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eljeebee · 4 months ago

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Sisterly Quarrel

Lady Lenora never hibernated; she stayed up the whole night reading The Green Lady’s Tome.

Among the anecdotes found in the book, there was an entry about Ambrosia. Lenora hummed. She decided to bathe first before preparing for this week’s task.

Later that morning, Lenora made French toast, with the syrup made from the plasma fruit they have.

“Nora!” Percival came in the kitchen, “I finished tending to the trees – is that for me?!”

Lenora let out a chuckle. “Yes, little one.”

“How is it, Percy?” Lenora asked once they sat down. It’s always like this, she and Percival would sit down for “breakfast”. Lady Lana and Valentina once participated in this routine the two had, but since they had withered stomachs, they stopped. They just let them be.

“Tastes like the blood of my last hook up,” Percy chuckled.

Lenora hissed lowly, “What did I tell you about biting while doing sexual activities?”

Percy waved his hand, never feeling afraid of Lenora’s hiss. He knew it was just a warning, not a threat. “Relax, I kept her mouth covered!”

“Good grief.”

When the mail came in, Lenora read it while walking to their kitchen.

It says,

Another week, another newsletter! This week, it’s time to catch the first ingredient, an Angelfish! Ambrosia is a gourmet dish, so it’s time to brush up that skill! Make sure your garden is blossoming, Ambrosia requires a Death flower, so for this week, you will also need to graft an orchid and pomegranate plant. Thank you for subscribing to the Ambrosia Society Newsletter.

“Angelfish?” Lenora smiled, “I have that already.”

But when Lenora opened their freezer, there was no angelfish on sight. Lana…Lenora frowned.

While Valentina and Lana were discussing business, Lenora pulled Percy outside.

“I know you have a contact with the Straud’s agent witch, can you ask her a favor? I’ll give anything she might want; tell her to go to the Caster’s Alley and see if she could buy an angelfish,” Lenora said, her brows almost pinching.

“Why? I thought we caught those already?” Percy asked, confused.

“My sister, I assume,” Lenora almost hissed, “had thrown those out. Follow my instructions. I’ll tell them we’ll go out fishing, once we’re out of Fashion District, you give the witch a visit, and meet me at the meadows.”

Percy nodded, “Got it.”

Percy rang the bell, waited, pressed the doorbell again, waited, then banged on the door.

“WHAT DO YOU – O-Oh,” Lavender Lee took a step back. “It’s you. Percival Asvang.”

“Glad you still remember me, pretty doll! How was your trip? Did you have fun?” Percy beamed at her.

“It was quite an experience. Is there something you need?” Lavender asked, trying to feel for her doorknob.

Percy noticed this and cornered her to the railing. “Relax, doll. I just need to ask a favor. As much as I want to stay here and get to know you better, I got pressing…matters. You’re a spellcaster right?”

“How do you – ”

“Doesn’t matter! So, I know you guys have a realm, and Nora, err, my cousin, wants to get an angelfish. She says you can get them easily in some…alley there. Can you do that for me, doll? As a favor? Whatever you want, I can give you. Even a kiss.” Percy winked.

“W-Woah there, Mr. Asvang,” Lavender awkwardly chuckled. “Do you only need an angelfish?”

Percy nodded.

“Okay, I’ll get it – ”

“Great!” Percy grinned. He whipped out his phone, motioning her to give hers. She did, and he typed his number. “Text me or call me. Or if you’re able to, meet me at San Myshuno Meadows.”

Lavender nodded, taking back her phone. Percy pats her head, “See ya ‘round, doll.”

And he left, with a confused and abashed Lavender.

Luckily for the two of them, Lenora immediately caught one, so they were able to return home early. She hid the angelfish below the numerous plasma packs and frozen plasma extracts in their freezer, mentally taking notes to talk to her sister later.

Percy sat on the barstool reading a text from Lavender. “Lavender says she wasn’t able to buy one.”

“That’s okay,” Lenora said as she prepared a gourmet dish. “Please relay my gratitude. Tell her if she needs anything, she need only to ask me.”

Percy hummed, typing on his phone.

Lana hummed as she started her nightly skincare routine. Honestly, if you ask Lenora, it’s just sticking a face mask soaked in plasma fruit essence. She doesn’t know why her sister had to do this thing, given that they’re beautiful already – they’re the beautiful, enchanting Beau sisters for Watcher’s sake!

That’s not why Lenora is here, however…

“Sister!” Lana turned to her smiling. She approached her. “Are you finally thinking of trying the face mask?”

“No,” Lenora watched her. She frowned. Hissing, “Why did you throw the fish Percy and I caught a week ago?”

Her sister was taken aback with her demeanor. “But Nora, it’s just fish. You look angry. Are you angry? At me?”

Nora rubbed her temple. “Lana, I never stick my nose to your business, why must you be to me? You encourage me to do things that I want, so I agreed to be your curator for Gertrude’s; I cook, and you don’t try it, but did I complain? Even if I do want you to try them? I try to keep planting at minimum because I know that you’ll give me an earful. I picked up fishing and you complain, and that activity doesn’t even involve this house!”

“I…” Lana looked away. “I didn’t even know…It smells unpleasant, okay? I was thinking it’d affect the plasma packs so, I threw it away. We can get it again; we can arrange a fishing tri – ”

Lenora groaned, “You’re complaining again, Lana. Forget this, I’m retiring to my room!”

At least it wasn’t because her sister was starting to suspect her activities…

Lenora sighed. This is the first time she’d felt full and trembling with emotions. She felt angry, she felt crossed, mad, she felt like she wanted to drag her sister and throw her against that skyscraper. She shook her head.

Maybe hibernation would do her good tonight.

#lady lana beau #lady lenora beau #valentina asvang #percival asvang #lavender lee #Beneath #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 #ts4 story #simblr #there was a task to check out the caster's alley but it disappeared #oh well #they “sleep” at night to regulate their body clock to fit with the mortals but honestly they don't have to unless necessary #they can go on months without hibernating #they try not to do large activities at night to keep mortals knowing lol #can't be said to percy tho #he likes clubbing

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amaurotine-daydreaming · 1 year ago

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XX. Hamper

Stacia shook her head. “You’re bloody stubborn, just like Leofard.” A hint of a sly smile tugged at her lips. “Small wonder he’s got a soft spot for you.”

Leofard Myste had never fancied sharing his chambers on a full time basis, but he decided he could do worse than Cait Sith.

Since Dun Scaith, the errant familiar had begun to spend most of his time in Leofard’s company. While Leofard remained grounded, his arm still healing, and bored out of his mind, Cait Sith had taken up a vigil of sorts, gazing at the extravagant map on the wall or burying his face in one of the tomes on Leofard’s desk, his face unreasonably close to the pages for someone with such uncannily large eyeballs.

Neither of them commented on the arrangement; they simply settled into it.

So it was strange, when Leofard opened his eyes, to not see Cait Sith anywhere.

“Oi, puss!” Leofard called. He swung his legs down from the table and grunted as he got to his feet–Hells, he was stiff. He exited his chambers and walked to the front door, rolling his neck and shoulders as he went and ignoring the twinge of protest from his injury. It was fainter with each passing day, at least.

Stepping outside, Leofard cast his gaze about the Parrock, his tinted goggles shielding his eyes from the worst of the transition from shadowy corridor to sunny glare. “Oi, puss!” he called again, then muttered, “Where’d that furball go?”

“Oi, Captain,” a voice echoed peevishly. Stacia was at the bottom of the steps, hands on her hips. “About time you showed your face.” Leofard plastered on his best smile. Shite. “Stacia! What can I do for you, lass.”

Stacia eyed him. “Cook’s tellin’ me you’re shirkin’ chores again.”

“Can’t say I reckon what you mean.”

“What I mean is: Get your bloody clothes off the line afore I toss them into the Clouds! You ain’t the only one wantin’ to wear clean clothes around here!”

Leofard leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. Neither move was particularly smooth with his arm and shoulder still on the mend. “If you’re in such a bloody rush, take ‘em down yourself.”

“Bugger that! I know full well your arm’s healed enough to at least get ‘em in a basket, and I told you before, I ain’t your godsdamned nursemaid!”

“Aye, well, you sure act like a mother hen.”

Stacia pointed two fingers at her eyes and then back at him. “Five minutes. Then I’m tossin’ them, mark my words.”

Leofard snorted. “Aye, aye, all right. Gods below….”

“Allow me to assist you, Captain.” And there was Cait Sith, trotting up the path.

“Oh no. No no no,” Stacia said, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t give him an out. You start doin’ the Captain’s chores, he’s liable to start manipulatin’ you into doin’ them all the time.”

“Hey, you heard the furball,” Leofard said, pushing off from the door frame and sauntering down the steps. “He wants to help, I say we let him.”

Cait Sith blinked at Stacia serenely. “I assure you that menial tasks will be worlds more interesting than walking the same desolate halls for millenia.” When Stacia pursed her lips, he added, “I will be sure to remind the Captain not to neglect his own duties once he is fully fit for them.”

Stacia shook her head. “You’re bloody stubborn, just like Leofard.” A hint of a sly smile tugged at her lips. “Small wonder he’s got a soft spot for you.”

“Oi!” Leofard protested. “Who asked for your opinion!”

Stacia started back down the path. “Clock’s ticking, Leofard,” she called over her shoulder.

Leofard blew his bangs out of his face in one short, melodramatic sigh. “Well, puss, you heard her. Off we get.”

A patchwork of rusted, hammered scrap welded to wooden boards made up the path connecting the Redbills’ compact quarters to its equally small neighboring island. They had learned to make good use of such a limited space, Cait Sith observed. This tiny connected island was where the Redbills had set up a tower for water collection, stashed extra crates of supplies, and hung up a clothesline. It was also a place to gather around the campfire for a meal under the stars, and for the cook to have space to work.

Leofard pinched the corner of one of the shirts pinned to the line, then lifted it to his nose. Cait Sith didn’t need to mimic his touch or his sniff to know that the clothing was suitably dry and, for a mercy, not saturated with the smell of the meat that often wafted over from the cook’s open fire. The wind had favored them this day.

As Leofard removed the first pair of clothespins, Cait Sith stood just underneath the line, paws carefully gripping the hem so that the garment wouldn’t be cast away on the breeze or snagged by his claws.

“You know, puss, you didn’t have to volunteer.”

One of Cait Sith’s ears flicked. Leofard sounded nonchalant, but his voice was quiet in a way that signaled he was disinclined to be overheard.

“I seek to earn my keep, Captain,” was Cait Sith’s simple reply. With a small tug he slid the unpinned shirt from the line and set about neatly folding it in his small paws.

“There’s more to it than that, or so I hear from Stacia.”

Cait Sith blinked his huge eyeballs up at him.

Leofard shrugged, and Cait Sith didn’t miss the small wince that then accompanied the gesture. Despite Stacia’s correct assessment that Leofard’s healing was coming along well, it was clear the injury still discomforted him.

“Aye, she’s suddenly got a penchant for jibber-jabberin’,” Leofard said. Once Cait Sith laid the folded shirt in the hamper, they moved on together–Leofard unpinning each garment, Cait Sith tugging it down and folding it.

“At any rate,” Leofard continued, “didn’t I say it was my choice? That means I don’t see you as owin’ me a damn thing. Plus, you’re a Redbill now–When I invite someone onto my crew, I’m lookin’ for an equal, not a servant.”

“I understand such a thing in theory,” said Cait Sith, after a pause. “Yet, ‘tis strange for a familiar to not be serving in at least some capacity.”

“If you’re hellsbent on doin’ something for him,” came Stacia’s voice; she was setting down a crate nearby, “you could patch him up a bit. He’s bloody miserable when he’s grounded, so speedin’ up his recovery would be a good way to balance the books.”

She pressed her hands into her back and stretched. “It would at least mean he didn’t have an excuse to keep fobbin’ off chores, even if the new Raimille ain’t close to finished yet.”

“No bloody respect for a captain these days,” Leofard complained.

“Alas, my master did not bestow any knowledge of the healing arts upon me, else I would have offered,” Cait Sith said, adding a pair of meticulously folded smallclothes to the hamper. “With the Amdapori and the Nymians as sworn enemies, the idea would have been anathema. Even if it had not been, Cessair was strictly versed in the thaumaturgical arts.”

Stacia shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Will you quit yer hoverin’?” Leofard complained again, though–like most of the bickering that went on between him and Stacia–Cait Sith knew it lacked bite. “I’m doin’ the work, what else do you want?”

“I’ll have you know I’m gettin’ this stuff for Cook,” Stacia said. As she walked past to fetch the next crate, she paused and looked down at Cait Sith and the growing stack of clothes in the hamper.

“I’m impressed,” she said, eyebrows arched. “You fold clothes a damn sight better than just about any Redbill, especially Leofard.”

Leofard shook his head. “What does it matter when I’ll just be wearin’ ‘em the next day?”

“I simply like a job well done,” Cait Sith replied at the same time.

Stacia just waved and headed back up the path. Under a quarter-bell later, Leofard and Cait Sith had taken the last piece down from the line.

“Try not to get too much fur on my clothes, eh, puss?” Leofard grinned.

“I beg your pardon,” said Cait Sith, offended. Their task done, he had perched himself on Leofard’s shoulder and now stood at his full height of around two fulms. “I am meticulous about hygiene, and I maintain a very particular grooming regimen.” He licked his paw and rubbed it behind his ear pointedly.

Leofard laughed. “Aye, certainly more particular than some of our own. But a furball’s a furball.” He plucked a stray bit of cat hair from his sleeve and let it be carried away by the breeze. “Just glad I ain’t allergic.”

Stacia was coming down the path again with another crate in her arms. “Oi!” Leofard called to her. “Me and the puss are headin’ in, and the one of us who has two workin’ arms is too scrawny to carry the hamper.”

Cait Sith’s tail lashed, thudding against Leofard’s shoulder blade, but a gentle scritch under his chin from Leofard and he begrudgingly settled. He wanted to protest the ignominy of being petted like some run-of-the-mill housecat, and yet…it did feel quite nice.

“Fine, but only because you’re still on the mend,” Stacia was saying as she glanced down at the crate in her arms. “I’ll have it along after I’m done speaking with Cook.”

“Thank you, Stacia,” said Cait Sith. He inclined his head politely. “You will find it at the base of the tree that marks the midpoint of the clothesline.”

True to his word, the hamper was exactly where Cait Sith said it would be. More than that, the puss had thought to place a stone atop the pile of clothes so that nothing would blow away while it was unattended. Stacia put aside the stone, swept away the little bit of dirt it left behind (though it was clear the rock had been brushed clean by a paw beforehand) and hauled the hamper up the stairs and inside. She had to admit, Cait Sith had some savvy.

With her hands full, Stacia simply shouldered her way into Leofard’s chambers rather than knocking.

“Delivery,” she began to deadpan, but stopped short.

There was Leofard, his feet up on the table, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open, fast asleep. Curled between his neck and shoulder was Cait Sith, also sleeping soundly–or maybe just pretending to be, Stacia thought with a smirk, spotting the slightest twitch of his whiskers and flutter of his eyelids. Probably far too embarrassed to be caught snuggling up.

Either way, it was far too endearing a scene to disturb. And so Stacia shimmied into the cramped room as quietly as possible, set the hamper down, and slipped away with her fingers pressed to her lips to hold back her laughter.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv writing #leofard myste #cait sith #this was originally part of #ffxivwrite2023 #now that I'm no longer terribly ill I'm able to finish the last of these

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rainbowcaleb · 1 year ago

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3, 19, 14 for the fic writer asks!

ooh many! (from the list here)

3. What's your favorite fic that you've written?

Cheater's answer is my as-of-yet unpublished ending to Fourth Corner. (sorry, sorry) But honestly the only fic I've actually re-read by choice (and not for editing reasons) is my spicy Patience, which to this day is the only fic I've gotten direct DM'd compliments on XD

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as a comic or a film, which fic would you pick?

I think it would be unhingedly delightful to see the giant bug fight from Fourth Corner animated, as a fight scene is so cinematic. Also Catfe comics would make me weep fr. That would be such a cozy comic book to read.

19. Give us a small teaser from your WIPs.

Let's do a recent one! My luciessek monster length fic is very unpublished but I love my terrible sons so much.

Essek’s meager concentration was broken with a heavy weight across his shoulders. He had spent all day attempting to find a clean corner amongst the chaos before giving up and floating over the questionably stained cot. Light, he can’t believe he had slept on that before. Finding what he wanted amongst this latest batch of tomes was just as insufferable of a task. He was so close, so close, to a breakthrough. All knowledge was hard won, some a bloodstained trophy, but Essek knew it would be worth it. It had to be.

And then Lucien fucking Tavelle had to drape himself across his floating body and knock him half out of the air and fully out of his thoughts.

“Play a game with me Essek.” He spoke in that dangerous purr, voice rumbling against Essek’s back.

“You want something.” He replied matter of fact. With Lucien, it often was the case.

“That isn’t the game, darling.” Lucien stepped aside but didn’t let go of Essek, leaning to whisper in his ear. “Good news or bad news. I’ll let you pick.”

“How magnanimous.” Essek knew this push and pull, the familiarity like muscle memory of dance steps. He tilted his head away, wanting to make Lucien work for it. “Start with the bad news, Lucien, out with it.”

“Always the same answer, tsk. We have a leak.”

There was no way Lucien, as wrapped over Essek as he was, didn’t feel the sharp and immediate tensing of his shoulders.

“And you are sure, how?”

“Call it divine intuition.” Lucien’s teeth were on Essek’s neck now, teasing between words.

“There is nothing divine about you.” Essek snapped back. This was catastrophic, why wasn’t Lucien out there right now, predator to this prey? What they were doing could never be made public.

“That’s the joke, darling.” Hands trailed up Essek’s back, a little bit of claw to their gentle touch. Lucien dug his fingers into Essek’s shoulders; a massage and a reminder.

#fic writer asks #luciessek #if lucien/essek has 1000 fans i am one. etc. etc. if they have one fan IT IS ME #lucien tavelle #essek thelyss #critical role fic #critical role fanfic #wips #my fic #PLEASE ASK ME MORE heehee

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sacred-stanning · 9 months ago

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Chapter 19 Part 8: I've got too much stuff already!

After chasing off the remnants of Grado's army and Riev, everyone goes and checks on Rausten's Sacred Stone.

"This is the Sacred Stone passed down through Rausten's generations...

Its radiance matches my own!"

Everyone resolves to go to the Dark Woods where they expect to find Riev and the Demon King. Myrrh tells them that it is the place where long ago the Demon King was defeated.

Mansel is sad to see L'Arachel leave so soon after she got back home, but she reminds him that defeating evil is her duty as a Holy Princess.

(And I've always thought it was funny that Mansel doesn't seem very worried for L'Arachel's safety. It seems more like he's lonely about her galloping off to fight evil. The poor guy just wants a buddy to hang out in the castle with!)

"Once we have defeated evil, I promise we all will return!"

And Mansel gives us another pair of Sacred Twins. One is Ivaldi, a Light Tome, and the other is Latona, a staff.

Here's Ivaldi. It has 10 weight, which is ok, 17 might, which is pretty good, and 90 accuracy, which is quite nice. It also adds 5 defense to the user.

Of course, I don't have anyone who can actually use it. Moulder is my only active light magic user, and his tome rank is still only C.

Here's the Latona Staff. It...has no description of what it does.

But what it does is, it fully restores the HP of everyone, and cures any status effects that any of them have.

L'Arachel wonders out loud if it's really okay for them to take the legendary Latona Staff with them. Mansel agrees that, yes, it is prohibited to take it out of the castle, but the potential end of the world is special enough a circumstance that an exception can be made.

He does make us promise to bring it back though!

And after all that, it turns out that enough green units stayed alive that I receive an item from them as thanks. It's the Light Brand, which is a magic sword with 1-2 range.

...but, my convoy is totally full, and the Light Brand seems less useful than any of the items in Ephraim's inventory, so with regrets, I have to toss it.

(And yes, Reginlief is very broken, but I also still have a Hammerne Staff that can repair it.)

And we're off to the Dark Woods! Another map with a huge deployment limit, so everyone will get to come along!

The battle finished as suddenly as it had started.

Lute had just left the castle library and was starting to look for Syrene when she had heard the shouting. Before she knew what was going on, Seth had come running down the hall announcing to everyone to get ready for a battle.

Now that the battle was done, Lute was feeling annoyed by the unexpected interruption. One part of her felt silly for being annoyed. After all, they had just gotten through an unexpected invasion of the castle. If anything, she should be feeling relief. But Lute also didn't like being interrupted when she had a task to complete, and right now, she had two very important tasks.

1: Talk to Syrene. Make sure that she isn't upset at me and maybe get advice for how to ask Vanessa [content of step #2]. 2: Talk to Vanessa and find out how she feels about me.

Lute hurried through the halls after securing her horse for the remainder of the night. Seth had told them all that, in recognition of how tired everyone was, they would not be immediately pursuing their enemies into the Dark Woods, aside from a handful of scouts. So they still had the remainder of the night before they had to depart the castle.

Lute had seen Syrene leading Tana to a room that was being used for healing the injured. Tana had pushed out ahead during the assault on the enemy commander, and she had been hurt pretty badly.

"Syrene is a knight of Frelia, and Tana is the princess of Frelia, so surely Syrene will be tending to Tana now," she thought to herself.

Lute turned a corner and arrived at the door to the temporary infirmary. She saw Syrene standing outside, leaning on her lance, with her head turned down.

"Syrene" Lute said, to get Syrene's attention.

Syrene looked up. Something about her face looked different...

"She's looks upset" Lute realized. Lute wasn't sure how to react. Syrene's expression was distraught.

"Oh, Lute! I'm sorry, are you here to see me? Princess Tana..."

Syrene sighed and stood up straighter. "I...I can't believe she went out in front like that! We almost lost her!"

Lute tried to think of what to say. She thought to herself, "Syrene is clearly upset. I should do something to make her feel less upset. Maybe there is some way I can help..."

Lute thought of something. She had been in such a hurry to search for Syrene that she had come without putting down any of her equipment, and she had her healing staff with her.

Lute took the staff from the sling over her shoulder. "I am not as experienced as Moulder, but I can help to heal her."

Syrene smiled weakly. "Thanks, Lute. But she's already been healed up and is resting now. I appreciate the thought though."

"Oh. You had a very despondent look on your face, so I thought that Princess Tana was still hurt." Lute spoke, but then she wondered if that was the right thing to say. "Perhaps I misjudged your expression?"

Syrene shook her head. "No, sorry if I made you worry more. I'm just upset because I should have been there to protect her. I'm a captain of the Pegasus Knights. Protecting Princess Tana, especially when she flies with us, is one of the most important duties I have. I feel like I failed her, like I failed Frelia!"

Lute shifted her weight from one foot to the other and grasped the heal staff with both of her hands. She recognized this situation. She needed to reassure Syrene somehow. But she was never sure how to do that. She had figured out a while back that giving too much advice didn't usually seem to work. Maybe there was something else she could offer to do? Syrene seemed to be upset about her inability to protect Princess Tana, so maybe she could address that insecurity with the facts of the situation...

"I do not think it is accurate to say that you have failed Frelia," Lute started to speak. "You cannot control what Princess Tana does. Furthermore, I have seen you fight in two battles now, and while I am no expert on the mechanics of flying a Pegasus, I have been observing Vanessa for a while now, and I can tell that you are extremely skilled. So I am sure that your efforts in the battle contributed to Princess Tana's safety. In the end, she is still here, so that is one measure of success."

Lute felt awkward trying to reassure Syrene, so she had said all of this without really looking at her face, in order to not to get distracted. Now that she was finished, she looked up. Syrene was smiling.

"Thank you, Lute" she said and then paused, as if considering how to word the next part. "I appreciate your honest assessment of the situation. And you're right that I'm being too hard on myself. I can't control everything that happens around me."

Syrene paused for a moment, then she seemed to realize something. "Oh, and thank you so much for your part in the battle! I heard that you were out in front, and that you took out the commander after he attacked Princess Tana! Really, I can't thank you enough for helping to keep her safe! All of Frelia is in your debt!"

Lute squeezed the staff in her hands harder and looked away again. "I was just doing what I was commanded to do. General Seth told me to move out front because of all the enemy mages. It was a reasonable strategy because the enemy mages' skills were no match for mine. I was never in any danger. I know all about magic." Lute felt uncomfortable at the sudden focus on what she had done in battle, but she spoke with confidence about her magical ability.

Syrene placed her right hand on her heart in a salute. "You're too modest. Thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart.

"She seems to be feeling a bit better," Lute thought. "Maybe I can ask her about Vanessa now..."

"Syrene?" Lute asked. "Were you upset at me when you thought that I had given Vanessa a Pegasus Pledge?"

Syrene's face betrayed her surprise at the abrupt topic change. "Upset? At you? No! No!" She shook her head as she spoke. "I was just surprised! ...And I guess I was upset at Vanessa for not saying anything to me! You didn't do anything wrong! I mean, you didn't even know about all of that!" She laughed, "It's a Frelian tradition, and you're not Frelian, so why would you? It was a silly assumption on my part!"

Lute thought about this. It was definitely true that people usually informed their family about marriage plans, so it made sense that Syrene would have been upset at Vanessa over that.

"I..." Lute started to continue, but felt embarrassed. "What if...in the future...what if I did perhaps...give Vanessa a Pegasus Pledge?"

Syrene's eyes opened wide. "Wait...so you do like my sister after all?"

Lute stared at the floor, at a spot where two tiles met, but a crack had developed. The conversation felt awkward, but she had made a decision! She had thought about it, and she knew for sure. She liked Vanessa! There was no turning back now.

Lute muttered quickly "I read in the book of Frelian customs about Hippolyta marriages, like you said I should, and I had not heard of something like this before in my own village, though I did recently hear about a similar arrangement from someone from the Ide area, which is very close to Frelia, so perhaps there has been some transmission of customs--It's not uncommon for regions near each other to share customs. And after I heard about this, I became interested in reading about social customs in different areas, and that is why I started to read about Frelia, though I did not admit to myself why I was interested at first, and it was only after you talked to me and told me to read about Pegasus Knights in the book that I thought about it really hard and analyzed my feelings. So, in conclusion, I have decided that I find Vanessa attractive in a romantic way. I would like to initiate...a relationship with her, but I was worried that maybe you did not approve of me because I have found in the past that many people do not understand me well, and also I am not from Frelia, so I do not know if I fit into your traditions."

Syrene stared at Lute for a moment. It was her turn to feel unsure of how to respond. Lute had just rushed through a whole lot of information in a mumbled tone.

"Have you...told Vanessa?" Syrene finally asked.

"Not yet. I wanted to confirm that you did not disapprove of me first because I was worried that you would tell Vanessa not to interact with me anymore."

"Oh, Lute, I'm so sorry!" Syrene suddenly moved forward and put her hands over Lute's, which were still grasped around the staff that she had been idly holding the whole time. "I didn't realize that I had given you such a harsh impression! But here's the thing, Vanessa is my sister, and I'll always look out for her and give her my opinion, but you don't need to get my permission to talk to her! I promise you, I'm not some sort of over-bearing family member like that!"

Syrene hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Is that what Vanessa says about me? Does she think I'm over-bearing?" She looked suddenly very uncomfortable.

Lute didn't quite process what Syrene had said at first, but she turned the statement over in her head for a bit. "Oh...no. Vanessa did not tell me that you were over-bearing." She paused. Syrene looked visibly relieved at what she had said. Lute then continued, "I apologize for making you worry about what Vanessa thinks of you. I came to the conclusion that you might not approve of me on my own. This is due to the fact that I am not a pegasus knight, and I cannot even ride a pegasus, so I am not sure if I am an appropriate partner for Vanessa..."

Syrene's relieved expression turned to a concerned one while Lute was speaking. "Well, I'm glad to hear that Vanessa isn't calling me over-bearing. But Lute, whether or not you're a good partner for Vanessa has nothing to do with riding a pegasus!"

"But..." Lute spoke uncertainly. "Is it not a requirement that the two members of a Hippolyta marriage both can ride each other's pegasi?"

Syrene snorted. "Ha! Yeah, that's the ideal, I suppose. That sounds like how people describe the ceremony when they talk about it. But realistically? People fall in love with who they fall in love with." She shrugged as she said this. "I've known knights who married non-knights. One of the older commanders when I was just starting out as a new recruit had a wife who had been a tailor. She lived in the barracks with all of us, and she kept our gear repaired."

Syrene smirked and continued her story, "The way I heard it, for the ceremony, she got on the commander's pegasus and nudged it to step forward one step, and since she didn't get thrown off, that was good enough!" Syrene laughed. "But it's just a ceremony. In the end, knights with Hippolyta wives do the same thing as the knights who bring their husbands along. They find a way to integrate them into the barracks life."

"At any rate, you're getting ahead of yourself talking about marriage. You haven't even told my sister how you feel yet." She paused and thought for a moment. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm guessing that you've never been in a relationship before?"

"I have been in many types of relationships before," Lute responded.

Syrene chuckled slightly, "Sorry, I should have been more specific. Have you been in a romantic relationship before?"

"No." Lute shook her head.

"Ok, well, if you don't mind, I'm going to be an older sister to you too for a moment. You need to tell Vanessa how you feel, not me. I've never heard her speak a word about romance before, so even though I'm her sister, I have no idea how she'll react, but it sounds like you gave this a lot of thought, and you really mean it." Syrene smiled, "Just tell her how you feel."

Lute nodded silently. Syrene's statement, "I have no idea how she'll react", had concerned her. While Lute had considered the fact that she didn't know Vanessa's feeling towards her, she hadn't yet thought about what she would do after asking Vanessa, especially if Vanessa did not share the same feelings.

Lute decided that she needed to think about her strategy for the next step. She looked up at Syrene's face again and said, "Thank you, Syrene. I appreciate that you have listened to me. I have a lot to consider." Then she turned and walked off to find somewhere where she could be left alone.

Syrene watched Lute walk off. What a strange character she was! Syrene wasn't entirely sure what to think of her, but she had seen how happy Vanessa seemed to be around her, and that was something she was very glad to see. "I wonder if Vanny is a Hippolyta too?" she thought to herself. "To be honest, that wouldn't entirely surprise me."

Next time: Party in the woods

#fire emblem #sacred stones #fire emblem the sacred stones #fe8 #ファイアエンブレム #聖魔の光石 #lute fire emblem #lute x vanessa #vanessa fire emblem #syrene fire emblem

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kimothyroll · 1 year ago

Text

Day 6

Day total: +6 Practical, -1 Theoretical

Six of Wands

I made sure to get enough sleep last night and I approach the day with renewed energy! Clearly this paid off because we're back to duel practice and I smash it out of the park, leaving my classmates in awe of my techniques. Whilst I get lots of compliment, there's also a fair few comments about #coffeegate- all said in jest of course, I do rather like my classmates and their playful banter.

+2 Practical

Two of Pentacles

Carrying on my theme of taking on more than I can handle, whilst refusing to accept that fact, when we are give 2 tasks in class, I attempt to redeem the previous setbacks by tackling both projects simultaneously.

It's a mixed outcome. One project succeeds, reflecting my resilience and capacity for learning from mistakes. However, the other project suffers, underscoring the inherent challenge of juggling multiple ambitious endeavors. This experience serves as a personal lesson, once again highlighting the need to recognise and manage my limitations, and stressing the importance of strategic decision-making and focused effort for future undertakings. I'm not sure it's a lesson that will stick, but at least I got one task done!

+1 Practical, -1 Theoretical

The World

We have a bit of a break after this and I take the opportunity to grab Celestia and go explore. We initially head towards the hidden path, but are distracted by the numerous tapestries hanging up around the court. One in particular catches our eye. There's something a little off with the depicted door. Further investigation leads to a concealed chamber which opens up into a (rather dusty) forgotten library. Ancient tomes and forgotten scrolls line the shelves, that contain spells and knowledge, long overlooked.

+2 Practical

The Chariot

Among these ancient texts, we uncover a spell thought to be lost to time—an enchantment that promises to unveil hidden truths within the enchanted walls if we can 'prove ourselves worthy.' Determined to figure out what this means, we set about unravelling the complex magical puzzle. One book leads to another, bringing us closer and closer to figuring out the answer. Though we're not quite there yet and have run out of time for now, I can't describe the sense of accomplishment and level of excitement we both feel. The shared desire to continue our exploration of the hidden facets of the school further deepens the bond we already had. I love this girl

+2 Practical

Nine of Swords

We're back to barrier creation. I suppose that we have to learn to defend ourselves before being really effective in a fight. Inspired by Dean Windraven's shield charm (thank goodness he has that activated at all times, I can only imagine the trouble if the coffee had actually gone on him) I decide to work on a passive shield spell, one that wouldn't take concentration away from the dueller, and would allow them to focus on attacking. I need to tweak it because it still requires too much focus, but I'm happy with my progress.

+1 Practical

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gnocchighoul · 5 years ago

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Hmm.. kind of a random thing but that's how my brain works sometimes but hear me out! The Bros (plus undatables and Luke if you want) get turned into cats. What type of cat would they be, how would mc react, and how would they react to being a cat.

I had SO much fun writing this one. Thank you for this excellent prompt 💗

This is just the demon bros getting turned into cats, but I might make a part two with the undateables! :D

Lucifer

Oh he’s going to be so pissed off.

Seriously, even as a cat, his murder-death-murder-death stare is beyond intense. He will sit himself high up on furniture to glare down on everyone like the prettiest gargoyle you’ve ever seen.

Nobody is allowed to come near him. He will swat and hiss at anyone and everyone who approaches, unless they are approaching to turn him back into a demon.

BUT if you had nothing to do with this curse that’s fallen upon him, then he’ll probably let you near, as long as you’re not like, weird about it. Seriously, don’t baby talk at him, he’s not actually a cat.

Cat-Lucifer will probably just want to constantly stand on your shoulders and wrap his tail around your neck, which isn’t super comfortable because he’s not exactly small and dainty.

Also, every time you say something stupid he’s gonna bite your ear lol

Tbh he’s probably going to make you carry him everywhere like that and he’s gonna control where you go -- you know, kinda like ratatouille LMAO

Mammon

You know those cats that climb literally everything and anything?

Yeah.

When he first gets turned into a cat, he freaks the fuck out. But when he finally calms down and isn’t meowing up an angry storm, he’s gonna realize that this is a great opportunity. for evil.

He's gonna book it the second he realizes that he can literally be a cat-thief.

Nothing is safe from his grabby little gremlin paws.

He steals so much shit (wallets, Asmo’s jewelry, Levi’s limited edition collectors items--anything he can carry in his mouth or drag around) and then he stashes it all in your room, because unfortunately, becoming a cat didn’t make him any smarter.

Lucifer tasks you with just sitting in your room and keeping track of everything cat-Mams steals so that you can return everything to their rightful owners.

You quickly become used to cat-Mams sauntering in and out of your room every five minutes with his newfound riches.

So it’s a bit concerning when Mams darts out of your room after stashing a wallet in his hoard, and doesn’t come back after thirty minutes.

Naturally, you go looking for him.

You’ve only been searching for about twenty minutes, when pathetic meowing reaches your ears. You follow the sound, and--

You find him stuck in a cardboard box.

(before fishing him out, you take tons of pictures. He’s very upset.)

Levi

Levi is so distraught. He’s literally going to just wail and roll around on the floor until somebody picks him up.

He’s literally the crying cat meme.

Once he’s in your arms, do not put him down. He’s very sad and his reflexes really aren’t good. You know how you can just kinda toss cats onto the floor and they’ll land on their feet just fine?

He will not.

Is suuuuper jumpy and only trusts you (and maybe Beel, but he’s lowkey afraid that Beel is going to eat him.)

You should probably get him one of those bubble back-packs that cats can sit in and carry him around in that.

He has the worst time as a cat. He just wants to play his video games :(

(But if you give him lots of smooches, it’ll make his suffering a little bit easier to deal with. But like, he’s gonna turn into an overwhelmed ragdoll when u start giving him the smooches)

Satan

Honestly? He isn’t that opposed to being a cat for a little while.

But he’s also like. So hyperactive. Goes from 0-1000 in half a second.

He’s got the zoomies.

He’s gonna parkour his way around the house of lamentation, testing how fast he can zoom, how high and far he can jump (and how far he can fall without hurting himself)

He’s gonna do a backflip off lucifer at the speed of light and then sprint away as fast as he can to go wreck some shit

If you want to hold him, you’re going to have to catch him mid-air. If he doesn’t just squirm out of your arms and actually lets you pet him, he’s gonna stare you dead in the eyes, extend his claws, and then pat your leg with his lil toe beans.

You’re not entirely sure if that means ‘keep petting me’ or ‘stop it right now’ so you just kinda scratch his ears instead

Asmo

Even as a cat he’s beautiful and everybody has to see just how pretty he is.

He’s constantly striking poses.

Looking back over his shoulder. Stretching his leggies out so you can see how long and lean they are. Contorting his body in the WEIRDEST ways because he’s even more flexible now.

He does not run anywhere, he struts very daintily and model-like.

He’s gonna be so affectionate. Constantly rubbing his cheeks all over you, and leaning against you, but be careful while you give him pets because if you mess up his fur he’s gonna swat your hands away.

He’s also definitely going to be really annoying and constantly walk in front of your feet and trip you up. Where are you going, why aren’t you admiring him, dammit

You know how most cats hate water?

Not asmo.

He’s gonna make you fill the bathtub up to his chin so he can float around on his tiptoes with just the upper half of his head out of the water like a crocodile.

Then you have to blow-dry him until he’s all nice and fluffy and give him a good brush.

He will absolutely tolerate you dressing him up and taking pictures as long as you make him look nice. He won’t allow you to put him in stupid costumes (he’s gonna bite you when you bust out a lobster costume) but a pearl necklace? Hell yeah.

Beel

Feed him dammit, he’s starving.

Cat-Beel is going to gnaw on EVERYTHING. Furniture. Books. Clothes. Your hands and ankles.

It’s not anxiety -- honestly he really doesn’t mind being a cat -- he’s just so hungy.

Also he’s MASSIVE.

You don’t actually know that he’s been turned into a cat until you go to the kitchen for a snack and find an orange & white cat the size of a literal child raiding the fridge.

Which brings me to my next point -- he’s gonna be SUCH a snuggle bug. Like those really big dogs that insist on sitting in your lap and crushing you. If he isn’t eating then he just wants to flop on top of you and crush you with his love.

You can baby-talk at him if you want, as long as you give him treats and snuggle him.

He purrs so. Much.

Will also let u just roll him around and do whatever you want to him dkjncdsn he’s honestly the chillest out of them all

Belphie

God he’s so fucking upset at first, like claws out, hissing and spitting at everyone, full on tantruming upset, BUT THEN. but then. You pick him up and press a kiss to his sweet little triangle head and he bleps and it's all over.

Good luck getting anything done. Cat-Belphie is going to demand your full attention for snuggles CONSTANTLY.

No, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to research ways to turn him back, he’s gonna plop his little butt on the tome you’re attempting to read until you give him love, dammit.

Honestly, Belphie being a cat isn’t that much different from normal. The biggest difference is that now he can squeeze into weirder places to nap, which makes it very difficult to keep track of him.

After searching for two fucking hours, you, Satan, Levi, and Beel find him stretched out across the arms of one of the chandeliers in the dining room, like it’s some kind of weird hammock.

He’s fast asleep. Nobody knows how he got up there.

(To get down, he ends up yeeting himself into Beel’s arms.)

If Bells isn’t napping, then he’s hiding under furniture, waiting for his next victim to walk by so he can attack their ankles.

(also the most likely to bite u when he wants your attention)

((part 2 with the undateables))

#obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me #gnocchicanons

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mysticalrambling · 4 years ago

Text

Love Conquers All (The Originals)

Part 10

Part 10/10

(Y/N) means your name and (Y/LN) means your last name.

Warnings: none. Angst and fluff all the way.

Summary: Dad!Klaus. (Y/N) finds out that you are pregnant and runs away from Klaus. After five years of avoiding him, Freya discovers your secret and it will all be revealed in time. At last, love will conquer all.

._._._._.

Today was the day that the plan would be put in to action and to say the least, you were on edge. To put a cherry on top, Hope was being extremely difficult. Miss Hope thought that she was a big girl now and can pick out her own clothes. The rustic orange t shirt with an emerald skirt was the best outfit that she could come up with. However, the only problem was that you couldn’t let your daughter roam around wearing that monstrosity.

“Hope Andrea Mikaelson, listen to your mother!” Klaus knew that you were already stressed out and was on the verge of crying. You all stood in shock the moment those words left his lips.

“Mikaelson is not my last name.”Taking her elephant dummy out, she voiced her confusion. You knew that you sometimes had to tell her that she was a Mikaelson. Sure, she knew that Klaus was her dad but she didn’t know the depths of that sentence.

“Hope, your dad’s last name is Mikaelson and he would really like you to take it as your last name.”You gently rocked the little girl in your arms and tears welled up when you realised she will outgrow your arms in just a few years. She was getting so big and you didn’t know how you felt about that.

“I am okay with it if you also change your name.”

“I don’t thin-” “She would love to.” Both of you spoke up at the same time and then looked at each other. You wanted to become his wife from the moment you met him but you didn’t know if things had changed. Maybe it was still the same. You bribed your child with some chocolates and she wore the pastel pink dress that you had initially picked out for her.

The drive to Mystical Falls was uncomfortable to say the least. Hope’s voice was the only thing cutting the thick silence in the car and when she fell asleep in her booster seat, you just tuned in to the radio. Daliah was tracking Hope and you had to use your daughter as a bait. No one liked it but it was a necessity.

“You need to stay in this car with our daughter.”

“No way. I am coming with.” Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were going to open the car door but his hand stopped you mid movement. He made a valid point when he tells you that Hope could not be left unprotected.

Davina and Freya were already there and were quietly preparing for the ritual. Klaus knew that there was roughly twenty minutes to set the plan into motion before Aunt Daliah arrives. At the last moment, Kol went with Elijah because Hope got sick again and she only wanted to cuddle with her dad. You protested, saying that she was being spoiled and it would not end well for anyone. Safe to say, everyone ignored you. Now both of the brothers were on their way with the knife.

“Who is ready to kill some family members?” Clapping his hands together, a devious grin appeared on his thin lips. If he was not careful, the old Klaus might just make an appearance. That might not be such a bad thing.

“I am. The only thing that you need to know is that I will yield the knife and-”

“But why do you get to do the most important part?” Klaus interjected as Freya got to explain a new part of the plan.

“Stop interrupting me for once. I will use the knife because only a witch can activate it and you get to kill her.” Shaking her head, she continued,”Elijah and Kol will hold her down and you would simply finish the job.”

“And what about your two minions?”Nudging his head in to the direction, Klaus scrutinized them under a smug look.

“They are going to make sure that our beloved aunt does not get out of this circle. She will be weak inside it and we will have enough time to finish her off, for good this time.”

Meanwhile, procuring the knife was not a difficult task for the Mikaelson men and they arrived at their final destination in no tome. Aunt Daliah followed suit and the moment she saw Klaus standing with a girl in the middle of the field, she peed walked towards them. She didn’t even realise that she was entering a circle.

“You are a foolish boy for inflicting the same pain on your daughter just like your parents once did." The moment she step foot in the circle, the small figure beside you disappeared. It was an illusion.

"Unlike you, he is not cruel." Freya showed up behind her and stabbed her worst nightmare in the back. Literally. "Klaus, now."

He quickly retracted his fangs but Daliah quickly regained some of her composure. She threw Freya out of the circle with a magical force and was knocked unconscious when her head hit a boulder. Kol and Elijah came into assist their brother but she quickly snapped their necks with a flick of her wrist.

Suddenly, you started to hear commotion and when you tuned in your hearing, you instantly knew everything was going wrong. Speed walking through the land, you instantly went to aid your boyfriend.

"Hurry up, guys. We can not keep her in the circle for much longer."Davina called out as they kept chanting with difficulty.

"The circle isn't helping much, love." He choked out as Daliah suspended you and Klaus in to the air. You struggled to breathe as your throat constricted in a painful manner. "Let's talk in a peaceful manner, please."

None of you noticed Hope sneaking from behind because she heard her parents voices in the car. Seeing the two most important people of her life, she didn't know what came over her. It was like something snapped.

"Leave my parents alone!" The little girl screamed as a magic blast erupted from her. Knocking her great aunt out of the circle, she released her parents from Daliah's death grip.

"Hope, get away from her. Right now!" You didn't care about anyone except your daughter. Klaus started to get up from his place to protect his little girl but he was too weak.

"It's okay, mommy. I just have to concentrate really hard." Hope reassured you and before you could protest, she started mumbling something.

Aunt Daliah started screaming incoherently as blood oozed from her eyes and nose. Both of you were horrified when you saw your daughter like this. No one could imagine an innocent girl like her could do something like this. Daliah started choking on her own blood and in a few seconds, her heart stopped beating.

"Hope." breathlessly, you didn't know what to say. All these years, you thought you were protecting her from all this. But this was a part of her and she had to embrace it as well.

She slowly approached you and Klaus and you softly embraced her. "I am so proud of you, baby."

"You are my daughter, for sure." Laughing wholeheartedly, Klaus took you both in his arms. "Now, lets go home. My siblings will find their way home by night.'

"Stop it. Help me load them in the car." Finally, this was all over and now you can focus on your family. This was your time to be happy and nothing could change that. No one will ruin it this time. It was a promise. Always and Forever.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

A/N : There will be an epilogue but this series has comes to an end. Really enjoyed writing this. When I first came up with the plot I really didn’t wasn't sure if I wanted to complete it. Thank you to each one of you for giving your love and support to this series. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

If you want to send blurb requests based on the series (dad!Klaus) I'm more than eager to write so send me your ideas. I would love it❤️

._._._._._.

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gardenergulfie · 3 years ago

Text

Emptober Day 6: Struggle

Rating: G

Word Count: 2639

Relationships: Geminitay & MythicalSausage

Characters: GeminiTay (Video Blogging RPF), MythicalSausage (Video Blogging RPF)

Tags: Mage Sibs, Post Corruption Mythical Sausage, Magic, Jealousy, When you swear off dark magic but also have a really hard time actually swearing off magic, plus one of your closest friends who killed you to save you is a mage, Sausage is not having a good day, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relapsing, Dark Magic

Sausage remembered nights spent with these very books, trying to learn to cast. There was this one spell about appearance altering that Kid Sausage had always wanted to cast. He found that spellbook quickly, its dark navy cover a familiar sensation in his hands. Now that he had magic he really should try and cast him again, he’d just have to ask Xornoth-

Wait, no. Sausage didn’t do magic anymore. He’d sworn it off after being freed from Xornoth’s control. No matter how tempting it might be he wasn’t going back on his word. No more dark magic from Xornoth.

With no small amount of regret, he put the tome in the “Donate” pile. Some other more magically gifted kid would have a better use for it. Sausage continued to work, trying to keep his mind away from the thoughts of magic and spell casting. It was really hard, being in a tower filled with magic.

Emptober Day 6: Struggle

AO3 Link

Fic below the cut

It was a good day for Sausage. The feeling of heavy exhaustion that weighed on him constantly ever since he’d been revived was mercifully light today. It had been so light that he had felt good enough to visit Gem and help her with rearranging her tower library. She had a lot of books she didn’t ever read anymore so she was cleaning them out and donating them. She’d been a bit hesitant to ask him for help because of how recently he was revived and her worry of him overexerting himself but he’d convincer that he was fine! She’d been visiting him almost every day for the past week and seen his improvement herself. Besides, moving books around couldn’t be that hard. Gem chucked when he said that out-loud and said he would need to reevaluate that once he saw some of her tomes on the theory of magic.

He was at Gem’s tower now. He had ducked into the building right after arriving, not wanting to spend too much time around the outsides or in his own memory. Gem had greeted him cheerfully from where she was levitating books into two piles.

“Sausage! You made it!” She said, ending her spell and walking over to green him properly. She’d stopped infant of I’m, not sure what the right greeting was for a friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend. He solved that problem by giving her a big hug.

“Its good to see you too, Gem! I’m excited to get to work here! It’s been a while since I left Mythland.” He said excitedly. Gem extracted herself from his bone crushing hug.

“I’m really glad you could make it.” She said genuinely. Sausage felt the same hurt he’d get for most conversations with Gem over these past few days since his resurrection. He’d hurt her and yet here she was, having forgiven him and back to being his friend. It was bittersweet.

“Yeah! I’m excited to get to work here. Was getting restless being cooped up in my home. What should I start with?” Sausage asked as a distraction from his own thoughts. Gem tapped her chin, thinking for a bit.

“Well I need to go a reread my Astrology tones to see which ones I need to keep and which ones I can give away. While I do that, can you sort the tomes in the Illusion section via author? I only want to keep the ones by Mia L Kracklewisp. They’re the best Illusionist and honestly I really don’t use Illusion spells a lot so the other ones are just gathering dust.” Gem explained. Sausage nodded.

“Can do! Just watch, I’ll be done in no time.” He promised. Gem started walking over to a table with a large amount of books on it. She turned her head back to call out.

“If you need anything just ask! I’m just over here, turning my brain into jelly as I try and pick which Astrology books I want to keep out of a decades old collection. Why did I buy so many Astrology tomes?” She muttered to herself as she sat down.

Sausage got to work. It was easy finding the Illusion spell section, just follow the smell of citrus. Most illusionists added secret notes between the margins of their spell books in invisible ink and most of that ink was made with a lemon base. Sausage remembered when he was younger, holding pages up to candle light as he deciphered the hidden messages. He’d read most if not all of Gem’s magic related books in his youth. Sausage remembered nights spent with these very books, trying to learn to cast. There was this one spell about appearance altering that Kid Sausage had always wanted to cast. He found that spellbook quickly, its dark navy cover a familiar sensation in his hands. Now that he had magic he really should try and cast him again, he’d just have to ask Xornoth-

When he finished sorting, he set the books down on Gem’s table with a heavy thump. Gem looked up from the tome on Advanced Cosmology and Lunar Spell-casting she was skimming through and met Sausage’s eyes.

“That was rather fast.” She said, looking at the pile of Illusion spell books on the table. “I must not have that many Illusion tomes.”

“You actually have a pretty good library of them. Most of them are just written by that one author you like so I left them there.” Sausage didn’t mention the fact that he knew exactly what author she liked and that he admired the spellwork they did. Better not to think about magic right now.

“Huh.” Gem said, peeking over Sausage’s shoulder to see the other, much larger pile of books behind him. “Well you’ve finished that task. It’s getting close to midday and I need to finish skimming this book before lunch. You’re free to do whatever you like until then.” She paused before continuing. “I know we’re having goat meat wraps with a chorus fruit pudding. There’s more than enough for two, if you’d like to stay for that.”

“Oh free food? Yeah I’ll stay.” Sausage responded before his brain could fully catch up. He was given free rein of the library while Gem was busy reading and he was trying not to think about magic. This was a bad combination. Gem went back to her reading and Sausage started walking around. He wasn’t looking at the book titles, merely moving around as to distract himself better. It really wasn’t working. Sausage was seeing books labeled “Conjuring Cakes: a Guide to Summoning Edible Food” and “Moss, Lichens and Molds: the Most Fabulous Herbology spells” and “Boommaking: How to Crush Your Enemies with Explosive Magic” (he was pretty sure that last one was a gift from fWhip). He found himself grabbing interesting tomes as he went, ones that would be useful to Mythland or just plain fun for him. Reading them couldn’t hurt, he’d read most of them before. He just needed something to past the time.

Sausage curled up in an armchair with his pick of tomes on the table beside him. He quickly lost himself in the spellwork, reading about complicated equations and runes. It was all great stuff but very familiar. Sausage remembered spending hours with Gem reading these kinds of books while fWhip was out tinkering. The two of them would curl up together to read these thick tomes after school. They both would dream about magic and what they would do when they could cast.

Of course, only one of them got that ability in the end. Gem had been blessed and Sausage had been left behind, no spark of magic in him at all. While Gem trained under the greatest mages in the world, Sausage was stuck rereading the same books, knowing that he’d never be able to cast these spells. It had made him so angry and bitter then and he could feel those emotions rising up again. It wasn’t fair that Gem got lucky while Sausage didn’t. Sausage deserved that magic just as much as Gem did.

Sausage looked back down at the page he wad reading, the paper showing a spell of levitation, the same spell Gem had been using earlier. Sausage remembered how easy casting had been under Xornoth’s control. Even before he was fully taken over, Sausage had been given a book of dark magic that even someone with no inane magic ability could use. There had been a levitation spell in there too.

Sausage wasn’t supposed to cast anymore, he swore off magic, even going so far as to give Gem the Great Staff of Mythland, the one other thing that let Sausage use magic. He was powerless now because he had been corrupted by that power before. He knew he wasn’t supposed to use dark magic anymore but he just felt so angry now. One spell wouldn’t hurt. Just a simple dark magic spell, not even calling on Xornoth, a spell of his own power.

Sausage started mumbling the incantation under his breath. His blood felt warm, uncomfortably so, but the book in his hand began to rise. There was a sound, the sound of someone’s surprised shout, but Sausage hear it fully, too caught up in the magic. He laughed loudly in joy. He’d done it! The powerless Mythlander still could cast magic! He wasn’t even using Xornoth’s power, not really. Even with his blood burning, he still felt too much glee.

“-age! Sausage! SAUSAGE!” He turned around to see Gem, anger at her for interrupting him fading away when he saw her face. She was holding her staff in front of her, magic beginning to swirl around it, and her fave showed only fear. Fear that he’d lost it again, fear that the demon was back, fear that she’d have fight him again.

The force of his guilt hit Sausage in that moment and he dropped the spell. He’d done what he wasn’t supposed to. He’d used magic and scarred the one person who’d forgiven him, the person who killed him to save him. What had he done?

“Gem… I…” Sausage stuttered out, trying to explain himself before stopping. There was nothing he needed to explain, nothing that could excuse his actions. He’d broken his own rule of no magic and it was his own fault.

“I’m going to go outside.” He said, standing up. Gem’s eyes followed him as he walked to the door, only able to shake the fear away and call out after him when he was already outside. Sausage hoped onto the mountain popper and started walking through the snow. He avoided the hatchery, Gem certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere near it after the scene he’d just made. His boots crunched against the icy snow as he just walked. Eventually he grew weary and had to sit down, the exhaustion catching up tp him again. He sat there on a rock for a while, just feeling upset and mad at himself.

“Sausage?” Gem had finally found him, the faun wizard walking up to him. When he turned to face her she stopped, seeing his face. He hadn’t been crying but he was sure that he didn’t look great. The negative effects dark magic have on the body was surely not doing him any favors either. The two of them stood in silence for a bit, neither of them speaking or moving closer or farther away from the other.

“….what was that back there? You were just reading and then suddenly you were casting dark magic. Did the book do something to you? Was Xornoth controlling you again?” Gem asked hesitantly, still nervous to speak. Sausage took a deep breath in. Alright then, he would explain. She deserved an explanation.

“No Gem it won’t either of those things. It was just me.” He started. “I was just caught up in all the magic, all the things you can do that I can’t and I felt angry. I let that anger influence me into make a bad decision. I broke my promise. I said no magic and yet i still cast magic, even worse dark magic.” Sausage hung his head. “Its just so hard when I see you doing it so easily and I know that I can too if I just break my promise and give in.”

Gem listened to his admission, understanding crossing her face. “It must be hard, knowing that you can do it but not letting yourself. How long have you been holding that back? How long have you wanted to cast dark magic after you promised not too?” Gem asked, sitting down next to him. Sausage thought of the weeks since his revival, of the habitual casting of magic and only just managing to stop himself, the constant thoughts that everything would easier if he just let himself do magic, the childhood daydreams of him turning into a mage that he had repressed long ago returning in full force. Honestly it was a miracle that he hadn’t given into his urges before this and also that he’d been able to stop so easily.

“I’ve wanted to do magic forever, my whole life. When I finally could, I used it whenever I could. When I was cured, I promised that I wouldn’t do it anymore. But honestly, I still wanted to do it.” He explained. “There were so many moments where I barely managed to stop myself form using it! It’s been calling to me ever since I tried to give it up. Every day I go without it makes me want it more. And I know it’s bad, I know it has horrible side effects and could put me back under the control of Xornoth but even still I still want to use it!” Sausage’s voice raised as he grew heated about this. Gem listened, always nonjudgmental.

“It isn’t going to be easy to just stop using magic. There’s been stories of mages who start using it and can’t bring themselves to stop, not for long. But there have also been stories of mages who have been ale to give it up, this is something you can do Sausage. This bothers you, not being able to cast magic, and you feel like you can’t fight it. But you can!” Sausage watched as Gem spoke. Normally Gem talking about his struggles with magic and her encouraging him came off as bossy and made him upset, but he wasn’t upset now. It seemed that Gem really wanted to help him. “We can find people to help keep you accountable, stop you from relapsing. We’ll remind you of how well you’re doing and how far you’ve come. We’ll try and figure out other solutions to your problem of wanting to use magic. We don’t have to rely on dark magic and you don’t have to swear off all magic, we can find something that works for you. I couldn’t find a way to help you do magic in the past but I’m stronger now. We can do this. You don’t have to struggle alone.” Gem’s voice was filled with determination and passion. Sausage fully believed that she’d try and help him. He really didn’t deserve this, not after he hurt her so much. Sausage pulled Gem in for another hug, giving her a tight squeeze that he hoped conveyed everything he was feeling that he just couldn’t say. Gem hugged him back.

“This really means a lot, Gem, thank you.” Sausage said honestly as he released Gem from the hug and stood up. He helped the shorter faun to her feet as she spoke.

“Of course! You’re my friend! I was to help you!.” Sausage felt the same bittersweet emotions he kept feeling but this time they leaned more towards sweet. She’s right, he wasn’t alone. Maybe he could fix what he messed up.

“Yeah.” Sausage said. “Now that the emotional talk is over, can we go back and get lunch? You said they were going to have goat meat wraps and I am so hungry for those right now. I might even just grab a wild goat and eat it right now.” Gem laughed at Sausage’s joke and together the two them headed back towards the tower

#mcyt #empires smp #emptober #mythicalsausage #geminitay #mage sibs #i'm taking a bit of a break after this one #so dont expect any more daily uplaods #Gulfie's Writings

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

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Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.4

Taglist: @mediocredetective

Warnings: Mentions of past child abuse and neglect

“So, what’s the plan for today? Or are we jus’ stayin’ home all day?” Mammon asks as he lugs the suitcase he brought with him into the bedroom and opened some dresser drawers to put his clothes away.

“I figured we could go out and explore more of the city together. Plus, I want to get a few more pieces of furniture to fill out the house.” Arella runs a hand through her hair as she stretches. “Breakfast was great, by the way. Thank you.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that good- not compared to last night’s dinner anyway...”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Honey.” The human gets off the bed to hunt for some clothes of her own. “You’re cooking is good, okay?”

He nods slowly. “Not if you ask my brothers though... One of ‘em always has something ta say ‘bout it- and none of its good. Even Beel has complaints sometimes.”

She frowns in response. “Well, I’ll have you know I genuinely enjoy your cooking. I wouldn’t mind if you cooked for us more often.”

Another nod from the demon as he returns to his task of emptying out his suitcase and Arella continues her search for the perfect outfit.

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“Where is he, Solomon,” The Avatar of Pride questions the sorcerer as he stands in the foyer of Purgatory Hall.

“I’ve already told you, Lucifer.” Solomon replies with a smile on his face. “I don’t exactly know. The human world is the best answer I can give you.”

The demon studies the human for a moment to deduce whether or not he’s lying about know where Mammon is. “Where in the human world?”

“I don’t know. Arella wouldn’t tell me where exactly she was summoning him to.” It’s a tiny lie. Of course, he knew exactly where they were, but Lucifer didn’t need to know that. “I have no reason to lie to you, Lucifer, but why exactly is it that you want to find your brother so badly?”

“I want to... apologize for my actions. It seems, after further review of the situation, that I was wrong. The bill I received was full of fraudulent charges to his credit card. Does that change your answer?” The first-born narrows his eye as the silver-haired sorcerer shook his head. “Then I’ll be off. If you hear anything, I want to be the first to hear about it.

Solomon only nodded, an amused smile playing on his lips. He wondered just how long it would take the demon to pinpoint Mammon and Arella’s location.

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They bounced from shop to shop throughout the day finding many cute trinkets and knick-knacks on their journey. The cutest ones- and Mammon’s personal favorite- was a set of crows sitting on a tree branch together, their bodies turned away with their heads pressed together so that they formed the shape of a heart. He instantly picked it up after Arella made the comment that the crows were representative of them and their love.

As their small shopping spree came down to an end, they had stopped to take a break in a park, just taking a moment to rest and enjoy the beautiful day. It filled Mammon with a warm feeling he wasn’t quite sure he could name just yet so he just opted to hold her hand as they relaxed on the park bench as a few small families played nearby.

His attention in particular was pulled to one certain family: A mother and father with their three boys. Watching them drug up a desire he thought he’d never have.

“Hey, babe,” He starts quietly.

“Yes, Love?” she hums in response.

“Do... Do ya want kids...?”

“Do you?” Arella replies with a question of her own, green eyes peering up at the demon.

“I asked you first.”

With a chuckle she answers, “Yes... having children with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I’d love to one day down the road. How many do you want?”

“Just one would be good enough,” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of her head as they sit there in peace for a while longer.

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Sitting in his office, attempting to keep his mind off Mammon, Lucifer was working on his ever-growing stack of paperwork. It wasn’t working and something in the back of the demon’s mind was gnawing at him. Something Arella had said to him roughly a month ago about stealing his brother away to the human realm and never returning. A laughable idea for as much as he knew she wasn’t joking; she really held no power to make that decision. Mammon was a demon- one of the seven lords of hell. His place was here in the Devildom whether she liked it or not. Mammon himself had to realize this was all pointless eventually and then he would come home and that would be the end of it. Or at least that’s what Lucifer hoped anyway. He really didn’t want to have to drag his brother back here kicking and screaming.

Stepping away from the old, worn-out desk, the eldest decides a break for tea and a phone call might do better to take his mind of things for the time being.

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Putting up her dusty old tomes on various mythologies of the ancient past, Aubrie could just barely hear the phone. Hopping down off the ladder, the mythologist swiped up the device- a gift from the only demon in her contacts. He was lucky she didn’t have it turned off like she usually did while she was working.

“Good evening, Lucifer,” Holding the shiny D.D.D. to her ear, she answered with a chirp. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Good evening, Aubrie.” Lucifer’s voice is smooth as silk and Aubrie has to wonder if he just naturally talks like that or he was using that ‘seductive speechcraft’ Arella had mentioned some time ago to get whatever it was that he wanted from their conversation. “Have you spoken to Arella recently?”

“I have. You know she just moved from England, right?” The ginger chirps. “I texted with her this morning to see how it went.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” The Avatar of Pride hummed as he sipped on his tea. “That’s interesting. Where abouts did she move?”

“I wish I knew. The best I can say is somewhere in mainland Europe,” Aubrie lets out a sigh. “I want to go visit her. I can’t imagine how lonely it is to move to an entirely different country where you’re alone- although for Arella that’s pretty on character...”

“She does seem independent,” Lucifer hums, “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Actually, that’s part of the reason I called. I’m sure she told you that my brother’s with her when you spoke earlier... I need her to send him back. He can’t be missing so much school- his grades are already abysmal to begin with and the longer she keeps him up there, the worse they’ll get. Plus, I have things I need to talk with him about.”

“She's worried about his safety with you, Lucifer. Apparently, you broke his elbow somehow? Or something to that effect.”

“I didn’t break his elbow. No, he did that on his own by falling on it, but my actions helped lead to it so I have some blame in it.” The black-haired demon sighs, “That’s why I’m looking for them. I want to apologize to Mammon- he didn’t exactly deserve what I did that led up to him breaking his elbow.”

The human nods at that. “And here I thought you would be too proud to apologize.” She teased.

“If it were anyone other than my brothers, maybe.” He admits. “But in their own way, each of my brothers are important to me. We’ve been together for eons. Losing a single one of them would be devastating to our family, Aubrie. Like right now, the house has been too quiet and dark since Mammon left for the human realm. Things aren’t right until he comes home.”

“I see, but if you knew your brother would be happier up here in the human world with Arella... would you let him go?”

“I can’t- and it's not because I don’t want him to be happy, quite the opposite, actually- if we were not of such high rank and standing, then I would be content to allow Mammon to follow what makes him happy- whether that be here in the Devildom or up in the human world to allow him to live amongst the humans.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sure Arella has told you about our rank here in the devildom. We’re each to rule over a layer of Hell once we leave RAD in a few years. Mammon has a responsibility to the Devildom as Lord of the Fourth Layer. It's not a thing that he can just leave behind in favor of spending the rest of his human’s minimal lifespan up in the mortal realm.”

“You could be less harsh on him though. I know our morals on what is wrong and right are different and it’s foolish for us to force our morals on to literal demons from some of the stories she mentions about the way you all treat your brother... Well, it sounds like abuse to me and for someone like Arella, that’s very triggering for her.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lucifer’s interest was piqued at the human’s words. He knew next to nothing about Arella’s past before the exchange program and she never talks about her past to begin with so having the opportunity to hear about it was enticing to the Avatar of Pride.

“Her home life when we were children was... less than happy. Her mother was physically, emotionally, and verbally abusive as well as neglectful. I have plenty of pictures from when we were children where she’s covered in bruises, black eyes, busted lips. She would never say anything against her mother so protective services couldn’t do anything for her, but we all knew that woman was the cause of them. So you see, the way you treat your brother drudges up all that old trauma for her and that’s why she behaves the way she does. Wouldn’t you do the same thing if you were in her shoes, Lucifer?”

“You’re not wrong.” He goes to take another sip of his tea but the cup is empty. “This was nice and also very insightful. I have to go now, enjoy the rest of your evening, Aubrie.”

“Thank you, Love. You too. Make sure to go to bed a reasonable time tonight.” There was a short pause on her end before Aubrie began sputtering apologies and trying to back pedal her way out of that embarrassing situation and the line eventually just cut off.

Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all. Humans sure were a funny creature.

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Find more writings on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me fluff #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me oc #arella #aubrie

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thenovelartist · 4 years ago

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A Blanc Slate, Chapter 9

25. Study

They didn’t meet in the bars of the Eiffel Tower, which might have been for the best. Ladybug couldn’t help but recall that day in the rain he’d first appeared to her, his suit whiter than snow, and almost completely cut her from his life. No matter how much she tried to cling to the hope Chat had changed, part of her still worried he would try to do that.

When she landed in the back alley they agreed to meet up in, she caught sight of her partner, collapsed on the ground and leaning against a building. His head was propped up, facing the moon and highlighting the paleness of his skin. For a moment, she studied her partner, taking in everything from his posture to his expression to even the finest details of how handsome he still looked to her despite his clear exhaustion.

Eventually, his eyes opened, and that hazy green gaze of his landed on her. With a fortifying breath, he heaved himself up from his spot, but he didn’t move any closer to her. Instead, he stood an arm’s length from the wall, likely to catch himself if his shaky balance was any indication.

“Hey,” was all she managed to say. She could have kicked herself because she had so many more things she wanted to say, but when it came down to it, it all died on her tongue.

“Hey,” he responded. He then held out a large, brown book to her. “Here.”

She blinked a few times as she looked at the book in his hands, her mind slowly catching up as she realized where she’d seen the cover before. “Is this…?”

“It contains all kinds of information about the miraculous,” Chat said. “Hawkmoth had it, but then I learned Mayura stole it, so I had to hunt it down. Which was why it took me so long to get this book for you.”

She stared at the book, stunned. Master Fu had given her the digital files he’d had when he transferred the guardian task over to her. But she realized Chat hadn’t known that, hence why he’d gone hunting for this. “Chat…”

“Here,” he said, waving the book out and expecting her to take it.

So she did, grabbing the familiar tome carefully.

“All I can hope for is that you’ll be able to find the information you need in that thing to fix what I broke,” he said, ears falling in guilt as his hand fell away, dropping the book completely into her hands. “I’m sorry; I’m leaving you to clean up this mess, but I can’t keep this ring any longer, and you know why.”

He then grabbed hold of his miraculous, ready to pull it off. “I know you always made a fuss about identities,” he continued. “So whether you want to know—”

“I want to know,” she cut in instinctually. “I… I know what I used to say, so I know this is really hypocritical of me, but… but now, I really do want to know. Because I want to keep in contact with you, Chat. I… it would hurt too much to just let you go.”

Pain flashed through his eyes at her words. With a sigh, he hung his head, his hands falling and bracing on his hips. For that moment, Ladybug could feel just how exhausted he was.

“Geez,” he spat. “I ask you that question for years, and the one time I hope you won’t press, you go on and decide to.”

“I know,” she said. “Trust me; I know. But things changed. Hawkmoth is gone, there aren’t any more threats, and if I’m left to chose between protecting identities or giving you up, then there’s only one answer to that.”

Chat quirked a brow at her before shaking his head. “When you phrase it like that, the answer really is obvious.”

“Glad you realize that much,” she said, her smile so weak it barely lasted two seconds.

He sighed, running his hand roughly through his hair. “Fine,” he said. “So be it. I won’t fight you.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

But she found herself breathless again when Chat looked back up at her, his eyes glassy. “We’ll continue this conversation later, but for now, Ladybug, I beg of you, just… leave me be for a month, at least. Then you can hunt me down and hound me and whatever. I just… can’t deal with this now. Please.”

Her heart shattered, not because of his words, but because her cat was so thoroughly and completely broken. He wasn’t even pushing her away anymore. He was tired and confused and struggling to come to terms with so many things, some of which not even Ladybug could guess. However, he wasn’t cutting her out completely, so she could give him space.

But not at this moment.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and took her cat in her arms, hugging him tightly and holding him close. “Then just let me have this moment,” she said. “I’m okay with giving you space after this. Just know I want to be here for you, kitty. In any way you’ll let me”

He’d frozen the second she wrapped her arms around him, but gradually, he relaxed, his chin coming to rest on top of her head as he began leaning into her embrace until she realized she was now the only thing keeping him upright.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, bracing herself so she could support him. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

He took a shaky breath. Then another. And Ladybug didn’t let go, letting him take his time and relishing any time he gave her.

“Claws in.”

His voice broke the long silence as a flash of green lit the alleyway. That’s when she realized she was no longer holding Chat Noir, but rather the boy behind that mask. And with their current position, she couldn’t even see him.

Still, she didn’t move. And she wouldn’t until he was ready to let her go. Because first and foremost, even before being his partner, she was his support.

Quite literally.

26. Reverse Crush

After a moment, Chat, er… the man who was Chat shifted his footing so as to stand on his own two feet. Ladybug continued to hold him steady until she felt he was standing without her assistance before she took a half-step back.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“It’s o—”

She did not get to finish her ‘okay’, because she was now able to look up at the man she’d called her partner for years. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d be stunned speechless by his face.

But… here she was. Because it was a face all too familiar to her.

“Adrien?”

A weak half-smile ticked up the corners of his lips. “Yeah,” he mumbled, voice dejected for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom. “That’s me. Perfect poster boy of Paris.”

Oh… she supposed he was. He was one of Paris’s most prolific models, up until the downfall of his father.

Shit. His father…

Her mind was positively reeling with all the new information as she rapidly put pieces of information together. Ladybug’s vision blurred as tears began dripping from her eyes. Because in the end, the one thing her mind still clung to above all else was he wasn’t just Chat anymore; he was Adrien. He was her friend both in and out of the suit. And for the past two months, she’d watched him suffer and struggle trying to balance the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“How the hell are you still standing?”

That… was not what she’d wanted to say.

He quirked a brow. “What?”

All her earlier prepared speeches were no longer relevant or even able to be remembered at this point. And no other words seemed to be coming to her. Adrien was still waiting for an answer, and finally, after swiping the tears off her face, she figured out how to give him one. “Spots off.”

In a flash of pink, she turned to Marinette. Never did either of their gazes leave the other, Marinette intent on watching Adrien’s expression while she was sure Adrien just didn’t have the thought to look away. Now, she was watching as confusion and shock played out on his face.

And when he stumbled backwards, she reached for him best she could.

She only partly stopped his fall, Adrien having mostly caught himself against the wall. Still, he slid down to the ground, basically unable to hold himself up, and Marinette, in helping him down, found herself half-way on top of him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, running his hands down his face before peeking back at her through is fingers.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing or a ‘you don’t know how to process this’ thing?” she asked, her heart racing a mile a minute. “Because I’m kinda somewhere between the first and last myself.”

She didn’t get an answer. Instead, Adrien slung his arms around her, pulling her close and clinging to her like his lifeline.

She sighed, tension leaving her body in an instant as a relieved smile spread across her face. “Okay. I’m okay with this.”

“Last one.”

“Huh? Oh,” she said, taking a moment to realize what he meant. “Then take all the time you need. I don’t have a second boy to worry about anymore; I’ve just got one that’s been giving me two sets of heart attacks. So feel free to hog my night.”

A weak chuckle rolled through him. Marinette gladly took that win.

“Well,” she continued, settling into his embrace while she embraced him back. “Guess I know why you were pushing Marinette to stay with Adrien. You could have just asked me as Adrien, though.”

He shrugged. “I… realized I really wanted you there. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

“You could have told me outright.”

“It sounded too selfish.”

“Never.”

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Chat could have also asked Ladybug for the same,” Marinette added. “In fact, I wanted Chat to ask me.”

“It now makes sense why you were doing that,” he muttered, burying his face in her shoulder. “Pushing me to meet with you.”

“I thought you loved Ladybug.”

“I did,” he answered. “And I do.”

“So you were pushing her away because you didn’t want her hurt? Because you have a tendency to take everything on your own shoulders?”

He shrugged, but Marinette knew it was because he was reluctant to admit she was right.

“So what made Marinette different?” she asked. “That you would choose her over Ladybug.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, she was worried he wouldn’t answer. “Well…” he finally admitted. “The little spitfire wouldn’t leave me the hell alone, and she kinda grew on me.” He squeezed her tighter. “But, I’m really glad she did.”

I am, too. “So you would have given up the love of your life for a girl you didn’t love but who forced herself into your life?”

“I tried pushing you away, too,” he said. “But you wouldn’t let me do that. And then… I guess after a while, you just… I don’t know, wore me down enough where I couldn’t push you away anymore.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “Even if I was being annoying.”

He huffed.

“Now, I guess the real question is: is Chat going to push Ladybug away, too?”

He paused, lifting his head up off her shoulder so he could look at her properly. Before he could even speak, Marinette was able to relax upon taking in the sincere expression he was wearing. “No,” he said. “He won’t.”

Relief flooded her, and an exhaustion she could not have predicted hit her like a truck. She snuggled back into his chest, happy to hold him and be held by him, even if it was in some dark, dingy, moonlit back alley. “I’m really glad to hear that."

27. Singing

They ended up back at Adrien’s place. In the end, Marinette did take the ring from him. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to. Not in the slightest. But when it came down to the fact that his ring was making him sick, she also didn’t want to leave it with him a moment more. She’d figure out how to fix it later, planning to ask Tikki for help as well as scour that book for any clues.

But at the moment, she was more concerned getting her partner to bed. Starting tonight, she would nurse him back to health, and there was nothing he could do to prevent her from doing that.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem apt to oppose.

Upon crashing down into his bed, Adrien reached a hand out for her. She couldn’t help but smile, settling down next to him and letting him wrap an arm around her.

“You got very needy,” she teased, thinking about how only a couple months ago, he had been completely adamant about cutting her out of his life. It was quite the change, but Marinette wasn’t complaining.

He just grunted, burying his head in her shoulder.

Giggling, Marinette began stroking his hair, absently humming a happy tune.

“You have a pretty voice,” he muttered.

“It’s the closest to a purr I have,” she shot back.

He hummed. “Now I know why you always made me purr against my will.”

She scoffed, amused. “When was it ever against your will?”

His silence was enough of an answer.

For now, she let it go, going back to her singing and continuing to do so until she felt his deep, steady breathing indicate he was asleep.

She smiled but didn’t stop stroking his hair. “My good kitty,” she murmured, her heart finally able to settle calmly for the first time in ages. He was back where he belonged: by her side.

Actually, he was closer than that but still perfectly in place. And Marinette wouldn’t have it any other way.

#just finish it #miraculous ladybug #marichatmay2021 #This story has just devolved into and I'm sorry if it's a mess

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

Note

Cas using Enochian pick-up lines on oblivious Dean. Dean doesn't get them, Cas feels rejected each time, and Sammy is done with it all! Can I have that fic, pretty please?

ah, this has been sitting here for a WHILE, so i’m sorry that i’m trash

lost in translation

---

It begins when Dean is pathetically trying to impress his crush.

Or at least that would be Sam’s take, if Dean cared enough to ask him.

Dean would rather say that it began with a simple misunderstanding, one which could happen to anyone.

He doesn’t ask Cas’ opinion of the situation (and Cas would say that’s the whole crux of the problem).

Whoever has the correct perspective, no one would argue about the beginning of the affair. It starts one afternoon when Dean is contemplating switching Sam’s creamer with buttermilk, just for a break in the monotony. Cas is with him in the library, his customary suit and coat exchanged for a hoodie and a comfortable looking pair of jeans which Dean suspects used to belong to him (there’s something vaguely familiar about that hole in the knee, and it wouldn’t be the first time Cas has pilfered his room for clothing; several of Dean’s shirts have ended up upon the angel’s body. Cas always seems perplexed when Dean calls him on his thievery, plucking at the shirt with faint confusion--Oh this? I found this down in the laundry room a few days ago and thought it looked familiar, do you want it back? And the question is phrased so forlornly that Dean can’t help but allow Cas to steal another article of clothing out from under his very nose.). Cas dresses down these days. And slouches. Right now, his chin is in danger of disappearing into his chest. The sight delights Dean. There for a while, he hadn’t been sure Cas was capable of relaxing.

It’s an overwhelmingly quiet afternoon. It’s nice, because Dean loves to spend time with Cas when there’s no imminent blood or monsters on their horizons, but it’s also boring. Dean sneaks a glance at Cas over the top of his book. Cas seems perfectly content to sit all day reading some godawful thick, leather bound tome. Dean finds himself less than content, but he doesn’t want to leave Cas. He sighs, shifting in his seat as he pretends to read. After a few more minutes, he sighs again, this time with a little more spite in the sound.

(Dean’s about three seconds away from kicking his feet and whining I’m bored, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.)

Cas mutters under his breath. Dean recognizes the guttural syllables of Enochian, which is Cas’ go-to language for when he’s saying something hateful and he doesn’t want to get called out on it. Tough luck for him, though, because Dean’s heard one of those words enough to parse its meaning.

“Did you just call me stupid?” he demands, slapping his book down on the arm of the chair.

Castiel looks at him, his eyes wide with surprise. “You...understood that?” he asks. “You understand Enochian?”

Not in the slightest, is what Dean should say. He understands one word, and that’s only because Cas uses it enough as an insult that it managed to stick in his mind. But something that looks like fondness, and admiration, and other nice adjectives which Dean would like Cas to apply to him, shines at the edges of Cas’ eyes. So he rolls his eyes a little bit (the audacity of Cas! Asking him if he bothered to study something which was not strictly required!) and scoffs, “Uh, kind of hard not to at this point, you know, what with...” He waves his hand at Cas, hoping that the vagueness of the gesture will cover a multitude of sins.

And really, he should come clean. If the past fifteen years have taught him anything, it’s that nothing good comes from lying to your nearest and dearest. But this is just a little white lie. Like when he was sixteen and he told Brandy Fletcher he could play a rocking drum solo, because he wanted to impress her and there was no way he would ever be called upon to perform such a task. This is just a little fib, made so that Cas doesn’t think he’s a fucking idiot.

Plus, there’s something which looks horribly similar to gratitude shining in Cas’ eyes. The emotion brims over until those baby blues can hardly contain it, and Cas looks so goddamned happy. Dean’s not a monster. He’s not going to take that away from Cas just so he can come clean with a Gotcha! moment.

Cas bites at his lower lip, looking uncommonly shy. Worry starts to stir in Dean’s gut, which is only compounded when Cas says something else in soft yet clear Enochian. As the new phrase doesn’t have the word stupid anywhere in it, Dean doesn’t have the slightest idea of what Cas is saying. The guilt squirming in his stomach gets worse when Cas looks at him, with gentle anticipation, as though he’s expecting a reply. Dean does what humans have been doing since the beginning of time when confronted with a language they don’t understand and smiles, wide and sunny, at Cas. Cas’ forehead creases but he returns the gesture. His eyes are still brimming over with emotion and the sight does something to Dean.

Dean begins to suspect that he may have started something which he is not equipped to finish.

---

After that, things get a little weird. Considering Dean’s general life, that’s saying something.

Dean catches Cas looking at him more, like Cas is having a one-man staring contest with the side of his face. Cas staring at him is nothing to write home about, but his looks have gained new intensity. It makes Dean’s innards squirm with worry as well as something deeper. He’s not willing to examine that feeling any closer, though it is pleasant.

As if the soulful looks weren’t bad enough, there’s also the thoughtful slant of Cas’ eyes to worry about. Every time he looks at Dean, he looks like he’s working himself up to something momentous. Since momentous decrees from Cas usually come hand in hand with world-ending events and revelations, Dean thinks he can forgiven for dodging Cas’ presence.

It does him no good: the bunker, for all its space, is only so large in the end, and Cas was once a heavenly messenger who has the patience of millennia. Add that to the fact that Dean needs to eat at least twice a day, and the game of Cornering Dean becomes a game of cards, in which the deck is stacked firmly in Cas’ favor.

Dean sneaks into the kitchen sometime between midnight and two am. If Sam caught him, then he would get a talking-to about the most appropriate times to eat, better digestive function, and the ravages of heartburn in a man his age, but it’s not his brother sitting at the table when Dean flicks on the light.

It’s Cas, who blinks owlishly at him, before his face splits into his brightest smile.

(Cas’ brightest smile is an awkward, crooked little thing. On a regular human being it would be considered unbecoming. On Cas, it’s a thing of glory.)

“Dean,” Cas greets him. Hearing his voice in that low, rough voice never fails to send a little shiver down his spine, and today is no different. “This is an odd time for a snack.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, a little lamely. The shock of finding Cas in the kitchen has kind of killed his appetite, but it’s not like he can turn around and leave. “Just, you know, had a craving. Why were you here?”

Cas looks around the kitchen, his mouth pursed. “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

Dean looks at him, waiting for the punchline. “You were sitting in the dark, dude.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t need lights to see in the dark,” Cas says, as though the knowledge that his best friend has some freaky see in the dark cat eye nonsense going on with him isn’t the weirdest thing Dean’s heard all day.

“Great.” Dean opens the fridge and pulls out a container at random. He spares one second to hope that Sam got rid of all the moldy food before he samples the contents. “Well, I think I’m going back to my room now.”

He wants to get out of here, not so much because he doesn’t want to talk to Cas (he has no problem with late-night chats with Cas, it’s just that he would prefer such chats take place in his room, preferably in his bed, preferably while both participants were significantly less dressed), but because Cas is starting to get that look again, like he’s getting ready to drop an atomic bomb’s worth of shit on Dean in the middle of the kitchen.

“Dean.” Cas stands up. He twists his fingers together before he realizes what he’s doing, and then places them flat against his thighs. He takes a deep breath. Before Dean can stop him, Cas opens his mouth.

Low, rolling syllables flow through the kitchen, the harsh notations of Enochian softened by Cas’ voice. There’s a question in Cas’ eyes, and Dean would answer it, if he only knew what Cas was asking.

The kitchen falls into silence. Dean gets the distinct impression that walking away is not the appropriate reaction. If only he knew what the appropriate reaction was.

He settles for plastering a fake ass smile on his face and loosing a brittle laugh which threatens to shatter the lighting fixtures. The corners of his mouth hurt from the wideness of his smile, but not even the small twinge of pain can take away from the brief flash of hurt in Cas’ eyes.

“Yeah. You bet.” Dean barely restrains himself from giving Cas a big thumbs up.

Cas’ face, if possible, turns even more disconsolate. Dean’s stomach twists at the sight.

This would be the correct moment to confess. Cas, I don’t have the faintest idea what you said, but I’d really like it if you could say it again in English, so that I could maybe comment on it. Sorry I’m such a jackass.

Dean does not confess. He reaches out and claps Cas on the shoulder, almost buckling Cas’ knees under the friendly contact. Dean almost stops, but he continues to his room, trying to erase the memory of Cas’ stricken face.

---

It gets worse.

Cas says something in Enochian to him the next morning, a tiny, hopeful smile darting across his face. Dean gives him a weak smile in return and tries not to focus on the longing, almost desperate tone of Cas’ voice. “Ok, Cas,” he says, when it becomes clear Cas is angling for something more than a smile that makes it look like he ate some bad tacos.

Cas takes him by the wrist. This time the syllables which come out of his mouth are almost frantic. His eyes are wide and imploring, and his voice cracks on the last word.

The truth, Dean. Tell him the truth.

“Look, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says. Confronted by the weight of his failings and his inadequacies, he flees. All the while, he feels Cas’ eyes on his back.

---

It gets worse.

Cas continues to mutter Enochian at him, alternating between frustrated, hurt, mocking, and pleading inflections. Each time, Dean looks at him in a mixture of helplessness and shame.

The last time Cas tries, there’s a faint snap and tingle of grace curling around the room. Dean can taste it in the air, ozone and electricity, before it makes the lamp closest to him spark and pop. “Great, now you’re killing the furniture,” comes out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Cas recoils as though Dean reached out and slapped him. He says something else in Enochian, his voice small and defeated. He won’t even look at Dean.

If Dean were a better person, he would come clean. He would apologize to Cas and beg his forgiveness. He would take Cas’ scorn and irritation and lump it in with the rest of the shit that’s gone wrong with his life, and they would move past this.

Dean’s not a good person. Hell, he’s not even an okay person. He’s a piece of shit who got a hell of a lot luckier than he ever deserved, and Cas is just naive enough not to realize that.

---

It gets worse.

Sam walks into the library one afternoon with a dazed look on his face which means he’s just emerged from being caught deep in a book. He runs his hands through his hair and only then seems to realize that Dean and Cas are sitting at opposite ends of the library, deliberately ignoring each other. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

“You guys okay?” he asks, glancing back and forth between them.

“We’re good,” Dean says shortly, flipping a page of his book with unneeded aggression.

Sam flicks his eyes towards Castiel. Cas looks over the top of his book, his eyebrows twisted in a scowl. He mutters something most definitely not English under his breath, staring at Dean.

Sam chokes on nothing.

“You all right there, Sammy?” Dean glances at Sam, only to see that his brother’s face is bright red.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Castiel says something else in Enochian, sounding more forlorn than angry. Dean didn’t think it was possible for his brother’s eyes to get any wider. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?” Dean asks. He keeps his eyes on Cas, but the question is meant for both of them.

“I think you two should really talk,” Sam says, looking back and forth between him and Cas. “I think you’re both missing some information.”

“What do you mean--” Dean pauses as the obvious answer comes to him. “Hold on. You can understand him?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Castiel says, proving that he can speak English just damn fine when he wants to. Then, because Cas is an asshole whose main job is torturing Dean, he mutters something in Enochian.

Sam snorts.

If he didn’t know he would later regret it, Dean would put both of them in the ground.

“Well, if you want someone to talk to you, then knock it off and speak English!” Dean snaps. “I’ve got no idea why you’re babbling on like that and looking like I kicked your puppy when I don’t answer.”

Cas scowls, the full wrath of Heaven in his eyes. He starts what sounds like it will no doubt be a lengthy tirade (in Enochian of fucking course), before he’s interrupted by Sam.

“Dean doesn’t understand Enochian, Cas!” he shouts.

Two pairs of eyes snap to Sam. Dean’s are filled with furious betrayal, Cas’ with frustrated confusion. Sam ignores them both, rolling his own eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, look, I’m sorry to cut in your drama or whatever, and I’m sure that you two could keep this up for another three weeks, but I value my sanity. Dean, nut up and tell Cas you don’t speak Enochian. Cas, stop running into a brick wall and tell him what you want. I mean, good God, it’s like I have to do everything around here myself!”

Sam’s complaining never ceases as he peruses the shelves for the particular book he’s looking for. Both Dean and Cas are referred to multiple times as idiots, sometimes assholes, and once even idjits. Throughout his litany of abuse, Dean and Castiel refuse to look at each other, though Dean does feel a telltale prickling at the back of his neck several times. Every time he looks at Cas, however, the angel has his eyes firmly fixed on his book.

Dean wonders if Cas would get more pissed if he told him his book was upside down.

“You ever think about how much pain and agony you could save me if you two assholes would just talk to each other?” Sam finally snaps. Arms laden with books, he levels a fearsome glare at the both of them. “For homework, neither of you are coming out of this library until you’ve actually talked to each other like rational adults. And if you make any weird noises, I’m going to smother both of you in your sleep.”

He stalks out of the library, leaving Cas and Dean alone once more. Cas looks up from his book, finally realizing it’s upside-down, while Dean puts down his own book. They stare at each other for a long moment, then speak at once.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t understand Enochian?” “What were you trying to say to me?”

They stop. Dean swallows, gathers up all of his manly courage, and speaks.

“So what were you trying to say to me? It must have been pretty exciting to get Sammy clutching his pearls.”

Cas tilts his head. He considers Dean for a long moment before he crosses the space between them. Cas leans forward, putting his hands on the arms of Dean’s chair. The gesture boxes Dean in, a turn of events which Dean doesn’t struggle against.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t speak Enochian?”

Pinned beneath Cas’ gaze, Dean squirms uncomfortably. Now that it’s just him and Cas, his deception seems childish. Would it really have been the end of the world if he’d told Cas he was too stupid and selfish to learn his language? It would have just been another disappointment in Cas’ life, but has it been worth these past few days of being at odds with Cas?

Heat flushes along the bridge of Dean’s nose as he mutters, “I wanted you to think I was smart.”

Damn super-angelic hearing. Cas doesn’t miss a beat, though his forehead creases. “You wanted...what? Dean, you are smart.”

He says it so naturally, as though Dean doesn’t struggle over translations or speaking Latin or cross-referencing indexes or any of the thousand other things that seem to come naturally as breathing to Sam and Cas. “Yeah, sure, I’m a regular fucking genius,” Dean mumbles.

“You’re capable of finding the problem with a faulty engine with a single look. You built your own EMF meter out of a spare Walkman. Despite your efforts to hide it, you’re very well-read, and you have an innate understanding of some fairly complicated mathematics. I’m not sure exactly what humans qualify as intelligent, but I feel as though all of those skills count.”

Dean knows his whole face is red. Heat prickles along the tips of his ears and down his neck. “Jesus, Cas,” he mutters. Unable to withstand the force of those blue eyes, he darts his glance down towards the floor. “Most people don’t start sweet talking until the third date.”

“Well, I’m an angel,” Castiel says, smugly, as though that solves every argument (not a bad strategy; that line’s worked for Cas for years. What else can you say after that?).

“All right, I answered yours, now you answer mine. What were you trying to say to me?”

Amazingly, Cas’ cheeks color.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean wheedles, when Cas doesn’t immediately answer. “I told you mine.”

Cas looks off to the side. He actually shuffles his feet before he answers, “It was just a thought. I thought, maybe, we could...Never mind. It was stupid.” He looks back at Dean and rolls his eyes, showing how ridiculous he finds this whole trial. “I guess, roughly translated, it would amount of something like ‘If only he were as decisive as he is pretty, then there would be no problem’.” He forces a weak laugh. “I said it in the heat of the moment. I was frustrated.”

Dean blinks in astonishment. Only one fact has managed to slip through the tangle of Cas’s words. “You think I’m pretty?”

Castiel’s blush deepens. “Anyone who has eyes would think that,” he says, a little roughly.

An automatic flush spreads across Dean’s cheeks, but he’s able to ignore that. He’s much more interested in what else Cas might have been telling him. “And what was something else you said?”

Cas coughs. “’Your eyes are bright as the sunrise, yet they fail to see what is in front of them’,” he says. If possible, his already rough voice has deepened.

“Another.”

Cas doesn’t pretend coyness. “’You had my heart from the first time I saw your soul’,” he says, in a near whisper.

Dean can’t hold himself back. He snatches Cas’ hoodie in his hands and drags Cas down to his level. Cas lets out a surprised grunt before he gracefully collapses atop Dean. He’s barely managed to balance himself on Dean’s lap before Dean’s lip are on his.

Despite Dean’s rushed actions, the kiss is sweet and almost chaste. Cas’ lips are warm and chapped and utterly wonderful. At first, they’re stiff, but only for a second. Then Cas relaxes into the kiss, sighing happily as his hand cups Dean’s cheek. Cas’ stubble scratches against his chin. He’s going to bear the marks of Cas’ affection later, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

Cas parts from him, but not far. In fact, he’s close enough to Dean that when whispers a phrase in Enochian, his lips brush against Dean’s.

A shiver of delight runs down Dean’s spine. Now that he knows the gist of what Cas was trying to say to him, Enochian fills him with illicit glee. “What did that mean?”

Cas kisses him again, adding a cunning sweep of his tongue across the seam of Dean’s lips. “’Of all the stars in the heavens, you shine the brightest’,” he translates, resting his forehead against Dean’s.

Heat floods through Dean once more. It’s everything he ever dreamed of hearing. It seems impossible that he could have it. There should be a rule against it. Dean Winchester doesn’t get what he wants.

Except, apparently, Dean Winchester does get what he wants, as evidenced by his lapful of angel murmuring Enochian endearments into his ear. “Hey Cas?” Dean tilts his head to catch Cas’ eye. “When I first saw you, sparks flew. How would you say that in Enochian?”

Cas thinks for a second before a smile spreads across his face. “I’ll teach you,” he promises, before he pulls Dean’s face towards him once more.

(Sam’s warning about making weird noises makes a lot more sense now.)

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #canonverse fic #fluff #dothwrites

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mihidecet · 4 years ago

Text

Sbi&co D&D AU: Friendships and Rivalries

Surprise! Early posting ahahah Simply because I felt like it <3

I do hope you’ll like this! Final chapter before the action really starts, ideally? That is what should happen unless I go off in a tangent ... who knows ahahah

A special thank you to Ranch, Sky and Ozzie from the DnD Discord, who are the people responsible for the last part of the chapter <3

The first time he sees him, it takes him a moment to register who he's looking at.

To be fair, the amount of people around them is incredibly high, everyone moving in and out of the room to check out who their teammates will be, voices raising in calls and shouts and gleeful yells - so, basically, hell on earth.

There is nowhere in the world that Techno would want to be any less. If he could leave that instant, he would. But they had decided to accompany Tubbo, Niki and Fundy, who were going to find out the name of their future companion for the next months or so, and it is a very good occasion to scout out the competition.

So there Techno is, leaning slightly against Phil - not for comfort, why would anyone ever think that - while his eyes scan the crowd, trying to focus on his self-appointed task instead of the uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut.

There are some individuals that he thinks are going to cause problems. The academy students are a given: one may think that lack of outside knowledge and adventuring experience would make them a weak target. Those who think that way have evidently never heard of the academy - which was built and is currently ran by a former adventurer - and have somehow missed the endless training fields just outside the academic buildings.

But there are also some adventurers that seem to know what they're doing; Phil taps him once or twice to nod towards them. Although to be fair, he doubts that relying only on first impressions is a good thing - their group surely doesn't look like a competent one with Tubbo and Tommy excitedly calling out random names from the board.

Then, his eyes catch onto green skin. Half-orcs are definitely not that uncommon, especially when in a sea of adventurers, but. It's a half-orc with an axe that seems to be as big as himself, its metal shining over the crowd, helped also by the fact that its owner is definitely taller than average.

So his eyes linger: the signs of Calvin's training are not that evident if you don't know where to look, but Dream has left the nest for so little, and Techno trained with the elf for so long ... It's all in the posture, the almost lazy way he places himself in the world, which highly contrasts with the way his muscles are tense and his shoulders are set. The pretense of relaxation is something that is very dear to Calvin, because it either gets your opponent overly confident, or it makes them extremely irritated and therefore more prone to making mistakes.

Dream is surely going to be an obstacle in the tournament; him and the short human that's gripping at his arm and shaking it, who'd clad in outfits that resemble almost too closely those of Master Fruitberries.

Techno lightly elbows Phil's side, distracting him from where he was staring at the row of academics looking down at the groups of adventurers. The druid turns with a small smile, a question in his eyes that is answered when Techno's chin juts out towards the half-orc.

After a moment - during which Phil's eyes scan the young fighter's form, surely detailing weapons, armour and notable characteristics - he gives a small chuckle.

"So, your infamous rival?"

Techno huffs, eyes rolling under the hood covering his face - they're not rivals, they were just trained under the same master. There is no sense of rivalry, no feeling of needing to prove himself - certainly not to him, and Calvin hasn't been a part of his life for so long, he doesn't need to confirm the fact that he is definitely better-

His arms cross over his chest without his permission - stupid subconscious movements - and he leans back, further into Phil. He does not care for all … that.

Especially since he has no idea if Dream knows about him - it had seemed so embarrassing to ask Calvin, if he still spoke about "his favourite pupil", "his brightest student", considering how he literally just bailed on him in the middle of the night with no explanation.

Still, Phil's hand reaches his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that forces him to stop curling up into himself while his eyes search him.

"You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine. We know what we're doing, Jerry." Phil finishes with a chuckle, using for him the fake name they chose to keep their identities hidden.

It makes Techno snort amusedly, which must have been Phil's objective with the way he's smiling at that moment, but it also eases his worries a little.

It's just another enemy he'll have to face during the tournament.

Nothing to worry about.

The first time Dream sees Techno, he doesn't realise it.

He’s walking to his own team’s training field, talking enthusiastically with Sapnap about their new teammates. He's still reeling from the fact that they'll be teaming up with George: a part of him worrying about the endless hours spent annoying the wizard, hoping it won't get in the way of their teamwork - he doesn't know yet that the two of them were chosen, that George hand picked them from a crowd of endless adventurers. George doesn't plan on telling them, but that is a whole other subject.

Still, Dream sees a colourful group of people lead by what seems to be a young tiefling - eyes narrowing with worry and confusion, because … a child? In the tournament? - and doesn’t take note of the hooded giant whose ear is being talked off by said kid.

And even if he does, his eyes do not linger: it’s probably another overly-dramatic rogue anyway.

Nothing to worry about.

That very same morning, Tommy had woken up with a spring in his step.

Finally they were going to have an actual proper place to train in, for what was basically the first time since he'd joined this group, and he couldn't wait to try it out. He'd spent so much time talking with Techno about their plans, since the shifter had taken it upon himself to do a bit of digging to find out what the tournament was probably going to entail; finally they could put all that planning into motion.

Tommy had, surprisingly, been one of the first people to reach the main downstairs area, snagging a table for the whole team while Techno and Niki grabbed chairs for all of them. The three of them started eating, talking strategy together while the rest of the team slowly trickled downstairs. Some more awake than others, with the notable mention of Tubbo, who had never been a morning person and had therefore plopped down on his chair, head pillowed over his arms as he waited for the mug of coffee that Tommy ordered for him the instant he saw his best friend dragging his feet down the stairs.

To be fair, everyone in the whole tavern seemed to be a bit sleepy, since they'd all stayed up very late - probably to celebrate the team formation announcement, but adventures rarely needed a proper reason to party.

The last one to join them had been Fundy, who had half ran down the stairs and almost smacked into a dragonborn on his way to their table - slowing down as he reached them to pretend he hadn't been in a hurry, as if nobody had been watching him stumbling over his feet.

"Oh, for the love of the gods above, are you still talking about training? What nerds." The mage had groaned, leaning back into his chair with a chuckle, ignoring the irritated look Tommy sent him.

"You literally carry around a book that's as heavy as you are!" Tommy protested, gesturing towards the mostly pristine tome half-hidden under the shifter's dark jacket, but Fundy simply waved dismissively at him.

"Aren't you worried we'll copy your strategies, too? We're supposed to fight against each other!" Fundy commented with a coy look, raising an eyebrow inquisitively towards Tommy as he raised his mug to his lips to take a rather dramatic sip.

Before Tommy could find a good retort to that, Techno's low voice raised over the gentle chatter of their table.

"Brave of you to think I don't already know multiple ways of crushing you to the ground."

The deadpan in Techno's tone, combined with his words, had Fundy instantly choking on his drink - the sound of his coughing covered by Phil's wheeze on Tommy's left while Niki tried to pat him on the back, stifling her own laughter behind her hand.

Still, in the end that is what they agreed on: they would train separately, avoid helping each other more than necessary, and they decided to ban tournament talk during breaks. For all that Tommy wanted to spend all the time they had preparing, he was also aware that this was definitely a long process, and rushing into it would only make them all more tired.

But on the other hand, they had a week to spar and practice, so they were definitely planning on making the most of it.

After breakfast they all returned to their rooms, gathered what they needed, and then hurried to the fields, with the promise of meeting back again only once the day was over.

Which lead Tommy to his current situation.

What the fuck are you doing to these poor eggs?! The indignation in the voice of his patron is palpable, the demon's words resonating in his head for a moment due to the sheer loudness of it.

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes, continuing to move the eggs around on the metal plate with the wooden spatula Phil had carved out of a thin branch. The pained noise his patron lets out when he stabs into a yolk reminds him of a whining puppy.

Why, why, why?! Just leave them alone, let them get nice and crispy! Don't you humans know how to cook?

Just for that, Tommy breaks another egg open and instantly breaks it apart, a part of him relishing in the desperate "no!" that follows.

"I know how to cook, bitch! Why would I fry them, this is so much better!" Tommy grumbles under his breath, moving his other hand to the underside of the metal pan to strengthen the flame. Wilbur shoots him a curious look from where he's leaning against the tree, fixing one of the bandages around his fingers which had gotten loose from all the playing he'd been doing that morning.

Why would you scramble perfectly good eggs?! Tommy lets out a frustrated groan, the hunger in his stomach doing wonders for how quickly he's able to get riled up, and he waves the spatula wildly in the air - thankfully, years and years of training prevent him from burning instantly the wooden tool in his hand, otherwise that would have been quite awkward.

"I like my eggs scrambled! Suck it up, this is what I'm getting!" He yells out, which immediately prompts the other to look over towards him. His patron huffs out in his mind, and Tommy can picture him crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

Alright, whatever, your loss, bitch.

Tommy doesn't notice Wilbur standing up from his spot under the leaves, but he does notice the nudge in his side as the tiefling stands next to him.

"Is good ol' cousin being a dick?" He asks, looking down at the eggs while Tommy snorts in laughter.

"Yeah." NO! the two of them answer at the same time. Only, Tommy's the only one Wilbur can hear, so the young human definitely wins that conversation.

"He's always been a picky asshole about food." Wilbur comments, absolutely unaware of how the demon in Tommy's head whines and starts protesting - further proving the tiefling's point.

"In fact, you know what? -"Wilbur's face suddenly looks almost scary with how his grin turns menacing "- I have plenty of stories I could tell you if he keeps bothering you-"

I am realizing right now I have something so very important to do don't wait for me see you in a couple of years bye-

Tommy's patron says in what seems to be a single breath of air, words slurring together and mixing with each other before the presence in Tommy's brain disappears.

The young warlock blinks, stunned into silence at the suddenness of his patron's escape; a part of him wonders what memories Wilbur has of their younger selves that made the demon flee so suddenly.

Still, then thing is … now that he's gone, there's nothing stopping him from asking, right?

"So?? Go on, tell me everything!" The presence is, of course, back in an instant, and if Tommy was concentrating he'd be able to hear his patron physical flailing as he struggles against the intangible in order to stop Tommy.

DO NOT-

Fundy likes the new guy. He's extremely funny, that is for sure, but on top of that he is smart enough to keep up with his ramblings on team composition, and has been able to get along with the three of them quite easily.

Fundy still considers a win the fact that he wasn't too weirded out by their less than stellar introduction, but in retrospect he shouldn't have worried. Quackity is cool.

Or at least he seems to be, but Fundy will take it - he knows, despite what his mind likes to make him believe, that he can rely on others without risking too much, that he won't be ditched at the last second and left to pick up pieces-...

But this is not the best time to be thinking about the past.

Fundy turns another page on his notebook, the only book in his possession that's ragged and not well kept, and starts tracing down pathlines - the four of them have been talking about possible ways of getting around the obstacle course, since three out of the four of them are not that used to scaling buildings, and Niki can't really help all of them constantly, it would only slow them down as a whole.

But before he can say anything, there's a sudden gasp from his left side as Tubbo darts upwards and starts running towards the edge of the training field - jumping straight into the arms of his best friend.

"If you have a spell to make yourself faster, that could still be useful. The less people need help the better!" Quackity comments, bringing Fundy's attention back to the task at hand; the mage nods, now a bit absent mindedly as he watches the rest of their team trickle in their personal training area. He is suddenly more aware of the tiredness in his body and of the overall late hour. They have been working hard all day. They probably need a rest.

Quackity, sitting in front of him, turns around to follow his eyesight with a questioning look and … Fundy knows he's not the best at noticing things about people, he's usually more interested in magic and how objects work, but he does notice Quackity's whole body flinch and the way his shoulders are suddenly ten times tenser than before.

A bad feeling settles in his gut as questions start swirling around in his mind - he seemed cool, what is the problem now, and will it get in the way? - and he watches almost petrified as Quackity turns back towards him, two shades paler and eyes unfocused as he seems to be almost shrinking in on himself.

The bard's body gives another jolt as if he's suddenly hit with a shocking spell as his eyes fall on Fundy's face - who, to be quite honest, was getting kinda worried - and then he blinks, as if coming back to himself with a small nervous chuckle.

"You good, man?" Fundy asks tentatively, watching as Quackity shoots another look to the rest of the group only to turn back immediately when he notices that Phil is staring at the two of them - thanks, Phil, way to go.

"I- I, yeah! Of course!" Quackity lies, evidently too shaken up to try and make it believable, but thankfully all Fundy has to do is level him with an unimpressed stare for him to crack - which is not a good sign, but Fundy will take what he can get.

The bard bends forward, bringing a hand up to hide the movement of his lips from the rest of the group.

"You never told me you hang out with Technoblade!" Quackity yells with a whisper, an edge of panic and urgency in his tone that makes Fundy burst out laughing, head thrown back as he clutches at his stomach.

“Oh yeah! He’s a friend, a pal.” Fundy answers, waving around his notebook dismissively but unable to suppress the grin on his face: he hasn't had a chance to do this yet, this "I'm friends with one of the most famous killers for hire in the whole region" reveal, and he must admit he's been looking forward to it. The way Quackity's arms flail around in a mix of shock, anger and fear is definitely worth it.

“You’re friends with Technoblade?!” The bard whispers in panic, eyes wide, and Fundy is chuckling, lost in an internal debate on whether to double down on the traumatizing or to reassure the man, when he realises that Phil has been approaching them. The moment the elf kneels down on the grass, Quackity also notices him and jumps about a mile in the air. Phil, nonplussed, offers him a hand in greeting with a bright smile on his face.

“Heya, mate! I don’t think we had a chance to properly meet yet, but I’m Phil. I love your songs.” Quackity, as Fundy has found out in the short time he's known him, does not know how to handle honest compliments - it's something the two of them have in common -, so he instantly flushes a bit, scratching the back of his neck self consciously.

“I-uh- thank you! I really appreciate it!” Fundy sees his eyes subconsciously stray towards Wilbur, which makes him realise that it's not only Techno that has fame and renown; he wonders for a moment if Quackity's Techno-induced anxiety is also related to the fact that wherever the Blade goes, Wilbur Soot is always there with him - the Golden Bard, one, if not the best storyteller in the region.

Phil's eyes follow to where Quackity seems to be timidly staring, and gives a small chuckle, making the bard's head snap back towards him.

“Don’t worry, he’s a big fan too.” Quackity sputters for a moment, rambled protests spilling from his mouth, but Phil merely laughs and pats his back, standing back up and offering one hand to each of them to help them stand up.

“Come on, we’re going to wash up and get dinner. You all deserve some rest."

#sbi dnd au #sbi&co dnd au #now sbi&co #philza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #itsfundy #technoblade #quackity #dreamwastaken #sapnap #just mentioned #jschlatt #mr ram demon man is back #now with eggs

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ambersock · 4 years ago

Text

On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

#spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #cassifer

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

Text

A Familiar Soul - Chapter Three

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: I tried my best not to make Johanna’s parents downright abusive again but... that whole “this isn’t the sort of mum I wanted to be” breakdown Johanna had in The Fifty Year Night wasn’t something someone who grew up with good parents would do, I think. Hope you enjoy it!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3)

“Yep, this is certainly magical business just like you suspected, Frida. You can close your mouth now.”

At the librarian’s command, David closed his mouth and swallowed, feeling the bitter taste that arose every time he did so. He had been with his friends in the woods for a leaf identifying Sparrow Scout activity when he ate a berry that had evoked the most bizarre reaction from his body. Purple bubbles the same colour as the berry had sprouted on his tongue and made it feel like a dead slug inside his mouth, and as soon as the girls had taken a look at it they’d decided to go ask Kaisa what her opinion on the matter was.

“Am I going to die?” He whispered fearfully. David knew he could trust magic when it came from Frida, but aside from that his experience with it so far had been less than pleasant. Kaisa blew raspberry and swept a hand on the air, as if to brush his concerns away.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

The librarian turned her back to them and continued calmly typing on her computer behind the circulation desk, like she’d been doing when they arrived. Judging by the books on the counter, they assumed she was taking note of which tomes had been returned that day.

“Well?” Hilda shared a look with Frida as she asked. “What happened to him?”

The way Kaisa looked back at them and then to the side was uncharacteristic. She seemed to be battling with herself about whether or not she should answer them, which only made David worry that he was, indeed, going to die.

“He ate the berries of a bush protected by the fae people.” She explained at last, looking not at them but at the computer screen. “Terrible idea.”

“And how do we undo it?” Hilda stepped closer to the counter. The librarian placed her hand on top of one of the books, biting her bottom lip as she did so. Though she might not like Johanna, Kaisa wanted to respect her wishes as Hilda’s mother, and giving them what they needed very much went against them. It was the way Hilda was looking at her, with wide and hopeful eyes, that made her throw caution to the wind and give her the book. If the girl’s first reaction to disaster was looking for some random witch and not her mother, that was on Johanna.

“The potion is on page 63. It’s simple to brew, Frida shouldn’t have any trouble. Oh, and just for good measure, go back to the bush and place an offering on the ground for the faeries. They’ll enjoy anything sweet or shiny, as long as it’s not iron.”

“Thanks, Kaisa!” Hilda smiled up at her as she handed Frida the potions book. “You’re the best!”

The trio ran out of the library together, hoping to get started on their tasks as soon as possible. Until the doors closed behind them, Kaisa could hear Hilda talking about how she could handle the offering while her witch brewed the potion. She sighed and allowed herself to fall back against her chair, her head on her hands as she breathed deep.

The girl was too much like her mother.

_#_#_#_

It had been an extremely risky move on her part, but Johanna arrived safely on the ground. The palms of her hands were stinging from gripping her makeshift rope so tightly, and she looked up at the string of clothes she’d tied together in order to allow herself out of her room on the second floor of her house. As soon as her feet touched the earth, her best friend sighed in relief behind her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kaisa asked. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Johanna turned to face the young witch with a bright smile. Since the day they’d met each other in the woods two years before, they’d been inseparable. And Johanna wasn’t about to let that change.

“A three pm curfew is ridiculous and you know it. I’m not letting you go on a cool magical adventure without me, Kai. Besides, they won’t even be home! I’ll be fine.”

Kaisa sighed. She had to admit Johanna’s curfew, as well as every other limitation her parents gave her, were very strict, but how fair something was or not didn’t change the fact that Johanna would be punished if she got caught. At least she knew Johanna was quite good at this: she knew exactly what to do to not be seen having fun. It was around this time in the afternoon that Kaisa got invited over to Johanna’s house to play on most days, since the girl knew her sitter would be too busy watching her soap opera to notice her sneaking another child in the house. Besides, it wasn’t like Kaisa could talk her out of helping her; when Johanna got something in her mind, nobody could stop her.

“If you say so.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to the book she was holding. It was wordy and hard to read even for an adult, but Kaisa rather enjoyed deciphering it. In its pages was all the information humans knew about the Draugen treasure. Tildy had assured her that it wasn’t real, nothing more than an old sailors’ tale, but Kaisa knew it had to be real. Out of the few things her mother had left her, this book was one of them, and Kaisa believed that her mother wouldn’t give her a book filled with made up information.

“So, where are we headed?” Johanna fell in step with Kaisa, trusting her friend to lead the way even if she occasionally had to point out a closed walking sign or stop her from hitting a person or a street lamp. Kaisa could get very distracted when she was concentrating on her books.

“To the harbour.” The witch said with confidence. “And then, to the Draugen treasure.”

_#_#_#_

Things hadn’t been as simple as that. Once at the harbour, the two children had to face the fact that they had no means to go underwater. Johanna knew how to swim, and she even offered to go and get the proof that Kaisa wanted to bring home to her mentor, but Kaisa declined, not only wanting to see the treasure herself but also knowing that no matter how good Johanna was at swimming, she wouldn’t manage to find the shipwreck.

Feeling stuck, she’d sat down on a bolster to think. Nothing in her book hinted at how to actually get to the treasure, she knew so because she knew each word in it by heart, and still she searched the pages hoping an answer would magically appear.

“It’s not too bad if we don’t find it.” Johanna cooed from where she was sitting on the sand. The disappointment in Kaisa’s face was something she didn’t like to see, and it made her want to hug her. “Even if you don’t have any proof to take to Miss Pilkfist… you know it’s true. That’s already enough, isn’t it? Plus, if we wait we’re going to see a gorgeous sunset from here.”

Holding her cheeks between her hands, Kaisa grumbled. “I guess.”

Even though she’d given up, Kaisa continued staring at the book. Until, that is, she heard her friend gasp.

“What a pretty seashell, look!”

On Johanna’s palm there was a pearly white conch shell, its shape a little too perfect for it to be natural. Kaisa hopped from the stone, extending her hand so as to ask Johanna to see it, but the girl didn’t notice. Instead, she chuckled as she took a better look at it.

“It kind of looks like a tiny tuba, doesn’t it?” Saying that, Johanna brought the shell to her lips and blew. Both of them shrieked when it made a sound much louder than they had expected, even the birds from nearby trees flying away in fright.

“What the heck?” Johanna looked to her left to check if Kaisa had also been as surprised by the vibration, but the witch was staring wide eyed at something behind her friend. Turning her gaze to the sea, the girl gasped as she saw a tower of water rise up, with eyes staring right at them. If a being entirely made of water could even look annoyed, Johanna was sure this would be it.

“A water spirit.” Kaisa whispered. “Johanna, you’re a genius.”

Johanna had no idea of what was happening, but given that Kaisa seemed to have she didn’t worry. Instead of running away like she imagined would have been the most logical decision, Kaisa walked closer to the spirit and uttered gibberish. At this point, Johanna had lost count of how many magical languages she’d already heard her friend talking in.

Apparently happy at having been talked to, the spirit shape shifted to the form of a bubble. Kaisa turned back to Johanna with a smile, offering her hand to help her get up from the sand.

“Come on, Anna. We’ve got a treasure to find.”

_#_#_#_

The underwater landscape was something they both knew they’d never forget. Miraculously, the water spirit had taken them, safe and dry, through the sea that connected their city to other far away lands. When Kaisa pointed out a picture in her book that showed a representation of the sunken ship, the spirit had set off to a certain direction without needing any further instruction, which left the two girls free to look at the fish that swam by them and the other strange creatures they couldn’t recognize.

Once they reached the boat, or at least what was left of it, they couldn’t help but stare in awe for a couple of seconds. As soon as the shock of actually having found it wore off of Kaisa, she fist pumped the air. She really had been right, and she’d prove it.

Aside from a single draugen who for some reason didn’t stop sweeping a broom around during the whole time they were there, no one seemed to be guarding the treasure. This allowed them to find the chests the book spoke of, filled with golden items and a variety of other items.

“We could be rich!” Johanna had said, touching the golden coins and chains as soon as the water spirit rolled forward so the chests were inside the bubble.

Kaisa shook her head. “I don’t think we should take any of it. Tildy says it’s never a good idea to steal from the dead. We don’t know what’s up with that Draugen there.” She pointed to the cleaner, who had explained his situation upon their arrival. “As far as we are concerned, he might have been cursed for trying to steal some of the treasure.”

The possibility made Johanna hastily drop the coins she’d been holding.

“Oh.”

“Besides, maybe someone else would like to see this in the future, and I wouldn’t want them to find nothing. “

Following that logic, Kaisa decided to take a chip of wood from the weak shell of the boat. Certainly, that was insignificant enough that they wouldn’t face any repercussions, and it still was something they could take home for her to show her mentor that she’d been right.

They were returned to the harbor by the spirit, who as kind as always nodded them goodbye. Kaisa stared at the spot where it had disappeared, thinking that now she’d have even more motivation to learn to speak Water Spirit. That one seemed like a good friend to have.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, the two of them arrived at Tildy’s home. The sorceress was sitting on her couch, crocheting something out of pink wool, and Kaisa knew she’d felt it when they entered the house even though she didn’t look up.

“Aha!” The girl cried triumphantly, walking up to her teacher and raising the chip of wood above her head. “I told you the Draugen treasure was real, Tildy! We’ve found it, and I can prove it!”

As serene as if she was going through a daily occurence, Tildy lifted her gaze up to her young apprentice and to her friend, who was just beside her.

“How lovely that you found a fun way to spend the day! And welcome, Johanna, I made a cake today thinking about you. Why don’t you put some water in the kettle and we can all eat it while having some tea?”

“Sounds delicious!” Johanna set off to the kitchen, having been there enough times to know where everything was. Kaisa was left standing in front of the woman with an eyebrow lifted.

“Thank you for this, dear.” Tildy said as she took the chip from her hand. “Just what I needed.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You’re not surprised? You believe me?”

“Of course I’m not. And you have always been more of an overachiever than a cheater, so yes, I do.”

“Wait…” Kaisa looked down with a crease between her brows, trying to put the pieces together as the mentor got up from the sofa.

“I do know the treasure is true. But you see, I needed something that belonged to a Draugen for a potion I want to make and that’s not really easy to get! So I thought I could count on you to want to prove me wrong if I said I didn’t believe in it.”

“Tildy!” Kaisa groaned. She wanted to be annoyed or angry but truly? She found her mentor’s behaviour quite amusing. Would she ever manage to outsmart the great arch sorceress, Kaisa wondered.

“Let’s go eat, now. You two deserve your cake.”

_#_#_#_

After eating, Kaisa had offered to walk Johanna back to her house. The days were getting ever shorter, and the wind was icy cold as they walked, but they didn’t care. Being with each other always made the rest of the world fade away, and once again Kaisa was grateful that Johanna had been so insistent on befriending her. They were laughing and shooting the breeze while they walked, until Johanna stopped abruptly and gripped Kaisa’s wrist so she would too.

“My parents are home.” She whispered stiffly, looking at the house’s garage, where there were now two cars. “They will probably have noticed I’m gone by now.”

“I’ll go with you.” Kaisa said immediately. “I’ll… I’ll say I pressured you to leave without supervision.”

Johanna gave her a sympathetic smile. There was evident sadness in her eyes, and she squeezed her friend’s hand.

“That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do and you know it. We’ve been here before. If they think you’re guilty of anything, they will want me to stop seeing you. Turn back now and it’ll be better for both of us.”

Kaisa’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t often that something like this happened, but whenever it did, she was filled by a sense of helplessness before her best friend’s situation. Still, Johanna knew her own parents better than Kaisa did, so she always obeyed.

“Library as soon as you can?” Kaisa asked in a small, hopeful voice, knowing that Johanna’s parents wouldn’t allow her to leave the house at all for a while. It was their arrangement that whenever Johanna got grounded, Kaisa would be in the library at exactly ten in the morning every day until Johanna was allowed to leave, even if followed by her sitter, to tell her she was free to visit Kaisa and be visited by her.

Johanna nodded and let go of her hand, only heading toher house when Kaisa had already begun to walk away, so as to be sure her friend wouldn’t try anything heroic.

Her pace was closer to a run as she went back to Tildy’s. Tears stung at her eyes but she held them back. It wasn’t fair that Johanna would be punished if Kaisa was the one who had asked for company. It wasn’t fair at all. One day, Kaisa thought, she’d be strong enough to save her too.

_#_#_#_

When Johanna asked her how her afternoon had gone, Hilda had had to resist the instinct to say the first lie that popped on her mind. She was being honest now, she reminded herself. In the most calm and casual way she could, she narrated the events she’d gone through while her mother finished preparing their dinner, but it was easy to tell her mother did not approve of most, if not everything, of what she was telling. Her shoulders were visibly tight and her mouth was pursed, and the only reaction Hilda got were grunts. When the story was finished, the woman sighed tiredly.

“Hilda, I… I don’t know what to tell you. Sweetheart, you could have gotten hurt.”

“Mum” Hilda groaned, trying to make herself look taller. Why did her mother think she was so fragile? “I understand you’re scared for me because you just want me to be okay. But I am okay! This wasn’t dangerous, I promise. You had to see Frida, she was awesome! She’s so smart and skilled.”

Johanna took a deep breath as she took the pie away from the oven and over to the table. No, it wasn’t dangerous, at least what Hilda had told her wasn’t. She still didn’t like it, since her own experiences led her to be wary about that situation, but she knew making a storm in a teacup would only make it so Hilda never told her anything.

“You’re right, sweetheart. I just want to tell you to try not to rely on magic for everything. And Frida… she’s your friend, and a good girl, but do not idolize her, okay? She’s just as human as us, and you may not be able to count on her for everything.”

Hilda’s brow furrowed, thoughts about what it was that her mother wasn’t telling her clouding her mind. “She’s my best friend, mum. I know I can count on her.”

Johanna clenched the fist that wasn’t pulling herself a chair.

“I suppose you can. But listen to me on this, I don’t want you seeing the librarian again.”

Now sitting in front of her mother, Hilda blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Anyone who feels this comfortable giving children magic is not to be trusted” Johanna answered simply, making her child sigh.

Getting her mother to trust her judgement would take a while.

#my fic #fic: afs #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

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