#because it suddenly sets in how violent some of his actions were despite how necessary they were at the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bizlybebo · 8 months ago

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Because its on my mind Im sending this as a "Ramble about it here when you get to X episode" ask. When you finish the episodes titled black, white and grey please rant about them here. They are great and I want to see your opinions

hahaha. hi endy.

the staring at the wall evolved into falling asleep and randomly waking up at 4am, still processing these episodes.

i wrote down. some of my thoughts now having experienced the full thing and got kind of carried away with um. 1.4k words of rambling :3

it’s not even all i want to say but i. ough. fuck these episodes were so good but so. auugggh.

it’s like 5am now im posting this and gonna try to go back to sleep but. holy fucking SHIT when i get you bizly.

(i don’t at all expect you to read this behemoth of a ramble!! just. need to put this somewhere as well because my brain’s still exploding after these episodes)

When season two started I thought it marked a lot of stuff for, y’know, how the show was gonna get darker. I mean, episode one, people were getting killed by a chaos demon in that prison.

I was entirely expecting all the ugly, gory bits of season two to be… external shit. Stuff that other guys, the actual antagonists, did.

But William felt pressured in Black. And suddenly it sets off this chain reaction, and suddenly one of our protagonists is no longer doing heroic things. Suddenly William is effectively torturing a guy psychologically in an attempt to save thousands more with David’s medical research.

He fell into the crux of a lot of villains: “It’s for the greater good”.

There was no going back after he stabbed Tide with the syringe. Tide, who never even had his guard up around William because despite everything, he trusted him and had immeasurable faith in his boys.

White is probably my favorite and least favorite episode, simultaneously, to ever come out of jrwi. The emotional, symbolic, and hell, even cinematic effect it has is insane.

I could fucking scream forever about Willian’s actions in White. About Vyncent’s inactions and the way he was torn about everything— about the fact that in season one, Vyncent was the “violent” one.

But Mark and Dakota fucking hit me in the heart to an insane amount.

Dakota. MOTHERFUCKING. Cole.

I said this before, but:

It’s the fact that Dakota still has optimism. He still has hope, at the very least, that Mark can change; turn over a new leaf for his kid.

“I think he should turn over a new leaf, like, with a new hero name, like— Soundwave, or something.”

He still thinks, or at least thought, that Mark can change. This was after he saw what he did to Lightspeed. He saw the worst of Mark’s actions but he still had faith and hope that there was a good person in there.

This shows so much fucking growth for Dakota’s character. The entire development of his morals, especially over season 2, is insane.

But Mark tries to kill Dakota. Several times.

He shoots at him, unleashes hundreds of bullets, and even tries to stab him. He couldn’t predict that Dakota would be incorporeal, and yeah, sure, you could say that he didn’t know Dakota forfeited his powers (and even without him he’s still significantly stronger than other kids his age). But even with his powers, Dakota would still have taken significant damage from the attacks.

Dakota and Mark’s rivalry is something I could pick apart and think about every little piece of forever.

They both have overwhelming love for Ashe, but it manifests in different ways.

Mark says it himself, “I am what I have to be.” He’s bringing home his kid by any means necessary. Ashe doesn’t have to like him, she just has to be safe and alive.

Dakota’s entire screaming match with Mark is engraved into my brain forever. It felt so real to witness, and the emotion in it was insane.

Dakota’s entire proclamation gets me. He’s so well spoken throughout despite shaking with how angry he is.

“I have been killing myself trying to train hard enough to save her.”

“If you were doing this for Ashe you wouldn’t do things that she’d hate you for.” But Mark is what he has to be.

Dakota never stands down. He keeps getting back up, and back up, and back. Up. Okehrjwjr I’m actually going to start crying thinking about this again.

When he was searching for Lightspeed and following Wavelength’s tracks, he kept asking himself: What would William do? Because he had faith in William’s decision making and investigation.

But at the very same time, William was wondering what Dakota would think about what he’s done.

And GOD don’t get me started on William and his brother.

In a sick, twisted way, I loved their dynamic. I loved what it meant for William narratively when David congratulated his work of defeating Xavier, even calling him “little brother” as a term of endearment. I was on the edge of my seat for their entire conversation in the meeting room.

David gave William his first drink, like older brothers do. William tortured a man because of his brother. David had apple juice sitting on hand because their mother told him to, just in case William ever showed up. William wanted apple juice. He killed somebody.

Cantrip’s been FUCKING me up. I couldn’t even write the word “death” after her name. It doesn’t feel real.

This can’t be the same show in which Jade was sitting on Xavier’s shoulders during mario kart, nonchalantly offering no help as he fought for his life to win like. Second place.

I mean, Jade was such a candid and real character. She was a teenager, just like the rest of the Prime Defenders, and she tried to take a turn for better things after leaving the fighting ring. She went from villainy to vigilantism, and sure, her morals were kind of skewed with how she seemed pretty okay with Alan killing the Bell Tech employees, but her motives were good, in a sense.

(“It’s all for the greater good”. It’s the same thing William was thinking, except William was directly dirtying his hands by torturing Xavier, while Cantrip was just accepting that Alan killed some people.)

I think there’s something to say for how William creates a vision of Cantrip out of smoke, distorting her into some monster, and how that’s the last time we see her image at all before learning of the fact that she’s. Gone.

The last time we see the real Jade, she’s just trying to escape. She doesn’t even talk, if I remember correctly. She just tries to get out. She gets shot in the arm but still persists.

And William ends up being the one who pulls the trigger; who injects the memory loss shit into her blood.

He’s the one who kills her, despite not knowing it at the time.

And David still masquerades as an innocent man, going as far as to relax at his apartment with him and William’s parents as though the events of the previous night never happened.

It fucks me up how the last words that Will and David exchanged before the confrontation in the apartment was:

“Don’t turn into a supervillain while I’m gone.”

“You either.”

William was starting to believe that David was a guy with awful methods, but good intentions— and William felt as though he was the same way. He saw himself becoming David, but David manipulated him into thinking that, hey, it’s awful, but at least he wouldn’t be… alone, I guess, in being a horrible person.

William and David finally saw eye to eye on the worst thing.

And David. Still. Lied.

Lied by omission.

And Jade was the one who took the fall for William’s actions. Jade, the girl who made fun of William for his crush on Vyncent. Jade, who had a sister she cared about, even if she scoffed about her love of heroes— despite the implication that their parents died because of them (likely caught in crossfire or casualties of battle). Jade, who painted her nails and placed bets on William kissing Vyncent, saying he’d be too pussy to do so. Jade, who found herself in a fucking fighting arena of all places but still found friends through it.

Jade, who was the first one to trust William with her actual name instead of Cantrip.

William, who killed her.

And. Fucking Christ.

Vyncent’s monologue at the end of episode 33 just. Fucks me up.

For the entire greyscale series, he finds himself suspended in inaction, too scared to do the right thing and too scared to stop the wrong thing.

But he finally faces it. He looks at William, certainly with fear after knowing all that he’s done, and even still, Vyncent dances around the morality of the subject. He accepts if William wants to flat-out lie to Dakota’s face about what happened at Bell Tech, though he does warn him of the significant damage it’ll do to their friendship.

And when William asks Vyncent to leave the room at the end of the episode, Vyncent finally takes a leap and becomes no longer caught by his indecision between apathy and guilt.

He looks at William, thinking he’s on the edge of something he won’t come back from, and he takes his hand, and pulls Wlliam back from the metaphorical cliff’s edge. If William does fall, then they’re falling together.

His entire proclamation, starting with “I’ve had so many opportunities to do the right thing”, fucking guts me.

God I’ve been typing for like. An hour now but the greyscale series really fucked me up holy shit.

tldr: AAAAUUUUIGGHHHHKEKGKKSKVMEMGOOCU:$)&2’ynkejvjk4&3&582$2!:$?82&;&/&(929@,@2&(&2&&?EVIL EVIL EVIL GOD IS DEADDDDJGKRMHKSKKKKLLEKCKSJGJKSICIWKFMSKGIWIIIAI&383&5&?&?@39(92@?&&/8:7;&,£,]*+\+<*]¥<**]+<+¥sfkwkfkkwjfkI HATE EVERYTHING AOUUGGGHHHHHH OUUUUUUEHEHRHRHRJKGHRHRHRRRRRRR

i am emotionally attached to this media a normal amount

#vixen rambles #vixen answers #jrwi pd #jrwi pd spoilers #jrwi spoilers #jrwi #analysis #< yeah you could say that

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 23 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke with a start at the sound of something slamming to the point of cracking – a door thrown too hard, perhaps, or the shattering of a piece of furniture under the strength of a powerful cultivator.

Dazed at having been woken so abruptly at such a late hour, he at first thought that the sound was an aberration of some sort, someone making too much noise by mistake, even some cultivation maniac doing exercises in the middle of the night that had briefly lost control, but then the sounds continued, crashing and slamming and even indistinct shouting.

Indistinct, and unfamiliar, but still recognizable – that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

Lan Qiren had never heard him shout before.

He stood up, instinctively checking over his clothing and fixing his forehead ribbon, and padded out towards the door to the hallway. The array used to create enough silence to let him sleep was glowing faintly, doing its work against overwhelming odds, but Lan Qiren didn’t hesitate to dismiss it and pull open the door, poking his head out to see what was going on.

“ – what use are you?” Wen Ruohan was shouting, some distance down the hall. “Good-for-nothing bitch! What do you think I got you for in the first place?”

He was standing outside his wife’s door.

Lan Qiren had not seen Madame Wen on this visit, other than in passing. He’d been relieved to discover that he had heard accurately and that she had not suffered on account of what she had done, except perhaps as a result of her husband making clear that he would give her exactly what he had promised her out of their marriage and nothing more. Despite that, every time she saw him, she generally had an expression that resembled smelling something bad, and he didn’t especially want to deal with her irrational jealousy.

(Lan Qiren could understand and even appreciate the truth that she had shown him, but it didn’t mean he appreciated the reasoning behind her actions - just as Wen Ruohan might appreciate the cunning and ambition demonstrated by her actions, and begrudgingly acknowledge that the real fault for their divide was his own actions, but not feel any more inclined to her as a result.)

Lan Qiren thought he might have to deal with her more, particularly on the few times he had visited little Wen Xu, who was already a size or two larger than he’d started out – it was simply shocking in terms of how much time had passed since he’d had his argument with Wen Ruohan – but he found that the child was largely being watched by servants, not the Madame, who was busy ruling the social scene of the Nightless City. Whether that was true or merely an excuse, by now it was clear that they were in mutual agreement that they did not want to spend any time in each other’s presence.

She was also, very clearly, refusing to let Wen Ruohan into her bedroom.

Lan Qiren couldn’t blame her: he’d never seen Wen Ruohan in a state like this. His clothing was mussed up, his hands clenched, his face red, his aura frighteningly strong and overwhelming, his monstrously powerful qi roiling the air in the hallway into an incipient storm – and even from the distance he was standing, Lan Qiren could smell the distinct odor of strong liquor, suggesting that Wen Ruohan had overindulged in alcohol at some point after Lan Qiren had gone to sleep. Based on casual mentions in prior conversation, Lan Qiren knew that Wen Ruohan’s cultivation level was so high as to render him largely unaffected even by significant drinking, but the fact that he had bothered to try to seek solace in the wine jar suggested that there was something incredibly wrong with his mental state.

It wasn’t a qi deviation - the violent emanations were unsettled, but not distorted - but it wasn’t good, either.

Wisdom would counsel that Lan Qiren keep back and not get in Wen Ruohan’s way.

Righteousness, on the other hand…

Anyway, Wen Ruohan was his sworn brother. What sort of brother would Lan Qiren be if he took only the good and not the bad?

“Da-ge?” he called, stepping out into the hallway. “Da-ge, come away from there.”

Wen Ruohan turned to him, and his expression was frightening. “Fine. You’ll do,” he growled, and it was only because Lan Qiren had grown wiser and stronger that he realized what was about to happen and dodged before Wen Ruohan could grab him, darting back into his room.

Wen Ruohan followed him in.

“What happened?” Lan Qiren asked, still backing away. “You were fine at dinner – what happened since then?”

For some reason, that set Wen Ruohan off again, turning his attention away from Lan Qiren, and he grabbed the table and threw it into the wall, smashing it all to pieces.

“That fucker,” he snarled, his eyes blank and distant. He wasn’t angry at Lan Qiren, that much was clear, but he was filled with ceaseless rage, and he was taking it out on everything around him. “That fucker got married! He’s got a son!”

Lan Qiren blinked. “…what?”

Smash went the cabinet, and all the various things on it. At least Wen Ruohan hadn’t started in on the paintings, which were the only aspect of the room Lan Qiren actually cared or worried about.

“Who got married and had a son?” Lan Qiren asked, even though he knew it would only inflame Wen Ruohan further. At this point, it was clear that Wen Ruohan’s had gotten stuck in his chest, like black blood that needed to be coughed; he needed to vent his anger or else it would curdle within him and he would suffer. “Normally that’s a good thing, a cause for celebration. Why is it bad here?”

“Because it’s Lao Nie!” Wen Ruohan burst out, and Lan Qiren rocked back on his heels in shock.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that Lao Nie had been unusually distracted these past few months, even most of a year – the way he’d ignored or disregarded Lan Qiren’s letters about the situation with He Kexin, the breezy and almost manic tone of his replies to Lan Qiren’s brother, which Lan Qiren had seen, it all spoke of distraction and carelessness, all typical of Lao Nie, albeit of far greater severity than usual.

Nor was it truly a surprise that none of them had been informed: the Qinghe Nie had always been idiosyncratic about their personal details, unusually secretive and fiercely proud of it. They did not share their birth date or even year, other than for arranging a marriage. If Lan Qiren had thought about it, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out that Lao Nie would have married and had a child all without having shared any information on the subject until afterwards.

Only…

“But aren’t you – with him?” he asked, and knew immediately that he had asked the wrong question.

Wen Ruohan roared and smashed yet another thing, sending a palm strike through a dresser and denting the stone wall with the power of it. “He’s mine,” he spat. His eyes were even redder than usual, the sclera becoming red alongside the iris; it made him look almost possessed, almost as if he really were having some sort of qi deviation. “He’s mine, damn it! Who is he to give himself to another? And he didn’t even tell me…!”

They were definitely in a relationship, Lan Qiren confirmed to himself. His guess had been right. There could be no doubt about it. And yet, despite it all, Lao Nie had –

No, he couldn’t even express surprise. Lan Qiren knew Lao Nie, knew what he valued and how he valued it: Lao Nie had always been passionate and powerful, strong and superior, friendly and often kind, and yet at his core he was ruthless, careless, and selfish, just like Wen Ruohan was so often selfish. He did not concern himself overmuch with questions of righteousness, other than to the degree necessary to win glory to his sect as one on the righteous path. After his sect, which he valued most of all, he was an indolent pleasure-seeker, with terrible taste in partners, the more dangerous the better; Lan Qiren had seen him flirting with people left and right long after he’d concluded that he’d entered into a relationship with Wen Ruohan.

In the past, Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d even encouraged him, looking smug and amused by the flirtations, taking the other man’s victories as his own; during one incident that Lan Qiren could recall, he’d all but applauded when Lao Nie had successfully wooed some rogue cultivator and taken her back to his bed, turning instead to his own separate amusements after.

Then again, that wasn’t a marriage.

(Of course, Wen Ruohan himself had also gotten married…)

“How dare he,” Wen Ruohan said, panting a little from his own exertion, clearly more moved by the feelings raging within him than any type of physical exhaustion. “How dare he – does he think I’m desperate? Pathetic? Does he think I’d run after him, begging and humiliating myself..? I don’t need him at all!”

He turned once more, and this time his gaze focused on Lan Qiren.

“I have something of my own already,” he murmured, and this time Lan Qiren wasn’t fast enough to stop him as he caught him up in his arms, slamming his back against the wall.

Lan Qiren tensed, suddenly for a moment back in his rooms in the Cloud Recesses, looking up at a different brother who wanted to hurt him – but no, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the same, Wen Ruohan liked him. He was acting out of fury, not malice; there was no He Kexin here to goad him on, nothing like that.

Even the force of being pushed against the wall hadn’t actually hurt – Wen Ruohan had been careful even in his mindless rage, making sure that any impact was cushioned by his own arms rather than Lan Qiren’s back; Lan Qiren hadn’t even had the breath knocked out of him.

“Da-ge…!”

Wen Ruohan didn’t want to hear him. He put his hand on Lan Qiren’s mouth and pressed down, cutting off speech at once. They were pressed together so closely that the movement inadvertently dragged his sleeve onto Lan Qiren’s throat, almost making him gag, and he instinctively tried futilely to kick his way out – it didn’t work, of course.

Wen Ruohan pressed up against him, the front of his body burning like flame against Lan Qiren.

“You’re mine,” he said, reaching in to nuzzle the side of Lan Qiren’s head with his cheek. “My blood brother, bound by oath and blood; my shining pearl, untouched by the world. All good things should belong to me.”

Lan Qiren reached up to try to push away the hand at this mouth, wanting to speak even though he did not know what he would say, and at first he thought he’d done it. But then suddenly he was in motion, his back landing hard on the bed he’d been given, the impact softened by the blanket Wen Ruohan had wrapped around him when he’d brought him back to the Nightless City from the Cloud Recesses. Shocked by the unexpectedness of the abrupt movement, he gasped, a wordless inhale rather than any coherent words.

Less than a heartbeat, and Wen Ruohan was on top of him, pressing him down. His body seemed even hotter than usual, as if his whole spirit were aflame, his qi boiling in the air around them until Lan Qiren had the impression as though he ought to be able to see steam; his hands were hot where they pressed down on Lan Qiren’s shoulders, his lips burning as they pressed against his collarbone, and between his legs there was something hot pressing against him, too.

And still, Lan Qiren – was not afraid.

He wasn’t sure why. He’d been terrified when it had been his brother who had stood against him, disgusted when it had been He Kexin pawing at him in ways he did not and had never wanted, but Wen Ruohan, who was bound to him through nothing but a tricked oath…

“Da-ge,” he whispered. “Please stop.”

Wen Ruohan stilled. He didn’t get up or pull away, but he didn’t make any further movements.

“Please let me go.”

Wen Ruohan’s breathing was harsh in his ear. “You, too, little Lan?” he asked. “Just like him, making me think – don’t you like me?”

“I do,” Lan Qiren admitted. He might be stupid when it came to social interactions, might be slow and miss things that were obvious, but even he could figure out what Wen Ruohan meant, with his confession of how Lan Qiren lingered in his thoughts and in pressing him down on the bed like this while mourning the loss of Lao Nie, his lover. And maybe sometimes he needed Cangse Sanren to point things out to him, but most of the time he knew himself. This past week had made clear enough that he enjoyed Wen Ruohan’s endless indulgences in a spirit that was more than just pure brotherhood. “I do like you. But I don’t like – this.”

Wen Ruohan was silent for a long moment.

“Not this, with me,” he finally said. “Or not – at all?”

“At all,” Lan Qiren said. He had thought when he was younger that he might change, but he was increasingly sure that he wouldn’t, that this was just what he was like. “I was never like the others my age. Even Yueheng-xiong, who I would’ve thought loved nothing but mathematics and explosions, has found himself distracted by the shape of the one he likes. But not me. I don’t yearn the way they do. I can love a person’s spirit, but I never much cared for the flesh.”

“Love,” Wen Ruohan echoed, his voice oddly uneven. “You speak of - love?”

“…isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Wen Ruohan laughed, a jagged and choked up thing, and then he pulled away, letting Lan Qiren go, sitting up on the bed and burying his face in his hands. The qi around him was still too-hot, overwhelming, pulsing with his feelings, even as his shoulders shook and he stared blankly at the wall; any other man, and Lan Qiren might think he was crying, but he could see Wen Ruohan’s face through his fingers, and there were no tears there.

Perhaps he’d forgotten how.

Lan Qiren slowly sat up himself.

He could still feel the mild stiffness of old healing injuries, but he ignored them and got up off the bed, going to the one side table that had yet to be destroyed – the one where he’d laid his guqin to rest. It turned out that Wen Ruohan had only destroyed the things he himself had put into the room; he hadn’t touched anything of Lan Qiren’s.

Lan Qiren settled in front of his guqin and began to play.

Out of all the compositions he had created, his favorite was the one he had first created at the Nightless City, that strange hypnotic melody that brought to mind spilled pearls, but unlike some of the others he’d worked on, it had never felt fully completed. The music wrapped itself around the listener, at first intimate and then oppressive, a heavy stone in their chest and pressure on their skull, growing darker and darker, just as he’d written it – but now he played onwards, elaborating on the theme in ways he hadn’t planned or expected, letting the solemn notes brighten, the overwhelming pressure turning from suffocating into safe as it became clear that it would cause no harm, the storm passing by overhead and leaving things clean and clear and better, the lingering euphoria of finding oneself supported, rather than alone.

When his fingers finally stilled, Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan sitting there with his back straight again, hands resting gently in his lap, eyes closed as if in meditation and face calm once more. His qi no longer coiled around him, lashing out; it had settled once more.

“You will,” Wen Ruohan said without opening his eyes, “be an excellent traveling musician, little Lan. People will fight for the right to hear you, and you will never go without an audience.”

Lan Qiren hesitated, not sure what to make of such a compliment, or what Wen Ruohan meant by it. He’d only intended to play something to help him settle his qi and soothe his rage, which he’d clearly accomplished. He hadn’t even meant to play that particular song, other than in the way that he tended to default to it when he had nothing else specific in mind. It had always been unsatisfying, like an itch, but now it finally felt complete.

“Da-ge –” he started to say, not knowing what he would say next, but at any rate he never had the chance to continue.

“When you do finally go to fulfill your dreams, leaving the dust of the world behind you, I hope that you visit the Nightless City often,” Wen Ruohan said. His tone was still calm, settled, but not, Lan Qiren observed, peaceful: there were all sorts of seething emotions underneath it. “But for the moment, I think it is better if you return to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan Qiren hesitated once again, this time feeling a little hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said, and his lips curved into something that was not a smile; it seemed almost painful a shape to contort into, and his eyes reflected no humor at all when he opened them. “Very much. Ah, little Lan, if only you knew…despite that, I would still have you go. Having made my views on you clear to your brother, it should be safe, and I do not want you to see what beast I make of myself when I am denied.”

Lan Qiren bowed his head a little. “About Lao Nie…”

“I know what he’s like,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’ve always known, from the start. If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said that I did not have any illusions…”

He smiled bitterly.

“It seems that I misjudged myself.”

“I’ll go,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t especially want to, but Wen Ruohan wasn’t in a rage, nor lashing out unthinkingly. To refuse him would be to deny him, to treat him as if he could not make his own decisions, and that, he thought, would be worse. “If you want me to, I’ll go, and later, I’ll return.”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but he watched as Lan Qiren pulled on some more clothing, not caring which one it was, and did his hair back up in the simplest style, favoring speed over substance; he packed away his guqin and his sword and one of the paintings that he had liked best, but took nothing else – after all, it wasn’t as if he were going away for good.

He made it to the door before hesitating, then turned back to look at Wen Ruohan, who was still watching him.

“Is there anything…?” he asked haltingly. “Something I can get you…?”

“Send one of the maids to me,” Wen Ruohan said. “Any of them, it doesn’t matter which. If they’re still hanging around in the family quarters after an eruption like that, it can be seen that their ambition has overcome their good sense, making them a perfect match for me. It would be a shame to deny them the fruits of their victory.”

Lan Qiren didn’t quite understand, but he knew enough to get the gist; he felt his cheeks and ears go hot. Still, he had offered, and it wasn’t something he was willing to do himself, so there was really no basis for refusing to pass along the request. He nodded and slipped out – as Wen Ruohan predicted, there was one of the maids lingering at the far corner, looking around in blatant curiosity. She was pretty enough, Lan Qiren supposed, with an upturned nose and a slightly arrogant air, her clothing carefully arranged to be just a little mussed in a way that Lan Qiren understood most men to find attractive.

“Your sect leader is in my room,” he told her, and she blinked at him. “If you go to him now, he’d probably accept. Up to you, though.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He left, his head held high; when he glanced back anyway, he saw her going into his room, hair patted down and clothing even more carefully arranged – Wen Ruohan hadn’t been wrong when he speculated as to her ambitions. The life of a powerful sect leader, Lan Qiren supposed: desired but never known, as distant from those around him as Lan Qiren but as a consequence of his position rather than his inclination.

He would definitely return, Lan Qiren decided. Perhaps he would even make the Nightless City the first destination on his travels. After all, why should he not? Was Wen Ruohan not his sworn brother, too?

Yes, Lan Qiren thought. That was right.

Wen Ruohan deserved to have someone possess him as he longed to possess others.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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yinses · 4 years ago

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ethereal lullaby

| days, months, years… it didn’t matter. you were willing to wait a lifetime.|

siren!gojo satoru

rating: T ( yeah i know, surprised myself)

a/n: not going to talk about me accepting this without understanding what a siren was. thank you to new friends for helping me not look like an idiot. took the friends to lovers approach because simp vibes. amen. i might do a sequel just to up the rating a bit because this already got so long. we’ll see.

thanks to @kinbari14 for the hc. it was a fun challenge.

your parents tried to highlight the positives- how could they not after dragging their fifteen year old away from home. you were in the middle of your teenage years, just starting to hone confidence in your social skills. they told you it would be exciting.

r_ight next to the ocean_, they coaxed as if you’d ever cared to swim.

sitting on the shores now with your toes curled in the sand, you wondered if your friends were missing you as much as you missed them.

the moon full and bright, high enough to signal that it was well past your curfew. but your parents were more lenient this summer, trying anyway they could to smooth your transition. it was a brief allowance that you would take advantage of while you could.

collecting the shoes at your feet, you sighed heavily, deciding that it was time to head back for the night. the more effort you made the easier it would pass through.

your back had just turned to the shores when you heard the sound- soft, melodic as it seemed to warm your ears.

it sounded like a song, but you’d never heard anyone on the radio sound this good. the voice tickled your consciousness and you shook your head to fight away the haze. yet the cloud lingered, drifting down to your feet this time.

it felt like you were walking on cotton candy, a jovial step, knocking your knees together as you put more distance between yourself and the house. a tinge of fear cooled your spine but the sensation wasn’t strong enough to sway the superior force.

the closer you got the more you came to recognize the sound. not able to tie it to a specific person but certain that it was a person. it reminded you of the choir melodies from your old school but not even the star could compare.

you were able to register the shift from sand to rocky gravel but not the sharp pinch as rocks dug into your feet. the song still carried you closer, around the bend and towards the mouth of a cave.

despite every strand of common sense warning you not to, you crossed the threshold. the cavern played a devil’s advocate- enticing you with mystery while amplifying the the lyrics you still couldn’t place.

the effort to figure it out didn’t seem worth it, nothing superseded the call.

all too quick you reached the wide pool that spread out at the end and suddenly the song stopped. the splash of water at your feet was enough to startle your system, sending you reeling back as you tripped against the damp ground.

something too intense to call an emotion trampled your ability to move as you were left frozen to watch as a figure pulled itself to the edge.

the first thing you took in was the shock of white hair but that was nothing compared to the two turquoise pearls blinking up at you.

“huh… you’re what i caught?”

it almost sounded bored.

the shrill of your scream drowned out the slow drawl of condescension. the- boy? hissed and shrank back, hand coming up to cover his ears.

“no, no! stop. goddess that hurts.”

you instinctively go to kick back, but he is faster, something wet and slimly curling around your ankle. the grip draws you closer, uncaring of the way the unforgiving ground bit into your back.

your lips part to scream again but the sound gets stuck at the sharp glare you receive. water continued to drip from the strands of his hair, the drops that met your skin were ice cold. he was close enough now that you could smell the salt from the sea against his skin. near enough that you almost lost yourself in the bright pools taking you in equally.

his eyes track the motion as you lick your lips. “who are you?”

the hand that still ensnared you loosened to a soft caress as his fingertips traced your skin. as he did, you came to note that his wasn’t quite as smooth- something akin to glossy ridges.

you didn’t like when he hummed. not because the sound was unbearing, but because of the opposite. the pull wasn’t as powerful as before but there was no denying the source.

“who are you?” he echoed back.

when your eyes narrow, he shoots you a wicked grin full of sharp teeth.

unable to do much else, you offer you name and find yourself surprised when he returns the gesture.

“satoru.”

you try the name for yourself. neither of you can deny that it doesn’t fall quite the same from your lips. your gaze cuts down as he shifts again, revealing the bareness that stopped just short of his waistline. cheeks warming, you decided that his eyes were the lesser evil.

“aren’t you cold?”

satoru’s head tilts at the question. “no … are you?” as if he could check, his thumb brushes against the sensitive side of your ankle. you can’t resist another kick, but he’s more than prepared.

this time however, he doesn’t just hold it down, instead lifting it closer as he inspected your heel.

“these were always peculiar to me. so many little appendages, yet too small to do much.”

these?

as if you enunciate your curiosity, your toes wiggle in response. the action prompts melodious laughter.

“what, and yours are better?”

the old battle of boys vs girls somehow melds into the bizarre situation. as if catching on to the challenge something akin to glee lights up in his eyes as he draws closer. but before he could accept the provocation, another voice breaks into the conversation.

the voice is urgent, worried and carrying your name.

astonished, satoru’s grip loosens enough for you to wiggle out as you scramble to your feet. his eyes narrow as he realizes this and he his arm shoots out to reclaim his prize. this time you’re faster though and step back.

you don’t like the way he rises to this new dare as if he as prepared to intervene if necessary.

“that’s my dad,” you explain, not sure if you should even be telling him this. “ i need to go.”

“no.”

your mind halts at the intensity behind command.

‘’what do you mean no? i’ll get in trouble. i’m already in trouble.”

the waters shift violently behind the boy as he raises onto his elbows as if to present a greater turbulence should you not heed.

troubled, you bit your lips as your father’s voice carries near. it was only a hunch, but something told you that their meeting wouldn’t be a good thing. quickly you scramble for an alternative.

“if you let me go now, i’ll come back and bring you something. its summertime so i have more freedom.”

though you felt your privileges dwindling the longer you lingered.

satoru took too long to consider your offer and you began to question your chances of just running for it.

“fine, but you better be back.”

relief filled your chest as you already turned towards the mouth of the cave.

“yes! i promise. sooner than today though, i wont be able to be out this late again.”

you tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t returned. there was distrust in his eyes but he didnt pursue.

“when the sun sets then.” he adjured. and you were but a humble servant on the prince’s shores.

“sunset,” you agreed as you broke into a run.

the moment you broke free of the grotto you crashed into your father’s arms. the relief on his face was evident.

“there you are! why didn’t you answer, we were worried.”

his arms come around you and you realize you’re shaking.

“jesus, you must be freezing. let’s get back before your mother sends out a search party.”

your arms encircle his waist as you let him drag you away. in one ear, you hear him start up a conversation about the neighborhood you had yet to explore to its fullest, tacking on a few names of children who belonged to some of his new coworkers.

in the other, you heard the beginnings of a new song, one that didn’t seem to reach your father. and you didnt know what to do with that information.

sunset came all too soon the next day, the sun lowering just as dinner came to a close. you lingered close to your mother as you finished the last of the dishes. the tasks were dragging longer than needed, but no one would ever complain about them being extra clean.

as you ran a rag over the porcelain you wondered what would happen if you didn’t show up. you couldn’t get the image of those teeth at of your head, the sharp glint gnawing into your dreams last night. they came off as an obvious threat but surely he couldn’t hurt you.

then your mind drifted to that song. the same nameless lyrics that put you in the predicament in the first place. there was no denying that there was something going on there as well. just avoiding the cave wouldn’t be enough.

all that was left was your curiosity, left to simmer under the plague of ‘what if’. the mysterious surrounding satoru wouldn’t leave you until you made good on your promise. the vow becoming something of a vice.

with your mind made up, you turned to your mother.

“do we have any mochi left?”

your parents hesitantly let you out with a curfew. you’d mentioned that you were held up late by a friend last time- to which your father questioned why you hadn’t mentioned it until now. they were obviously worried about your lack of agreeableness to reach out to the other kids so this initiative helped to ease their weariness.

clutching the small container of sweet mango filled dough to your chest, you made your way back to the little cave. the distance traveled was kinder to you this time with shoes as you made haste down the gravel banks.

uncertainty slowed your steps as you approached the widening curve of the stillness pool. depending on how you gauged the sun, you weren’t terribly late. it was technically still sunset.

a mix of disappointment and relief swam in your gut as you came to the conclusion that your new acquaintance hadn’t met their own end of the deal. maybe his parents had also got onto him about being so late.

it was probably for the best anyway.

“what’s that?”

the volume of your scream made even you wince as the tupperware toppled to the ground. turning on your heel, you came face to face with satoru. you never heard the water part at his entrance.

he wore a bored expression but there was a hint of a smile to his lips. this time he didnt scold you for shrieking, too interested in the container that had toppled near the shore.

bringing your hand to your chest, you reasoned that scolding him would be useless. “its mochi.”

for once, it was his tongue that made the words sound off. apparently the rounded desserts werent part of his vocabulary.

carefully easing onto the ground, you brought the container into your lap.

“it’s my surprise. i hope you’re hungry.”

as you cracked the top, satoru move closer, nose twitching as the smell of mango drifted out. your mother had been all too happy to pack all the extras for you to share.

you offered one.

satoru took it carefully, bringing it to his nose for another cautious sniff. you took in the point of his nails as he split the soft dough. he collected the orange the oozed out and brought it to his mouth.

in the span of seconds, he devoured the entire bun in one bite and snatched the remaining from your hands.

“this is good! i’ll excuse your lateness, this time.”

without the weight in your lap, you drew your knees to your chest as you watched on as he greedily ate one after the other. you considered warning him of the stomachache he would endure if he held the pace, but you decided that it would only fall on deaf ears.

instead you ask,” so about those toes?”

it seemed like such a weird question to ask. equally as strange to satoru as he brow pinched. he brought his fingers to his mouth to clear away the stickiness.

“what are those?”

an age old meme resonated within you and you waited with baited breath for him to carry the joke, but only silence drenched the space between you.

pursing your lips, you shake your foot in reminder. “remember? apparently yours were better?”

“oh.” satoru’s lips smacked audibly as he polished off another bun. and as if it was the most natural thing in the world he shifted back, a bright blue tail that matched his eyes broke the surface.

if you were sure before, you were certain he was going to eat you this time.

because you screamed again.

satoru demanded that you bring him mochi everyday from then on for hurting his ears again.

yes, everyday.

there would be multiple days to instil the notion that you had met a mythical creature. you were still trying to assure yourself that you have been awake the whole time.

your parents no longer needed to worry about you making friends, because apparently you’d managed to befriend a merman.

siren, satoru had hissed after bitting into a blueberry mochi. asking your mother to make mochi only worked for the first few visits. eventually her curiosity to win and lead you down a path you weren’t ready to accept yet.

the trail leading to the acceptance that you were conversing with a fishman- boy.

lounging on your blanket, you had come to store little things for comfort around the cave. sunset rolled back a few hours to afternoon and before you knew it you were spending the majority of your days with satoru.

“don’t your parents ever worry about you being gone so long?”

as usual, satoru was eating. he’d already finished the dango you had brought and moved on to the squid you’d turned down with barely restrained disgust. undeterred, he’d only shrugged and proceeded to gnaw off one of the tentacles.

“no.”

and that was that.

so instead you quizzed him on the mythical world you had and most humans were blind to. he talked about submerged cities, described aquatic creatures you could have never dreamed of if you tried and dissuaded your worst fears.

“so you don’t eat humans?”

“no we do. but i don’t want to eat you.”

you waited for the yet but it never came. satoru seemed content consuming whatever sugary treat you brought and sated the rest with whatever he caught swimming by.

Eventually you let go of the imagery of ariel and her seaside romance and began to soak your free time in legends of beautiful sirens of the sea who took pleasure in drowning their victims. every story warned land dwellers from entering the waters, something you had never shown interest in doing nor had satoru pressured you.

“how old are you satoru?”

“how old are you?”

he always did this, answering questions with his own. it came to you that he might just be remaining within your boundaries to keep you from screaming at him again. a fair assumptions, but you were genuinely curious.

“fifteen,” you offered, prepared to have the same response thrown back at you.

“sixteen.”

satoru raised a brow at your suspicion of disbelief. “i think i know how old i am.”

and you couldn’t fault him for that. you just weren’t expecting him to be so young. sure he looked like he could have been a boy at your school aside from the freckled scales and obvious tail.

“i beat you again, by the way.”

his words draw you from your thoughts. “huh?”

he swallows the remainder of a melon bun.

“i’m older. so i win again.”

you roll your eyes.

tail or not, apparently some things are the same.

two weeks have passed before you realize he hasn’t sung for you since that day. the two of you often meet in the morning now, break for lunch and resume in the late evening. as far as your parents are concerned, you’re on the way to making a new best friend which will only be promising for when you start school.

“you act all funny when i sing. its not meant for your pleasure anyway,” he adds.

for once he’s not eating. he’s lying closer to you, tail still dipped under the water but more of his top half is lain out on the shore. when you try to give him a blanket to lie on to put something between himself and the rocks he gives you a funny look but concedes. now watching as he nuzzles into the the fabric of your cotton blanket, you hide a knowing grin.

“but it sounds pretty, toru.”

when you had first tried out the nickname, you had hesitantly rushed it into a sentence. you were growing comfortable with the siren but the dangers were still present. like most things, it didn’t get past him and he grinned smugly but didn’t tease you further than that.

you were grateful for that as it allowed you to become more comfortable with its usage, likely his intention.

he hums in agreement, eyes sliding close as he readjusts. his tail follows the movement lowly, making small ripples.

“can’t you sing in a way that wont affect me?”

satoru’s eyes flash up to you suddenly and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden shift in the mood.

“no, because then it would be bad for me. if i cant control you then i cant drown you.”

you dont bring up how that would also be bad for you.

you dont bring up his singing again.

summer is edging near completion and your parents start to curb your outings.

“you’ll see them more when school starts. if you dont start to getting to bed earlier now you’ll just make it worse for you.”

there is no way for you to explain how it will be harder to approach your situation to satoru. you were knowingly wedging yourself deeper with him. the first day you met him had marked a streak of possessiveness that kept drawing you back in.

you weren’t just his friend.

you were his.

the thing he looked forward to each morning and regretted parting with each afternoon. you knew this for a fact, because you felt it too.

“okay, i’m going to go a little earlier today. then”

your mother lets you go with a short kiss to your temple and a promise that you’ll return for lunch.

satoru took the news about as well as you would expect.

“you can’t go.”

letting your head fall back on your shoulders, you stared up at the small break in the grotto above. “i have to go to school, toru. if i dont go then ill get in trouble and if that happens then i definitely cant come back.”

you know he knows this too. satoru was smart. a species like his didnt survive this long unknown without intelligence.

but then again, he let you in on the secret and it was too early to gauge the genius in that.

you were more comfortable around each other now, legs bare as your feet dipped into the water. satoru still resumed his post on the shore, arms crossed by your hip as the white of his hair brushed against your thighs.

he seemed to still be digesting the news which gave you the opportunity to probe again.

“i mean, surely you have stuff to do as well. what did you do before you met me?”

satoru deflected the question, head lolling to the side to rest against your skin. the slippery surface of the scales littering his cheek always felt like ice chips.

“ate more stupid people.”

you’d asked about this of course. probably worrying your parents when you brought up with questions of drowning in the area. they seemed unsure before your father assured you that they wouldn’t have let you venture so close to the shore if that was a problem.

so if satoru was indeed eating people like he said, it wasn’t from around here.

part of you still felt like there was a bit of myth still lodged in his truth.

“so you can only meet me at sunset again?”

you make a noise of affirmation, hand raising as it hovers over his head. you had never actually touched it before but as it tickled the inside of your thigh the curiosity grew. before you talked yourself out of it, your hand dropped.

his hair was silky, still damp but drying at a reasonable pace. his head moved under the weight of your hand, but it wasn’t to shake it off. you accepted the invitation and weaved your fingers further.

“on most days. with homework i wont be able to everyday like this either.”

his loud groan rumbles against your leg and he slowly slinks back into the water. your hand clenches around the absence.

“for every extra day you’re not here, you better bring me something great.”

its probably time for you to be going anyway.

you go about collecting your things and tucking away what you could. when you finally stand, you trying to shake way the numbness that had settled.

“we should probably figure out days, so you’re not always just here-”

“no need.”

satoru swam on his back for about half a meter, showing off his full length before his slipped under and reemerged at your feet.

“when you come back i’ll be here.”

the two of you managed to meet a few more times before the first day of classes started. satoru was noticeably nicer to you, or atleast as pleasant as he could be. after finally realizing that you had no interest in dead aquatic animals, he began corralling live ones for you to view.

you realized that the two worlds had different names for a lot of things as he listed off various species and colors. you took a few of them with your phone before the idea hit you.

“hey, toru can i take a picture of you?”

he made a face like he might disagree. there was no need to explain the device as you’d already done plenty of show and tell. one of the earlier showings leaving you to soak your phone in rice for two whole days.

eventually he shrugs and you snap a photo immediately after.

the night sky begets a short flash, one that he winces at and moans in protest. but the picture is worth the complaint.

he looks almost like a human boy wading in a pool- aside of the assortment of blueish scales to his cheeks. your only regret in that he’d closed one eye in reaction to the sudden light. there was a light frown to his face too but that was as genuine as it got.

“let me take one of you.”

you were too surprised to deny him, wordlessly handing off your phone with less worry than you probably should have had. he handles it carefully though, biding by your instructions before you too were wincing away from the flash.

the smile you get from him was better than anything you could have captured.

“can i keep it?”

you laugh, “no, toru. but i can make you something you can.”

highschool was hard enough transitioning up with your junior classmates, the challenges of tackling your first year without out them met your expectations but not the worst of them. you learned quickly who to avoid and who you could be amicable with.

being the new girl was an easier pill to swallow when you came equipped with a few stories from your past home. it gained the interest of a few which made a way from conversation to acquaintanceship.

nothing was quite as exciting as your meeting with satoru but that was to be anticipated.

satoru … unfortunately was seen less and less as the weeks went by. your parents were keen on you making a good first impression which meant a heavy emphasis on your school work.

you mother had offered for you to invite your ‘friend’ over more than once, and invitation that had spanned since your early meeting. but the only thing harder than trying to explain that your satoru was a fish was to add that he was also a boy.

your father might actually overlook the former in favor of the latter.

so you were left to visit him on the weekends and thus compiled your allowance to purchase bigger treats and delicacies alike.

his introduction to cake had a been a messy occurrence. naturally he would forgo the fork you brought to dig in with his fingers.

satoru surprised you by asking about your schooling.

“what? it’s not like ive ever been around that many human before. sounds smelly.”

you laugh, because he’s not wrong. you go into detail about your different teachers and classmates, offering vivid retellings that you hadn't even shared with your parents.

satoru hung onto every words, though not without crass comments and frequent jokes, his attention sent something new aflutter within you.

“i can’t believe the year is almost over, toru.”

your hair is getting wet but you can’t be bothered to care. the two of you are resting from opposite directions with your heads on the bank. your eyes are trained on the pink hues above but your cognitive of satoru’s warmth and the feeling of his breath fanning against your cheek.

it was nearing a year. a full eight months at your new school and a solid nine of knowing satoru. you were already planning something for your year anniversary.

friends did that, right? it wasn’t weird just because he was a boy.

speaking of boy, it didnt escape your knowledge that he was changing as time passed as well. he still held onto his boyish features but there was something different.

“did i miss your birthday?”

“huh?” the question surprises even him as he tilts his head to look at you.

time has made you better about not getting lost in his eyes, but it doesnt stop you from looking. not even the night sky can dim the ethereal shine.

your shoulder shrugs against him, “you know, when you get a year older? you told me you were sixteen so obviously those add up.”

he blinks,”oh, yeah i’m already seventeen.”

you dont expect the shock to be painful. when you sudden sit up, satoru makes a sound of protest but you ignore it in favor of leaning over him.

“you had a birthday and you didnt tell me?”

“i was here, you werent.”

he said it so matter of factly, as if it didnt pierce your heart with another blade.

you dont notice the tears until the first drop meets his cheek. satoru recoils immediately face pulled in confusion.

“why are you crying? you were at school.”

you knew you were a blubbering mess, snot slinging as you rub the back of your hand against your face uselessly. why was he so indifferent about it? did he not want you to celebrate with him?

“that doesn’t mean that i wouldn’t want to celebrate with you? am i not your friend, toru?”

satoru sits up at your question, rising to a height taller even as you sat side by side. you feel the gravel crumbling away from his palm before the skin of his hand. he doesnt seem to care about the wetness as his hand combs back to tuck away your hair.

“youre my everything.”

it feels like it should be taken more seriously but the moment is cut short when he pulls away, huffing as he rinses his hand off in the water.

“if you want to make it up to me, bring me something you’ve never brought me before.”

and then he smiles and your heart grows three times bigger.

you beg your parents to take you back home to sendai that weekend under the precipice of seeing your old friends.

the next day you bring back kikufuku.

satoru says he’ll forgives you for the next five birthdays.

you can only hope for more.

as summer approaches again, so does your birthday. your parents had conveniently waited until two weeks after before laying out the news of your move. last year you celebrated with old friends, and this year some new.

you still received some gifts from sendai. a plethora of little plushies and memories from the past. your new friendships here offered to throw you a small party, all gathered on your porch as you mother cut the cake.

you leaned into the kiss she life at the crown of your head, thanking her again for all the arrangements.

“i wish your summer friend could have come.”

“i plan to meet them later so it’s okay!”

after seeing your distress about birthdays, satoru had made a note to take them more seriously this time. he didn’t care if you had school, demanding that you come to the grotto before the day ended.

with a laugh you assured him that you were free and would meet at your usual time. it felt selfish to accept all your gifts and still crave whatever satoru had in store for you. much like you offered him, he promised to give you something new as well.

he gave you plenty of things over the past few months, aside from knowledge, an exchange of different shells and things lost at sea. you were growing a nice little collection in your room.

before leaving that evening after seeing off your friends, you took the time to make room on your shelf, prepared to add your new edition when you got home.

a late additional gift from your parents was a reprieve on your curfew, as long as you didn’t push the limits too far.

equipped with the best day ever that was only going to get better, you dashed towards the cave.

satoru had already drug out one of your blankets and spread it out for you.

“had a good day?”

with a giddy grin, you plopped down next to him. “the best!”

he smiles back, hand reaching out to caresses your cheek. you lean into the touch without prompting. there was no doubt that he could feel the light buzz of anticipation under your skin. the sound of his laughter confirmed it.

you bit your lips to try to contain it better as he took his time easing out of the water. you watched as the scales of his tail shimmered as he brought himself to sit next to you. for awhile the two of you just sat there as the sun dipped lower into the horizon.

and then satoru parted his lips.

and sang.

you dont know anything about siren songs or have any hymn books to follow but there was something different about this song. satoru was always hesitant to speak about the songs, not at all interested in delving into the history.

you were starting to wonder if this was why.

there was no longer a sensation of compulsion. the strings that had tugged you to his doorstep all those months ago. this song dipped into your veins and soaked you in everything that was satoru but also a bit of yourself. this wordless song felt like a mixture of you both.

it was both of you.

“toru…”

the song didnt stop as his face neared. his nosed brushed along the curve of your jaw and your head tilts up on instinct. its an invitation that he accepts full heartily as he continues to mouth the sound against the column of your throat.

the warmth under your skin felt as though it was burning when it came in contact with his constrasting temperature.

for the first time, his song was audible. the a single word as his lips brushed against yours.

your name.

the sensation of his chilled lips against yours prompted goosebumps- but the good kind you decided as you leaned in.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo blessings

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

Healer

warnings: feeling trapped, vague experimentation, pain

fifth part of my minecraft au! for this chapter, we jump back to the past! to a first meeting :)

Patton had been walking for a long, long time.

He wasn’t sure where, or why. When he tried to recall, his thoughts would slip out of reach like sand through his fingers. The world was blurry and indistinct, and no matter how long he wandered in the dark, nothing grew any clearer.

The light burned, and the water drowned, and he walked.

Occasionally, a creature that was different would appear, and he would amble along after it with a single minded focus. He’d never caught whatever it was, despite the frantic urging in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he did catch one, and that scared him as much as he could be scared, these days.

Perhaps he was right to be scared, because the next time he found one, it threw something at him!

The glass-shatter impact didn’t exactly hurt, but then there was a wetness left behind, and his limbs abruptly felt heavy and slow. The creature easily stayed out of range, but oddly enough, it didn’t leave.

No, it made sound after sound at him, staying close enough to draw him after it for much longer than any other he’d encountered.

And then, quite suddenly, he didn’t have space to walk anymore.

It took him a few moments to understand what had happened. There were cold metal walls around him, trapping him in a cell barely big enough to pace in.

He didn’t like it, the smallness. He didn’t like the way the strange creature came back again and again, close enough to make his mind turn to that strange violent urge. He especially didn’t like the creature’s glass-and-wet creations, and all the feelings that came with them.

… It was new, remembering things long enough to dislike them.

Over time, the creature’s voice became familiar, too. It would often chirp in excitement or groan in frustration. Sometimes, after a glass-and-wet test went wrong, it would come closer than usual and mumble in a way that made Patton’s chest twinge oddly.

The creature was particularly excited today, making those noises nonstop as it flitted about on the other side of the bars. It hummed the little tune that meant it was going to use a glass-and-wet, and Patton was surprised to find that he remembered this one, the way it made his balance go wobbly.

Unlike before, something cold and unfamiliar was pressed against his mouth. At the creature’s insistence, he consumed it, and immediately regretted as a sudden burning spread through him from the inside-out, as though he'd swallowed the sun itself.

Hours or days passed in a slow, roasting agony, and then, finally, it was over.

When Patton came back to consciousness, he was laying down, and everything was dark and numb. Not quite the dark of night, though.

There was a shuffle nearby, and he turned his head to the sound. He couldn't move very much.

“Ah. It seems you’re awake.” A presence settled at his side as he slowly processed the words. “Can you tap your pointer finger twice for me? It is alright if it takes some time.”

It took longer than expected to remember where his hand was, and longer still to force the space where his fingers should be into feeling. The taps ended up being more like small flickers, but there was a sense of accomplishment nonetheless.

“You—!” The presence cut off sharply, a sudden tension in their words. “Please, could you repeat that action? Two taps, no more or less.”

Patton’s brow wrinkled slightly in focus, the motions coming easier.

Tap. Tap.

There was a ragged inhale, their voice suddenly wavering. “How about three taps?”

Exhaustion was pulling at him, but he thought the voice was familiar, and desperate, and so he managed three taps, almost on an even rhythm.

“It worked.” A warm hand gently settled over his. “It worked! I did it, you can— you can hear me. You can understand me.”

There was something distressing about the hitch in their voice, but Patton was settling back into heavy sleep, and he only managed to twitch his hand under theirs before going under once more.

There were more tests, every time he woke.

Some of them were easy! He would shuffle his feet, count out taps, figure out which limb gentle pressure was being applied to. Over time, feeling came back to his numb flesh, and movement became more and more frequent.

Some of them were more difficult. He’d lose time trying to form complex sentences, feel consumed by sudden fits of claustrophobia, shy away from the sensation of the sun’s heat. He couldn’t respond to even a single question about his past, and day by day, his memories of his time as… not-so-human faded away as well.

Through it all, the stranger who had introduced himself as Logan was at his side, giving him clear instructions and careful support on every task.

He’d learned a lot about the type of person Logan was, day by day. He talked to himself a lot, sometimes clear and sometimes dipping into a thoughtful mutter. It seemed like he’d been alone for a long time. He’d often make a noise of startlement when Patton responded to his rambling, be it through a tap or a simple hum. He always told Patton what he was doing before he touched him, and explained what he was trying to learn when he ran the tests. He kept odd hours but never let himself sound tired.

Patton knew a lot about Logan, but he still didn’t know what Logan looked like. He’d been wearing the blindfold since he’d first woken up out of the cage, and it was the only restraint-- if a strip of cloth over his eyes could be called that-- to remain after all these days. It was the one thing Logan hadn’t explained.

Physically, Patton felt stronger by the day. Emotionally, he wasn’t sure where he would go or what he would do when the tests stopped being necessary. He trusted Logan, though, and more than that, he wanted to help him, after all that he’d gone through for Patton.

He wasn’t quite sure if that trust went both ways, though. Not yet.

“Logan?” he asked, shuffling his shoulders up the headboard of his bed so that he was closer to sitting upright. He reached up to touch the blindfold. “This... off?”

Across the room, the familiar sound of Logan flipping through a book cut off sharply. There was a long moment of silence.

“At your current level of motor skills, yes, you could,” Logan finally settled on, words carefully measured and even. “However, while you are staying with me, I would prefer it if… if you didn’t.”

“Why?” Patton pressed.

Another pause. “I believe that if you see me, you might become… alarmed. And I have no wish to upset or frighten you, particularly while you’re still recovering.”

“Logan,” Patton said, both concerned and a little exasperated. “Not scary. Want this... off. Help?”

“... Very well.” Logan’s voice went stiff as he moved to sit next to Patton, and when his hands carefully unknotted the blindfold, they were rigid like he was tensing for a blow. His cold demeanor was somewhat undercut by the way he automatically moved his arm to keep the day’s light from blinding Patton.

After a few blinks to adjust, the first thing that came into focus was Logan’s hand, carefully loose at his side, and the white, jagged scar lines that marked it. A witch mark, clear as anything.

The next thing he saw was Logan’s face, jaw set harshly and eyes focused on him as though waiting for the inevitable reaction. He could have hidden the mark away, but he was baring it for the world to see, even though he was sure it would be rejected. His loneliness made a lot more sense, suddenly. Patton felt a fond smile pull at his lips as he reached a shaky hand out in greeting.

“Hi, Logan.” The familiar warmth and gentleness of that hand washed away any lingering doubts about his new, not-entirely-human friend. “Still not... scary.”

Logan’s face flickered through a few strange expressions, and wasn’t that going to be interesting, learning a whole new set of tells for him? When he spoke, there was a strange, distantly familiar tremble to his words. “You may be the only one who thinks so.”

Patton frowned at him, squeezing his friend’s hand a little tighter before a flicker of motion on the windowsill caught his eye. A high pitched noise erupted from him completely involuntarily. “Cat!”

The cat in question, a little creature with sleek black fur, eyed him curiously. Logan cleared his throat, reaching out his free hand. The kitty leapt down and ambled over to butt her head into the hand like they were two magnets. “Ah, yes. This is my familiar. Her name is Glowstone.”

The excitement was too much. Patton had to take a moment to compose himself, words tripping over each other and becoming garbled nonsense. He watched with a grin as Glowstone settled gently in her witch’s lap. “Two!”

“Sorry?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Two friends,” Patton told him, gesturing quite seriously between him and the golden-eyed cat. “A good start.”

Logan shook his head, unable to hide the little amused upturn to his lips. “If you say so.”

He did say so. And if Patton had his way, there’d be many more friends to come.

#minecraft au #sanders sides #ts logan #ts patton #My writing #writing #logan's witch mark is a lichtenberg figure!

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princesspiratecat · 3 years ago

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The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 22: Spring, 1083

(This is a long one, but hopefully worth the read!)

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21

Never before had Gwendolyn felt so happy as she did when her sister had arrived to visit her at her little hovel. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears from flowing, and soon both of them were wiping them away.

After the servant had left, Gwyn had demanded to know everything, but Gwendolyn didn’t know where to begin. There was so much to tell, and all of it pained her to speak of.

“Is this really where you are now residing? This little hovel?” Gwyn turned a discerning eye towards the house as they walked nearer to it, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush with shame. She had tried to keep it neat and tidy, but there wasn’t much she could do without a proper set of tools. The hovel was just too poorly constructed for even the most basic of shelters. It felt like a blessing when the weather had finally turned and she no longer had to worry about rain falling on her bed. She could only hope it would not snow or rain again.

“I’m afraid so. The day of my birthday Marcelle hastily had my bags packed and drove me here in a covered wagon. He told me this would be my new home after we arrived. I should have suspected something that morning based on his behavior.....but I fear, I blindly trusted him.”

“Do not blame yourself. How could you have known what he was going to do? This has taken us all by surprise. When I found out you had been sent away, I could hardly believe it. It is Marcelle that must take the blame, not you.” As they reached the front room, Gwendolyn stoked the fire and began to prepare a meal, as the sun would be setting soon and she imagined her sister must be hungry. She immediately noticed how much food there was in the basket, and it was of better quality than what she normally was given.

“What do you mean, us? How did you come to find out that I was here in the first place?” They sat down to a nice hot bowl of soup Gwendolyn had made from a fat hare she had caught yesterday.

“I didn’t. Francine wrote about a month ago, and the letter had been given to me by Oswin.”

“Oswin? You mean, Oswald’s younger brother?”

“The very same, yes. I had thought it strange that she hadn’t invited me to visit her for such a long time, but in the letter she explained that she had suddenly been forbidden to see me by Marcelle, yet didn’t say why. In her next letter, she told me that the engagement had been broken off, and you had been sent away, but that she didn’t know where you had gone. When I confronted Aélfgiva about seeing you, she said she would talk to Marcelle. Not long afterwards, he wrote to say that a servant would fetch me in the morning to take me to you, and here I am.”

The humiliation that Gwendolyn had endured upon being sent off was awful in and of itself, but the idea that her entire family was now somehow tainted, and not good enough to associate with any of the Allards, hurt her even more. “ I had not thought that my exile had been extended to my entire family. This is worse than I had imagined.”

“What exactly did he say to you? How did he justify his actions!? How could he bring you to this shithole, in the middle of a forest?!”

Slowly, Gwendolyn revealed all that her sister did not yet know. She tried not to dwell on the parts of the story that were especially painful, and rushed through his unkind words when he had dragged their family down to the mud, implying that they were nothing. She found it was nearly impossible for her to say the exact words he had said about their father, because the loss of him was still fresh pain for both of them. But somehow she got through it all, and then shared how she now viewed everything.

“This hovel....this dung heap of a house, is his feeling about me, about us- made manifest and clear. But it’s worse than our house was. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to endure. And I was left alone to fend for myself when the snow storm came. I had to find food for myself, otherwise I would have starved.”

There was such anger on her sister’s face at hearing those words. “What about your dowry?! We had so many excellent animals. Surely it was worth more than this!”

“Oh Gwyn.....don’t you see? This is my dowry. This hovel is now all that I have....” Putting her troubles into words made them all the more real and soon Gwendolyn could not stop the sobs from violently shaking her body again. She got up and leaned her head against the counter, as the tears just kept on coming.

Gwyn said nothing, but silently cried as well.

“I’ve been clinging to the idea of Frances for months now. And I cannot understand why he hasn’t come to see me, even if it’s just to say goodbye. Am I really so terrible that I do not deserve such simple consideration? How can I be his future bride one day, and the next not even fit to say a single word to him? I cannot make sense of it......” she was sobbing so hard now that she could not continue.

“Oh, please don’t upset yourself further. I do not believe Frances has any idea where you are”, said Gwyn. That got her attention and her head snapped up.

“What!?”

“I do not believe any of them know. Marcelle must have kept it a secret from all of them, because if one of them knew, they would all find out. Frédérique would never keep a secret like that from her brother, nor would Francine. The letter that she sent made it clear. He could not write to you, so she wrote to me. And that is why Marcelle forbade any of them from speaking to any of us.”

“I had not considered that. But....you must be right.”

“Perhaps that is also why Marcelle sent me a map and allowed me to see you. He still thinks that his children will blindly obey him. Indeed, he must feel very comfortable with that idea, which is why he didn’t think it necessary to keep you and I apart any longer. If his children don’t speak to us, he has no reason to continue punishing you.”

“Yes. He may also not want to be seen as the type of man who punishes two young girls who have done nothing wrong. I noticed how he sent a lot more food, of higher quality this time around. He even sent linens. He has never done that before. He wants to appear the good benefactor still- at least to you and Aélfgiva.”

After a long silence Gwendolyn gained some composure of herself and sat down by the fire again, staring into the orange flickering flames. It gave her some relief to know that Frances didn’t know where she was, and perhaps hadn’t given into his father so easily. Everything her sister had said made perfect sense.

“I like to think that Marcelle has some heart left. I like to think that he still cares about us. Only his pride got in the way", said Gywn. Her sentiments may have been true, but Gwendolyn no longer wished to think about him. It was now time to turn their minds to the task of getting her out, and how they would accomplish that.

“I must speak with Frances. I must. I have had so long to ponder the situation, if I don’t get any answers, I fear I will lose my mind and go mad.”

"Of course you shall. And I will assist you in any way that I can.”

The next morning they poured over the map and calculated that Gwendolyn had been taken over twenty miles from the Allard estate to the hovel, which was in the middle of two very small villages that neither had heard of. Having no money and few resources, the main obstacle in her leaving would be where she would go. She could not stay at the orphanage, and of course going back to the estate was impossible.

“If only you had parted on better terms with Oswald, then perhaps we could ask his family”, Gwyn said.

“What better way could there have been? Oswald did not want to break off the engagement for any reason. I tried to spare his feelings as best as I could, but given that I hadn’t seen him for so long....it was difficult. I realized that day that he had changed beyond recognition to me, and I no longer knew him.”

��You have been engaged most of your life to someone, and yet still remain unmarried. Do you not ever wish you had married Oswald instead? At least you would not be alone now.”

Gwendolyn’s features clouded into sadness, as she had realized the same thing her sister spoke of from the very beginning of her troubles. Her life seemed to consist of always waiting, always hoping, always dreaming of having a family of her own and finding that she belonged somewhere, and she resented it.

“Maybe, but would I have been happy? What Frances and I had was real, and what Oswald and I had was a youthful fancy. I know that now that I am older. I can never go back.”

When they tallied up their resources, it was decided that Gwyn would return home when the servant came to fetch her, as was planned. She would then combine the meager allowance she and Edith were given at the orphanage, and income from the pelts of the animals Gwendolyn had caught, and try to procure a horse. Then she would ride back and come and fetch her sister, then they would ride to Grimsby. She would speak with Frances at any cost and Gwyn agreed that it was imperative that she do so- even if it meant further punishment from Marcelle.

The next morning was a cold one, and snow began again to fall upon the ground, but only lightly. Despite the foul weather she knew she would have to shelter herself from, she felt better than she had in months.

“You have Mama’s strength, and you will get through this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She tenderly embraced her sister goodbye, and watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller as it slowly disappeared down the road, which was beginning to freeze. She sat down upon a log and got lost in her thoughts, contemplating how happy the visit had made her. It had brought her comfort, relief from her loneliness, and hope all at once. She was lucky that she still had some family left, even if they were orphans now. I’m not alone. I have the love of my sisters.

She turned to head into the house, but then heard a horse in the distance and stopped to listen. It was the sound of a single horse, and she wondered if something had gone wrong with the wagon. Was her sister in trouble? The sound grew closer and closer, and she headed back down the path to the road, shivering slightly in the cold. But it was not the servant or her sister on this horse. It was Frances.

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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maomao-words · 5 years ago

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Inspiration hit me a few days ago and all I felt like doing was write for the MLQC fandom! (=・ω・=)

So here I am! I will hopefully post some of my other writings soon too!

But for now, I hope you enjoy these (●'◡'●)ﾉ

MLQC Boys as Bodyguards: (Victor, Lucien, Kiro and Gavin)

Victor:

Weapons: A handgun equipped with a silencer and a katana which has your initials engraved on its black handle.

Background: Victor is the top ranked bodyguard known in the high society. Your family had to go through a prolonged battle of wits and money with numerous other important figures just to be able to hire Victor as your bodyguard. Dominating and commanding, Victor’s distinct aura screams authority and power for all who lay their eyes on him. Just his name is enough to deter countless of those who were planning to harm you. Those stupid enough to still risk attacking with Victor at your side simply dug their own graves and were not even able to get any information on your whereabouts, let alone spill your blood.

Fighting style: Victor does not mess around. His words are the law and the law you shall follow. He has been handed the duty of protecting you and he has no intention of wasting his time on indulging you in your risky adventures and whimsical decisions. He gets to decide everything that concerns your safety and all you have to do, in order to continue surviving, is to obey his orders. An advice? Do not attempt to rebel against him. It will only result in him convincing your father to leave you in charge of several business-related projects that will bound you to your office for no less than six months.

With his intricate network of acquaintances and allies of important and powerful figures, it is only rarely that Victor gets to fight directly in order to protect you. Victor is highly skilled in predicting threats and eliminating them before they even fully manifest. In those scarce moments where an enemy is powerful enough to get near you, Victor is considered as the last and ultimate defense line. He likes to execute his attacks silently and calmly. One shot to the heart will quickly seal the deal, save Victor’s efforts and protect you from needless scenes of blood and violence. Many enemies have mistaken the handgun as Victor’s main weapon, disregarding the katana as a mere ornament, and focused most of their manpower on disarming him. This mistake is what usually leads to their complete annihilation. Victor’s katana which he carries with him at all times is in fact his cherished lifeline as it is efficient, practical and does not run out of lethality.

Off duty: Victor’s off duty routine is not that far from his day to day habitual activities. He remains in full control of all things and does not seem to recognize the real meaning of being off the clock. The one thing that does change, however, is that Victor gets sweeter and gentler with you. If you have been an obedient master for the past few days, Victor will make sure to reward you with a taste of his cooking which you absolutely love.

With Victor at your side, just sit back and relax since danger is no longer a possible happening in your world. I do hope however that you are ready to pay the “price” of this absolute safety as Victor is not cheap by all means.

Lucien:

Weapons: A sniper rifle with a high-precision for ranged attacks and a handgun for close combat.

Background: Lucien is the bodyguard you cannot read most. At days, you even wonder whether he is really on your side or simply lurking in your shadows to eventually kill you. His eyes betray none of his thoughts and his hands, cold yet tender as they wrap around your waist to guide you through dangerous situations, seem to be always covered in blood yet somehow still feel as gentle as a feather on your skin. Lucien is a riddle that you are ready to spend your whole life solving, even if the chances of winning are close to none.

Fighting Style: Lucien mostly prefers to situate himself in the shadows of the roof a tall building and strike the enemy with one shot of his rifle from a distance. Lucien is known to dislike close combat; a fact several of your enemies sought to exploit only to discover that Lucien is as merciless with his fists as he is with his rifle. He just dislikes getting blood on his suit and would prefer to avoid that.

Mysterious and charming, you will not be able to get your eyes off of Lucien no matter how much his actions scream treason and suspicion. Because no matter how much his plots and schemes seem to be leading you to death, he will always appear at the very last second and gets you out of harm’s way, with a gorgeous smile in tow. Lucien’s existence is like a deadly poison to you, and you are just addicted to him.

Off duty: Lucien’s role in your life extends from a talented bodyguard and assassin to your own personal butler. He takes care of delivering and managing all the important papers and documents sent to you and even offers his own advice on different business-related matters. He also manages your personal schedule and private affairs, from meals and sleeping times to clothing choices and hairdresser appointments. Lucien is a highly qualified aid so do listen carefully to him. You will not regret following the plans he draw. Despite it all, however, there are also moments where Lucien seems to open up to you, moments where his eyes, usually two bottomless voids of blackness, suddenly clear up and his smile gets softer as he gazes at you cooking or playfully petting his cat. Those moments, although scarce and rare, are your most cherished possessions and you won’t exchange them for the world.

With Lucien by your side, you must get used to courting danger. Just never question why you are enjoying hell as you keep on dancing with the devil.

Kiro:

Weapons: A mini laptop and a dagger with a golden handle with your initials engraved on it. He also carries a handgun in case of emergencies.

Background: Kiro seems to be your best friend who just happens to also be your bodyguard. Right from the start, Kiro seemed to win your heart in a blink of an eye and you formed an inseparable duo ever since. Thanks to his bubbly personality and sunshine-like smile, you just can’t help but smile and giggle whenever you are around Kiro. Nevertheless, despite the numerous years you spent by his side, you are still startled by the drastic changes Kiro display when it is necessary for him to activate his bodyguard mode and discard his tender smile and gentle touches.

Fighting style: Don’t be tempted. Kiro’s lovely smile and gorgeous looks are nothing but a deadly trap for those who wish you harm. Kiro will not hesitate to use them to his benefit, attracting them before slicing their throats with a cold smile on his face. He usually takes care of all threats as soon as they start to bud and before they even reach the range of a kilometer close to you. With his trusty laptop in hand, Kiro will manipulate, hack and destroy whatever he deems dangerous. Your villa’s top notch security is also established and managed by Kiro, so rest assured, no intruder will be able to set foot into your backyard without being shot or electrified to death.

Off duty: Once his job is finished, Kiro will turn back to his sunshine self in a blink of an eye and will turn to you with his twinkling eyes and jumps on you, asking for a bear hug. Kiro’s off duty routine mostly consists in eating unhealthy snacks, watching hero movies with you and challenging you in silly video games. If the coast is safe enough for you to leave the house, Kiro will definitely accompany you to movies, to attraction parks, to zoos and to basically wherever you wish to go. If there is any sign of danger, Kiro will coop up with you at home and keep you entertained all the while keeping an eye out on you and making sure the threat that is forbidding you both from having your usual dates is dead and buried before the 12 hours mark even passes.

I hope you like sugar and fluffy sweets because that’s how life will taste like with Kiro by your side. Ah, but don’t forget! Even teddy bears have sharp claws!

Gavin:

Weapons: A handgun and a mercenary knife with a silver handle that you personally picked for him.

Background: Gavin seems as the calm, collected and detached type of bodyguard at the start. When he first started working for your family, he simply performed his duties to a perfection, protected you to the best of his abilities and then completely detached himself from you as soon as he was off duty. You initially thought that he was uninterested in building an actual relationship with you and respected the distance he drew between you. But as time went by, you discovered that, contrary to your assumptions, Gavin was just too clumsy in his attempt to get close to you and ended up cutting you off instead of bringing you to him. This awkward yet sincere confession came from a very red-faced Gavin as he lay on top of you trying to shield you from bullets. His clumsiness managed to win you heart and your relationship started to change for the better ever since.

Fighting style: Gavin is a proficient all-rounded soldier. He is perfectly capable of tracking and hunting down enemies, leading and coordinating between security teams as well as shielding and protecting allies. Gavin is sure to secure the safety of his client regardless of the threat he faces. He prefers close combat as he is highly competent in hand to hand battles as well as street brawls. He is also extremely skillful with his gun, using it mostly to secure an escape route for you in cases of ambushes and, in extreme situations, shoot down any threat on the spot. Gavin does not kill until he deems the situation necessary. He values human life and continuously encourage you not to hold grudges and not to consider the world as a mere violent and bloody realm.

Off duty: Off duty, Gavin’s more laid back and boyish charms come to the surface. He likes exercising in his free time and welcomes you with open arms if you come to him for private self-defense lessons. Gavin also enjoys playing video games with you and does not hesitate to let you win just to receive one of your hugs as a reward. When it comes to his butler skills, however, he is at the same low level of Kiro. He once attempted to bake a cake for you, ended up burning half of the kitchen’s ceiling and was banned from getting close to a stove for the rest of his life by you.

Just get used to the feeling of safety because Gavin is willing to risk his life for you. So let him spoil you.

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc hcs #mr love victor #mr love lucien #mr love kiro #mr love gavin

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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

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PatB Nova Ch 7

Ch 7: Perturb

AN: This chapter’s somehow got long so a lot of stuff I wanted to originally place here’s going in the next one.

FFN Link

Terran Date 2015.4.23

Since I currently lack access to my regular equipment, I’m making do with an audio recording program from a Terran computer. I must admit it’s not nearly as efficient as my usual method, but it will have to suffice.

Pinky is an…interesting host. I won’t deny that he’s rather generous, and the delicacy he identified as cream cheese is surprisingly palatable. I’ve also taken up residence in his cage which he also kindly offered for my use as a safe place to sleep. The sponge bed has been moved to the cage per my request.

Objective assessment of Pinky: his species is a lab mouse, his eyes have to be some odd mutation because it cannot be possible for them to be that blue, and he’s an amiable idiot. As I’m recording this, he’s currently scolding two inanimate objects for their failure to keep the cage clean in his absence.

Today’s goal: Pinky is planning for a trip to the local mall to obtain a hat to wear for the Derby. Once again, it’s an illogical custom I am unfamiliar with. I’ve agreed to accompany him for two purposes. The first, clues on Snowball’s whereabouts. And the second, to gather intel on Terran habits for world domination purposes. Snowball and I will be able to put my information to good use when we’re reunited.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Getting lost, losing communications, and the unrelenting solitude were the major dangers of setting foot outside of Penumbra. Only the first two conditions applied now.

Pinky leapt through the mail slot and danced along the pavement. He wore a lavender blouse that left his shoulders exposed, his shorts made of a Terran material called denim. Apparently, this excursion was also an opportunity to make a fashion statement. But Brain didn’t see the practicality of Pinky’s clothes. The silly Terran stepped on an odd rock here and there, but his twirls didn’t slow down. Just looking at him made Brain slightly dizzy.

Thin, white clouds drifted lazily in the vast blue sky far above them. Brain looked up, one hand on his brow to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. New Selene and the stars weren’t visible, though they were somewhere much higher than the sky.

He squinted and lowered his gaze to the ground, dark spots forming in his vision and making everything rather blurry.

Brain had switched his jumpsuit and gloves for a Terran disguise, a simple red shirt and another pair of denim shorts, both items borrowed from Pinky’s large collection of outfits. But since Pinky’s legs were longer, the shorts technically functioned more like pants, and the shirt was knee-length. Though it was comfortable, so he went along with it for now.

Besides, Pinky had been shockingly adamant about the jumpsuit and gloves needing a wash. Brain had protested at first since the material had anti-olfactory functions built in, but Pinky insisted and Brain agreed if only to shut up the Terran.

Procuring formal clothes for conquest would just have to wait.

And there was another issue he hadn’t anticipated.

Everything was so colorful and loud. He was so used to everything being muted and dark. Already he missed the ever present hum of the lab technology, and he’d barely set foot outside the door. Brain stood on the coarse welcome mat, on the border between safety and the unknown.

He was just grateful his accelerated healing kicked in overnight, and the bandages were no longer necessary.

“Come on, Brain!” Pinky shouted as he skipped along the pavement, careful to avoid all the cracks. “The sidewalk is great! Just don’t step on the crack, or you’ll break your mama’s back!”

Brain scowled. “My mother is on a different planet entirely, if she hasn’t already fallen victim to the many dangers of the natural world. Stepping on a cracked rock here on Terra will have no effect on her skeletal structure. The two actions are entirely uncorrelated.”

“The corals are related?” Pinky gasped, hands flying to his mouth in genuine surprise. “I knew they looked similar!”

There was absolutely no reasoning with him, was there?

A large, sleek metal structure roared down the large stretch of pavement in front of them, a cloud of smoke trailing behind it as it rounded a corner and disappeared. It wasn’t his first time seeing one of those vehicles, since they’d been peppered throughout the satellite images he’d viewed back on Penumbra.

A car. One of the forms of land-based transportation on Terra, Brain recalled from the file on Terran technology. Highly practical for traveling long distances.

Cars were much larger in person. The images made them seem so tiny.

And once again, he found himself woefully lacking essential information. Did cars function similarly to a rover? How did it zoom by so quickly? What was the power source?

He looked up at the sky again, but the sunlight had somehow gotten stronger during his pondering, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“Poit. Your eyes are so squinty, Brain!” Pinky lightly tapped Brain’s head, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Don’t look directly into the sun. It’s bad for your eyes and you’d need to eat lots and lots of carrots to fix them and then your fur will turn orange!”

“A side effect of all this light,” Brain replied, making a mental note that carrots were an edible item that caused orange fur. He’d have to avoid them in the future. “I’m fine. Let’s depart for this…mall.”

The word felt strange on his tongue. But his feet wouldn’t leave the safety of the welcome mat.

“I’d love for you to come along, but if you’d rather not, that’s fine too,” Pinky said. There was a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice though, but he still seemed as sunny as the actual star. It was somewhat unsettling.

“Won’t you join my little expedition, Brain?” Snowball wrapped an arm around Brain’s shoulders. Fine mist trailed from the aisam’s claws, surrounding them with an icy chill that traveled up Brain’s spine and settled into his fur. “The road to Eclipse Lab is awfully barren and I could use a little company. Perhaps we could test our skills with star identification along the way.”

Brain shoved him away and Snowball clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“For the last time, I’m n-not interested in visiting that horrible, scrik-ridden m-mess of a lab, Snowball. If you wish to leave New Selene sometime in the next cycle, you will allow me to fine-tune the propulsion system in peace,” Brain retorted, hating the tremor in his voice caused by a brief yet violent case of the shivers. He picked up a wrench and examined it for overuse damage, turning his back on Snowball so he wouldn’t see Brain’s hands tremble.

Whether it was from the cold or the mere thought of setting foot in the place where he’d been prodded and restrained by long, claw-like fingers, he couldn’t say.

“You can’t be an invertebrate, Brain,” Snowball grumbled. His disappointment was palpable, and Brain’s fingers tightened around the wrench. “Our combined intellect is unparalleled and far superior to those imbecilic Terrans. Whatever it takes to rule, whatever it takes to wear the crown, we must seize it by any means possible.”

Then he was gone, and the Conquistador’s silent frame became Brain’s steadfast companion.

“Earth to Brain! Oh sorry, should I say Terra to Brain instead? Come in, Terra to Brain! This is Lieutenant Pinky reporting in! Over!”

Pinky was suddenly in front of his face, and Brain leapt back in surprise. He must’ve been lost in his ponderings again. Pinky held something behind his back, something bright and yellow poking out near his tail.

“Yes, Pinky. I hear you,” Brain sighed. Then Pinky showed him the item behind his back, and it turned out to be the oddest pair of safety goggles Brain had ever seen in his life. The star-shaped frame was yellow and provided little protection for the nose, and the lens were tinted dark instead of clear. “These goggles are highly impractical for technical work.”

“They’re sunglasses actually. Slipped inside and grabbed ‘em while you were pandering. I use these if I’m playing movie star-slash-chiropractor! Try them on!” Pinky said. Deciding it was best to humor him, Brain slid on the glasses, and his vision became a shade darker. The colors were still there, just not as bright. The headache that had threatened to form dissipated into nothingness.

“This is bearable,” Brain said. Pinky was slightly darker as well, though the tinted lens did nothing to diminish his shining blue eyes.

Pinky clapped his hands in glee. “Exactly! Also works for grizzlies and honey bears and teddies! And now you’re a movie star too!”

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping his antennae back so they didn’t get in the way. “That’s not a classification of any star. Despite your questionable logic, and I use that word in a fairly liberal sense, the color spectrum of your planet is no longer a strain on my eyes. So…thanks.”

“Aww! You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky said. “And really, you can wear them in the lab too. I don’t mind.”

“No, Pinky. I’m coming along. I have goals to accomplish during this trip,” Brain said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the welcome mat, then hopped off the step and onto the pavement.

It wasn’t as difficult as his mind made it out to be.

Pinky laughed, and Brain barely got out of the way in time before several ounces of idiosyncrasies could crash into him.

Brain wouldn’t get anything done by sitting around and being too afraid to leave the lab’s safe haven. Somewhere underneath the massive sky, Snowball was likely planning his own day’s activities. And today, they’d be taking the first steps to conquer Terra.

Through any means possible.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain prided himself on his keen observation skills, something that would serve him well when he and Snowball finally exploited the inhabitants’ many weaknesses. Pinky considered it a ‘a blousery, blustery, beautiful day’, whatever that meant, and skipped to and fro in every direction to take in the sights of the city. Brain kept him in view at all times, not wanting to be left alone in this strange world.

He quickly found that the word ‘Terrans’ failed to encapsulate the biodiversity of the planet, in addition to individual differences between members of the same species. Humans varied greatly in size, shape, and appearance, though even the tallest ones weren’t nearly as large as a Selenian. Some had their heads buried in their devices with cords going into their ears and were oblivious to their surroundings, and Brain had to keep an eye out for those dangerous folks since they didn’t seem to care about anyone in their path.

While inconvenient for him, their failure to pay attention could easily be turned into an advantage.

Several humans walked alongside quadrupedal creatures that sniffed the ground and had collars and ropes around their necks that led to a handle in the human’s hand. Pinky called them ‘dogs’ and ‘leashes’. He was more than happy to clarify anything Brain didn’t understand, and while he figured that he would have to research Terra more in-depth later, Pinky’s happy explanations were sufficient for now.

Brain firmly held Pinky’s hand as they passed by a human and a golden-furred dog with large paws and a long, panting tongue. The dog sniffed them curiously and made a ‘groomph’ noise, and though it didn’t seem hostile, Brain dragged Pinky away before the dog had the opportunity to slobber all over them.

But even the ‘goldy’, as Pinky called it, was more preferable to the tiny, yappy thing that Pinky identified as a ‘Chi-wa-wa’. At least it was yanked back by its leash before it could give chase to them.

Pinky called himself a mouse, and his friend Pharfignewton was a horse. Two species down.

The flying creatures were pigeons, crows, and sparrows. They ate whatever they could scavenge on the ground. The tiny things that scurried around his feet were insects, and Pinky yanked him back from stepping on a sidewalk crack filled with red and black ‘ants’.

“Fire ants will make your feet itchy and tingly!” he warned. “And not the pleasant kind either!”

Brain committed his warning to memory.

Cars crawled by slowly on the street, packed closely as far as the eye could see. They made odd screeching noises from time to time, the humans inside grumpily slamming their palms against their steering devices.

Lights on every corner controlled the flow of cars. Everyone became furious with red and brightened when it was green. He wasn’t exactly sure what yellow was supposed to do since some cars sped right past and others came to a stop. Regardless, humans were dependent on those lights in their vehicles. It was an interesting observation.

There were plenty of additional rules too, which Pinky was adamant on teaching. Only cross at the white strips at the lights, and only when the red hand changed to the green human. Look left, right, then left again before crossing. Pat your head and rub your belly if you see an out-of-state license plate…well, Brain was pretty sure that wasn’t a safety rule since none of the humans were doing it. Just a Pinky thing then.

Everything was alive, from the structures that creaked on the highest buildings to the scattered pebbles underfoot. While he’d known the planet’s atmosphere carried sound far better than New Selene’s, experiencing it for himself was nothing short of fascinating. He’d have to research the exact composition that made it all possible later. Energy flowed towards him in all directions, though the daytime thankfully masked his glowing orbs.

Blending in wasn’t difficult either. Humans were more oblivious than he thought.

“Last corner, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, twirling happily as they waited for the signal to cross the busy intersection. “Then we’re at the mall! You’ll love it! There’s food and clothing and perfume and toys and-“

“Pinky, what exactly is the purpose of a mall?” Brain asked. Pinky had been rather unclear on that. Mostly he’d just been gushing about all the fun things they could do.

“To do fun fun silly-willy things with your friends and look at stuff you can never afford on a lab mouse’s salary, of course!” Pinky replied.

The signal to cross finally appeared, and Pinky skipped merrily across the white strip, nimbly avoiding getting trampled by several humans walking in the opposite direction. Brain walked at a normal pace, keeping his tail close to his body. He didn’t trust the distracted humans to watch where they were going, especially since their handheld devices seemed to hold more importance than avoiding getting run over heavy wheels.

As Brain stepped onto the sidewalk, an odd texture struck him on the head, knocking his sunglasses askew. Several drops of a lukewarm liquid splashing onto his fur. It didn’t hurt, but it was still an unpleasant surprise. The human next to him didn’t notice. He was too busy yelling into his device and gesturing wildly, then stomped off in a huff. He almost trampled Pinky, who barely managed to pull his tail out of the way before the man’s large foot crushed it.

“Well, he was certainly rude. He littered and didn’t say sorry for dropping the cup on your head!” Pinky complained as he helped Brain to his feet, his blue eyes narrowed at the man’s back as he disappeared into the crowd. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in the man’s general direction. “Hey, litterbug! I bet your mom’s older than you! Narf!”

He gave a firm nod, satisfied with his ludicrous and underwhelming insult.

A furious Pinky. That was an interesting concept, yet anger and Pinky somehow remained mutually exclusive in Brain’s mind.

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said, wiping the liquid away from the base of his antennae. He returned his sunglasses to the proper position. “He’s long gone. I’ve suffered worse.”

Pinky took a deep breath, then took a sniff of the cup’s opening and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so grumpy or litterbuggy if he put more sugar in his cappuccino,” he sighed. “Styrofoam too. Can’t recycle that.”

Dragging the cup over to a nearby garbage can, Pinky hoisted it over his head and trying to stick it through the hole on top. The cup was barely over the rim, Pinky clinging to the metal with one hand and scrabbling for a foothold. He wasn’t giving up without a fight, so Brain grabbed Pinky’s ankles to give him the extra boost needed to push the cup in.

Pinky climbed down once he heard the dull thud from inside the can. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, though he still seemed unusually morose.

Brain walked into a section lined with vegetation and dirt that separated the street from the mall. But Pinky didn’t follow. He was looking into the direction they came from. “The cup’s in the proper place now. Let’s go, Pinky.”

Instead of following Brain, Pinky moved to the curbside, looking down at his feet. Really. Pinky came to the mall for a purpose, however inane it was. He needed to commit to that goal.

Brain growled in frustration, grasping his wayward companion’s wrist and pulling him in the mall’s direction. Pinky stumbled, but hardly budged otherwise. “Quit being stubborn, Pinky. The sun will burn out before you twitch a finger at this rate.”

“But the rest of it…“ Pinky whimpered, pointing to the street.

The road was filled with cups like the one Pinky had just thrown away. Filthy, damp, and unreadable papers lined the curb. A plastic bag tumbled in the wind. There were even a few objects that might’ve been clothing at one point.

Some people passed them by without a care in the world, others clicked their tongue at the mess but hurried on their way. Two people on the other side of the intersection were clothed in white from head to toe, picking away at the garbage with long sticks and depositing them into large bags.

From the sheer amount of garbage that lined the streets, Brain thought it was a futile effort on their part.

This was one of Terra’s downsides. Its inhabitants were destroying the very planet they lived on. It was one of the few observations the Selenian scientists were accurate about.

Pinky reached for a mass of papers, a revolting yellowish-green grime covering its surface, but Brain pulled him back before he could touch it.

“Don’t touch that with your bare hands, Pinky,” Brain scolded. “It’s unsanitary.”

Pinky pouted. Now obstinance. He shifted moods rather quickly, didn’t he? It was baffling.

“We gotta take care of Mother Earth, Brain!” Pinky protested as Brain dragged him into the vegetation. “Or there won’t be any pretty flowers to sniff and the acorn and pinecone elves won’t ever set aside their differences to sign that peace treaty!”

“The databank contained many details regarding the pollution of Terra, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “So I’m aware of the issue. But cleaning this one street would take time we can’t spare. You’re being sidetracked from your goal, and I can’t achieve my own objectives either.”

“Wait…” Pinky murmured. “You’re gonna rule soon, aren’t you? So you can definitely protect the world! That’s wonderful, Brain! I know you can do it!”

The sudden shift in mood caught Brain off-guard.

I can? Brain almost said, but the hope shining in Pinky’s eyes quelled that uncertain response. There was nothing but sincere admiration in that pool of blue, a massive surge of electrons flowing from Pinky’s chest into Brain’s antennae.

He would dare describe the electrons as a positive charge. How? Electrons were supposed to be negative! What kind of anomaly did he have the terrifying pleasure of knowing?

Brain cleared his throat, focusing on the enormous sprawling complex in front of them. Pinky’s blind faith was off-putting, and it was much easier to disregard it. “Of course. I will have unquestionable power in the near-future. Solving these issues will be easier than calibrating an auto-navigation interface.”

Pinky blinked.

“And…I’ll oversee those peace treaty negotiations between the elves.”

Pinky brightened immediately. “Thank you, Brain! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Long arms snagged Brain and lifted him off the ground in an enormous hug. Brain’s feet kicked out, but the warmth Pinky emitted had the strangest subduing effect. Brain’s antennae weren’t obstructed either, just swept back. Apparently, Pinky learned from last time.

Brain’s chest was oddly warm. Or maybe it was Pinky’s. It was hard to know for certain.

“Your orbs are so glowy,” Pinky said in awe.

And they weren’t achieving anything from this display of sentimentality! With some difficulty, Brain reclaimed his right arm and bopped Pinky on top of his empty noggin.

Pinky immediately let go, stumbling around dizzily and startling a nearby sparrow with his loud giggles. Brain landed on the base of his tail, a brief painful twinge travelling up his spine. In hindsight, he didn’t plan that well. At least there wasn’t another kink.

“That was jolly fun, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed upon recovery.

If he ever had the spare time, he was definitely researching the differences between actual Terran phrases and Pinky-isms.

“I’m sure,” Brain sighed, though he wasn’t sure and never would be, but Pinky didn’t need to know that.

They walked into a large, multi-level structure that Pinky called a ‘parking garage’, which housed a large amount of dormant vehicles. It was similar to the traffic they’d passed earlier, but the drivers were elsewhere. They were packed close, almost touching, and Brain wondered how anyone could possibly get in or out in these tight quarters.

Another few inches closer and the drivers would be completely trapped. That idea had potential.

Pinky hopped onto each yellow marking on the ground, arms flailing as he tried to avoid the gray areas in between. Brain followed at a more sedate pace. Then Pinky gasped and straightened up just as he landed on the last yellow marking before the mall entrance, Brain nearly bumping into him.

“Look, Brain! Somebody’s dropped their wallet!” Pinky gasped, hurrying over to a black object lying against the curb. He undid the zipper and glanced inside. “Egad, that’s a lot of money!”

Brain peeked inside. A wad of folded green paper was tucked inside one of the pockets. “A currency-based economy? Selene and its colonies utilized barter systems,” he said.

Which could be an issue. Brain had originally planned to trade the Conquistador’s spare parts for useful items.

“Oh no, Brain. Currants would get squished in your pants. Then you’d need a really strong stain remover,” Pinky replied. “Besides, this man’s very lucky he can buy so many hats! That’s what I’d do if I had any money!”

He must’ve misheard that. Surely.

“Pinky, tell me you brought the monetary value required for your hat.”

Pinky dug his hand into a fur pocket, but only came out with a piece of fluff. “Hmmm, well, I have some dryer lint! Only money I have is Nicholas the Nickel, and he’s cleaning the cage with—oh.” His ears and tail fell limp under Brain’s glare.

Brain kicked a loose pebble, and it ricocheted harshly off the base of a metal sign. Of all the native species he could’ve chosen for a guide, it just had to be the one individual whose head was denser than a neutron star.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky murmured. “I’m not very good at this goal-setting thing, am I?”

He said ‘sorry’ a lot for placation’s sake. But no matter the context, he always sounded sincere. Brain pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irate with Pinky anymore.

“You require more practice,” Brain replied. He glanced at the strange, valuable green papers in the wallet. Funny how they came across the commodity needed at this moment. “However, it’s most fortunate that we should stumble on the item required in trade for your hat.”

The money was all in 20s and 50s, and while Brain was unfamiliar with this currency, he figured there would be enough to spare. He took the money out of the pocket and tucked it under his arm. Then he flipped his sunglasses down, but Pinky tugged the money out of his grip before he could walk off.

“No, Brain! That’s stealing!” Pinky protested, slipping the money back into the wallet. “This rightfully belongs to a Mr. Joe Lamont! We have to take this wallet to Lost and Found now!”

Pinky’s stubborn side came out randomly, it seemed.

“The money is here at your convenience, Pinky. You have to use every asset possible to achieve your goal,” Brain said.

“What if Mr. Lamont needs this?” Pinky tapped a card that displayed a human’s photo along with other identifying information. Then he pointed to a small picture of a man and woman. “What if he needs this for anniversary or birthday presents, or else his wife won’t be happy and he’ll be sad cause he left his wallet somewhere and what if someone picks it up and won’t give it back? Cause that’s just mean!”

“Then he should’ve been more careful with such a valuable item,” Brain snapped. Pinky made a noise of disbelief and turned his back to Brain. “So take one or two of the papers for yourself and give the rest back.”

While he’d prefer to keep the entire wallet for future use, it seemed he would just have to compromise with Pinky.

“He won’t notice.”

“NARF!” Pinky retorted.

His assumption was wrong. Pinky wouldn’t accept a compromise either. It was a losing battle, and as much as hated conceding defeat, no other options presented themselves.

“Fine! Do what makes you happy! See if I care!” Brain shouted at Pinky’s back.

He was only presenting the most logical solution. It wasn’t his fault this idiot wasn’t taking the opportunity! And none of this was helping him find Snowball or conquer Terra either!

“Returning the wallet would make me happy, Brain,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Why?” Brain asked. This wasn’t the type of goal-setting he’d pictured at all.

“It feels right.”

Tasks should be performed with efficiency in mind, not for emotion’s sake. But it seemed that keeping Pinky in his normal euphoric state would be in Brain’s best interest for now.

“Alright, let’s return that wallet. Neither you nor I shall use any of the money for personal reasons. We’re heading to the…Lost and Found?” Brain said reluctantly. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep Pinky in a good mood. “You lead the way. I’m not familiar with this locale.”

Pinky faced Brain, and the bright smile was back. Brain looked away. He wasn’t doing this out of altruism, and Pinky needed to learn that.

“Yup, it’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, but for car keys, jackets, and other things too!” Pinky exclaimed, hoisting the wallet above his head. “And now it’s for Mr. Lamont’s wallet!”

The satellite images never pinpointed a geographical location named the Island of Misfit Toys. Probably situated next to a more prominent landmass then.

“Welcome to Macy’s, Brain!” Pinky cheered as they entered a pristine white building. “For all your expensive brand clothing and Thanksgiving Day needs!”

The store was brightly lit, so Brain kept his sunglasses down. Numerous bottles of varying colors were on display. Women shouted from behind their counters, urging passersby to purchase their products. Most people walked by quickly, looking rather uncomfortable and twitchy until they were far from the display area. Only two women seemed interested at all, spraying misty clouds on tiny strips of paper and sniffing them curiously.

“What are they doing?” Brain whispered as he shuffled closer to Pinky for protection’s sake. There was a predatory gleam in those workers’ eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Even Pinky with his near-perpetual cheer seemed uncomfortable, his fingers anxiously drumming against the wallet. “Poit. Selling perfume. All sorts of lovely scents, but this is definitely why online shopping is more popular these days.”

Before Brain could respond, one of the workers suddenly rushed towards them with a manic smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Hi, you wanna buy some perfume buy one and ya get another half price ‘til May!” she shrieked. Without giving them a chance to respond, she sprayed perfume directly in their faces.

Pink mist engulfed them and obstructed their vision. A pungent scent clogged Brain’s nose, trickling its way down his throat, and he let out a hacking cough to expel it. Pinky’s wheeze suddenly turned into a yelp, and by the time the mist cleared, the woman was walking away with the wallet in hand.

Pinky clung to the wallet desperately, his legs kicking out as he was hoisted into the air. “Please, miss! Brain and I—ehem—Brain and I need to give this wallet to Lost and Found so Mr. Lamont can buy his wife nice presents!”

“Oh, it’s a sizeable wallet you’ve got there too!” the woman exclaimed. Brain found her pitch highly grating. “Let’s see, with money like that you can get lilac, honeysuckle, eau de escargot, a perfume that smells like wet goat hair sponsored by Gwenyth Paltrow-“

“I’m sure they smell lovely, but-“

“Very lovely indeed!” the woman spoke over Pinky, who could only dangle helplessly.

Brain gritted his teeth and hurried after them, shaking off his earlier disorientation. When she stopped to jabber about perfume again, he slammed his tail onto her bare ankle and administered a quick shock. Startled, she dropped Pinky the wallet. Brain darted between her sandals just in time to catch Pinky, who clutched the wallet to his chest, slightly dizzy from his sudden fall.

The perfume bottle was aimed in their direction again.

Brain took off with Pinky in his arms, running as fast as he could when those dreaded sandals got too close for comfort. He allowed Pinky to safekeep the wallet, since he was already so protective of it.

“Relentless scrik!” Brain panted as the woman hurled various sales pitches behind them. Pinky wasn’t heavy, but the wallet was a different story. And Pinky made it look so simple!

Well, Pinky was simple in general. Perhaps it was a distributive effect.

“Brain, go into the carpeted area!” Pinky shouted. “She can’t follow us out of her department!”

Deciding to trust Pinky’s word, Brain ran straight onto the carpet, barely dodging someone’s shoe in time, and his foot caught on the raised border between the carpet and tile. He fell onto his face, one of the sunglasses’ handles digging into his fur on impact. Pinky and the wallet tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop a short distance away.

As Pinky predicted, the woman stopped chasing them.

“Annnnd there goes my bonus,” she muttered dejectedly. She slammed the perfume bottle onto a nearby counter, startling a sleepy coworker who toppled off her chair in surprise and plastered on a fake smile for a passing customer. He glanced at her briefly and walked away with a grimace.

“Sooo…welcome to Macy’s?” Pinky laughed nervously. “On the bright side, we smell like radish roses now!”

Brain threw a button at him.

o-o-o-o-o

They kept to the corners after that fiasco, hoping to avoid drawing attention to a moving wallet. Pinky marveled at the various styles advertised by a human-like object he called a ‘Manny Kin’. He prattled on about the models and clothing, and Brain tuned him out to better observe the humans.

The younger ones appeared restless and bored out of their minds. The adults often stopped to admire an article of clothing, checked the price, and shook their heads before moving onto the next item. Everyone was dressed in a far more casual style than the clothing on sale.

“Oh, here’s the mall center! It’s where all the real fun happens, Brain!” Pinky said, his tail wagging in excitement. “Plus, the Lost and Found is just beyond this store. We’ll make Mr. Lamont happy in no time!”

Instead of a back wall, there was a large, doorless opening that led out of the store. Pinky danced his way across the boundary with a cheerful goodbye to the Macy’s sign. As Brain stepped into the wide open space, he was astounded by the sheer scale of the mall center.

He’d expected a plain corridor that connected different sections, not a massive space with a roof that appeared to touch the sky. The population density was much higher than in Macy’s, humans loudly chatting among themselves, shouting at consumers to purchase wares, and swinging large bags from their arms.

There were two floors above their heads, connected to the ground by staircases and escalators. The escalators seemed by far the popular choice for people moving between floors. Brain felt dizzy just looking at that open space above them, and he decided to focus only straight ahead for now.

Dozens of smaller stores lined the walls. Most of them sold clothes like Macy’s, and Brain couldn’t fathom why humans needed so many stores just to sell clothes. A fresh, rich scent wafted through the air, and though it was much more pleasant than the perfume, it made him somewhat famished as well.

“Look, Brain! The cookie shop! Don’t they smell divine?” Pinky asked with a dreamy sigh. “They taste delicious too!”

“Another one of your foods?” Brain asked, though it fell on deaf ears. Pinky had gone over to the display case, practically drooling on it as he admired the cookies inside, the wallet leaning against his side.

Brain stood on the other side of the wallet, just in case anyone had any ideas about stealing it.

At first, Brain thought the cookies were classified by ingredient, but one of the groups was labelled ‘snickerdoodle’ and Brain was of the opinion that no sane planet in the universe would ever call anything by that strange moniker.

“Let’s be on our way, Pinky,” Brain said, because there wasn’t anything productive he could do while his Terran guide was staring longingly at cookies. “That wallet won’t return itself.”

“Okay, Brain…” Pinky said forlornly. His hands squeaked sadly against the glass, but before he could pick up the wallet, a woman came out from behind the counter, her dark hair tied back in a bun. She approached them with a napkin in one hand.

Brain grabbed Pinky’s hand and the wallet, tensing up in case he had to yank them away at a moment’s notice.

But the woman made no move to snatch the wallet. She only squatted next to them and held out the napkin, revealing two small pieces of cookies. “Free sample?” she asked. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

“Thanks so much...Laura!” Pinky read the name tag pinned to her shirt, then snatched up one of the pieces and shoved it into his mouth. Crumbs stained his muzzle. “Narrrrf! That was dee-lish!”

Cautiously, Brain took the second piece and bit into it. Sweetness flooded his taste buds, and he quickly finished his portion, the cookie melting in his mouth. If anything, Pinky had understated how delicious it tasted.

“It’s exquisite,” he said to Laura, who beamed right back.

“Glad you enjoyed it!” Laura said. She provided them with wet napkins so they could rid themselves of the remaining crumbs, and they left the cookie shop behind.

“She was so nice, Brain!” Pinky said, safeguarding the wallet once again. “Sugar cookies are my favorites! Well, after chocolate chip and macadamia and snickerdoodle-“

Brain nodded. “She didn’t steal anything while our guard was down. Count that in your definition of ‘nice’.”

Thankfully, they didn’t have to walk far to get to the Lost and Found. Brain hoped to put this wallet nonsense behind them in the next half hour. They had objectives to fulfill.

The Lost and Found was in a hallway that led to an exit from the mall, and Brain made a mental note of its location. He refused to set foot in that Macy’s ever again.

A podium was situated in front of the doors, and the worker behind it nervously held out a box to an irate man in a formal suit similar to the merchandise at Macy’s. He snatched the box and threw several articles of clothing and various lost items to the ground.

Pinky lifted the wallet above his head, his feet tapping in excitement. “That’s the man! He looks exactly like his pictures!”

Mr. Lamont was practically tearing the box apart without any regard for the other lost belongings, and the worker’s eyes were wide with fear. That didn’t bode well. Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, but it slipped out of his grasp. The idiot had no sense of impending danger and walked right up to the belligerent man.

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” Mr. Lamont snarled, slamming his hand against the podium. The worker cowered behind his chair. “Hand over my wallet this instant, or you’ll be out of a job.”

The worker paled.

Brain rushed over to try and pull Pinky back. Mr. Lamont hadn’t noticed them yet. There was still a chance they could slip the wallet among the other items and leave without detection.

“Hi, Mr. Lamont! You dropped your wallet in the parking garage!” Pinky greeted. “Me and my friend here were just taking it to Lost and Found, and what a coinkydink we’d find you here too! Isn’t that great?”

Pinky held the wallet up expectantly, that silly smile never leaving his face.

Mr. Lamont snatched the wallet out of Pinky’s hands, wrinkling his nose haughtily.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky chirped, then happily turned to Brain. “We did it!”

Pinky had done most of the work, but if he wanted to share credit, Brain chose not to correct him. “Yes. Now we may return to what we originally-“

Mr. Lamont’s foot slammed into Pinky’s side, too fast for Brain to shout a warning. Pinky yelped as he was thrown into a wall. There he laid in a crumpled heap, hands wrapped around his abdomen for protection.

“How much did you take, thief?” Mr. Lamont spat. He cast a looming shadow over Pinky, who whimpered in pain, tears forming in pitiful blue eyes.

It was such a foreign appearance for the idiotic but kindhearted mouse.

A strange fury overtook Brain, one that was much different from dealing with troublesome ships, arguing with Snowball, or frustration with his current predicament. It brewed in the depth of his stomach and spread through the rest of his body.

Brain whipped off his sunglasses, placing himself firmly between Pinky and the ungrateful reprobate.

“He stole nothing from you,” Brain growled. “Count the money yourself, you repugnant excuse of an organism, unless your mind has degraded far beyond the ability to perform simple arithmetic.”

“And just who do you think you are?” Mr. Lamont sneered.

Brain crossed his arms proudly. He refused to cower before the Terran. “A genetically enhanced Selenian mos seeking dominion over your world.”

And when all was said and done, Mr. Lamont would be bowing down to him.

But that glorious fantasy was cut short. Brain saw the black sole of a shoe, there was a forceful pressure against his body. His limbs refused to cooperate. He couldn’t reach his tail for self-defense, his heart pumping faster and faster until it couldn’t compensate for the lack of electrons anymore-

The crushing pressure vanished.

Faraway voices blended together, one angry, one meek, and one familiar.

Someone lifted his head, a gentle hand moving his antennae aside, then slowly pushed his head down until he rested against soft fabric. Brain’s fingers twitched. His full mobility would take several minutes to return, but this wasn’t a terrible position to wait it out.

A drop of moisture fell on his face, followed by several more.

Rain?

He’d heard of that particular climate pattern, but had never seen it in action before.

Brain opened his eyes, craning his neck to see this curious phenomenon. But he was met with Pinky’s tearful gaze instead.

He’d learned much of Terran culture during this expedition, but was it really worth all these ridiculous emotions?

“Stop dampening my fur with your lacrimal ducts, Pinky,” Brain said, his voice hoarse.

Pinky managed a giggle, inanity that was far more preferable to all this crying. “Sorry, Brain. I don’t have any milk. But are you okay? P-p-poit.”

“I’ll need several minutes to recuperate. Then I’ll be ready.” Brain felt his cheeks heat up from the proximity. Mobility returned to his right leg, and he couldn’t wait for this mortifying close contact to be over. “Where’s Mr. Lamont?”

Pinky scowled at the name, an expression that looked odd on him, but not wholly unwelcome. “Mr. Lameany called you vermin and left with his wallet. But you’re not vermin, Brain! You’re my best friend!”

A childish insult. He’d have to teach Pinky about using more sophisticated language.

“And you…are Pinky,” he sighed, patting Pinky’s arm.

Pinky smiled brightly. At least Brain could strive towards one of his objectives. They weren’t quite through with business at the mall though. He’d have to tough it out.

But for now, he settled back against Pinky, who happily taught him the age-old Terran method of settling arguments known as rock-paper-scissors.

AN: FINISHED AT LAST.

I am not making stuff up as I write I totally had a plan for this fic y’all can’t prove nothing.

Brain gets to learn good and bad stuff about Terra, poor Pinky gets hurt. These mice can’t even go the mall without something happening, can they?

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb nova

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years ago

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Just Like The Sea

Ok so I wasn’t expecting to write this but here you go, a Jotaro scenario. This is also a test to see how writing for him feels like so he might not be fully in character, I tried my best though so please enjoy.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Jotaro Kujo x Reader

Summary: Jotaro was a difficult man to describe let alone talk to, but you were confident that a certain set of words could help you understand him better.

Notes: First time writing for Jotaro sooo... Please go easy on me.

The night had long fallen over the vast desert, replacing its usual high temperature with a low one that was surprisingly bearable considering all the things you had been expecting from the climate. It was still cold, of course, but in a strangely pleasant way and you didn’t find it as bothersome as some of the others did.

And judging by the fact that he was wide awake, sitting on his sleeping bag that was situated a bit farther away from the camp than it usually was, it didn’t bother Jotaro either.

You often noticed him sitting by himself at nights, silently buried in his thoughts that you didn’t understand or know as he didn’t mention them out loud. Considering all the events that had occurred and the sole reason for this faithful journey, it wasn’t too strange to think that he was stressed from the weight he was carrying on those broad shoulders. But him being the reserved teen he was, he didn’t allow these emotions to show in his actions or words, instead, he seemingly preferred to deal with them on his own by silently going through his thoughts once the night surrounded him.

It took you a few minutes to muster up enough courage to get up from the comfort of your sleeping bag and slowly make your way towards him. The courage wasn’t necessary because you were afraid of him, but he must have wanted to be left alone and the last thing you wanted was to annoy or bother him. However, at the same time, you couldn’t help but to think that he might need some company during these lonely nights.

“Can I join you?”

Upon hearing your quiet voice, the dark-haired teen briefly glances at you, his turquoise eyes immediately catching that small smile on your features. With a small sigh, he moves a bit in order to make room for you next to him, as he figures you’d rather not sit on the cold sand. “Sure, whatever.”

His response does not surprise you in the slightest as you’re more than used to the small amount of words he tends to let out. As you sit next to him, a small amount of relief latches itself onto you and your smile widens ever so slightly. He doesn’t say anything else, which once again isn’t anything new, and it also causes a thought you had wondered throughout this journey to appear within your mind.

“You know, I used to wonder what made you behave like that,” You say rather out of the blue, which causes him to look at you once again, visible confusion slightly twisting his features. “Like what?” The tone of his voice is neutral like always, but holds a certain spark of curiosity in it that makes you chuckle a bit.

“Well, you’re always so... Distant. You keep to yourself and you don’t really open up often.” Your eyes glance at the ground for a brief moment while Jotaro keeps his own on you, his brow slightly raised as he is rather curious about your words. “I used to think it was weird, but I think I’ve figured you out.” Once you return your gaze to him, you’re met with that same confused expression that you find quite hard to read. His brows are lightly frowned and though his tough exterior prevents him from saying it, he wants to know more.

“What do you mean?” You smile at his desire to hear your thoughts and some part of you is eager to explain your findings about the dark-haired teen. They were definitely difficult to put into words in the beginning as he was a complicated person to begin with, but after spending a good while thinking about it, you eventually found the perfect words to describe Jotaro Kujo:

“You’re like a big, deep sea.”

When your words receive no response from the teen beside you, you take it as a sign to elaborate further. Not that you minded, in fact, you were more than happy to take his mind off the possibly overwhelming things he was going through. And once your voice comes forth again, Jotaro can’t help but to feel something inside him twist with warmth.

“You’re calm and you’re able to keep your cool even when things get bad. But there’s just something about you that seems to draw some people in, and at the same time, others seem to be afraid of you.” Despite his age, Jotaro looked extremely intimidating with his muscular physique and impressive height, however, there had been multiple occasions where women had been head over heels for him, much like some people loved the sea, while others were terrified of it.

“You are also unpredictable. Half the time I have no idea what you’re thinking or what you’re about to do.” Jotaro listens to you silently, every one of the words that you let you sticking to him and a pleasant sensation embracing him in a way that makes the cold air practically nonexistent to him. “And just like a sea, that calmness of yours can suddenly explode into a raging storm that destroys everything.” Jotaro’s temper wasn’t exceptionally short, but when he sometimes lost his cool and summoned Star Platinum, that calm and collected nature seemed to be thrown out the window and would only return after a satisfying number of punches had been delivered. Just like a storm breaking out at a sea.

Your words come to a momentary halt as the last bit of your speech gets stuck in your throat, your eyes landing on the ground as you try to brush off the uncomfortable sensation and spit out the words you were desiring to say, without offending or annoying him. A deep sea always had its secrets. “But... I think under those waves lies a treasure that no one just hasn’t caught yet...” Jotaro had a rough exterior that you were sure no one could crack, but you were more than certain that deep down there was something more to him. Something precious.

A grueling silence falls on both of you, your words lingering in the air like the icy temperature. Jotaro’s own silence makes you wonder if your words had a negative effect on him and due to that simple thought, you don’t dare to look up at him. However, what you don’t know is the sheer amount of emotions violently spinning within him. He doesn’t quite understand why, but your words affect him in a way that’s somewhat unknown to him. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner. No one had ever spoken to him so... Gently. So kindly. So honestly. He rarely cared about what others may have thought of him, but for some odd reason, he feels a strange sensation of relief at your thoughts you had voiced out loud. The uncertainty of how to respond to these tender phrases prevents him from letting out any proper words, though.

“Good grief. I didn’t expect you to be so corny. How the hell did you even come up with all that sappy shit?” You’re about to frown your brows in disappointment at his words but your expression changes when you notice Jotaro averting his eyes and steadily holding his hat in front of his features in an attempt to hide his face that was... Blushing? With a smile, you slowly lean against him, which he thankfully doesn’t seem to mind.

“They’re just my thoughts, Jotaro. They came from here.” You slowly place one of your hands on your heart and look up at him, your (E/C) eyes shining with so much light, it put the stars above to shame. Jotaro doesn’t say anything but instead, carefully puts his arm around you, and for a moment you swear you could see the tiniest smile lifting the corners of his lips.

If his body was the vast and unpredictable ocean, then his heart was the precious treasure hidden within it.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Stardust Crusaders #jotaro #jotaro kujo #jojo part 3 #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jjba jotaro #reader insert

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hija-del-trueno · 5 years ago

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Of Myths and Legends

OF MYTHS AND LEGENDS

Anidala Week 2020 - Day 3:Mythology

Author’s Note: LOL get ready to cry ya’ll because 2020 was meant for angst. Might make this into a series later on. These are a lot of tragic mythology that works perfectly with Anidala.

I. ICARUS

“I will get us out of here….I promise.”

He whispered that to her every night.

For some the ability to lose track of time was simple but for Padme time was a necessary construct. Her children, wherever they were, needed their mother…and their father too.

Two years had passed since that faithful day. When all Sith’s hell broke loose. Anakin almost lost himself. She had almost lost him and her children had almost lost their father. They would have lost him to fear and quite frankly, to power and envy as well.

But then Ahsoka came with Maul to stop Anakin from committing his biggest crime. As one singular action becomes a breakpoint for a set of other actions, it seemed Sidious was one step ahead.

When Anakin realized the ploy was to turn him, Sidious turned to Maul and lured him. Maul wanting his rightful place amongst the Sith order, pledged his allegiance to whom had previously betrayed him.

They lost Ahsoka that day. She gave them means to escape.

Soon her and Anakin met with Obi-Wan in Tatooine, and then came the twins. The galaxy’s beacon of hope. But just as she saw them, they were whisked away.

Obi-Wan pleaded to take them far away to protect them. It had been two years since they had last heard of him

The Empire loomed above them, everywhere. Anakin had disconnected himself from the Force, in fear of being found. Similarly, she couldn’t access her credits without being detected. Instead they’d become moisture farmers, living day by day. Working through the sun and making meager ends for some sustenance. Not that it mattered, they’d both lost their appetite long before.

Padme tried not to cry in front of him. But sometimes she could not help herself. Despite having Anakin all to herself without the Jedi Code and societal norms to trump them, this was not what she imagined. They were incomplete and not free.

Being out in the desert became their proverbial prison. Now she understood why Anakin hated this place. Yet, occasionally she’d lie in the desert sand at night and look at the sky wondering what little Luke and Leia were doing.

Anakin was restless.

He would not be at peace until his family was together again. This was his fault. He had not regretted the choice he made in Palpatine’s office after Ahsoka showed up but he wasn’t strong enough to stop the Sith. He was too distraught. Too weak.

They had no credits. No life but the desert. While he hated the sand, he knew how to live in it, but not his angel. She was never meant to be here.

She was broken-hearted and so was he for her, for them. Their love for one another was their own anchor, their only light in the darkness. While they professed their love to one another constantly, he knew it would not be enough to fulfill this new gap that existed.

Obi-Wan had promised to come back with a ship for them, but two years had passed and he was desperate to know if his children were safe.

Soon enough he planned to buy a ship but everytime he scrambled for some credits, some unfortunate situation would happen. They’d need it for food, tusken raiders came up on their homestead, the moisture collectors broke down, and there never seemed to be an affordable ship.

And he did not want to open himself to the Force. He knew the minute he did, Maul and Sidious would jump like Lothal cats on their location.

That’s why when a ship crashed near their home Anakin and Padme looked at each other with hope in their eyes. The pilot had died at impact but the ship was salvageable.

“We’ll find Obi-Wan first and find Luke and Leia, and go far away from here.” She said in her elation. Padme smiled more often now.

Anakin worked like he’d never done before. The hardest part was moving around from the homestead to where the ship had crashed, but he spent day and night fixing that she. His hair had grown and a fierce determination shown on his face almost like a crazed man.

One night as they held each other in hope and desperation, he’d hummed an old desert tune. “You love me better than anyone…you love me better than I’ve known…better than I’ve known before” Padme held him tighter that night.

“So the ship only has capability for two hyperspace jumps?”

“Around that, yes,” he said hesitantly. He’d look in every junk shop for the part he needed on the hyperdrive but to no avail.

“We can probably jump to Naboo. I’ll seek my family quietly and find a way to contact Obi-Wan,” she said.

Anakin shook his head. “We can’t go to Naboo. It’ll be crawling with Imps.”

Padme thought for a second longer until it dawned on her. “Alderaan.”

“Alderaan?”

“Yes, Bail had to have survived. We had gone over every contingency plan with the committee, in case something like this happened.” When something like this were to happen. Padme had kept politics away from him but now more then ever he understood her lack of loyalty.

It was all coming together. Until it wasn’t.

This is a tragedy. There is no happy ending.

As they approached Alderaan, he hesitated. What if they came here for naught? What if Bail Organa had been killed and as soon as they landed they would have been caught by the Empire?

No. He couldn’t allow that to happen. His family was his responsibility now and he would be damned if he did not do anything about it. He would do what he had been holding on to do before. Use the Force. It would guide him to Obi-Wan. If Maul and Sidious dared he would have already landed and escaped. Anakin had been the best pilot in the war, surely he could evade him.

As he sat in the cockpit looking at the vastness of space. Anakin opened himself up to the Force and searched for his old master. He smiled, he was close.

Suddenly an alarm startled him awake. As he opened his eyes he saw ahead of him a large Star Destroyer. Alderaan laid below them. Behind him, Padme entered the cockpit and gasped.

“Anakin!” He only stared ahead. Maul and Sidious were aboard that ship. Laughing at him furiously but then Anakin knew what he had to do.

“What are we going to do?” Padme broke him from his reverie.

He stood up suddenly and was in front of her. Anakin grabbed her face and kissed her. She broke away and stared at him confusedly. I’m sorry.

Trembling he lifted his hand, “You will go into the escape pod.” She simply stared.

He did it again, “You…will…go…into…the…escape…pod.”

Padme stayed silently hypnotized. Slowly her feet moved back, all the while staring at Anakin. Her eye twitched but tears started forming. Her mouth stayed silently shut.

“You will go into the escape pod,” he croaked. Tears forming in his. He saw a small shake of her head, all the while they walked slowly to the back of the ship where the escape pod was.

Soon enough she had crossed the threshold that separated the pod and the ship. Padme’s chest heaved, wanting desperately to scream out. Tears flowed across her cheeks. She trembled violently. But Anakin hit and held the space lock that closed the door immediately.

On the other side Padme yelled, “ANAKINNNNNNN. NO!”

“I’m sorry, my love.”

Her fists hit the escape pod violently. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET ME OUT! ANAKIN!”

“OBI-WAN IS IN ALDERAAN! YOU WILL GO TO HIM AND YOU WILL FIND OUR CHILDREN!”

“No. No Anakin, please. Don’t do this.” But it was too late because he hit the release.

They both wept as they drifted farther apart. I’m sorry, my angel.

But then Anakin needed to move. He sat back in the cockpit and stared straight ahead. They were on the bridge. He knew what he had to do. There was only one maneuver.

And so the tale tells. Anakin Skywalker, maddened by determination to end what he thought was his responsibility, hit one last hyperspace jump directly through the bridge. He destroyed the bridge, Maul, Sidious, and himself. His wife seeing the maneuver in front of her eyes, rarely spoke again.

The galaxy will forever hear the tragedy of the man who walked the skies until one day he simply got too close to the sun.

#anidalaweek2020 #anidala #anakin skywalker #padme skywalker #icarus falls

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faelune-home · 4 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2020 #10: Avail

(A/N: Based on the interpretation of the word “to be of use or value”, I took this opportunity to look at my miqo WoL’s willingness to help others and her own thoughts on being the soldier on command. Contrary to everyone saying she’s being used or treated as expendable - Fray included, since she’s dabbled in the darkness lol - she’s actually more than happy to help if she think she’s making someone happier or their time easier.

It’s something a lot of players tend to pick at and complain about, whenever the story makes us do small chores cos “we’re the warrior of light but the story just nudge nudges and jokes that we’re pushovers”, and it comes up in the DRK storyline as well. This isn’t a critique of the DRK line tho, I still really enjoyed the writing there. But I will say for miqo!Fufu, while maybe there’s some frustration or minor resentment, its waaay deep down, and she’s otherwise genuinely just happy to help.

Doesn’t stop the ever helpful Fray from bringing out an uncharacteristic anger in her anyway.

Set during early Heavensward after the Halatali rescue, no direct spoilers alluded to. I allude to two other fanfics I’ve done tho - only briefly, not necessary to read - the previous “Muster” prompt fic and a fic from June pre-ffxivwrite.

Word count: 1351

@ffxiv-writers)

To be free of Halatali’s claustrophobic halls, especially after the poisoned mists that had assailed them, felt like true relief. Even Raubahn, hobbling as he was and half leaning between Yugiri and Fufu for support, had an air of ease about him. Alphinaud prepped his grimoire all the same, ready to provide aid to the man. For the moment at least, before considering any further moves, they could be at peace.

They waited some time, with Yugiri dictating orders to her shinobi in pursuit of the Braves, until at last she returned to them, frustration plain on her face. “My apologies, Master Alphinaud. My shinobi can no longer find any trace of them.”

The elezen grit his teeth, biting back a curse. How he wished Ilberd could finally be caught and made to answer for his crimes. Instead, he let out a huff, saying, “As regrettable as that is to hear, I thank you and your men for their work. We owe you a debt for all you have done.”

Yugiri shook her head. “You owe us nothing. It is we that still owe you and your companions so much for granting us shelter and work. This is us continuing to repay you for your kindness.” She bowed, then with a glance at the haggard hyur seated on the old coliseum steps, she added, “I shall take over the general’s care until we make to leave. You can rest.”

With the general being tended to, Alphinaud sought instead to join the Warrior of Light, who stood at the other entrance to the plaza, her hands unusually stiff on her hips and her tail swishing back and forth roughly.

“Might I lend an ear for whatever troubles you?” he asked. Her ear flicked before she turned to face him, her mouth set in a firm line.

“I take it there’s no sign of him?” she asked back, glancing behind him. Her shoulders drooped when he frowned and shook his head.

“Unfortunately not.”

Her tail lashed again. “Dammit. I wish he’d just get caught and stay caught. We had him cornered and then he slipped out.”

“I share the sentiment, my friend, I truly do. Ilberd has been quite the thorn so far for both of us,” the younger boy said.

“I didn’t like what he said in there,” she stated, catching Alphinaud off guard for a spell.

“All that talk about me being used, like he knows a damn thing about me,” she scowled. The boy frowned, trying to ignore the guilty feeling gnawing at his gut. He wouldn’t speak over her now, even if he felt some truth to his former charge’s words. If only because he’d promised his friend that he wouldn’t continue to blame himself for the events of that night or his former actions.

Unaware of her company’s silence, Fufu continued, “I don’t like how he talks like we’re some kindred spirits, like I’m somehow shackled by my responsibilities and can’t go off doing anything else. I choose to follow orders ‘cos I know I’m helping people. Every little thing, every tedious act. Just ‘cos I’m the Warrior of Light doesn’t mean I’m suddenly above some menial work!” A growl had seeped into her words as she ranted, and what almost looked like a flash of red in her eye, startling Alphinaud such that he unwillingly stepped back from the woman. He didn’t know she was capable of such...fire.

As though suddenly conscious of her tone, Fufu winced, her ears flattening against her head as she said, “I mean, I said it to you, didn’t I? It’s not about being used, it's just ‘cos everyone else has better plans than me. It's better to follow them. I don’t mind.” She trailed off, brows knit together with worry.

He simply nodded, in response to her first question directed at him. A pregnant pause grew between them, neither ready to burst the bubble. A caw sounded in the distance, and closer was Raubahn’s hacking coughs.

She finally spoke again, still worried looking, but a lot calmer too; her tail no longer lashed violently and her shoulders were less tense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get that worked up. I just...I don’t like when everyone else talks like I have no say in this. Like I’m being jerked around and toyed with. I know you tend to guilt trip a lot lately about how you treated me like a soldier always on call--”

Alphinaud winced, yet before he could say anything or do anything, she instantly flicked his forehead, prompting a hissed, “Ow!” from him before she leaned in, smirking in her usual playful manner, “And that’s not your cue to start again now.” Despite his irritation at the unprompted attack, he couldn’t help but give a small smile back.

“--Anyway, where was I? Just ‘cos I was at your beck and call or whatever doesn’t matter. I was happy to do it ‘cos I thought I was helping and making a difference, and if I really didn’t like what was happening or didn’t want to do something, I could’ve said so.” With a final huff and a firm nod, she finished, arms folded against her chest.

“I’ll ignore the unnecessary assault and simply say this; your candor is refreshing my friend. And although you didn’t wish me to mention it, I do have to say that your own willingness to follow orders doesn’t then forgive my attitude about it. I’m not saying this to have another ‘guilt trip’, as you would put it. Rather I would follow your example and simply acknowledge the facts.”

Fufu pouted, a flash of frustration in her wide purple eyes. “Fine, you can have that. But then also acknowledge that you know better now and are growing from it. Right now.”

Amused at her insistence, he nodded. “Very well. For all my esteemed education, there is still much and more for me to learn, and I can still improve.”

Her ear flicked, and her eyebrow raised, but rather than question his phrasing, she smiled and said, “That’s good. No amount of fancy learning means you know everything in the world. Even if you knew more than me.”

She laughed, “The closest thing to any scholarly learning I’ve had is asking the other Scions to teach me fancy words I didn’t know. I almost panicked thinking I’d be letting people down if I didn’t know any big long words in mission briefings.”

Despite her levity, mention of their missing comrades brought a heavy air over the boy, smile falling and his gaze turning to the ground. Noticing his shift in mood, Fufu placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and murmured, “We’ll find them. We have so many people looking for them now, the Flames and Yugiri’s shinobi. We’ll look under every rock if we have to, literally.”

“I know you’re right,” he sighed, “There can only be so many places to look.” He stood straighter, trying to look more assured. Turning to see the Auri woman helping Raubahn to his feet, he said, “The general appears ready to move on. I would like to give him another look over myself before we make for Camp Drybone to procure transport to Vesper Bay.”

Fufu nodded. “Alrighty. I need a moment, but I’ll keep an eye out here until we head off.” Alphinaud tipped his head to the side, curious, however he didn’t pry. He made his way back to their companions, now joined by the shinobi scouts, yet couldn’t help but peek back over his shoulder.

The miqo’te stood, frowning deeply at her hand, gripped tightly around something he couldn’t see clearly. The late Thanalan sun, dipping lower in the sky, caught the item, a harsh orange glint shining back at him.

Curiosity truly piqued now, he almost considered returning to her side. But he shook his head and stayed firm, continuing as he was. As her friend, he should allow her her privacy. After all, with all the work to be done in Ul’dah, when will they have another moment of peace?

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #yugiri mistwalker #raubahn aldynn #keeper of the moon miqo'te #my wol #fufu faelune #my writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #heavensward

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mementofloreo-archived · 4 years ago

Note

Kiss 44, for Ewan and Ophilia : )

@tomestobetold || 50 ways to kiss someone || 44- out of lust 👀

(under a cut because I ended up writing the entire lotr series as a reply, apparently, /j)

It really is a momentary lapse of restraint that compels him.

Ewan usually has rather impeccable self control. Twelve years of the education and etiquette provided only to royalty and eight of extensive traveling, physical training, self learning and practical experience with both business and battle all come together to allow him a tight hold over his actions.

Even so, everybody cracks sometimes. Slips for a second. And that can end in a collapse of a carefully curated mask, with varying results.

Ophilia Clement is breathtaking to him even on a bad day. He could write volumes of poetry about her, he thinks. In fact he would, if she were to ask it of him.

Their comradeship started initially as cordial business. The day she set out on the Kindling the weather was bad. As he was finishing up some work and planning to depart Flamesgrace himself anyway, he offered to accompany her at least until whatever point their paths naturally diverged or the traveling conditions became less adverse. He was for all intents and purposes a volunteer bodyguard, offering his sword arm out of mere compassion and care for another’s safety.

...They are well beyond that now.

They are often surrounded by other traveling companions now, though often their paths will diverge from them for short periods if some of them have errands or business in another direction. They always rendezvous with each other again before too long, but...

Alone together or not, the extensive time Ewan and Ophilia have spent in each other’s company has led to a steadfast and close friendship that he genuinely hopes will be lifelong.

...Of course, the tension is something else entirely. Ewan is self aware enough to know when he is attracted to someone, and has given enough thought and attention to himself to realize that for better or worse, he is in love for the first time. And the emotions Ophilia evoke in him sometimes leave him feeling as if he’s been punched in the gut. Breathless, overwhelmed, floundering.

He still insists to himself that there is no chance Ophilia’s feelings toward him are anywhere near matching his own for her. But he is not so blinded by his lack of confidence that he still denies there is, at least, a spark. Something there, in her eyes, lingering on him when he shaves at the campfire every morning. Burning holes between his shoulderblades when he strips himself of his shirt while sparring with sir Olberic on a hot day. Fingers tracing his skin just a little longer than necessary when she runs a healing spell over a wound.

Ewan may not think highly of his own desirability- but he’s far from completely stupid. Ophilia is attracted to him as well- at least on a physical level. Even without the hints offered by her own behavior, the jokes and teasing from their companions grow less subtle by the day.

But right now, it’s only the two of them. A shallow cave- really more just a divot in a cliff face- is their resting place for the night. Wind howls, rain comes down in sheets outside. Ewan has used the materials that usually build their tents to place a covering over the opening of their little hole, keeping out any chill and preventing the water from soaking them or putting out their modest fire.

They’ve already been caught by the storm, of course. They spent several minutes trekking uphill on a muddy path with Ewan bracing himself behind Ophilia as a support against the headwind and slippery ground. Needless to say they were both soaked to the bone by the time they found a safe place to get out of the weather.

Though not lacking some self consciousness about it, Ewan stripped down to his trousers as soon as the fire was going, laying the rest of his drenched clothing out flat nearby to dry.

Ophilia’s outermost layers are mostly white, but she is accustomed enough to the unpredictable weather of the road by now that she has invested in a dark undershirt and leggings for cases such as this.

...Even so, this is probably the least vested they have seen each other. And what the cleric is still wearing is considerably more form fitting than her robes. From the moment they sit down in the somewhat cramped space, just a few inches between them as they pull towels from their bags and silently warm themselves by the fire, a thick, tense air has been building.

For Ewan, it’s mostly anxiety. At least initially. He knows he is not unpleasant to look at, and his strong frame is something that many people find easy on the eyes. But he has some very significant scars along his chest, abdomen, even his back. He also has fairly thick body hair, and he has always been a little self conscious about that. He was already shaving and growing chest hair by age fifteen- though not nearly as often then as he finds himself needing to now.

He glances her direction every so often. Briefly, shyly, dutifully avoiding staring or ogling. He busies himself drying his hair, closes his eyes tightly, focuses intensely on the sensation of scrubbing the towel against his head. Then he dries his face, his throat-

That’s when he feels her eyes on him.

He looks over nervously, quietly. Ophilia’s face is mostly covered by her own towel, hands clutching the fabric in place, but her eyes gaze through strands of still damp hair, right at Ewan. He feels his heart stutter violently when he catches them moving up and down, blatantly drinking in the details of his body.

He swallows, mouth going dry, as the air goes from simply tense to heated and charged in only seconds. And of course he finds himself staring too, because now he’s been knocked off balance.

His eyes follow as Ophilia lowers the towel, focusing on her hands. Small and soft and warm- he knows because he’s taken them, many a time, to keep her from falling, pull her away from danger, help her up a steep incline. Compared to his- big and callused and strong and scarred- they seem almost too dainty. Like those of a doll, or like something made of lace.

All her features have a delicate air about them, he muses, slightly dazed and not even noticing her quiet, flustered apology for staring.

Her undershirt is sleeveless. High collared, but it hugs the line of her neck snugly even as it bares her small, pale shoulders.

He clears his throat, fidgets, and tries to look away. He feels the deep flush that has crept onto his face and it’s difficult to ignore the slowly bubbling heat in the pit of his stomach, or the skirting thoughts about how soft the rest of her skin must be, considering her hands, is she that pale all over, is she-

He takes in a sharp, deep breath, and digs his nails into the palms of his hands as he glues his gaze to the fire.

And for a little while the air eases a bit, Ewan focusing so intently on paying attention to anything other than Ophilia and her own flushed face or the curve of her hips or-

Suddenly, she is sitting right next to him. Almost flush against his side.

He’s sure his heart has stopped. At first he merely moves his eyes toward her, gritting his teeth as he waits for her to speak.

She fiddles shyly with her hair, bashfully avoiding eye contact and murmuring about feeling a little cold. And, slowly, she rests her cheek against his shoulder.

And when her hand moves to his arm, her fingers tracing a vein on his bicep, that’s when it snaps.

His movements are not quick or forceful, despite the intensity of the impulse and the desire driving it. He breathes in deeply, swears under his breath, and then he turns down toward her.

When she raises her head to look at him, he takes her jaw in one hand, gently, and tilts her face up, dips his own down to press a deep, longing, far from chaste kiss upon her mouth.

Her lips are soft, and she smells a little sweet, and his head is buzzing with a force that no quantity of alcohol has ever been able to impart. He’s bedded people before, kissed them, run his hands over another’s body. Even so, the way Ophilia’s breath catches, the way her body tenses for a moment before she relaxes and practically melts against him, hands pressed against his chest- everything about her, and this single lingering kiss, is more arousing than anything else he has experienced. By the time he pulls away from her his vision is blurry, and he can hardly think, much less regain control of himself.

“...I should have asked permission before doing that,” he whispers, breathless, still just hairs away from her face.

They both struggle to even their breathing as the rain continues to pour outside, but Ewan knows already that the floodgates can’t be closed now.

#tomestobetold(ophilia)#ewan tag #SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING :)#Maggie I am so sorry but also: please enjoy your ten course meal #tomestobetold

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rohad93 · 5 years ago

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A knight Affair: chapter 7 - Bandages and Roses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064748/chapters/50501213

It was another beautiful day in the Drysor empire.

Anywhere in the empire except in the palace.

It had been four days since the knight captain’s public lashing, which many of the palace staff had bore witness too, including the captain’s own men.

Morale had been low and the air around the palace thick and gloomy ever since, not just because of the knight captain but because the ever cheerful princess Rosaline and compassionate Azurine had also been dour ever since.

It was only the day after that an entire platoon of men were conscripted from the town and sent to the front to great public outcry.

The front had shifted again, pushing past Fort Luna to the east and putting it firmly back in control of the empire again.

For now.

Despite not having left the palace in four days Blue knew everything that was going on. She had sent out her own ears and eyes to keep careful watch over everything happening with the rebellion… and with her mother. Who had taken to wandering the halls at night, according to the servants. She and Pink now slept with their doors tightly latched.

Said princess walked up the palace stairs to the second floor, a tray laden with the usual breakfast fair held in both her hands. She balanced the tray on one hand and pushed open Yellow’s door. The room was dark, the sun, blocked out by the heavy curtains drawn tightly closed over them.

Blue nudged the door closed with her hip and walked quietly through the dark room, setting the tray gently on the bedside table before going to open the curtains. With a flourish the curtains opened, letting the fresh sunlight spill across the walls and floor, casting the room in it’s warm glow.

From her position face down in the bed, Yellow grumbled.

“Good morning, to you as well.” She said, walking up to the bed and glancing at the bandages wrapped around Yellow’s torso before she settled herself onto her knees, eye level with the bed.

With a slight turn of her head one amber colored eye appeared from where it had been buried in the pillow.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, reaching out to run her fingers through the mussed blonde hair. “Did you sleep alright?”

Yellow grunted an affirmative. Her eye closing again under Blue’s gentle ministrations.

“I brought you something to eat, are you hungry?”

“Yes…” Her voice was still thick with sleep and muffled by the pillow. Blue smiled, glad life seemed to be returning to Yellow. She had refused all food and drink the first two days. She had very nearly shoved some down her throat in desperation the day before. She carefully and slowly helped her sit up. Yellow hissed with every movement till she was sitting up with her feet hanging off the bed.

“The physician should be in soon to change your bandages.” She said as she set the tray in Yellow’s lap.

Yellow gave a tired nod as she slowly brought food to her mouth. It seemed every movement pained her and it tore at Blue’s heart.

“How’s Rosaline?” Yellow questioned after swallowing her first bite.

“Better. She’s starting to be able to move her fingers again.” She paused and Yellow looked up at her. “She’d very much like to come see you.”

Yellow’s eyes fell back to the tray in her lap.

“You know I don’t want her to see me like this, Azurine. I don’t even want you to see me…” She turned away.

Gentle but firm fingers on her chin made her look up at the stony face of the eldest princess.

“Nothing will keep me from you, Aurelia.” It was a promise more than anything. A statement of absolute fact. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, my love. This is my fault…” Blue released her, frowning.

“What?” Yellow blinked, trying to understand her companion’s train of thought. Blue turned away.

“When my mother began acting unusual I should have done something. Now the empire is caught in a bloody rebellion and worse still you and Rosaline are suffering for my inaction…If I had acted, I could have saved my people from this, saved you both from this.” Tears were gathering in her eyes

Rough fingers smoothed over her cheek and cerulean eyes shot open to look at Yellow. The effort of holding up her arm obviously pained her and Blue took hold of it, holding it to her face, the muscles sagged with relief.

“No one could have foreseen this, Blue...” She soothed and Blue sniffed. A small smile pulled at Blue’s lips and she looked up at Yellow beneath her wet lashes.

The knight’s raised brows, a silent indicator of her question.

“Here it is, you’re the injured one, but you’re comforting me…” She half laughed half choked.

“As I always will.” Yellow smiled tiredly at her, caressing her cheek with a calloused thumb.

With a watery smile she turned to lay a kiss on the rough palm

“Will you let Pink come? No matter how I assure her, she won’t believe it till she’s seen you herself.” She mumbled against the skin. Yellow sighed.

“I suppose.” She agreed before pulling back her hand to continue eating. Blue watched her with a serene smile.

“I’m going to do something…” Blue finally said quietly after a few minutes, prompting a curious look from Yellow. “About mother...It’s time I acted. She’s become a danger to the empire and to us…” She explained and Yellow looked more than alarmed.

“Blue…” She started unsure. “We both know that I will stand by you, but I am… useless right now.” She hissed.

Blue could tell it hurt her just to say it.

“You can’t fight, but you are never useless, darling, besides, I haven’t yet decided what course of action I need to take, regardless.” She calmed the knight, some of the panic going from her face at that. “But I must act...She’s become unpredictable and grows more violent by the day.” Blue sighed.

“Has something happened?”

“A group of rebel prisoners were brought in from the front last night, they are set to be burned alive today.” She scowled.

“Meaning the rebels will answer in kind with our captured soldiers…” Yellow sighed, gaze dropping to the floor.

“Things have become a mess…” Blue shook her head.

“Things have been a mess… they’re just getting worse as your mother’s condition worsens.” Yellow said around a mouthful of bread. Blue couldn’t find it in her to disagree.

“I will fix this…” Blue promised, watching the knight flinch with certain movements.

“You will.” Yellow stated. A fact without doubt. Blue smiled.

They sat in comfortable silence while Yellow ate.

No sooner had she finished a knock sounded on the door. Blue stood up, smoothing out her skirts and standing a respectable distance away.

“Come in.” Yellow called.

The royal physician poked his head through and smiled upon seeing the knight sitting up. He bowed to Blue.

“A good morning to you, your Highness and to you captain. It’s time to change your bandages.” He stepped inside, the necessary supplies under one arm. Yellow nodded.

“I will leave you to it. I’ll go let Rosaline know of what we talked about, captain.” Blue said as she moved around the man to the door. Yellow nodded.

Blue quietly shut the door behind her as she walked out in the hall. The fact that both Pink and Yellow seemed to be on the mend lifted some of the weight from her shoulders.

They we're both so resilient.

she smiled to herself as she walked up the steps to the third floor where Pink's and her own room where located.

she was so engrossed in her thoughts but she did not notice the person coming toward her down the hall.

"Azurine"

Blue stopped cold suddenly noticing her mother standing in front of her in the hall and immediately began to try and determine how lucid the queen was.

"Mother…"Blue had to force herself to curtsy in the queen's presence.

"How are you today?" The queen questioned and it gave Blue pause. For the first time in days the queen's eyes seemed clear, at least for now.

"Fine... I was just on my way to speak with Rosaline…" she said warily. Unsure how to proceed, she didn’t know what might set of a change in the monarch.

"Ah, of course. I won't keep you, I was wondering if you had seen Captain Stone?" She inquired. Blue jolted, looking at her mother with wide blue eyes. Was this a sick jape? Looking into her mother’s eyes, she decided that no, it wasn’t. Her mother did not remember ordering the knight to lashings.

“Captain Stone is in bed, healing from her wounds…” The words came out sharp and cold.

“Wounds?” The queen tilted her head, looking concerned and a deep coldness settled over Blue, turning her insides to ice.

“Yes, from the lashing’s you ordered four days ago…” It took all she had not to ground those words out between her teeth. The queen seemed surprised by this news before a slow understanding seemed to crawl upon her face.

“Oh… yes… I suppose I did…” The queen was looking off into the distance again, seemingly lost. “I suppose I’ll send the garrison commander…” She seemed to be talking more to herself now as she began to wander away without a second glance at her elder daughter.

A blinding fury rose up in Blue, that her mother could have Yellow publicly lashed and than forget it had ever happened.

Her fists clenched into her skirts and she jerked when her fingers brushed the handle of the dagger strapped to her thigh.

Blue jolted up straight as her fingers slipped through the small, purposeful slit in her dress and let her fingers wrap around the onyx handle.

They were alone in the hall.

The queen's back turned to her only a few feet away, unsuspecting.

It would be so quick.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the handle before she let her it go, and watched the older woman walk down the stairs till her white hair disappeared from sight.

Beneath all Blue's fury was sorrow. Sorrow that everyday someone she had once loved was slowly disappearing, becoming an apparition that haunted the palace halls, and her and her sister’s memories.

She shut her eyes tight and let out a long sigh before continuing down the hall to Pink's room.

She rapped her knuckles against the door and her sister's yell immediately invited her inside.

Blue peaked inside to find the youngest princess sitting on her bed. Her bandaged hands set gently in her lap.

Pink looked up to her, smiling,but the moment her eyes landed on Blue the smile fell away.

"What's wrong?" The youngest royal asked as she slid off the bed to stand in front of her.

"Nothing's wrong." She insisted. Pink just frowned up at her and Blue sighed. "I simply ran into mother in the hall…she was asking for Yellow. She has no recollection I'm ordering Yellows lashings."

The frown on Pink's lips seemed to deepen as she looked around Blue at the closed door, as though her mother might come through at any given second.

"It's alright." Blue said. "She went down the stairs."

"I saw her walking around the halls last night…" She glanced back up at Blue.

"I heard her." Blue nodded.

"What is she doing?"

"I couldn't begin to guess." Blue shook her head wearily. "Something to worry about another day. I came to tell you the Yellow has finally agreed to let you come see her."

That seemed to instantly cheer the younger girl. The smile jumping back onto her face.

"Really?" She bounced on her toes and Blue could only smile and nod.

"The physician was changing her bandages when I left but they should be finished by the time we get back."

“Yes, let’s go!” She nodded eagerly. She reached for the door but stopped, wincing a little as her fingers tried to close around the handle.

“Let me, Pink.” Blue reached around her and opened the door.

“Right… thanks.” Pink peaked out into the hall and finding it devoid of the queen hurried to the stairs, Blue right behind her.

Just as they approached Yellow’s door, it swung open as the royal physician let himself out, he stopped, seeing the princess’ and gave a quick bow.

“Your Highness’.” He looked to Blue “The captain’s wounds are healing as expected, there have been no signs of infection either.” He smiled and internally Blue sagged with relief at the news. “They have begun to scab over so moving will prove a bit more difficult but it’s my suggestion that she go outside for some fresh air. Perhaps you will have better luck convincing her than I.” He smiled and gave another bow to the two before turning and walking away.

He left the door open and Pink wasted no time darting inside.

“Yellow!” Pink beamed as soon as she saw the blonde. “How are you? How do you feel? Does it hurt terribly?” She fired off making the knight blink owlishly at her.

Blue giggled as she closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them in the privacy of Yellow’s quarters.

“Pink, breathe and let her answer one question before you ask another.” She reminded the girl as she passed to sit on the bed next to the knight.

“I’ll be fine, Rosaline. How are you?” She asked instead. Pink blinked back, surprised by the question. She looked down at her bandaged hands, each individual finger carefully covered to prevent infection, thought it also made it difficult to move them.

“No, I’m fine!” She held up her hands as if to show the knight. Yellow didn’t look at all convinced.

“I’ve been burned before.” She said easily. “I imagine it still hurts quite a bit.” She stated simply.

Pink twitched her fingers and twinged at the pain and tightness in the digits, she frowned.

“You’re a lot stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

She jerked up to look at Yellow wide eyed.

“I’ve known grown men who whined more at less.” She hummed. Pink’s cheeks darkened at the knight captain’s praise.

Blue looked adoringly at the knight out the side of her eye.

“Yeah… well, thanks.” The princess mumbled abashedly.

"The physician said it would be best if you went outside for some fresh air and sunshine…" Blue spoke up taking the attention off the youngest.

Yellow pursed her lips and turned her head, avoiding Blues gaze.

"I know you probably don't want to go outside or let anyone see you but it will help.”

“I��d prefer not too…” The knight groused.

“Please, for me?" Blue batted her eyes at the knight whose face puckered up like she’d swallowed a lemon.

"Fine" She finally scowled.

"Excellent" She smiled. "I'll help you get into something." She stood from the bed and walked over to the open wardrobe on the far side of the room. Yellow huffed as Blue began digging through her attire.

"Yellow?"

The knight turned back to Pink who was gently touching the bandages wrapped around her fingers and looking intently at the stone floor.

"What is it, Rosaline?"

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, looking at the knight from beneath her lashes.

Blonde eyebrows disappeared into equally blonde hair. Yellows eyes flickered to Blue who had stopped to watch the two over her shoulder.

"For what?" The knight questioned.

Pink's eyes went back to her hands.

"If I hadn't gotten hurt you probably wouldn't have been punished…" She began softly.

“Stop” Yellow said quietly but the one word halted all other noise in the room. She sighed tierdley and Pink tried not to shrink in on herself at the woman’s aggravated look.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Rosaline.”

“But…”

“No” Yellow snapped, scowling but it wasn’t Pink she was angry at. “What happened was not your fault… nor yours.” She looked up at Blue. “It was simply something unfortunate that happened due to the queen’s… sickness. You and I both are victims of that, Pink.” She finished.

Pink looked at her wide eyed.

“What?” Yellow leaned back at the wide grin on the girl’s face.

“You’ve never called me ‘Pink’ before.” Her wide eyes almost sparkled in the morning sun.

Yellow felt her face grow hot and she turned to Blue who was just smiling at her.

“Are we going outside or not?” She finally huffed, turning her full attention to Blue, who was still standing in the open wardrobe.

“Of course, darling.” She giggled to herself, pulling some clothes out.

“Next time just enjoy it, don’t make mention of it.” Blue whispered into Pink’s ear as she walked by. Pink just grinned.

Getting Yellow dressed was a slow process, as was getting her down the stairs without too much jostling.

“Let’s go to my garden!” Pink suggested. Blue looked at Yellow who just nodded as they slowly made their way to the private garden the queen had built when Pink was born.

It was private, no palace windows faced it and servants only attended it at certain times. Right now it stood empty save for the three of them and the immaculate rose bushes of varying colors that surrounded the area.

Yellow carefully sat herself on the large carved marble bench, Blue sitting next to her, hands folded in her lap. Their legs brushed but Blue made sure to keep well away from the knights torso. Pink quickly disappeared into the forest of flowers. They could hear her her rustling about somewhere in the foliage.

Blue glanced at her companion and was glad the knight seemed to perk up in the warm sunlight.

‘Like a grouchy sunflower.’ She thought to herself, amused.

Yellow carefully reached out and took one of Blue’s folded hands and held it securely in her own. Blue couldn’t help the tranquil smile that worked its way onto her face as the warmth of Yellow’s skin seeped into her. She held the knights hand in her lap, running her fingers over her knuckles contentedly.

“I wish everyday could be like this one.” She murmured. Yellow made an agreeing sound.

“I found them!” Pink came running up to them with a pair of roses held carefully in her bandaged hands and handed one to Yellow and Blue, who was grinning brightly at the golden colored rose now grasped between her fingers.

Yellow hummed in thought at the sapphire tinted flower the princess had given her.

“They’re beautiful, Pink.” Blue smiled, sliding the flower’s stem into her hair behind her ear, careful of the thorns.

“They are.” Yellow agreed. Blue plucked the flower from her hand and set it carefully behind Yellow’s ear, ignoring the look the knight was giving her.

“Ah, but what about you?” Blue questioned.

“Me?” Pink asked.

“Yes, you.” She smiled and reached across to one of the nearby rose bushes and carefully plucked off one of its dainty, blush colored flowers. Carefully Blue arranged the plant in her sister’s puffy curls until she was satisfied.

“Perfect.” She leaned back, admiring her work with a smile.

“Indeed.” Yellow agreed with a nod.

“Thanks…” Pink ducked her head, trying to hide the smile she couldn’t push down.

They sat in the garden till the sun dipped behind the palace’s walls, casting them in shadows.

“Come, we had best go back inside. Yellow needs to rest and it’s time to have your bandages changed. You head off that way.” Blue told Pink as she stood from the bench and stretched before turning back around to offer her hands to Yellow and helping her stand.

“Alright.” Pink sighed and stood from the ground. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, Yellow.” She called as she took off jogging back toward the castle.

“Energetic as ever.” Yellow chuckled.

“She wasn’t like that yesterday, you know. She’s really been missing you…” She said, helping the knight stand.

Yellow hummed, but Blue caught the twitch of her lip.

“You know…” She started, looking at the deep cobalt rose still sitting behind the knight’s ear. “I think that flower is very becoming of you, my love.” She smirked.

Yellow chuckled.

“I think blue might be my color.” She grinned at her.

Blue rolled her eyes, but the smile betrayed her as she pressed her hands to the knight’s cheeks.

“I think you might be right.” She murmured before pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

#bellow diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #pink diamond #white diamond #steven universe #fanfic

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halfgclden · 4 years ago

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Cards for Sorrow... | Abel&Gabriele

Date: October 30th, 2020

Summary: A page delivers a message. A plan is made.

It took a lot of Abel's strength to not immediately tell Gabriele everything that had happened that night when they saw him, but they restrained themself, if only for Rory's sake. However, once them and their cousin parted ways for the evening, Abel was back at the tarot reading tent, and, once through the queue, they sat in front of Gab and placed their hands face down on the table. "I have a problem, and I think you might be helpful in solving it. At least interested in it."

The night was nearing the end and Gabriele was starting to feel the strain of continually reading cards for the citizens of New Athens. Still, he smiled when Abel sat before him, not noticing the strain on their face. He shuffled his deck as they spoke. "Awesome. I can't promise tarot will give you answers to your problem, but we can definitely uncover some signs and guidance. Want to tell me more about it?"

Abel shook their head. "No, not tarot. Ag, I should've explained that better." They moved past lamenting the fact that they had not been clear in their first statement in order to be clear in the next one. "It's a ghost problem." They watched as Gabriele shuffled the cards. "Have you ever dealt with a possession?"

His hand slipped mid shuffle and one card fell face-up to the table— the Page of Pentacles. Gabriele frowned at the card, then at Abel, blinking for a few moments. A slight chill travelled through his body. "No, I haven't," he said. "But I believe I'm meant to be helping you with whatever is going on. Can you tell me more?"

Abel looked from the card on the table to Gabriele’s face, and their lips twitched upward involuntarily, reminded of Jacob. “Ah,” they sighed when he admitted that he had no experience, but had to admit that their spirits were slightly lifted (no pun intended) to know that someone would be helping them. “It’s Major. Being possessed. By... There’s one main ghost, but I believe there’s more, stuffed in there, and loud, and violent.”

Another chill moved down his spine and a small weight settled in his stomach; Gabriele's frown deepened as Abel explained. "Major," he mumbled, then he pressed a hand to his chin as his worry grew. "Do you know when this happened?" he asked. "Is he still in there? I only spoke to him once and I felt something strange, but he told me it was because he had a near death experience." Had he really missed something this drastic?

Abel shook their head again. "Nee. I had a dream about it, I believe, a few weeks ago, but I didn't know what it meant until I saw him." They frowned deeply under their mask. "I believe he's still in there. I silenced the ghosts, and he still spoke, and he seemed dazed. The ghost is not that good of an actor. He regained control after a few moments, then ran off again." Abel cleared their throat. "This was after the near death experience."

The more he learned, the more sure Gabriele was that this was exactly what he'd been looking for all this time. "Okay," he said quietly. He was partially relieved that he hadn't overlooked a possession, but it was still disturbing to know there was one at all. "I had a vision, too, about two months ago. I'm sure this is related." He glanced around the room, then picked up the card, folding it back into his deck. "Do you know who the ghost is?"

Abel nodded now, not taking their eyes off of Gab. "I doubt two visions about the same event are not connected." They ran their tongue over their teeth and sighed. "I think that it's the one that died on the quest in February. Lucien?"

Gabriele made a disconcerted noise. "I see..." He closed his eyes, rubbed his brow. "It was a violent death, yes? Sometimes ghosts have a hard time moving on when they are suddenly killed. But I'm surprised I didn't see anything between then and when... this happened." He shuddered, disturbed anew at the idea.

Abel nodded once more. “Violent, jarring, and now he’s been brought back.” They curled their hand into a fist on the table. “Ya, well... I don’t know. If it was his body, I could turn a blind eye, but now I have to get him out of there.” They sighed and leaned back in their chair. “Every time I’ve encountered him, I’ve been missing my spear, or else I would have reaped him on the spot.”

Gabriele nodded in agreement, up until Abel mentioned their spear. His face grew a little guarded and he leaned forward. “Are you sure that won’t also hurt Major?” he asked. He drummed his fingers on the table as he thought about it. “I’d like to help you, but I want to... try to make sure the host has minimal damage done to him.”

Abel set their jaw, pushing their headband up so that they could look at Gabriele with both eyes. "I'm not sure," they admitted, "but Major is in a worse pain right now. I don't know how... lucid he is, but having someone else in charge of you while you watch? A fate worse than death."

"Porca troia..." Gabriele mumbled as a wave of nausea rolled over him. "I hope for his sake that he's not lucid at all. I can't imagine what it must be— Well, I think I can, but whatever I'm picturing must be tamer than reality." He frowned again, fighting the urge to do a reading for himself for where he should even begin. "He doesn't deserve to spend the final weeks of his life like this. Let's try to make sure he comes out of this still living. Do you know where he's gone off to?"

Abel let Gabriele roll the thought over in his mind and shook their head. "No, but I know who brought him back from the dead. Do you know Jordan? He's a child of Hecate, and I saw him in my dream." They sighed. "He's a brother of my friend. Known to be reclusive, but not this demented."

Gabriele pressed his fingers to his temple and rubbed small circles there. "In my vision, I saw... A bird, coming back to life. Maybe he's done this before on a small scale." He was quiet again for a few moments. "I have heard of Jordan, but I don't believe we've spoken. I can't understand why he'd do this, unless he knew Lucien."

Abel set their jaw once more, a wave of anger at their inability to do anything thus far shooting through them. "Because he could? Do people not just test out their power to see if they can do things? Have you seen Jurassic Park?"

Despite the seriousness of this conversation, Gabriele smiled just a little. "I have not," he said, shaking his head. "You could be right. But I suppose I like to believe people are slightly more... forgivable? Regardless, we should try to figure out what spell he did."

Abel dragged their fingertips along the table, wishing there was some splinter to pick at. "I do not wish to give people the benefit of the doubt when they do horrific things. Can't stand the heat, don't attempt necromancy." They frowned again. "How will we figure that out? I can ask him."

Gabriele nodded in understanding, not wishing to argue the philosophy of this when there were more pressing issues. “Only if you believe that he will speak on it willingly.” He snapped his fingers. “I was hoping to talk to the children of Hecate for some personal research, maybe I can discover something that way.”

Abel shrugged one shoulder. "If I ask him directly and present him with the facts, I can gauge by his reaction what the best course of action would be. Maybe you can figure out the spell, and then I can speak with my father to decide what the necessary punishment is."

Gabriele didn't comment on the subject of punishment— he would happily let that be Abel's domain unless his goddess asked him to do otherwise. Letting the comment glide past him, he instead focused in on how he could get into the Hecate cabin. "I believe I've seen Jordan at the library, so I can approach him there."

Abel picked uselessly at the table again and nodded. "Sure. Let me know what information you glean from him, and I'll follow up, I suppose."

"Can I have your phone number?" he asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He had to admit, he thought they'd be exchanging information under different circumstances, but he could accept this.

Abel reached out as though to take Gab's phone, but didn't want a mishap with technology to turn this conversation (even more) sour. They recited it to him instead, then drummed their fingers on the table. "If I don't answer right away, don't be afraid to send a smoke signal or whisper my name into a hollowed out tree."

Gabriele, once again, was amused despite the seriousness of the situation. He also wasn’t sure if Abel meant it (their abilities were strange so Gabriele was willing to accept anything) or if it was a joke. This just made it funnier. “Noted,” he said with a small hum as he saved Abel as a contact. “If you need to reach me, I’m almost always on Instagram. No magical forms of contact for me, unfortunately.”

"Just the magic of technology," Abel sighed and pushed their chair back so that they could stand. "Your cards are lovely, by the way," they said once they'd made sure that they had everything. "I meant to say that earlier, but the other subject seemed a bit more pressing.”

“Oh,” Gabriele looked down at his deck and smiled. “Grazie. Yes, this was definitely more pressing. I will reach out to you very soon as soon as I learn more. And... I appreciate you coming to me. I think we can both help each other a great deal to save our friend.”

Abel felt that it would be in poor taste to point out that they weren't really friends with Major and were just doing this because it felt like the right thing to do, so they nodded. "I appreciate the help. You were the first person I thought of." Knowing that there were undoubtedly more people lined up for a reading from Gab, they took a step back into the shadows, held up a hand, and disappeared.

#c: abel #c: abelgabriele #cards for sorrow

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quidfree · 5 years ago

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Hi! Thinking of Dumbledore + Sirius, do you think Sirius would feel sympathy for Dumbledore if he knew about how torn he was btw his siblings + feeling trapped? I judged him harshly at first, but now I think about the difficulty about losing both parents + sibling, but not wanting to sacrifice everything to step in as parent + guilt that comes with that. I do think Dumbledore loved his siblings + I was happy when his bro said he did a good job with their sis before her death.

hi! this is an interesting one hm

the thing abt dumbledore is that i’m pretty sympathetic to him all things considered- i’ve never really taken the time to explain my feelings about him on here but i definitely don’t think he’s snape levels of “fandom should see he’s irredeemably terrible!”, though i have a lot of qualms about him. he’s certainly not the hero rowling thinks he is, but he’s also not the guy rita skeeter says he is, to put it succintly.

on the one hand, i do think canon mostly fails to acknowledge that he was very manipulative/calculating and made a lot of very cold (or just plain terrible) choices- everything to do with sirius, for one, as well as the whole dursley situation. i know there’s a couple of reasons harry had to live with them (supposedly...) and i can’t be bothered to go into them, but even then i never understood why he couldn’t have done to petunia what he does in OOTP (?) sooner- send a letter to scare the shit out of her and remind her to treat harry decently or at least leave him to his own devices. like, there was so much he could have done in the years between the potters’ deaths and hogwarts- that squib neighbour was already spying/reporting for him, so he was fully aware of it all, idk. i just find that whole thing exemplary of his callousness. it’s more unforgivable to me than raising harry knowing he might need to die for the cause- because that was necessary to defeat voldemort, but giving harry an escape from abuse was so avoidable. his handling of other characters also doesn’t paint him in the best light, sirius as most obvious suspect- there’s a good piece on tumblr about sirius being a liability in his eyes because he’s not loyal to dumbledore or his cause above all else, but to the potters (and ultimately harry) and his own code, and i really think it’s the best reading of dumbledore’s handling of sirius in OOTP, because i always found that kind of insane. it’s brain-dead obvious that the worst thing to do with sirius (especially if you were worried about his unhinged state and whatnot) would be sticking him in grimmauld place- even if they had to keep him hidden, they could have let him floo between order hideouts! see other people! prowl london as a dog! it’s insane that dumbledore of all people would be that dumb about it, so it makes the most sense to me as him locking sirius up where he’s the most contained.

on the other hand, dumbledore was both a quirky schoolmaster and a wartime militia leader, and i think a lot of the weirdness in his character is bc rowling set out to write a much more child-like series than she ended up writing. dumbledore is a pretty iconic guy in the books, manipulations included- he’s such a chessmaster, and he has flair, as kingsley would put it. most importantly he clearly tries very hard to orchestrate the best possible outcome for the entire world- not based on arbitrary beliefs or personal whims, but because he’s sort of the main bastion of hope in the wizarding world. i don’t necessarily think his actions in this context are all excusable, but he’s a war-time leader, and pretty much knows it’s all down to him- although the order is certainly competent, it’s a very ragtag group of people dumbledore holds together, and in terms of skill, knowledge and aura he’s their biggest asset. he’s already been through a wizarding war where he probably set out to murder the love of his life, another wizard supremacist wackjob! we know he’s long past egoism- he’s genuinely For The Greater Good, and he clearly cares about harry; his choices are undoubtedly not made lightly. it’s also important to note just how bad wizarding society as a whole is on these issues- even the most muggle-friendly wizards are remarkably ignorant about them (arthur weasley), and everyone else is at least marginally bigoted; bigotry is built into the fabric of their society, and their government is extemely complacent/corrupt, so the order and their ilk are very much on their own, while people like the malfoys are tolerated despite the open secret of their wartime alliances. dumbledore has a tough job, and he doesn’t know all the things the reader knows. so i think the op-eds calling him Just As Bad As Voldemort or whatever are missing any nuance.

then we get into dumbledore’s backstory. it explains a lot about him, i think. it’s interesting to me that he’s so consistent as a character- he has always been about The Greater Good, and he’s always had an ego, but as a child he let the latter dictate the former and as an adult he forever attempted to substract it from himself lest he repeat the same mistakes. some more questionable rep from ms rowling in having her (1) gay character be the guy literally seduced into wizard supremacy by his evil boyfriend, but i always liked that beat of a very isolated extremely intelligent character drawn into a warped sense of righteousness- it’s also very consistent of dumbledore to believe he’s doing the best for someone when he’s not really thinking about that at all, which is the case with his sister. obviously his family’s story is tragic, and then he gets pulled into this fake vision of a better world, validated in his brilliance, and then there’s his mother’s death, and then his sister, and suddenly it’s all come crashing down and he spends the next years of his life slowly realizing he’s the only one who can stop a project he might have been overseeing once. aberforth lays into him for it, and fair enough, but jesus, what a shitty spot to be in fresh out of hogwarts. i don’t know if it’s because i’m an older sibling, but i can understand the horrible burden of knowing that it’s always on you to think of yourself second, even when you’re inches away from the best thing in your life.

getting sidetracked- the question was about sirius and dumbledore. the thing abt LMV is that i try to keep my own opinions out of it; the marauders-dumbledore dynamic is a difficult one. they all respect him endlessly, and in school i think they adored him, but as a wartime leader it gets complicated. i think in canon their relationship was better, just a little strained (and a little more for others) bc of his style of leadership- you know, keeping secrets, playing games etc. in LMV, though, his machinations got them personally into some shit, so i wagered things would be more terse. james i think thinks most positively of him, as he is wont to do so, except where he is somehow at odds with sirius, because his loyalties there are clear and he is far more violently protective of sirius than he lets on. lily is a close second, because she’s a big picture thinker and gets how hard his job is, but she tends to be wary of his reasoning. remus is a more distrustful person by nature, and dumbledore using him for werewolf stuff wears him down. sirius is not a fan of authority, does not like secrets, and hates people using him as a pawn, so things are most strained for him, obviously. i think a lot of dumbledore introspection in LMV is from sirius’ POV, somewhat accidentally, so he gets a harsh rep.

to finally get to the specifics of your question: would dumbledore’s backstory get sirius to sympathise? arguably not much. sirius is a tricky guy, esp because i write him in a period that we know nothing about. he’s not a cocky slightly feral 15 year old, and he’s not a traumatised 30 something prison escapee; i try to get a plausible balance, so i don’t lend sirius in LMV so much of OOTP sirius’ world-weary wisdom. he’s 21, and in a war where the other side are wizard nazis he’s mostly related to somehow; he sees things in blacks and whites almost necessarily. so either you’re good or bad, trustworthy or not. peter crossed the threshold, so he’s dead to him; regulus turned himself in, but he’s one of them, so sirius doesn’t know what to do with him. sirius might understand how hard it is to have younger siblings you love fiercely who don’t understand your commitment to a higher goal, but dumbledore was on the wrong side of things that time, so i don’t think he would draw any sympathetic parallels- i don’t see why he of all people would feel bad for where dumbledore’s youthful aspirations of wizarding supremacy lead him, despite his good intentions. he’s not very forgiving of bigotry, i think especially because he’s cut all ties with his own background so harshly.

tldr; i feel for the guy, and his life was fucked, but sirius probably would not, and dumbledore got enough unwarranted hero worship considering his dodgy actions that i don’t resent sirius for holding that grudge.

#qui repond #lmv #sirius #dumbledore #meta #hp #so loong

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get-your-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Duality - Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Your life as Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was pretty simple, actually. Well, as simple as things can get in Gotham. But it gets a lot more complicated when you meet Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome’s twin brother.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader, Jeremiah Valeska x reader, Jerome Valeska x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, kidnapping, stalking, mentions of abuse

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Just when you had started to recover your strength, you were once again on bed rest. Your body had stitches here and there from the broken mirror and blue and purple bruises. You couldn’t sleep anymore, forming dark circles under your eyes, and completely lost your appetite. But worse than all of the physical effects were the mental ones. You only spoke when absolutely necessary now and did everything in your power to stay in his good graces. You felt paralyzed with fear knowing that he could cause you harm without even touching you. Escape seemed impossible.

Jeremiah was more cold and distant towards you. He still took his liberties: he kissed you, spent the nights with you, still insisted he loved you, but it wasn’t the same. All of his actions were calculated, like he had thought them out beforehand, and he was more cautious. He was careful not to slip up around you. It was like he had said: you were back at square one.

You didn’t look up when the door opened. You could tell who it was just by the weight and sound of the footsteps. “Hello, (Y/N).”

You stared down at the white duvet and picked at a thread. “Hi, Jeremiah.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” His grave tone made you look up immediately, and your eyes met his shocking, green ones. “That’s better.” His scarlet lips curled into the smallest smile. “The preparations are almost complete. Bruce Wayne is coming by later to see the engine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. Bruce... Maybe there was still a chance you could get out, a tiny sliver of hope? “You mean...” you trailed off.

His grin grew wider. “My plan to take over Gotham will soon be enacted. All that’s left,” he squatted down in front of you so your eyes were at the same level, “is you.” He reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your chin. “Which leads to the important question I have to ask you.”

His gaze burned a hole in you, but you didn’t dare look away. “Yes?”

“Do you know the myth of Hades and Persephone?”

You quirked a brow. “Yes.” The amused look on his face fell. He looked taken aback, stunned into silence. “Did you expect me to say no so you could launch into some long, villainous monologue?” You couldn’t help the smile that came over your features.

He shot daggers at you. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, love.” He stepped away from you. “In case you’ve forgotten, Hades took Persephone to the underworld and offered her a choice: she could eat the seeds of a pomegranate and stay bound to the underworld forever, or she could return to the land of the living with her mother, Demeter.” He tilted his head to the side. “You ultimately know what she decided. She became the queen of the underworld and spent six months a year with Hades.”

“So... that’s the important question? If I know some basic Greek mythology?” You couldn’t stop the unimpressed tone from sneaking into your voice.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “No, this is.” He reached in the pocket of his suit pants. “I want to offer you the same choice.” He pulled out a small, metallic cylinder. It had a nozzle and looked like some sort of spray. “Turns out my brother’s serum wasn’t completely useless. I was able to make some simple adjustments, fine tune it a little bit...” His cold stare switched from the spray to you, his lips curling into a smirk.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No...” You scooted back on the bed as far as you could until your back hit the wall. “Please, don’t!”

“Relax, dear.” He let out a small, airy laugh. “This is a part of your choice.” He held it out to you. “You can spray yourself with this and stop pretending to be someone else. You can set yourself free, free to be the true you you’ve hidden deep down inside, to cater to every dark whim and desire you’ve ever had. Then, you can spend the rest of your life with me, and we’ll rule Gotham side by side together. I’ll continue to take care of you and provide for you.” His expression turned glum. “Or I’ll let you go. You can walk out of here and go back to living the life you had before I found you and took you in.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You could leave? No, it was too good to be true. It had to be some sort of trick. “And you’ll remove the thing from my neck?” you tested him.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the remote that controlled the implant in your neck. He dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his foot, smashing it to smithereens. “And I’ll remove it too,” he added.

You clenched your jaw. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He walked over to the door and pulled it wide open. “The door is wide open.” He came back over to you and took out a map. “And here’s a copy of the map of the maze.” He set it down on the bed in front of you. “As soon as you decide to leave, you’re free to do so.” He held the spray back out to you. “So? What do you say?”

You focused on the silver cylinder in his hand. You hesitantly reached out and took it, your fingers brushing against his cold ones. You stared down at the object, so small and harmless in your palm. You knew the obvious choice was to leave, to run away as far as you could, but you couldn’t stop your thoughts from straying to what would happen if you chose otherwise. You would finally be free, in a sense. Free from responsibility and fear. Free to embrace your past and let the darkness you’ve been hiding from for so long consume you, let it seep in and fill all the gaping holes in your soul. So what if it was bad? You wouldn’t know the difference anymore. The line between good and evil and dark and light would be blurred and there would only be... you. It would be nice.

And you wouldn’t have to be alone, either. You looked up at Jeremiah, at the hopeful look on his face. He would always be by your side, you were sure of that. His obsession for you was unwavering, despite how twisted and disturbed it was, and you could always count on him to be loyal. You’d never have to be afraid of losing him...

Then, your thoughts turned onto a boy with chocolate brown eyes and jet black locks, pale pink lips turned up into a small smile. How could you leave Bruce like that? Everyone in his life had let him down except for you. You had been there for him since the beginning, the one stable, constant thing in the tumultuous storm that was his life. Jeremiah might love you, but Bruce was deeply, irrevocably in love with you. His devotion to you was pure and simple and made all the hell the two of you went through bearable and worthwhile. And your mother, your friends? You couldn’t leave them behind either, even if it meant struggling with the darkness inside of you for the rest of your life.

“No!” you yelled and threw the spray at his feet. “I can’t do it!” You hugged your knees to your chest and rocked yourself back and forth, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You looked up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “We don’t have to live this way, Jeremiah, immersed in darkness and fear. We don’t have to cut all the good things out of our lives just to deal with the shit we’ve gone through. We can rise above it. We’re strong, much stronger than we think we are.”

The light drained from his eyes, and the blank expression on his face made your blood run cold through your veins. He reached down and picked up the small spray can. “Of course, there is the version of the myth where Hades chooses for Persephone,” he spoke slowly in an eerie monotone.

Before you could register his words, he sprayed the can right in your face. A purple mist clouded your vision and filled your lungs. You coughed and hacked violently, and with every intake of breath, the substance filled you more and more. You felt like you were suffocating, and you fell back on the bed, writhing and twisting in the sheets. It was like you were on fire, and you scratched at your skin like you were trying to peel it off. You grabbed at your hair and gnashed your teeth, tearing out some strands. The air filled with your screams, and all you could see was purple when you opened your eyes.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I thought you would make the right decision.” You could barely hear Jeremiah’s voice over the sound of your agonizing shrieks. “I won’t stand by and watch you throw away everything we’ve done together just because you can’t see things the way I do. That can be fixed.” His glassy, green eyes pierced through the purple haze. “I won’t let you make that mistake.”

Suddenly, all of the pain faded away, and you collapsed on the bed, heaving. Your body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and you blinked rapidly, clearing the purple blocking your vision. You slowly sat up and looked around. Everything was in technicolor, and that sinking, empty feeling in your gut you had fought against for so long crawled out and spread to every limb of your body. It was like something had been unlocked inside of you and set free.

“Are you alright, dear?” He reached out and caressed your cheek. “I know the transformation can be painful. Unfortunately, that’s inevitable.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’m okay.” You leaned into his warm touch.

He smiled. “Good girl.” He smoothed out your hair. “You understand why I did what I did, don’t you? I had to do it for us to be together, so you could become who you were always meant to be.”

You nodded. The things he was saying just sounded right. “Yes.”

“You’re not mad at me?” He cupped your face with his hands, his lips pulling down into a pout.

You shook your head. “No.”

A small smile graced his features. “Good.” He ran his thumbs over your cheekbones. “I don’t know what I would do if you were mad at me. I love you so much, (Y/N).”

The corners of your lips tugged up into a smile. He seemed so inviting, so comforting. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, have his arms around you. “I love you, too, Jeremiah.”

His eyes lit up at your words. He leaned in and kissed you. “Say it again,” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you,” you said before he connected your lips again in a passionate kiss. You bunched the fabric of his shirt in your fists and pulled him closer to you. His hands drifted down to your sides and grabbed at your waist.

He separated your lips and rested his forehead against yours, his breath fanning your face. You closed your eyes and brushed your nose against his, desperate for any contact with him you could get. “I’m so glad you think that, darling,” his voice was breathy, “but there’s still something in the way, something that, I’m afraid if it’s not dealt with, will continue to get between us.”

You moved your hands to his hair and raked your fingers through the red strands. “I don’t want anything to come between us.”

His hand trailed up to caress your cheek. “Then you know what you have to do, don’t you?” The tip of his nose brushed against your cheekbone. The look in his green eyes was irresistible. “What you have to do so we can always be together?”

You nodded. Your lips lifted into a wide smirk, and you met his deadly gaze straight on.

“Kill Bruce Wayne.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

#jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x you #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x you #gotham #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #gotham fanfic

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