and gritted his teeth.

“But that’s not true!” Deceit cried.

Virgil scoffed. “And you’re a beacon of truth?”

“Did I say that?” Deceit snapped. “I missed the part where I said that!”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t understand. You got what you wanted.”

They would never understand. Deceit had been through this more times than he could count and it always ended the same way. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever believed that he wanted what was best for Thomas. It was foolish of him to believe this would have ended any other way.

Deceit bit his lip hard. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of them.

“But you’re still missing the point!” Deceit cried, voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t it seem kind of ridiculous taking this matter so seriously to the point of settling it in a legal setting?!”

The others just shrugged. Deceit tried not to scream.

“I am trying to teach you a lesson!” He yelled. “But it’s literally impossible!”

“Falsehood.”

Deceit just barely sidestepped before Logan rose up right next to him and folded his arms.

“Why don’t you just leave the teaching to me?” He shot Deceit a look of contempt. Deceit refused to wither under it.

“Great,” he snarled. “Well I’m sure Thomas’s friends would love to know that he’s forcing himself to attend their wedding.”

Deceit knew that he had lost. Once again, they had ignored him. He should really have been used to it already. Deceit bottled up his hurt and put on an air of nonchalance.

“It’s clear you all don’t want to listen to reason,” he sighed. Then his tone hardened. “But know this. I’ll always be a part of you. I’m not going anywhere. And there are smarter ways to get people to do what you want anyway.”

Deceit sank down, ignoring the scared and hateful faces of the people he wished he could still call friends.

He popped back up in his room, sank to the floor, and covered his face in his hands. Deceit took in a few breaths, unable to keep a few hot tears from slipping out of his eyes.

He took a moment to compose himself, then sniffed and wiped at his eyes. He stood back up and looked around his bedroom.

Journal pages, sticky notes, pushpins, and pieces of string connecting it all covered every inch of the walls and ceilings and parts of the floor. Millions of attempts, millions of outcomes, all failed.

Deceit had stopped counting how many times he had been through this scenario after about two hundred and fifty of them. For how long he had been stuck, it was probably somewhere near thirty million.

No matter what he tried, Thomas always, always, chose the wedding.

And every time Thomas went to the wedding, he never came back.

Deceit pulled some pages down off the wall. He held onto a string by his teeth while he rearranged the papers, trying to create some path he hadn’t tried already.

When Thomas died, everything reset. His life reverted to where it had been a few years prior, and Deceit was the only one who remembered what happened. He didn’t know why it kept happening, he didn’t know why he was the only one who wasn’t reset.

It was like something, or someone, expected him to save Thomas, but no matter what he attempted, he always failed. Nobody listened to him.

He tried getting close to the others, and sometimes, he succeeded. Those were the best of the attempts. Of course his priority was breaking the loop, but during those times, Deceit finally felt like he was a part of the group. He felt loved, he felt appreciated. He believed they would listen to him.

But the moment he even suggested skipping the wedding, they turned on him. Virgil and Patton accused him of only pretending to be friendly to get what he wanted. Roman believed them and never forgave Deceit. That was the worst.

He had tried explaining what he knew would happen, but they never believed him. Deceit couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t believe himself, either. They all only saw him as a liar.

Deceit pushed a couple pins into the wall. He squinted at the rough plan, trying to work out how every detail would fit with how the others might respond.

At this point, Deceit barely cared about winning, about proving himself right. He just wanted something different to happen. And it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

He had spent eons reliving the same few years. He could repeat every conversation he had with all the others, verbatim. He knew their exact reactions and responses to every word or phrase. It was what made him such a good mimic.

Deceit took a step back and folded his hands behind his head. This new plan was too similar to this attempt and not different enough from the previous attempt. He sighed and flopped back on his bed.

He draped an arm across his eyes. Deceit had until April to figure out a new plan. He didn’t have to have it all planned immediately.

Deceit stared up at the ceiling, and wondered, for the thirty billionth time, why the others wouldn’t listen.

Thomas was a good person. Didn’t that mean, to some extent, that Deceit was, too?

Deceit closed his eyes. He had gotten very close. He had never gotten this close before. Maybe it would end soon.

Maybe next time, someone would listen. Maybe attempt number thirty million and one would be the one where everything changed.

#ts #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #deceit #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #deceit fic #deceit fanfic #deceit fanfiction #roceit #roceit fic #roceit fanfic #my writing

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i-am-the-hero-alfred-jones · 5 years ago

Text

Fairy Tail’s Fairy Tale’s Chapter 7

((This is part 7 of my contribution to the fairy tail big bang by @ft-ez-bb ! I hope you enjoy! Please like/comment/reblog/ect. if you did!))

"I'm back!" Gray called, entering the guild. Juvia was hanging onto his arm, a bright smile on her face. "Did I miss anything?" he asked Wendy. "You missed Sting and Rogue." she replied. The ice mage simply blinked, "I don't wanna know." he decided. He sat by her, "Hey, I told Juvia we could do another love story together to cheer her up, you think you can come up with one?" Wendy frowned at the book, "Well. .. " she hesitated, "I have one, but it makes you look pretty bad. . ." she admitted. Gray shrugged, "I already look pretty bad." he pointed out. Wendy smiled, "Okay, then we can do Patient Griselda." Gray and Juvia quickly read over her shoulder and went backstage.

PATIENT GRISELDA

"Once upon a time, there was a prince." Wendy began, as Gray walked onstage in splendid princely attire, "He was brave and sensitive, loved the arts as well as war and victory. But above all things, he valued the small kindnesses that could be used to make someone happy. Only one thing made him sad. He could not trust any woman."

"All women are lying and deceitful." Gray declared," They're all dizzy with pride. I'll never marry. I'll spend my days hunting instead." "His subjects begged him to marry." Wendy continued, "So that his children could continue his gentle rule, but he always refused." "All women only want one thing." Gray added, "And that is to lay down the law. I'll only marry If you can find me a woman without pride or vanity, who loves me so dearly that she will obey my every whim, no matter how ridiculous the request!"

"One day while he was hunting, he got separated from the group and found the simplest and most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was spinning by a stream." Wendy continued. Juvia sat on the edge of the stage and Gray shyly approached her, "Miss? Have you seen a hunt go by here?" Juvia shook her head, "No, my Lord. But I will gladly guide you back to the path." Gray knelt by the stage. "Wait a moment, my prince." Juvia dashed off and held out a simple, clay, cup, "You deserve better than to kneel on hands and knees to drink." Gray took the cup and drank from it.

"Everyday the prince went off to see her, separating from his hunting group in order to, and soon they were married- but he made her promise to obey him in all things." Wendy continued, "Soon they had a daughter, whom they both loved deeply. But the prince's old doubts returned to him. . ." Gray sat on the stage in contemplation, "How do I know that she really is as sweet as she seems? How do I know she;s not just lying to trick me? I need to test her. I'll lock her up in a dark room and take back all the gifts I've given to her!"

"But Griselda obeyed him without complaint." Wendy continued. Juvia took off her crown and jewels and handed them to Gray obediently, "I'm sure this is all for my own good." she said, "True happiness comes from suffering." Gray was pacing across part of the stage, "It's not good enough. . . I need a better test. . ." Gray got an idea and turned to Juvia, "Your baby will be taken away from you." he commanded. Juvia looked like she might cry, but nodded and walked away.

"The prince was scared to see Griselda again. He was afraid that she would be angry- but she greeted him with the same kindness and love as always. So the prince came up with a lie." Wendy continued. Gray approached Juvia onstage, looking horrified, "Our daughter is dead. . ." Juvia gasped and watched Gray. She wrapped him in a hug. "My poor husband. . . What grief we share. . ." "The prince almost told her the truth there- but he held firm. This was a test after all." Wendy said, "The two lived together happily for 15 years, and whenever the prince grew nervous of their love, he tested Griselda again. She always passed. But soon his daughter fell in love with a young lord and he wanted to test their love as well. He declared that he would marry his daughter- as no one knew they were related."

Gray approached Juvia, "I'm going to marry nobility. You must return to your hut and live as a peasant again." Juvia bowed her head, "You are my husband, lord and master, and I will obey you. If I have hurt you in anyway, I apologize. I pray that God will grant you everything you deserve." she said, lovingly. "The prince almost abandoned his plan again- but continued on." Wendy added. Gray nodded, "You are forgiven."

"When the marriage day came, the prince had Griselda prepare his chambers, but before she left , she spoke to the prince once more." Wendy continued. "My Lord, please forgive me for saying so, but your new wife has been raised in riches and ease, she will not be able to endure the same treatment I have. I am a peasant, I am used to suffering, but this girl will die of heartbreak with the first cruel word from your lips." Juvia said, earnestly. "A peasant should not preach to a prince." Gray said coldly. Juvia turned and left without another word.

"At last the wedding day came and the prince stood before his people." Wendy said. Gray stepped forward. "You would think, " he began "That a young woman would be honored to marry a king- yet she weeps. You would think, that Griselda would be angry and sat at the treatment she's been given- yet she doesn't complain at all. You would think that I would be thrilled to marry this woman, yet nothing would make me sadder. For she is my daughter- and shall be married to the man she loves. And my patient Griselda shall return to my side at the palace-" Juvia raced up to embrace Gray, he stumbled a bit, but managed to wrap his arms around her. "And I will work even harder to make her happy, as I did to make her miserable." he vowed, brushing some hair out of her face. Gray pressed a soft kiss to Juvia's forehead and she looked like she might faint. "And so the family was reunited and everyone lived happily ever after!" Wendy declared. "The end!"

"BOOOOO!!! GET OFF THE STAGE!!!" "Shut up, Lyon!" Gray snapped. ". . . You kissed me. . ." Juvia brought a hand to her forehead, "I'll never wash this face again. . ." "Please was your face again." Gray begged. "Okay. . " Juvia sighed dreamily. Gray groaned and ran a tired hand down his face, "I already regret this. . ." "What do you think you're doing?!!" Lyon demanded, rushing the stage. "Shut up, Lyon! It wasn't even on purpose!" "It sure looked like it was on purpose!" "Perhaps this would be a good place to pause for lunch?" Carla suggested. ". . .Good idea.. ." Wendy agreed, watching the fight nervously.

---

After a quick lunch break, everyone regrouped. "What's next, Wendy?" Carla asked. The girl hummed, and looked through the book, "Another fable- The Frog and the Ox. It's about a frog who has to be better than everyone else." Laxus rolled his eyes, "Does he challenge people stronger than him like an idiot?" he asked. "Kind of. . ." Wendy confirmed. "Oh, then it's about Natsu." Laxus taunted. "Hey!" Natsu whined. "That's perfect!" Wendy grinned, "Natsu's team can be the frog family, and your team can be the Ox family!" Laxus groaned, "Not another story!" "FINALLY! I'm not someone evil!" Evergreen cheered. "My babies count as part of the team too!" Bixlow said sternly. "You'll get to make Natsu look like a fool~" Freed reminded. "That is always fun." Laxus admitted, "Alright." he stood and the two teams headed backstage.

THE FROG AND THE OX

"One day, Mister Frog decided to take his family on a walk. The same day, Mister Ox decided to take his family on a walk too." Wendy began. The two teams walked by each other onstage and stopped on opposite ends. Erza, Lucy, Gray and Happy were all staring at the Thunder Legion. "Look how strong they are." Erza noted. "I could be as strong as Laxus if I wanted to!" Natsu whined. The team glanced back at him. "No you couldn't." Gray said.

"I could to!" Natsu yelled angrily, he set a hand on fire. "There's no need to get so worked up, Natsu." Erza assured calmly, "We like you just he way you are." "I'm going to be as powerful as Laxus!!" Natsu yelled angrily, he set his other hand on fire too. "Natsu, you were fine before." Lucy said tiredly. "Natsu you're scaring me!" Happy flew into Lucy's arms in fear. Natsu set his feet on fire. "Natsu!" Gray scolded. "Stop! We love you just the way you are!" the team yelled together. Natsu gave a loud warrior scream as he set his whole body on fire. "Natsu don't-" Lucy begged. "Then Mister Frog exploded." Wendy said casually. Natsu screamed and ran offstage, his team following him. Laxus removed his headphones and glanced to his team, "Did you guys hear something?" he asked. "No." Freed shook his head. Laxus shrugged and put his headphones back on. The group left the stage.

"And the moral of the story is to be proud of who you are!" Wendy declared. "Really?" Gajeel asked, "Cuz all I got out of that is that Natsu's an idiot who needs to stop picking fights." "That too." Laxus agreed, returning to his seat. "Fight me, you bastards!" Natsu yelled angrily. "NO!" "Go to hell!" the two replied.

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my-happy-little-bean · 5 years ago

Text

Figment of My Mind

pairing: none~ warnings: mild swearing, body horror, death (though it is implied that it is imaginary), bloody imagery, mentions of poison, mentions of thunder storms, mentions of fire/allusions to burn-out, slightly unsympathetic!patton / morally grey!patton, unsympathetic!janus, remus, & virgil words: 3334

summary: Roman tries to make the right choice, but falls into something much more than just “wrong”.

Or: the one where Roman chose neither the wedding or the callback.

a/n - hello, it is i, bean; posting some rough, angsty horror at like 1 am because that’s !! just !! where we’re at right now! working on everything but the thing we’re supposed to be working on!

i was heavily inspired by the song “figment of my mind” by bruno major (someone pleeeease make an animatic with this song it’s great), so that’s what the lyrics are! it was also written to make @wisepuma23 and @thesocialbookwormishere proud lol – they’re such talented beans, and i wanted to hop on their angsty train to horror town lol.

i’m sorry if this isn’t the happiest journey, but i really enjoyed writing something! it reminds me of that angst i wrote for patton when “can lying be good” came out – ah, the good ol’ days of bean angst lol.

enjoy!

[read on ao3~]

––

“i traveled into deep space to see what i could find a purple angel led me to the universe inside.

welcome to the real world not the dream you left behind. that was all a figment of your mind.”

––

When Roman left his room, the stars in the sky were only still forming.

It was late at night. Thomas (and by extension, Patton) had already gone to bed in tears. They have been doing that all week.

Logan had confided in him a few days back, confessing that he wasn’t sure why Patton was crying. Patton had nothing to lose with the verdict Roman made. In fact, he still won in some ways. He had theorized to empty, static-filled ears that perhaps Patton’s tears were just a reflection of Thomas’ emotions; a normal reaction everyone dramaticized to illogical extents.

Then he theorized idly that maybe Patton was crying because he felt like he was wrong the whole time.

(Roman didn’t leave his room for two days straight after hearing that.)

They didn’t have much left for Roman nowadays, and neither did Thomas. The days crept closer to dreaded April 13th and no one made a sound. Nothing was being done, nothing was being made. It was as if everyone was haunted by Roman’s decision; as if the sound of the gavel was echoing everywhere he stepped.

And then, as April 12th ended– when Roman finally thought it was all over–

he realized that neutrality in a war was the enemy.

(In a moment of hypocrisy, Patton yelled at him, “Dishonourable.”)

So that was why he was here, sneaking out through the hidden door of his room and into the Imagination. He moved swiftly across the fields of nighttime fog and dew-covered grass to the giant, steel gates guarding The Dark Side.

Or, the other side.

(It hurt less to think of himself like an ‘other’ rather than...well, that.)

He stood before the towering gates. It made sense that he felt like he was crossing paths into the dark forest Disney movies warned him about. A streak of lightning cracked across the sky like splintering glass, and every three minutes, a maniacal cackle shook the ground at beneath feet.

Leave it to Remus to be so dramatic.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he thought wearily, gripping the hilt of his sword just in case. Would he even let you near him?

And then, a bitter thought: There has to be some family who will.

Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed his shoulder. Lightening screamed with him as he turned on his heel and whipped his sword tall in front of him.

“Show yourself, vil–”

Then, his vision cleared.

It was suddenly raining in the Imagination, and Virgil stood in it, drenched.

“Virgil,” he hissed, slowly lowering his sword. “I could have killed you.”

“Can’t die.” The words came out as a low rumble, one that shook the earth beneath them in a different way. “Not real, remember?”

“But you– but we’re–”

Virgil shook his head, waving a hand in front of him with a smug smile.

“Relax, Princey.” The old nickname pressed itself into Roman’s arm like a curse crawling on doomed lands. “Just some dark, 3 am humour.”

It wasn’t much reassurance, but Roman didn’t care. He was already clinging onto it tightly, never wanting to let it go.

“What are you doing here, J.D-lightful?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck you’re up to.” Virgil leaned forward, almost cockily. “What are you doing here?”

A pause. Roman forced his stare down at the rotten dirt below him.

“I’m going to fix everything,” he muttered.

Virgil skipped the first obvious question. “And you think Remus is going to help with that?”

“I think something there will.” Roman pressed his feet into the ground with a snarl. He gripped onto the hilt of his sword even tighter. “If I go now, Remus will never even need to know.”

Roman noticed how Virgil grit his teeth and clutched the sleeves of his gridded hoodie as if it’d swallow him whole and make him disappear completely.

“What do you even need in there?”

Roman turned his back on him as another crack of lightning shattered the glassy sky above them.

“Remus controls intrusive and destructive thoughts,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And what is the only destructive thought plaguing all of us right now?”

The answer hung between them, dead as the grass impaled by the ends of the metal gates.

“What if Thomas had gone?”

“So you made a decision then.” Virgil’s voice, despite its venom, held an edge of worry. “A bit too late to figure out what the right choice was, no?”

Roman huffed, standing tall despite the fact that his words made him shrivel.

“If you’re just going to stand there and be completely unhelpful,” Roman growled, walking towards the gate and grabbing the handle, “I’m just going to take my leave now–”

“Wait.”

Roman stiffened at the layered tone of Virgil’s voice. He spun around to face him against his will, being forced to look at the hooded side.

Virgil suddenly stuck his hand out, and Roman saw a glimpse of dark eyeshadow painted in thick layers over itself under his eyes.

“If you cross, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”

Roman blinked. “What?”

“You– do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Not the point of an adventure, is it, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil groaned. “I should let the damn thing eat you alive, Jesus Christ…”

“Seriously, what are you talking about?”

Virgil waved his hand, still outstretched.

“Let me take you.” Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky. Roman felt as if it was going to fall on him at any second. “If you can survive with me, you’ll probably leave with what you really wanted.”

Roman stared at his hand, as if the offer in it grew legs and was crawling up that inky checkered sleeve. Virgil’s words seemed to swarm in his head, and he didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but something told him that he needed to listen.

Virgil’s hand floated between them like a paranoid ghost.

And so, with a deep breath, Roman took it.

––

“we flew amongst the patterns, impossible designs they’d been there the whole time hidden by my eyes

if i’d had a body it surely would've cried but tears were a figment of my mind”

––

Roman felt himself fall apart when he touched Virgil; as if Virgil was passing sharp sparks between their palms, and those sparks were finding cracks in skin Roman didn’t even know existed.

It felt as if his entire world flipped vertically, the ground defying the laws of reality and throwing him, somehow, onto the floor at the other side of the gate.

Roman couldn’t even feel Virgil’s hand anymore. Instead, he just felt lightning stab his chest and blur his vision, a swirl of purple, yellow, and green swimming in front of him.

Then, it all stopped in an audition room.

Virgil was nowhere to be seen, but Roman could feel him everywhere. He made himself believe that it was just because Thomas always felt this way before an audition.

Maybe it was the monotone filter of it all. Everything in the room—the camera, the table, two chairs, the walls—were various shades of black and white.

And he was standing, stuck, in front of the empty chair. He still felt dizzy from whatever hellish trip Virgil had sent him on. He wanted to stumble on his feet just to make it feel more real, but he was rooted on the ground, completely still.

Then, lightning struck the two chairs and when the smoke cleared, Deceit and Patton were staring at him,

their eyes crossed out in yellow, drawn-on dashes.

“SING.”

Roman felt himself reel back at Patton’s voice, and a piano– out of sight, out of mind– began to play. The moral side had leaned over the table and slammed his fists into its surface, dark cracks in the wood blossoming from the contact. The noise was so loud, yet useless in muffling the haunted ivory keys, which played a hollow echo of Roman’s favourite audition song.

Fuck.

Deceit said nothing, but he did smile at Roman in that kind– no, deceitful way he always did.

Did Deceit always have that line near his lip?

Roman shook his head. Forget Deceit. This audition wasn’t what he wanted. This was Thomas’ dream. This is what they had to choose. Mary Lee and Lee would surely understand, and so would Patton. He was selfless all the time, he deserved this. Deceit was right.

In fact, Patton, in a fabricated moment of clarity, could possibly understand that now. Perhaps his command was actually encouragement; encouragement Roman missed oh-so much.

Roman cleared his throat, straightening himself up. He could suddenly feel the ghost of Thomas mirror his movement in a lag.

The role didn’t even need Thomas to sing, but Roman did as he was told anyway. Maybe he had to play along to hold this decision in his hands and save everyone.

He smiled bravely.

“When you come home to me, I’ll wear a sweeter smile, and hope that for a while you’ll–”

“FAIL.”

Roman blinked. But he was perfectly in tune with–

“FAIL!” Patton screamed at him again, lunging forward over the table, which split in two. The sound of the piano above them began to eerily croak.

“Patton, I–”

“YOU FAILED!” Patton pointed at him as the accusation slipped his lips. Yellow poison leaked from the corners of his snarl and the piano went out of tune into a mess of sharps and flats.

Deceit sat still.

“DISHONOURABLE.” “WRONG.”

The words suddenly began to layer over each other in what felt like an infinite descending tone.

“YOU SIDED WITH THE VILLAIN AND–”

“HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GET AWAY WITH–” “WHAT KIND OF HERO–”

Roman finally tore his feet from the ground in shock. When he looked down at what initially bounded him, he saw yellow snapdragons coated with blood from his ankles, which was now pierced with thorns. The red and the yellow was so sharp– too sharp– in the midst of the black and white of the audition room.

On the broken piles of flowers he stepped away from laid the ghost of Thomas; on his knees and shaking.

“–FAILS?”

He felt tears slip down his cheeks and freeze into sharp crystals digging into his skin. In front of him was a broken dream, a broken man, the wrong choice–

And in the corner of his eye, Roman watched as Deceit grinned; the line extending his smile cracking.

Out through the cracks leaked blood.

––

“i was shown a few things I'd been getting wrong she told me i’m a good man and have been all along

by the way I heard her say, ‘there’s no such thing as time it’s all a figment of your mind’."

––

Roman’s scream ended when he was flipped upside down, now standing at an altar with a bouquet of yellow carnations.

The tears from the audition room were no longer piercing his skin, but they lingered as static in the form of a sticky residue. He was very certain that he was going to kill Virgil once he got home. This black and white world was somehow too bright, too daunting.

And he left him alone in it.

Roman focused his vision on the new sight in front of him, holding his bouquet tightly like some kind of chilling reminder.

A bride and a groom were walking away from the altar, their backs facing him. People were in the crowd, throwing the same yellow carnations into the air. It was a happy sight, despite the monochrome tinge. Violins sang brightly in what felt like the perfect photograph.

Perhaps this was the choice Virgil was talking about; the one he’d leave with; the one he really wanted. Yes, he could want this. Maybe he even needed this.

Because at the end of the aisle was Patton, black and white with a sharp grin.

Another layer of violins was placed on top of the pre-existing ones.

“kiddo, i’m so proud of you!”

Roman’s breath hitched, holding the bouquet tighter. Mary Lee and Lee were already gone, yet everyone kept throwing their flowers.

“you’re so good. so good.”

“my hero.”

Roman broke into a wide grin. This decision felt so close. Patton’s voice felt like a rush of summer air in the midst of a cold, winter night. The words felt like they were close– so close– to carrying Roman on his back closer towards this decision; like they were already spinning the hands of the clock back and–

Patton suddenly became blurry in his vision, and a green figure appeared beside him,

holding a dead Thomas by the neck.

Shit.

A familiar cackle cut through the illusionary Shepard tone created by the violins, which once played a sickly sweet melody in his ears. Roman looked at Remus, horrified, and then at Thomas.

Thomas was wearing his wedding outfit — Roman recognized it because he helped choose it, of course. And it was beautiful.

But at its seams were falling ashes; crispy burnt ends to such a beautiful suit.

And Thomas was white as a sheet, slowly crackling away in embers where he hung.

Remus’ grin was made of bloodied pearls, his white streak cracking and spreading in patches to other parts of his hair. He threw the Thomas corpse– was he really dead?– onto the ground and pulled back his morning star by both hands, ready to strike–

Then Patton stepped between Remus and Thomas, holding his hands over his face to catch the spikes of the morning star before it could finish its swing down. The violins shrieked with Patton and Roman watched as his hands began to bleed upon contact. The flowers were still being thrown, as if to celebrate this horrible victory.

Patton, struggling against Remus' persistent force, let out a heartbreaking sob.

“...how are we still being hurt?”

“why is he getting worse?”

“he shouldn’t be here, thomas is good–”

“–because you chose this –”

Roman’s heart broke when Patton stiffly met his eyes.

“what more are you going to do to stop this?”

Roman started to run towards the horrid sight, almost against his will. The violins hung above him, the chords pulling him back by his wrists, still attached to the bouquet of yellow carnations.

And he was screaming; screaming Patton’s name and crying as the petals of all the flying flowers slashed sharply at his face. The aisle seemed to make itself infinite, as of stringing Roman along on a treadmill moving too fast.

He could see the outline of Remus amidst the slowly-paling flower flurry; bright green with a thick red puddle pooling around his feet. He saw the outline of his grin, blood dripping from each tooth.

Patton’s voice was barely a whisper, yet was loud enough for it to echo all around Roman’s head.

“you’re not doing enough.”

“he has to be stopped.”

“stop this, hero, stop–”

And when Roman finally reached the end of the aisle, Thomas was nothing but ashes on the floor.

Patton stepped towards Roman, who slowly backed away. No no no no no–

Then, Patton grabbed the bouquet he was holding.

Roman gasped and looked down. Patton was bleeding red, palms cracked with scars and holes from Remus’ weapon.

He at least tried to save Thomas, Roman suddenly realized. What did I do?

Patton’s hand pierced the thorny stems of the carnations and his blood mixed with dripping green venom.

His tearful eyes met Roman’s.

“...what did you do?”

The air around Roman thinned. He looked over Patton’s shoulders and saw Remus, grinning and holding up his bloodied morning star.

It was on fire, and it caught onto the white cracks in his hair.

––

“waking with eyes closed from technicolor dreams crystal kaleidoscopes were singing blue and green

realer than real in front of me if only you could see what i could see”

––

Roman was fa(i/l)ling.

He was stuck in a spinning kaleidoscope; and circling him were shattered fragments of the horrible decision he made– the decisions he could make.

The memory of Deceit’s blood-soaked smile in the audition room.

The sight of Remus grinning with fire crackling embers in his hair.

The thought of Patton, glitching into two with his hands holding his head, being torn apart.

The view from below the towering gate (the lightning shattering the glassy sky)

and Virgil, standing in front of him with white cracks in his eyeshadow, pulling his hand back from Roman

to wrap himself in his old hoodie.

The violins had stopped and the piano had paused. What did this mean? Roman tried to hold himself around his feeble body — if he even had one right now.

No. He shuddered if he even could– no he was real. He was here, he was real, and he was failing.

Anxiety crawled through the cracks in his vision. He was straining his eyes trying to look at each fragment of his mistake. What did he need to do, what did he want to do, what was right, what was–

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

NO! Anything but this, he wanted to plead. This wasn’t it, he was supposed to be good– he couldn’t fail– what has he done?!

Suddenly, each fragment snapped and cracked in front of him, the kaleidoscope shattering piece by piece.

And reflected in each broken shard was Roman.

Paranoia’s voice echoed in his ears:

“Then why did you leave with this?”

––

“i slowly found my body, color began to fade i heard a piano playing a knowing serenade

this world feels backwards to my open eyes ‘cause it's all a figment of my mind.”

––

“–atton, if you touch him, you run the risk of–”

“–ET ME GO! ROMAN! ROMAN, WAKE UP, PLE–”

“–fucking stupid, how could he be so–”

Roman gasped, feeling himself seize up and face darkness. His head suddenly ached and he rubbed the spot he hit as he heard a low grumble from his left.

“Roman!” Patton. Roman shuddered. Patton’s sobs made him want to keep his eyes closed even more. “Roman, open your eyes, you’re home.”

“Patton, you mustn’t alarm him.” That was Logan. “And Virgil, are you okay? See, this is why I told you not to stand so close...”

A part of him was reassured to hear logic return to him. The nightmare must be over then, right?

He blindly grabbed to his left, as if to apologize to the side he hit, and felt stitches crossing in small x’s on fabric. A sigh of relief; there was Virgil.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Virgil’s voice sounded so distant, yet so clear. “You could’ve gotten hurt, going there alone–”

“Now what did we say about alarming him.”

“Roman.” Patton’s voice stung the most, an echo of the hell he just fell through. “Roman, open your eyes. It’s me– it’s us.”

And so Roman obliged, like he always did with Patton.

…

When Roman opened his eyes, he saw that he was back in his room, lying on his bed, staring at a blurry, white ceiling. As he sat up, Patton’s sobs grew louder and Logan’s breath hitched.

Virgil stayed quiet.

“What is it?” he asked groggily. Patton dissolved into more tears. Roman watched as Logan, sliced in half by navy blue and grey shards, held Patton close.

“Guys?” he asked again. He looked at Virgil and frowned. Some patches were grey, why were they–

Roman gasped, pushing past his family and turning his back on their grief. He made his way to the mirror in the corner of his room, tearing the hair in front of his eyes aside.

And staring back at him in his cracked mirror were irises split in half.

Black and amber.

click here for a new and improved masterlist of all my writing if you’re interested ^v^

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circe-poetica · 5 years ago

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“Card 40 — Honesty: Honesty. Compassion. Tact. Self-deceit

Just look at him! Could you doubt for a moment that he sees you just as you are? And loves you anyway?

In plant form, which is how we may see him most often, Honest makes lovely purple flowers in the spring and later on produces those silvery-white circular seed pods, like small images of the full moon. These little earth-moon seed pods remind us to reflect upon our reactions and feelings, to throw light into our darknesses, and to deal honestly with ourselves and others.

Honesty’s other botanical names are Moonwort, Satin Flower, Silver Dollar, Moneywort, Dollar Plant, Penny Flower, Bolbonac, and, on Monday, the moon’s day, he is Lunaria annua. Honesty is said to repel monsters. I don’t have any monsters handy to check this out on, but I can certainly see the metaphorical truth in it. He is also known as Unshoe-the-Horse because of his habit of the Earl of Essex on the White Downs in Devonshire, near Tiverton. Let that be a lesson to you not to tread Honesty underfoot.

Starter Reading — Honesty in a reading speaks, unsurprisingly, of the need for straight dealing and truth in representation. We need to be scrupulously honest here, making certain there is no room for confusion or misunderstanding, no fuzzy edges. Both written and verbal agreements need to be completely clear. Assumptions may not be as well understood by all parties as we are assuming and they need to be tested for comprehension.

On a personal level, Honesty reminds us not only to be clear in what we say and do, but also to act and speak with compassion and tact. Brutal honesty is not usually true honesty at all but somehow slanted toward the worst. Dishonesty, even in the name of tact, is not helpful either. Balancing on that fine line of loving honesty may take some effort, but will provide rich rewards. Honest humility, idealism, and clarity of mind are some of the advantages of honesty.”

My interpretation of Honesty, is maybe a more subtle, openly defeated, but proud perspective of the concept of Honesty, truth. How honest can one be? I can be honest with myself and still hurt another. Is that wrong? No. What if a person hurt me while being honest are they in the wrong because I’m hurting? Absolutely not. Its how a person reacts to Honesty that determines whether or not its a good source of information for them to believe or not. If its “true” to that person that doesn’t necessarily mean its true to you; its how you use the “truth” to alter your reality. Is it your’s or that person’s fault? No, otherwise we would be engulfed by what makes other’s happy instead of ourselves. That doesn’t mean that you treat others like the bottom of your shoe, just means you have to be more aware of the choices you make that manifest the paths you walk on. Every choice you make not only affects yourself, but also those around you. How do you think we’ve created the world we live in today? We each take an equal part in manifesting what it is we see. It’s all a Balance.

Honesty, to me, seems like he’s vulnerable. He’s exposed and is somewhat defeated. He doesn’t feel like the loser though, he’s relieved. He has a sort of sadness in his eyes, but I don’t think its due to his own sadness. It’s the sadness people project from the consequences and events of honesty. There’s some light illuminating certain parts of his body. It starts from his Heart, leads past his throat, all the way to the crown of his head. He has this aura around him that gives off a “I told you the truth, so what are you going to say? How are you going to react?” It gives off the feeling of anxiousness, tension building up and the uneasy feeling you get every time you tell the truth because you never know how a person will react. Being honest is a powerful thing. So tread carefully. Whether its being completely honest with yourself or with others, even if you like that person or not. The light from his heart, throat and crown symbolizes that you must find it in your heart to find the love to manifest what you feel into words to flow through your throat to speak the truth. You use your mind (crown) to embrace the action of love to light the darkness in your mind that blocks you from creating your honesty. You always have to take in consideration how much energy you put into the universe when your being honest. It’s a lot! Reason why people aren’t honest quite that often. May seem easy but it is not!! Not a lot of people see this side of Honesty.

So this evening ladies and gentlemen, try to think of honesty as a powerful, fragile force. It can make or break someone. Be very appreciative and grateful when you do experience honesty because it’s a beautiful freedom. Clarity and Love can only grow from honesty. Sometimes its the toughest thing to act on though, but its rewarding. Just be mindful of the other face of Honesty, he has feelings too, ya know? He hates seeing people cry and upset, he hates to hear people yell and get angry. He wants balance. Be wary but be honest.

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#29 march 20 #honesty #the faerie's oracle #brian froud

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latestageyouth · 5 years ago

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When you walk away (Nothing more to say)

chapter 10 - just,,,,all the fucking angst

trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, self-degrading talk, thoughts of suicide, crying, glass stuck in hand (Remus breaks a beer bottle in his hand), blood, toxic father, lots of swearing, lots of angst, allusions to biting nails into blood, rain, talk of hypothermia, some mentions of a dog barking, allusions to self harm and suicide (no actual suicide or intended self-harm), cognitive distortions, underage drinking, drinking spoiled beer let me know if i missed something

summary: All the fucking angst poured into one chapter intended to emotionally destroy you.

author’s note: it's 2,500 plus words, buckle up, buttercups. I am writings this at near-midnight and if ya'll see some typos, don't blame it on me blame it on the red bull. Also wooo!!! this is the 10th chapter!!! can't believe I made it that far and that ya'll are still reading my elaborate daydreams that I vomited onto a screen!! yaay!!!

He was cold. No, not cold, numb. Both, actually. The rain trickled along his soaked denim jacket. Not that Damon cared, he deserved it anyway. The jacket did nothing to keep him warm, after all, it's main purpose was to look cool. A shiver shot through him as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. His shaking hand slowly took it out, "Avery...?"

Remus.

Damon put the phone back and let it ring until the only sound he could hear was the rain falling, the occasional car driving by. He didn't want to talk to Remus right now.

...Huh. Didn't want to talk to Remus, that would be a first. A bittersweet feeling flooded Damon's chest. He couldn't tell if he was still crying or not, if yes, the rain mixed with the tears too perfectly to tell. He could still see the sidewalk before him, but not for long. It was dark, it was getting darker. Damon sighed, just a few streets more. Just a-

He sneezed. Great, so now he has a cold, this day couldn't end any better. He flinched as a loud barking began, probably a dog. It's not like Damon paid any attention to it. He didn't know if Avery would be home, he prayed that they were not. The barking stopped, that or Damon was far enough for the sound of rain to block it out. He should check if Avery was home.

He pulled the phone out again, scrolling through the phone screen with some difficulty due to the rain. He finally reached their phone number, typing a simple message: 'u home yet??'

He waited for a response, still walking towards their house. He tried to shield the screen with his arm but eventually gave up when his arm started cramping. After a few minutes, after he finally accepted he would get so response, his phone buzzed. Damon looked at the screen again.

'U MEAN U ARENT HOME YET!?!!'

Oh, shit, that's right. God, Damon was so stupid sometimes. It wasn't long before the phone buzzed again.

'DAMON HORACE BARNES ANSWER ME DAMN IT!!!'

Well, there goes his freedom for the next six years and a half. He sped up his tempo and began writing back: 'i was at-' he hesitated, finger hovering before the screen for a while, then they got back to work 'i was at virgil's'

'...at least u were inside, wouldnt want u hanging out under a bride in this bad weather or something'

'lmao y would i be under a bridge im not THAT stupid'

'just get home already -_-'

And with that, Damon shut off his phone and looked up at where he was, hopefully his muscle memory didn't betray him. It didn't seem to, as his house was finally in view. He sighed and walked directly towards it, picking up the spare key from beneath the welcome mat on the rocky path. He opened the door and was immediately hit with a wave of warmth. He took off the soaking jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen table. He shivered at the feeling of bare arms, the wet t-shirt doing nothing to preserve his body heat. Not that he cared anyway, it was just another thing to add to his list of problems.

He went straight to his room, not bothering to turn on the light, plopping onto his bed in the still wet clothes. Now that he was alone, still cold, and at home, he could think about what will be the consequences of his actions. He tangled his hands into his hair. Stupid. Remus probably hates him now, great, he made everything between them awkward because he was selfish and wanted Remus for himself. He curled up into himself. Stupid. Of course the one time he doesn't think, the only time he acts on impulse, is the time that he ruins everything and more. He tugs on his hair harshly, taking his attention away from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He's so stupid.

"Okay, you guys ready?" Jenna glanced between the two, "Or is our widdle newd here afraid of freezing to death?" she baby-talked at Logan.

Logan rolled his eyes in retaliation, not saying anything and instead walking up the steep hill to Jenna's brother's car. He...wasn't entirely sure what he was called. Kind of a bad thing considering he was getting a ride from him. It wasn't long before the other two joined, Jenna sitting in the front seat while Logan and Virgil were in the back seat. Logan didn't care for nor listened to the bickering of the twin. He turned his head to the other side at the heavy feeling on his shoulder. Virgil was resting against it, of course, Virgil always preferred to initiate physical contact, it was obvious why. The ride was not at all silent, not that it bothered either of them. It wasn't long before they were at Virgil's house, with the mix of Virgil signing and Logan interpreting to...Tyler, was it? for directions. He didn't thank the twins, even when exiting the old car. It was a bummer leaving Logan, but he'll live, right?

Virgil pulled out his keys to the house and let himself in, recoiling in panic when someone threw himself at him, "There you are! I was worried sick! I thought someone had kidnapped you or you froze to death!" Emile pulled back, still clutching at his shoulders, to look at him, "Do you even know how late it is?! I thought you…" Emile trailed off. The scars on Virgil's legs hurt faintly as he did. Emile soon shook his head, "Well, I am really glad you didn't. Y-you must be cold. Wait on the sofa, I'll make you some hot cocoa and reheat yesterday's dinner, yeah?"

Virgil couldn't help but nod, his chest heaving with guilt of what he did. Not the same guilt mom made him feel, no, definitely not. This was a new kind, he didn't like that one either. The sofa was soft, softer than he remembered, maybe he was just tired…Was Logan tired? Why was Virgil asking that? Of course he was, who wouldn't be?

To say Logan was tired would be an underestimation. He was exhausted, in more than one way, "Answer me, for fuck's sake!" The hands banged on the table. Logan didn't relent answering this time, "I, uh, I was heading home and...got caught up with some friends…" he fiddled with the loose of his flannel.

His dad scoffed, "Some friends you have, you smell like cigarettes and paint."

Logan needed to think of a good lie, just until momma comes down. Just a few minutes, she always worries for Logan, she would check if he came home. His dad inched closer, "It's a second-hand smell, I had to take a shortcut through a poorer part of the city."

Soft steps could be heard up the stairs, growing closer and closer. It wasn't soon after that momma revealed herself on top of them, tired as always. She froze for a second when she saw Logan, then stomped down, all while dad tried to reason with her, "Honey, Melissa, you surely know what a slacker he is, I mean, look at him."

Melissa turned her head so she couldn't see Gerald sign or move his lips. She looked at Logan taking his face in her hands. Logan looked away, sighing after an intense staring contest that Melissa won, "I am sorry, it won't happen again, I promise," Melissa was still frowning, but her face softened, she always had a soft spot for Logan.

Gerald scoffed, knowing his wife won't hear him anyway, "I can't believe she's that gullible..." he grumbled something under his breath, most probably about Logan being spoiled, and went upstairs to his office, where else would he go? His mother removed her hands from his cheeks and began signing, a thing Logan was glad he didn't have to interpret to someone anymore, like, do you even know how tiring that is?

'Where on earth have you been? Do you know how worried I was?!'

Logan sighed, signing back, 'I was out with some of my friends, I apologize for making you worry,' he watched as surprise glazed over her face for a second.

'Boys like Roman and Patton would never stay out so late.'

Logan hesitated, looking away.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, eventually waving it off and sending Logan to bed. The poor boy must be tired, she was too. She can interrogate him about his whereabouts some other time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The droplets of rain fell to the ground endlessly. Clank. Remus kicked the trash can over, garbage spilling over the sidewalk. Tap. Tap. Tap. His shoes tapped against the concrete. His uneven breaths echoed the streets in white clouds of breaths. The place where his fingernails should be is stinging with the cold and pain, fingers digging into the outer side of his arms, dried blood on where the fingers were placed. It wasn't from the arms, his nails weren't sharp enough to do that. Remus could still feel the metallic taste in his mouth, the familiar taste, it didn't mean he liked it though. He hit his foot on something hard, his eyebrows furrowed. Remus looked down at it, slowly picking the beer bottle up. Did it have something left? Remus shook it. Hah, at least something in his life didn't go wrong for once. It tasted bitter, flat, Remus might say. Not that it mattered, as long as it got him drunk. He took another swig, face scrunching up at the taste, but hey, he'll get used to it. Just like he gets used to everything. Like living with momma. Like being a disappointment of the family. Like being alone. Yeah, he can get used to being alone again, no biggie. He'll get over it. He gets over everything.

He heard a car passing, god, he hopes it'll run him over. It gets closer, Remus can hear it. He considers running in front of it...no, he...he couldn't do that to Virgil. A freezing shock runs through the left side of his body, he shrikes and jumps away from the road.

...God, simply fucking amazing. Now he's soaked completely. Well, too late to jump in front of that car now. Remus blinked and looked up...Where was he again? How...How long did he walk for?

"Remus?"

He already knew who that was, how couldn't he? He didn't need to be babied. Remus kept walking. He couldn't even bare looking at Damon's family.

The car still rode beside him slowly, "Remus, kid, you're gonna freeze out here, c'mon."

Remus kept walking.

Avery sighed, "I'll drive you home, okay?"

"Why?" Remus barked back. His step quickened.

Avery stuttered, "Why?!" Remus flinched at the sudden rise of tone. Avery tensed, "Look, sport, by this rate you're gonna get hypothermia, and I already have one teenager to worry about. Get in the car."

Remus didn't relent. He didn't wanna deal with anyone right now. Knowing Avery, they wouldn't...interrogate him, per se, but they will try to, ugh, talk to him. He didn't need that. He didn't hear them say anything. Did they drive off already? He didn't hear them.

Avery sighed, "I'll call your mom."

Remus' eyes widened, "Wait, no, don't!"

Too late. Too late again. Fucking god, Remus just couldn't do anything right, could he? He just...always messed up no matter what. Remus' grip on the bottle tightened. He could just hear ma and Roman, 'God, Remus, you're such a burden!' his hand started shaking. Why should he even bother them with his presence? Maybe if he hurts everyone he comes to contact with he shouldn't exi-

The bottle shattered. Remus hissed in pain. Fuck. He dropped the remains of the beer bottle onto the ground, beer mixing with his blood. His hand twitched, he trembled with pain, and the rain isn't fucking helping. Great, just...fucking magnificent. This shit is just asking to get infected. Whatever. Whatever. What the fuck ever.

Avery opened the door to their house, putting the keys back in their purse. It was dark, don't tell them..."Damon? Honey, are you here?" they called out, listening carefully for any sound. Soft sobbing came from his room. Avery slowly walked to Damon's room, not bothering to knock and opening the door right away, "Sport? You okay?"

The light from the kitchen illuminated a part of his room, mainly the bed where a bundle of sheets shifted more into themselves, "Get out," came from beneath them, voice hoarse and raspy, almost like...

"Oh, honey," Avery walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I am assuming it has something to do with Remus?"

The muffled breathing stopped, they could almost feel Damon tense.

"I...saw him on the way here," they explained.

Like on command, Damon rose from the bed, "You what?! What did- did he say something? Wh- why is he still out, it's late!" his bloodshot eyes were wide and searching all over Avery's face for answers. All he was getting were dark circles and even darker eyes.

Avery sighed and slowly moved their hand to Damon's. This time, they could actually feel him tense up, "Damon, sweetheart, what happened? Did Remus hurt you?"

Damon looked at Avery like they had just slapped him, Wh-what?! Of course not! He would, he would never do that!" his hand clenched into a fist. Damon looked away from his parent, "I just...messed up like I always do."

Something in Avery broke, "Dee, dee, sugar, look at me."

Although unwillingly, Damon looked at them. They took Damon's face into their hands.

"You could never mess up something as big as you and Remus, okay? One mistake won't erase years of friendship."

"B-but-"

"There are no buts in this household, Dee," they slowly stroked the other's cheek, "I am sure you two will make up in no time."

Eventually, Damon gave up on trying to convince Avery otherwise. He nodded, "Yeah, okay. You're right," just get over with it, he wanted to be alone right now. Or forever.

Avery sighed, "Of course I am, just wait," they got up from the bed and walked over to the door before turning back to Damon, "I'll order some pizza and we can watch Law & Order on my laptop, yeah?"

Damon nodded. As soon as Avery walked out he buried himself back in his bed. Huh, he didn't notice but he was starving. Whatever, he deserved it anyway. He could hear Avery talking on the phone, though he tuned them out. He wanted to be left alone, how could he trust himself around other people now? He couldn't. He shouldn't. He should just...pretend tonight didn't happen and avoid Remus as much as possible. Yes. The best-case scenario, Remus was too drunk to remember it, though, he probably wasn't. Eh, give Damon a rest, let a man dream. Though...Damon wasn't sure he would dream tonight...or anywhen in the future, really. Now that he thinks about it, Damon wasn't sure about a lot of things. Hah, how pathetic of him.

#long post #when you walk away (nothing more to say)#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #me??? coping with my daddy issues??? in this fanfic??? it's more likely than you think.#angst #it's dark side angst o'clock and the clock is stuck

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imnotcameraready · 6 years ago

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If Villains Baked Cookies — Chapter 3

A/N: it’s been a Fuckin While, welcome back to this!!!

Word Count: 3295

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit y’all, curses, cursing, minor character death (not anyone significant to the storyline), suggested abuse, suggested trauma, swords, knives, panic and panic attack — if i forgot any pls let me know!!!

Pairings: im realizing that this is platonic Moceit and then platonic Analogince, with like. light versions of platonic DLAMP given that they’re a famILY

Characters: Deceit, Patton, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Thomas, AND EMILE PICANI :^) and Percy the Printer™

read on AO3!

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2

@rebelrewriter

enjoy!

Sir Virgil Malory wasn’t exactly a knight, per se. He never liked the shining armor and giant swords, both of which would clang together in an incredibly distracting way. No, Virgil prefered the shadows, the quiet, soft leather shoes and a few small daggers hidden in his coat.

He was forced to undergo the knight training, though, as the youngest of four brothers who had all grown to be high ranking knights. His father, before he died, expected all of them to carry on his own legacy of being one of the King’s war advisors.

When he was sixteen, just before the last year of his knightly training, he was pulled aside by one of the King’s aides. Of course, his heart was beating in his neck, he was sweating buckets, what had he done to make the King mad? Why did he need an audience with the King? And the aide didn’t tell him anything until they got to the small war-planning room.

With JUST the King in it.

“Sounds terrible, being locked in a room with a royal,” Roman interrupted, feet kicked up onto the table.

Virgil shot him a glare. “It is pretty terrible when I’m locked in a room with you,” he stuck his tongue out at Roman, who made a sound crossed between a squeak and a gasp in indignation.

“Virgil? Keep going?” Thomas asked, wrapping his own cape around himself as well.

“Fuck, uh, yeah.”

“No more interruptions, Roman,” Logan raised an eyebrow and cast a side glance at him, “And get your feet off of the table. Patton would be furious.”

Deceit rolled his eyes while Roman grumbled quietly, sitting up proper. “Like Patton’s capable of being furious,” he joked, voice soft.

Thomas still didn’t like how his tongue flicked when he spoke.

Virgil cleared his throat, and Roman’s grumbling quieted.

The King had called Virgil into the room not to reprimand him, but to extend an offer. His army had enough knights who fought with swords. He needed more who could fight in the shadows. Who could sneak into an enemy’s tent and slit their throats quietly.

Yeah, it was a weird gig. Seemed to go against all of the knights’ mantra of honor and dealing with things in battle, but the King was serious. He talked a lot about how not everything could be settled out in the open and how not everything could be known to the public. I didn’t like it at all but….I wasn’t really cut out to be a knight, anyway. I said yes.

Training was, well….similar? I don’t know how much y’all wanna hear.

“Just, like….I dunno. Whatever you see fit?” Thomas asked.

He had started slowly slipping off his armor, but kept his dagger and sword strapped to his person. His choice to keep his weapons didn’t escape Deceit’s gaze, he kept noticing the god’s eyes following him. Thomas really, really didn’t like him.

Virgil just watched Thomas a little harder. He seemed to want to retaliate, but a nudge from Roman distracted him. “No more third person?” he cocked an eyebrow, leaning across both of his arms and the table, grinning cheekily up at him.

“Eh, that wasn’t gonna last anyway,” Virgil rolled his eyes with a huff, “I’m not a storyteller.”

I’m gonna skip training. But basically, uh, I learned how to throw knives, make poisons, climb walls, you name it.

My brothers knew I had a special job, but they didn’t know what it was. We lived in the same house, nearby the castle, which was technically my eldest brother’s house since his family lived there. They always asked what I was doing and what the King wanted from me but I never told. The King’d said that….anyone I told would be killed.

My brothers sucked, but I didn’t want them dead.

I was knighted when I was seventeen, and then I started getting sent out on jobs. Never with anyone, never during the day. The royal family always claimed I was a war messenger. That appeased my brothers for the most part, but the oldest one….Percival. Percy. Percy never really trusted that description. He never went after me, though, but I could always see that he just didn’t accept that.

When Patton was first being challenged by the King, I was almost sent, actually. There were only a few of us war messengers, all assassins, and I’d just returned from another job. Because I was fresh home, the King sent someone else. I didn’t know his name or anything but I remember how scared we all were when he didn’t come back.

The King sent someone else to poison Patton’s crops, and they came back. Succeeded.

News traveled fast, though, that the. Well. He was called a murderer then, and everyone was saying that the murderer’d run. Fled into the hills. And everyone was calling for the King to send a party against him.

The pressure went on for only about a year before the King caved. He said he sent a single knight against the murderer to best him in combat. The King sent me. He told me it didn’t matter how I did it, but that I just needed….he wanted me to bring Patton’s dead body back.

Virgil now looked down at the table, brow furrowed, angry at the memory. Thomas glanced up at Logan and Roman, noticing that they seemed surprised. Thomas hadn’t been asked to bring the body back, either. It might have been a custom that died with time.

Even Deceit was looking at his own lap, humming quietly along with the wind chime.

It was a tense, uncomfortable silence.

“Whew!” Thomas’ head snapped up at the sound of the side door opening. Patton walked in, wiping his hands on a towel. “Left was really milkin’ it today!”

Only Deceit chuckled. Virgil lowered his head onto the table, the hood of his cloak falling over his head. Logan groaned.

Patton seemed confused at what he’d walked into. He looked around at them all and opened his arms. “What’s wrong, kiddos? I hope that pun didn’t moove you!”

“We’re just, um….” Thomas looked up at Logan — he seemed to be the task manager.

Logan met his eyes and sighed. Despite only being here for a few hours, Thomas was already getting the hang of being here. Truth be told, he’d already made up his mind. Of course he was staying. But he didn’t want to be just stagnant. Not after all that he’d heard about the king.

“We are listening to Virgil explain how he arrived here. Are you….aware, of why he came?”

Patton grimaced as soon as Logan said “explain.” He stepped to Virgil’s side and gently rubbed his back. “Yeah, I remember when Virge arrived! He, uh….well, he was real determined!” he smiled, a little too cheerily for the topic, “But Deceit wasn’t havin’ any of that.”

“Sorry,” Deceit grumbled, “It was fun.”

Virgil sat up. “Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his face, “I’ll keep going.”

“Don’t wipe too hard, you’ll smudge your angsty make up,” Roman retorted, voice lacking the bite it’d had earlier, “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

Virgil looked up at him and they seemed to share a moment. Patton kept rubbing Virgil’s back, also watching Roman, then Logan. Scanning around, making sure his children were okay, Thomas reckoned. He was a little surprised when Patton’s eyes landed on him, too. He gave Patton a tiny smile, which Patton returned thrice as large.

“Well, this is a good time to, uh, air out the dirty laundry. I’m gonna cut up the brownies while you kiddos talk?” Patton patted Virgil’s shoulder one last time before walking around the table, towards the kitchen area.

Thomas watched him and Deceit share a look, too, though it was a little different from the other. He couldn’t tell how. Was it an increase in tension? Determination? Seriousness?

It must have communicated something, because Deceit rolled his eyes away and glared at Virgil’s back. “I cannot pick up the story, Virgil, if you would like,” he offered.

Virgil shook his head and faced Deceit. “No, nah, it’s….it’s okay. It’s way in the past anyway! And, ‘sides, I kicked Roman’s ass harder,” the last part was punctuated with Virgil pointing to Roman with his thumb over his shoulder.

Roman, however, snorted. “The only thing you kicked, Angst-fest, was the dirt after our glorious battle!”

“You started crying over your ripped cape, but go off,” Deceit said, checking his fingernails and digging the dirt out from under them.

“You little—”

“Shut it! Alright, so…..”

The whole chosen one thing wasn’t big back then, but everyone kinda knew about me being sent off. I didn’t say bye to my family or anything, either. Those assholes didn’t care.

“Virgil! No swearing!”

“Jeez, sorry Patt.”

The King set me up with everything, rations and money and weapons and all that jazz. It only took about a week to ride here, too, since it was the first time and none of the opportunists’d settled into where they are now.

Like, you know. Logan talked about having to fight a sphinx, when he first came. I’m sure you had to fight some things like that too. Creatures and peddlers and thieves set themselves up along the path, see if they can kill the Chosen One and loot their body. Or they just wanna swindle you out of money and goods.

None of that was there when I went. It was real easy, until I got to the mountain.

I ran into Patton first, while he was building the barn, actually. With like, his hands. I didn’t think he was the warlock but, well, did any of us? I asked what he was doing all the way out here, he said he lived here. He’d just moved. He was kinda jumpy, but like, that’s valid. He asked why I was here and I told him….I told him I was here to meet a warlock. Lied, and said I was here to discuss a truce with the King.

Patton flipped out. Super excited and all.

Here, Virgil gestured to Patton. “I dunno, do you wanna….pick up the story?”

Patton shot him a small smile and brought a plate of brownies to the table. As soon as he set it down, Roman grabbed one and began nibbling on it. Logan thanked him and took one as well, and then Virgil, who was still staring at Patton.

He leaned on the counter besides Deceit, who wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders. He took a deep breath.

“I thought it’d be the end of being chased around. Maybe I’d get to farm and-and go back down to the town. I missed having neighbors. But, like….at that point, it’d been a year. A little over a year of working with Deceit’s magic. And, since it’s tied to preservation and honesty, I could….I could hear you lying. It’s weird, but I could hear it, but I wanted to believe it so badly,” Patton shrugged.

“That means it wasn’t a dumbass idea,” Deceit grumbled.

Patton laughed behind a hand. It seemed no one was going to mention that Deceit had sworn. Logan raised a hand, but Virgil grabbed it and lowered it slowly, all waiting for Patton to continue. It only took a few moments before his hand dropped, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah, um. That wasn’t my brightest, I’ll admit,” Patton’s voice was airier, “I let Virgil in. We sat in the kitchen. We….I think I was just rambling at you.”

“You were telling me about the chickens you were raising,” Virgil added, eyes flickering towards Deceit.

“And I didn’t interrupt. You had a knife in your sleeve,” Deceit met Virgil’s gaze.

Virgil looked down at the table and nodded. “Deceit, uh….we had a fight.”

All was quiet, Virgil staring at the table and fidgeting with his sleeves, but Deceit leaned off of the counter behind himself. “Do you not want me to show it?” he offered, sincerity clear in his voice.

Virgil stood up, head snapping up to Deceit. “Don’t,” he leaned forward on the table, nostrils flaring, knuckles tight on the table’s edge.

Roman stood up, too, and — where the fuck did he get that sword? He stuck a sword between the two of them, holding up his off hand towards Virgil’s chest.

On instinct, Thomas stood as well, drawing his own sword and holding it out to mimic Roman. “Woah, woah, calm down, everyone. If that’s—if that’s where the story ends, then that’s fine, right?” Thomas glanced up at Roman for support, who nodded, then at Logan.

Logan….didn’t move. He was just watching Patton, who was standing behind Deceit, seemingly stricken. Thomas watched, too, as Patton blinked a little. He moved slow, like how one would when approaching a scared animal.

“....Dee. Don’t do it,” Patton grabbed Deceit’s arm, tugging him back a little.

Deceit didn’t break eye contact with Virgil. Just watched him quietly, the second eyelid over his snake eye blinking slowly. Virgil was matching his glare and seemed only a few seconds away from ripping Roman’s arm away from himself.

Yet he broke first, looking down and away. The room’s tension dropped, Roman spinning around and sheathing his sword. He held Virgil’s shoulders carefully and asked if he was okay. Patton pulled Deceit backwards into his arms, holding him tight and asking the same. Thomas himself just….watched. Slowly sank back into his seat, leaned backwards. Logan patted his arm and Thomas turned up towards him.

“I hope you can excuse the tension,” Logan’s voice was quiet, probably hoping to not be heard by the others, “They have a lot of history.”

“They. Deceit and Virgil, I’m guessing?” Thomas whispered back.

Logan nodded, fixing his glasses as he glanced back up at Deceit. “Deceit is fairly tame, for a forgotten deity, but he is incredibly protective of Patton. Given that Virgil was assigned to kill him, Deceit….well. I don’t know much of the story myself, but I do know that Virgil was defeated in hand to hand combat. Multiple times. They get along fair enough now but I assume those memories are still difficult to sit with.”

They both looked up at the sound of Roman tugging Virgil toward the door. Thomas couldn’t see much of Virgil, wrapped beneath his thick patchwork cloak, but the one hand he could see was gripping Roman’s white tunic tight enough to turn his hand just as white. A murderer. It was still a little hard to process, this teenager was supposed to be a hardened murderer. Roman held the door open with his foot and carefully ushered Virgil out. He caught Logan and Thomas’ eye as he hurried out and mouthed “We’ll be back,” before letting the door close behind himself.

Now, Logan and Thomas directed their attention to Deceit and Patton. They’d shifted, Deceit sitting on the counter, Patton holding his hands tight.

“He’s very human, all things considered,” Logan murmured just loud enough for Thomas to hear, “If you’d like….I can show you to your room for the night.”

Thomas looked at him. Logan was watching him as well, blue eyes piercing behind those glasses.

He reminded Thomas so much of the librarian, Emile, but with a different level of power. When Thomas had been chosen he went to Emile, only to be held in the tightest hug he’d ever felt. There were rumors in their village, there are always rumors, that Emile had the Gift of Sight and that he’d been able to see what happened to his brother. The same piercing eyes, the same knowing gaze. They held Thomas in his spot so well that he almost forgot he wasn’t standing in the library’s foyer, about to ask Mr. Picani if he’d ever climbed a mountain.

“....I….”

“I know you’ve made your decision, Thomas. Regardless of your desire to announce it or not, there are still a few hours until dinner and you may find it best to rest,” Logan’s face folded into a small fond smile, “Besides, Patton has been arranging your room for the past decade.”

They’d been expecting him. Of course they had, if the Chosen One was a generational tradition lasting over the past hundreds of years.

The thought made Thomas’ blood boil. He’d trained for years to protect Tomasphere but the more he learned about the royal family….

He hoped Logan couldn’t see his anger. Thomas smiled back, more unsure. “Um. Yeah, sure,” he followed Logan as he rose and tucked in his chair.

“Patton,” Patton turned to look over his shoulder at Logan and Thomas, “I’m going to take Thomas to his room. Roman and Virgil are outside.”

“Wait,” Deceit’s hand — Thomas’ fists balled tightly as he saw that there were claws, claws on his scaled left arm, just like the claws that gripped his throat only a few days ago — pulled Patton’s shoulder to the side, “I can tell Virgil totally wants to finish the story, so I shouldn’t step in. Thomas’ isn’t staying, ergo the story shouldn’t be finished.”

Logan frowned at him, opening his mouth to interrupt, then closing his mouth as he tried to decipher the circle speak. Thomas watched him, deferring in a moment of fear, but Logan only shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary—”

“Virgil didn’t get his ass handed to him so bad, and it definitely took less than a week for him to fully recover,” Deceit rubbed the back of his neck, “It….I’m completely proud.”

“Dee, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t break his spine. He—Patton, sunlight, he—Patton.”

Deceit’s eyes flicked toward Thomas, whose fists clenched even firmer, and then down to the table. His shaking shoulders were hunched just enough for Patton to pull him back to his chest and for him to rest his head in the crook of Patton’s neck. “Now, Dee, you were different. That was a few centuries ago, and you were different. Things’re better now,” he rubbed the deity’s back, running a hand through his dark brown hair, “Things’re better.”

“I don’t know, Patt,” Deceit’s voice was muffled but held a distinct change in tone.

Thomas wanted to watch, something in him wanted to bear witness to this honest side of Deceit. He hadn’t been sure about Deceit’s sincerity since he’d met him, certain that there were backward statement and some very obvious lies, but, well, Thomas couldn’t exactly tell. The sentiment of his sorrow, though, and the tone. The tone of his voice. Was he being honest?

But Logan’s hand gripped his arm and tugged.

“Thomas. Let’s go,” his voice was firm, and Thomas couldn’t help but obey.

He followed Logan out of the kitchen and left Patton to calm the upset god. He followed Logan into a smaller room, furnished with a fully-made bed, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a candlestick in a lantern already glowing. It seemed quaint, like moving into a new room, but Thomas could already tell that it was meant to be “home.” He dropped his satchel onto the desk and looked up. There were stars drawn onto the ceiling in golden ink, an “R+L” in the corner paying homage to the artists.

If Logan expected some sort of reaction, he was sorely disappointed. Once he saw the bed, Thomas knew he was done for, as the weight of how much he’d gone through during the day finally crashed onto his shoulders. He took a few steps toward the bed, collapsed onto it and, within mere seconds, was asleep.

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rosesisupposes · 6 years ago

Text

Destined, part 8

aka Sweet Dreams are Made of These

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings:

Chapter Warnings: lies, theft, negative self-talk

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @brendonuriesguardianvirgil

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9>>

Read on Ao3

Flashback: central Europe, 1000 CE

Kat Baker was not a very good one. At the very least, she was the worst baker in the Baker family. And today she’d proved beyond a doubt that if she inherited running the family store, as she was expected to, Bakers’ Dozen would be out of business within the week. She could practically feel three generations of Baker women glaring at her in disappointment.

It had started with the sign.

Mama had asked her to paint a new sign after the old one rotted. She had been ecstatic. Finally, a chance to create something not made of icing! Something that would last!

She’d been very methodical about it, too. She’d sketched several designs and got Mama’s approval, and made a quick version on parchment paper before trying to recreate it on the wooden sign that hung outside the thatched-roof bakery.

But today, once she finally had gotten her paints out, she had gotten too caught up in it, and she’d forgotten to take the loaves out of the oven. The simple daily loaves. The kind that people actually depended on the Baker business for. The kind that were the staple of half their villages’ meals for the day. They had burned, and Mama and her sister Cythera had had to use up the extra dough to quickly get out as many as possible for the daily traffic.

All the pretty, fancy baking that Kat was good at helping with was just extra, the kind of thing that would help them maintain and expand their business. The village loved her sugar flowers and decorations, even the elegantly braided and twisted breads, but they didn’t live on sweetcakes. The daily bread was the backbone of the town and the store itself. Mama was furious.

Kat had run to the woods, crying. Why couldn’t she be a better daughter, a better Baker. Why was she so flighty when her family needed her to be stable, and dependable, and adult?

She ran down a barely-seen path to a small glade, and threw herself down on the mossy bank of the small pond there. This was her paradise, her tranquil pool. She sat and breathed in and out, listening to forest sounds and admiring the flowers around her. At least here she felt like she belonged, and there were no expectations to disappoint.

Relaxing, she doodled in the dirt with a reed plucked from the bank, sketching the water lilies gently floating on the pool’s surface. She started adding flourishes - a frog on a lilypad, a bird overhead, a butterfly in flight. Her concentration was entirely locked on the spreading patterns drawn in the dirt.

Right up until she heard a splash and a voice yell for help.

A tiny blue form was in the middle of the pool, struggling to stay afloat as sodden white wings threatened to sink it. With a start but no hesitation, she waded in, and used a lilypad to scoop up the small creature.

Kat brought it back to land, and deposited her tiny, soaked burden on the dry moss. Shakily standing, a tiny voice said “Thank you, you sweet thing! You saved my life!”

Getting a good look at last, Kat gasped. It was a fairy! A real-life fairy! She knew they existed of course, and everyone said this forest was mystic, but she’d only ever heard stories. The small creature had sky-blue skin, from tiny toes to dangling antennae. Moth wings, white with light brown dots, flapped out from a wee torso in an effort to dry them.

“Oh, toadstools- I haven’t introduced myself. Hello, human! I’m Baxter!”

“Hello, Baxter, I’m Kat. Are you alright?”

The little fairy grinned. “I’ve been wetter! I was almost in over my head in that situation! But thanks to you I’ll be all flight now!”

Kat giggled. The fairy grinned even more broadly. They loved it when people enjoyed their jokes.

“So, mister Kat!” they peeped cheerfully. “How can I repay you for saving my life?”

“Oh, it was no troub- wait, mister?”

“Fiddlesticks, did I get that wrong again? You humans and your non-fluid genders, I’ll never learn. Do you prefer miss, is that right term? More importantly, can I call you Kitty Kat?”

Kat scowled. “No one calls me Kitty. Well, except Cythy, and only because she’s my little sister. And Mama, but only to annoy me. I’m just Kat. Miss Kat, but only if you insist.”

Baxter shrugged philosophically. “Someday, I will find a kitty I can get along with. Actual cats keep trying to eat me. And - oh wait, I was asking a question back there wasn’t I. Oh yes. What can I do to repay you, my sweet Miss Kat?”

Kat grinned at the funny little creature. “You don’t need to do anything for me - unless you can turn me into not a disaster.”

“Exccuussee me?” the fairy asked, offended. They tested their now-dry wings, and fluttered up to Kat’s eye level. “Are you bad-talking my newest best friend?”

“Who’s your - oh. Me.” She shrugged. “It’s not bad-talking if it’s true. I am a disaster and my whole family - no, the whole village - knows it.”

“I will PHYSICALLY FIGHT YOU!” the fairy said, holding up tiny fists.

Kat eyed them with a crooked smile. The fairy’s body was all of four inches tall, their long curly antenna only adding another half inch. “I mean it!” they insisted fiercely. “You are great and perfect! You just saved my life! How could you not be!”

“Because I’m supposed to be a baker and I just can’t do any of it right. Not to mention actually running a business! I just mess everything up and make my family’s life harder.”

“You adorable wingless butterfly, I am sure that’s not true.”

“It is. Every last bread loaf burned today, all because of me. People needed those, and because of me Cythera and Mama will be exhausted tonight when they need to be preparing for tomorrow.”

“I know! I could help you! With just a pinch of magic, you won’t give loaf a bad name!”

Kat half-heartedly laughed at the pun, but couldn’t restrain her sighs. “But even then… I’d be dependent on that for everything. And it wouldn’t be fair to Cythera. She’s the one who can actually bake, and she’s so good at it. Plus, she’s already had so many good ideas about how to make Mama’s life easier. Why couldn’t she have been the oldest? She could inherit the store, like she deserves to. I just want to make beautiful things, without the pressure of knowing families rely on me every day to get food out early enough.”

Baxter frowned. “Have you asked if you can just… not inherit and let your sister take over? It seems like that would make everyone happy.”

“I want to, it’s just… I love my family so much, I would never want to do wrong by them. If I tell Mama I don’t want to run the shop… wouldn't that be rejecting all her hard work, and telling her it didn’t mean anything? And her mother’s work, and her mother’s mother’s work… they all took on the responsibility for our store and our family name. None of them shirked their duty. If I do, that’s who I’ll be my whole life. The Baker who wasn’t.” A tear fell from her cheek and landed on her stained apron.

Baxter sat on her shoulder, legs dangling past her collarbone. “Hey, kiddo, it’s alright! You would be happier, and so would your family - that’s all you could ask for, right?”

Kat shook her head, careful not to knock off her new friend. “It just feels wrong. I know I’m not the best at it, but I promised Mama I would. I promised Papa I would. How can I back out of a promise, especially if I don’t know it will work out? Or even what else I would do?”

“What do you want to do, Kat Not-a-Baker?”

“I want to create, but not from dough,” she whispered reverently. “I want to paint and draw, and make beautiful things. Permanent things,” she added, looking sadly at her drawings in the dirt. In the scramble to rescue Baxter, almost all the marks had been smudged or splashed away. “It always feels so natural and right, when I’m able to sketch, or doodle, or paint. But I don’t know if that means it’s what I’m really meant to do, or if I’m just frivolous and need to focus. That’s what Gran’mama always said, anyway.”

Baxter hummed. “I might be able to help you there,” they said, dangling their legs and swinging them a little. “With my help, you might be able to find just the right person who can tell you exactly what you’re meant to be.”

Kat turned her head to stare at the blue creature. “Like… like a Quest?!”

“Exactly like a Quest,” Baxter replied. They knew that techhhhhnicalllyy, they’re not supposed to be going off on Quests without becoming an official Fairy Godparent, but even official parents don’t get to choose their Godchildren. And Baxter liked Kat a lot.

Plus, the Elders were sticks-in-the-mud and kept saying that Baxter “wasn’t ready” and needed to “stop making so many puns” and “take this seeeeeriousssslyyy.”

All the younger fairies loved them, and thought their advice was great. Maybe if they proved they could be a really great Godparent to Kat, the Elders would finally see reason.

This was a great plan, they could feel it all the way to the tips of their wings.

“Have you heard of the Harz Forest, or the Fortuneteller of the Wood?” they asked, fluttering out in front of the teen.

“Only that humans almost never go in it, and that everyone who tries to enter gets lost. And Auntie Delinda says it’s because the magic folk scare or curse everyone to make sure only the worthy can reach the Teller, but Mama says that’s horseradish and that fortune-tellers are just regular people telling you what you want to hear.”

Baxter put their hands on their hips. “I am offended. Here I am, a real-life fairy, and you’re telling me the magic folk are horseradish?”

“Don’t blame me!” Kat said with a pout. “I’ve been looking for fairies, or unicorns, or even a dragon as long as it’s something magical, for my whole life, and I only just found you on accident today. If most humans have to go at least fifteen years without any clues, no wonder Mama thinks fairies have disappeared.”

Baxter looked chagrined. “The fae folk have been limiting our contact lately, it’s true. Does that mean your mother won’t let you come with me?”

“Not at all - when she sees you, and you tell her we’re going on a Quest! She’ll have to agree. She may be a skeptic, but even she knows the tales - that to be a fairy’s Goddaughter is special, and there are consequences of denying a fairy Quest.”

“That...is… absolutely right! Yes, what we’re doing is a true, official fairy Quest, because you, Kat Baker, are just too special to ignore, you delightful little cherub. Yessiree, you are indeed a Goddaughter, and I am your Official™ Fairy Godparent!” Baxter lied. It was for a good cause, after all.

“Did you say something after official? What is a tee-ehm? Is it like a fairy’s magic wand?”

“Uh, yes! Yes, that’s very wise of you to point out. I will need to stop by my colony to get my magic wand before we can leave. If you meet me here as early as you can tomorrow morning, we can go talk to your mother then. And then we can be off on our Quest - to find the Fortuneteller of the Wood!”

Kate leapt to her feet. “You mean it? Really? Tomorrow? Oh, I’m so excited! Yes, I will be here once the bread is out tomorrow, just after sunrise. I’ll see you tomorrow, Baxter!”

Baxter watched her go, then wheeled in midair to head back to the colony. He’d committed, now. All that was left to do was get a wand.

If Kat hadn’t been convinced that Baxter was magical, this proved it.

Her Mama, her skeptic, no-nonsense, stubborn Mama, had needed only 5 minutes talking with the little fairy to allow her to go off on her Quest. Mama had packed a haversack with the most durable loaves, and made sure she brought her Papa’s forest journal of edible plants.

“Take care of it, and yourself, my sweet Kat. I hope your Quest goes well, and that you find what you’re looking for,” she had said, hugging her tightly and kissing her forehead.

Cythy was jealous, but promised to support Mama. “Bring me back an extra prince, Kitty! Or tell Baxter to come live with us!” Their charm had clearly roped in the entire Baker family. It was something in those earnest brown eyes, and the wide smile. Plus, they seemed to give off respect like a perfume when they put their mind to it.

And now, not even a day later, they’d reached the edge of the Harz Forest. They knew that the Fortuneteller lived deep in the woods, at the furthest point from all the edges. Kat was dying of curiosity - what kept people away? Would it be scary? Would she be ready?

She and Baxter were following what path seemed to exist. It was faint, and definitely not commonly trod. But it definitely was moving steadily away from the edge of the forest, so it must be heading deeper in.

Baxter spent parts of the journey flying beside he, and parts sitting on her shoulder or on her pack, telling stories about antics they and their fae friends had gotten into, and slowly convincing the girl to let them call her Kitty Kat. They were in the middle of a rather entertaining story regarding Baxter’s first ill-fated attempt to befriend an actual cat when they suddenly pulled on Kat’s hair, squeaking “Pump the brakes there, kiddo.”

Kat looked around, confused. She didn’t see anything threatening - what was wrong?

Baxter flew out in front of her, soft wings flapping as they removed their wand from a tiny holster on their waist. Their eyes and wand glowed as they turned in a semicircle, continuing to hover. “Aha! Oh, that is just so clever,” they exclaimed. Turning to their human companion - no, their Goddaughter - Baxter explained, “It’s wood sprite magic. That’s what protects this forest. There are misdirection charms everywhere, designed to send any humans right back to the edges of the forest without realizing they’ve been turned around. It would work on anyone unable to cast spells, though magic folk like me might notice something funny. Luckily, I am your Godparent, and I am Prepared!”

A glow arose from the tip of their wand, spreading into a silvery bubble the enclosed fairy and human alike. It hung for a moment, then melted away. “We’ll be all set now - the spells won’t affect us. The sprites have gotten more strategic than I remember - time was they’d just try to strangle any intruders one by one. But this way, they only need to maintain the spell, and don’t risk losing any of their own!”

Kat rubbed her throat at the thought of wood sprites and strangulation. “Will they still try to stop us? Is there danger?”

“I don’t believe so. We just need to be careful to not harm any trees. Not that either of us wood,” they added, flying next to Kat just to elbow her lightly. She giggled. “No really! These wood sprites are all the same! No bite, all bark!”

“Baxter, you were definitely destined to be my Godparent. Papa used to make the same jokes all the time. I always groaned and complained, but I loved them. I wish I could have told him that.”

The blue fairy felt their heart squeeze. They flew up and stroke the girl’s head. “Kiddo, don’t you worry. He knew.”

As Baxter had predicted, they didn’t encounter any trouble. It was a far distance to walk, but they were able to find small clearings to sleep in. At night, Baxter cast a protection spell just in case, and included heat in the ward, so there was no need to harm any trees for firewood.

It took two nights and three days of walking before Baxter noticed heavier layers of magic, and Kat spotted a break in the trees ahead. “This must be it!” Kat said excitedly. “The center of the forest - we’re almost at the home of the Fortuneteller of the Wood!”

They were expecting a cottage, maybe a tower. What they found was a huge natural home built in the heart of a tree. A sprawling tree, at least fifteen feet in diameter, twisted up towards the clouds above. A hollow in the middle of the trunk contained what looked like a natural staircase as the tree continued to grow around it. The stairs twined within the trunk before disappearing into a dense canopy.

“Should we… go up?” Kat asked nervously. “I hate to barge in…”

“The Teller probably isn’t used to guests, so wouldn’t know to check for us,” Baxter noted. “Let’s see where the stairs lead.”

They climbed up carefully, both in awe of the massive natural being. They reached the top only to find a room made out of twined branches. The floor was a net of branches in all directions, curving up and around to create the walls. It felt a bit like standing in a wicker basket - a still-living basket that pulsed with green life on every side.

Kat made eye contact with Baxter, who nodded encouragingly. She took a deep breath, and called out “Mr. Fortuneteller? Teller of the Wood? I come seeking my destiny!”

They heard a rustling above them. Through the leaves and branches above her head, Kat saw a form swinging back and forth from branch to branch. It descended quickly, but with what was clearly ease of long practice. The form finally dropped deftly in front of the fairy and human guests in its home, bracing its landing with a bended knee.

The form rose to full height. It was a long way to go. Baxter’s first thought was a druid or a sprite grown to fifty times its size, but neither druids nor sprites could be fortune-tellers. No, this was just a Sage who’d chosen to blend in with his home. His skin was a dark, warm brown, made even darker by his leathery tan. His hair was a mixture of dark and light green, falling messily into his face and almost - almost - obscuring shockingly bright green eyes. His cheeks had what could have been greenish stubble, but could also be lichen. At his full height, he was at least six feet tall, towering over both his guests.

Baxter was absolutely overcome. They would have expected the Sage to stand awkwardly, but his body was well-proportionate to his height, and he was clearly in his element surrounded by his wooded home. When Baxter was finally able to pull his eyes away from the tall tree man, he noticed wood sprites darting in and out of the tree room, flitting around their giant counterpart and away.

“Welcome, Seeker,” the Teller said at last. His voice was rough with disuse, but shiveringly deep, and Baxter could feel himself swooning as he fluttered by Kat’s shoulder. “I am the one some call the Fortuneteller of the Wood. My name is Devas.”

Kat gave a small curtsy. “Greetings, Devas. I am Katherine Baker, Kat. And this is my fairy Godparent, Baxter.”

“A Quest, is this? You must be very special to have a fairy Quest bring you to me. Particularly when I have not been an active Fortune Teller in over a hundred years.”

Kat beamed with pride. “They are an excellent Godparent, and have guided me here to help me find my destiny!”

Devas hesitated, and seemed ready to decline, but paused when the small blue fairy came up to just below eye level. Baxter felt their tiny heart beating much quicker as those emerald eyes inspected him. Devas rumbled, “I have been acting as protector to the sprites of this forest, helping the trees themselves repel advancing farmers and conquerors. Tell me, fairy, why I should resume the ancient duties I had left behind these many years?”

Baxter shivered, partly in fear, and partly not in fear at all. They drew a deep breath, and channeled their innate magic to sweeten the mood of the giant man. “Devas, great Sage, we have journeyed long to find you. My young friend here - that is, my Goddaughter, is torn between duty and passion. She just wants to know which choice will be Right. Can you, Heart of the Harz, Teller of the Wood, please help her? It’s for her family!”

Devas had never seen a fairy with such striking brown eyes, made all the more startling by the contrast from their bright blue body. And the way the little thing looked at him as they asked, on behalf of their charge… Devas may have been committed to his forest home, but he didn’t have a wooden heart. He relented.

“Very well, young Seeker. Do you know the invocation?” he asked as relaxed his lanky form into a tailor’s seat. Sitting, he still almost as tall as the teen who cautiously approached him.

“I do, great Teller,” she said, taking a breath. “Sage, I entreat you, tell me my destiny.”

“Seeker, to know your destiny is to be bound by it. Are you prepared to risk your future?”

“I am.” Her small face was determined.

“Then give me your hands, and prepare to be bound.”

Devas’ huge brown hands enveloped Kat’s, the paler skin of his palms still not as light as hers. He closed his eyes and looked into the ether.

Kat Baker. What a relief. No dragons or quests or risking the world. She just wanted to know if she was wrong to have an ‘impractical’ passion. It reminded Devas fondly of the farmers from all those years ago at Delphi. No grand decisions of right and wrong - just hoping that life will go her way. And it was within her power - no magic needed. If only all destinies were like this, Devas might not have escaped to the woods for his current lifetime. He smiled internally, and spoke.

“To trust that beauty will be recognized, you must commit with all your heart.”

Kat withdrew her hands, her eyes shining. She looked up at her fluttering companion and grinned. “Baxter, did you hear that! That sounds like a good sign!”

“It sure does kiddo! I can hardly be-leaf it!”

Something was bothering Devas. This wasn’t his first interaction with a fairy Godparent, and this one was… different. Much less polished. Far more scattered than fairies tended to want Godparents to be. And Devas was just a tad suspicious.

“Fairy - Baxter, was it? Do you seek a destiny as well? On behalf of your Quest, I will Tell it for you, if you wish.”

“Ohhh I don’t know that that’s necessary, my future can really stay a mys-tree!”

“Oh Bax, don’t be silly!” Kat piped up. “Even if you know you’re going to keep being a fairy Godparent, don’t you want a hint for how things will go?”

A strained look flashed across the little creatures’ blue face. They fluttered up towards the leafy ceiling, muttering to themself. Finally, they descended, and landed on Devas’ large palm. “I… suppose there are questions I have for the future. Here goes nothing. Sage, I entreat you, tell me my destiny.”

“Seeker, to know your destiny is to be bound by it. Are you prepared to risk your future?”

Baxter’s face turned a much lighter shade of blue, but they proceeded nonetheless. “I am.”

“Then give me your hands, and prepare to be bound.”

Two tiny hands wrapped around the Sage’s thumb as the ether clouded his vision once more.

As he gazed through flashing futures, Devas immediately felt his suspicions were well-founded. There were possible future Godchildren, yes, but far more were ending up selfish, or cruel, or cowardly than fairies were supposed to allow. And in the futures without Godchildren, Baxter was exiled entirely, shut out of their colony. Devas frowned. He didn’t see any future choices that caused it. What could the fairy have already done? Was it worth it to check?

A sudden voice, high-pitched but firm and filled with disdain. “Once a thief, forever a thief.” It came from a grave-looking fairy, clearly much older than Baxter, surrounded by a group of stone-faced elders. That was it. Devas was going to look into the past.

Devas is Baxter, sitting with a smaller, younger fairy. “Now Felics, I know you didn’t mean to hurt Poppy, but you did hurt them, and you need to apologize. “But Bax, what if they are still mad at me? Can’t I just wait until they feel better?” “No, kiddo, you can’t. Sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t feel all that great.”

The world shifts, to only hours later. Devas feels their fairy heart fluttering as quickly as their wings with nerves. Their prank went wrong, and their best friend is furious with them. Why can’t they understand it was a joke? Devas always meant it to be a joke, they should know that. If they don’t understand that and don’t want to be part of the delights that are Devas’ brilliant pranks, maybe it’s best they not be friends anymore.

Devas paused in his visions. He recognized the sentiment - feelings always threatened to overpower better judgment. But to give in to the emotional reaction just after urging the impressionable not to? No wonder their potential future Godchildren could be so… petty.

It is night, just a few days ago. Devas flies silently through the colony. They’d slipped through the illusion on the huge, mossy boulder during the ritual hour, as everyone was out in fairy circles. Their luck is doubly in - only one Elder is guarding the inner vault, and it’s Blunda. She is old and sleepy, and it takes just a whispered suggestion with a tiny twist of magic to have her snoring. Devas grins to themself. Clearly, this is why they would make a great Godparent. They’re so resourceful! The Elders really didn’t know what they were missing, delaying their first deployment. They fly into the vault, and found racks upon racks of magic wands. Bee-ee-ay-youtiful. They select a belt and holster from the tray, then reach for one of the magic objects. As they snatch it, they sense alarm spells going off, zooming to the Elders. Time for their escape. They race past Blunda (still sleeping) and take a hidden shortcut through the colony walls, escaping into open air. They feel a slight twinge against their conscience. They know stealing is Wrong, but who else would help Kat? The Elders were so particular in which children were named Godchildren. Baxter likes Kat a lot, and she was so kind to them. So helping her must be Right, and anything they do that helps her is also Right.

Right?

Devas drew back, frowning. Now the futures all made sense. But the fairy can’t be beyond all help, are they? Devas knew he was likely overstepping, but he asked Baxter a clarifying question.

“Fairy, what do you want your destiny to be? What do you want to be your life’s work and legacy?”

Baxter smiled cheerfully. “I want to be a Good Fairy and Godparent, and help as many kiddos as I can, and bring smiles to their faces!”

“Can a Godparent be Good if their idea of Good shifts?” Devas asked quietly.

The fairy went pale. Devas nodded, then spoke Baxter’s destiny.

“A willow that bends without end supports no weight. An unforgiving oak will break those that oppose it. Only if you can resist these extremes will the forest path be revealed to you.”

Baxter’s tiny mouth hung open, processing what the forest Sage had said. They had a lot to consider.

As fairy and girl made their way along the long journey home, Kat asked Baxter what they were thinking, unnerved by their uncharacteristic silence.

“Kitty Kat, have I been a good Godparent to you? Have I helped you figure out the Right thing to do?”

“Of course you’ve been good! You got us to the Sage and now I know what I need to do! At least I think I do.”

“But do I do what’s Right? Or just what I think will make me happy?”

“Both, I think!”

“What about when they’re not the same?”

Kat frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s happened, has it?”

Baxter’s insides twisted. Should they have admitted to Kat that the wand was stolen? But that would mean admitting that they hadn’t been assigned to her, that she hadn’t been picked as a Goddaughter. Would that hurt her? Wouldn’t she feel liked Baxter had betrayed her?

Their sudden realization caused them to fly straight into a tree branch.

They were asking themselves entirely the wrong questions. They couldn’t focus on the perceived outcomes of their actions, but on what was the right thing to do. And the right thing to do was to tell Kat the truth. All of it.

They had betrayed Kat, by lying, and convincing her to leave her family on false pretenses. The forest hadn’t been dangerous, but it could have been, and Kat would have been at risk of her life without even knowing why.

“Kiddo? I mean, Kat? Can we take a break for a second,” they asked nervously.

“Of course, Baxter. Are your wings tired?”

“No, I just… need to get something off my chest.”

“We’d better sit down then. Wouldn’t want you to get crushed!” Kat replied with a goofy grin. The cheesy joke, so like their own, made Baxter grin back in spite of themself.

Kat settled carefully in a mossy clearing, checking for saplings before sitting gently. Even though there was no longer a threat, she didn’t want to harm Devas’ forests.

Baxter found a sapling, barely over two feet tall, and alit on the top-most branch. Leaning against the slender trunk, they let their wings fall back into a rest position. They looked down at their tiny blue feet, not wanting to make eye contact with Kat just yet.

“I… I want to apologize, Kat. I have not been a good Godparent to you.”

Kat looked at him quizzically. “Bax, what do you mean? You’ve been so nice! And we succeeded in our Quest to find the Teller, and we’re practically home already. That all sounds like a great Godparent to me!”

“That’s just it, Kat. It wasn’t a Quest, not truly. And… I’m not a real Godparent. I just really, really wanted to be one. I’m so sorry,” Baxter said sadly. They looked up. Kat’s face was one of confusion, but her eyes still radiated trust for her magical companion of the past week. They felt their heart squish itself into an even tighter corner of their chest.

“The fae folk have a lot of very strict rules over who can be deployed as a Godparent, and who can be a Godchild. I’ve always resented those rules, because the Elders kept telling me I wasn’t ready, and I was so sure that I was.

“But now I understand, finally, why I never was. Kat, I… I lied to you. From practically the moment we first met. I was never chosen to be your Godparent. And to the best of my knowledge… you were never chosen to be a Godchild.”

Kat’s confusion shifted into clear self-doubt, and her eyes started to mist over with tears. This was even harder than Baxter had feared it would be.

“Kitty Kat, I promise you, it’s not because you aren’t brilliant, or talented, or delightful. There are just very exacting standards. It always feels like the Elders have some weird measuring cord - ‘Must Be This Miserable or Have This Much Potential Greatness or Must Have Been This Much Switched At Birth to Get a Fairy’. It’s not about who deserves one, I don’t think, but about whose life absolutely needs magical help to spread the most good in the world. And we don’t want to admit it, but we fae folk are shrinking in number. We live for hundreds of years, yes, but almost all our colonies are aging, and we don’t have as many potential parents to deploy. I’ve never heard of a fairy living over 1,000, and my Elders are all well into their 900s...”

Baxter shook their head. “Sorry, I’m getting distracted. That’s not the point. The point is… I wanted so badly to have the title of Godparent, to skip the process and go right to the glory, that I lied to you. I justified it because I was helping you, but I was really just trying to help myself. I lied to your family, and brought you out to these woods. What if they had been truly dangerous? If you’d been hurt… Kitty Kat, I would never forgive myself. And it would have been all my fault. I even stole this wand from my colony’s vaults, and told myself I deserved to have one. I am glad that you got to hear your destiny, and that you feel confident in your path moving forward. I really am. But you deserved better than me - as a Godparent or as a friend. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

They took a deep breath, still avoiding the girl’s eyes. “I understand if you are mad at me. I hope you will still allow me to accompany you until the end of this journey, so that I can at least protect you until you are safe at home.”

Long moments passed. Kat still had not made a sound. Baxter cringed. She hates me. She must. How could she not - I am a thief and a liar and I risked her life for my own ego.

Or maybe, she is just nervous. I should reassure her. If she needs to be reassured, I need to be the one to do it. I owe her that much, at least.

They peered up, still cringing, prepared for anger and disgust. They instead saw disappointment. Somehow, that was even worse.

“I… don’t know what to say. Thank you for telling me the truth.” Kat looked down, fiddling with the frayed hem of her apron. “I’m glad that I did get to meet the Teller, at least. And the sprites. I’m glad I know there is a destiny where I am happy, and pursuing my dream. I just wish… I wish I’d actually deserved it.”

Baxter’s heart broke.

“Kitty Kat… you did deserve it. And you do. Kat, please look at me,” Baxter pleaded. The girl reluctantly met their eyes, her own bright with unshed tears. “Kat, you deserve all of this and more. Certainly more than this shoddy excuse for a fake Godparent. I… know I haven't exactly been trustworthy. Ask me to swear by anything, though. I really and truly mean it.”

Kat frowned. “Swear by your destiny, then. The tales all say that breaking an oath will destroy the magic of what you swear by. Will you risk it? Or will you take the easy way out again?”

Baxter swallowed. Her tone hurt, but they knew they deserved it. “I will, Kat. I will swear by my destiny that you deserved this quest, and you deserved a Godparent. Even if I wasn’t the one you deserved.”

Both fairy and human regarded each other in silence for a moment. The only sound was the whispers of wind in the treetops above.

Finally, Kat nodded. “Thank you, Baxter. I believe you. And… I forgive you.”

“Why? I mean, really? You don’t have to, I know it was wrong and hurtful, you don’t have to be okay with it already…”

“But that’s just it, Bax,” the girl said. She stood, and reached out a hand for the fairy to step on. “You know now. I think, maybe, you knew before too, but you didn’t want to admit it. Because it was too hard, or too painful. But now you have, despite that.” She held small blue being up to her eye level. “You made mistakes, Bax. And your mistakes hurt others. But I don’t think you’ll ever make those mistakes again, now that you see that. I think you’re a Good fairy, and have always been one deep down. You just know to listen to that deep-down voice more now.”

Baxter tried to swallow the quickly-forming lump in their throat. She believed in them. After everything they’d brought her through, and everything they’d admitted, she believed. They’d never felt like anyone believed in them before. Even before they’d become a prankster, no one in the colony had ever seemed to expect them to be anything special or Good.

“Thank you, Kat. I am going to try my best, and keep trying even when I don’t quite get there. I hope you’ll be proud of me.”

“I know I will be. Swear on my destiny,” she said with a smile.

Baxter flew closer and hugged as much of her face as they could. “I’m sorry I was a fake Godparent, but I am so glad you were my fake Goddaughter. When we get back - will you be my not-fake friend?”

Kat carefully pat their head as a hug back, smiling. “Just you try and stop me!”

Fairy and human set off to the forest’s edge, heading home again. The sprite spells helped guide them away from the heart of the woods, and away from the Sage who’d given them both hope. Baxter was sorry they would likely never see Devas again, but one destiny was enough for anyone’s lifetime.

Besides, the Sage could only get so much credit. Finding him had been a grand adventure, but it was their young human friend who’d truly helped them find what they’d been missing.

Kat had rescued them, the first day they’d met. Now, she’d rescued them again, but for the rest of their life. If it hadn’t been for her, they might never have found their morality.

Notes:

Baxter’s wings are based on the moth Eudeilinia herminiata. Fun fact - this type of moth feeds exclusively trees from the dogwood genus

(did I specifically surround Baxter with Kat and Dog(wood)s yes, yes I did)

Baxter: Anglo-Saxon/Scottish origin, means “baker”

#destined #fanfic #sanders sides #modern fantasy au #writing #i love my smol fairy son

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notveryglittery · 7 years ago

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ssps prompt #9

summary: “And where was the last place you saw the object in question?” “I already told you, Lo– er, Detective Holmes.” words: 2,500 / ships: platonic logince, if you squint warnings: mentions of a previous injury/burn, illness, deceit, daggers/a sword, fighting, potion use, blood. notes: read prompts: #6, #7, and #8 or else you’ll be really confused! we’re almost there, guys!! shout out to nick for helping me figure out virgil’s deal with the dragon-witch! @sanderssidespromptsummer / read on ao3

Twenty hours later and Virgil was still bedridden.

He’d woken briefly twice, moaning about being too hot or too cold, before slipping back into a fever-induced and restless sleep. Logan couldn’t understand it. They weren’t supposed to be able to get sick, unless Thomas himself was ill, and wasn’t taking care of himself. Generally, the sides weren’t effected by such things, seeing as they weren’t technically physical. Virgil, however, was showing signs of… Well, that was the other thing. No matter how much research Logan had done in the last twelve hours (and only because Patton had forced him to get some rest), he couldn’t figure out for the life of him what Virgil had come down with.

There was no hiding the wound on his neck from Patton and Roman once they’d come to help. Logan had explained as quickly as he could to the others what Virgil had told him before falling unconscious. As such, they had him created a new room entirely next to Patton’s. It was easy to do something like this and they did so frequently, for group activities or planning in pairs, when they didn’t want to be effected by each other’s rooms, or didn’t feel like using the Commons. It was a simple guest bedroom but it was protected by the same rules: the Dragon-Witch could not enter it. Patton moved frequently in and out of it, forgoing using the door just in case, and Roman had to remind him to not sink in and out so quickly, as he kept getting dizzy afterwards.

Remy had stepped in eventually to help Patton lay down for a nap because Patton (the hypocrite) hadn’t slept a wink since finding out what happened to Virgil. He’d helped Roman to calm down as well when the former flipped his lid over finding out about the deal Virgil had made with the Dragon-Witch. Or… as much as he could find out, seeing as how Virgil hadn’t actually gotten around to telling Logan. He’d very nearly gone into the Fantasy Realm on his own to take care of this before Logan had stopped him. He had insisted on Roman not going alone, on there being strength in numbers, and really, Logan was quite sure the only reason Roman had agreed to wait, was because Patton was giving him a very stern look from behind his back.

“I’ll come with you,” Remy offered, sipping from his Starbucks tumbler. He’d been at it far more often than usual and Logan was beginning to wonder whether he was drinking coffee or tea. Remy hadn’t slept, either, but seeing as he was the Figment for sleep, it might not have been necessary. Logan added it to his list of things to look into.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave Patton alone.” Logan glanced upstairs, where Patton was currently taking care of Virgil. “We both know how he gets when Virgil is unwell.”

“Understatement,” Remy scoffed. “Alright, I’ll stay with pops, then.” He brandished his phone, eyebrows raising from behind his sunglasses. “Text if you need me.”

Logan promised.

Two hours later, with the sun midway through its journey in the sky, Roman and Logan headed into the Fantasy Realm. Roman was armed to the teeth, with his trusty sword, and a number of daggers hidden on his person. Logan carried with him a satchel, filled with potions Roman had retrieved from an apothecary in the nearest village. There was also a spell book and Roman had insisted Logan read from it while they traveled to the Dragon-Witch’s lair on horseback.

“I don’t know a thing about magic, Roman,” Logan countered. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for this.” Still, he thumbed through the pages. Anything was better than nothing.

“I know that, Specs,” Roman answered and his tone was hard. He’d been on edge for so long, Logan was surprised he hadn’t ground his teeth to dust. “Just look through it to try and find one that might help us. I can cast it if necessary.” Logan added that to his list of things he didn’t know about Roman.

“You’re capable of casting spells?” Logan asked.

Roman huffed, shooting him an amused glance. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m capable of lots of things.” For a moment there, he sounded like himself again. “It’s only in my Realm, anyway.” He shifted in his saddle. “And a lot of good it does me when I can’t use it to simply teleport us to our destination.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan began, carefully. “This is your Realm. The Dragon-Witch is a creation of your own. Shouldn't you have full control over… all of this?”

Roman’s eyes narrowed and he scowled. “After today, I will. I allowed her too much free reign. It was…” He sighed and Logan was startled at how suddenly his mood shifted. It was as if the guilt on his shoulders was suddenly physical, weighing the prince down. “It was to challenge myself. If she had more… free will, then she might have proved a mightier foe. I am a presumptuous imbecile. I’ve learned my lesson, do not worry.”

It was silent for awhile longer. Eventually, Logan spoke, “you were being proactive. There’s nothing wrong with testing oneself in order to come out stronger in the end.”

They rode on. They made camp as the sun set. They woke as the sun rose. They rode on.

The mountain towering above them was intimidating but Logan was as far from frightened as possible. He had priorities and he trusted Roman. Leaving the horses tied to a nearby tree, they continued on foot. The path was treacherous but they kept an eye on each other. Roman’s anger kept his energy up and his senses were on high alert; that it had been so quiet on their entire trip was slightly unsettling and completely suspicious. Eventually, they came to the mouth of a cave. The entrance was lit with torches.

“This is it.” Roman muttered. He took his phone from one of his pockets (it was strange, seeing the device in such a medieval setting) and sent a text to Remy, letting him know their whereabouts. Logan took one of the torches and stepped closer. “Shall we?”

Roman took another torch and led the way. Logan followed close behind, keeping a tight grip on his bag. The potions were wrapped in cloth so as not to clang together noisily, but he kept them as still as possible, regardless. It grew cooler the further they ventured and Logan was glad to have worn a scarf instead of his usual necktie. Soon, the sound of bubbling liquid and wood crackling in a fire reached them. The tunnel opened into a wide cavern. In the very center sat a cauldron. Shelves stood against the walls, some hosting books, the others filled with bottled ingredients. A figure stood over a desk with their back turned to Roman and Logan.

“What are you doing here?!” Roman shouted and Logan startled at the volume.

They dropped the papers they’d been shuffling through and spun to face the pair.

“Deceit?” Logan asked in disbelief.

“I couldn’t ask the same of you,” Deceit snapped, gaze darting nervously around the space.

“It’s my Fantasy Realm!” Roman retorted, tossing his torch away and storming towards Deceit. Logan stood still, thoroughly confused. “How’d you even get in here!” He was pulling a dagger from his belt and Logan decided then that maybe Roman’s fury was misplaced.

“Roman!” He called, stepping carefully further into the lair. “He’s not our enemy.”

Deceit seemed to be holding it together but the smirk he sent towards Logan was not earning him any favors. “On my side, Logan? That’s not surprising at all.”

Roman came to a staggering halt, just an arms reach from Deceit. His grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon. “Have you seen the Dragon-Witch?”

“That delightful creature?” Deceit grinned but Logan saw no joy behind it. “She left only minutes ago. You just missed her.”

Roman released a frustrated cry and flung the dagger he’d been holding so tightly into a shelf. The book it imbedded itself into fell to the ground. “Would you stop talking like… like that! I… We need to help Virgil! So for once in your damn life, just give us an honest answer!”

Logan gestured impatiently in Deceit’s direction. “I suggest you listen to him.”

“She’s been out for half an hour,” Deceit responded after a moment. He bent to pick the notes up. “And I know why you’re here. It’s…” He hesitated, shuffling through the pages. “It’s what I’m here for as well.”

Roman growled, fed up by now with Deceit’s manner of speaking. He instead took to exploring the cavern, tearing through the shelves, looking for a solution. Any solution. Logan approached Deceit and looked over what remained still on the wooden surface. “Have you found anything helpful?” He asked, willing to accept what ever assistance they could get at this point.

“No,” Deceit told him softly. “There was a handheld mirror here but the moment I got near it, it disappeared.”

“And where was the last place you saw the object in question?” Logan asked, grouping more papers together, as if he would find the mirror underneath them.

“I already told you, Lo–,” Deceit paused, finally getting a good look at Logan. He smirked, “er, Detective Holmes.”

“What—” Logan began to ask before Deceit pointed to his scarf. It was the same one he used when dressing up as Sherlock Holmes. Logan frowned at him. “Very funny.”

“It was here.” He motioned to the table. “I don’t know if it just went invisible or if she could see me through it and teleported it to herself before I could take it.”

“… Do you mean to say, she might know that you’re here?” Logan asked slowly, turning on the spot to face the entrance of the lair.

“I suppose,” Deceit said without care, right up until Logan tugged on the end of his capelet. Deceit pivoted as well.

“Well, well, well,” the Dragon-Witch purred, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“You!” Roman bellowed. He yanked another dagger from his belt and flung it at her without hesitation. A wave of her hand had the projectile tossed away but Roman was already running towards her, sword drawn. She conjured a staff from thin air and parried Roman’s attack as he swung at her. “What have you done to Virgil!”

Logan dropped his torch and rifled through his satchel. Handing the spell book to Deceit, he sorted through the potions, trying to read their labels in the low light. “See if you can find anything useful in there, won’t you?” Logan requested. Deceit muttered something about what good it would do if he couldn’t cast magic but did as asked. The clanging of metal on metal rang throughout the cavern as Roman and the Dragon-Witch traded blows.

“How is the little storm cloud doing?” The Dragon-Witch queried sweetly. “I do hope he’s feeling alright. He hasn’t completed his end of our bargain yet.”

“And he never will!” Roman spat, “not so long as I am breathing!” Taking the last small knife from on his person, Roman aimed it for the Dragon-Witch’s side. She couldn’t block all of his attacks and the blade sunk into her skin. Roman twisted it as she gasped, faltering in her defenses. Roman pushed harder against her staff.

Quite suddenly, Logan appeared. Grabbing a fistful of the Dragon-Witch’s hair, he tugged her head back and, with her mouth open in agony and surprise, forced a potion down her throat. He backed away just as quickly, pulling Roman along with him as he did. When Roman began to protest, Logan held the bottle up for Roman to see. It was labeled Weakening. Sure enough, the Dragon-Witch fell to her knees. Holding her side as she gasped, a laugh trickled from her lips. “Aren’t you a brave little thing,” she sneered at Logan.

“How’s this?” Deceit asked, shoving the spell book in Roman’s face. Roman elbowed Deceit in surprise and the trait backed away, grumbling. The title on the page was in bold lettering: Teller of Truths.

“How’d someone like you find something like this,” Roman snarked.

“Roman.” Logan said, in his best scolding Patton tone.

“Apologies,” Roman amended, though he sounded like he only half meant it. He wasted no time in chanting the spell. Logan made yet another note to ask Roman what language it was in and when he had learned it. Sparks gathered at his fingertips before he held his hand out towards the Dragon-Witch.

“What was the deal you made with Virgil?” His voice echoed throughout the lair. Logan watched as the Dragon-Witch struggled to keep her mouth clamped shut, to resist answering the question. Eventually, the magic took hold, and though she spoke haltingly, she spoke true.

“To break your curse, his own would drain him of energy until every last drop of it was mine.” She hissed, narrowing her eyes. “He’d have been volatile because of it, negatively impacting your host, so that I could easier take over.”

Logan wondered how much of that Virgil had actually agreed to and how much of it had been fine print.

“Is there a way to lift his curse without creating another?”

“No.” A layer of tension fell over the Sides.

“Do you have anything in here that can do it?”

“…” It looked like she was going to bite her own tongue off.

“Do you. Have anything. In here. That can do it?”

“Yes.”

For the next ten minutes, Logan and Deceit brought various books and ingredients and potions over while Roman asked if any of them were what would break the curse. Eventually, Deceit returned, carrying a bottle with a viscous, blue liquid inside. The label on it was of a padlock.

Still bleeding from her side and growing weary from the effects of magic, the Dragon-Witch lowered her head when she saw it in Deceit’s hands.

“Will this lift Virgil’s curse?” Roman demanded.

“Yes.”

Roman’s eyes flashed red as he suddenly let the spell drop. He slammed the book shut. The Dragon-Witch tipped over, falling to her uninjured side. Her eyelids fluttered. “This won’t be the last time, my prince,” she promised, smiling sickeningly up at him.

“I know,” he told her, resigned. Gesturing for Logan and Deceit to leave before him, Roman followed out after them, walking out backwards and keeping his eyes on the Dragon-Witch until she was no longer visible. He ran the rest of the way out to find Logan preparing for the trip back down the path. Deceit stood awkwardly to the side, potion still held tight in his grasp.

“Forget the horses,” Roman said, waving a hand. Though they were all the way at the bottom of the mountain and not currently visible, Logan could only assume Roman had sent them back to their stables. “Put that,” he pointed to the antidote, “in your bag.” Logan carefully took it from Deceit, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second.

“Until next time, then,” Deceit began before Roman was taking one of his hands in his own.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Roman snapped, though there was no heat behind it. He took Logan’s hand in his other. “Hold tight.”

#sanders sides fan fiction #sanderssidespromptsummer #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #dani writes

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quranreadalong · 7 years ago

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#94, Surah 16

THE QURAN READ-ALONG: DAY 94

Allah would like to share a metaphor with us in 16:75-76.

Allah coineth a similitude: (on the one hand) a (mere) chattel slave, who hath control of nothing, and (on the other hand) one on whom we have bestowed a fair provision from Us, and he spendeth thereof secretly and openly. Are they equal?

And Allah coineth a similitude: Two men, one of them dumb, having control of nothing, and he is a burden on his owner; whithersoever he directeth him to go, he bringeth no good. Is he equal with one who enjoineth justice and followeth a straight path (of conduct)?

Is a poor lowly slave equal to a rich guy who spends lots of money? Is an intellectually challenged guy unable to accomplish basic tasks equal to an upstanding moral citizen? “Yes,” you say, “all people are equal.” But nay! Lo, Allah beith ableist! Tbh, I’m sure somebody’s gonna roll their eyes at me labeling those two bad, but given that Allah is using slaves and disabled people as the Goofuses in a Goofus and Gallant-type parable related to believers and disbelievers, I think it’s pretty shitty, personally! It’s not like kill-disbelievers bad, it’s just petty.

Anyway, Allah is god etc and The Doom is coming so beware etc. Allah created humans so they would give him thanks. Also Allah... makes birds levitate or something?

Have they not seen the birds obedient in mid-air? None holdeth them save Allah. Lo! herein, verily, are portents for a people who believe.

Well... the aerodynamics of bird flight was not fully understood at the time. Let’s cut Mohammed some slack here.

Scientific misunderstandings aside, that part is neutral. The next ayat go on to list things that Allah has given humanity for shelter: houses, animal hides, mountain dwellings, etc.

Then we move onto another section involving Allah complaining about disbelievers. He has sent Mohammed to be a warner, but people continue to be ungrateful assholes and deny Allah’s favor anyway. Still neutral, but starting to push it a bit...

Ah, here we go, this is exactly what I was expecting. A long-ass rant about the disbelievers. 16:84-88:

And (bethink you of) the day when we raise up of every nation a witness, then there is no leave for disbelievers, nor are they allowed to make amends. And when those who did wrong behold the doom, it will not be made light for them, nor will they be reprieved. And when those who ascribed partners to Allah behold those partners of theirs, they will say: Our Lord! these are our partners unto whom we used to cry instead of Thee. But they will fling to them the saying: Lo! ye verily are liars! And they proffer unto Allah submission on that day, and all that they used to invent hath failed them. For those who disbelieve and debar (men) from the way of Allah, We add doom to doom because they wrought corruption

Right... let’s recap. On the Day of Judgement the disbelievers are gonna be in for a bad time. They can’t get out of it by repenting at the last second and their punishment will be painful. They’ll see their fake gods (who seem to be angels or jinn or something this time, not dead people like we saw recently), who will say “WELP y’all fucked”. And they will indeed be fucked, with doom added to doom for them. It’s Hell Plus.

The next ayah says that Mohammed will serve as a witness against his contemporary polytheists on that day. All bad, and a kuffar hell counter (1) hit.

Interestingly, we have a reverse of the usual good-bad pattern here, with the terribleness above followed by a short good ayah: Allah “enjoineth justice and kindness”, giving to family members, and forbids lewdness. He instructs people to not break pledges like “her who unravelleth the thread, after she hath made it strong”. (Apparently that’s just an Arab idiom.) Muslims must not break their covenants with Allah; 16:94 instructs people not to make “your oaths a deceit between you” or else you will go to hell, which I will put down as harsh-but-good I guess. (Ibn Kathir says that this is because “if a disbeliever were to find that after having agreed to a covenant, then the believer betrayed him, then the believer will have hindered him from entering Islam”--so it’s not the scamming that’s the problem, it’s the part where someone won’t want to be Muslim if a Muslim scams them? Er... still good on its face, I suppose). Finally, Muslims who are steadfast and do right will be rewarded.

Hey, that’s genuinely pleasant, and the first fairly lengthy good section we’ve seen in a long time. Nice one, Mo! I... guess Allah changed his mind on the whole “don’t break alliances” thing in surah 9, but O WELL, it’s good for now.

(There was one ayah I left out to make it all happy. 16:93 tells us that Allah guides some people and sends others astray, which is bad predeterminism as per usual.)

We have some assorted, mostly neutral stuff to finish the day. When you recite the Quran, seek Allah’s protection from Shaytan, since he has no power over those who follow Allah’s guidance. He does, however, have power over polytheists (bad). The polytheists who think that that concept of abrogation is stupid are big dumb meanies. The Quran is definitely from Allah and definitely not stories taken from some foreigner’s tales. Hmm. What’s this about? No one actually knows. Different sources refer to different people. Al-Wahidi has just one of the many possibilities:

We owned two Christian youths from the people of ‘Ayn Tamr, one called Yasar and the other Jabr. Their trade was making swords but they also could read the Scriptures in their own tongue. The Messenger of Allah, Allah bless him and give him peace, used to pass by them and listen to their reading.

Two Iraqi Christian, Aramaic-speaking slaves apparently lived in Mecca and worked as blacksmiths. Some people in Mecca thought that Mohammed got his stories from them (or from whoever the ayah is about, rather). Mohammed’s response to these accusations was that his Quran is in perfect (well, “perfect”) Arabic, and this could not be the case if he were simply copying the words of someone whose first language was Aramaic.

It’s unclear who Mohammed actually got his stories from btw. We know very little about his pre-prophethood life, where he traveled, or who he talked to. It seems likely he heard these stories from multiple people while traveling as part of a caravan--some are clearly pulled from Jewish traditions (like the stuff pulled directly from the Talmudic literature) and others are clearly from Christian apocryphal texts (like the Infancy Gospel stories). He almost certainly listened in on the preaching of Arab Christians and Jews and that’s where the Quran’s stories come from. But in any case, that’s it for today. It was a real mixed bag this section.

NEXT TIME: We finish the surah!

The Quran Read-Along: Day 94

Ayat: 29

Good: 7 (16:90-92, 16:94-97)

Neutral: 12 (16:77-83, 16:98-99, 16:101-03)

Bad: 10 (16:75-76, 16:84-89, 16:93, 16:100)

Kuffar hell counter: 1 (16:84-88)

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

#quranreadalong #surah 16 #an nahl

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selenelavellan · 8 years ago

Text

Finding a Family

Concert AU

Dirthamen, Deceit, Fear, Thulin, and Kel belong to @feynites

Des and Selene’s POV for This Fill

TW for mentions of past drug abuse, blood, and very brief violence

Des has never been easily rattled. He couldn't be, of course. There were few constants in his life, growing up. Going from Aravel to Aravel, being sent from Clan Ralaferin to Clan Lavellan, leaving his first home with Selene and then leaving again when the Carta came after them.

Des knows most things are temporary. That it's often not worth putting a lot of stock in things like The Future™, because it's not guaranteed. Just enjoy the present to the fullest, because it's all you've got.

But it's also possible he wasn't entirely lying, when he mentioned wanting children.

He just didn't necessarily want any of his own.

He's seen images of Aunts and Uncles who babysit other peoples kids, spoil them rotten, get loved to pieces, and then send them back home to let the parents deal with the fallout from the sugar and constant stimulation. Then the kids come screaming back all excited and happy the next week and give hugs and he gets to be their favorite family member.

That's what he wants.

What Alaris is asking for though...That's...That's full on parenting. Discipline, and rules, and cleaning up diapers and setting boundaries and enforcing them. He'd be responsible for this poor kids life.

How could anyone think he's capable of something like that?

Could he be capable of something like that?

He reads the letter over, and over, and over. A slightly older clan member who left shortly after he and Selene did. Had a kid recently, but ended up succumbing to demonic possession in the end. Des wonders if maybe he should have paid more attention to Thulin.

Alaris points out a few of the similarities between the situation and his own in the letter, as though Des might not have seen them staring him in the face if he hadn't. As though he might've forgotten, somehow.

Des has tried forgetting those pieces of himself.

Lyrium's the only thing that's come close to helping, though. And no matter how much his body is crying out for some right now, for the clarity, for the rush, for the power...He can't. Not here.

Not now.

Alaris has a point, though. Raising Thulins daughter with the people who slaughtered her mother will only lead to resentment.

Des would know.

No matter how many times Ralaferins keeper tried to comfort him, no matter how gently they would brush through his hair, or assist him with his magic, all he could see on their hands was blood. His mothers blood. The blood of so many other mages they had failed, and struck down for it.

It made hunting easier, at least. Blood on his own hands was just another way to try to fit in.

Dirthamen knocks on his door for dinner, but the thought of eating now just makes his stomach turn.

“I'm busy, thanks. I'll eat later,” he calls through the door, still pacing back and forth in his bedroom.

He catches sight of himself in the vanity, and pauses.

Will he still be allowed to live here if he brings back a kid?

Will he be kicked out of their lives? Finally more trouble than he's worth now that there's a kid around?

...No, probably not. Dirthamen would adjust, most easily he thinks. Deceit could be a wild card, depending on who they feel like that day, but he's pretty sure they mentioned wanting a kid one day. Fear won't like the surprise, but they're softer than they'll admit. And Fear more than anyone would understand the risks to kicking a child out on the streets with an ex-junkie.

Sorry.

'Mage in Recovery', not ex-junkie.

Des lets out a heavy breath, sits down at the vanity, and begins to sort through his new nail polishes as a distraction.

What if he relapses? Kids shouldn't be around that sort of thing.

Deceit knocks on the door, asks if he wants anything. Unsure of how to answer, Des just responds that he's still busy, and he'll be out later. His phone buzzes not long after that with a text from Fear.

Another hour passes, and Des's nails have fully dried. His favorite magenta with a bold gold line slanting horizontally over his index fingers.

Selenes voice carries through the door.

Des stands to let her in; Selene always knows what to do. She'll understand.

“What's going on?” She asks as he closes the door behind her. “Dirthamen says you've been hiding in here for a while now.”

“Alaris sent me a letter,” Des admits. “I'm not sure what to do about it.”

Selenes eyebrows rise slightly in surprise at his indecision. “What...did the letter say?”

Des hesitantly hands her the letter, and starts rearranging his new nail colors into his larger collection and their respective box as he waits for her response.

“...holy shit,” she finally whispers, plopping down on the edge of his bed.

“I know.”

“What're you gonna do?”

“I don't know. I was hoping you'd have an opinion.”

Selene winces “This...this really isn't the kind of thing someone else can decide for you, Des.”

“I know! But this isn't like 'gee should I get that piece of lingerie in Dirthamens size or in Deceits' this is 'what am I going to do with the next eighteen plus years of my freaking life?'!” Des groans and reclines on his bed, feet up on his pillows as he settles his head into Selenes lap. “What would you do?”

Selenes fingers stroke slowly through the strands of his hair. Soothing, and familiar, and in a way that makes him ache for a bottle of homemade mead in his hands while his mind recalls the smell of embrium on her fingertips.

“I...don't think I'd make a very good parent,” she admits. “But I think you would, if you wanted to. You throw yourself into things fully, and without reservation. I think that's a trait that would only aid you, if you decide to pursue this.”

Des opens his eyes, just to half-lidded as he glances up at her. “Would you leave if I chose to raise the child?”

Selene sighs, gaze dropping from his walls to meet his own. “Probably not. I don't think there's much you could do at this point to get rid of me.”

“...What about the others?”

Selenes face drops a bit, at that. “I'm not sure,” she admits. “They love you, so, so much. That's very clear. They wouldn't kick you out I don't think. I've never seen them around kids before though, so...I don't really know, past that.”

“We're really bad at this decision making thing,” Des muses “It's a miracle anything gets done.”

“It's a long term commitment. It's alright to not have our minds immediately made up, I think.”

Des smiles at that, thankful for the reassurance that his uncertainty for what he wants isn't a bad sign. His eyes slide closed again as Selene continues running her fingers through his hair.

His mind wanders, imagining what it might be like to raise a child here.

Fear picked a home near a good school district, and they still have a few spare rooms so one could be converted to a nursery without too much trouble. And she can always sleep in here until that's done.

Des could quit his job and stay home with her and Selene. Teach her how to read and walk and talk.

Would she want to stay in touch with her roots? Will he and Selene have to teach her the elvhen they know? Will she want to go back to visit the clan? He wouldn't like that, but he wouldn't want to cut her off from them either, if she feels particularly drawn to the Dalish. He'd have to go, then. Selene can't go alone, not after the last time.

Selene shifts beneath him when someone knocks on the door, and goes to greet whoever is on the other side. There's a muffled conversation, and when she turns around it's with a bowl of ice cream and more cherries than is usually allowed, in a bowl that he was once assured by Selene was much too important to eat out of regularly.

He raises an eyebrow at it, but takes it without complaint.

He still feels pleasantly decadent eating out of it, and finishes quickly.

Selene leaves to take the dirty dishes to be washed, and he goes to finish sorting through his colors.

When she returns, he pats the space in front of him on the floor. She relents, and holds out one hand while he begins to paint her nails a deep, saturated purple and they continue discussing options and different paths to take. The conversation continues until long past her nails are dry and she's starting to doze off a bit.

Des feels a little jittery still, but crawls beneath the covers anyways, safe in her arms as she holds him, her chest to his back and their legs tangled together.

He manages to get a few short bursts of sleep, but overall he finds himself just too concerned about the situation at hand to leave it alone.

Finally fed up with his own indecision, he turns, and gently shakes her awake.

Selene grumbles, one eye slowly opening, red and exhausted. He helps her sit up anyways while she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“We have to go get her,” he announces.

Selene blinks slowly as his words wash over her “Ok,” she agrees with a yawn. “We'll tell the others at breakfast, and-”

“No, I mean we have to go get her now.”

Selene hesitates, turning on the screen of her phone to check the time. She winces as the light floods the room and lets out a heavy sigh “Des, it's 4 in the morning...”

“Great, we can be at the airport by 6! I'll order the tickets, go get your bag.”

“I could have to pack,” she grumbles back.

Des scoffs “You expect me to believe you don't have a getaway bag in the back of your closet?”

Selene relents at that, and returns in a few moments wearing a change of clothes and a face that she clearly splashed cold water on as Des prints out their confirmation.

Her duffle is slung over her shoulder, and he grins.

“I'll get us an Uber.”

–

They're at the airport, Des trading in their confirmation for tickets while Selene silently praises the caffeine gods for the drink in her hands and stomach and realizes they forgot to leave a note.

She shoots Dirthamen a quick text, hoping to contain any panic that might happen when they wake and realize that she and Des have left suddenly and without warning. For good measure, she reminds Des to text his manager that he won't be in to work today as well.

And then it's time to board, and Selene swallows the too hot coffee as quickly as she can, following Des through the terminal and into their seats.

Des hands her a piece of gum for take off, and lets out a heavy breath once they're safely up in the sky, his fingers twining through her own.

“We're really doing this...” he mutters.

She squeezes his hand in what she hopes is a reassuring manner. “It'll be fine. You're going to be a great dad. Besides, this is hardly the craziest thing you've ever done. You slayed a dragon, after all,” she jokes.

Des grins back, his usual confidence slowly returning “That's true. This is one lucky kid; how many can say they're being raised by an actual dragon slayer who lived to tell the tale? And I guess her mom'll be pretty cool too.”

Selene smiles, relaxing back into the seat as she tries not to think about her sudden upcoming motherhood.

She could really have used the nine months to prep, she thinks.

–

When they land, Selene pulls Des aside.

“I...brought our robes,” she admits.

“Seriously?”

“Well, we were going back to the clan, and when else were we gonna wear them, right?”

Des agrees, and takes his old mage robes and armor pieces from Selene before they commandeer one of the family bathrooms to change in.

“You know, while we're here...” he purrs, fingers trailing up her bared sides.

“We are not walking into camp smelling like sex,” she says decisively.

Des lets out a put upon sigh but doesn't push it any farther as he helps her secure her ties and she helps him fasten his own in turn. It's strange, seeing her in the emerald greens and golds again. They still bring out her eyes in a way that makes her look more like magic than mage, and he can't resist the urge to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes and press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, letting himself feel just a bit more vulnerable than he usually cares to as her forehead knocks gently against his own, and she ties off the leather belt on his waist.

She just gives him a soft hum in return, and he stares for a moment at his reflection in the mirror. His own robes still a deep reddish purple with black trim to help him remain hidden from sight while hunting. His nails are in stark contrast, a juxtaposition of the pieces of himself he's carved in his new life to his old one in a way that makes him feel delightfully rebellious.

“Ready?” Selene asks, finally settling on leaving her own hair loose in what he knows is her own form of rebellion and tucking her old clothes back into her bag.

“Ready.” he announces, as they head out of the airport, and towards the old paths that lead back to Clan Lavellan.

–

The trip is shorter than he remembers. Longer legs, maybe. Or just not having to carry goods with them, or worry about keeping pace with anyone else. It’s probably the rental car that makes the biggest difference, up until they have to leave it in a parking lot and make the rest of their way on foot.

Either way, he's still surprised to see the clearing when it reveals itself ahead of them.

Selene gives his hand one last squeeze and steps into camp first.

He almost doesn't get her out of the way in time, but the familiar sound of a taut bowstring being released is all too familiar.

The arrow sticks into her arm, raised in surprise at his grip on her shoulder, and she yells out in pain. Better her arm than the head it was aiming for, though.

It doesn't really make him any less angry.

“Who the fuck-” he screams, all heads turning to face himself and Selene now, as Alaris runs out from one side of the camp, and Elrogathe steps out from the other, bow still in hand, another arrow resting but ready to be shot at a moments notice.

“I warned her,” Elrogathe says as though it a defense.

Alaris yells something in elvish Des doesn't understand the exact meaning of anymore, but he knows it's not something you want to hear from a Keepers mouth in any context.

Elrogathe, to his credit, shrinks back slightly, and doesn't loose another arrow.

Alaris apologizes, and helps Des carry Selene back into his aravel while the rest of the clan whispers around them.

Des pretends not to hear words like 'cursed' and 'demons' being tossed around.

They settle her into a chair, and Des apologizes before roughly yanking out the arrow. Selene hisses and bites down on a piece of leather pressed between her teeth as she presses the wet gauze from Alaris onto the wound with enough pressure to hopefully slow the bleeding.

“I'm sorry,” Alaris sighs, handing Selene more gauze to help her patch herself up as best she can manage. “I didn't know he'd- Mythals grace, what do I do when my healer is the one trying to kill people.”

“It's fine,” she lies. “I should've been prepared for it. But this isn't why we came, so let's just-”

“Right, right.” Alaris agrees, leaning down and lifting a small, dark, round child from a pile of cushions next to him. She is swaddled in a soft cream blanket and onesie, and sleeping as Alaris hands her over to Des. “This is Thulins daughter. We found her when Thulin...” he trails off, and Selene and Des just nod in understanding, having already read the letter.

Possession is often not a pretty incident to deal with.

Selene moves to look at the young girl over Des's shoulder. Des is staring down at her in wonder, awkwardly adjusting his arms as though afraid that she might decide to suddenly fly out of them. The shifting wakes her though, face scrunching before her eyes blink open, and she stares up at the two of them.

A moment of silence passes, before Des quietly greets her with “Hello. Would you like to come home with us?”

The child, to her credit, doesn't start to cry. Instead, she reaches up for a bit of Des's hair that had fallen over his shoulder.

And pulls.

Selene moves in, carefully unwrapping the tiny fist with the hand on her still-good arm as quickly as she can manage. Her fist subsequently ends up around Selenes index finger, looking curiously at her still purple nails.

“You're a strong da'len aren't you,” Selene smiles down at her. “You're going to get into everything, I can tell.”

“A little troublemaker,” Des grins.

“Just like her parents,” Selene laughs. It sends the little girl into a laughing fit too, shaking Selenes finger in her grip without any real control. Once she's calmed a bit, Selene carefully pulls her finger back, and looks over at Des.

Des looks back at her, and hands the baby back to Alaris as he whips out his cellphone. The flash from his camera goes off, and he sends a quick text to Dirthamen along with the picture.

His phone rings again after a few minutes of cooing and playing with the baby while Alaris prepares a travel bag for and a bottle for them.

Selene checks it, and they share a slight breath of relief as she sends off the next series of texts to the others, and hopes they aren't causing too much trouble for them already.

She laughs when they tell her they're in a nearby hotel.

“They followed us,” she announces, and Des shakes his head.

“We should have known,” he shrugs. “It'll make things easier at least.”

“The others are here?” Alaris says with the smallest note of panic in his voice. For all he doesn't mind Selene and Des returning, he is still uncomfortable with total strangers wandering in and endangering his clan.

“They're near the airport,” Selene assures him. “They know not to come here, here.”

He relaxes a bit at that, and helps sling the pack of supplies over Selenes good side. He notes with concern that she is still bleeding through the gauze on her arm, but she assures him she'll look at it properly once she's able to do so safely. Des carries the baby, carefully feeding her the bottle as Alaris escorts the pair out of camp, sending a warning glare towards Elrogethe who is watching the procession from in front of his own aravel with a clear line of tension in his shoulders.

Keeper Alaris thanks them as they reach the edge of his land, and they promise to care for the baby and to keep him updated if anything happens.

And then it is just the two of them, traveling together through the trails with a baby, and a hope that no one will be lost when they finally arrive at the hotel.

#Concert AU #Selene lavellan #Des

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