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7-wonders · 4 years

Text

Hardships Unnumbered

Summary: The quest to save Julia begins, but not everything is as it seems in this mystical land.

Word Count: 1969

A/N: Hi friends! This is the second chapter of my Labyrinth King!Michael AU fic, "It's Only Forever." I'll link the first chapter down below. I hope that you enjoy and, as always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

(also there's a couple of little easter eggs/one big one and I'm really excited to see who figures them out)

Chapter One

Though you put your hands out in front of you to brace yourself, it doesn’t help you to discern which way is up and which way is down until you finally stop rolling. With a groan, you shove yourself up to your feet. Your palms are scraped and slightly bleeding, your jeans are torn at the knees, and leaves and twigs now adorn your hair. All in all, this is not the way you had hoped to start this mission to get Julia back.

Now that you’re already at the bottom of the hill, it’s easier to decide how to start this jaunt through the Labyrinth. After all, you certainly can’t go back up, and the solid ground beneath your feet only leads one way. The shining spires of Michael's castle at the center of the maze, closer than you had thought, rise high above you and act as a compass. All factors considered, you can definitely run this in a couple of hours. Then, once you’re both safely out of here, your first order of business is to call the cops.

Your confidence begins to fade the longer that you walk along with the wall separating you from the inside of the maze. There’s no door, or arch, or opening anywhere to be seen. Turning around, you look back to see if you’ve missed the entrance. Instead of finding one, movement catches your eye. A man, tall and willowy, cries out victoriously at something trapped under his foot. He seems to be your best bet, and you decide to approach him.

“Excuse me?” you say.

The man startles, obviously not expecting to see anybody here. “Oh!” he cries in surprise, looking at you as if you’re the first person to ever cross his path. His hair is bleached to look almost white, and he has a pair of oddly-shaped sunglasses with purple lenses covering his eyes. The checkered jumpsuit, complete with ruffles on the shoulders, both does and doesn’t go with the sunglasses. You’re not quite sure why the people that live here dress so funny, but it’s making you feel underdressed.

“Which way do I go to get into the Labyrinth?”

“Now, why would I tell you that?”

“Because you must have come from there,” you pause, looking down at the man’s foot when you hear a squeaking, “oh! Is that a fairy?”

“Mhm.” Your childlike wonder is abruptly swept out from under you when he kicks the small, blue creature into the forest.

“Why did you do that? That wasn’t very nice!”

“Go ahead and pick one up,” the man says, “you’ll see how nice they are when you’re missing a finger.” As if to prove his point, a fairy flies up to you and hisses in your face, showing off two rows of razor sharp teeth. “What is it that you wanted, again?”

You huff. “To know which way to go to get into the Labyrinth.”

“Did you try asking it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” You roll your eyes in disbelief before mocking him. “‘Labyrinth, please let me in!’ Is that what I should say?”

He doesn’t have to respond, for a sudden rumbling has you turning around. To your shock, there’s suddenly an open space in the wall that hadn’t been there just a second ago.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m Gallant.” You want to tell him that you weren’t guessing his name, you don’t even want to know his name, but he continues. “Who are you?”

“(Y/N).”

“Ah, that’s right.” So this is one of Michael’s ‘subjects?’ After all, if your dreams have been right (and you’re still half-convinced this is just the elaborate scheme of some unhinged weirdo and not magic, despite what you just saw), then that means that Michael is also the ruler of the Underworld. With that logic, Gallant must be some sort of a demon. If that’s the case, you certainly don’t want anything to do with him.

“Well,” you say awkwardly, “I’m going to go now. Running on limited time, and all that.”

“You’re just going to go in there? Alone?”

“Yep.”

“But--but the Labyrinth leads to the Labyrinth King!”

“That’s kind of the whole reason why I’m here.”

“You’re going to get hurt in there.” Gallant gasps. “You could even die in there!”

You set your shoulders, walking to the hole in the wall and glancing back. “I won’t, but thanks for the concern.”

“Wait!” Even if you did want to listen to what he had to say, you couldn’t, for the wall closes back up on itself the moment you step through it. Mildly jarred though you may be, there’s not much you can do to change this, so you turn around and try to figure out whether to go right or left. Both directions look exactly the same, so with the flip of a mental coin, you go right.

After both walking and jogging for what must have been over a mile, you’re no closer to any sort of landmark that would tell you where you are or how close you are to the castle. There haven’t even been any corners to turn past, just one long, unending aisle. You’re starting to feel a little claustrophobic as you finally come to a stop, needing to take a break for a minute. Sinking down against the wall into a sitting position, you find yourself looking back and forth down the path. Both directions look exactly the same, for as far as you can see. You groan dejectedly and put your head in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of pity before getting up and trying again.

“Hey there!”

You jump at the sudden Southern-sounding voice. “Who’s there?”

“Me, of course!”

Looking around, you see a small door just to your left, and a small woman, probably less than a foot tall, standing next to you. Her curly blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, showing off her pointy ears. “And you’re...talking to me?”

“There’s nobody else around, is there?” The woman glances inside the open door. “‘Cept the missus, of course.”

Another woman, also blonde, pokes her head outside and smiles up at you. “Hello!”

“Why don’t ya come inside for a while? ‘Delia makes a killer gumbo.”

“Uh...no thanks. I’m just taking a break for a moment before I find a way to the castle.”

The woman’s face turns severe, and she holds her shawl tighter around herself. “You must be awfully brave if you’re so determined to go up there.”

Brave? You wouldn’t call yourself brave. Stupid, maybe, for bowing to the whims of the guy who’s kidnapped your charge, but not brave.

“But anyways, just go through the wall across from us and you’ll be on your way.”

You look in front of you to see the solid wall. “Through there?”

She nods.

Logic is telling you that this is obviously false, but, considering the same thing happened with Gallant, it can’t hurt to try. Standing up, you cautiously put your hand up to the wall, expecting to meet, well, a wall. Instead, you almost fall through a doorway that leads to another passage in the Labyrinth. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You will be if you keep going.”

You choose to ignore this, at this point knowing that everybody who lives here is terrified of their ruler. “Thanks for the help.”

The elf stares at your back as you walk through the new corridor, figure becoming smaller and smaller. “If she would have stuck around, I would have been able to get her on the right track back home, not towards that horrible man.”

From inside the house, a timer beeps. “Misty, supper’s ready!”

///

In the stone chamber of the King of the Underworld’s throne room, a three year old girl is currently winning a staring contest against a demon. Michael watches as the demon’s eyes begin to water (with blood, of course), before he eventually gives in and blinks. The little girl cheers before looking at Michael.

“My daddy’s gonna kick your butt, you know. He saved mama from aliens once.”

“Silence, child,” Michael commands, but he can’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It’s difficult to hide his amusement when this child is the most lively thing to grace his castle since...well, he can’t quite remember since when.

Being surrounded by demons of all shapes and sizes, with a variety of horns or extra eyes or tails, gets old after a while. Demons, quite frankly, are a bore. All they want to do is scare people and cause mayhem, yet continue to use the same methods that have been in place for thousands of years. If Michael’s being honest with himself, everything’s a bore to him here. In the early years, this job had been quite fun. Lots of naive humans to terrify and endless souls to torture.

Michael himself had been prone to naivety, then. It was easy to deal with the buffoons that called themselves demons when it seemed that, soon enough, he would find somebody to share this burden with him. After all, it was the guy upstairs who believed that emotions were for the humans. Michael, however, found it to be one of the most carnal pleasures. To love, and to be loved, seemed like the greatest sin. As the years passed, and the whole routine of ruling the Underworld became stale, Michael began to embrace the feelings of dejection, while simultaneously dreading the thought of an eternity alone.

That’s why, no matter the outcome of tonight, Michael would at least have something to add a little color to his black-and-white world. At the very least, the child would provide much-needed entertainment in the Underworld. She seems quite creative, which could potentially lend itself to some new and innovative torture methods. But, that would almost be a non-starter, considering the whole reason that she’s here, the whole reason Michael implemented this plan in the first place, is to get to you.

You, who managed to somehow win over demons disguised as beggars that loitered outside of the bookstore you worked for. You, who was constantly coming up with your own ideas for stories, creating and erasing entire worlds within your mind (a power far more powerful than any regular magic, Michael believes). You, who had somehow managed to vex and enchant him, without ever having spoken a word to him. He had seen you on one of his visits up Above, talking to a beggar demon as if they were your equal, offering food and shelter to their grotesque form. From then on, he knew that he had to have you, and from that, a plan was born. The Labyrinth, which he had subtly placed in every single one of your dreams for months now, was impossible to run through. You would inevitably lose. And when that happens, he’s prepared to accept your frantic offer where you exchange yourself for the child. He is, after all, a benevolent ruler.

“Mr. Michael?” Julia questions, breaking Michael out of his pondering.

Michael hums, deciding that he won’t lecture her on the importance of referring to rulers by their titles. “Yes, little one?”

“Do you have juice here? ‘M thirsty.”

“Abaddon!” Michael calls, the demon appearing in a puff of smoke. “Get our guest some refreshments.”

The demon turns to do Michael’s bidding, shocked when Julia grabs their clawed hand and skips along with them. “I really like your spiky horns,” she says.

Michael looks up at the clock on the wall, noting that only nine hours remain for you to reach the center of the Labyrinth and rescue the child. Perfect. He’s not one to get too cocky (yes he is), but these are odds he’s willing to take.

Tag List (send me a message if you want to be on this!): @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @ajokeformur-ray @babyloutattoo89 @bloodcoatedeclipse @threeminutesoflife @annikathebananana @wth-trippy @thatonehumanbeing05 @dumybitch

#labyrinth au #labyrinth imagine #labyrinth fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagine #ahs #ahs imagine #duncan shepherd

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sockablock · 4 years

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the worries of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even more socially awkward than Caleb himself.

(start) - (next)

Chapter 1: Likewise, Mr. Thelyss

“It sounds suspicious,” Beauregard said. “There’s no way. He’s going to steal your organs.”

“I doubt—”

“Read my lips: no way.” She folded up a piece of paper and tossed it across the table. “Seriously, at a price like that? There’s gotta be a catch. Or…or there’s some kind of crime.”

Caleb Widogast tried to look reassuring. He largely failed, but this was normal.

“Ach,” he said, “is it so hard to believe that just maybe, my luck is turning around?”

She slowly broke apart a lemon muffin.

“Yes.”

She offered him half, which he glumly accepted.

The two of them were seated together at a table in the Wayfarer’s Cove, a small diner tucked away on the edge of the piers of Nicodranas. The windows here, though a bit stained, overlooked the Restless Wharf at noon, providing a clear view of tangled docks, bobbing ships, waves rushing up the harbor and sailors, merchants, and deckhands hard at work. Flocks of seagulls and the occasional migratory albatross swooped in overhead, their cries swelling up along the wordless stream of noise.

Back in the faded pleather seats of their diner, Caleb finished his muffin and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“What other choice do I have, Beauregard? I am in no rush to return to the Empire—”

“Hear, hear—”

“—but I have nowhere to live if I remain here. This city is expensive. More expensive than I anticipated.”

Beau picked up her mug of coffee. “You could stay with Fjord and Caduceus,” she said. “Or you could tell Nott that you aren’t moving out.”

“But I promised. And more than that, I offered.” He ran a hand through his hair and immediately regretted the decision. It was sticky.

“Take the offer back,” Beau shrugged. She watched him fumble with a napkin. “Gods know the place is just as much yours as it’s hers. And it’s not so small that four of you couldn’t…well. I guess four is kind of a lot—”

“And Luc is five years old,” Caleb sighed. “He will be noisy enough for six people.”

“A Library—”

“Your library?”

She gave him a stern look. “I told you, it’s still being established. You’re going to have to wait another six months.”

He smiled faintly. “It was worth a shot, no? And anyway, I doubt even a Cobalt Library would let some uncredited stranger stay the night.”

“It’s shit that you’re doing this, you know that?” She took another sip of coffee. “I mean, it’s nice, but it’s this…this sort of self-sacrificial thing that’s gonna end badly.”

“Maybe,” he said, in a tone that suggested even “maybe” was too much of an agreement. “Nevertheless, I think it is the right thing to do. Nott has spent so much time separated from her family that she truly deserves this. She was missing them quite a bit anyway, and at least this way she will not be leaving us.”

Beau’s hard expression eased just a little. “Will she be…okay with them around? You know, in her cond—”

“She says she’s made arrangements. And anyway, I feel like I am getting closer. It just…will take time. And the sooner I firm up my own living situation, the sooner I can get back to work helping hers.”

Beau studied his face, and finally relented. “Alright, well…I wish I could help.”

Caleb stared into his mug. “I do not think I can stay with Fjord and Caduceus,” he said instead. “Their apartment is…very small. And I think they are still saving up to move somewhere else.”

“Gods, I mean, if Yasha hadn’t moved in with me and Jes after, well, after y’know—”

Caleb smiled again. This time, it almost reached his eyes. “I will see about this perspective roommate,” he said firmly. “Who knows? Maybe I am getting lucky.”

— — —

“—after the tone.”

Caleb rubbed his face and set down the phone. Filling his room—though doing that wasn’t very hard—were all of his worldly possessions, packed away.

He smoothed out the flyer, a bit rumpled now from its time shoved in his pockets, and read it over.

SEEKING: TENANT FOR HOUSE

One room Available to Rent $300/Month Internet Access, On-Site Laundry

Must be Quiet, Organized, Willing to Sort Recycling

NO DOGS

At least, he mused, scanning the last line, there would be no issue with dogs. And Caleb naturally was a quiet person, very amenable to learning how recycling worked. Beauregard’s accusations from earlier this morning did flit briefly through his mind, but in the face of a rental price that low, any concern of impending doom was promptly, seamlessly, quashed.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Caleb couldn’t defend himself. A single spool of silver thread went a long way.

He glanced at the number again, and re-dialed.

— — —

“No, Verin, as much as I appreciated your help, I do not think it will be necessary anymore.”

“Is it because of just the one recommendation? Because if you let me try again—"

From behind the kitchen counter, his microwave whirring and a coffee mid-pour, a young dark elf with short-cropped hair did his very best to hide a scowl.

“Verin, your recommendation came back every night at two in the morning and never once locked the door. He also clearly did not understand how to do his chores. And he left hair in the shower.”

“Ah, but he was quiet, wasn’t he?” This was followed by the sound of something smashing on the other line.

Essek sighed. His brother was many things—a good friend, a compassionate person, a true confidant—but calm or quiet was not one of them.

“Perhaps by your standards, Verin. Certainly not mine.”

Another noise, like someone laughing, then footfalls.

“You should lower your standards, then! You’re in a foreign city surrounded by strangers, and probably every one with different customs.”

“I was under the impression that silence was a universal language.”

“I think that is love. Or, actually, Common—”

Essek rolled his eyes and glanced at the microwave, which had just finished beeping. Leftovers from last night, re-heated, a delicacy for the preoccupied scholar. He slid over to retrieve it, lowered his phone, and only then did he notice the message across his screen: CALL INCOMING.

This wasn’t a number he knew, but with a growing sense of dread he noticed that it had already tried to call him twice…

He abandoned his lunch and pressed the phone to his ear.

“—but if Undercommon exists, then what does that say about us, really—”

“Shut up, Verin! Someone’s calling!”

“It—wait, what?”

“I’m hanging up! I’ll call you later!”

“Yes, you’d better! I still haven’t asked you about the—”

Essek ended the call. He took the briefest pause to compose himself, then hit answer.

“He—”

“Hal—”

A pause.

“I am so—”

“My apolog—”

They both stopped.

Essek began counting to ten. When he hit six, the voice on the other end of the line said:

“Ah, er, hallo, my name is Caleb Widogast, I am calling in regards to your, ah, your advertisement. Am I speaking to Mr. Essek Thelyss?”

Essek sat back down. “Yes,” he said smoothly. “I am Essek. You’re interested in the apartment?”

There was the faint rustle of fabric. “Yes. I am quite interested in renting.”

There was another pause. At the count of three, Essek gave up and took the initiative. “I am happy to hear that,” he said. “Have you reviewed the fee and the conditions? Do you have any questions?”

More rustling. This time it sounded like paper. “Er…no, actually. I am happy to agree to your requirements. Er…I do, ah, have…I have a cat—but, but if that is too unwelcome—”

“No, no,” Essek waved a hand. “A cat is more than fine. There is…yes, there should be space in a corner of the living room for…cat…things. Boxes. And…bowls? Yes, so long as you are amenable to cleaning up after, er, him?”

“Him,” the voice confirmed. “Frumpkin.”

“I see, er…charming.” Different customs, Verin had said. “Well, if there are no other issues, I would be happy to begin renting to you as soon as possible. I should mention, though, that while the clauses I stated earlier are the most important to me, I would also like to negotiate a contract with you regarding other details.”

“Oh, er…of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, they mostly focus on the division of space and…promises to keep? I would like my bedroom and study to remain off-limits, but you are welcome to any common areas you would like. I do not take up much space in the fridge, so if you wish to cook, that is fine, however I also ask you not leave a mess. Smaller details of this nature.”

“That is completely understandable,” the voice said. “If I am being honest, I believe it will make establishing boundaries and navigating our living situation much more clear-cut.”

“I am delighted you think so,” Essek said, finding that he actually was. “If that is the case, then…I would be happy to have you move in as soon as possible. Mister…Mr. Widogast, was it?”

“Ja. And that would be perfect. I, er, when exactly would you be ready to have me arrive?”

Essek tapped his chin. “Well, I normally do not spend much time in the unit, to be honest. But I was home this morning cleaning up after the last tenant, so the room will be available tonight.”

“Tonight!” There was a pause, and then a shuffle. “If that is no rush, then tonight is wonderful.”

“Excellent.” With one hand he nudged the microwave open again and retrieved his lunch. “In that case, I will see you tonight. I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Widogast.”

Essek heard a chuckle. And then he realized he’d been smiling as well.

“Likewise, Mr. Thelyss. See you tonight.”

— — —

“No.”

“Aw, come on—”

“No. I mean it.”

“But why not, Caleb?”

“She does have a point, you know,” Nott called from her perch atop the car. “We don’t know anything about this guy. He could be dangerous.”

“He could be a murderer,” said Jester. She was helping Caleb load the very last of his belongings onto the trunk. One last cardboard box joined to two smaller boxes, and a trunk.

“You will scare him into evicting me if you storm his building like that,” Caleb said. “And anyway, He sounded polite on the phone. I will not be getting a better price.”

“Luring you in with rent to die for,” Jester nodded.

He elected to ignore this, and instead turned to Nott. “It is not a bad neighborhood, either. I am sure everything will be fine.”

“But…are you really sure?” she asked. “I mean…if you need more time to look around, Yeza and Luc won’t be here for two more days.”

“I know, and thank you,” he said gently, “but I doubt two more days will be necessary.”

“I feel like I’m kicking you out,” she said wretchedly. “This was your house for as long as it was mine. And you’re my…well, I shouldn’t do this to you—”

Caleb quickly shook his head. “Do not say that, please, do not. It is more important to me that you and your husband will have a place to be together. Truly together, for once, and with your son.”

“If the apothecary hadn’t burned down—”

“But it did,” he said. “And now here we are. Do not worry. Please, do not worry.”

She met his gaze. “You’ll have to visit,” she said eventually. “Every weekend. And weekdays. At least twice.”

He nodded immediately. “I will do my best. You have my promise.”

She hopped down from the roof of the car, a landing so perfect any acrobat would be proud. Three foot four of determined goblin wrapped as much of him as she could into a hug.

He crouched down and hugged her back. After a moment, Jester joined in for the spirit of things. Her charms jingled and jangled as she moved.

And eventually, when Caleb was dimly beginning to realize they were blocking the sidewalk—

“You two, I am not leaving for another hour.” His voice was muffled. He was also feeling a bit warm.

“That’s nothing,” said Jester.

“I don’t care,” said Nott. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I am just a phone call away. Barely a bus ride.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She finally pulled back, and quickly wiped at her eyes. “You hear me?”

He smiled. Quite easily. “Loud and clear, Miss the Brave. I do.”

Jester tapped the side of the car. “Beau says she doesn’t need this ‘til later tonight. We could go out for some food?” Her voice was hopeful. “There’s a really good place that I heard about that does these big milkshakes—”

Nott elbowed her. “Does it have real food too? Or just sugary drinks?”

“Oh, they have burgers, and pizza, and fries, and—”

Nott’s mouth threatened to split her face in two. This was happiness, in goblin form.

Caleb ruffled her hair. “Let’s do it. I am starving just thinking about it.”

— — —

Essek had only just rolled up his sleeves and wiped the condensation from his brow when the phone rang.

He glanced back, and his eyes lost their glow. The faint sensation of coiling wind faded from the interior of the room. About half a dozen various cleaning implements clattered to the floor.

Annoyed, he waved a hand and floated his phone over. Then he scowled.

“Can it wait? I am in the middle of something.”

“Well, if it is something more pressing than the greatest Dunamantic breakthrough of this century—”

“Yes, yes, alright,” he responded testily. “What is it?”

“I believe you will want to see this in person.” This voice was a smooth baritone, lightly accented by something airy, and old. “Besides, it is quite difficult to make progress without our resident expert—”

Part of Essek wrinkled his nose. The other part, a part that he would not readily acknowledge, nor likely even recognize, puffed out its chest.

“I…have a prior engagement tonight,” he said, but was already beginning to itch for the study. His mother once said that knowledge was a disease, and right now he could hardly disagree. “How much time will this take?”

“I believe that is up to you, is it not? It is your artifact—”

“I am glad you remember.”

Silence followed, and Essek basked in the little victory. He floated his coat across the room.

“Give me a moment to get ready and write a message,” he relented. “I will be there soon.”

He could practically hear the pleased smile without seeing it. “Excellent. I await your arrival.”

Click.

He sighed again. Of course, he wanted to chalk this up to…to his associate being overly nosy and much too eager to flex his authority, but the fact of the matter was that he very rarely bothered with Essek unless it was important. Which, naturally, had its own problems, but at least it let Essek keep to his own schedule.

It was just a shame that he would have to miss the arrival of his new tenant. He hoped it wouldn’t set a bad first impression—well, second impression, technically. The first one…already it had been two missed phone calls and a stiff conversation.

He found a piece of paper and uncapped a pen.

Then again, he wasn’t here to make a friend, was he? Of course not. He was just being self-sufficient.

Mr. Widogast, he wrote. Unfortunately, I have been called away for an emergency at work…

— — —

And it was only about twenty minutes later, as he let himself into the Marquis’s guesthouse, that he realized he should probably text his tenant the house code.

— — —

“Maybe we should’ve brought him something too,” said Nott, leaning on the side of the car, watching Jester and Caleb lift one last box. An orange tabby cat wound between her legs.

“Scheisse, I did not think of that,” Caleb blinked. “Er…do you think it is too late to visit a store?”

“A store?” Jester shook her head. “What are you going to get him, a bag of chips?”

“Well, er, no, but…perhaps an ice cream…”

He leaned against the stack of boxes and caught his breath. When he looked back up, there was pity in their eyes.

“Caleb,” said Nott, “that’s a terrible gift.”

“What? I…really? I thought…don’t people like them?”

Jester reached across his luggage and gave him a pat.

“I got an extra slice of blueberry cheesecake,” she said. “I was going to save it for later, but…I think you should give that to him.”

“Oh, Jester, I cannot—”

“Do it,” she insisted. “If you’re not going to let me meet him, then at least I want to help you make a good impression.”

“Apparently, he is not even home right now.” Caleb gave his phone a gentle shake. “He texted me earlier with the door code and an apology. So unfortunately, you would not be able to see him even if you wanted to.”

“Part of the trap—”

“It is not a trap—”

“Oh, but if he’s not home,” Nott began, and Caleb was instantly worried from her tone, “doesn’t that mean…doesn’t that mean we could go inside? And…take a look around?”

“Nott—”

“Oh, oh! But what if it’s a trick!” Jester gasped. “What if it’s a test? To see what Caleb’s like?”

“Caleb is great at tests,” Nott said. “I’m sure he’ll do fine.”

“I can only do fine if you two cooperate,” he rubbed his face. “Please, if I do end up staying here long term, I am sure that there will be plenty of opportunities for you to snoop.”

“Not snoop,” Nott corrected. “Scope him out.”

“Ja, exactly that. Now…” Caleb glanced at his friends, then looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the apartment complex. It was in a much nicer area of Nicodranas, much nicer than he particularly was used to, though quite a distance from the coast. Tall oak trees draped over the streets, boughs draped in a fine trailing moss, branches weaving modest shade from the sky. Coral ivy climbed up the side of the building, and from down on street level, looking up, Caleb could count a total of six floors.

A few of the windows were open, letting in the cool summer breeze.

Home, Caleb thought. A home, anyway. For now.

He gave Nott and Jester a smile.

“Thank you for helping me move, today. I promise I will send you pictures of the inside.”

“Good!” said Nott. “It’s the least we deserve.”

“And don’t forget the cake,” Jester added. “Are you sure you’ll be alright lifting everything by yourself?”

He held up a hand, and waggled his fingers.

“I think I can find a way to manage. Though I must say, it will not be nearly as fun without you two.”

— — —

And now, it was well after sunset.

Caleb sat in a bedroom that was three times bigger than his last one. Neater, too.

This Mr. Thelyss must do very well for himself, to afford such a home. After lugging his belongings into the elevator and congratulating Schmidt on a job well done, Caleb had ridden up four floors and punched in the password and had been truly surprised at the size of this housing unit. Thelyss had a full kitchen, complete with bar stools and a counter, and even a small sitting room with a couch and TV. There was a bathroom, with a tub, and Caleb noted the two other doors that were off limits—bedroom and study. There was a section of the sitting room, by the large bay windows, where space for “cat things” had been set aside, and a sliding door beside that area led to a modest balcony. All of the décor was minimal, with only a few paintings adorning the walls, depicting landscapes of some place that Caleb could not recognize. Aside from that, the only concession to personality was a bookshelf stacked to virtually spilling with tomes and novels and hardbound texts. To his surprise, he’d also found he could not read a majority of this writing, though not for trying.

There had also been a note on the counter. He could read this one. And after he did, he smiled faintly, then wandered into his bedroom, put his things away, and got his cat settled, as instructed.

Then he gently placed a single slice of blueberry cheesecake next to the note, taking care to make sure that none of the corners got jostled.

He picked up a pen. He wrote:

Mr. Thelyss—

I once again thank you for your flexibility. Though I similarly am saddened that we cannot yet meet face-to-face, you have a beautiful home that I will do my utmost part to maintain. Additionally, please accept this gift as a small housewarming token.

Also, Frumpkin is a very well-behaved cat. If you see him when you wake up tomorrow, feel free to give him many pats.

Looking forward to speaking with you, Caleb Widogast.

He read through a note a few more times to make sure that he was covering everything of importance.

And, when that was settled, he retreated to his bedroom, and flicked off the lights.

He lay in bed for a few minutes, gently stroking his cat.

“Well, Frumpkin. Here we are. Home sweet home. For now.”

Frumpkin meowed back.

“Well-said. Now, we should probably get some rest, eh?”

He shifted around, getting comfortable, and eventually closing his eyes. How lucky he was to find a place like this, he marveled as he began drifting off to sleep. With such comfortable sheets, as well.

And all that was left was to finally meet this Essek Thelyss.

On his chest, Frumpkin began to purr.

And to hope that they’d both get along.

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

#critical role #critfic #critrole #shadowgast #fic #fanfiction #oh boy oh boy im excited for this one!!#jay writes #now what are the chances of that #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #modern au #long post #fanfic #text #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!

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def-initely-soul · 4 years

Note

Hey bootiful, can I get the hooking up with a stranger and then looking for the person with that costume + that person being the cop that (on another year) interrupts the party and OC makes inappropriate comments thinking it's a costume with sexy yuta? 😘

one sexy yuta coming right up! ;)

pairing: yuta from NCT x reader (f.)

prompts: strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph & you’re a cop here to break up the party but i thought it was a costume and may have made some inappropriate suggestions regarding your handcuffs

genre: humour; slice of life

warnings: mature language; suggestive themes; sexual content; drunking; weapon mention

words: 1.4k

“Y/N? Y/N?”

…

“Y/N!!”

You jump in your spot, finally hearing your best friend yelling into your ear from next to you. “Huh, what, what?!” you yell as well, taken aback as the Annabelle next to you narrows her eyes at you. And that would’ve been completely creepy if you didn’t know your friend was behind the costume.

“You’re still looking for him, aren’t you?” she remarks, crossing her arms on her chest and your eyes widen.

“AHahhahaHa, what?! Nooooo,” you rush to reply. Even though you both know you don’t sound at all convincing.

Your friend takes a breath, letting her arms fall down, eyes following the crowd. “If we both search, maybe we’ll find him faster.”

You give her an appreciative smile. Last year, on your friend’s, Doyoung, Halloween party you hooked up with a handsome stranger dressed as Legolas from The Lord of the Rings trilogy and it was possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He somehow knew exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands and to be honest you’d connected in both a physical and emotional level. You’re pretty sure if you had another chance with him you could hit it off.

The only problem is you don’t know his name. Truth is you were a bit too preoccupied fucking to share each other’s names last time, a mistake you’ll make sure won’t repeat itself this year.

Hence why now at another one of Doyoung’s famous Halloween parties, you’re searching for the boy with the long blond hair.

“What does he look like?” your friend brings you back from your reverie and you quickly describe him to her, even though you’ve done so a thousand times before.

You spend more than half the party scanning over the crowd for the mysterious stranger, although you don’t spot him anywhere, and Doyoung is too preoccupied in his spot as the host (or just too fucking drunk) to give you any useful information.

The sensible thing for you to do would be forgetting about him and hook up with someone else; you had the choice if you wanted to. Your costume as a sexy nun had a lot of people walking your way and asking for your name.

But you weren’t feeling it. You were still stuck to the blond elf that knew how to push your buttons right.

You sigh in remembrance of that night, that helped you get through many lonely nights of your own.

The way he held you close, full of passion and intensity, the way his hips drove into you as he choked you, making you lose any sense of self in that time spent together, it all came back all the time, making you wish you’d at least learned his name before you’d left.

At that moment, the music stops suddenly, drunken people confusedly staring at each other at the sudden halt. Your friend looks over to the door to see Doyoung talking animatedly to someone dressed as a cop. You follow her line of vision only to stop in your track when you realise who it is.

It’s him! It’s the guy you’ve been looking for, the guy who rocked your world.

You nudge your friend in shock. “That’s him! Oh my god, he came! Fucking finally!” you exclaim before walking towards him, ignoring your friend who for some reason sounds too panicked.

As you approach Doyoung and the elf, now dressed a cop, you hear his deep voice addressing Doyoung.

“...I’m sorry buddy, I’m just checkin’...” he says, somehow remorseful as another guy dressed as a cop next to him scans the house as the music comes back on.

“Well, well, look who’s here…” you announce your appearance with a teasing smile on your lips, making sure to sway your hips just enough to entice him. And you’re indeed successful judging by the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

Last time he saw you, you were dressed as an undead cheerleader, your legs were bare, free for him to marvel upon and enticing enough to draw him in. While this time, even though the dress is ankle-length and long-sleeved, there’s a slit on the fabric, just below your panties, revealing one leg and a bigass large keyhole neckline revealing the top of your breasts. You’re pretty sure he’s done for.

He, in turn, is dressed in a pretty standard cop outfit, dark blue uniform that fits him just right, tight around his chest and thighs and you feel your mouth salivating. There’s even a gun on his holster and a pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt.

Which gives you an idea.

“I, Uhm- H-hey!” he stumbles to reply, visibly affected by you and you internally gloat at the fact. The other guy next to him raises an eyebrow that for some reason doesn’t sit right with you. So you ignore him in favour of the fine piece of ass in front of you.

“I was wondering where you were, you know…” you whisper lowly as you smile seductively at him, dragging your finger down his chest.

The handsome stranger gulps under your ministrations, somehow too flustered to answer you and the guy next to him presses his lips together as if to conceal a laugh.

His presence next to the two of you makes you self-conscious but you decide to pay him no mind.

As your hand lowers down his body, your fingers meet cold metal and you glance down to see you’re touching his handcuffs. You smile.

“Came here prepared, did we?” you bite your lip as you stand at your tiptoes to get closer to him and whisper against his ear. The guy next to him finally looks somewhere else and your confidence returns tenfold when the handsome stranger lets out an affected breath.

“I’ll let you use them on me if you give me your name…” you propose and lean back to find him completely red, not at all as you remembered him from last time and when you’re about to ask what wrong, there’s a noise coming from his pocket.

“Officer Nakamoto, report your status, over.” comes the muffled sound from his pocket and he rushes to grasp the walkie talkie hiding in it.

“All clear here, sir, over,” he responds immediately at the walkie talkie and your eyes widen when the realization hits you.

He’s not wearing a costume.

“Shit…” you mumble quietly to yourself as the guy next to him who’s probably his partner is barely keeping it together. Or at least until their superior signs off and the walkie talkie goes silent.

Then the guy bursts into laughter, holding his belly as he literally shakes from his giggles and you stare elsewhere completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’ll leave know…” you say in utter shame as you turn around to leave, cursing yourself for your carelessness when a hand wraps around your wrist.

“No, wait…” you turn to see the object of your affections pleading you with his eyes before he turns to his partner. “For fuck’s sake, Taeyong, just of wait in the car,” he reprimands him and the other guy walks away with his hands raised in defeat. Although you can still hear his chuckles as he walks out of the house

Then your handsome stranger turns once more towards you and realizing he’s still holding your wrist, he lets his hand fall.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s an idiot…” he chuckles quietly as if it’s something only for the two of you and you feel your heartbeat rising at the small bit of intimacy.

“And I’m sorry about all of… that,” you say making a motion with your hands to gesture at the whole of you as the cause of the previous awkwardness. But he simply smiles.

Then he takes a step closer and when your eyes meet his, you see once more that predatory glint in them that became familiar with last years.

“I’ll tell you my name if you give me your number…?” he asks expectantly, pushing his unlocked phone to your direction and you bite your lip to suppress a smile. Not very successfully though.

You take the phone from his hands and punch in your number while adding your name in the contact as well. You give it back with a lopsided smile and he’s quick to read over your name with a smirk.

You cross your arms on your chest. “Now for my reward?”

His smirk grows. He leans in, his cologne infiltrating your lungs, hypnotizing you as his breath fans over your ear.

“You can call me Yuta.”

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Running Through My Veins (Chapter One)

TITLE: Running Through My Veins

FANDOM: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Princexiety, Logicality, Dukeceit

Warnings: mentions of torture and surgical procedures, but nothing more graphic than the presence of a scalpel--but will get more graphic down the line.

SUMMARY: The Mindscape is a shoddy freighter eking its way through the galaxy, captained by a Ronisian named Patton Sanders and crewed by the Angelus, Logan Berry, as well as Patton's adopted son, a young Kaelian named Roman. They keep to themselves, taking mostly honest jobs to get by as well as the occasional passenger.

One passenger, a Decirite researcher named Janus, booked passage with cargo--and when said cargo is inadvertently opened, the ragtag crew must contend with the addition of a primitive, violent species rarely seen outside captivity.

Former research specimen, Virgil Storm: an honest to goodness, real life Human.

Notes: I don't know what this is yet. I don't know what it will be. It wanted to be written.

Like it? Say so, I may do more. For now, I just wanted a gay disaster, to hurt Virgil, and some Logicality tenderness. That is all.

AO3 link here.

“Roman? What's the holdup, kiddo?”

He almost didn't hear Patton coming up behind him—almost. Kaelian hearing was too keen to miss it, but Roman was also a warrior...or wanted to be. He prided himself on his awareness of personal space.

Patton's warm, bulky fingers, however, were a welcome visitor within his personal sphere, gently curling around the nape of Roman's neck in a gesture of Kaelian comfort and Ronisian concern.

A concern that was very much warranted, because Roman was both awed and horrified by the thing he had found in the cargo bay of their ship.

Their newest passenger, a shady looking Decirite named Janus, was the one who owned the large cargo container Roman had opened. He knew it was wrong, he wasn't allowed down here for a reason, but he'd heard something and couldn't contain his curiosity...

He heard the sharp intake of air when Patton spotted what was in the cargo container.

“I'm sorry, Patton, I...I know I shouldn't have opened it, but--”

“Never mind, kiddo. Just...get Logan. Now.”

********** Fear and pain and fear and pain andfearandpainandfearandpain oh god oh god not again please someone help help help help--

Virgil's eyes snapped open, hands lashing out against shadows he couldn't name, faces he couldn't bring to mind.

Slim, powerful fingers circled his wrists, immobilizing him. Rough, guttural words he didn't understand filled his ears. The scream in Virgil's throat was choking him, couldn't escape, he couldn't breathe...

“Qu'a rho.”

Virgil froze, recognizing the word but only barely. He'd heard it enough times before to have gleaned an understanding. It belonged to the race of elves—at least they looked like elves.

The Kael. The warriors. That word...

It was supposed to mean 'safe.'

Virgil stilled, though he couldn't control his trembling. He finally drew back just a little, just to see who had hold of him...

...oh God, he was entirely too gay for this shit.

The young man looked to be his age, give or take. He was lean, but powerfully built, with dark hair that hung nearly to his shoulders and those delicately pointed ears Virgil had seen before. His skin wasn't quite red, but close enough to make him look like a badly sunburned Irish dude. Nearly normal, basically.

Well, Earth normal. He wasn't on Earth anymore.

“Qu'a rho.” the beautiful elf boy said again, dark eyes earnest as they seemed to search his face with an expression Virgil could only call hopeful.

There was something about the Kael...God, why couldn't he remember? His brain felt like it was filled with syrup, his thoughts slow and sluggish and sticking to things like broad shoulders and glossy, touchable hair that brushed them as he leaned in closer to Virgil--

Gay. Gay, too gay, too fucking gay for this shit.

“Ka-ah row.” Virgil echoed, wincing as he butchered the pronunciation of the word. From the Kaelian, it sounded rough and powerful—from him it sounded like he was coughing. Or barking...one of the two.

The Kaelian smiled, and Virgil thought vaguely that he might pass out from how fucking pretty it was before the Kaelian began talking to him a mile a minute in his native tongue. Virgil would have been happy to listen, uncomprehending, forever...

...but then one of them suddenly appeared just over the Kaelian's shoulder, and Virgil knew he was going to die.

********** “Very smart, Dr. Berry—approach a torture victim with whom you can't communicate with a scalpel when your own people were the ones that tortured him.”

Logan spun around to face the Decirite passenger, who, as far as Logan was concerned, ought to be locked in his quarters. Patton was captain, however, and as such the man walked free.

“He does not, in all likelihood, even understand that this is for him.” Logan pointed out. “He is, after all, human.”

The Decirite—Janus, if Logan recalled correctly (and he did, he possessed total recall like every normal Angelus did) was incapable of rolling both of his eyes, but the humanoid graft on one half of his head provided a lovely honey brown eye with which to emote, opposite the gleaming black one that had no lid nor visible iris.

“Of course, I forgot: deathworlders are too primitive to comprehend much in the way of anything.” Janus shot back. Nudging his way past Logan, Janus approached the human, speaking in a strange variation of Common Logan was unfamiliar with.

Seeing Janus seemed to melt the human—it was the best description Logan had as the creature sagged, then all but fell into Janus's six arms when he perched on the edge of the bed and opened them to accept the seemingly frightened creature in a gentle embrace.

“Logan?”

Glancing to the side at Patton as he came up beside him, Logan let out a huff and watched the odd scene of Janus and the human conversing while young Roman sat on the opposite side of the human, watching him with a blatantly enraptured expression.

“Do you believe him, Patton?” Logan asked uncertainly. “Janus—do you feel his story holds any validity?”

Patton laughed, the musical sound filling him with light as it always did.

“It's like I told you, Lo-lo.” Patton giggled, gesturing to the pair. “Honesty doesn't require as many words as lies doe—they're not saying anything right now, but what do you hear?”

Logan opened his mouth to remind Patton that one could not hear in silence...but as was becoming common in the two solar cycles he'd been aboard the Mindscape, a beat up old freighter with barely enough crew to run her, Logan's mind caught up with his mouth.

He saw the way the human clung to the Decirite. He saw the way the Decirite ran fingers through the human's hair while another hand rubbed his back and still another found one of the human's to cling tight, their fingers meshed firmly together.

Closing his mouth, Logan sighed.

“I see...trust.” he finally relented. “The human clearly finds comfort in the presence of a fellow deathworlder.”

“Good job, Lo.”

Logan glanced over at Patton, whose thick and craggy features only just managed to emote as he smiled, eyes lost in the rocky landscape of his face.

Reaching out, Logan gently touched one of the protrusions on Patton's cheek. Though it looked solid as the stone it emulated, it yielded under his spindly fingertip, and flecked away from the skin below when Logan gently slipped under a place where it separated from the rest of his face.

“You have a shed coming.” Logan reminded him quietly. “Will you require assistance?”

Patton didn't answer right away. If Logan didn't know better, he would have said that Patton was leaning into the touch of his hand.

“I'll let you know, kiddo.” he reassured Logan softly, reaching up to pat Logan's hand. Briefly, it felt like sparks danced over Logan's pale skin with the simple brush of Patton's boulder-like fingers.

“Am Virgil, son of Dirt.”

Logan's attention turned sharply towards the trio again. The human was looking right at him, trembling, eyes wide and overly shiny.

He was also speaking Kaelian—badly, but still speaking it.

“There were several among the guards at the facility who were Orin—honor-dead Kael.” Janus explained in Common, then again in the strange variant of the language that Logan's translator could not yet parse—seemingly for the human's benefit. “He picked up some, that's how we began conversing. I was led to believe he was a lab rat, bred and born in that facility, but when I realized he'd been a victim of body snatchers, what he'd endured...”

Janus trailed off, turning back to the young human—to Virgil—and abruptly pulled him close again.

Little more explanation was required. Janus had clearly escaped the Angelus science facility in which he was working as a researcher, with Virgil in tow—stashed in a stasis crate with a faulty seal that had drawn Roman's attention.

Moving closer, Logan made sure Virgil was watching as he laid his scalpel aside.

“Can you explain the translator to him, Janus?” he finally asked.

Janus nodded, speaking softly to Virgil. After a moment, Virgil glanced at Roman questioningly. Roman, visibly distraught, reached carefully for Virgil's hand and spoke to him.

“On the honor of my house and my blood, new friend: you shall come to no harm by our hands. Logan is a good man. He will keep you safe.”

Virgil just stared at him, uncomprehending, but seemed to find something in Roman's face that soothed him. Nodding, he glanced at Janus again, and repeated the action.

“I'll sedate him.” Janus replied for their benefit. “I did it for transport, he trusts me.”

“Very well.” Logan sighed.

Gently tipping Virgil's head to meet his gaze, Janus stared into his eyes. Logan averted his own eyes just slightly, making sure that the unique musculature of the Decirite iris didn't catch him unawares.

Within a few moments, Virgil was slumping back into Janus's arms, unconscious. Refocusing, Logan moved towards the infirmary bed.

It was time to get to work.

********** Virgil woke up a second time, just as panicked as the last.

Because when he woke up this time, he was just as slow and sluggish, his thoughts slow and thick—and he hurt.

Lashing out with one arm that was quickly caught by an unseen assailant, the throbbing that pierced his head had him falling back with a moan, despondent because he was gonna die this time they were coming and Janus lied he lied Virgil was going to die alone and afraid...

“...you hear me? Virgil, please...please, come back...”

Blinking, Virgil realized a face was hovering over his—pale red, not quite light enough to be pink, with those delicate features and dark eyes...

The Kaelian. From before...the stupidly pretty Kaelian...

Gay Disaster, thy name is Virgil Storm.

The Kaelian grinned, revealing too-straight teeth, edges like razors. Too often, the smiles with those teeth showing meant he was about to suffer some new atrocity for reasons he couldn't fathom and no one was willing to explain to him.

“...pain? Is it pain? We implanted a translator node, but connecting to the right portion of the brain is tricky, as human physiology is still a bit new to us...”

The Kaelian was talking again—wait. The Kaelian was talking. In Kaelian—but Virgil could understand him as effortlessly as if he were speaking English.

“Yeah, hurts. Like hell.” Virgil managed softly. He got a blank stare for his trouble.

“I'm sorry, par ma'a—can you nod or point? Our translators are still parsing your native tongue, I can't understand you.”

Shutting his eyes, Virgil touched his head.

“Expected. Just a moment, stay still...”

Unable to help himself, Virgil cracked his eyes open to watch the Kaelian bustle across the...infirmary?...to pick up a very small device made of black metal, about the size of a square Lego brick, only flat. He reached out, and in spite of himself, Virgil flinched.

The Kaelian looked stricken, and his expression...Virgil suddenly wished he spoke fluent Kaelian to tell him it was okay.

“Lhoj.” was all he could muster—the Kaelian word for 'sorry,' and probably not the right one.

Still, the other boy smiled again, more softly this time.

“No apologies are needed, Son of Dirt.” he soothed, reaching out again more slowly to affix the device to Virgil's temple. It was cool, and pulled uncomfortably for a second as it adhered—but then the Kaelian did something, and he couldn't feel it any longer.

The pain was already dulling, too. Wow. Now he could focus on the important thing...

“My name's not Son of Dirt.” he grumbled. “It's Earth, son of Earth. It's, uh...”

He fumbled, trying the Kaelian greeting again with the English word for Earth.

“Am Virgil, Son Of Earth.”

The Kaelian blinked, then spread his arms in a pretty theatrical display of joy.

“Oh, rapture! Virgil, Son of Earth—a pleasure to know you, properly this time. I am Roman, Son Of...ah...”

The Kaelian, Roman, trailed off with a frown as he returned to Virgil's bedside.

“I, uhm...I don't have a House anymore.” he admitted quietly. The way he hung his head, the way his ruddy skin went paler...

Virgil didn't know a lot about Kaelian culture, but he understood the mercenaries that worked in the facility where he'd been kept were outcasts without a House, something like a family. That was something Virgil definitely understood, given his own situation before he was taken.

Reaching out for Roman's hand, Virgil shifted so he was gripping Roman's forearm, and he was gripping Virgil's—the way the mercenary guards always greeted each other.

“Good journey, Roman, Son Of Kael.” Virgil declared, exhausting what little Kaelian he knew.

Roman just gazed at him, expression full of wonder. It made the warrior boy look oddly fragile, and it made Virgil's chest feel light and...fuzzy, like his insides had been stuffed with a warm fleece blanket.

“No one has addressed me that way since I was small.” he confessed. “I am orin, but...but perhaps you're right. If we have no House to honor, we can honor our...oh, that's your planet, isn't it? Not your house! That's the word for it, Earth!”

Grinning, Virgil nodded. Roman laughed at that.

“You are a fierce and noble creature, Virgil, Son of Earth—may the Prophet bless your house for generations to come!” he boomed with another grand gesture, fists pumping into the air that made Virgil laugh.

“God, you are so extra.” he huffed with a shake of his head. “If you weren't so hot, it'd be annoying.”

Roman pointed at him accusingly, but he was still smiling. “I do not understand your words, but from where I stand, Human, your tone is one of doubt! You must trust me: you could flee captivity to no finer vessel than the Mindscape, and be no safer under any captain than that of my heart-father, Patton Sanders. We are wayward brothers, you and I...on my honor, we shall avenge your mistreatment and bring honor to your house!”

Virgil watched Roman start swanning around the infirmary and relaxed back into his bed, finding himself strangely comforted. He hoped the guy didn't mean literal brothers, because...well.

Gay disaster. Pretty alien.

Virgil was just plain fucked all around—and if he was lucky, that might even be literal.

#fanfic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #sci fi #humans as deathworlders #ts logic #ts anxiety #ts deceit #ts creativity #ts morality #i'm experimenting let's see what happens

6 notes · View notes

elles-writing · 4 years

Text

Broken - Kili x reader

Summary: You being in love with Kili, but (thinking) him falling in love with Tauriel.

gif not mine

(A/N: It had to end up that reader dies/ends with someone else, buuut just no, because I don’t like Tauriel. She can end up with Bard or someone). After reclaiming Erebor, everyone can hear your wailing and crying all the time, but one day it stops. Kili decides to find you, after Fili tells him, and he finds you devasteded, not wanting him to come close to you or to even touch you.

A/N: Woow, this got so long. I’ve just finished this up (this concept and a beggining was in my phone notes) and I am quite pround of it! Also, just a three more days of my summer job, can’t wait for it to be over, so I can watch The Hobbit and The Punisher nearly every single day (and write much more often)! I hope you’ll enjoy it cuz I’ve been writing and editing it over three hours and I’m both satisfied and tired af! And if you wanna be tagged, message me!

Warnings: Angst (a LOT of it), fluff

Taggs: @soradragon

It was over. Your love for Kili, reclaiming Erebor - it was over. You were crying in your chambers, alone. Thinking what have you done wrong.

You weren't a dwarf, you were a human and when Gandalf - old friend of yours - asked if you'd like to join, you just shrugged your shoulders. You had no husband, no children, so some andventure would be great. Little did you know that you'll find an amazing friends and later, to fall in love with one of them...

Only to have your heart shattered.

You were crying and thinking of them two. They seemed to be happy. You'd never looked at them or listened if you didn't have to. You were jealous, broken, sad, angry and disappointed.

It have been you whom was cleaning Kili's wounds, since your mother was a healer, it was him you were pulling pranks on Fili with, it was him who was comforting you whenever you were scared, him, who was teasing you, flirting with you, calling you flirty nicknames, such as 'goergous', 'princess' and 'beauty', teaching you about dwarves. Now, it was all gone. You were wailing and crying yourself to sleep, getting out of your chambers only if you had to. You forgot which day was, they all were the same anyway. You didn't cared if was day or night. Only if there was a rainy day, you'd opened up balcony doors. Rain was comforting you and making you to fall to calm, dreamless sleep. You would've maybe knew a lot of medicals, but none could help you with your issue.

Little did you know how worried was Fili about you - his really good friend. He knew about your feelings for his brother, which was why he silently didn't approved his brother's choice. He and most of other dwarves heard wailing and crying every single night, but one night - it was full moon - there weren't any. It was a three days since the dwarves have seen you.

It was a three days since the dwarves have seen you and they all were worried. All the time someone would ask the same, simple question.

"Where's the lass?"

But no answer would've come to him. As if you've never been there. Everything and everyone were quiet. No one would dare to bring up your name, favorite color, meal, anything.

Kili was away to help to some dwarves whom needed help, and when he came back, Fili dragged his brother to a room where was Thorin, Balin and Dwalin already. Fili looked at his brother furiously.

"It's all your fault, Kili!"

He screamed and Kili looked around, confused.

"Wha-what is my fault? What are you talking about, Fee?!"

"I'm talking about Y/N! That lass loved you and you broke her heart! She was crying herself to sleep, vailing she couldn't talk and now she haven't came out of her chambers for a days! It's your fault!"

Kili's mouth opened in surprise.

"I-where's she?"

Kili looked around as if you'd be sitting there with crossed arms on your chest, sitting in simple white dress, you've worn in Rivendell and he mercisessly flirted with you that evening, and looking furiously at him. As if he could hear your voice, echoing through his head. 'You've fucked this up this time, Kili. Really fucked up.'

Kili looked surprised.

"She-she've loved me?"

Fili fighted with the urge to slap his brother and roll his eyes.

"Yes, but you've found someone else, and she apparently wasn't really the type to not care.,"

He shook his head.

"I'm going to get her out of her chambers, so-"

Thorin stopped him by placing his hand on Kili's shoulder and shook his head.

"She's not there, Kili."

Kili froze and looked around.

"We were trying to find her, but you know how she is - she won't show up until she wishes to."

Dwalin said with sadness in his voice. You were like a daughter to him.

"Then, I'll go and look for her under every leaf, 'till I find her."

He said and before anyone could've stop him, he was already out. Apparently, it took him a few hours. You were sitting up on a tree and crying and wailing. Kili quickly climbed up to you and sat near you, careful not to be seen or heard.

"Such a nice day, isn't it?"

Your cries and vails stopped. It was the first thing he've told you when you met.

"Leave me alone." Your voice was hoarse, but filled with coldness.

"I won't 'till you tell me what's going on." Kili folded his hands and stubbornly swinged legs. He wouldn't see you on the other side of the tree trunk, but he knew you were already planning on escape.

"Tell me what's going on, Y/N. We're friends, aren't we? You know you can tell me everything."

You froze and then slowly got up. And, as if you'd be an elf or a cat, you jumped on the other tree, and another and another. Kili have heard you, so he started following you. It took you almost an hour before you climbed up some tree to the higher point you could and started crying again. You thought that Kili stopped following you, but the truth was, he was sitting on the other side of the thrunk. You started whispering to yourself while drying out your tears, thinking he couldn't hear you.

"He has his elf, why he's here? Why does he cares anyway? I was stupid, oh so, so fucking stupid."

Your body was shaking and Kili was cursing himself for making you to cry because of him. He thought he deserved to be slapped by Fili earlier, and a few more times after that. He quietly came closer and touched your shoulder.

"You know, the same things I thought when I've seen you with that elf in Rivendell." You flinched away and carefully stepped away.

"W-with Lindir? What? Why?"

"Because he was just...he was just..." Kili's face burned bright red. You smiled inside.

"What he was?" You asked, enjoying teasing him.

"He...he was...eh, smiling at you. And he made you laugh the way I do, when you laugh from your heart and it's honest and...and the most beautiful sound I've ever heard." Kili looked a bit embarrased to admit that.

You paused for a second.

"I want to eat chocolate...badly." you admitted.

"I want to eat a chocolate with hazelnuts." And quietly grinned. It was a phrase you've told to Lindir after talking of the dwarves at the dinner. He took you to kitchens and let you to eat as much chocolate as you wished to. That evening you've realized that Lindir was surprisingly a great friend.

Maybe because you've had some dinning customes.

And took a bath in your room.

He was showing you around and what made you laugh, it was the way his cheeks got pink when you've started talking about the very beginning of your adventure, in house of Bilbo Baggins. Maybe that was the moment when Kili showed around.

Your smile froze, But it didn’t mattered now. Kili wasn’t in love with you,

You’ve turned around and started to climbing down the tree until you were down in record time. Then, you started running away.

You were faster than most of the dwarves were, simply because you were taller and maybe you’ve had some elvish blood, somewhere far in your family blood-line. Anyways, with your quick actions you’ve got at least little time ahead before Kili started running after you. You needed your time, but he have decided to be there with you. What was he planning on?

In a split of second, when you’ve turned around to see Kili almost behind your back, there appeared some branch and with your whole strength either your head or the branch made a terrible cracking noise. Then a strong wave of pain went through your body and fell apart down on the ground. Kili’s voice filled. with fear and worry, somewhere behind you screamed.

“Y/N!! NO, DON’T, PLEASE-” He hurried towards you and kneeled down. He took your head, placed on his lap and you could feel how he was shivering, his hands were shaking.

“Y/N, can you hear me? P-pleas-e, ans-wer t-to m-me, p-ple-a-se!”

Your vision was blurry, black dots appearing everywhere, but you’ve noticed that Kili’s face was glittering. Glittering with tears. He is crying, you thought.

“P-plea-se, d-don-don’t y-you d-d-are t-to lea-ve me,” He was shakily praising you, resting his forehead on yours. You weakly smiled.

“I love you, Kili.” And single tear dropped down from your eye, making it’s way on your cheek to corner of your mouth, falling unconscinous.

His heartbreaking scream would probably hear Thranduil, no, even hobbits in Shire, yet he didn’t cared. He slowly picked up your body in his arms and rushed towards Erebor, screaming on top of his lungs to get a help, to get a healer.

You’ve woken up with a terrible headache. There were some voices around, but everything was as somewhere beyond a veil. After a while of adjusting, you recognized that they were at least three and what they were saing.

“You were quick, Kili. Thanks to you, she survived.” Then there was another one, hoarse, as if he’d be crying for past few hours. And then, you were standing next to bed, looking at them - Balin, Kili, Thorin, Fili, Dis and few others - with no signs of smiles in their faces. They were sad, so sad. Grief over you in their faces.

“B-but she hav-ven’t woken u-up y-e-t...” Kili said. Thorin patted his shoulder, his face having sad expression, trying to not to cry along with Kili.

“You’ve saved her life. You know how stubborn she is. She’ve survived the battle of five armies...she can do this.” Kili shook his uncle’s hand off his shoulder and looked over on your pale face, bandages on your forehead, covering a huge wound you’ll have probably a huge scar afterwards. He knew how deep it was... Deep enough that you’ve lost a blood before he was able to bring you here...It was all his fault...only his, he thought, over and over again, and fell on his knees next to your bed, honding your hand as if it would be the most important thing in his life that was keeping him alive, crying again and burrying his face to his hand.

“What have I done to you, Y/N, I’ve hurted you so so much...I’m the biggest idiot in the whole Middle-Earth...you were dying because of me, and now I don’t even know if you’ll ever wake up...” He sobbed and looked over at your face with that weak smile, eyes closed as if you’d be in a very sweet and deep slumber.

“If-if you can hear me now, I just want to say that I want you to wake up...I know I’ve hurted you so much...and I words cannot even explain how much sorry am I...b-but...maybe...maybe we could start...start again? You know, I’ll give you everything, as much chocolate as you wish, I’ll be with you when you’ll decide if you want to stay or...or you can leave Erebor, i-if that’s wh-at you wish...I’ll understand.” He sobbed again and you’ve noticed that there was only you and him, everybody else left Kili to tell you what he truly felt.

“B-but if-if you’ll leave, I-I wa-want you to know...that if there’ll be someone who-who will break your heart, I-I’m gonna kick their ass, because you deserve the best...and write me please...if you’ve married,” he was almost choking on his words.

“...if you have kids...” His voice broke and you’ve sat down next to him. Then a strong desire to comfort him, a wave through your body, and you were pulled away.

You’ve opened your eyes, feeling your left hand in a strong grip and wet. You groaned on the bright light everywhere and hoarsely said.

“If you’ll keep talking like that about my life, I’m going to slap you so hard even Bilbo in Shire will hear it.” Kili’s head was immediately up.

“You-you’re-you’re awake?!” If you wouldn’t be so weak, you’d laught at his high-pitched, excited voice. Before you could even blink, he was hugging you tightely.

“K-Kili, not t-that much please,” You whispered and he immediatelly loosened his grip, but started kissing your face, laughing.

“You’re-you’re awake! I’m so happy, I-am I dreaming? If yes, I don’t wanna wake up-” you’ve laughted.

“No, you’re not.” This time, Kili was crying out of happiness.

“FILI! AMAD! THORIN! DWA-” You’ve silenced him with a kiss on lips. He was surprised at first, but eventually, he melted in and kissed you back.

When everyone came in, they’ve seen that scenery of you and Kili in heated kiss, and Dis cleared her throat. Everyone’s amuzed smiles were immediately lighting up the room when you and Kili quickly pulled away.

Everyone was hugging you and you happily sighed. They were your family. A huge family you’ve loved so much.

When they left you alone late at night, Kili’s head was still resting on your lap, him playing with your thigh-long hair.

“I really meant what I’ve told you. I-I love you, Y/N,” He said for a thousand time that day. You leaned in and kissed him. When you pulled away a bit, you whispered to his lips.

“I love you too, Kee. But...why did you were with Tauriel all the time...before?” You tried to sound as casual as you could, but you’ve always been bad at pretending and lying.

“Well...I, uh, since she was the only...uh, woman I could ask this...I was asking of a human courting rituals. Because I’ve never told you about the dwarvish ones, I-I just...I just wanted you to know...right away.” You sweetly smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Oh, Kili, Kili, you are such a dumb master dwarf,” you giggled.

“Hey, I was nervous and afraid of rejection! And I’ve almost kicked that elf’s ass back in Rivendell.” You giggled again.

“I don’t think that’d made lord Elrond really happy.” He grinned.

“You’re right. But it’d be definetely worth it.” You thought for a moment.

“What is dwarvish courting ritual?” Kili looked on your hair in his hands.

“Braiding hair. I wanted to ask you to braid your hair back before...this happened. Four days ago.” He gestured to your head.

“So, are you going to start your I’m-so-sorry-for-everything-that-have-happened-speech or just finally braid my hair? I have a lots of it.” You gestured to them. Kili’s eyes lightened up and he squialed. He was right away sitting behind you and braiding your hair. You smiled to yourself and let yourself relax under his touch on your hair.

When you’ve married, you wouldn’t be happier. Kili was wonderful husband, and even more when you’ve found out you were with child. He was overprotective so much, you were surprised he’d even let you to walk a few feet away from him.

When your first baby was born - a son - he was crying out of happiness. He was so proud on both of you that you were healthy, and when a few years after came a daughter, his world seemed even more complete, as if it was only this way right. He couldn’t imagine not to have this life without you, or that you’d have it with somebody else.

Your babies were growing and he’ve taught them shooting a bow, how to fight with sword and an axe and daggers and a few other things. When they were old enough to understand, he’d tell them of his and your’s adventure, both with the Company and your love-story.

Tauriel was like an aunt to them, she was happily married to one elf from Rivendell’s guard. You’ve slowly got friendly with her, especially when yours and Kili’s children were loving her as an actuall family member.

They’d often be chatting with her, and one day, they’ve told her of a small bump on your stomach, which was slowly getting visible and they couldn’t wait for their sibling...

#kili x reader #the company #the hobbit fanfiction #the-company-x-reader #kili-x-reader

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ailec-12 · 4 years

Note

Prompt: AU, bored and exploring Malfoy Manor at a social function, young Sirius Black finds an old diary belonging to T.M. Riddle.

Thanks so much for this prompt, Anon! To be honest, at first I had no idea what to do with it, but it would seem Tom’s diary possessed me as well, because once I started, I couldn’t stop. I’ve enjoyed writing teen Sirius a lot, so I hope you’ll also like it.

Shout-out to @mariagvogel for making this one shot better with her comments. It can also be read on AO3.

Sirius hated them all —every fucking member of his family. Nothing could really top his hatred for his mother, who insisted on dragging him to those pure-blood parties no matter how much her eldest son embarrassed her. He was wandering around, sneering at the portraits that lined up the walls of the Malfoy mansion.

Those events were always supremely boring, but Sirius had never felt so utterly alone. Regulus was socialising with their cousins like the good Black son he was. Yet, the only cousin that really mattered, Andromeda, was not present and no one talked about her. Her face still decorated the Black family tapestry, but Sirius did not think it would last long. It was a very odd feeling. When Andromeda talked about cutting ties with her family, they used to laugh about going out in style. He had not seen his cousin in months, though, and, if she had concocted any plans with her Muggle-born boyfriend, she had not breathed a single word about it to Sirius.

The dark corridor he was crossing at the moment threatened to be as dull as the guests downstairs. At least he had managed to slip unnoticed from the party. He could not have shown his distaste as freely there. A somewhat distant crack startled him out of his thoughts. He froze on the spot. That must be Dobby. Although Sirius could not say he liked the house-elf —who was always too overexcited—, he pitied anyone who had to live under the thumb of a prat like Lucius Malfoy. Dobby was also far nicer than Kreacher. Even so, if he saw Sirius snooping around, he would be forced to tell his masters. Sirius would rather avoid angering his mother so soon when there was still a long evening ahead of them.

Thinking on his feet, he walked quickly to the end of the corridor, where a door hid the stairs to the attic. Andromeda and Cissy had discovered that one dragging a very young Sirius with them. He could no longer remember the exact reason, but they had been hiding. It felt like a very far memory.

Sirius closed the door carefully behind him and waited until he heard the second crack that meant Dobby had left. The party seemed not to exist in the absolute stillness of the stairs and Sirius let out a long-suffering sigh. Glancing up, he decided to head for the attic. It was a good hiding place if nothing else.

The room looked dirtier and more abandoned than Sirius remembered. It actually reminded him of their attic at home, full of useless and forgotten pure-blood memorabilia. He stepped around the worn-out furniture, dodging the odd-shaped items scattered in some parts. He could not help thinking that, if the rest of his friends were with him, poking around Malfoy’s stuff would have sounded much more exciting. Alone, however, Sirius did not truly feel like exploring.

Looking round in order to find at least something to distract him from the fact that there was no one to share his findings with, his eyes fell on a small bookcase. The dust made his eyes itch when he got closer and most books did not even have a title on the spine. He gazed at them blankly for a moment longer, trying to decide whether picking them up was worth the effort. His interest was suddenly piqued when he saw a small rectangular item wrapped in fading brown fabric. That time, he took it with no hesitation, revealing a black leather book. It was rather thin and the year on the cover —1942— let him know it was not a recently purchased item. As he opened it, he was disappointed to find there was nothing on the blank pages except for a name on top of the first one: T. M. Riddle.

Sirius let it fall, huffing. An empty diary whose owner did not even have the right surname for the house. He did not really care if it had been someone who had married into the family or if some Malfoy had stolen it. Somehow, Sirius was not able to picture someone staying for a sleepover and leaving their diary behind.

Bored, he sat down on the floor, near the diary. He could already see the others’ faces when he returned downstairs having ruined his new, shiny robes. The mere thought brought a smirk to his face and lifted his spirits lightly. He picked the diary back up. Perhaps no one would ever see it, but Sirius wanted to leave his mark in case someone else found the old thing.

He searched through the drawers and found a couple of broken quills, but no ink. He cursed out loud, remembering the Muggle drawing kit that Moony had gifted him last Christmas. He would carry a pen everywhere if he was not certain his mother would enjoy burning it while Sirius was still carrying it.

Nevertheless, he found a small piece of charcoal and did not hesitate to open the diary at the first page. In big capital letters, just under the name, he wrote, FUCK PURE-BLOODS —SB. He had to admit it looked lamer than it had sounded in his head, so he was trying to come up with another epithet when the words faded away. Blinking, he stared down at the yellowish pages. If it was a means of communication like the two-way mirror he used with Prongs, he might be screwed.

The diary answered right away.

Interesting choice of words to write on someone else’s diary. And who might you be?

Sirius looked at the words for a few seconds. It had been quite a prompt answer for an object that had seemed abandoned just a moment ago.

I’m not telling you my name, he decided to write at last. He was not that much of an idiot.

As you wish. Mine is Tom.

Again, the reply was quick. Sirius bit his lip, rolling the charcoal between his fingers.

Are you friends with the Malfoys?

I might be, came Tom’s enigmatic answer. They must not have taken great care of my diary if you have got your hands on it, though.

The calligraphy was elegant, although not as flowery as Sirius’s. For all his faults, the Malfoys were not as exclusive as the Blacks. Tom’s elusive comments sparked the boy’s imagination and he was already picturing Riddle as the offspring of a marriage between a Malfoy and someone of not such a high standing.

Focusing back on the pages, which had returned to their original state, he decided to try his luck.

Do you write to them often?

I can’t say I do.

Sirius could almost hear the playful tone behind those words.

What would you do if I took you with me?

Write to you, what else?

Sirius’s smirk grew bigger as he closed the diary and threw away the charcoal.

II.

In the end, getting away from the gathering had indeed been worth it. His parents had not been able to do much in public, since they knew sending him home would actually have been a reward. By the time they had got back, both of them had been too inebriated to punish him properly. Sirius had got away with just his hurt pride at having had to apologise to the Malfoys plus a quick stinging hex before being sent to bed. Still, his leg hurt like hell from the surprisingly well-aimed spell.

He was lying on his bed, groaning into his pillow and with absolutely no intention of sleeping. He would like to contact James through the mirror —he did not think anyone would hear him despite the absolute silence—, but he did not want to come across as needy. He could wait until tomorrow to whine and tell his friends all his woes.

Turning around, he sat up and examined his leg. He concluded it would be better not to risk asking Kreacher for a pain potion, since it would lead to his mother hearing about it. In a couple of hours, it would no longer sting. Making what felt like an enormous effort, he stood up and started disrobing. It was only then that he remembered Tom. Still half dressed, he hurried to get ink and quill and got comfortable in his bed. It was pretty late, so he told himself he might have to wait until the morning for an answer.

Are you there?

Of course.

Sirius smiled at the immediate reply.

I —don’t— regret to inform you that you are no longer with the Malfoys.

His grin grew bigger as he felt clever. He would keep talking to Tom if it was going to help him forget about his misery for a while.

You sound like more interesting company anyway. I take it that you had fun and the event is over?

Sirius scoffed loudly.

I don’t think a single one in that bloody bunch of old snobs know what having fun is like.

You may be right, but why would you want fun when you already have power?

Reading those words gave him chills and sobered him up. Perhaps it was because Tom’s phrasing urged him to agree at first. He frowned and put down the diary to physically distance himself from that feeling. Almost right away, though, he picked it up again.

Do you believe that blood supremacy crap?

He felt something akin to disappointment and had to rein in the impulse to throw a cruder accusation.

What I believe does not matter. It is a fact they have power, is it not?

Sirius liked that answer even less and he felt his frown deepen. He stared as the ink faded, considering what he should retort. Apparently, Tom found his words sooner.

You benefit from that power, don’t you, S?

An inexplicable, overwhelming anger rose in the boy’s throat and he was scribbling furiously before he was aware of it.

Fuck you. My name is Sirius.

He slammed the diary shut and threw it in his trunk.

III.

I’m a fucking tosser.

It was the first thing he wrote in two weeks and the black letters were blurry.

Do tell.

Tom’s response came at once as usual, but it felt oddly impersonal. It was just what Sirius needed, because the last thing he wanted was a friendly ear. He was determined to avoid thinking about the next letter he would have to write to Prongs.

I was going to spend half the summer at a friend’s, but I crossed my mother and ruined everything. I’m not going anywhere now.

A little splash smeared the ink before it disappeared completely. He wiped his eyes furiously while he waited for Tom to say something.

Oh, boo-hoo. Why would you act out if you needed her permission?

Didn’t plan on it, you twat. Just happened. You’d also scream at her if you’d met her, he added before a reply could come.

I think not. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.

Pretentious prick, Sirius shot back. He was feeling calmer, though, and not truly annoyed.

Tom offered no reaction to that, but Sirius did not want to finish their conversation so soon. It was a very welcome distraction from the pain and humiliation that usually followed an argument with his mother.

I don’t know how I’m to survive an entire summer locked up in this house.

Have you tried to escape?

I’m only 14. The Ministry will find me as soon as I try to do magic.

Of course, living as a Muggle is out of question.

Sirius frowned, not liking one bit the mockery he could feel behind the words.

It is when I have neither Muggle clothes nor Muggle money, he retorted.

And your friend? Wouldn’t he take you in?

James would, he was certain of it. However, that would require detailing exactly how bad things were at home. It was not worth it, Sirius told himself as he had a thousand times before. It was only three more years until he could do magic and then no one, not even his mother, could stop him —after all, his fourteenth birthday was just a few months away.

My family would not allow it, he wrote instead.

Are you important or something?

Again that derisive feeling. Sirius could not explain why he felt the other’s intentions so distinctly.

Or something, he agreed noncommittally. He was about to add something else when a knock on his door startled him.

Swallowing with difficulty, he reminded himself that only one person in their household would knock before entering. Not that his dear brother waited for an answer. Sirius had barely had time to close the diary when the door opened. At least, Regulus was not in the habit of barging in.

“What do you want?” Sirius snapped right away, feeling anger consuming everything within him once again.

Any tentativeness disappeared from his brother’s demeanour and his young face hardened. He closed the door after coming in, but did not step closer.

“Don’t take it out on me. I did nothing.”

“Yeah, I think that might be the problem. You never do anything. The perfect son,” snarled Sirius, in a well-rehearsed course of action.

“What d’you expect to get when you insult the whole family? Couldn’t you just go along with it for once and say what she wants to hear?”

Regulus was frustrated, but his controlled manner paled in comparison to the ire running through his older brother, who jumped off the chair, not caring about the noise.

“I’ll never stand by while she badmouths my friends,” he said, barely restraining from shouting. “But of course you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. You’d need to have some friends for that.”

The jab hit Regulus as hard as Sirius had intended and his pain was plainly visible on his face. He refused to regret having caused it.

“I just came to see if you were all right, you imbecile.”

Regulus practically spat the words before turning around and taking hold of the doorknob.

“Hurry up and move along, then. I’m fine.”

Regulus opened the door and stared back one last time. His mouth was a hard line and his eyes glistened. He looked too old for his age.

“You’re a liar.”

IV.

Have you ever been trapped with no option to escape?

It was the middle of the night of a perfectly ordinary day, but Sirius could not sleep. Luckily, it seemed that neither could Tom.

Most people have at one point or another, came the answer, swift and vague as ever.

His friends were taking too long to reply to his letters and Prongs had forgotten the two-way mirror at home when he had packed for his holidays. Talking to Tom felt just as good, though.

More letters appeared in the centre of the page while he was lost in thought.

What matters is your ability to break free when the time is right.

What is ailing you this time? I can tell you didn’t steal an enchanted diary to complain about your house-elf’s cooking.

Their correspondence was getting more familiar and Tom did not hesitate to cut his ramblings short. Sirius decided not to beat around the bush, either.

Do you come from a pure-blood family?

I have old blood running through my veins, yes.

Sirius had never felt so grateful for Tom’s pretentious nature. He had a feeling the other would understand.

They burnt my cousin Andromeda’s face off the family tapestry. She has married a Muggle-born, so they say she’s tarnished our blood.

And you fear to suffer the same fate?

I’d fear to stay in this house forever, but

He hesitated. Sometimes, he felt as if he were offering up too much information, although nothing he had said so far was truly a secret.

she is my favourite cousin.

The words faded away slowly, as if the diary were absorbing Sirius’s strong feelings behind them, too.

I think she’s forgotten me, he wrote in a rush, feeling extremely self-conscious.

That time, Tom seemed to take an eternity to answer.

Pure-bloods are good at holding power, but their short-sightedness will be the death of them.

The words took Sirius aback and he did not think about his next response.

I thought you fancied that blood crap.

I told you. What I may believe or feel is not important. Ignoring the talent of those who do not fit the ideal perfectly will hardly do us any favours.

Sirius blinked, uneasy at how reasonable Tom sounded. He needed to think, so he wrote goodbye and returned the diary to its safe place. After a while, he realised he could contact Andromeda once he was back at school.

VI.

Sirius skimmed through Prongs’s last letter. He still needed to get back to Moony and Wormtail as well. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake off the feeling that his friends were far too predictable. James told him all about his brilliant family holidays, whereas Remus was as bored and lonely as Sirius. And he really could not bring himself to care about Peter’s latest crush.

On top of his apathy, he was worn out all the time. The bright side of it was that he was usually too tired to pick a fight with his parents. He spent most of his time locked in his bedroom, listening to Muggle music or just staring up at the dark ceiling —or writing to Tom. Sirius could not consider him a friend since the bloke had not revealed much information about himself. Yet, during their exchanges, Sirius did not feel quite so sad or angry, just sort of entertained.

There was only a week and a half until the beginning of the new school year. The rest of the Marauders would not be surprised if Sirius told them he had been too lazy to reply to their last batch of letters. Thus, he picked up the diary, willing to forget about the world for a while.

VII.

You didn’t write yesterday.

Sirius felt a pang of culpability upon seeing the message. In fact, he had felt guilty ever since school had started. Normally, he waited until his friends had gone to sleep to take out the diary and write on it, sheltered by his drawn drapes. At first, he had looked forward to that nightly encounter, even if it made him feel like he was lying to his friends. During the day, Moony and Prongs were set on finding out what was wrong with him. Nothing Sirius told them stopped their nagging. He could admit he was bloody irritable around everyone those days, but it did not truly warrant their insistence. At least with Tom he had not needed to worry about reining in his temper so as to avoid worried looks.

Nevertheless, eventually, even Moony had let the matter of his bad mood drop. It had led to a more relaxed atmosphere in their friend group and, for the first time since their return, the previous night Sirius had gone to bed knackered and happy and, especially not feeling like he needed to seek out someone else’s company. Frankly, he had not thought Tom would care, but now the guilt rose back up and it was not because he was hiding something from his friends.

I was busy.

It was a lame excuse, but Sirius told himself he did not need to explain his reasons to a perfect stranger.

Hanging out with Hagrid again?

Distaste dripped from the ink of every one of those words.

No, planning a prank for a greasy git. He won’t know what hit him. Sirius’s smirk vanished before it fully formed. He frowned, still thinking about Tom’s comment. What have you got against Hagrid, anyway? He is all right.

That is because you do not know what he is capable of.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the condescending reply. He had known Hagrid for over three years and, while the man had his quirks, he was one of the nicest people Sirius had ever met.

Another sentence appeared as the first one was absorbed by the page.

Want me to show you?

He read the question a few times, trying to understand what it could possibly mean. Tom had never implied they could send anything other than messages through the diary.

“Can’t you– What are you doing?”

It was barely a whisper, but he had already jumped when Moony drew the curtains back and so, he ended up spilling ink all over himself and the diary. His wand was knocked off as well, falling to the floor with its tip still lit up. Sirius barely spared a glance at his friend as he attempted to get away from the mess.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” Remus apologised right away. Turning around for a moment, he retrieved his own wand from his bedside table. “I’ll clean it up.”

With a circular movement, he managed to summon the ink and get it back into the bottle. The diary was intact, not a black trace on it, although Sirius suspected not all the ink had been collected by Moony’s magic.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, because his friend was looking at him with soft eyes full of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t sleep and saw the light from your wand.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep, either.” Sirius huffed, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. “Sit down, for Merlin’s sake. Unlike others, I don’t bite.”

He received a brief, albeit quite powerful glare as expected, which in return brought a grin to his face as he closed the diary and put it in a drawer for the time being.

“Was that… a diary?”

Moony’s incredulity was obvious, so Sirius forced himself to let out a dismissive snort.

“Just brainstorming our next pranks. Prongs and I still have to take revenge on that Seventh Year Ravenclaw prick for laughing at us when Snivellus and Evans dumped us in the lake.”

“To be fair—”

“I don’t want to be fair, Moony. I want to laugh at Mr Brainy.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but a long yawn interrupted whatever he was going to add. Right on cue, Sirius also yawned.

“I think I’ll go back to bed now. You should try to get some sleep, too.”

“I will,” promised Sirius, smiling fondly at his always responsible friend.

He drew the drapes and snuggled up under the blankets, having forgotten all about Tom and Hagrid.

VIII.

Guess who is not going home for Christmas?

Sirius was feeling light as a feather and needed to share his enthusiasm.

Did you get your face burnt off the family tree as well?

Not yet, he replied, beaming in the semi-darkness. His penmanship was messier than usual, because his brain was going too fast for his hand to keep up. I’m going to spend the break with Prongs. His parents have invited me to go with them to ski. The entire hols! he added, trying to convey his utter delight, for he felt like exploding every time he thought about the letter he had just received.

My mother will be furious, he kept on, not waiting for an answer. She will have to explain her disgraceful heir has once again chosen blood traitors over the family.

You do realise that, by cutting ties with them, you are only making things harder for yourself, don’t you?

As if I cared. I’m not going to put up with their pompous arses one minute longer than I need to.

Well, perhaps there is something better that you can do at school if you stay.

“What?” Sirius almost yelled, turning it into a whisper at the last moment.

I’m not staying, he wrote quickly.

Why did Tom feel the need to sour his mood like that? He had said he was not upset by the lack of daily updates on Sirius’s part, but he may have lied.

You never let me show you that memory about Hagrid. I could show you things about Hogwarts, places no other person knows about but me.

Sirius felt his hair stand on end. No one should sound so alluring through a written message. Without another thought, he slammed the diary shut and pushed it off his lap. He was suddenly afraid of how much he had longed to accept Tom’s offer.

As if a veil had just been lifted, he realised the diary was an object taken from a family with close links to dark magic and even darker social circles. He had been tired all summer and his bad temper had persisted after getting away from his family. He had only started to feel better once he had stopped writing to Tom every day.

He nearly tossed the diary out of the window, but he stopped when he took it in his hands. Surely, he was overreacting. He had been talking to Tom for months and, even though the other gave him the creeps from time to time, he had felt no dark influences trying to control him. Prongs always said he was paranoid about everything that had to do with dark magic and he reluctantly had to admit his friend may be right.

Tom must be even lonelier than he was to keep him company after all that time, for Sirius would not describe his life as fascinating. He was happier than he had ever been at Hogwarts, certainly, but Tom had put up with his continuous complaints about his family the entire summer. Perhaps it was only fair that he felt ignored since school had begun, because Sirius had indeed been writing less and less frequently as days passed. He felt like a terrible friend —even if they were not such—, so he picked up the quill again, dipped it in the ink and wrote,

Why do you like talking with me?

I thought you were braver. I thought you’d dare uncover Hogwarts’ deepest secrets.

The ink faded away slowly as Sirius found himself unable to tear his gaze away. New words appeared before he could think of an answer.

Let me show you, insisted Tom. It all started when

Sirius slammed the diary shut for the second time that day, although on that occasion his decision was fuelled by blind rage. The urge to know was still there, whispering in his ear that he should continue reading, continue writing. However, another feeling flooded him and he distinguished the sting of something else besides his hurt pride. He was under no delusions that they were friends, but he had hoped —believed— that the other’s interest meant he shared his feeling of comfortable attachment. Sirius had enjoyed being able to say anything without fear of being judged or pitied, but right then, he only felt manipulated.

Truthfully, he had very much longed to know the answer when he had asked why. Instead, Tom had insisted on talking about his own damn secrets and mysteries. In fact, Tom had elegantly sidestepped every personal question and had always sounded more invested in reading about Sirius’s troubles than any good news he brought up.

The hurt cleared his thoughts in the most painful way possible. At that very moment, he could not care less whether he was indeed paranoid or losing his mind. He had itched to know whatever Tom had been about to tell, but curiosity had played no role in it. The pull had been far less innocent than that and, once he could recognise it, he realised it had been there for a while. However, he had never expected that darkness would feel so sweet and intoxicating —so inoffensive.

Damn, he truly was a bloody idiot.

IX.

Sirius had bravely fought the temptation to write on the diary again to curse its very existence and, so far, he had won. Still, he had buried the blasted thing at the bottom of his trunk and only taken it out on their last day before the holidays. He was currently waiting for his brother outside the Great Hall, while the students who had already finished their dinner passed by while animatedly chatting about their upcoming plans.

At last, he saw the familiar pale face and hurried towards the small group of Slytherins.

“Hey, Regulus!”

His brother glared at him, but murmured something to his companions and they promptly left towards the dungeons. Sirius could not help frowning at their backs —if the tables had been turned and it was him asking to be alone with a Slytherin, he would have expected a little resistance from his friends. Focusing his attention back on the younger boy, he saw the scowl was still very much present.

“What do you want?”

Sirius swallowed the urge to snap back, irked by Regulus’s defensiveness.

“I’m not going back home these hols, so I need you to make sure this gets back to the Malfoys.”

He handed out the diary, wrapped in the brown fabric, but his brother made no move to take it. Instead, he asked,

“You aren’t coming home?”

All of a sudden, Sirius felt his mouth dry at the vulnerability clearly present in the question.

“Um, I’m… I’m not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that bad, though, is it? Mother will be in a foul mood when she finds out, sure, but I won’t be there to aggravate you all every day.”

His light tone was weak and did not get a reaction from Regulus beyond a renewed glower.

“So what, you want me to deliver one of your funny pranks to Malfoy now that he no longer attends Hogwarts?”

“Don’t be daft, I’d never let you take the blame and steal my spotlight.” Regulus refused to say anything and so, a tense silence ensued. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed they had drawn the attention of some students. He pushed the diary against his brother’s crossed arms. “It’s something I took from them at the beginning of the summer. I’m not interested in it anymore.”

Finally, Regulus took it and started to unwrap it. Sirius hurried to still his hands. Physical contact between the brothers had become rare nowadays, but neither seemed to realise.

“Nuh-uh. Everyone’s always going on and on about how you’re so much smarter than I am, so show a bit of brains. It’s one of those diaries you can’t stop writing on. Took me a bit to figure it out.”

It was not all the truth, but he did not know what the diary was exactly and hoped it was enough to deter Regulus from giving in to his own curiosity.

His brother was still looking back at him with plenty of mistrust in his clear eyes, but he would not keep an item like that —Sirius was sure of it.

“You can give it to Cousin Cissy,” he joked, breaking the silence once more. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to have a reason to call on the Malfoys and insult the white sheep of the family at the same time.”

He wanted to add something else, either wish Regulus good luck or happy Christmas. In the end, the right words never came to him and his brother walked away after uttering a curt, ‘Goodbye, Sirius.’

It turned out that getting rid of that diary was the best decision he had made in a while. James’s parents had also invited Remus and Peter to their winter house for a week —carefully chosen by the boys so that Moony would not have to deal with any furry problems.

Not even Walburga’s Howler managed to shatter his happiness. It had arrived one morning, while they were all having breakfast. Sirius had prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole when he had seen Euphemia’s and Fleamont’s faces as they heard the usual string of slurs and threats —fortunately, Prongs was used to those Howlers by then. For a very long moment, Sirius had also feared what they would think of him after learning he was a thief.

In fact, he had barely dared look up when an ominous silence had returned to their table. However, it had soon been broken by a new string of voices, only that time there was a mix of indignation and reassurance and it was all in his favour. Sirius’s eyes had been suspiciously wet when his friend had clapped him on the back and he had had to talk the adults out of seeing Walburga Black before they went back to school.

Even if he did not manage to find an excuse to stay at Hogwarts during the next break, he would not have to face her in months. It was a very freeing, hopeful thought. He knew that his little stunt would bring other, more serious consequences eventually, but he was not very worried about whatever hell his mother had promised. Hell could not scare him when he already knew what it was like to live in it.

#Harry Potter fanfiction #HP #Sirius Black #Young Sirius Black #Marauders #Prompt #My fics #100 Followers Celebration #*

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idjitlili · 4 years

Text

Okay hear me out

Fili x modern!reader

Summary: imagine convincing fili to let you do his hair.

word count:3894 longest fic so far

a/n its my birthday tomorrow aka the 14th of july

You had been somehow transported into Tolkien's universe, at the time of hobbit, landing infront of Gandalf. The fall hurt your bottom, you had groaned and looked up to see Gandalf looking at you in shock. However he had decided you would accompany him to Bilbos house. You didn't have a choice you didn't know where you bloody were! Gandalf has seen pretty nice, he said he would help you, but didn't understand how on middle earth you had ended up in a different world.

At this point Gandalf had already been at bilbos house and left a mark on the door, so it was quite dark when you both arrived. When you had reached your destination , dwarves , lots had stood infront of the door pushing against eachother to get inside. You stood staring at the dwarves as the door was pulled open harshly ;by an annoyed hobbit.

stumbing down on each other with grunts and groans of frustrations ,plus pain. They evently all got up slowly ,your patience was low not as low as the hobbit who muttered 'Gandalf' ,before rushing further into the hole. Bilbo had realised that Gandalf was up to something sighing in defeat as Bombur scoffed down his expensive cheese.You felt bad for the dude these dudes were trashing his den and eating his food, you didnt really like sharing your food ,so you could imagine the pain Bilbo felt. Bilbo didnt even glance at you next to Gandalf he was too busy preventing his hole collasping inwards.

You and Gandalf had walked into the hobbit hole ,swiftly once the dwarves had. The warm air hitting your chilly cheeks,the warm light making your eyes blur for a spilt second ,the burst of loud laughter, clanking of plates and such filled your ear drums. You were going to have a huge headache by the end of the night.

You had hid behind Gandalf ,like a child would behind their mothers when talking to strangers ,as he led you to the dinning room. You were nervous there was no doubt about that ,you didnt want to be refused by this horin you had heard about,but Gandalf told you not worry. Apparently Thorin wasnt even here yet,a muscular dwarf told Gandalf ,he had glanced at you suspiciously before going back to getting ale.

Gandalf had asked a brunette dwarf to find you a seat and some food ,pulling you out from behind him. The dwarf had sent you a wide smile, lifting your hand pressing a kiss to you knuckles,doing a bow sorta thing. "Kili,at your service." his gesture had made you blush,no one had ever done something like that before.

"uh, y/n at yours." you had spoke quietly to dwarf,who smiled again still gasping your hand tugging you to a seat next to a blond dwarf. After he let go of your hand, you had sat ,while the brunette dwarf sat down beside you, there wasnt a lot of room so you were shoulder to both dwarves. The blond one had turnt to you eyeing you,which kili had shoved some bread and ale infront of you. You were starving so you didnt waste anytime eating it ,Kili had smirked looking towards his brother.

"y/n this my brother Fili,Fili this is y/n" you had looked up at Fili with a mouthful of bread,gulping it down quickly,sending him a smile. He was indeed very handsome like his brothr,he had smiled at you. "Nice to meet you" you had spoke quietly yet again. "you too." he had replied unsure of his words,he had taken in your clothing it was very strange to anything he had ever seen a human dress.

"so y/n, will you be accompanying us on our journey?" Kili had questioned you,making you break you gaze from Fili. "i-i dont know,Gandalf says i am ,but this Thorin dude sounds scary." even his name sent chills down your spin ,making you shake slightly,the brothers had broken out into loud laughter. You had looked towards them in confusion. "you are not worry ,uncle cannot refuse a wizard." Fili had spoke to you smiling.

"Yeah,plus we will protect you from him,wont we Fili?" Kili had thrown his arm around your shoulder,making you blush a little again. "Yeah,plus uncle will be too distracted with us causing trouble" You had smiled up at fili,chugging down the ale down that you were given. Soon enough Thorin had arrived ,and Gandalf had explained your situation,arguing with Thorin that you were brought here for a reason,eventually Thorin gave in.

You signed a contract, while Kili questioned about your world on and on,he even asked you if you had a boyfriend which you hadnt even had one real relationship. The Durin brothers were pleased with you answer, Thorin didnt hate you,but wasnt keen on a young women joining this quest incase you got hurt. Plus he didnt want to have to worry for you , like he had already did for his nephews,at least you werent an elf...

By the morning you were on a pony,sharing with Fili becayse no one had planned on a 15th member until you fell infront of Gandalf. You hadnt rode a pony for many years only a couple of times as a child,even though you werent going fast your arms were still wrapped around Fili waist/chest. Kili had smirked at his brother,raising his eyebrows,Fili rolled his eyes mouthing 'jealous' and that was that,of course you didnt know about the interaction.

"If I poppedmy cherry,while riding this pony ,i swear." you had spoken quietly,the phrase confused the other dwarves and Bilbo.

"uh, miss y/n what does that mean?" Bilbo had asked ,he was generally curious,you had smiled at the hobbit.

"it means to break my hymen while riding on a pony ,so basically lose my virginity." Bilbo's mouth gap open slightly in shock,but he slowly nods. Bofur,Fili,kili,and some other dwarves had laughed at your worry.

"you'll be fine as long as you dont ride him to hard" Kili had smirked at you sending you a wink,you had scoffed. Fili had smirked at you rjecteing his brother,it gave him some hope that you would eventually like him, he was developing a small crush on you. You had sent a blush to hus face when you had choosen to ride with him.

Obliviously you hadnt packet for this trip, you were lucky enough to fall into this world ,when you had your toothbrush and toothpaste in hand when you slipped and fell into a portal thang. You were lucky enough for the dwarves to give you any unneeded blankets,so you didnt freeze at night,and fili and kili shared their water pouches with you. When it came to night the brothers would set up their bedrolls either side of you ,and if Fili saw you were cold in the night he would pass his furs over you.

But that was months ago,the war was over ,erebor was reclaimed,apparently the reason you were sent here was to save the Durins line which you did. Thorin liked you much more now ,he had now given you a room ,near his and his nephews chambers. You felt lonely,useless even now ,your task was done you had nothing left to achieve in this world. However Thorin coranation ball was soon,he had already sent you dress makers to make you a dress,as gift for you. He wouldnt let it down that you saved his family ,basically he is your bank,he buy you anything you want,not that you wanted to take any of his money.

You had a dark green dress made ,apparently the tailors said it was best suited for you, it was simple ,busted your boobs a bit,and was to the floor,simple as that. avelvet material,shoulders showing with arms,you didnt want to be cold to be honest. You laid on you bed above the covers ,with a towel wrapped around your torso and upper thighs,covering your parts. Head on your pillow,wet hair spread upon it too,staring the celling.

That was until three brief knocks hit your pine door,knock,knock,knock. You didnt know who to expect probably Bilbo. "come in" you replied with a monotone voice. The door creeked open,closing shortly after as footsteps could be heard approaching you. You turnt your head to see Fili, with a blush upon his face ,seeing you in just a towel, you smiled at him ,before turning you head back to the celling.

"im sorry,y/n , I'll come back later"he spoke quickly,looking at you waiting for a response.

"no,no ,no, stay," you replied hurredly ,getting up from your bed quickly trying not flash the prince, grabbing your tshirt throwing it over your head ,so it covered your. You trousers the same just going under the towel, then removing the towel,you didnt know if fili had watched you but he wouldnt have seen anything anyways.

"uh..so why did you come here?" you had questioned the prince ,turning to facing him, he had his back to the door,from giving you privacy getting dressed. "you can face me now fili im not naked." he chuckled nervously ,before turning swiftly around to you. "I just came to see how you were, I havent seen you for days." he sent you a gently smile,walking closer to you ,inspecting you,for signs of distress.

"Im totally cool,don't worry about me." you didnt want to upset Fili by telling him the truth,but you knew he knew you werent ,you had been in your room for three days straight. He had risen an eyebrow at you. "i just don't know why im still here ,I saved your family,now I feel like im useless to be here anymore." you had spoken quietly , eyes looking at the floor which your bare feet stood. You sit at the edge of your bed ,shoulders lower as the bed dips next to you Fili pulls you into a bear hug his strong arms around your shoulders pulling you into him.

"You are NOT useless ,in the passed few days ,do you know how much I missed you,kili has been driving me nuts. I needed you there so i could punch him and you to say it never happened." you laugh quietly into Filis chest ,as your arms are wrapped around his waist tightly. "ill do it if you let me do one thing,please." you looked you from Fili's chest into his blue eyes. "depends what you wanna do?" he smirked at you,still holding you tightly. "Let me do your hair , like evan almighty." you smiled hopefully at the dwarf ,ignoring his joke,his eyes became wide ,he didnt think you knew about courting rituals.

"Y-you want to do my hair?" he was a little taken back ,you just nodded excitedly at the blond prince."okay,go ahead." he didnt want to call you out on it just incase you didnt know,plus he didnt want to face rejection. You jumped up out of his arms to run and grab a brush ,running back launching yourself on the bed ,making fili laugh at your excitement. You kneel behind the prince ,gently taking out his brides,you kept asking if you were allowed to do this he assured you that you could. After you had done that,you brushed out his blond locks ,before pulling it back into a low ponytail. You wish you could do that pony braid on his beard like in the movie but this will have to do. "hehe ,its done." Fili got up and went to the mirror on your dresser,smiling at you in the mirror as you watched. "i love it,thank you,but now its your turn."

Before you knew it he had picked you bridal style with ease ,placing you on a chair,grabbing a brush standing behind you. Bro it happened in 0.3 seconds ,before he started brushing through your h/c hair. Soon his thick dwarven fingers were lacing through your hair ,it was indeed soothing,ever now and then he would place in his beads at the ends of your hair. Once he had finished he had brought you to the same mirror,once you had looked,you realised he braided your hair exactly like he would.You had turnt around quickly,grabbing hisupper arms tightly,thanking him. "Oh my god fili,lets pranked kili!" he had smirked at you."how?"he was always up for playing tricks on his brother.

"Ill pretend to be you,i already got the hair even though its not exactly the same,i just need to borrow some clothes. And if he asks where you are ,ill be like im right here brother," fili had laughed at your plan argeeing to it.Thorin had gift you with many clothes and even makeup which is what you needed right now. You had drawn on a moustache,that fili had before he had led you to his room fetching you some clothes. Luckily kili nor anyone else had spotted you. You had taught how to do an a dance from evan almighty if he was to be caught. You had changed quickly ,keeping your own trousers just changed your shirt while fili faced away. He had given you one of his tunics and his coat while he just wore a tunic,you left yuor clothes on his bed before the both of you fled out the room, you rushed a head while he sneaked behind.

Soon enough you had ran into kili,who eyed your attire confused,at first he thought you had slept with his brother. "Y/n w-what are you doing?" he questioned you,you smirked at him. "Brother what are talking about? y/n is eating potatoes in bed>" you gripped kilis shoulders ,in a botherly manner eyeing him. He had reached up your braids ,touching the beads. "why are you wearing fili's beads? are yo-" "YOUR IT!" you tapped his shoulder ,running away from him,he didnt question you further ,but chased after you ,but you were simply to fast with your long human legs. You had made it to Thorins throne ,which he sat you jumped into his lap roughly,wrapping an arm around his neck

Before he spoke you had breathlessly taken that chance, "Uncle ,kili stole my last piece of bacon." he had chuckled at you, "now my sisters son ,you may have his dessert tonight." you had cheered,as you did Fili had ran into the room,Kili soon after slow coach.

"Fi;i what are you doing?!" kili shouted ,you smirked "no what areee ya doin'?" fili grinned as kili glared at you turning to his actual brother. Fili started doing the dance from evan almighty "uh,uh,uh" mving his hips with his arms in sync motion. You had jumped out of Thorins lap,to join Fili dancing. Before grabbing his hand ,running off into the gardens as it poured down with rain. The rain streamed down your face ,making the makeup do the same,okay so it wasnt really a prank it was just a little fun.

"Oh mister almighty,you do look very handsome."you spoke smirking at fili as the rain soaked you both.

"As do you ,but I think miss y/n is much more beautiful." he spoke to you making a blush rise on your face,you pressed a kiss upon his cheek. "oh my i just kissed myself." fili chuckled lightly ,you forced fili to give you a piggy back ride to his room,so you could both change and to wash your face , Leaving your clothes to dry however you both left you hair,making your way to dinner in which all the company were attending to you. As you walk in all eyes are on the pair of you,kili gestures for the two of you to sit next him ,exactly like when you both met,kili to your left fili to the right. The company kept galancing at you ,as you began to eat your potatoes and pork.

"y/n?" you had glanced up to see Bofur addressing you ,you nod at the hatted dwarf "did fili do that to you hair ,and you do that to his?" he questioned carefully as fili glared at him. "well.. yeah, i wanted to his hair as something different, but i couldnt because his beard wasnt long enough and yeah" you werent even sure what you were saying,because you knew they wouldnt understand if you said steve as even almight/noah.you shove a mouthful of mash into your mouth,you were hungry,your hair was still soaked.

"you are aware that touching a dwarves hair,is a a courting ritual,lassy?" Balin had questioned you making your face go red,choking on your mash,kili patted you back."shes even wearing his beads!" dori had interjected "and lass wearing dwarves clothes suggests that you get it on-" Dwalin began only to be cut off by Thorin "thats enough! shes human ,and from another world how on bloody earth would she know any of our courting customs? shes wouldnt now leave it NOw." Thorin had defending you sensing you were embarrassed,sending you a smile, which you return lightly."Thorin,may i go finish my food alone,in my room?please." It wasnt that you didnt like fili your crush grew huge over the months , its just you had felt like he had set you up for embarrassment by not telling you. Thorin had smiled at you nodding ,thats all it took for you to grab your plate and drink before rushing up to your room.

You couldnt eat your food now,you had shoved it a side before laying down like earlier ,staring intensely at the cream celling,it felt like it only minutes you had been laying there,but the sky was dark ,the month light shinning in through you window. However you didnt know right now kili was coaching fili how to express his feelings for you,to court you. Eventually they had came up with the idea for fili to ask you to walk with him in the gardens, but first he would have to apologise. Fili had basically became sonic sprinting to your room ,kili was currently hiding in a bush in the gardens. Fili he knocked hurriedly on your door, you had ignored his calls ,he had spoke "I'm coming in y/n." he had opened your door rushing to you,you had ignored him again ,pretty childish you know. "Im sorry ,y/n. I didn't mean to embarrass you,please let me explain." he had spoken sincerely,gripping your left hand. "go a head then." you replied still looking at the celling.

"walk with me." you had groaned,you werent mad with fili,you were just embarrassed about the confrontations,you had slipped your shoes back on ,fili held your hand walking you to the gardens in silence.

Bilbo had walked by kili,only to be pulled in the bush ,telling him to shut up ,and watch. There was a pond with breaks around it,fili had led you to sit on there with him,his rough thumb circled your palm whilst holding it gently. You looked into his ocean eyes whilst he stared back in your e/c ones. "y/n l/n I did not intend to embarrass you only to portray my feelings for you,because I am too much of a wimp to face heartbreak if your feelings werent returned.Also didnt mean for the others to think we slept together ,I saw the joy in your eyes when you wanted to annoy kili ,with me.I didnt want to deny that,okay pretty bad excuses I know but what I am trying to say is I love you." he poured out ,turning away from you red faced ,eyes watering slightly,you had pulled his face to you. "i love you too, seth rogen." you had blushed pressing your lips onto his before pulling away,before pushing him into the pond. You had moved out the way so he couldnt grab you had pull you in. He had went under before resurfacing, "hey when you fell in did you flounder?" you had smirked at your pun,it had matched the situation ,as hours ago you had forced him to impersonate steve carell,kili and bilbo were trying not to giggle. "what was that for?" he had gasped ,climbing out of the pond. "oi,dont be so koi ,you had that coming ,for not sticking up for me at dinner." you had pointed at him,still punning before he walked slowly towards you. "you are right maybe i should present my affection to you to make up for it." he held out his arms ,smirking you had widened your eyes muttering "no,no,no" about to run for it but you were too late,he had grabbed you,lifting you onto his shoulders before jumping back into the pond.

You had only been in the water a few seconds before fili had gotten out,lifting you out after,carrying you bridal style,you smiled up at him soaking wet, before walking towards the building. "lets go get dry then you can braid my hair ,hm?" he had finally gotten his love ,and there was nothing better, maybe a child but not right now,you finally felt you had a meaning to be in middle earth. There was a reason you were sent here to say fili,because you were meant to spend your life with him. "okay mister seth rogen?" he had looked down at you confused,as bilbo and kili stared in awe before sneaking off to tell thorin and the others. "who is seth rogen?" you had laughed "you are the seth rogen to my james franco," he didnt know what the hell you were talking about ,yet he smiled,he really was your seth rogen.

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit fili #fili x you #fili imagine #fili x reader #the hobbit imagines

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romioneficfest · 4 years

Text

Soul Searching

Title: Soul Searching

Prompt/Summary: Hermione admits she was wrong.

Rating: K

Name:

Brief Summary: Hermione admits the way she went about House Elf rights when she was younger wasn’t quite how she should have handled things.

Content Warning: None

Notes: This is very AU and contains an in-depth discussion of house-elf rights.

“You know, Ron,” she said quietly, “you were right and I was wrong.”

Blimey, the Hermione Granger he knew never admitted she was wrong! Ron looked at her with trepidation.

“Um, uh, are you a pod person that’s taken over my girlfriend’s body?” They had watched a Muggle movie called The Invasion of the Body-Snatchers a couple days ago.

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“I stand by my position that house-elves have a right to freedom,” she explained, “But I was wrong to try and hide those hats in the Gryffindor common room and trick the school house-elves into picking them up. And you were right to call me out on it. It was underhanded and very patronizing of me. I never asked them what they wanted, not even once. I fell short of my high ideals of equality and fairness and justice and…No wonder they were all so offended!”

Ron’s mouth closed with an audible snap.

“Don’t feel too bad, sweetheart,” He said gently. “Everyone fucks up. And I reckon we’ve both got a lot to learn about house-elves. I didn’t even see how rough they had it until you pointed it out!”

The words seemed to calm her down. A small hand slipped into his as they walked along the beach of Shell Cottage. The setting sun blazed and glowed the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor, like a phoenix soaring over the horizon.

“House-elves are oppressed,” Hermione mused. “and any legitimate movement for social change has to center their struggle and prioritize their right to self-determination. But I was wrong…I should have known better than to think I knew better than them. I see now that I have no right to tell them what their liberation should look like, or what their relationship to their traditional occupation should be.”

She sighed, and placed her hands over her temples. “As a witch and member of the very class that oppresses them, I was way out of line. And I honestly don’t know how to fix it.”

“Hermione, we’ve been over this before,” Ron said patiently. “you can’t be right all the time. None of us can. You wouldn’t be human if you could! And sometimes, there are no easy answers. Life isn’t a textbook, you know, it doesn’t come with an answer key at the back. Even the house-elves can’t seem to agree what’s best for them. And to be honest, we wizards and witches are so loud we kind of drown them out.”

They were silent for a while. Ron and Hermione were both haunted by Dobby’s near-death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. But the elf had largely recovered from his injuries, thanks to the devoted care of Harry and surprisingly, Winky. Winky and Dobby had hated each other for a long time, due to their vastly different stances on house-elf rights. Still, Dobby was a hero of the War and highly respected by his people. Her friendship with Dobby helped Winky sober up and get over being dismissed by Mr. Crouch. Ron still didn’t get what she’d seen in the crusty old geezer, but he was glad to see she’d finally moved on with her life.

Hermione gave a watery smile. “Dobby and Winky’s political stances are not as opposed as they seem. Both of them support better working conditions for their people, and neither of them condone actual abuse at the hands of humans. It’s just that Winky has a lot of pride in her people’s traditional occupation of domestic labor. And we have to admit that labor has value and is important! Essential, even. Most of the wizarding world runs on it.”

“I mean, only rich people can afford house-elves,” Ron said, “my family hasn’t had one in like, centuries. But Hogwarts would be shot without them, that’s for sure. And I’m pretty sure the Malfoys would starve to death without them.”

“Isn’t it odd that much of the wizarding world can be so dependent on another race of beings and yet so contemptuous of them?” Hermione wondered. “The Death Eaters didn’t emerge in a vacuum. The systems of oppression that produced them are still with us in the form of violence against house-elves, Muggle-borns, werewolves, and goblins.”

His girlfriend used a lot of big words, especially when discussing her grand social theories about the world. But Ron always got the gist of what she was saying. He’d been around her long enough.

“Hermione,” Ron said in a low voice. “You got seven Os on all your NEWTS! Seven Os. That’s kind of a big deal. You could be anything you want. But you always said you wanted to do some good in the world. So why don’t you make SPEW a full-time thing and fight for the rights of these people? I think you’d be good at it. You’ve just gotta be sure you involve them and stay in touch with what they want.”

She looked up at him, startled.

“You don’t think it would be stupid?”

“Of course not! I became an Auror for you, remember? And I’d work double-time to support you if that’s what it took.”

He couldn’t really blame his girlfriend for doubting him on this stuff. Sometimes, he still wondered what she saw in a boor like him. Ron felt twinges of shame for the things he’d said about SPEW before the war. Auror training taught him that hatred and bigotry were powerful sources of Dark magic. Voldemort’s soul had been a shitty, rotten, maggot-filled cesspool of both. No wonder the twisted old snake had wanted to tear it apart.

George had offered him a post at the joke shop, but in the end, Ron couldn’t bring himself to replace Fred. He just couldn’t. Losing Fred had felt like losing a limb. Ron let the pain fuel him for his next round with the Death Eaters. He clenched his teeth and fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I swear, Hermione,” he growled, “I won’t rest until every single Death Eater and all the fuckers who sucked up to them are brought to justice.”

Hermione glowed, her face shining bright like moonbeams and starlight and all that mushy and dramatic bullshit he didn’t get. “I know you won’t.”

She curled into him. His face was very warm, and he could feel it turning as red as his hair. Ron swallowed hard and held her against his chest, feeling like one of the gallant knights in the stories his mum used to tell him. It was a damn fine feeling, he decided.

“I think I’m going to take your advice. My parents want me to apply for a post in the Ministry, but I think it’s as much my destiny to be an activist as it’s yours to be an Auror.”

The stars sparkled above them like a diamond in a wedding ring.

“I have a confession to make,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“When we were at school, I had a crush on you for so long that I was afraid of what would happen when we finally got together. My greatest fear was that we didn’t share the same values, and that it would drive us apart. I don’t have that fear anymore.”

“I was afraid of fucking us up, too,” he admitted quietly.

“You know, there’s a Muggle saying I once read in a book,” Hermione said. “Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”

Ron thought of the final battle of Hogwarts, when he’d been the one to remember the house-elves and warn them to leave the kitchen for their safety. They all fought valiantly at Harry’s side to protect the school and defeat Voldemort. His girlfriend was a tough witch to impress, but he knew he’d got through to her that night. He thought of how proud he and Hermione were of Harry, who’d fulfilled the prophecy and become the first DADA Professor in many decades to last more than one year in the post.

“Well, sweetheart, that sure does sound like us.”

Hermione beamed brightly up at him and snuggled closer. “Thank you, Ron. Thank you for supporting me in the cause we both believe in.”

The sun slipped over the horizon, and the blue water splashed onto the powdery white sand of the beach. Hermione’s face turned up like a flower in spring, and she raised her lips to his. Ron felt his mind go blank at the taste of her cherry-red mouth. He didn’t want to ruin it by talking, so he lifted her clean off the ground, just as he’d done for their first kiss. Hermione’s bushy brown hair tumbled across his face, smelling all sweet and fresh like new parchment and freshly mowed grass and the perfume he’d bought her long ago. And she giggled into the kiss. Ron had wanted this for half his bloody life, but he knew then he would never get enough.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated K #Ace Safe

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kogo-dogo · 4 years

Text

Layman’s Guide to the Sixth House

You know, it’s been a long time (literal years) since I’ve infodumped bullshit about Morrowind to people, and I feel the itch now and maybe this’ll inspire some people to actually play the damn game. If not, at least it’ll lay the groundwork for people when I inevitably angry-write some kind of twisted eldritch House Dagoth bullshit to provide myself the content I want (after I get done with all the HLVRAI/Half-Life shit I have on my plate).

OKAY COOL.

I present: “The Sixth House for Dummies: You’re Not Actually Dummies But I Will Explain This To You Anyway”

Dateline: Year 668 of the First Era

You are an elf named Voryn Dagoth. You are a very powerful elf in charge of a very powerful political house, House Dagoth, and the best friend of the war-king of your people, some asshole named Nerevar Indoril. Your people--the Chimer--are living in the shadow of a very technologically advanced, elitist, perpetually bitchy race of elves known as the Dwemer who, for a long while, were your enemies because... well, your people just stormed onto their land after an argument with their old neighbors and said, “We live here now.”

The Dwemer and Chimer only stopped fighting because other people tried to show up on your lawn and live there. And now your king, Nerevar, is trying to make that ceasefire last because it’s kind of nice to not be always beating the shit out of each other.

But oh! There’s a problem! During some run-of-the-mill diplomatic visit with the higher-ups of the Dwemer, you discover that they’re building a goddamn, divinely inspired war machine in their basement. That... does not sound good. That actually sounds really fucking bad.

So, what do you do? You politely excuse yourself, run home at Mach II, throw open the king’s door, and yell, “Holy FUCK, you know those assholes we’ve been trying not to fight? Bitch, I think they’re going to nuke us.”

Because that is, admittedly, something a technologically advanced, elitist, perpetually bitchy race of elves would do.

So your king says, “Dude, I’m gonna go talk to them about it like a civilized adult, because me and their king are tight as fuck now that we ain’t bludgeoning each other to death. I’m sure it’s all a huge misunderstanding.”

A few hours later, though, your king comes back and says, “Okay, so. That didn’t work out how I hoped it would.”

Your name is Voryn Dagoth and you have accidentally started a war.

Dateline: Year 700 of the First Era

Okay, you are Voryn Dagoth and things were a lot worse than you expected. The Dwemer are building a literal war god out of dead god parts they found in a volcano, and now everyone is involved. Nerevar has an entire posse of people to act as advisors/generals--you; some dude named Vivec who wants to have sex with anything that moves; Nerevar’s wife, Almalexia; Sotha Sil, a mage who doesn’t know how to people very well; and this guy named Alandro Sul who nobody will remember, I promise. You are the oldest, and you do not like these other people very much, but you know what? They know what they’re doing, so we’ll let it slide.

The war has been terrible and, to be honest, considering the fact the Dwemer have goddamn robots on their side and your people are still fighting with spears, it’s impressive you’ve not been utterly destroyed. Again, these advisors seem to know what they’re doing. So much so, actually, that in a final, decisive battle, they help you and Nerevar bust straight into the citadel where they’re building this war god so you can just fight this war god yourself.

The Dwemer panic. The guy in charge of building the war god pulls out a fancy set of tools the second he sees you coming and does... some weird ritual that involves the heart of a dead god. Their entire race vanishes, bringing the war to a very anticlimactic end.

So here you are, confused, standing there with Nerevar and the Scooby-Doo Mystery Gang, holding these weird tools at arm’s length going, “What the hell are we going to do with these? The fuck is this? We should melt these down, right? This seems bad.”

Except most of the Mystery Gang (barring Alandro) is begging you not to destroy them, and Nerevar is flustered and dazed from having the ever-loving fuck knocked out of him, so he tells you, “Bro, I’m gonna go talk to god and see what she has to say about it.”

And you’re like, “... O... kay. I guess I’ll stay here.”

“Don’t let anyone touch this shit, though. Deal?”

“Yeah, cool. I won’t let anyone touch it. Go talk to god, I guess.”

And so Nerevar and the barnyard gang leave you there, alone, with these magical objects that just obliterated an entire race. And you sit there, kind of wondering how it works. So you play with them a bit--feels weird, man--but you’re still pretty thoroughly convinced these things need to be tossed in the volcano and bulldozed over. You hold this thought until the barnyard gang comes back, sans Nerevar and Alandro, covered in blood and demanding the tools.

“Where’s the boss?” you ask. Well, they tell you he’s busy or whatever and you know that’s bullshit. These motherfuckers just killed your best friend, and now they’re asking for these items that just obliterated an entire race. They don’t seem like the type of people who should have them, so you flippantly tell them that your goddamn king told you not to let anyone touch the fancy tools and if they want them so bad, they can go get Nerevar and have him come take them from you himself.

They do not like this answer.

Your name is Voryn Dagoth. Your best friend’s murderers have just killed the shit out of you and taken your impossibly dangerous tools away.

Dateline: Year 882 of the Second Era

Your name is Voryn Dagoth and you are somehow not dead. You wake up in the place you were “killed” and are incredibly pissed off by what happened. The world has changed significantly. Your people, the Chimer, are now called the Dunmer and look completely different. The guys who killed you have somehow obtained god-like powers and are worshiped as deities. Nerevar is now patronizingly considered a saint by his murderers, who also used his dead body as an undead servant and then fucking lost it somehow.

Oh, and your political house? You, your family, everyone? Have been branded “evil” and responsible for every calamity that has befallen your homeland (now named “Morrowind”, apparently, which is also different) since you’ve been out cold. They won’t even speak your name out loud. “House Dagoth” is now “The Sixth House” and “The House Unmourned” because everyone hates you. You know, for doing what you were told and not murdering your king.

Fine. Fine! Two can play at this game, can’t they? In the words of a great scholar, “I was supposed to be good, but you forced me to be bad. So I’m going to be BAD.”

You decide that you’re going to finish the war god. You’re going to take over Morrowind. Fuck, you’re going to take over the whole fucking continent. You’re going to restore order, you’re going to fuck shit up. If they’re gonna fuck with you, you’re going to fuck right back.

You plot. You scheme. When your murderers, thinking you are very dead, come back to use their fancy tools on the Heart (now with a capital H) to restore their stolen divine essence, you mug the shit out of them. You take the tools, you chase them off, you bring back your kin who were executed for just being a part of House Dagoth and you say, “Rise and shine, bitches! We’re starting a religion! Who wants to be immortal?”

And everyone raises their hands because, like, come on. Wouldn’t you?

Now you and all of your brothers and sisters are back and angry, construction on the war god resumes, and you start hardcore studying these magical tools to figure out how the fuck to use them properly. Because you are going to cram your foot so far up the asses of the people who killed you that they are going to be choking on your toenails.

Your name is Voryn Dagoth, and you are feelin’ fine as fuck.

Dateline: Year 427 of the Third Era

You are Voryn Dagoth, and things are going pretty okay. You can do a lot of weird shit with the heart of a dead god, you find, though it’s not the prettiest way to make things happen. You’ve always prized yourself on being a diplomatic and poised guy so, you know, the fact you’re having to stoop to some rough, not-very-aesthetically pleasing lows is not ideal, but it works, and that’s what counts.

Like, you can control disease. The people call it Divine Disease, and it’s got about a 50% success rate on people afflicted, with half of them becoming weird masses of tumorous growths who just drool and eat people and the other half decaying and regrowing parts until they look like weird elephant squids who are still all-there in the head but look really weird. They’re loyal and they’re good company, though, and for some reason everything the disease touches is immortal and insanely strong so. You know. It works out.

You can also mind control people, and infiltrate dreams. It’s good for recruiting people without a plague, and it’s good for issuing orders, and it’s good for freaking people out. That last one is proving to be the most useful, because all of these idiot mortals are now pointing fingers and arresting each other whenever they have a nightmare because, “Oh my GOD, Becky! You’re a DEVIL WORSHIPER.”

So, that’s fun.

The war god is almost constructed and even though it’s taken over four-hundred years (which has given an invading Empire time to take over your home; sucks to suck, huh?), you’re getting a good foothold. Stealing your fancy tools from your murderers means they’re garbage at being gods now, and you’ve managed to expand your enterprise to all sorts of caves and strongholds where your followers butcher non-believers and dance around naked by candlelight. You have assassins in major holy cities that are tearing shit up. You got operatives selling cursed idols right outside of temples in borderline plain sight.

But, lo, there is something on the horizon and it’s vaguely familiar. It’s some scraggly motherfucker that gets dumped off of a boat in the middle of a swamp, and you can’t help but feel as though you’ve seen them before. Or, well, felt somebody like them before. It’s a vibe thing, really, since they don’t look anything like anyone you know, and you don’t really know anyone because you’ve been living in a volcano for hundreds of years.

You take a special interest in this one because of the familiarity. You send them dreams, and you send them personalized invitations to come join your cult. You send your followers to watch them sleep and, like, try to kill them because you’re not sure if this is a good familiar or a bad familiar. They never really take you up on your offer or, you know, die, though.

And the longer you watch them go on, the longer you watch them do things, the more you realize... holy shit it’s Nerevar, bro.

Sure, some superstitious tribals have been chanting about how Nerevar Indoril will come back from the dead for revenge someday (as claimed by Alandro Sul, that guy that nobody remembers), but that was so far beneath your gaze that you kind of let it slide. And now here he is, amnesiac and wearing a new face but checking all the boxes, and he’s being specifically led on a path to come meet you. You know, to kill you.

So, you disease that motherfucker. Incurable god plague, baby! Except he somehow... cures the incurable god plague and he’s still coming. Jesus Christ, he’s persistent.

And... oh no, he’s siding with Vivec, the slutty guy who fucking killed him. You’re raking your claws down your face grumbling under your breath because, you dumb sack of shit, that man murdered you. Don’t listen to him, listen to me. I’m the one in the right, bro, I’m the one who was loyal to you.

And now god herself has endorsed him and he’s walking into your citadels and stealing your stolen tools back and, dude no. Stop. We were friends, bro, what the fuck is wrong with you?

And now he has the tools and he’s coming into your actual house and you’re just sighing in exasperation and trying to explain to him that, you know, you guys are friends. You will totally still let him join your side if he stops cracking open your followers’ skulls. Except he’s still skull-cracking and he’s still coming and...

... Great, now he’s right in front of you. Fantastic.

Okay, so you want to offer him amnesty one more time, but it isn’t going to work. You’re tired, you’re pissed off, Nerevar has somehow grown to believe that you are somehow in the wrong (which you are obviously not; taking over the world with a manufactured war god and a horrific plague seems perfectly justified to you), and worst of all? He has so many questions. He’s just blathering, demanding to know why you are the way you are and it’s just like.

Bro, this is kind of your fault. You left me alone with dangerous, desirable objects while you went to go talk to god. If you’d just let me destroy them in the first place, this never would have happened. Fuck it, offer rescinded. You can’t join my club anymore, Nerevar. Now throw hands or get out of my house.

So, Nerevar throws hands.

You and the reincarnation of your former best friend and king are now having a hair-pulling, spell-slinging, bloody fucking knock-down-drag-out in the middle of a volcano in the shadow of a war god. Your cultists are idiots who keep falling into lava trying to intervene. Nerevar keeps attempting to bypass you to get to the creamy, god-heart nougat at the center of your war god because you know he knows how to undo all the magical shit it’s capable of.

Somehow. Probably because Vivec figured it out and told him.

And if he gets to the Heart and he does that ritual, then your war god is done for. So are your falsely-divine murderers. And, unfortunately, seeing as those divine powers are the only thing keeping you alive after your murder, so are you.

And he’s getting so fucking close and he’s actually got there and you’re trying to burn him alive or claw his face off or literally anything you can do as your powers weaken the longer this ritual goes on until, finally, you look up and see that your war god is collapsing. Nerevar has won. The world is going black. It’s like somebody flipped an “off” switch in your brain.

Your name is Voryn Dagoth. You accidentally started a war, did all the right things, and were murdered. You tried to enact your revenge, you thought you were restoring order, and now your best friend has come back from the dead and killed you.

The last thing you see before you hit the ground is all of your hard work literally falling on top of you. You still don’t understand how any of this was your fault.

#kogoramble #morrowind #info dump #this is VERY long #I apologize #spoilers for a game that's nearly 20 years old

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

1 - If you have caffeine late in the day, does it cause you to struggle with your sleep? Nope. I often drink a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink at night. And before you say anything, my sleep isn’t any different when I don’t have one. My sleep issues don’t stem from that, it’s been going on for a very long time regardless of what I have before bed.

2 - When you struggle to sleep, what do you do instead? So, my nightly routine consists of ASMR, scrolling through Tumblr, doing surveys, watch TV, and sometimes I’ll read.

3 - Who was the last person you spoke to for the first time? How did you come to speak to this person? The doctor I saw at my appointment recently. It was a Skype visit, but I had to physically come to the office. I don’t understand that...

4 - If you have a pet, have they ever embarrassed you in public or in front of friends or family members? What happened? No. My doggos have been sweet and lovely and adorable and everyone loves them.

5 - Do you leave the house every single day? Uh, no. I leave the house once a month in these COVID times. Prior to that, though, and for the past few years, I didn’t go out that much. Compared to now, yeah, but it certainly wasn’t everyday. It was just like doctor visits, grocery shopping trips, and trips to the movies. It was at random times.

6 - Would you rather spend the day at the beach, or a day in the snow in the mountains? Ooooh. That’s a tough one. I absolutely love the beach, but a snow day and then going back to a cozy cabin to sit by the fireplace with a warm drink sounds amazing as well. I haven’t experienced that before, but I’d love to.

7 - Do you prefer tops that are plain, or ones with patterns/logos/slogans? I wear a lot of graphic tees.

8 - Are there any TV shows from your childhood that you still watch today? I still watch Hey Arnold, Doug, and Rugrats to name a few.

9 - How many texts would you say you send on an average day? >> Zero, most of the time. <<< Same. It’s not a regular, daily thing. When I do, it’s just a few. Usually just one or two. It’s quick convos.

10 - Do you enjoy buying gifts for other people, or do you never know what to buy them? I love buying gifts for my family.

11 - Girls - if you get periods, do you suffer from period pain or any other horrible symptoms? I most definitely did when I did get my period. It was always awful. I don’t have it anymore due to health reasons, though.

12 - The last time you were in a car, where you were travelling to? Were you the driver or a passenger? My brother picked me up from my doctor appointment and we stopped by our family friend’s house so he could run in and feed their cats/change their litter box real quick (our family friend is out of town) and then we went to get food before going home.

13 - Who were you with the last time you went out for a meal? My mom and brother. This was back in February during our vacation. Shit hit the fan like a couple weeks later and things haven’t been the same since. I haven’t been out to eat even though restaurants opened back up because I didn’t feel it was necessary and I wasn’t comfortable doing so. We do a lot of takeout, though.

14 - What book do you wish they’d make into a film or TV series? Hm. I don’t know at the moment.

15 - The age old question - do you prefer coke or pepsi? Coke. There’s no competition.

16 - What’s the last thing you watched on TV? Is this a programme you watch regularly? It was Elf. It’s something I watch regularly during Christmastime, yeah.

17 - Do you have a favourite documentary subject (eg. nature, celebrities, history, crime)? I like different types, whatever catches my interest.

18 - Do you prefer sweet or savoury snacks? What snack would you say is your overall favourite? Savory.

19 - Does having to wear a mask stop you from doing anything, just because you dislike them or find them uncomfortable? No. I don’t mind wearing them to be honest. To be fair, though, I don’t have to wear them all the time for hours like a lot of people do.

20 - Do you prefer zip-up or overheard hoodies? Zip-up.

21 - If you have a yard or garden, how much time do you spend out there? I don’t. Not my thing at all.

22 - When was the last time someone bought you flowers? What was the occasion? For my birthday a few years ago.

23 - How often do you get takeaway? What’s your favourite thing to order? Like I mentioned a bit ago, we get takeout quite often. My favorite is Wingstop.

24 - Do you own a lot of clothing items in your favourite colour? What is your favourite colour, anyway? My favorite colors are pastels, rose gold, mint green, coral, and yellow. I don’t have a lot of clothes in those colors. Most of my shirts are black, but I like that.

25 - When was the last time you stayed overnight away from home? Was this with friends, family or in a hotel somewhere? What was the occasion? Back in February while on vacation with my mom and brother. We stayed at a hotel.

26 - Would you ever be interested in seeing a live magic show? It could be fun.

27 - What’s your favourite period to learn about in history? What got you interested in this particular era? I find a lot of different things in history interesting.

28 - Do you still use or carry cash, or do you pay for everything via card? Very, very rarely do I use cash.

29 - Are there any TV shows that remind you of your grandparents for some reason? I watch The Golden Girls a lot, which reminds me of my grandma because it was something she and I used to watch together.

30 - Have you ever had to wear a tie for school or work? If not, do you know how to tie a tie without looking it up? Nope to both.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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kurtty-drabbles · 4 years

Text

House of M Redone part 5

N/A: I got Netflix but I´ll not let my writing stop. Here we go, Kurt, you´re so whipped.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @muninandhugin @tieflingteeth

The school has upholds many traditions, smaller and bigger, among teachers and students. It was a way to bond with the old and next generation. So far, so good. Except, a new novelty roaming around the halls and classroom.

Said novelty is nothing more or less than Nightcrawler, one of the most famous Red guards. Whispers, speculations, including some autographs-sometimes, follow by requests of petting his fur- however, what fuels the rumors are two facts:

1) Nightcrawler is taking his time to visit one person.

2) The said person is none other than Kitty Pryde.

Kitty is spotting a new hairstyle. Fluffy and Jewish style will never out of the menu but is possible to change a few things. So, Kitty has a wavy short style.

(Kitty hairstyle)

At this very moment, Kitty is reading some essays with a knee eye to any strange line regards Namor- some of her students have mothers who like to help in the essays. Some mothers have an extreme adoration- causing an exasperated sigh.

"Oh my God, if I read another line about Namor´s abs..." Kitty taps her pen in a nervous tick. One time, two times, furthermore three times. Now, she´s writing something in the essay. "Tell your mother I´m not interested in knowing about Namor´s sex life...doubt his dick could have stopped the grand war! But rest assured he did try"

"So, not a fan of Namor?" a male voice draws in. Kitty humms in agreement as she picks another essay. Doe-eyes lift up to see Nightcrawler smirking at her. "He can be a hassle to deal, let me tell you that... he and his fangirls" mentally add and his obsession with Sue Storm

"Hello, Nightcrawler, what a surprise to see you, in my office, may I help you? Soon, we´ll dive into the history of the Red Guards...I´ll spares no one of my witty" she promises.

"As I would expect of such a teacher like you" Kurt´s smooth line must be appreciated. "I´m here to ask for a favor. Kitty, would you like to go with me to the royal ball? The royal family has many parties and gatherings and I, as a member of the Red Guard, must attend and be on my best behavior" Kurt notes sagely how her doe eyes are glued on his golden ones.

"Oh, you mean ...no orgies?" her question is childish, filled with innocence as her grin got wider.

Kurt wrinkles at this. His fangirls seem to appreciate his sexy appeal too much sometimes.

"No, no orgies." is important to emphasize this as strongly as possible. Again, some of his fandoms really enjoy Kurt´s sex appeal. "But I do need to be on my best behavior..."

Kitty´s eyes look down as her fingers tap on her desk. She looks up again to send the pitiful stare Kurt ever saw. "Oh, elf, I´m so sorry...who is this stupid lady that refused you? Look" she clicks her tongues and has a contemplative expression written on her face. "I´m a big fan of enemies to lovers and all that, but in real life, if a lady says no...date another lady won´t make her magically love you. LET IT GO, elf"

Kurt can only narrow his eyes at this. " Are you...using Frozen/Disney jokes on me?"

Kitty is the image of the innocent. As usual.

"There´s no other girl, just you" Kurt promised never seeing the appeal of dating a girl to make another jealous. "I must say...your self-deprecating humor is not flattering" smirks at her expression.

"So, let me get this straight, you" points to Kurt vehemently with her pen. "could have any lady to the royal ball and for some reason, one I´m not getting, you want to go with me? What about them?" the pen now points to the pair of eyes staring at them with wide eyes.

It took a minute for Kurt to look. It took a minute for all of them to leave.

"I want to go with you....I feel you, in all your wisdom and wit, won´t let me go to an orgy party" humor is the best weapon. Case and point, Kitty smiles at this.

"Well, I would love to...but, you know, in the program X...they didn´t add in my DNA how to dance and talk to royals" Kurt pouts. Kitty smiles- one must observe, as Kurt did, how her face is perfect to smile- the answer to such line is being waited for.

"You´ll never let me forget that, will you?"

"NOPE"

"Fine, I deserve, I guess. I still think it was strange a ..." thread this line with a clear mind and common sense. "civilian, I would say civilian, manage to handle the situation with Juggernaut so calmly"

"Elf, I´m a teacher...Juggernaut is nothing compared to that" winks at him. "Ok, guess I pick you up at 19hs?"

The nerve of this woman.

Then her face gets serious. "Look, I have to ask...what happened to nurse..." Kitty and embarrassed shouldn´t walk together. She puts her hands in front of her chest to make a point. "you know, the nurse I have a big personality?"

Oh, the nerve of this woman.

"Christine...well, she won´t bother us, I hope"

"She seems ...good"

"You can say she´s not very bright, she asked me if I was German"

"Normally, I hate a man calling another woman dumb or anything like that, but...yeah, in this case...I feel you. Is she alright?"

"Finally got we´ll never happen and took a job in Chicago"

"Well, good for her"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

(Emma´s dress)

Emma Frost is more than used to those social events. Having her school, and her name as well, in such high regard means doors are open for her. The events that almost happen to her students have prevented only thanks to Juggernaut´s stupidity and Emma is well-aware of that.

Oh, right. Kitty and a certain Red Guard are in this equation as well. Not that Emma needs to point this one out.

Oh, speaking on the devil. Emma´s blue eyes narrow as she notices Kitty Pryde, of all people, present in the entrance gate having her arms locked with a certain Red Guard. Oh, Nightcrawler, you´re as subtle and discreet as an elephant in a china store.

Felicia Hardy is Black Cat. Felicia Hardy is a businesswoman and right now, Emma´s date. Coming closer to Emma´s ear to whisper always have double meanings. "Is that...Nightcrawler?"

Nightcrawler is really that popular.

Emma wouldn´t want to introduce herself or have to speak with Kitty Pryde. Sadly, Black Cat has other ideas.

"Oh my god, you´re Nightcrawler, sorry, that sounds stupid. You know who you are. I just want to say I´m a fan" Felicia speaks in an amicable tone and shakes hands with the azzure man.

Her eyes notice Kitty. Kitty, for her part, was too busy sending death glares to Emma. It was a mutual action.

"Oh, you must be Kitty Pryde, Emma told me a lot about you" Felicia smirks. "anyone who can make the great White Queen nervous is a powerful foe"

Kitty now is taken back by this line. "She used to parade around wearing a corset and nothing else"

"Only because you know it looks good on me...not my fault you have a problem with your body"

"Oh, Emma, don´t confuse my ability to use pants to shame over my body. And for the records, all those plastic surgeons ...and no change on your terrible personality" Kitty has a mock concern expression.

Emma won´t dare to cause a scene. Not tonight.

"Nightcrawler, careful with this one. She´s a handful" Emma decides to say only this. Felicia and Emma are holding hands and walking away.

Kurt couldn´t leave this reply without a proper answer. "Oh, God. I hope so. I hope she´s the kind of the woman my mother warned about"

Emma has no response. Felicia is cackling. Kitty is looking at her shoes- if anyone asks, she can say how she was admiring such expensive shoes. Only that- and Kurt wonders if that is the right thing to say.

(Kitty´s dress)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

(Wanda´s dress)

Wanda Maximoff is the Witch Queen, as most of her followers and family love to call her, and while she understands traditions and its importance...she must confess how this gathering almost didn´t happen. Wanda is as social as a person can be.

Tonight, she´s on the edge. Lorna and Pietro aren´t good actors to pretend otherwise.

"Anyone wants booze?" Lorna suggests already with some drinks in hand.

"Sure, but I can´t get drunk" Pietro confessed. "thanks to my powers"

"Wanda?" Lorna asked as Wanda is looking Cap Marvel guiding the boys around - a subtle body-guard. A powerful body-guard- her eyes snap back to Lorna as the other is offering drinks to Wanda.

"Yes, please. I´m not feeling this is a good idea...After everything, I feel we´re sitting ducks waiting to be attacked"

"Wanda...you´re not alone, ok? We´re here to protect you, and everyone else. Let´s be real, not the first time a villain wants to conquer Genosha" Lorna half-joke. No one seems to get her sense of humor.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty was admiring the view. Not Kurt, if he asks, but the people in general. Everyone is so famous and important. Hell, even Emma Frost is important. If her eyes linger on Kurt´s handsome face is only to prove how important he is.

After all, Nightcrawler is the famous Red Guard. The fact he´s here with her still seems a dream.

"Am I that handsome?" Kurt asked smiling showing a part of his fangs.

"I think you know this by now...I´m just impressed by how much important people are here" Kitty confessed. Too honest. Too raw and too afraid at the same time.

"Yeah, everyone here is important"

"I know"

"Even you"

"What?"

Kurt feels this is a small victory. Especially seeing her blushing face. A small victory.

________________________________________________________________________________________

The Queen is not one to ignore heroes. So, once she caught the word Nightcrawler and the famous teacher Pryde are present in her ball, Wanda makes her mission to at least say hi to them.

Poor woman! if she hasn´t thought quickly...her students...

The Queen needs no introductions. Everyone knows her face. Kitty´s eyes widen and without thinking much-if she was thinking at all- she makes a bow and puts her right hand´s palm in her forehead and speaks this line.

"Enchanted to meet you, Witch Queen"

It came out so naturally. Kitty wonders if someone is controlling her movements or something because she feels too abashed to say anything else.

Kurt is at a loss for words here.

Wanda claps her hands together. "Oh, a fellow witch too?" her eyes are glowing. For once, not with her power.

"No, Your Highness. One of my students is a witch and goes to the Cackle Academy in the summer. Her parents believe in education in the magic system and in the mutant system...and I can always learn something new"

Better be honest with the Witch Queen.

Is the wise decision as Wanda nods in approval.

"Still, it's nice to see people paying respects to the Witchcraft rituals. Anyway, you´re Katherine Anne Pryde. I...just want to say how brave you were for dealing with Juggernaut until the Red Guards arrived" Wanda speaks with poison. As a real Witch Queen should.

"Well, he didn´t want to lead me any sword...I had to be creative" Kitty responds.

Wanda chuckles and nods. "You´re creative enough. Maybe next time, Nightcrawler can lean one of his swords" and adds. "still, I´m happy you and your students are unharmed and I promise you...this won´t happen again"

Kurt is really at a loss for words here.

Wanda excuse herself as she has to talk with the Queen of Wakanda. Ororo Monroe.

"Katzchen...what are you?"

"At this moment, I don´t know...Kurt, can I stay the rest of the night holding your arm?"

"Please"

"Thank you"

#House of M redone au #Kurt Wagner #Kitty Pryde #worst witch element #Kurt you´re so whipped #Kurtty #Wanda Maixmoff #respect the Witch Queen #Emma you like to bully Kitty so much people think you are exes #Felicia Hardy is cool

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ampleappleamble · 4 years

Text

Pillars of Eternity: Anthem Infinitum: Chapter 8: Cleaning House

Just in case you don’t/can’t go to AO3 for whatever reason but wanna read chapter 8, or if you missed it the first time around, or whatever. I also did a very small amount of clean-up editing since first publish.

Now to start on chapter 9! *looks at blank document labelled Chapter 9 Notes*

---

"Wael's eyes, man, slow down. It's midmorning yet!"

Axa got up on the tips of her toes and leaned over to pluck the bottle from the old man's surprisingly strong grip, her headache intensifying as she caught a whiff of his rancid breath. She had been mostly joking when she ordered Kana to bring out the wine for their guest, but once she'd seen the delight in the poor old salt's face, the sparkle in his eyes when presented with goblet and bottle-- well, how could she refuse?

She glared at the aumaua now, clutching her last bottle of pomegranate wine, barely a quarter full after the old man's assault. Kana winced apologetically at her, but the little woman only smiled wryly and shrugged. It was as much her own fault as it was his, and she knew it.

The old man laughed good-naturedly, revealing a mouth only half full of teeth, and toasted his hostess with his borrowed goblet. "Early it may be, m'lady," he rasped, a strange sailor's brogue coloring his Aedyran, "bu' this elt lad dosnae rest. An' Magran help us, nei'r dae th' thirst." The old man sloshed the wine in his cup as he spoke, slopping it over the lip and onto the dusty stone floor more than once, before smacking his lips and merrily sucking down what remained inside.

As she had predicted, the night had not gone easily for the newly minted Watcher of Caed Nua. What little sleep she'd managed to get had been plagued by nightmares about books and machines, promises and betrayals, adra and copper and blood. And when sleep had failed her, she'd squirmed in her bedroll, tossing and turning and sweating and groaning. And thinking-- lots of thinking.

But in spite of it all-- perhaps, in fact, because of her sleeplessness-- her awareness felt bizarrely heightened. It reminded her of her all-night research sessions in her old college life: standing there practically vibrating from murkbrew and nervous energy, feeling simultaneously like she was strong enough to lift a horse over her head and like she was about to collapse. Scrutinizing the drunken old salt, she squinted resolutely against her headache, determined not to let anything escape her notice.

Axa saw the gnarled fingers, knotted with age, and she watched the unsteady, drunken gesticulations that spilled her favorite wine onto the cobwebs and mouse shit that decorated her Great Hall. But she also saw that the hand itself was steady: not tremulous, but strong and sure. The half-lidded, drink-addled eyes took a while to fully focus, but once he managed to fix his gaze on hers, she could see a remarkably fierce little twinkle in his mischievous eyes.

"Engrim, you said your name is?"

"Pretty much everyone calls him Eld Engrim," Edér drawled, leaning against a stone pillar while fiddling with his pipe. "He's from around here somewhere, but he tends t' spend most of his time on the sea. Or in whichever tavern's nearest. Probably came in from Anslog's Compass lookin' for a little shore leave, ended up owin' someone a favor and havin' to hoof it all the way out here for 'em." Despite the content of his introduction, the farmer spoke with fondness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled warmly at the old man. "That sound about right, Eld Engrim?"

The old sailor cackled and nodded, clutching his empty goblet in front of himself with both hands like a talisman. "Aye, laddie, ye've got me fairly figured! Masons in yer Vale promised me a fine bottle o' spirits should I answer 'em this missive from oul' Caed Nua, abandoned all these long years. Although, ye did neglect t' address me Mistress, heathen that ye be, She whose spark 'n flame lit me way here!" He winked obnoxiously and wagged a crooked finger at the Eothasian, like a grandfather teasingly scolding his grandson.

Axa had not missed the telltale signs of a Magranite priest. The smell, in particular, of singed hair and arcane flame had tipped her off.

"You didn't think the priesthood of Ondra might suit you better?" Aloth's lip curled with disgust as he regarded the man, glaring at him over the edge of his grimoire. He had been broody all morning, Axa had noticed, and the elf seemed particularly irritated by the old lush.

"Not if he's a cannoneer," Kana suggested. "I can see where you might get Ondra-- the sea, drink and forgetfulness, those common themes-- but many who work with munitions, and especially ships, keep a Magranite priest on their payroll for their beneficial healing magic as well as for their blessings on and expertise with explosives." He grinned toothily at the elf, beaming with intellectual pride.

Aloth twitched, then spoke in a calm, low voice behind his gritted teeth. "If that's the case, why is he here running errands for stonemasons in Gilded Vale instead of mumbling over a double bronzer or something somewhere out on the sea?"

Axa turned her attention to her guest. "Good question, actually. Maybe you'd care to tell me a bit more about yourself while we make our way back to Gilded Vale, Engrim?"

The old man's eyes bugged out of his head, flicking back and forth between the orlan and his empty goblet. "Och, young miss, ye cannae mean t' be gettin' t' Gilded Vale now! 'Tis a day's sojourn, an' rovin' bands o' bandits roam o'er th' roads, Magran bash 'n burn 'em! An' 'ave only just arrived, me!" He looked around at her companions' faces, groping wildly for support, and found only pity and scorn for this man foolish enough to think to argue with her.

"He... does speak true, my lady." The Steward's voice rang out gently from the halls of the old keep. "No guard patrols have been dispatched along Caed Nua's surrounding roads since old Maerwald's decline into madness, and the paths surrounding the estate have been infested with brigands and monsters alike." As her voice faded, a soft little blanket of sadness settled over the gathered kith like a light dusting of snow.

Axa shuddered. "All the more reason, then, to get going. For better or worse, this keep is mine now, my responsibility." She paused, vaguely unnerved as she perceived the Steward's blush of surprise, followed closely by a soft, tentative gratitude. "The only people I can count on to restore my barbican are not, apparently, ready to take me seriously, so it seems I must issue my orders face to face. And I need this barbican restored. Unless, of course, Aedelwan Bridge is no longer flooded?"

Engrim shrugged, fiddled with the stem of his goblet, shuffled his feet. "Nae, no, 'tis... 'tis nae flooded..."

"It's destroyed," Kana chirped. "Ondra's mighty fist at work! I learned from a traveling hunter just the other day. The Dyrwood can't seem to steer clear of the gods' wrath, can--"

"We're going to Gilded Vale, today. Right now." Axa paused, hand on her hip, and then downed the remainder of her wine, time of day notwithstanding. She almost flung the empty bottle to the floor in a fit of pique, but then remembered the Steward, and quickly tamped down her temper. "...I want this barbican fixed. I want to get to Defiance Bay. By the Wheel, if the only way to get it done is to do it myself, I will."

No one could argue with that.

---

It was a satisfying sound, the scuffle of boots and the shouts of workers. Especially, Axa thought, when you know they're going to work for you. Although she knew the work couldn't begin for another day or two, Axa still felt a distinct sense of accomplishment as she strode out of the Hound, listening to the masons hustling behind her.

"Well, considerin' how drunk they all were, I'm surprised that went as well as it did." Edér clapped the little woman on the shoulder, grinning broadly and chewing gently on the stem of his pipe.

Aloth's voice drifted to her over her opposite shoulder. "Indeed, especially after the third time they addressed their questions to Edér and not to you, despite your repeated and... exponentially sonorous objections."

"Let it be known that the new Lady of Caed Nua does not suffer fools gladly," Kana proclaimed. "Although, speaking of fools... I can't help but notice the sun is setting, Caed Nua is almost a full day's hike away, and we're... leaving the inn?"

Axa smiled. "Remember we met Aufra on our way in? I offered to stay with her tonight, cook her some dinner, keep her company. I trust none of you object?"

No one did. She paused, and when she spoke again, she was much more subdued, almost somber.

"Last time I saw her, I was telling her her potion was horseshit and the fate of her unborn babe's soul was up to the caprices of the gods. Least I can do now is put my money where my mouth is and be the good neighbor that girl needs right now."

They walked in silence for a short stretch.

"If I'm bein' honest-- and I actually am, sometimes-- I been noticin' a lotta changes around here since we got back. Lot more smilin' people in the streets." Edér strolled up beside Axa, his blond whiskers quirking up with his grin. "Wasn't like that before you showed up. ...'Course, there is still that tree fulla dead bodies in the center of town..."

Kana winced. "Yes, I was wondering about that--"

"It's a long and gruesome tale." The man in the green cloak stepped out into the road, and Axa stopped dead in her tracks, placing herself between the stranger and her companions. "But I'd tell it, if you'd listen. You and the good Lady both."

"Kolsc." Edér whispered, surprised, but not angry. Axa's gaze flicked up to the stranger's face as he limped closer.

---

"...Did I fuck this up?"

Edér looked up from his whittling, focusing his good eye on the little woman. The other eye was still swollen shut, shiny and painful from their fight against his late Lord, but with some rest and the help of Raedric's priests-- Kolsc's priests, now-- he and the rest of his friends would be good as new for the trek back to Caed Nua tomorrow.

"Ain't too many ways I can think of to fuck up killin' a terrible murderin' bastard like Raedric," he mumbled around his mouthful of smoke, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Unless y' think we didn't kill him enough, or somethin'."

Axa's lips smiled, but the rest of her face did not follow suit. Her party was spending the night in a corner of the Berathian priests' sleeping quarters in Raedric's sanctuary, and she sat on her borrowed bed gently rocking to and fro, her knees drawn up to her chest, her sharp little nails worrying tiny holes in her trousers.

"The Legacy makes men mad. Perhaps it does worse to women. I do not know." Raedric had looked Axa over, then, had glanced toward his bedchamber where his own wife lay dead in their marital bed--

"No, we killed him exactly the right amount, I think." The smile was already gone, soundly quashed by the ugly memory. "I just... feel like I may have acted in haste here. Like there's something I'm missing about all this that's going to bite me in the ass later, when I least expect it." She pressed her chin into her knees, curling up as tightly into herself as she could.

--if i make myself small enough i can just hide away from all this and no one will see me--

Kana chuckled, idly leafing through a massive tome that dwarfed even his sizable lap as he reclined in the worn armchair next to Axa's bed. "Yes, it is a rough sea, the world of the ruling class! So many nerve-wracking social calculations to make, always looking over one's shoulder... The political alliances to take into account, then the family alliances, the religious affiliations... But even the Ranga Nui himself and his own son are at ideological odds! And if you're discovered as a fair-weather friend, paying lip service to either or both--"

"I think," Aloth interrupted, "perhaps, that you've made your point, Kana." The elf was just as irritable now as he had been the morning that old drunk had showed up at Caed Nua, and his half-healed broken rib was not helping to improve his mood.

And now the in-fighting begins in the esteemed Lady of Caed Nua's exclusive inner circle. Axa felt her guts redouble their efforts to destroy themselves, anxiety churning inside her like acid. "Gods, I'm ill-suited for this politicking horseshit. Why did I think I could do this? I'm Ixamitec, we don't... nobody 'owns' land, that's not how--"

"Oh, don't get me wrong!" Kana pressed on, seemingly oblivious to Aloth's peevish attitude. "Just as hard lands forge strong people, rough seas often yield great rewards. For instance, when we return to Caed Nua on the morrow, we can look forward to seeing your Brighthollow manse restored to its former beauty and prestige! Well, in part, anyway. All because of your actions here today and Kolsc's gratitude!"

"And even if you weren't gettin' somethin' out of it," Edér added, "you're the kinda lady can't rest without knowing you did the best thing y' could. Point being, y' had to do something, long-term consequences be damned. And like I said earlier, if y' have to do something, it's hard to go wrong with killing a mass-murdering shitheel like Raedric. No matter how bad Kolsc might turn out to be, better him than what we had goin' on before." He casually brushed the wood shavings from his lap, either ignoring or unaware of the annoyed glares and whispers from the priests in the room.

Axa glanced across the room at Aloth, who simply lay on his back in his bed in the corner, eyes screwed shut, his grimoire too heavy to hold in his lap without irritating his wounds. "Maybe," she sighed, lifting her head from her knees, "I should just hire on an advisor. Someone who actually knows what they're doing, to help me navigate these choppy waters." Her gaze flicked to Kana, a wicked little grin popping up on her face. "You know anyone who needs a job?"

The aumaua laughed, a thunderous noise that filled the small room. "Everyone I know is either in this room or in Rauatai, my friend! But I take your meaning. However, my own experience with the gentry is limited to the court of the Ranga Nui, a profoundly different environment from the one in which you find yourself, so I'm afraid I'd be more of a hindrance than a boon. And--" He glanced over at Edér, his smile half apologetic and half cheeky-- "I hope he'll forgive me for saying so, but our Edér doesn't seem like the sort to hobnob with the nobility."

The folk man snorted. "What tipped y' off?"

"That leaves you, Aloth," Kana continued, smiling in the elf's direction. "If I recall, you were raised among the gentry in Aedyr, were you not? That's a bit closer to the political system and aristocratic power structure here; any insight you have into that world would surely be invaluable to our Watcher. You're qualified, intelligent, you're clearly quite learned, you're... capable in battle. Why, you even came to the Dyrwood with the express purpose of finding a patron!" He was getting excited now, leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating passionately. "And here she is! What marvelous serendipity!"

Axa couldn't help but be charmed by Kana's enthusiasm, and she appreciated his effort to lift the wizard's spirits. "That's not a bad idea, actually. What say, Aloth?" She couldn't see his face from where he lay, but she could see his ears were bright red.

Not a fan of being the center of attention, I see. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy and warmth towards the man, and found her own ears reddening soon thereafter.

"I wouldn't take the gig 'f I were you. She can't even pay you, 's what I heard." Edér winked at her, taking his attention away from his whittling for just a second, then hissed with pain and surprise as his knife slipped.

Kana shook his head, his grin as wide as ever as he regarded the farmer with pity. "O, poor man! He who thinks coin is the sole and lone benefit of working for a prestigious, powerful woman like our Watcher! The true rewards of such a vocation are not in material wealth, my friend, but in the challenge! Rebuilding the glorious Caed Nua from the crumbling ruins... The intrigue of the political world of the Dyrwood... the tension, the drama... not to mention the treasure trove of ancient Engwithan secrets just waiting to be discovered in the Endless Paths!" He sighed like a lovestruck maiden telling her friends of her handsome beau. "Ah! I'm so envious. Were I more well-suited to the position, I'd have accepted her first offer in an instant! As it is, it seems I'll have to settle for hired muscle. Either way, I couldn't ask for a finer directress!" Now Axa's entire face was getting warm, and she found herself unable to look at Kana, although she could feel his eyes on her, his smile, warming her like gentle spring sunlight.

"Aye, I wager ye'd leap at a position 'neath 'er, slick-a-britches."

Aloth very quickly clapped a hand over his open mouth-- the loud pop! filling the little room-- and then came the long, shuddering groan of pain muffled behind his fingers, the sudden movement having yanked at his sore ribs.

Axa immediately flopped over onto her side, laughing like Hel, unable and unwilling to stop herself. Edér's eyebrows leapt up his forehead, surprise and delight clear on his face, chuckling through his nose due to the wounded thumb in his mouth.

"...She seems impressed. I think you've got the job, my friend!" Kana quipped, flipping to a new page in his gigantic book. He paused, considering, and then leaned forward in his seat, cocking his head with curiosity. "...Did you say 'slick-a-britches'?"

"No. I didn't. I said nothing." The elf's voice was quiet and short and clipped. "I'm in immense pain and I'm speaking complete and utter idiotic meaningless nonsense. ...Can we please talk about anything else." Axa was still giggling, tip of her tongue sticking out between her front teeth. He squirmed with embarrassment, and it hurt.

"As you say. How about this animancy research?" The scholar lifted the huge tome on his lap, tilting it up to show Edér as he crossed the room to wash and wrap his thumb. "I'm no animancer, to be sure, but from what little I've managed to decipher from Osyra's records, she may have been onto something!"

Aloth bristled, his breath hitching in his chest as he exhaled a bit too sharply. He had said 'anything else,' hadn't he. "All any animancer has accomplished, at the very best, is to swell their own ego and their own coinpurse. In particular, Osrya was a dangerous, insane monster who mutated kith into abominations. I have no interest whatsoever in reading anything that woman may have seen fit to record."

Anyone else would take the man's curt tone and disparaging language as the opposite of an invitation to continue. Kana continued with renewed gusto, "But if what Osrya posits is true-- and as far as I can tell, her methods are logically sound, if not morally-- why, then this may just provide the solution to the Legacy that the Dyrwood has been searching for these long years!"

Axa had stopped laughing a while back, but only now did she sit back up. She remembered the animancer's words, recited them aloud with an accuracy she would not ordinarily expect from herself--

"It must be a localized effect. Something which strips the soul from a body, as the bîaŵacs are known to do. I have detected, even so, lingering traces of essence upon the bodies of so-called Hollowborn. This suggests that the soul itself has not been wholly destroyed. It remains, I think, intact somewhere."

Everyone-- even Aloth, lifting his head from his pillows-- looked at her, dumbstruck. The few priests remaining in the room hurriedly shuffled out, angrily whispering prayers to ward their souls against blasphemy.

"Um." She coughed, suddenly uncomfortably self-conscious. "That was... what she had to say, anyway. Before we had to kill her. ...If I'm remembering correctly."

"That's... what's in here, more or less, yes," Kana blurted, his ever-present grin tinged with nervousness as he shut the enormous book.

"So, what," Edér drawled, squinting at his half-finished carving as he turned it this way and that, "Hollowborn got a soul, but... somethin' or, or someone takes it from 'em soon as they're born?" He furrowed his brow, frowned at a blotch of red on the misshapen wooden thing in his hand. "And... what, hides 'em somewhere? Eats 'em? Why?"

"That would depend, it seems, on who or what is manipulating the souls, I would think." Kana actually frowned, now, staring blankly into the book. "Although I'd be hard-pressed to identify a creature capable of manipulating souls on this grand a scale, for this long, with this much apparent ease and consistency... short of, perhaps, a god." He glanced furtively at Edér, holding up his huge hands in deference. "Not that I'm attempting to implicate any particular deity..."

The farmer shook his head slowly, eyes shut tight with conviction. "Don't worry about me thinkin' that. Like I said before-- I can't and won't believe that Eothas was the kinda god would do somethin' like this."

"Do you believe, then, as some in your country do, that the recent prevalence of animancy is to blame?" The scholar was fumbling for a bit of charcoal, now, eager to take notes. "Keep in mind, the Vailian Republics has not suffered a similar Hollowing despite being the leading animancy practitioners on Eora--"

"Whether the recent uptick in animancy has caused the Legacy by inviting the ire of the gods is nigh impossible to know, and thus pointless to discuss," Aloth interjected, "although I certainly wouldn't put it past many of the gods to come up with a bizarre, horrific punishment like the Legacy in retribution for any slight from us kith, real or perceived.” He glanced balefully at the door the Berathians had shut behind them as they’d left. “What can be meritoriously discussed is what to do about the unbridled, barely educated charlatans taking advantage of a terrified and exhausted populace, using the Hollowborn crisis to feed their sick curiosity and their pocketbooks both. That is the everyday reality of animancy that must be dealt with in the Dyrwood, for the good of the citizenry." He winced in pain, his impassioned argument a bit too much for his battered body. "...Ahem. In my opinion."

"I don't think I know enough about any of it to have much of an opinion about it, bein' honest." Edér scratched the back of his neck, squinting in confusion as Kana eagerly copied down the conversation, his attention ping-ponging excitedly between each successive speaker. "I feel like that whole world is way, way beyond my ken. Might have to leave the thinkin’ to you on that, Boss Lady." He smiled over at the orlan, glad to see her relaxing and engaging with other kith instead of clutching her knees and staring into the middle distance. He'd seen enough of that during the Saint's War. "...Although some of 'em are tryin' to do somethin' about the Legacy, at least. I guess. This animancer was a crazy piece of shit, but she's also the only animancer I ever really chatted with, 's far's I know. So I don't really got a lot to go on. Y'know?"

"Caldara was sweet, and extremely helpful." Axa felt an odd little tug of nostalgia at the memory of the dwarf, her warm, motherly smile. "Of course, she was also dead when I met her. So you'll kind of have to take my word for it. That said, ultimately I have to agree with you, Edér: I don't know enough about animancy to pass any sort of judgment on it just yet. It seems potentially useful, perhaps even miraculously so, but also extremely volatile and dangerous." The little woman paused, stretching her sore limbs, and then laid back down on the bed with a long, cathartic sigh. "Perhaps once we reach Defiance Bay, we can get a clearer picture of what the day-to-day animancy trade is really like. Until then, I must, in good conscience, reserve all judgment on the subject."

"A wise and prudent choice, but indecision is a heavy burden. Never let it be said that our Watcher takes the easy way out!" Kana rose from his seat as he spoke, seeing that the orlan was getting ready to settle in for the night, and crossed the room to his loaner bed. "Speaking of hardships, I've heard tell that the poor weather over the last few days may have delayed the work on Caed Nua's eastern barbican. If, once we return, we find that to be the case... and if you're amenable to a bit of dungeon crawling after all this fresh air and sunshine..."

Axa half-groaned and half-laughed, like a good-natured mother finally losing patience with her annoying toddler. "Yes, Kana, I promise we will explore the Endless Paths. I already promised you before, too, remember?"

"Forgive me!" Kana chuckled as he reclined, his feet dangling over the edge of the too-small bed. "I don't mean to wheedle you, rest assured. But once I get an idea in my head, I tend to focus on it so intently as to neglect politesse!"

"We've noticed," Aloth grumbled.

The massive aumaua turned to Aloth in the bed next to his, smiling still. "That reminds me-- I've never heard that one before, 'slick-a-britches'. Did you mean to say I slicken others' breeches-- or britches, as you say-- or did you mean my own breeches are slick? As in, ah, lubricated for easier removal?” The giant snickered like a naughty schoolboy telling dirty jokes after dark in the dormitory. “Ondra’s jowls, I didn't even know you spoke Hylspeak! You must teach me some!" He wore no malice on his face, only open, honest joy and wonder-- and for some reason that bothered Aloth more than if the aumaua had been displaying naked hostility.

Axa cackled maniacally in her bed, thrashing her limbs and rolling about. In lieu of responding, Aloth slowly, deliberately pulled his coverlet up over his chin, then his nose, then his brow. His facial expression did not change.

---

It was a lovely sound, the sound of carpenters and masons plying their trades. Engrim found they sounded even lovelier with a drink in his hand and cool shade under his arse, so that's how he had elected to enjoy the afternoon while he supervised the renovations.

Now that the storm clouds had finally shoved off-- and the Little Mistress was back home with her companions, mucking about in that endless dungeon of hers-- the crew was hard at work clearing the last of the rubble and overgrown foliage from the eastern barbican's arched gateway and portcullis. By tomorrow evening, at long last, Caed Nua would have a beautifully restored barbican, allowing access to the Woodend Plains and Defiance Bay beyond. And in the meantime, Brighthollow was bustling with carpenters and porters, bringing freshly cut lumber and large, fine beds and bolts of cloth and rugs. Prettying up the Great Hall, restoring the barracks, hiring guards and posting patrols-- the fuzzy little thaynu and her stone steward had a plan for this place, and that meant that these laborers could look forward to quite a few more of these jobs and their generous pay.

Engrim smiled his gap-toothed smile, swirling his tankard of cider. It had been a gift for the Little Mistress, sent by a brewery newly under Kolsc's protection, and she had kindly opted to disperse it among the work crews before she and her party had descended into the depths under the castle.

Could get used tae this, me. If Ye'd allow fer a wee bit o' idleness, O Magran. Engrim chuckled to himself. He knew he ought to know better at his age than to press his luck with his goddess, but he just couldn't help himself, sometimes.

It took him a while to realize where the sound was coming from, because he wasn't expecting it to be behind him-- after all, he'd specifically chosen to sit in a place where he could keep an eye on all the work that he was supposed to be helping with. But then Engrim heard the scraping and scratching on the eastern side of the ruined chapel, heard the muffled shouts and the banging of fists against solid wood, and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling as quickly as his skinny old legs would carry him. He'd had to help dispatch some of the beasties and spirits that had managed to wander up from the depths of the Endless Paths once or twice already, but they'd always crawled up from the dungeons, inside the keep. That these old bulkhead doors were connected to anywhere, let alone to the Paths, hadn't occurred to anyone.

Until now. Engrim squared his shoulders and planted his feet, readied his staff, whispered a prayer to the Lady of Battle. Waited and watched as the heavy wooden doors shook with the force of a mighty blow from within.

Thump. "Harder, damn it! Or, no, wait-- is there a mechanism holding it shut? Give him some light, Aloth!"

The old priest felt his eyes bug out of his head. 'Tis 'erself! The Little Mistress' voice was unmistakable.

"Certainly, just a moment, please..." And the sound of her elf lad kissing her arse all but confirmed it. Engrim rushed forward, dropping to his rickety old knees in front of the doors, his hands scrabbling at the weathered, graying wood.

"Watcher! Mistress!"

Shocked silence hung in the air for a moment, then: "Engrim!? Thank the gods! ...We have reached the surface!"

"There is a mechanism," her aumaua rumbled, his voice thunderous even behind the thick doors. "A... surprisingly simple one, actually. If I had some light--"

"I said I'm working on it," Aloth snapped, and a moment later the cracks in the doors lit up from within. Engrim squinted against the glare, laid his hands on the twisting, smothering ivy and the dried-up, half-dead rose bushes choking the splintering planks. He furrowed his wrinkled brow, concentrated, began to burn the vegetation away with a care and precision that betrayed his years and level of sobriety.

And before long, the doors were flung wide for the first time in hundreds of years, and the Watcher of Caed Nua and her loyal allies emerged from the Endless Paths.

"Engrim, please tend to Edér; he needs healing badly." Kana gently lowered the farmer to the ground, his blond hair streaked brownish-red with blood, head rolling loose on his shoulders, and Engrim rushed to meet him with a powerful restorative blessing on his boozey breath.

"By the ricketin' Wheel, yer lot's flame's lookin' half-snuffed yerselves!" In truth, all four of them were bleeding and bruised, clutching at their various wounds and limping, although Edér was easily the worst off of the lot. "What in Hel did ye find doon in them depths?"

"Ogres. There were crazed, violent ogres," Axa rasped. "And looters who attacked us on sight. And a tribe of xaurips. And their drake." She glared at Kana, anger smoldering. "And you wanted to press on?"

No one present had ever heard Kana speak so softly. "I-- I only remarked on the changing architecture, I didn't mean to imply we ought--"

"Spirits, too. Ghosts only I could see, only I could hear." The little woman carried on, her voice rising steadily in pitch and volume. "A pool of blood and viscera. Ancient catacombs full of giant insects and... and animated corpses. And an enormous adra-and-copper statue of a man."

"Or at least th' head," Edér mumbled, now fully conscious again though still bloodied and reeling. "Copper mustache. Heh."

Axa was at his side in an instant, kneeling next to the farmer, taking one calloused hand in between her own. "Don't speak, Edér. Save your strength."

"...'M not that bad, am I?" He managed a weak smile, tried to look at her eyes, but couldn't seem to get his vision to focus. Multiple images of the orlan danced and swam in front of him, and he found that the more he tried to get one of her to stand still, the harder it became to concentrate on staying awake.

Looking at him in full light, Axa felt her stomach drop: his dilated pupils, his unfocused gaze. He's definitely concussed. Gods, we're lucky we found that Master Staircase when we did. "Perhaps," she smiled softly, "I'm being a little hyperbolic. You just look half dead, is all."

The farmer huffed a short, sharp laugh as he let his eyes slide shut. "Work that charm on me, Watcher."

"Kana." Her ire toward the aumaua had receded, but not entirely, and her sharp tone reflected it. "Help Engrim get Edér inside. Stay with him and keep him talking. I'm... I think I have to stay out here for a bit. I kind of need to see the sky right now."

The huge man tried to smile at Axa but found the attempt futile, turning to her only to see her lying on her back in the grass, staring listlessly into the zenith. So he smiled at Edér instead, gently lifting the man by his armpits and guiding him toward Brighthollow, Engrim loping alongside.

He watched them go, and once he was sure they were alone, Aloth slowly, cautiously drew up beside the prone woman. He knelt, rolled his ankle, stumbled, recovered, decided to sit on the ground instead.

"Axa, are you... are you going to be alright?" He winced. What an insightful, intelligent question to ask, Corfiser; my, you're good at this--

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" she croaked, although the sharpness that was in her voice for Kana was replaced with a gentler tone for Aloth. He noticed, and the resulting burst of self-satisfaction tinged with guilt made him think of his school days, his teachers who played favorites, how he feared them and craved their approval both.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm-- I'll apologize to Kana later, too, I'm just... tired right now. Scared." She tried to smile, grimaced instead. "Cranky."

"Well--" Aloth twisted his fingers together into tight, trembling knots of knuckles and sweat-- "Well. You've been under some... significant stress as of late, it's true, but I can't help but notice you sometimes... struggling. S-seeming to have some difficulty coping." He glanced from his hands in his lap to the ground to his hands to the woman on the ground. "I... I just want to make sure that you're alright to... continue this."

Axa sighed as deeply as her little lungs would allow, her half-lidded eyes still fixed on the heavens. "I don't know," she said at last. "I don't even really know what this is, this... new path I'm on. By the Visions, two weeks ago I was living an entirely different life! Now I'm a Watcher, a member of the Dyrwoodan gentry, I'm Awakened..."

"You've a lot on your plate, to be certain," he murmured, hoping he came off as compassionate and not dismissive. He scooted along the ground as delicately as any kith could scoot, until he was sitting alongside the woman. They still had a decent amount of distance between them, but at least now he could see her face. She did not look at him.

"I feel like I don't... know who I am, anymore." Her usually robust, confident voice quavered. "Like this is someone else's life in which I've had to take up residence. None of this feels like it's truly mine, but it definitely feels like it's all my responsibility. None of which I ever, ever asked for."

"Aye, I conne the feelin', lass." Aloth felt the words slip out, and then immediately regretted allowing them to, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, Axa was sitting up. "You can't help it, can you."

His heart, his stomach, his brain-- all felt as though they'd suddenly been submerged in ice water, and as she turned to him with her piercing fuchsia gaze, he half expected her to simply state aloud all of his deceptions and treacheries like some Woedican judge, her Watcher abilities having allowed her to see through all of his pitiful excuses and flimsy lies.

But instead of anger or accusation or judgment, what he saw in her eyes was... relief, almost. Wonder. "The Hylspeak. You can't help it. That's why you keep doing it, even when I've asked you to quit. Or when it's gotten you in trouble. That's why you want to go to Defiance Bay with me. With us. To find someone who can help you stop. Isn't it?"

"I-- I don't-- I was just trying to--" He sputtered and stammered, subconsciously drawing his limbs in close to his torso in an anxious, defensive hunch. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. He was caught, it seemed, but... not? Somehow? He fidgeted and trembled and averted his eyes from hers, unable to bear the little woman's gaze, her sad little smile as she rose to her feet and stood next to him.

And he jumped, much to his chagrin, when he felt her hand on his back. "Aloth. You can trust me. I want you to trust me. And you don't have to explain anything to me. We all have our reasons for... keeping certain things to ourselves." She gave him a knowing smile. "However, it seems that the skeletons in your closet are a bit... louder than most others'?"

He knew, of course, what she was really trying to say. How long did you think you could keep it a secret from me? I'm not stupid, and you're not exactly subtle. "It's... a problem I've had since I was a child." He sighed shakily, sagging with fatigue as he shrugged off this small portion of his heavy burden at last. "And in Aedyr, it's not the kind of thing you take your child to a healer about. Not unless you want him institutionalized... or worse."

Axa gave him a hard look, as though he had set the policy in place himself. "I see. That explains why you came to the Dyrwood for a cure." She perked up abruptly as a thought struck her. "...You know, it's a rather gratifying feeling, figuring all this out about you. It explains so much!" She smiled again, and he found himself feeling annoyed and charmed simultaneously. He'd expected either pity or disgust, and when he got curiosity instead, he felt oddly slighted. I'm not a puzzle to be solved...!

A lascivious chortle. 'She gettin' ye all fired oop, laddie?'

He shut his eyes again, curled himself up tightly. "Axa, while I am grateful for your patience with me, and your understanding regarding my... condition, I would truly appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us. I'm... it's been a long, long time since I've really talked about this with anybody, and I don't think I'm quite ready for a full roundtable discussion regarding my mental health just yet." He glared in the direction of Brighthollow. "Not with those two, anyway. And not anymore, at all, today. Please."

"I had a feeling you were starting to reach your limit of how much you're willing to talk about it." She relented finally, lifting her little hand from between his shoulders, and he felt the weight of her scrutiny lift off of him as well. "And I'm reaching my limit of how much time I'm willing to waste feeling sorry for myself on the lawn. Come, let's get inside, get our wounds tended, check up on Edér. We'll take a day and a half to rest up and get ready, let them finish working on the barbican. Then we'll set off for the city."

Aloth rose to his feet, brushed dirt and grass from his trousers. "In my official capacity as your advisor, I wholeheartedly approve your plan, my Lady." She scoffed, laughing, and he didn't try to suppress his victorious grin. "And... upon arriving?"

She started off toward her busy little manse, the carpenters and masons gawking at the bloody, dirty little orlan with alarm. "I'll know what to do when I get there, I'm sure," she called out to the elf over her shoulder.

He sighed, picking up the pace in an effort to catch up with her. "I was afraid you'd say that."

---

"I'll know when I get there, he says," the little woman muttered to herself, leaning against the old signpost, thumbing through her bag of bone arrowheads. "Yeah. I'm sure. ...When am I gonna learn, Itumaak?"

The fox yawned in response, licked his snowy chops, and Sagani heaved a weary sigh. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to make camp.

The sun was staring to set, and the cooling air brought a refreshing breeze to the little hunter's brow. And in the wind came not only respite from the heat, but information-- smells of nature, smells of kith. Sagani could smell new rain clouds already queueing up, eager to take the place of the last ones that had just departed, but hopefully not so eager as to open up on her tonight. She could not smell any other campfires nearby, so she figured she had a halfway decent chance of getting a good night's rest undisturbed by surprise guests. She was about to say something to Itumaak, head off the road in search of a quiet spot to set up, when she looked down at him--

-- and found him standing at alert, his head cocked to the side just so, ears pricked. Sagani listened, her breath completely still in her chest.

"A bear? You were whittling a bear? I thought it was a horse!" She'd only ever heard a voice that deep and booming on an aumaua man before, and the Rauataian accent all but confirmed it.

"You ever seen a horse before?" This was a different voice, not as throaty, but still definitely an adult man, a Dyrwoodan. Sagani reached slowly for her pack, not sure yet whether to grab the adra carving or an arrow.

"Whatever it was-- is-- we'll pick it back up the next time we head down there. With some hirelings, Kana." A woman's voice now, bold and clear. Sagani found the adra carving in her hand when she drew it back to her fore, and she gazed into it.

Cold and dead. Just like always, these past few months.

"Please tell me we're not going back down into that gods-cursed dungeon solely for a half-finished wooden carving of a bear..." Sagani almost didn't hear the Aedyran, she was so disappointed by her poor fortune, but the comically coincidental "carving of a bear" comment made her at least lift her head to regard the group of kith approaching her. Itumaak was bored and anxious, and he fidgeted and whined at Sagani's hip, looking up at her with his big black eyes.

The huntress sighed as she watched the little party notice her. More friendly travellers, I'm certain. Let's just get this little introduction over with.

"Relax, Itumaak. It's not him."

---

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #next chapter: ?????????? uhhh

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ftb-writes · 4 years

Text

Okay, here’s the Skyrim fic! It’s got chapters! Sorry it’s late!

“Listener! Let’s kill someone!”

Sref sighed as he entered the Sanctuary in Dawnstar. This was not his day. “Later, Cicero,” he murmured, motioning the jester away, but the red-haired man skipped along next to him as he went to distribute the loot. With a job this big, everyone in the Brotherhood could eat for a week; Sref was more than willing to share with such a large sum.

Cicero babbled on about what Sref had missed while on the contract. Sref, to be honest, was only half-listening. His entire body ached, and he silently popped his shoulder. He knew he should take a day off, go to a quiet place for a wolf hunt. The beast inside was getting twitchy.

Nazir smiled at Sref as he and Cicero entered the dining hall. “Ah, Listener! You’re back!” the Redguard greeted warmly, and Babette let out a squeal and hurried to pull out a chair for Sref.

“Listener!” she cried, and Sref smiled despite his mood and aches. “How was it? What was it like? Why did it take so long?”

“One at a time, Babi, one at a time!” Sref sat with an appreciative groan. “It was like every other contract in Falkreath since the move. As for my tardiness, I had business to attend to as the Dragonborn.”

“We know, you were holding a peace conference. We already heard.” Nazir smiled again. “We’re here for you, Listener, should you need anything.”

Sref looked at the three gathered around the table, then past to the new bloods trying to look uninterested and failing, and felt his throat constrict. He blinked back tears as memories of flames and his parents’ screams came rushing back.

“Listener?”

Sref gazed at Cicero in a momentary daze before he shook himself. “I’m fine. This is my responsibility, and I’m going to deal with it.” He stood, turning toward the stairs. “Excuse me.”

The chill of the wind blowing off the water helped calm his roiling emotions. Sref took a deep breath, before he knelt and scraped away a patch of snow to the dirt beneath. He stared at it a moment and whispered, “Yol.”

A small flame sprouted in front of him, and Sref flinched instinctively, the flames puffing out.

He relit the fire several times, until the word came smoothly and the flinching stopped and a hand touched his arm. “Sref?”

The dark elf jumped, reaching up to scrub away unwanted tears. “What?” When he looked up, it was to meet chocolate irises.

Chocolate brought even worse memories.

Sref turned away and snapped, “What, Cicero?”

The jester was uncharacteristically silent. “No jokes, no songs,” Sref snarled, “nothing?”

Cicero looked down at his feet and knelt by Sref’s side. “Who did you lose, Listener? Cicero has seen the same look in your eyes in the eyes of many others.”

Sref stared for a moment before sniffing loudly and wiping his nose. “My parents. Fire when I was twelve.”

Cicero pulled a small, bloodstained rag out of a hidden pocket. He carefully unwrapped it to reveal a lock of hair curled delicately within. “Her name was Alisanne.”

“Alisanne Dupre. I read –” Sref swallowed. Best Cicero did not know Sref had read his journals. “The last Listener.”

Cicero forced a smile that was much too sad for him. “Cicero loved her. Before Cicero was the jester, the laughter.” Cicero glanced up to meet Sref’s gaze and there was, for a moment, a spark of sanity in his eyes. It was gone in a blink, and Cicero tucked the memento away carefully. “What were they like? The Listener’s parents?”

Sref frowned. “They were simple folk, my parents. Mother was a healer and alchemist, and Father was a farmer. Made a good team. Doing honest work.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Divines, but I was a mischievous child. Kept them on their toes, but they always encouraged me to do what I did best. What the Divines put me here to do.”

Cicero was silent before murmuring, “What Sithis put you here to do.”

Sref smiled. “Yes, exactly. At least, they encouraged me up until the Red Mountain exploded.”

“Did Listener – did Sref – have any other family?”

“A sister,” Sref answered simply. “We don’t really talk much anymore. She lives on Solstheim with the werewolf pack out there.”

The wind rattled Sref’s armlets quietly, and the noise drew both their gazes down.

“Dragon scales,” Sref explained, slipping one off to show Cicero. “They have an enchantment that protects against dragons. She made them for me.”

“Sref’s sister?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Bruqa. Wonder how she’s doing,” Sref muttered, turning to stare out toward the island.

“Sref should go out and see her before taking another job,” Cicero said. “Cicero will go with Sref, if he wants. Cicero will behave.”

Sref slid the armlet back on, still gazing out to sea, and smiled. “That – that sounds nice.”

“What’s this, Listener?”

Sref turned to see what the jester had found. Probably a daedric artifact. Only, when Sref found his gaze drawn to a pale-blue glow, he realized it wasn’t.

“This, Cicero, is a Word Wall,” Sref explained, moving closer to study the word it was offering him. “It’s how I learn shouts. This one’s remarkably well-preserved,” he murmured. “See this one here? This is Yol. It means fire. And this one, here, this is Viik, defeat. And here—”

Sref’s finger froze over a name, one Sref had become terribly familiar with.

“Sref,” Cicero asked, alarm building in his voice, “what’s wrong?”

Destroy. Devour. Master.

“This is Alduin’s name,” Sref whispered.

“Al-doo-een?” The jester frowned as he sounded it out. “The World Eater that Listener defeated?”

“It’s not well-preserved,” Sref realized with a jolt, “It’s new. Cicero, this wall depicts my battle with Alduin!”

“What’s this one?” Cicero pointed at a group of six words.

“Ah Laas Joor Dun Krii Mey. Hunter, life, mortal, grace, kill, and fool. That’s odd. Two names for one person.” Sref frowned and glanced around the rest of the sentence for clues before gasping. “Cicero, this is you! That’s your dragon name!”

“Cicero is on this wall?” The jester reached out a hand to brush over his name, his brow furrowed in thought. “Why would Cicero be here?”

Sref flushed. “I – I told Alduin I was saving this world because you were here.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, you know, since we’re…” Sref motioned between them as he trailed off.

“Lovers?” Cicero finished with a suggestive smirk.

“Cicero, you are not seducing me here, I refuse to have sex with you in a crypt!”

“Listener? Are you all right? The others are beginning to worry.”

Whenever things got too bad, Sref curled up in a corner of the abandoned, doorless panic room he was staying in and tried to calm himself down as best as he could. That’s what he was doing now, hugging his knees to his chest and doing his breathing exercises and counting to one-hundred for the forty-seventh time.

Sref froze before he could stop himself. ‘Calm,’ he told himself, ‘settle.’ “Yes, Cicero, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a moment.” 72. 73. 74.

“Are you sure, Listener? Nazir said if you haven’t calmed down by noon, he’s calling the skooma dealer.”

“I’m sure, Cicero, really,” Sref answered, his heart rate spiking at the thought of the alcohol. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79—

“Listener, Cicero is coming in.”

“Cicero, don’t—” Sref started to protest, but the jester had already entered. He curled up on the floor and began scratching behind Sref’s ears; the dark elf threw him a surprised glance before sighing and leaning into the touch.

“Better?” Cicero smiled as Sref nodded. “Cicero saw Astrid doing this when Arnbjorn would go too long and turn on accident. It seemed to calm him.” He moved his hand to Sref’s other ear, massaging his scalp along the way.

“Sithis, Cicero, but I love you,” Sref whispered, and Cicero froze.

“Sref,” Cicero sighed. “Cicero cannot—Cicero told that to someone once.” He took Sref’s face in his hands. “They died shortly after. Cicero, he is still hurting from her. Cicero does not want to tell Sref that and watch helplessly when Sref dies like she did.” Cicero tucked himself against Sref to let out a quiet sob.

Sref hushed him gently. “I understand, Cicero, truly. I can wait, I won’t force you.”

They were silent for a few moments, the dark elf just holding his jester close, before Sref spoke again.

“Why don’t we go visit Alisanne’s grave? You never got to give her a proper goodbye.”

Cicero smiled despite the tears still falling. “Sref is too kind to poor Cicero.”

Elusis Magard was a cruel old hag, and he had to kill her.

Sref was crouched just outside the doorway, bow in hand; honestly, in such a dangerous city, one shouldn’t leave their garden door open, no matter how hot.

Sref raised his bow, took a deep breath, and drew the arrow back. Time slowed down.

The bowstring sang as he loosed the arrow.

By the time the guards arrived at Magard’s house, Sref had collected the payment and was spurring his horse past Whiterun, halfway back to Dawnstar.

He slowed and frowned up at the walled city. Sref did need more daedric arrows. It would just be a quick stop. Pick up the arrows, maybe check on his house there. Back on the road.

No, Sref told himself. The others were expecting him back home that night, he didn’t have time. Sref could get arrows in Dawnstar.

Shadowmere nickered quietly, and Sref sighed. “You’re right, big girl, we should head back home.” He reached forward and patted the horse’s neck. “C’mon, let’s go.”

As he rode north, Sref leaned back and pulled out the tattered journal. He dated the next page; ‘Dear Mother,’ he wrote.

‘It’s me. How’s Father? Have you heard from Bruqa lately? I’m sorry I haven’t been home to visit in a while. Work has been keeping me busy. I’ll come visit soon, okay? I miss your apple and mint pies. I miss climbing trees in the orchard. I miss you guys. Maybe I’ll have some time off after this next job. Love you, Sref.’

He glanced up as he tucked the journal away. No dragons in sight.

“It’s too quiet, Shadowmere,” Sref murmured to the horse. Shadowmere huffed in response, and Sref sighed.

“Sithis, I’m tired,” he groaned, stretching. “Fuck being a werewolf, this is exhausting. I haven’t slept in months.” Maybe Babette knew a potion that would help.

“Wonder how Cicero’s doing, Shadowmere? I hope he’s behaving. When I get home, I’m gonna cuddle him so hard.” Shadowmere snuffled in response.

“Dovahkiin!” Sref stopped Shadowmere, startled, and Paarthurnax landed on the road in front of them.

The old dragon still rarely left the throat of the world, even after Alduin’s defeat, so for him to be here, on a seemingly ordinary day -- “What is it, Paarthurnax, what’s wrong?”

“Dovahkiin, Alduin has returned, and he is looking for you!”

Sref felt like he’d been doused with Frostbite Venom. “What? When did he get back?”

“Only a few weeks ago. I have been looking for you everywhere, Dovahkiin, where have you been?”

Sref started to answer, but paused, glancing at Shadowmere. “Around,” he surmised. “South by Falkreath recently.”

Paarthurnax frowned, and Sref was relieved when the dragon didn’t press the issue. “Well. He does not have the ability to end the world anymore, but I would still be wary, Dovahkiin. He may have gained other abilities in its place.”

“I will keep that in mind, Paarthurnax, thank you,” Sref told him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably get home.”

Paarthurnax nodded. “It would be wise,” he said in farewell, and took off, flying over Sref’s head before turning to wing his way east.

“We should hurry back, Shadowmere,” Sref tells the horse, spurring Shadowmere into a run and pulling out his dragon bone war hammer to lay it carefully across his lap.

There was no sign of Alduin the whole way back to Dawnstar. But when Sref entered the Sanctuary, there was a tall, dark-haired man waiting in the entrance room, across the table from Cicero, wearing strange armor -- dragonscale, but thick, black and red scales.

Cicero ran to meet Sref and whispered, “He only arrived a few minutes before you,” and Sref caught a flash of yellow in the stranger’s eyes when he turned to look at them. The Night Mother hissed behind her Listener, and Sref looped an arm around Cicero to pull the jester behind him while he drew his knife.

“Quite a life mate you have there, Dragonborn,” the stranger greeted with sickening sweetness. “I can see why you are so fond of him.”

“Hello, Alduin,” Sref grunted in return. Cicero drew his own knife behind Sref as the former World-Eater stood.

Alduin laughed. “I do not know what I find more amusing, Dovahkiin. That you are so protective of a mere Joor, or that you think those little toys of yours will hurt me.”

Sref opened his mouth to shout, and Alduin smiled. “Dragonrend will not work on me in this form, Dragonborn!”

“Joor Zah Frul!” Sref shouted anyway, and the Shout rolled off Alduin like water. “Fass! Liz! Fus!” Finally, in desperation, “YOL!”

The floor around Alduin caught fire, but Alduin appeared unharmed. Sref’s Shouts had attracted the others, who circled Alduin, thought he seemed unfazed by the assassins surrounding him.

“Yol,” the former World-Eater ordered lazily, and Sref shoved Cicero clear before the fire reached him. The werewolf howled in pain and fear, the fire catching his clothes and licking up his body. Sref heard Alduin shout something he couldn’t make out, and was slammed into the foot of the stairs up to the Night Mother’s coffin by a massive force. Sref could hear Cicero scream his name, and cracked an eye open to see Alduin descending on the jester.

Sref’s knife sank into the joint between Alduin’s cuirass and pauldron, and the dragon glanced down, reached up, and pulled it free to look at it, curious. He took a step toward Sref with a snarl, and was blown back by a purple mist that rocketed from behind Sref.

“Enough, Alduin,” a large voice cried, and Alduin scrambled upright.

“Lord Sithis,” Alduin stuttered, before the Dread Father interrupted.

“Silence, Child of Akatosh!” Alduin winced. “I gave you a second chance only because you promised to leave my children unharmed, even My Lady’s Listener.”

“But Great Sithis, I--”

“Hold your tongue, lest I tear it from you!” A growl echoed through the Sanctuary, and Alduin lowered his head with a curled lip. “I see now I was too quick to release you, despite Akatosh’s insistence. Perhaps I should strip you of your dragon blood completely, hmm? Make you Joor as well?”

Alduin looked back up, panic in his eyes. Sref was finally able to sit up, though his head still swam. ‘Are you still with us, my child,’ The Night Mother asked, and Cicero darted to Sref’s side to press a healing potion into his hand.

“I’m okay,” Sref assured them both, looping his arms around Cicero. “Are you alright,” he asked the jester.

“Cicero is unharmed,” his lover said. “Cicero’s just glad Sref is safe now.”

Sithis, in a long robe that obscured his face, stalked by Sref, and the Listener glanced between the Dread Father and Alduin as Sithis moved to block the Night Mother’s coffin from Alduin’s view. “Lord Sithis,” Sref greeted hoarsely.

“Rest, child; you are injured, and you must be shaken.” Sithis motioned for Sref to lay back down, and he leaned into Cicero and let himself shiver.

“Might I make a suggestion, Dread Father,” Sref started carefully, and was surprised when Sithis actually turned back to look at him properly. “Perhaps not mortality, but make him work to improve. Take certain abilities away if he refuses to behave.”

Alduin snarled, but Sithis hummed in thought. “Reward him for good behavior, like some sort of dog? That... may work, my child, very clever suggestion.”

‘Perhaps take it a step further, My Love,’ the Night Mother whispered. ‘Give Sref the power to control.’

“Oh, Darling, you are too cruel!” Sithis chuckled darkly as he turned back to Alduin. The former World-Eater tried to escape back up the stairs, but Sithis moved faster, coiling a collar of ebony around Alduin’s neck.

“Lord Sithis, please--” Alduin tried to beg, but Sithis cut him off.

“Quiet, Alduin, lest I call you back to the Void.” With a sigh, Sithis disappeared, and silence fell over the Sanctuary.

Alduin began to scream.

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talrayne · 4 years

Text

I was a young man who grew up in a small town in the woods. My parents didn't support my decision to learn magic in the city, they wanted me to continue helping them with the logging. They said that I would never do well if I went because I had trouble learning what they taught me.

The person who did say I would do well was the librarian. The town had a library purely because the lord that owned the area decided it would look good for him and keep people from rebelling.

Anyway, the librarian was the one who told me that if I ride with the trader next time he took off I'd be able to get to the city. He even wrote a recommendation. I had no idea who to bring it to, but I was more focused on leaving.

I was fortunate that my parents were busy when the trader left, and he was fine with me riding with him as long as I helped unload at his stops. I never said goodbye to my parents and that suited me fine. They had my siblings to help and only seemed to care about me when they needed my help.

It took a few stops, but I finally got to the city, a large amazing place. The first thing that hit me though was how alone I really was now. I was surprised at all the different kinds of people as I made my way to the college. I had to try not to stare at the elves' ears, the dwarves stature, the tiefling horns, and all the others that I saw.

I did learn quickly though that other humans were the only ones who would tell me anything without looking at me like I had been insulting them for the last hour. I didn't think anything of it then though. I figured it was because I was obviously not from the city.

It took some time and it was about noon when I finally got to the college. I had the recommendation in my hand, but I hesitated. What if my parents were right? That I could never keep up? A person with a semblance of self-confidence would have gone anyway. The letter in my sweaty hand should have convinced me that I had a chance.

I turned away. I was afraid of the rejection, of my parents being right. I was afraid that if I went up there, and they told me I wasn't wizard material, that I could never be anything more. I walked away, realizing that I had no plan either.

I realized that I needed to find some sort of work though. I decided to go to the marketplace. Maybe I could be an apprentice? Someone might give me a place to live and food to eat in return for working. Hopefully I could find something. I wasn't keen on starving in the streets.

It was while I was wandering that I met Al'hen, a jewel smith. I was admiring his work when he came up to me.

"Find anything that catches your eye?" he asked.

"Well, I mean it's all so beautiful. I wish I could afford something like what you make," I replied.

"I'm going to tell you this once, I don't haggle and I know what my work is worth," he replied, his expression becoming sour.

"I wasn't haggling, honest! I just got to the city here after... after running from home really. I just saw how beautiful everything was and couldn't help but admire it. I'm sorry, I wish I could make something like what you make. I just didn't want you to waste time on my when I know I can't buy anything. I didn't exactly have any money when I left," I said, not wanting to offend. It was something I always seemed to do with my family.

Al'hen didn't seem upset though. If anything he seemed surprised, or concerned.

"I should apologize," he said. "I get a lot of customers who think that a forest elf doesn't know his craft and feel they can get nice amulet for half the cost of materials. What made you find to the city? Nobody runs away without reason."

"I shouldn't keep you though, I mean, you must be busy! I'm just going to distract you."

"Nonsense, it's a slow day and I'm curious."

"Well, I left home to learn magic. I was going to go to the college, but I don't think they'll accept me. I'm not very good at learning my parents said and I don't want to waste everyone's time."

He looked at me, thinking a moment.

"What I gather is that you ran from home, and when you got here you suddenly felt you couldn't make it. Why don't you go back home?"

"I don't want to be a logger all my life, and I left my family without telling them. I can't just go back."

"Well then, how about a proposition. I've been needing help, keeping the shop manned and clean and such. If you like, since you have no money and no home at the moment, you can work for me. I can't pay much but you'll have a room and food. How does that sound?"

I couldn't believe it! I was being offered a place to live! And food!

"I'd be happy to of course! I was worried that I'd be living in an alley to be honest."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he said with a smile on his face. He opened the counter and let me through.

"Now, I might need you to sell for me on occasion and since it doesn't sound like you have anything else going on you can watch me."

I stood back to avoid being in the way while he worked selling the jewelry he made. He only made a few sales, a human, a dwarf, and a couple of gnomes, but he was telling me the truth earlier. He didn't haggle. The gnomes were fine with that, they didn't even try. The dwarf had sneered at it, but left holding a ring large enough for his fingers. The human seemed to have trouble grasping the concept though. She continued to try getting the price down before giving in and paying for her brooch.

As the sun was falling, I helped Al'hen gather the unsold jewelry and money to close the stall for the day. He gave me an odd look as I imitated his methods and organized everything the way he did without asking.

His home was a small one compared to most of the buildings we passed. It was a squat, wooden home about the size of the one I left.

"It isn't much, but it has my workshop out back and it's been enough for me," he said opening the door. Inside was a hammock, table, cupboards, and something that looked like a small tree turned into an alter.

"I didn't exactly plan on picking up anyone so I'll need to set up a bed for you," he said, setting the boxes down beneath his hammock. He turned and saw me looking at the alter.

"Oh, I pay homage to my homeland in the mornings. I hope it doesn't offend you."

"Sorry for staring. I just never saw anything like it before. It's important to you, do why would it offend me?" I asked,placing the boxes I was carrying next to his.

"I don't know, either. Some do find it offensive still, so it doesn't hurt to ask."

The next morning I woke to the smell of food. I was disoriented and confused for a moment at the new surroundings. When I realized I had been sleeping on a pile of straw with a leather apron as a blanket I remembered the previous day.

I froze.

I was siezed by uncertainty and realized just how far from home I really was. I considered leaving and ignoring my stomach when Al'hen stepped inside from the back door.

"I made us breakfast. I hope you don't mind eggs. The halfling next door allows me to take them from her chicken ever since I gave her an amulet she felt was lucky. I always make sure to gather the rest for her so she doesn't have to work so hard in the morning."

"It sounds like the friendship is the part that's actually lucky," I said, stumbling over my words a bit. I worried that my comment would just irritate him like they did my family, but he just smiled instead.

After breakfast, he showed me to his workshop behind the house. While he went to work, he asked me to gather the items he needed as he worked. A chunk of gold here, a pale green stone he called peridot there. It wasn't difficult work, though I had done trouble with remembering the stone names. I'd heard of rubys and emeralds and sapphires, but the other ones I had to rely on his descriptions.

It was while he was having difficulty hammering the setting closed that I saw what was wrong at that moment.

"Sorry to bother you but it looks like there's a grain of dirt or sand keeping it from closing."

He looked up at me surprised before taking a cloth and cleaning both the stone and setting. He had no trouble afterwards.

"How did you see that? I was going to clean it anyway, however I'd still be needing to change the stone because of scratches."

"I've always been good at seeing things up close. I was always having trouble with seeing things clearly at a distance though."

#original wip #wip #dnd #dungeons and dragons #elves #elf #dwarves #gnomes #magic #autistic writer

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