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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years ago

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21. Listening to someone's heartbeat? From the intimacy prompts, With Loki/Tony, please? 💜

I could've written a whole story with this prompt! As it is I struggled to keep this near 2,000 words! Thank you for the prompt!

~~~~

Where is this place? What is this place? Loki asked himself for about the millionth time, glancing around the room and trying not to fidget on the hard-backed chair he was sat on. He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to relieve the irritating itch he felt from the collar chafing his neck.

He’d suffered through worse. He could endure this.

‘If looks could kill,’ Mobius mocked.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Well, let’s start with a little cooperation.’

This man knew nothing about him, and Loki had already formulated a plan about how he was going to escape from here, possibly killing him in the process. However, that plan began to unravel the more they spoke, this TVA agent able to strip back every façade, every mask that Loki had constructed around himself.

Only one other person had been able to do that, strip Loki bare and see his vulnerable, true self beneath.

And that man was currently shining on the wall that was playing the movie of Loki’s life.

Loki didn’t react at seeing Anthony again, didn’t give away what they were to each other, feeling himself seethe as an image of them kissing after a battle was revealed.

His greatest secret.

‘A secret Avenger lover! How did you guys manage to hide that? I don’t know which is worse, a hero falling in love with the bad guy who murdered his people…’

Loki clenched his teeth, refusing to speak. It was no one’s business about how he and Anthony had gotten together, what drew them together in the first place. He knew what Mobius was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work. He was going to escape, find the Tesseract, and convince Anthony for once and for all that they needed to leave their worlds behind.

‘Or the man who fell in love with the enemy, giving up his mission for glorious purpose because of a pair of pretty doe eyes.’

Pushing himself up and away from his chair, Loki paced the room, mind trying to think of a way out of this, to protect Anthony, find a way back to him while eliminating whatever threat this was to them both. If the TVA knew about the relationship, something Anthony had taken great pains to hide, then Loki needed to eliminate this threat.

‘What exactly is it that you want?’

‘I want you to be honest about why you do what you do,’ Mobius answered, still calm despite Loki’s growing agitation.

‘Liar!’ Loki called him out.

Even as Mobius gave a passionate speech back, something about wanting to understand him, Loki paid him no attention, gazing at the hideous orange panels on the wall, feeling the squeeze of the collar on his neck.

‘What makes Loki tick?’

The man reached out and tapped the orange ball on his desk, revealing more moments of Loki’s life, the invasion of New York, his shame, his weakness that he’d nearly harmed the one he…cared about in some misguided quest for glory, his true intentions warped by the Scepter.

He needed to get back to Anthony, to explain it hadn’t been him, that he had been beholden to some trick.

That he wasn’t the monster Anthony had needed to stop, led away by Thor in chains and a muzzle until an opportunity presented itself. Loki was forced to witness his shame again from an outsider’s perspective, the haze of blue in his eyes as he’d forced the Midgardians to bow before him.

Had Anthony known that wasn’t him, that he had been controlled? Why hadn’t Thor seen it?

‘I was... I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it'll be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen, or because you or the Time Variance Authority, or whatever it is you call yourselves, allowed me to.’

That wasn’t quite the truth, what Loki truly wanted mingling with the aftereffects of the Mind Stone’s influence, his impatience to get back to Anthony and set things right overriding his rational mind.

Please don’t allow this to change your feelings for me. Please, beloved, please realize it was not me who acted.

‘Honestly, you're pathetic.’ Who was Loki speaking to, the TVA agent before him, or himself?

‘You're an irrelevance. A detour. A footnote to my ascent."

‘If you hadn't picked up the Tesseract, you would've been taken to a cell on Asgard.’

What sorcery is this?

‘What is this? This is nonsense, more tricks. This never even happened.’

‘Not to you, not yet. Look, the TVA doesn't just know your whole past, we know your whole life, how it's all meant to be. Think of it as comforting.’

All his thoughts, his arrogance, his plotting fled as he watched his mother die. For the first time in his life, he was speechless, his desperation making him babble.

‘Where is she?’

‘You lead them right to her,’ the man said, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

‘I don’t believe you. You’re lying. It’s not true.’

He couldn’t be responsible. This was a trick, it had to be a trick.

‘It is true. That's the proper flow of time and it happens again and again and again because it's supposed to, because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it.’

‘Where is she?’ Loki demanded.

What if they have Anthony locked up in his place too? What tricks are they playing on him?

‘Now why don't you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?’ The man asked again, his voice increasing in volume, making Loki feel as though his chest was being squeezed with overwhelming pressure.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Loki paced in agitation.

‘Do you enjoy killing?’

‘I'll kill you,’ the words were hollow, and they both knew it.

‘Like you did your mother? Like how you attempted to kill Thanos and left your lover alone to sacrifice himself?’

His rage that had been steadily building the whole conversation suddenly dissipated, leaving him lightheaded at the swing between the two emotions, a cold fear now scrabbling up his throat, chasing away the burn of his anger.

‘What happened to Anthony?’

‘Who?’

‘Anthony! Tony Stark! What happens to him?’

‘Does it matter? I mean I know he was your secret lover, but he was an Avenger, an obstacle in your-’

‘Tell me!’ Loki screamed, feeling the furious tears burning his eyes, the onslaught of his emotions frightening him.

He’d shown his hand, exposed his feelings for the two he cherished. Loki had known this would happen, that emotions would make him fragile, defenseless. Now he had no way of saving either and had given the TVA what they needed to blackmail him.

‘You care for him that much?’ All the bluster and posturing from Mobius was gone, a genuine curiosity in his face as he watched Loki.

‘I love him,’ Loki admitted, words he’d never uttered to anyone, not even Anthony. ‘Please, I know you have no reason to trust me, that I’m everything you say I am, but please, let me see what happens to him.’

Sighing, Mobius reached into his pocket and pulled out a separate tape, revealing he held it all along. ‘Here…he was a great man, your Tony Stark. I’ve watched how you interact with everyone around you, your enemies, and the ones you pretended not to care for… it was hard not to be moved by Tony Stark.’

Loki wasn’t listening, trying to fumble with the machine, almost snapping his teeth at Mobius when he reached over to take the recording from him and set it up in the machine. He watched the film, waiting for the moment where Anthony’s life had twinned with his own, when Thor had first been banished and Loki had faced the man of iron for the first time.

Their secret meetings Loki initiated because he’d been intrigued by this morally gray Midgardian, their first kiss, their first tumble into bed. Loki treasured those moments, and now they felt tainted with Mobius’s scrutiny, his gaze leaving grubby fingerprints over their memories.

There were other moments, a future Loki still had to discover. The moment Loki finally confessed his feelings, the heartbreak of betrayal Anthony felt from Captain America (Loki threw the chair across the room at that). He watched as the Hulk creature passed on news of Loki’s death, the way Anthony’s sorrow hardened and was reborn as fury, the catalyst for why he launched himself into space after Thanos’s minions.

And then the end, the blaze of glory, standing alone and proud against the Titan, his beautiful mind destroyed under the effects of the Infinity Stones. Loki couldn’t breathe, his chest trying to move in short sharp pants, his teeth gritted against the pain.

No. Not like this.

He couldn’t see past the agony, couldn’t keep his heart beating with the vile poison of the truth. He could feel a hand on his back, a voice trying to call to him.

‘Please, let me go to him,’

‘Loki, I can’t-’

‘Please. You’ve brought me here for a reason. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll do it without question. I won’t escape. I won’t betray you, whatever it is you want, but please…’ Loki trailed off, unable to speak past the emotions webbing in his throat.

‘In all my studies of you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you beg, not sincerely anyway.’

‘You know my…my love for him to be true, that I would not jest about this. Please, Mobius, you have my word, my vow, just please… let me see him.’

‘Ten minutes, that’s all you get. No messing around with the timeline, no giving cryptic warnings. You do anything to divert the timeline Stark is in and I’ll send in a team to prune him and the branch you’ve created, understand?’

Loki didn’t know what pruning meant, but he made an educated guess it had to do with those glow sticks the TVA agents wore and the way they disintegrated the people they stabbed them with.

Nodding, he offered up his hands in a silent plea, sniffing back the tears. Mobius reached out to clasp his hands for a moment, before pointing towards a glowing doorway in the room.

‘Ten minutes and then I’m pulling you out.’

Anthony was asleep in his bed when Loki stepped through, and he rushed over to his bedside, crashing down to his knees as a wounded sound spilt from his lips.

‘You foolish, idiotic mortal, what were you thinking!’ he hissed, the words barely forming sound, not wanting to wake Anthony up or inadvertently cause his destruction. ‘I knew your self-righteousness would be the end of you, that you’d sacrifice yourself in some heroic deed.’ Loki brushed Anthony’s bangs back, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, trying to keep his tears at bay.

He glanced around the room, recognizing it as Anthony’s house in Malibu, no sight of the Avenger Tower. This had to be before New York, before his carnage of Anthony’s homeworld.

‘Lo?’ Anthony suddenly whispered, voice thick with sleep, hands sliding from the bed covers to reach for him. ‘You said…busy…’ he yawned, not entirely awake.

‘I know, dear one, but I made time.’ Loki slid into the bed beside him, taking care to rearrange himself so he could curl around Anthony, protecting him while trying to keep him asleep. He rested his ear directly over the arc reactor, his hand on Anthony’s chest. He could hear the thrum of energy beneath his ear, felt reassured by its continuous sound, knowing it was keeping his mortal alive.

He could feel Anthony’s heartbeat under his palm, never as strong as he liked it, but reassuring enough that Tony was here and alive.

‘I’m sorry. By the Norns, Anthony I am sorry.’

Anthony shifted in his sleep, hugging Loki close and kissing the top of his head.

‘Bad dream, honey?’ he whispered, still sleepy, but trying to comfort him.

‘Something like that. Go back to sleep, darling,’ Loki soothed, hiding the pain in his voice.

He knew what he’d promised Mobius, and his promise to help him stood, but Loki knew he’d twist the intentions of his help to suit his own purposes. He’d find a way to meet these Time-Keepers and bend them to his will. He wasn’t going to lose Anthony to Thanos, would save him from his fate and be together like they deserved.

For now, Loki focused on the sound of his heartbeat, the reassurance he was alive, committing the sound to memory for the next eight minutes.

#frostiron #thank you for the ask!#ask response #tony stark #loki series #loki variant #Loki

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driftmarksnake · 2 years ago

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@fallesto

Never before did he feel so alone.

This was a traffic thing to endure, and he felt as if, all had left him to deal with it himself. That the queen and prince both, where only dead and the conversation had twisted and turned, to the line of succession. He had never before in all of his life, felt so insulted. The council might as well have stood up and struck him over the face several times over. His boy was dead and they were more concerned about what was … going to happen to all of them, with his brother being the only heir left that he had. It was moments like this, that he forgets. The moment he had the crown placed upon his head, everything had changed for him. people looked and spoke to him differently, the man with him, had been a friend … long before he held any true power, even as prince, he had called this man, a close and personal friend. Even when his father was still alive, he was so far down the line of succession, no one ever expected him to sit upon the throne.

The usage of his name, with lack of titles, did not go unnoticed, but a smile did dance upon his lips, that this was a rare conversation, between old friends.

No titles here he felt as he would sit down on the other side of him before the fire. He admired him, truly. The lord of the tides, all that wealth, all that power, the largest fleet the world ever knew and he was not tainted nor corrupted. A great many other men would have drowned with such power, it was good to see another man, such as himself that understood, power and how to use it, wisely. “I must admit, the thought has been on my mind, to retire from here, take a leave and try and heal my wound.” That of the heart, would need time. There was nothing anyone could do here. things would run smoothly with Otto Hightower sitting on the throne for a handful of months surely. Otto knew, grief as well, a friend the same as Corlys, and a close one as well. “Others have made, such offers, but yours is the only one that I feel is genuine.” The rest, only wished to have the claim, that the king himself at graced their halls and castle something to use he felt, to rise their house standing even higher, but he was foolish to think.

That the small council would ever let him leave now, he was needed here, especially now with his brother having been sent on his way. Heir for a day. such a slight and insult, had only made him feel, worse. A king with no heir in sight, no sons and a brother he could no longer trust.

Still it was warming to know, the lord before him was not going to slither away, that … he wished to be here, not because there was anything to gain, though for others, now would be the best time to strike the king when he was sorrow and attach their strings to him. he had to … place his trust in the right people, now that … he was truly a dragon on his own here. “Then let us drink to the past, and to perhaps, better time for us both.” As he took a sip of the wine, he remembered the sea, that castle, when he was a youth, with his cousin running along the shore, good times, better times than this.

“The issues, you are facing, you know, I will aid you, I would not wish anything, to befall you, my cousin nor your children as well.”

𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖓𝖔𝖙, Corlys forgets that Viserys was never meant to rule. So many years bitter and hurt over the idea of his beloved wife having the crown stolen from her right under her nose had curdled a friendship into something vile and envious within his chest. And yet, the lord of Driftmark had never given any thought to the idea if Viserys, ever dutiful and patient Viserys, wanted to be king. He remembers his Targaryen brethren as a young man, more interested in books and the studies of Old Valyria than he had ever been in ruling an entire kingdom. Some men were born for greatness, other were molded. He had not yet divined in which category he could place the now most gracious king in, but he knows it within his heart of hearts that a bad man, he was not. He would not wish his fate upon even his most hated enemy, let alone a man who had once been a trusted friend.

𝕿𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖊 inspired a kindle of hope within his chest. Of course it was genuine, for Corlys did not freely offer his land to anyone, king or not. Driftmark was his second pride and joy, only coming close to his children who were first. Perhaps being surrounded by family and the comfort of the sea was what the king needed to get back on his feet, no matter how much time it would take to heal the wound within his heart. Queen Aemma was one of the most gracious and beautiful queens ever to grace the kingdom and she will go down in history as a beautiful tragedy, taken away from the realm far too soon. "I am glad to know my offer pleases you. There is no need to rush. Take as much time to think about it as you need."

𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖚𝖕 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌'𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖆𝖘𝖙. To hear the promise of a better future and assitance with the Stepstones was a relief he did know know he held within him. Drinking the red wine slowly, he considers that perhaps it is not all bad to strip away decorum every once in a while and speak to others as equals-- as friends-- within the court. And who better to have as a trusted companion and ally than the king of the seven kingdoms himself? "Hear, hear," He replies, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "To the Targaryen family, may their reign be long as it has been glorious."

#fallesto #𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔪𝔬𝔨𝔢 & 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱 (verse eps 1 5)#a couple of years later #corlys: >:( what about the stepstones viserys!!!>?!?!?!

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acraftedmistake · 4 years ago

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A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 14

HAHAAA BACK IN BUSINESS BABY!

Hope you enjoy this one!!

Jesse sat against the broken column by the shrine’s entrance, a breeze brushing against his face. He brought his eyes up, looking at the clear blue sky through the ravine’s crack and listening to the faint conversations coming from inside the shrine. There was nothing for him here.

No answers to Lukas’ whereabouts, nothing about what The Awakening was planning next, the only thing these past few gatherings have given him was discomfort.

Nell was usually the one to talk him into attending each Gathering, but she was sick today. This was his first time coming here alone, and hopefully his last. Being by himself made him even more aware of how everything felt… Off. Whenever members saw him walk in, they’d stop by his seat to say hi and talk about what’s going on, if he was enjoying his visits, simple small talk. However, something everyone seemed too comfortable with was how close they’d get to him. Jesse was never too big on people being near or putting their hands on him, the only exceptions being a quick handshake, a pat on the back from his friends, or Aiden messing with his hair to annoy him. Those were harmless and only lasted a moment. But whenever Jesse would step into the shrine, he'd see a few people’s faces light up as they’d walk over to him with arms open wide, ready to hug him as if they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. They’d pull him close, place their hand on his shoulder as they spoke about their day, and refused to loosen their grip even when he asked. Some people would look genuinely hurt when he pulled away.

There would be nights where these Awakening individuals, Nell included, would spot Jesse on the streets. Those were the worst days. The way they’d look at him with big, bright smiles that stretched from ear to ear, walking up to him and asking if he was coming to this week’s Gathering made him feel terrible. He didn’t want to keep coming, he already felt like he was betraying his own friends, but he was afraid of how the members would react if he refused to return.

He knew the members meant well and were just trying to be nice, at least, that’s what he believed, but they’re all so unaware of how horrible their leaders actually are.

“No, they aren’t called ‘leaders’,” He remembered Nell telling him before one of the Gatherings, “they’re Visions! They look after us.”

Brenner and Mahlon, the ‘Visions’, the individuals who preached about helping others, the individuals who gave guidance to their members and offered their support during trying times were the same individuals who unleashed their horrific lava creation onto the world. They were the same people who took away lives and watched the world burn with no remorse.

They were terrible.

Jesse had watched the older, white haired Vision--the man who had screamed vile curses at him and his friends--happily play with children outside of the shrine. He’d sit on the grass and tell them stories about The Awakening and The Hero after the Gatherings were over. It was so surreal to witness.

The Visions might’ve fooled these misguided people, but they haven’t fooled Jesse. He was waiting for someone, the leaders, Cecil, anyone to slip up and reveal their next scheme, but nothing’s happened yet. If they haven’t hinted at anything these past few weeks who knows how long it’ll take them. Jesse can’t keep coming here forever. Aiden and Olivia had questioned why he’s been leaving the house more often, and who the blonde woman greeting him every now and then was. He knew the excuses: “I just need to clear my head” and “Someone I kinda know” will only last him so long.

Today was going to be his last visit. There was nothing for him here.

“Is all well?” Jesse heard an older man ask. He brought his head up. Standing over him was one of the Visions. Mahlon. The Vision’s head was tilted down slightly, his foggy eye focused more on the broken column rather than the boy below.

“Yeah--Yes, Vision… Sir.” When Jesse spoke the Vision lowered his head more, ‘staring’ more in the direction from where Jesse’s voice came.

“No need to be so formal.” The old man chuckled, “You can call me by my name.” Mahlon said as he sat besides Jesse.

“You’re Jesse, if I remember correctly? Our newest member?” Mahlon asked.

“Right.” Jesse said through gritted teeth, his body stiff as a board. He tried to lean away from Mahlon. Just the thought of being associated with these people made him sick.

“And how are you liking it here?” Mahlon spoke gently, his voice was slightly hoarse.

Jesse answered with a lie, “It’s nice here.” He was afraid of locking eyes with Mahlon. He was half expecting the man’s blindness to be another deceiving trick, but anytime Jesse glanced at him, he saw a genuine look of curiosity on Mahlon’s face, like he wanted to hear more.

The mixture of Mahlon’s pleasant expression and Jesse’s fear of upsetting him prompted him to keep lying. He lied about the new friends he’s made here, how each Gathering had connected with him, and how much their words meant to him. As he kept lying, Mahlon kept smiling. Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off of Mahlon’s burn scar. Most of the old man’s face had been taken over by this fleshy-pink scar that stretched from the bottom left of his face all the way to the top right in a somewhat diagonal manner. The only remaining visible parts of his white, porcelain skin was a small portion where his right eye was, his mouth--where his long, thin white beard covered bits of the scar--and the upper left part of his forehead. Jesse had also noticed that only one of Mahlon’s eyes could open properly while the left one was melted shut. Jesse, admittingly, felt terrible that he couldn’t take his attention away from Mahlon’s distortions. It’s disrespectful--well, it’s not like the old man would ever know where he’s staring, but it was disrespectful nonetheless. The only other feature that would occasionally distract Jesse from the face was Mahlon’s long, white hair which flowed like a candle’s fire in the wind.

Jesse’s kind words sparked a rambling from the old man. Mahlon began talking about everyone’s first visit, how their family welcomes anyone with open arms, the variety of celebrations they’ll have throughout the year to look forward to… These were more words to ��help’ Jesse feel more ‘comfortable’ here, no doubt. As Mahlon spoke, he’d gesture with his hands. The long sleeves of his robe would flow along with his movements. His attire was similar to Brenner’s. Both wore robes that were a deep shade of red. The ends of the sleeves and the bottom of the robe itself were aligned with a golden yellow. Unlike Brenner’s, however, where the bottom of his robe--and the collar around his neck--had a small, triangle slit, Mahlon had none. Instead, he had a hood that was quite difficult to spot due to his thick hair covering it. Another element Mahlon’s robe had that Brenner lacked was a thick, V-shaped golden line around his waist that could be mistaken as a belt. If Jesse really concentrated on the golden parts of the robe he could make out a variety of tiny symbols--mostly being odd shapes and dashes--on them. Their color was only slightly darker than the yellow they were sewn into, making them easy to miss.

In all honesty, the robe was elegant. It was clear so much time and effort was put into making sure this wonderful robe fit this horrible man. Someone so vile doesn’t deserve to wear something so graceful.

“So what is troubling you?” Mahlon asked. “If you’ve been enjoying your time here, then why sit out here all alone?”

“How’d you even know I was out here?” Jesse tilted his head slowly, curious and a little disturbed.

“Cecil, the lad. He told me.”

Cecil. Of course. What else has he been telling the Visions? He’s probably been keeping them updated every time Jesse so much as scratched his head, but now wasn’t the time to get upset. Jesse needed to make an excuse. Any excuse, as long as it was believable.

“I’ve been...” Jesse swallowed, “Thinking about a friend I lost.”

That was meant to be a lie, but it struck Jesse that it’s been nearly a year since Lukas had gone missing. He started to feel queasy.

Mahlon’s smile faded and was replaced by a look of sorrow, “I see.” He said in a whisper.

There was a moment of silence. Jesse hugged his knees, and Mahlon faced forward and stroked his beard.

Mahlon turned to Jesse again and spoke carefully, “I’m terribly sorry about your friend.”

“Don’t be,” Jesse had to force his next words out, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“If I may,” Mahlon said, “I had also lost someone close to me.”

“You did?” The sinking feeling in Jesse’s stomach grew.

“Yes, he was our Sense before you came along.” Mahlon began, “He had been a wonderful friend of mine since I was a boy, and I fondly remember the excitement I felt when I heard the news that he had been selected as my and Brenner’s Sense. We were all overjoyed. Even after our ceremony, where we were expected to remain resilient leaders, it truly felt like nothing had changed between us. We were three friends who worked together and achieved our dreams. Frankly, the whole experience felt like a dream.” He let out a pleasant laugh as he rested his head on his hands. “Antonin and Brenner made the last ten years of being a Vision possibly the greatest years of my life.” There was a sparkle of joy in Mahlon’s eye, “You’d be surprised how short a decade feels when you’re my age. Oh, it all went by so fast.”

Mahlon’s mouth twitched and he let out a sigh, “And perhaps I should have been wiser; spend an extra few minutes talking to him during breakfast, join him when he was training with Brenner, ramble with him in the library for a moment longer. I was so certain time was on my side. I truly thought that nothing bad could have ever happened to him.”

Jesse listened to Mahlon, and how his voice would get lower the longer he went on. It'd crack and shake at certain points of his recollection, and that bit of light in his eye began to fade. A part of Jesse wanted to feel bad, the other wondered just how blind Mahlon was.

Antonin, this ‘wonderful’ man, surely couldn’t have been the same man who was running towards Jesse and his friends the night they were fighting the lava beast. The image of the man’s black hair flying in the air as he was rushing to them, his sword held high, his red cloak torn, and nothing but hatred in his eyes as he screamed bloody murder at them under the smoke-filled sky was fresh in Jesse’s mind. Maybe Mahlon never saw this horrible side of his friend. Maybe he refused to see it.

And then there was that word, “Sense”. Jesse had heard Radar mention the word in the past when referencing The Awakening, he’s also heard that word in passing conversations in the shrine. He remembered Nell telling him all about their ‘community’ one day before a Gathering started, and they soon got on the topic of Cecil. “...He’s also a leader,” Nell had said, “...but he mostly protects the Visions. He’s like their own personal guard.” Jesse could hardly contain his disbelief. He couldn’t believe someone like Cecil was now another leader of the Awakening.

‘What a downgrade.’ Jesse thought to himself. To think the Awakening’s past Sense--a broad madman who was dead set on killing Jesse’s friends when the world was falling apart--had been replaced by some skinny, sickly pale blondie who used to flee from a fight when things became a little overwhelming. Even Cecil’s attire felt less-than compared to the Visions’ and Antonin’s. His red cloak went a bit past his waste and had a golden collar with a small, yellow button keeping the cloak together. There were no fancy symbols on it either--at least none which Jesse could see. It was jarring to see such an uptight, boastful man wear something so… Plain.

“Oh look at me, acting like he’s died long ago.” Mahlon chuckled sadly, “It’s only been a year; minutes for me.”

“You’re a fine boy,” Mahlon fixed his posture and faced Jesse’s direction again, “I’m absolutely certain your friend was just as wonderful a person as you.”

“Thank--” Jesse quickly hid his voice crack with a cough, “Thank you. He was… He was the best.”

“Our bodies may die on this earth,” Mahlon slowly rose, “but our spirits live on in The Hero’s hands.” Mahlon offered his hand to Jesse, “Will you be joining our Gathering today?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Olivia woke up. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She did remember talking with Jess about what happened last night. They were on the bed, both worried about what was happening and about each other. Guess she just… dozed off. She felt well rested at least, that’s always important. What time was it though?

She sat up and ran her hand through her tangled hair before getting out of bed. Olivia dragged her feet across the guest room’s floor to the window and opened the curtains just a sliver. She peaked through the crack, hoping to see the sun and get a vague idea of what hour it was, but instead she was greeted with light gray clouds completely covering the sky. She didn’t see anyone roaming the streets, so hopefully it was still morning. That’s technically evening for Aiden and the others, isn’t it?

She still wasn’t used to this time difference. She didn’t want to get used to it. Her sleep schedule was already weird enough, she could only imagine how horrific it would get if she got adjusted to the hours here. And being active at night… The idea didn’t sound appealing to her at all. She thought back to the times she pulled all-nighters on projects, getting headaches from the bright redstone lamps shining down on her because the Sun had set and needing to leave the comfort of her own home and storm over to the nearest cave to find whatever material she ran out of before mobs would hunt her down. Those nights were the most infuriating, and she shuddered at the thought of living every single day like that. That’d be a life full of inconveniences.

“Hm…” Olivia looked around the guest room. Where was Jess? She would’ve definitely spotted him by now, or he would’ve given her a loud ‘Good Morning!’ from behind that’d always scare the socks off of her back when they used to live in the treehouse together.

The only place she could think of was downstairs. Maybe he’s having breakfast already.

Olivia quietly left her room, making sure to open and close the door carefully so she wouldn’t awaken anyone nearby. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard a faint conversation grow louder.

When she finally reached the end, she peeked over the wall and saw Jess and Aiden sitting together on the couch working on the flint and steel. They still didn’t seem too thrilled with each other, but it was much better than the anger and shouting from last night.

“Morning guys.” Olivia said as she began walking over.

Jess waved at her, “Morning!”

Aiden gave her a stiff “Hey.”, while he continued to focus on the tool.

“Is that the appropriate thing to say?” She asked Aiden, “Can I say ‘Good Morning’? Or do you have a special phrase for this specific time?” She sat down beside Jess, sinking into the couch cushion.

“ ‘Morning’’s uncommon, but it’s fine.” Aiden replied, “Most people usually say ‘Good day’ or somethin’ like that.”

She nodded then leaned closer to the table where the items and notes were placed, “Any progress?” She shifted around, trying to get a bit more comfortable, but felt grainy, sand-like particles stuck to her feet. She glanced at the floor to see redstone powder scattered everywhere. It clinged onto the ends of the couch and got stuck in between the cracks of the wooden boards. That powder was an uncomfortable feeling on the feet and a pain to clean up.

“It was kinda rocky at first, but we’ve figured out the notes with Radar’s help!” Jess started. While he wanted to show Olivia what they’ve accomplished, Aiden was still holding onto the flint and steel with one hand, and reading a page of notes in the other, so he decided to let Aiden be. “We coated the fire striker with redstone powder. It actually stuck to the metal pretty well, but we’re still being careful whenever we place it down. We also figured out we need to make this weird mish-mash of a gold and netherrack base? Mold? Something to fit the flint in--” Jess went on to describe their plans on how they were going to create a mold out of such odd materials when suddenly Aiden interrupted.

“Olivia,” He finally spoke up, “I--I’m sorry about last night.” He gripped the flint and steel so tightly he was afraid it was going to break. “I should’ve controlled myself better--I shouldn’t have told Jesse about you. I shouldn’t have even mentioned you.” He shot up from the couch and was fidgeting with the tool now. He kept running his free hand through his hair, not caring about the red powder getting tangled up with the strands. “I put you and Jess in danger when I just wanted to help. I know--” He swallowed, “I know you’re not from this universe, you’re not really my friends, but I still want to protect you. I wanna help get you outta this mess I started.”

Olivia stopped and stared at him for a moment, surprised by this sudden apology. She slowly clasped her hands together and blinked. “Aiden…” She said quietly, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She didn’t realize how comforting that apology was. Even if the situation was looming over them, things felt a little better.

“We’ll figure a way out of this together.” Jess added in. “And uh…” He glanced at Olivia then at Aiden, “Yeah, I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday too.”

“No, you two don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Aiden pointed at Jess as he placed the tool on top of the papers.

“But I could’ve handled things better.” Jess mumbled and went silent for a moment. “Aiden, I know you want to protect us, but we’re able to help. We don’t need to be locked in here and supervised like children. We’ve saved the world--multiple worlds--multiple times. We can help! Heck, I’m the mayor of an entire town!” He exclaimed.

“I sometimes forget about that unfortunate fact.” Olivia commented, a little smirk on her face.

Jess turned around with his eyebrows raised high. He actually looks a bit offended by her joke. “And what do you mean by ‘unfortunate’?”

“Like I could forget the time you tried to decorate Beacon Town with lava-falls for Halloween.” She kept that playful but devious expression on. She propped one leg up and rested her arm on her knee, “You nearly burnt down a good third of the buildings.”

“I put it out!” Jess felt his face turn a light shade of pink. “Plus I was following Ivor’s advice! So the Halloween Incident was technically his fault!”

“Oh sure, blame the senior citizen.” Olivia chuckled. Aiden snickered along. Jess turned even more red as he tried to think of a witty comeback, but all he could do was give her a light shove then turn away, folding his arms and pouting like a little kid as he struggled to hold back his own laughter.

“Alright, but seriously.” Aiden was finally relaxed, “I was just worked up when I said that. We can take you two outta the house and wherever you need to be as long as you hide your faces well enough.” He went to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make myself some coffee. You two want any?” He looked back at Jess and Olivia.

“Yes please!” Olivia said.

Jess shook his head, “I’m alright, thanks though.”

Aiden took out a small saucepan and placed it under the sink. He turned the faucet on and kept an eye on the water’s level.

“Actually…” Jess perked up, “Speaking of lava, what did that lava monster you guys fought look like? I’ve been thinking about it ever since you’ve brought it up.”

“Now that you mention it,” Olivia said, patting down her frizzy hair, “I’ve been pretty interested as well.”

“Oh jeez.” Aiden sighed as he turned off the water and brought the pan to the stove. He turned the heat to medium high, the knob making faint clicking sounds with each number he passed. “Man, we could only stare at that thing for a couple of seconds or our eyes would’ve melted off.” As the water slowly began to heat up, Aiden turned to a higher cabinet and swung it open.

“I knew it had a couple of eyes and a bunch of arms.” He pushed aside a few items and stopped when he spotted a small, crinkled, light blue bag.

“How many?” Olivia asked.

“Hero if I know.” Aiden let out a laugh, “More than five. It’d drag itself around with them, one arm would merge into another, and then when that thing brought one of it’s limbs back into the air--” He raised one of his arms over his head attempting to recreate the motion, “--you could see the arm split up into two or three more. And when it’s claws would hit the ground it’d send rocks and magma flying everywhere.” He splayed his fingers out, “I know a good chunk of forests burnt down, and some houses in nearby towns too, unfortunately. The library almost got hit too!” He explained while he opened and closed multiple drawers, trying to look for something.

“And the sound. Sweet Hero, the sound. It’s one of those things I’ll probably never forget. I sometimes hear it in my dreams.” He finally spotted what he was searching for--a tablespoon--and closed the drawer. He opened his bag of coffee, scooped up a hefty spoonful of powder, and added it into the pan, getting a bit of the powder on the kitchen counter. “So it’d start off real low, right? Almost sounds like a rumble, but then it’d open it’s mouth more and more until it’d let out this roar that left us deaf for nearly a minute!” He added a few more tablespoons into the water and began mixing the contents together, “Hadrian told us the sound was enough to shake the buildings, and that it’s body was so bright they thought it was day! He and Mevia used to travel the world a ton and they told us they’ve never seen anything like that creature before.”

“That’s insane.” Olivia’s eyes were wide. “That thing sounds just as dangerous as Ivor’s Witherstorm.”

“Tell me about it.” Jess was thinking about what such a beast would look like. Multiple eyes, a giant mouth, enough strength to shake the earth with each step it took. He could only imagine how horrendous the damage must’ve been, the smoke that filled the air with the fires it caused, the ashes flying everywhere, it was probably hot enough to melt a person’s skin off if they were unfortunate enough to stand too close.

“Now,” Aiden said as he tossed the tablespoon into the sink, “how bout that Witherstorm of yours? What was that like?”

Jess thought it was only fair to share their tale now. He went into detail about how the Witherstorm happened in the first place, how it kept following them and destroying everything in it’s path, how they had to travel across the world to create a weapon strong enough to destroy it, only for that plan to fail and leading to Jess having to kill it from the inside. This soon led to Jess going off about Ivor and The Order of the Stone, the Ender Dragon, and how Jess and his friends discovered the truth about them. Every now and then when Jess would mention the names of people he’s met, he’d ask Aiden if he’s ever interacted with them in this universe. Aiden needed their physical appearance to be described to get a good idea of them, but most of his answers were usually: “Don’t know them.” or a “I think we might’ve met ‘em?”. The only names Aiden seemed familiar with were Isa, Harper, and Otto. There was a big maybe on Gabriel and Soren.

“Hadrian and Mevia might’ve known them, honestly.” Aiden said at one point, “They’ve met a ton of people when they were ramblers.”

As Jess and Olivia kept going back and forth talking about the Admins, White Pumpkin, and everything else they’ve experienced, Aiden would listen along and chime in with similar situations he and his friends went through. His reactions were definitely mixed when he learned about their Cassie Rose and what she’s done. There’d be points where all he could do was laugh over how bizarre the situation sounded, and other instances where he couldn’t react at all because of how… Unstable Jess and Olivia’s Cassie Rose seemed. Aiden eventually came back into the living room with two cups of fresh, hot coffee in his hands. He sat beside Jess and placed one of the cups on the table for Olivia. She gave him a quiet thank you as they both continued to listen to Jess’ stories.

Jess was sharing his experiences out of order, but he was finally telling Aiden about Hadrian and Mevia. How they ran these twisted games and how he thought Lukas and Petra were killed right before his eyes--when suddenly Aiden jerked forward and choked on his coffee.

He hurriedly placed his cup down--spilling a bit of his drink--and broke into a coughing fit. Jess patted his back a couple of times to try and help him.

“You--your friends with Lukas in your universe?” Aiden asked between coughs.

“Yeah,” Jess answered, “I thought we--” He froze. Oh no. They never… Did they never tell Aiden that they knew Lukas in their universe? Or maybe they did--but did they never mention that they were all friends?

“And he’s alive?” Aiden said, his voice a touch raspy from the strain.

“Yes--absolutely! He’s still in one piece! We met cause of the Witherstorm and got real close throughout all those adventures.” Jess was speaking so fast, “Argh, I’m sorry, I thought I told you this.” How could he forget to tell Aiden something as major as this? Especially after Aiden had told him all about the struggles he and his friends went through after their Lukas went missing.

“No, don’t be. I probably--” Aiden stopped to cough again, “I probably forgot. I sorta remember you mentioning I kinda sucked in your universe.” He grinned. There was a sad look in his eyes. “But are Lukas and I… Are we friends there?”

Jess didn’t answer for a second. In that second he thought back to Sky City; the hatred and disgust in Lukas’ eyes whenever he had to face or even acknowledge Aiden. He thought about the many letters their Aiden had sent over that Lukas threw away. He remembered Lukas’ curious expression contorting to pure anger when Jess had mentioned Aiden wanting redemption. He doesn’t--

“Oh, absolutely!” Olivia lied. “Sure you guys hit a couple of rough patches here and there, especially after the whole Sky City incident, but you two made up!”

Jess went along, “You two live pretty far away from each other, but I know you and Lukas like to hang out at this one restaurant at least once a month to catch up.”

“The Shulker Spices?” Olivia made up the restaurant’s name on the spot.

Jess snapped his finger, “Yeah, that one! Great stuff.”

“That’s good to hear… That’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in a while.” The soft smile on Aiden’s face faltered for a moment. Sure, he looked relieved, but Jess felt terrible. He hated flat out lying like this, but there was no way he was going to crush Aiden with the truth, and it’s not like he’ll ever know. They did the right thing. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Aiden’s body loosened and he let out a long sigh. “It’s been rough ever since he went missing.” He admitted, “Jess, you got a lotta good things back in your universe. Your friends are all still there, you’ve been able to take down any problems comin’ at you… I bet the people there must love ya.”

“But… Your friends love you too, don’t they?” Jess asked, gently placing his hand on Aiden’s back.

“Yeah--I didn’t mean to--of course they do!” Aiden quickly lifted his head back up, “And… You know…” His face got a little red, “I love ‘em too.”

Aiden went to grab his coffee to have another sip, “But you two need to get back to your universe. Once Rose comes back we can finish that flint and steel and get you two home.”

“Cassie’s still gone?” Olivia sounded concerned.

“She’ll be alright.” Aiden said, gesturing with his mug. “I know she can handle herself in extreme places like the Nether, but if she doesn’t come back by the end of tomorrow, we’ll have to hunt her down.”

The three sat on the couch, motionless for a minute, and couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about, so Jess and Olivia decided to finally make themselves breakfast. Jess helped himself to a couple of eggs; preparing a pan to scramble them in while Olivia mostly searched throughout the kitchen for ideas. She didn’t know what she was craving, she just knew she was hungry. As she scanned the contents of the pantry, something struck her.

“Sort of on the topic of questions, or--well, things about other universes…” She fumbled with her words as she reached inside to grab a small container of oatmeal, “I was wondering if there’d be anyway to, uh, see my place of death--my grave. If--if I have one.” She immediately held her breath after asking that question. She knew this was undoubtedly a personal thing to ask, but she’s been wanting to know for some time. She didn’t know when to ask before, and--and this felt like her only chance. She glanced at Aiden to see if he had heard her. He was staring right back at her, frozen in place with his coffee inches away from his face. His mouth was stuck open like he was in disbelief over what Olivia had just asked. Olivia even caught a glimpse of Jess being just as off guard by her question.

“I--We don’t--” Olivia stammered. She quickly turned away from the boys and tried to hide her face behind the pantry door, “We don’t have to! I understand if you don’t want to!” She said, “It might be dangerous to go outside anyways, I don’t mind if you describe it instead--”

“Is that what you wanna do?” Aiden asked, the energy of his voice absent compared to what it sounded like minutes ago. He set his cup aside and headed to the kitchen. To Olivia.

“Only if you think it’s safe.” Olivia’s voice was shaky. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. She shouldn’t have asked.

“If we go together,” Jess spoke up, “and hide ourselves, we should be alright.” He wanted to try and be supportive, but even he wasn’t too sure about this.

“Right.” Aiden said, focusing on Olivia. He folded his arms, “We’d have to do it soon. Today might be your only chance. If that’s where you want to go, I’ll take you there.”

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm olivia #mcsm aiden #mcsm jesse #mcsm mahlon #APWHNPMCSMWASAMCSM #UH super quick rambles but thank u to all the people who have been patient with this story!!#i was always real used to makin chapters like 10.000 words or more . especially when i was in the zone #and i always tried to put some big ol event to make things interesting #that i kinda gave myself this weird pressure that every chapter HAD to be like that or it'd be boring #or if i didn't reach this certain word amount i'd 'failed'#n writing just kinda became intimidating and i didn't know how to approach it for a while #things got better after some time gfdsfesdfgsf #just took some time to move away from those stupid standards i had set up for myself rip #but now!!!!!#writing again!!!!#thank u for tuning into tags and hope u enjoy story!!

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bitchfitch · 4 years ago

Text

Because, That's How The Stories Always Go

Count this a prolog, or a self contained tragedy.

An adventuring party lead by the fated hero of this land trecked across the scorched earth beneath the red moonlight. The smell of rot and char and burned blood filled the searing air between the cragly cliff faces. Twisted roots and branches, now more charcoal than wood caught on their clothes and gear as they pushed on ward down this path towards their shared destinies. The cracking and snapping as each delicate piece of destruction as it fell from its trunk joined the marching footsteps through the cinder and ash.

Twisted approximations of people and animals shambled in the distance, barely hidden by the thick, putrid yellow of the sulphurous smog that drifted from cracks in the ground. The Villain's influence burned all around them and twisted the world and everything in it to match his hellish nature.

This was once an idealic place, a sprawling verdant valley with a beautiful white stone castel at its center. That was where the princess, the beautiful and noble future queen of this land, had been sent to keep her safe from the encroaching vile destruction rought at The Demons Kings hands. Only for his forces to have invaded this land and taken her hostage as a putrid bid for power.

They had demanded that the true and righteous king give up the land their bile had seeped into in exchange for his only child's life. In bloody ink and spat words The Villain had threatened to kill her and feed her to the the six eyed bull-wolf monster that stood at his right hand, or crueler yet, to make her the beasts wife, or perhaps even his own if he was feeling particularly mean, if his demented demands were not met.

The Hero and his party trudged onward, ever closer to the center of this plight. To the princess, to her captor, to the Villain of this story. Unbeknownst to them though, their every step was being watched by the burning crows that cawed and croaked overhead, their ruby eyes cutting through the smog to track every step.

---

The Villain watched from within his throne room, the simple dark metal hand mirror that acted as his view to this scene was clutched tight in his white knuckle grip. He kept his sholders square as he watched the march, his face neautral, but he knew what was coming.

His hands shook, his gut turned itself inside out, the fire that ran in his veins seemingly died and left him cold to his very core.

He flicked his wrist to change the view, a final check over of everything he'd built. His people cowered from the path they had suspected the Hero and his party would take, their store rooms were full, their defenses ready. The Villain tried to unclench hks jaw, they were all so scared. They were all in so much danger.

He had to protect them. That was what he promised to do. To keep them safe from a world that scorned their ilk. He had failed so spectacularly. How many had died to protect this infant kingdom? How many had nobly, foolishly, bravely, stood between The Hero and The Villain? How many had been slain? How many would be in the aftermath of this? Would there be another cull? How many parents would live just long enough to see their children die?

They were in danger, and it was his fault. He wasn't strong enough, or clever enough. He wasn't enough to keep them safe.

But, maybe, just maybe he could buy them time. Allow another fire wrought ruler to take his place as protector. To keep them all alive just a little bit longer.

A hand, Heavy and bulky rested on his shoulder, only his thick cape kept it from being burned as his turmoil made his skin glow with searing heat.

"Minion," The Villain said as he set aside the mirror, turning to look at the goliath of a monster he called his best friend, "Promise me something," His own hand came to rest on the back of Minion's, spindly stark ash white fingers that were barely cool enough to stand, against shiny and thick black and rust red fur,

"Anything," Minion said without thought, "But know I am bad at promises," His voice was heavy, a deep baritone that rumbled through his chest, carryimg the sorrow that was held their out with it,

"Be a better king than I was," his own voice was cold, all the fire gone from it. He had done his mourning alone in his private rooms earlier, with one of Minion's shirts clutched tight to his chest. Now he just needed to be strong one last time,

"You ask impossible things of me," Minion snorted his almost pitch black eyes found the Villain's fire blues, "I can stay, We could fight them together-" he was always earnest, but now the force behind his conviction could burn hotter than even The Villain could,

"Then we would both be killed, and I would spend my last moments grieving," Villain sighed. He's seen his friend fall to those heros too many times to have any hope that he would survive another encounter. Villain wouldn't allow his own selfish desire to not be alone while facing his execution be what kills Minion.

Villain pulls his hand away, before slowly reaching with both to remove the crown from his head.

It was a circle of twistend and melted sword blades that he had forged for himself when he declared himself future king of this land, blood drenched and victorious. The tarnish on its surface evaporated as it turned red then white hot. The hard metal melting in his heated hands as he shaped it. The circle had fit him perfectly, it would sit nicely just behind his horns as a twisted accent to them. But it would have been far too small for Minion's skull. So he bent and twisted it until it was perfect again, now a half circle that could rest above his broad horns without interfering with his bovine ears or the pair of eyes that sat the highest on his face.

"Take this and go to your people, my friend, give them my apologies and your strength," He spoke while he finalized the shape, "If you do not think you can be a better king than I, then at least promise to be one that sees happier times and many, many more years," He took a breath before turning to look his friend in the eye, "Now kneel for me one last time,"

Minion's breath was choppy as silent oily tears stained the sides of his muzzle. Still, he knelt before the throne with his head bowed, not another word passing between his fangs. Even like this, hunched forward on one knee, he was almost a full hand taller than Villain.

Villain sapped the heat from the crown, setting it into its new shape and cooling it enough to not burn as it was placed, "The land shall recognize its new king," he set it between Minion's horns, his hands hesitating for a moment before drifting from the now cold metal to cup the sides of Minion's face, the fur here beneath his six eyes was silk beneath the former king's fingers.

Memories flooded him of the days spent with a pair of scissors between them as they tried to tame the thick beard that seemed determined to make a home here against Minion's wishes, and the laughter as they struggled to clean up the choppy edges, and the unavoidable bald spots that always cropped up do to Minion's inability to sit still, and Villain's imprecision.

"The people shall love you as much as I do," He brushed the tears away as Minion shook with a barely contained sob.

How many times have they spoken their love to each other? Whispers of desire hidden behind their genuine and iron strong friendship,

"You shall be victorious in all you attempt," Villain guided his friend to lean forward just enough for Villain to press a barely there kiss to the top of his snout as he passed on his final blessing before stepping away,

"Go now, go to your people and keep them safe. When you return… Let someone else handle the mess you will find, I couldn't bare to know I left you to sob over my corpse," Villain said, he sat the throne again, decidedly careful to look anywhere other than the hulking and devastated beast before him. He needed to be strong. He couldn't cry. Not now, not ever again.

Eventually Minion stood, his hooves scraping against the stone floors, "Rest well, when it happens." He said with shaky words, "You will be remembered, I will make sure of it," with that final promise he turned and left. Only stopping at the door to say one last thing before shutting the Villain in this tomb, "I love you,"

The door shut, the sound echoing theough the room like a thunder clap as the Villain's composure broke. He wiped at his eyes, furious with the hot red streaks that were surely staining his skin. No, no, no.

He needed to be strong. He needed to do this. He couldn't break now. Couldn't run to Minion and sob into the fur on his friends chest. Villain was always going to die. He was always going to be defeated by his fated enemy. But still, fear pulled at every inch of him.

He sobbed into his hands, staining his palms blood red. He had everything he ever wanted. A kingdom that was thriving, people that respected him, friends, a home, someone that he'd carve his own heart out for. And none of that mattered.

Because He would be dead before sunrise.

Because, thats how the stories always go.

#my writing #I accidentally tripped onto some good characters back in october lmao #I dont know if this is something I'll ever finish tbh #but if i do itll go on ao3 probably

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straycat-writes · 5 years ago

Text

l’appel du vide (nakahara chuuya)

l’appel du vide (french n.) - “the call of the void”; the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

requested by: anonymous

warning(s): Alcohol, swearing

You sighed as you dropped into bed with a dull thud. The clock on the bedside table blinked 2:00 AM, and after the incredibly long day you had just had, you wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and not emerge for a full 24 hours. That, apparently, was not to be, however. You were teetering on the edge of sleeping and waking, just about to fall asleep, when your phone began to ring on the bedside table.

Mumbling a curse under your breath, you sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes. You reached for your phone, your bleary vision not allowing you to check the caller ID as you picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“(Y/n), hey!!!” said a slurred male voice from the phone, “How are you, baby??”

You blinked, then frowned, “…Chuuya?”

“Who else?” he said cheerily from the other end, before letting out a string of vile curse words as you heard something crash loudly in the background.

You sighed, already feeling a headache coming on, “Why are you calling so late, Chuuya? And are you drunk?”

“I just wanted to hear my darling’s voice, is that too much to ask for?” he whined, “And yes, I mayyybe be a little tipsy, but that has nothing to do with it.”

“Not your darling.” You muttered under your breath as you frustratedly threw off the covers and got off the bed, searching for your keys, “Where are you?”

In Chuuya’s vocabulary, ‘a little tipsy’ meant ‘wasted off my ass and on the verge of passing out’, and whatever history the two of you might have had, you couldn’t leave him be when he was like that.

He paused, as if to consider what to say, “So-somewhere…drinks…bar…I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, “You know what? Nevermind, there’s only one place you frequent anyway. Just…stay there. I’ll be there in a few.

True to your words, five minutes later, you were in your car driving towards Chuuya’s favourite bar in the dead of the night. You ran a hand through your hair, muttering to yourself in frustration, “Why, why, why did this idiot call me of all people?”

It had been a month since you had seen him last. All you remember of that last encounter was a lot of screaming and yelling at each other interspersed by strings of curse words before the inevitable ‘I want to break up’ came. You didn’t even remember which one of you had been the one to say it, but frankly, it didn’t matter. It had been said, and that was that. You had completely cut yourself off from him after that, in order to wallow in your sorrow alone and in peace, and as much as it pained you to think about now, the thought of how Chuuya might be holding up hadn’t really crossed your mind.

The answer to that was obviously ‘not good’, as it became apparent once you parked your car outside of where you thought he might be and went inside. Chuuya was getting chastised by the bartender, but he didn’t really seem to be listening, instead looking spaced out and smiling like an idiot. In hindsight, you should have seen this coming. Chuuya has never been too good at dealing with stressful situations, and only has two sorry excuses of coping mechanisms: destroying something or getting drunk off his mind. When he saw you, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“(Y/n)!!” he trilled, “You’re here.”

Choosing to roll your eyes in favour of gracing his wasted ass with an answer, you went up to him and tried to get him to stand on his own two feet. After apologizing profusely to the bartender on Chuuya’s behalf, you managed to half lead, half drag Chuuya back to your car. You dumped him unceremoniously into the passenger seat before getting in yourself. But instead of starting the car, you just sat there for a while, arms resting on the steering wheel and head resting over them. How did we even get here?

Back when the two of you had still been together, you used to think you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That was before everything went wrong. It was no one’s fault, really, and after a month of shutting yourself away, bingeing on ice-cream and crying yourself to sleep, you had just about convinced yourself it wasn’t meant to be, and that you were both better off away from each other.

But then this bastard decided to drunk dial you in the middle of the night, and here you were.

You felt a slight tug at your hair and looked up to see Chuuya twirling a lock of it in his fingers, “I love your hair. It’s beautiful.”

“Shut up, Chuuya.” You muttered, moving his hand away from your hair as you started the car.

“But I want to talk!” he whined, before quietly adding, “I missed you so much.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, but you willed yourself to keep driving, “Just…please shut up.”

When he didn’t say anything for a while, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His head was resting against the window, eyebrows scrunched up as he stared outside with a very displeased expression on his face. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to.

There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days, which he probably hadn’t, and your heart clenched in your chest. You knew Chuuya had little in the way of self-care habits, but you hadn’t thought it would get this bad. Any third person looking at the two of you would have immediately pointed out that the look of exhaustion on his face mirrored the one on yours, but the thought never occurred to you.

“Just what the hell have you been doing to yourself?” You mumbled quietly to yourself, not really expecting him to answer.

He heard you though, even through his drunken haze, and let out a bitter laugh. It sounded almost sober, and that surprised you enough to look over at him again. His eyes were glassy and rimmed with red as he looked at you, and even though he definitely wasn’t sober, he looked slightly more in possession of his wits.

“The past month has been the worst in my life.” He said after a while, “Hell, I haven’t got so pissed drunk since that shitty Dazai left.”

You sighed in frustration, “And what do you want me to do about it? I’m the last person you should be coming to.”

“Maybe. Probably.” He mumbled, “At this point, I’m really not sure what I should be doing. I…wish you’d just listen to what I have to say.”

“Listen to what you have to say? There’s nothing left to be said, Chuuya.” You said, getting increasingly distressed as you tried to keep your eyes on the empty road, “It’s done and over with, and just when I thought I’d come to terms with that – “

“I know, I know.” He interrupted, a strange kind of desperation lacing his voice, “But will you please, please just hear what I have to say?”

As if I have a choice, you wanted to say, but didn’t, and he took your silence as a yes.

“I miss you, (y/n), so much. And I know it doesn’t…doesn’t mean…much to you, but I’m so sorry.”

You snorted at that, and he fixed you with an incredulous look. You shook your head.

“I really am, and I – I don’t know what I was thinking, I just – “

“Chuuya.” You interrupted, “You’re just rambling nonsense now. Just…shut up, we’re almost at your flat.”

He sighed, “I…I guess I was just afraid.”

“Afraid?” That had piqued your interest, and the question was out before you could think the better of it.

He was hesitant at first, but then nodded, “Being with you…it felt – felt like walking the edge of a cliff. Not in a bad way, of course, but it felt so…foreign, I guess you can say. I have never been so utterly and completely in love with someone, and I knew if I accepted that and fell over the edge, you would be right there to catch me. So that’s not what scared me…”

You were listening to every word that tumbled out of his mouth with the utmost attention, partly because you were genuinely curious, and partly because you knew he would never talk this openly if he were sober. So, even though some of what he said hurt, you listened.

“What scared me was that…I…I often found myself actually wanting to…jump off that metaphorical cliff. Each time I realized what I was thinking, I would be horrified, because…well, it meant letting myself go, and you know that doesn’t have any good connotations for me. I didn’t know if I should, if it was the sensible thing to do, or even the right one, but…I don’t know if you’ll understand, (y/n), but being so completely in love with someone that you want to completely hand yourself over to them is…frightening, to say the least.”

All this time, you had been listening to him in mute wonder, not wanting to interrupt whatever trance he seemed to be in. He got scared and left you…because he loved you too much?

When you didn’t say anything, he cursed under his breath, “Damn it, this is harder to explain than I thought it would be. I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”

“What? No, it’s just…” You wanted to say you understand, you really did, but you weren’t sure if that was quite true. By now, the two of you had reached his flat, and you parked the car in front of his building, looking over at him frowning.

“Shit…I’m sorry, I just…fuck!”

“Chuuya.” You interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Chuuya! Look at me. Calm down.”

He sighed, then looked over at you with sad, red rimmed eyes, “It’s just…I’m sad. I’m sorry. I suck. I love you.”

Neither of you said anything for a good two minutes after that, just sitting in the car and listening to each other breathe. Then you sighed.

“Well, you’re certainly very eloquent for someone as pissed drunk as you are.”

He blinked at you, confused, “What?”

You shook your head and smiled at him, a thin, watery smile that dripped with sadness, but a smile nonetheless, “Let’s get you inside.”

You weren’t even sure if he’d remember any of this in the morning, or if he really did feel the way he had just described, so scared to love you, to be in love, that he pushed you away. You had no idea how to handle this, and the ache in your head just kept getting sharper and sharper. For a moment, you even caught yourself thinking that maybe it’d be better if he didn’t remember anything in the morning. That way, the both of you could go on living your lives as if nothing happened. But could you live with such a big ‘what-if’ hanging over your head?

As you drove back home in the dead of the night, after putting him to bed, you decided you weren’t ready to find the answer to that question yet.

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #drabble #scenario #event prompt #l'appel du vide #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #imagines #bsd #straycat's 1k follower celebration

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another-fucking-spinel-blog · 5 years ago

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You’re Beautiful I’m Afraid

Trigger Warning!: Self harm, mild nudity (underwear), negative thoughts

PLEASE do not hesitate to ask me to tag anything else if need be!

Inspired by this song!

ALSO a huge thank you to @chaotic-spinel for making some lovely audio for this!! Please go check them out!!

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

Observing every lump and roll that made up your figure. Your eyes tracing every curve. Fat made its way down your body like wet clay. The brand new bra you had bought looked like wire around baking bread. Disgusting. That’s all you could think. Gross. Revolting. Nauseating. Such a shame too, you thought to yourself. It was such a cute bra, black and lacy with a cut out shaped like a cat at the top of your chest. It even came with a matching pair of underwear. The pair was on sale so naturally you ended up buying it for yourself whilst out shopping. You wanted to impress your girlfriend, Spinel, or maybe even surprise her with something special. Those thoughts were completely shut down however, when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Desperate to find some sort of attractive feature you had, something, anything! Ugly. Atrocious. Hideous. You grabbed at your belly, watching as it moved like putty. This was just your stomach. Your arms were chunky too and your thighs could feed a village. Your body was also littered with stretch marks. Like vines, they crawled their way up your frame as if trying to consume you.

You looked back up to your face. Looking yourself in the eyes with hatred and hints of sorrow. You hated yourself for numerous reasons. This just being one of them. Your mind began to spiral down, down, down. A knot forming in your throat. Your vision began to blur and your eyes burned as they filled up with hot tears. Awful thoughts were swarming your mind and your body began to itch. The urge to scratch at yourself was overpowering. You had always made sure to stay on top of keeping your nails short, just in case you had another episode. Like right now. But that didn't mean you couldn’t still do some damage.

You started to scratch at your collar bone. The friction causing your skin to turn red. The horrible thoughts didn’t stop. Each cutting deeper than your nails ever could.

“Look at yourself! You’re so disgusting!”

“Revolting slob!”

Your stomach ached and begged you for nutrients. You had a horrible habit of going hungry for days at a time.

“Vile! Hideous! Sickening!”

“How could anyone love you?”

“Unworthy”

Hot tears trailed down your cheeks and you squeezed your eyes shut. You scratched at every part of you that you hated. Your arms were next. You shook violently, you knew what was coming. You couldn’t breathe. Your legs were numb. You could barely feel it as your nails dug into your flesh like wet paper. You prayed to whatever god was out there to make it stop but to no avail. The words came anyway. You braced yourself for the finishing blow.

“How could Spinel ever-” “Hey hun, you doin’ alright?” The world froze and everything became silent. Your eyes snapped open and you turned to Spinel who was now standing in the doorway of the bathroom. You stared at each other for what felt like hours. Shock written on both of your faces.

“I,,,” Spinel said, finally breaking the silence. “I thought you might be hungry after you got back,,, so I tried to make you a sandwich but,,,” She trailed off, distracted by your abused skin. “A-are you,,, ok?” That was it. Your knees buckled making you crumple to the floor with a loud sob. Spinel was immediately by your side. Arms wrapping around you multiple times and pulling you close. You tried to apologize but the words were caught in your throat. Spinel just shushed you and rubbed her hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. Letting you get everything out before you were ready to explain.

Finally, you were beginning to calm down. Throat soar and still mildly shaking, you apologized again.

“I’m sorry Spinel. I’m so sorry!” Tears threaten to spill out again.

“For what [Y/N]??” Concern in her voice as she spoke. She was becoming a bit more worried.

“For being so,,, so,,, SO UGLY!” You finally shout, clasping a hand over your mouth quickly afterwards. You felt sick and another sob wrenched it’s way out of you. Spinel’s silence was deafening and finally you couldn’t take it anymore and looked up at her. The genuine confusion on her face was mildly comforting you had to admit.

“W-what? I don’t,,,” She asked absolutely bewildered. You caved and the dam broke as you began to explain everything. The bullying you endured in elementary through highschool. The people who turned their back on you because of how you looked. The lost friendships. The horrible coping mechanisms you’ve picked up. How you had a tendency to starve yourself for days on end. How you would binge on junk and the miserable feeling of guilt afterwards. How sometimes just the thought of eating made you sick. How it had gotten so bad that you avoided mirrors just so you wouldn’t have to look at yourself. Everything, you told her everything, until there was nothing left to tell.

Spinel tightened her hold around your shaking form. Her heart breaking at the sight of you. You, [Y/N], the person she loved more than anything, torn to pieces by something as small as appearance. She cupped your face with both of her hands, lifting it up so you would look her in the eyes. Filled with compassion and tenderness.

“[Y/N], [Y/N] listen to me.” Her voice breaking just the slightest as she tried to fight back her own tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. And nothin’ ‘n this world or ‘n any other world could ever change the way I feel about you. I love you ok? Hey hey look at me! I love you so much, sometimes I just want to squeeze you. I know you can’t see it now but, please, trust me when I say you are perfect. Just the way you are. You don’t need to change yourself for me. Or for ‘nyone else for that matter! And ya know what? I’d still love ya no matter what you’d look like.” She wiped away a stream of tears with her thumb and smiled gently. It was hard to look her in the eyes, but from her voice alone, you could tell she truly meant what she said.

“And,,, if you really don’t feel comfortable with yourself, and you want to change for you, then I’ll be right by your side. Every step of the way.” She placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I love you Darlin’” She said into your hair, lightly inhaling your scent.

A fresh wave of tears had made their way to the surface. Not really from sadness but more from relief. Spinel lightly rocked from side to side as she held you. Whispering sweet “I love you”s and soft compliments until you finally settled down.

“Feelin’ a bit better?” She asked softly. You nodded.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.” You looked back up at her and smiled. “Thank you Spins.” “No problem Doll. Now c’mere and let ol’ Spinsy kiss all your worries away. When I’m done with ya, you’ll never think badly about yourself again.” You giggled and looked away. Blush forming on your cheeks.

“Omygosh how can you say that right now? Look at me!” You gestured to your face. “I’m a hot mess!” Spinel smirked, looking you up and down.

“The hottest mess I’ve eva’ seen. Especially since you’ve got yourself all dolled up for me~ Is that a new outfit Dollface?”

Your face became red hot at the sudden realization that you’d been sitting there, in the bathroom, in nothing but your underwear. You squeaked and quickly tried to hide yourself with your arms. But Spinel was one step ahead of you. She grabbed your wrists before you could do anything and leaned towards you.

“Nuh uh uh Suga’, I said I was going to kiss every last bit of ya and I meant it.” A mischievous look grew on her face as she leaned in and kissed you passionately.

Oh boy, this was gunna take a while,,,

#thank you for 300 followers!!!!!!!#spinel x reader #reader x spinel #long post #story #tw self harm #tw mild nudity #tw negative thoughts

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kittensjonsa · 6 years ago

Text

For @jonsa-week 's Day 1:

Greed ~ The Father (Justice) ~ Fave book quote (Jon, A Storm of Swords - pg 617)

Summary: Revenge was all he wanted and it didn’t matter how he got it. But Jon knew he had bitten off more than he can chew the moment he laid his eyes on Sansa Stark - daughter of the well loved and respected man in all of Westeros and recent widower turned priest, Ned Stark.

Rated G, 2k+ words, may turn smutty. Angsty, a snippet of Jonsa, dark Jon and to be continued (maybe I don’t know yet..)

In The Name of The Father

Justice. It was all he wanted. The plans he had didn't have any room for any incidences. Nothing at all. Just get in, get it done and get out. He was prepared, or at least he thought so.

“Something troubling you, son?”

Jon jumped slightly at the call. Turning around slowly as calm and confident footsteps approached him, Jon managed a small smile of greeting. A small creak told him the priest had just taken a seat in the pew just behind his.

“Well, isn't everyone who comes here?”

A small grin and a chuckle escaped the sombre priest. “True. Aren't we all? Well if there's anything you need, confess or anything, I'll be right here.”

Confess. A heavy word worth its weight in guilt and remorse. He had a confession, truth be told but tonight was not the night. Oh the things he could tell, but he shouldn't. Not to Father Ned Stark.

“I'm sorry, Father.. but I'm afraid.. I'm not Catholic. I just came here to take a breather. It's very.. peaceful here.”

It wasn't prayer nor intercession he was after. Nor a minute of peaceful solitude. He had enough of those growing up alone.

Forgiveness. That was on his mind, the moment he stepped into the church. He feared he would vanish and spontaneously combust, on such sacred premises, for the vile things he had done but he guessed going to hell didn't work that way. Jon had a feeling he had one foot in it already.

“How could you? You animal!” Sansa's cries were acid, burning right through him.

“I fell in love with you! To think I gave you all of me, my heart was yours! A-and you.. you just stomped on it? How dare you even come here!”

“Sansa, you're not listening to me.. please just listen.”

Sansa shook her head and rubbed away at the tears that were flowing freely. Oh, how it hurts. She gave herself to him. All of her; mind, body and soul. She would do anything for him. Anything to make him happy. He was her best friend, her soul mate. But how could her feelings be so wrong?

Sansa screamed in anger as Jon stepped closer. She was done. The lies, oh God, the lies!

“No! Don't touch me! We are done! Don't ever come near me ever again! You.. are dead to me.”

No words had ever punched him in the gut like Sansa’s..Jon could only watch as Sansa ran away from him, driving off and leaving him alone by the river. The night was unbearably cold all of a sudden. Their favourite spot and where they kissed for the first time. He shouldn't care nor remember these things, but he did. Good lord, he did.

The stab that pierced through his heart was one he didn't expect. Perhaps he did love her too. .

But.. Mother. And Arthur.

He was greedy. Greedy for things to be set right. Greedy for vengeance. For vindication. But he had no right to break her heart. And for what it's worth, his too.

His happiness meant nothing if he didn't have any peace. One that would come in the aftermath of finally knowing who had taken everything away from him and getting payback. It was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

Maybe prayer was what he needed, subconsciously as what good left in him was desperately trying to claw its way out. But he didn't believe in God. What God would allow such things; what happened to his mother and Arthur, and more importantly to him, making him this way causing hurt and grief to someone he actually loved?

Pray then. Pray to your new Gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.

And they are Revenge, Betrayal and Blackmail.

Jon shut his eyes, remorseful for thinking such thoughts in such a place. But how hypocritical, it seemed to him, considering what he had done. And he had done enough. It stung him still, remembering how her warm tears dampened the palm of his hands. How her heartbreaking pleas shook him to his very core. Yes, he had done enough.

Jon could hear the priest's smile. A warm, genuine and kind smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Well, not to worry we welcome everyone here.”

Sinners are we and sinners we shall die. None redeemed. At least not me, Jon thought.

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

His eyes shifted to the floor and held his head low before standing up to leave Jon alone. He had been a priest long enough to know when he was not needed. And it seemed to him this dishevelled young man, with dark eyes and unruly curls probably cherished his moment of solitude before he walked in.

“Nice to meet you then. I shall leave you in your peace. I'm Father Ned and I hope if you feel like you ever need a place to breathe, you'll come here.”

“Thank you Father Ned. I'll take you up on that offer.”

And perhaps.. more.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

“What? What do you mean you can't tell me? What is it?”

Sam clicked the mouse and whirled his chair around to face Jon. He hoped he had better news to tell him.

“You've got to promise me you're not going anything stupid. You can't. Promise me, Jon.”

“All right. I promise. So go on then... Oh for fuck's sake, Sam! Out with it!”

Sam turned and tapped on the computer screen.

“That man you've been looking for all this while? The one you think had something to do with your mother's death? That's him right there. The private investigator sent me this.”

Jon grunted and glared at Sam before setting his gaze on the screen.

“So that's him. I've got to look for him then.”

“And do what Jon? Ask him questions, interrogate him? I know what's going through your mind and I think it's best if you don't.. do anything at all.”

Jon looked at the name again. And the stealth pictures that came with it. He needed to decide now. Closure, that's it. Though it puzzled him why Sam was so concerned. He knew how much he needed this. Sam, of all people.

“And why shouldn't I?”

“You're mad, angry, pissed off. You've been like this ever since you started this whole investigation thing. Dude, listen to me, just don't do it.”

“And isn't that the exact reason why I should? It's called closure, Sam. Besides, who the hell is h-”

“He's mother fucking Ned Stark, that's why!” Sam objected.

Ned Stark. I'll remember that name for as long as I live.

“So, who's he?” Jon asked, though he had heard of him before.

“You're kidding right? A Westerosi legend. The lawyer who brought the Boltons to their knees and best friend of the late President Robert Baratheon. How do you not know all this?”

Jon stared at the pictures once more and shrugged. Probably a good thing he didn't. Makes it all the more easier. He was too busy trying to survive the past twenty years or so, doing his best on the cold hard streets than to mind about politics or gossip.

“But.. it looks like he isn't one anymore. Or retired. I mean, look the photos. He's a priest, Sam.”

“Dude give that guy a break. He just lost his wife and his two sons. He's found God and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. I mean, come the fuck on, Snow!”

And I lost my mother.

Jon didn't like the tone in Sam's plea. Why should one man's redemption be more important than his poor mother's? A life snatched away from him much too soon. The years spent in foster homes, in the orphanage and trying to seek some form of solace and God forbid it, even love - was a painful sorrow no one would ever understand.

“Stop fucking telling me about this man! His life is no more important than what my mother could have had! You don't fucking tell me how that's like, Tarly. No one can and best you don't say anything about this anymore.”

“No, Jon I didn't mean that! You know that. Come on, Jon! Jon!” Sam's words fell on deaf ears as Jon grabbed his coat and left. Nobody tells me what the fuck to do. Not Sam, not even God. Whoever the fuck they are, Jon screamed in his head.

Days went by without as much as a call from Sam, Jon knew he was smart enough to leave him be but still he wished they could talk. A text or two dinged but Jon chose to ignore them. He had more important things on his mind. Rubbing his tired eyes, Jon decided to call it a night from staring at the computer.

The research and probing had gotten a little too mundane, the more he learned about Ned Stark, the more he uncovered - which was really how Ned Stark was practically Captain Westeros, a well loved man, an upright citizen with morals of steel. There was not an ounce of dirt on him except one tabloid article years ago that depicted him leaving the scene of an infamous night club with the late former President Baratheon. But that was only because the former late President was a bad boy with bad habits, it wasn't really about Ned Stark per se.

How are you connected to my mother's death? Jon wondered. Something's gotta give, no one can be that good.

Jon needed to do something different, he needed more. He had set out to find the truth and right now, he'd do just about anything for it. Anything.

The Stark family radiated pure happiness and perfection, from the web portrait alone, one that rudely yelled out at him.

Such a pretty family.

It made him sick to his stomach, to think that that could have been a portrait of him and his mother and Arthur Dayne. His own family where he was loved and protected. Arthur wasn't family but he was the closest father figure he had in someone and the only confidante his mother trusted. Arthur probably loved his mother too, Jon was certain. They were happy and Jon's life was perfect. Just like the picture of the Starks.

Till a note found in his mother's cold dead hands with a scribbled 'Eddard Stark' destroyed everything he held dear.

And there he was, Father Ned Stark.

Ned Stark, a name that made a six year old Jon an orphan that day and since then he made a vow. Devoting the rest of his life to avenge his beloved mother. Even if it meant hurting someone along the way. He was more than willing and growing up fending for himself went on to equip him with the skills he needed. Jon had years in preparation for this.

They've got to pay, Mama. Someone has to.

“Sansa! Sans! There's someone here to see you,” Jeyne called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Sansa almost jumped and dropped the pencil in her hand. Good thing she wasn't writing anything important or else she'd have to rewrite the notes.

That's weird. Who could it be? Sansa checked her watch again and grunted at the time. It was going to be the third time she was late this week.

“She'll be right down. What was your name again? Jay, was it?”

Jon nodded with a smile. “Yes, it is. I'm actually here for the caretaker position? I believe it was posted in the jobs section in the papers.”

Jeyne eyed him warily. She didn't recall putting an advertisement out for anything lately. If Sansa did, she'd definitely inform her. Yet not even a mention of it. Jeyne didn't quite like the idea of strangers coming up to the Stark's private residence looking for jobs. Regardless of how dark and handsome they turn out to be. But then again, perhaps she might be taking her job as Sansa's personal assistant a little too seriously to care this much.

I'm sure it's nothing, just a guy looking for a job.

“I see. Sansa did mention once that they needed a caretaker here to help with house and the dogs. Though that might have been a few weeks ago and the applications are closed. But maybe she hadn't found one yet. So.. you're okay with dogs though right?”

Jon shrugged. “Dogs? Sure, I love dogs. I have one of my own. Ghost, his name is. Big large white dog. He's a good boy.”

Jeyne nodded approvingly. “Well, all right then. I have to go and leave you in Sansa's good hands. I was just here to collect some paperwork. Nice to meet you, Jay. Oh, and good luck!”

Jon waved a polite goodbye as he closed the door and resumed waiting by the stairs. Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead. Jon inhaled deeply. So close. He was so close and everything was going according to plan. Jon knew he was at the right place and at the right time and he was mightily pleased with himself.

That is, until - he saw her. Sansa Stark.

“Jay? Hi, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Sansa. Nice to meet you.”

Nice indeed.

Fuck.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa week #day 1 #dark jon #revenge #modern au

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smashbuddies · 6 years ago

Text

Do it for Them: Pt. 10

“This the best you can do, pearl?”

“Please, you only wish it was!”

Daniel cartwheeled forward to dodge a knife flying through the air, and in return shot out a star. Its blades cut through the dirt as it shot across the ground, shape lost to the blur of momentum, aimed right for Mortar and his stupid cocky smirk. As expected, he leapt out of the way, but Daniel had a new little trick he’d been dying to try out.

As he landed on his feet, he held both his clenched fists forward, pressed together at first, only to split them apart, arms flying back in a wide arc and hands flattening out for flare. To his delight, the star followed his example, splitting into two smaller blades, both going even faster as they drifted into reckless turns and shot back his way.

Mortar appeared right in front of him, grin wicked, knife glinting in his hand, poised low to finish him off.

Daniel only grinned back.

The stars cut through Mortar’s form, and Daniel took delight in the split-second he got to see that stunned look before poof. A quick laugh escaped him- it had actually worked!

But it was a pyrrhic victory, as he too was cut down by his own blade.

Even inside the sanctuary of his gem, he could feel the humiliation plague him. So he hadn’t fully thought that out. But, it still worked. That move simply needed a little tweaking.

His Diamond would be so proud of him.

Daniel popped back into existence with the help of Cookie’s healing aura, nestled in his arms on the ground, a huge grin on his face as he took in the sight of Mortar glaring down at him. The aura lingered, making him feel bold. Or perhaps it was something else? Either way, he had a few choice words that he couldn’t hold back.

“Was that the best you could do, pyrite?”

Mortar sneered down at him, then let out a huff and offered a hand that Daniel eagerly took. Once he was on his feet, Mortar roughly elbowed him in the side- ouch, that would leave a mark- and said, “Not bad for an upper crust. Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”

“Michael.”

“Well, ya know what I mean,” he grumbled with an almost pout thrown Cookie’s way. “You’re not as good as me, probably won’t ever be, but not bad. For a Pearl.”

“Michael!”

Cookie turned to Daniel, eyes wide and face flushed, stammered words coming out of his mouth so quickly that he couldn’t quite catch them. Before this could continue on for too long, Mortar grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. Cookie visibly eased, all signs of frustration and anxiety melting away as he eagerly received the kiss. His arms even looped around Mortar’s body, pulling him in even closer.

Daniel watched this as impassively as he could. But a heated bloom sprung up in his gem. Unpleasant. Like it was never meant to be. Like it went against everything he was made to do. Like it was a vile thing he had to hide away, because of course he could never have a bad thought, no, that wasn’t fit for a Pearl.

His Diamond would hate it.

“Anyway,” Mortar said after he took his sweet time pulling away, that stupid smirk on his face as he held a stunned Cookie. “We’re done trainin’ for today.”

“So soon?” Daniel asked with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. His words were carefully chosen to keep the heat inside, but his tone gave him away. “That didn’t seem long enough to fill your sadistic little ‘poof Daniel’ quota.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Cookie cut in as he blinked away the lingering effects of the kiss. A small smile took over his face, and he have Mortar a side-glance. “But… We, um, we have plans today. The human city has a nice little garden, and...”

His lips drew into a thin line.

Cookie’s eyes grew wide. “Unless! Unless, of course, um, you want to train more…”

“No, no,” he said and waved the two of them off casually, nose in the air. “I need to look over reports anyway. Check in with the troops and all that. You two have fun with your plans. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Only when they walked away, chattering, laughing, hanging off each other with so much love in their eyes, did the heat plaguing Daniel start to fade. A dull, throbbing ache lingered behind, and he couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard he tried. Not even when he was left alone, with nothing but the vast sky and the stars above him.

“I’m home, My Diamond!”

The doors slid closed behind Daniel as he padded into the throne room, hands laced in front of himself. He kept a gentle smile on his face, as if the portrait watching him could really see. As if they’d really judge him for showing the turmoil brewing beneath this facade.

“A lot happened today,” he said pleasantly as he took a seat on the throne. “Our troops are pushing against Homeworld’s invasion better than ever. For the most part.”

A wave of nausea washed over him. Against Red or Gray’s troops, the rebellion could easily win over. But that Shard Eater…

“Anyway,” he continued as he closed his eyes, pretending that His Diamond was there with him. Running their hand through his hair, touching on his gem in the perfect way to make him feel all pleasantly warm and safe. “We’re making progress. And we’re going to get you back. I’ve been training as hard as I can. You were right: Mortar is our most adept soldier. I knew I couldn’t have picked anyone else.”

The silence that followed was deafening. And just thinking about Mortar- and by extension, Cookie- made that vile feeling from before flare up.

“I’m surprised he and Cookie didn’t fuse again today. They were all over each other.”

Daniel laced his hands together in his lap. He had to control himself. But these feelings, he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and cry and just let out how unfair it all was. Except he didn’t know what was unfair about it. And he knew he had to keep it all inside.

“I wonder what it’s like to… To fuse.” His face grew hot, hotter than his gem, and more pleasant. “Or kiss. Or have plans. Nice plans that have nothing to do with the war.”

From here, he couldn’t see the portrait smiling down on the room. So he summoned a star and projected His Diamond’s image onto it. Just as he perfectly remembered. And he sat there for a long, quiet moment while he basked in His Diamond’s radiance. No one could outshine them or snuff out that wonderful light.

But the other Diamonds tried. And now Daniel was alone, stuck halfway in the dark with nothing but the faintest glow to comfort him.

No fusion. No kisses. No plans.

“Why does Mortar get to have all that?”

The question left him before he could stop it, and he immediately pressed his hands to his mouth to keep from saying something else he’d regret. Mind abuzz, he scrambled for some reasoning, a defense that ultimately didn’t matter but he felt compelled to give anyway.

“I mean, of course, not that I want any of our gems to not have someone to love,” he rambled out and stood from the throne, nervous energy too much for him to keep still. He padded over to the window and looked down at the city below. “But, well, Mortar is such a brute, and I just... Seeing him and Cookie- I’m happy for them, but it feels awful and I don’t know why, it- it just makes me so angry.”

He summoned another star and reached into it. His hand closed around what he was looking for, and with a flourish, he pulled his replica sword from its depths. Even though it was forsaken as a weapon, holding it still brought him a sense of comfort. And he needed that right then.

“All our gems have someone to go home to,” he rambled on as the tip of his sword fell to the ground with a sharp clang. “All of them except me.”

That was wrong. Logically, he knew it was. He’d been there for weeping gems, the ones who’d been left behind while their partners went into battle. The ones who had to watch their loved one’s shards return to the Earth. He’d given honors, let those left behind keep mementos and hold privileges that the shattered couldn’t keep.

“I’m not the only one who’s lost someone, I know that, My Diamond.” He pressed his free hand to his face, eyes stinging from his vain attempt at keeping everything inside. “But everyone else has friends to turn to. Someone to hold them and tell them that everything will be okay, it’ll all be fine, we can get through this together.”

Tears slipped through his fingers, and his shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs. “But what about me? I have to be strong. I have to lead. And they all put me on this distant pedestal. I’m Purple Diamond’s Pearl. Just as unbreakable as you are. I have to be.”

Everything hurt, and he dropped to his knees. Pressure, so much pressure. Layering and layering of cold isolation. Duties, obligations, everything that he couldn’t crack under. Each day that passed only made the weight heavier. Thoughts of His Diamond plagued him, bittersweet, unwavering, pushing him through the pain while inflicting most of it. This was who he had to be.

Right?

“I’m just Daniel,” he muttered through his sorrow, too cold to move, tears blurring the kind face of His Diamond. “I’m weak. I can’t do this alone. I… I can hardly imagine you doing this alone. We at least had each other, but now...”

For the millionth time, his last moments with His Diamond replayed in his head. And their final words to him echoed in his head.

“That’s an order, Pearl,” he repeated softly, but with a growing venom with each word. “Don’t even think about disobeying Your Diamond again.”

Slowly, he got to his feet with the help of his sword, using it like a crutch while his form tried to collapse again. A fire bloomed inside him, and he glowered down at the ground, unable to meet His Diamond’s eyes.

“That’s an order, Pearl?” he asked with disbelief. His Diamond never talked to him like that. Not genuinely. But they meant it right then. Truly meant it, that ferocity in their voice unwavering. “Don’t even think about disobeying Your Diamond again?”

His fists clenched at his side. Hold it in, Pearls don’t act like this, he was a perfect Pearl, meek and mellow, unbothered by anything that didn’t go against is Diamond.

“That’s an order, Pearl!?” A flawed part of him swung his sword up, and he pointed it right at His Diamond’s visage as it slowly melted into that glare he hated, haloed by inky black. “What kind of final words are those, Snail!? Why not ‘everything will be okay’!? Or ‘I just want you to be safe’!? No, I’m just a Pearl to you!”

As soon as the word ‘Pearl’ was spat out, he turned and thrusted his sword into the glass pane in front of him. Cracks spread from where it poked through, and Daniel watched in dawning horror. He put his hands over his mouth, stepping back and leaving the sword embedded, with the hope that the window would remain intact.

Not even a second passed before the glass shattered and showered him in crystalline shards. They sliced thin cuts into his arms as he shielded himself, and he winced at the loud clatter of his sword falling to the floor.

The doors behind him slid open, followed by a familiar, shocked gasp.

“D-Daniel!”

In his daze, he was easily pulled away from the mess as a soothing aura washed over him. He glanced down and finally registered Cookie’s presence. Slowly, his eyes moved over to take in Mortar, still standing awkwardly in the doorway with a tray of… Something in hand.

After a minute, he found his voice as asked, “What…?”

Cookie looked up at him earnestly, concern shining in his eyes. “You looked upset earlier and… Michael and I thought that, um… After our date, we could come keep you company? The humans taught me how to make food, and we thought you’d like to try some.”

Those words were almost inconceivable. He stared, tears still falling down his face freely. Even so, the ache in his gem dulled for the first time in forever. Was Cookie using his power still?

For a brief moment, Cookie looked past Daniel. Then, softly, he said, “You really miss them a lot...”

Daniel’s whole body seized as everything he’d been feeling up until that point crashed against each other. Choking on his words, he just barely managed to get out, “M-More than anything. Everything I do is for them.” His fists clenched, and his flaws pulled him from Cookie to glare at the image still on his star. “And they left me. The traitor, couldn’t even give me good final words, they... They only saw me as a Pearl right up to the end!”

“U-Um, you don’t know that,” Cookie said in a surprisingly firm tone as he grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled his attention back toward him. But that confidence quickly drained out of him. “Snail, they… I’m sure they didn’t...”

“You didn’t know them like I did,” he muttered darkly, the tone not meshing well with his pleasant Pearl voice. “You didn’t hear what they said to me.”

Cookie had no reply. He looked lost, shaken, eyes wide and lip quivering.

“...Are ya kidding me? I thought pearls weren’t stupid”

Mortar stomped over, unperturbed by the glare Daniel was shooting his way, or the stressed look on Cookie’s face. He wasn’t quite as menacing with the block of pastel pinks and purples in his arms, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be argued with right now. As soon as Daniel opened his mouth, Mortar cut him off.

“Snail said all that to protect you,” he bit out in a tone that sure made Daniel feel dumb. “You realize that Shard Eater was dead-set on gettin’ ya, right? I was there, I saw it. I woulda said the same thing to Cookie if it was us. A lil hurt’s better than seein’ someone ya love get shattered. And as if they really wanted to say that ever, ya wouldn’t believe all the gushin’ they did when ya weren’t around.” His voice raised to a mocking pitch. “‘Daniel’ this and ‘Daniel’ that, ‘Daniel’s so great, so smart, he said something real funny the other day’.”

No. He didn’t want to hear it. The pain of knowing that they actually sacrificed themself for him, that was infinitely more unbearable than believing that they’d betrayed themself with those last words.

Cookie chose that moment to speak up, “I… I know it hurts… But I’m sure Snail is real sorry… Wherever they are, I imagine they must be as torn up over it as you are. And when we get them back, you two will be able to, um… Talk about it?”

At that moment, his will shattered. His Diamond. He’d such cruel things about His Diamond. The one gem who meant everything to him. What would they think of him now? Would they forgive him? He didn’t know. And he’d be asking that question indefinitely. Haunted by his own defective feelings until he could finally get closure.

But at least he wasn’t alone anymore. The gentle arms surrounding him- and even the hesitant touch of a hand on his back- proved that.

#snailbitch #do it for them #my diamond au #fic #mod cantolope

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mystic-messenger-writing · 7 years ago

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Hi! First of all, I'm sorry for my bad English uwu.. I have always read request about a sad situation in which it affected a lot of MC, those of RFA went and they comfort her. I was thinking *And since I like angst content haha ;w;* what would happen if RFA + V and Saeran, had a heavy day, are very down or depressed, to the point that they don't speak, don't respond to chats or even interact with MC . What would MC do to comfort them? I love ur content, keep it up! 3

I really love how unique this request is! I like writing about comforting the RFA and friends because I want to give them the love that they deserves! So thank you for the request and I hope that you enjoy! ^^

Yoosung

Yoosung wasn’t expecting to feel so utterly depressed after visiting his cousin

He had finally come to terms with all of the horrible things Rika had done but he wanted to see her one last time

Without telling anyone, Yoosung went to visit Rika at the mental hospital

All she did was spit vile and hurtful words towards the younger boy, making him feel completely useless

You noticed that Yoosung’s normally bubbly personality drastically changed to one of somber

Not wanting to pry too much, you set up a game of LOLOL and a bowl of Honey Buddha Chips at his computer desk

Yoosung dragged himself to his room to see you gently patting his chair, giving him a soft smile

He didn’t say much but you could tell that your boyfriend was starting to feel some joy again

Yoosung never truly told you what happened to him to make him so depressed but he would always remember how precious you were to him, he didn’t need anyone else in his life besides you

Zen

Zen never would have imagined being depressed could make him feel so hopeless

After learning that he wouldn’t play any role in a popular upcoming musical plus having his motorcycle break down was awful

But to make matters worse, Zen’s parents decided to call him and rant on about how he was a disgrace to the family

He usually never took his parent’s words to heart, but today was different as their words felt true to him

You had never seen Zen so upset before, you missed his deep voice, upbeat attitude, and random singing

So you pressed his head against your chest as he finally let the dam break and the tears rolled down his cheeks

You gently hushed him, reassuring him that everything would get better as you combed through his long hair

When he composed himself, Zen apologized for being weak and thanked you for being there for him when no one else would

Jaehee

It was always the toughest time of the year when the day of Jaehee’s mother’s passing came around

But this year it seemed particularly worse since her work load kept piling up meaning more stress in her already busy life

Jaehee felt as though she didn’t have anytime to herself, that she was failing her mother and wouldn’t make her proud

When you found out about Jaehee’s depression, you decided to take her to a therapist

While it did help somewhat, you knew that she needed support from you most of all

So you would make her a large, warm cup of coffee and bring in some baked sweets while the two of you watched Zen’s musicals on DVD

You would put a blanket around both of you so that Jaehee would feel more at ease, which truly helped her

Jaehee would always have a piece of her heart that would belong to her mother but the rest would forever belong to you

Jumin

For being the so called man with no emotions, Jumin surprisingly had a large amount of anxiety in his heart

Having to become the perfect businessman and living up to everyone’s expectations would be rolling on anyone, including Jumin

After failing a particular important business deal, Jumin felt like he was utterly worthless

As much as he tried to hide his sorrow, you were the only one who could see through his netrual face

You made Jumin get a warm shower and when he came out, you presented him with homemade pancakes in the shape of a cat head

Jumin smiled at your silliness and already felt himself become happier and once the two of you finished, it was family cuddle time

You, Jumin, and Elizabeth all laid down on the massive bed with you holding your husband in your arms

Feeling your warmth and love would always be the only thing would always make Jumin happy and he made sure to always be there for you in return

Seven

Seven had recently failed his past two hacking jobs, both of which meant a huge blow to his agency

All of this stress and frustration took a toll on Seven, he completely shut down

He wouldn’t eat, sleep, talk, or even crack a cringy joke, he would only half-heartedly work

Seeing your boyfriend so down made your heart ache and you knew that you had to help him

So you would quietly sit next to Seven as he worked and helped relax him anyway that you could without disturbing him

You would rub his shoulders, pick out soothing music to listen to, bring him his meals, and even try to crack some of your own corny jokes

Seven truly appreciated your efforts and they genuinely helped him feel better and motivate him to finish his work

With you in his life, Seven knew that he could always overcome his depression and face whatever life threw at him thanks to your love

It was days like this where you felt V needed to learn how much of an incredible person he is

He was going through some old photos and stumbled across one with Rika and the twins on it

V must have stared at the photo for an hour, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought about all of the sorrow and grief he put those boys through

He believed that everything was his fault, V completely shut himself off from everyone and wallowed in sadness

But you weren’t having it, you knew that it was solely his fault and you had to make him realize that

You walked into his room, noticing him hugging his knees to his chest with teary eyes, as you sat beside him and showed him the photos you gathered

They were of the RFA being together and all be happy or goofy, the two of you laughing at the one where Seven was trying to steal Elizabeth away from a very angry Jumin

V wrapped his long arms around you and quietly thanked you and at that moment, finally understood what true love was

Unknown

Saeran had plenty of good and bad days but today was one of his worst

After waking up from a nightmare, Saeran kicked you and Seven out of his room and demanded neither of you disturb him

You patiently waited for Saeran to calm down and open the door but he refused so you went to get a bowl of ice cream to coax him out

But you froze when you heard his muffled sobs coming from his room, you felt your heart tear apart

Seven finally managed to pick the lock to his brother’s door and let you enter to comfort him

Saeran weakly told you to leave but you refused, knowing that deep down, he needed your comfort

So you silently held him in your arms and told him all of the reasons why you love him while he ate his ice cream

The two of you spent the day laying in bed together, with Saeran finding comfort in your warm embrace

No matter what troubles or depressing thoughts plagued him, Saeran always knew that he could turn to you for comfort which is something that he would forever love you for

#mystc messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger Yoosung #mystic messenger Zen #mystic messenger Jaehee #mystic messenger Jumin #mystic messenger Seven #mystic messenger V #mystic messenger Unknown

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madonnasdepends · 3 years ago

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It really is the constant heart break for me. I really really thought this time would genuinely be different, to the point that I am surprised. Playing this flirt game with you for the past 4 months has been so fun and has brought me joy and enough for someone to ask why I’m so happy, it was you, you are the one that was making me happy up until this point. I’m really bummed that I can’t land a man. I’m bummed I couldn’t land you. You are so handsome and I vibe so well with you and now I just feel so left in the dust, I feel so sad. So heart broken. Why is this always me, why is this always happening to me, why can’t I fall in love with someone who will love me back, why is it even when I’m not making the moves that I still get friend zoned. Like I really am so surprised this hooened, bc I really thought this time was going to be the time that things fall into place for me, that I finally get to be with someone I like and likes me back, that I get to be with you, but no, it’s not like that. Idk what I have to do to feel loved, I’ve reached a point where I’m so depressed and feel so alone that it almost sounding good to just end things for myself, to the point that is scary and I should really just get the help I need, but I’ll probably just sit in my own sorrow and just deal with it in an unhealthy way. I want to un alive myself. What’s a life worth living if it is alone. I’m done. I’m broken. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Part of me really wants to just die and the other part of me is embarrassed that I want to die, I’m a coward. What will I miss out on if I die, love? What if it never comes? It’s been over ten years of wanting a relationship and I still haven’t had a solid boyfriend. When will ir happen?? Fucking when? Im so angry! It’s fucking vile how bad I want one. I guess it’s time to cope and find a way to deal with it. Im so frustrated.

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cold-war-essay-blog · 7 years ago

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Frankenstein by Mary Shelley essay

Topic:\n\nAn blast to identificate the literal whale of the sm guile: Viktor Frankenstein or his putz.\n\nEssay Questions:\n\nWho is the signifi asst teras of the novel: Viktor Frankenstein or his peter?\n\nWhat was the look of the nut interchangeable?\n\nWhat pr neverthelessted Viktor Frankenstein from winning right for his actions?\n\n thesis Statement:\n\n superscript Frankenstein would assume neer born(p)(p)-again his wolf into a freak if he knew how to cognize and hook on responsibility for the whizzs we act upon to this world.\n\n \nFrankenstein by bloody shame Shelley analyse\n\n \n\nIntroduction: bloody shame Shelleys Frankenstein is a book with a deep subject matter that touches to the rattling m every. This sum implies that the endorser leave precisely non t exclusivelyy the story provided from the perspective of the bank clerk nevertheless alike reveal numerous hidden opinions and make a somebody-to-person interpretation of th e novel. star of its primary statements is that no angiotensin converting enzyme and only(a) is innate(p) a deuce and a goliath is created finished unwrap socialization, and the dish up of socialization starts from the wholesaler with the creator. It is winner Frankenstein that could non progeny the responsibility for his wight and was non qualified to take like of his child. self-respect and vanity were the qualities that frame victor Frankenstein to his uncovering of life: ...So some(prenominal) has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein- more, farthest more, bequeath I achieve: treading in the steps already marked, I w sorrow pioneer a new way, research unk at presentn powers, and lead to the world the deepest mysteries of introduction[p.47]. He could non cope with this baring and well(p) cut it. The calamity of master Frankenstein and the tragedy of his instrument is the same it is the tragedy of loneliness and confronting the world, to ilsome to find a place in it and deserve soulfulnesss discern. The zoology would have neer be fall d feature a daemon if it got the love it strived for. captain Frankenstein would have never converted his puppet into a dickens if he knew how to love and take responsibility for the ones we bring to this world.\n\nAccording to Mary Shelleys Frankenstein the dick becomes a reliable teras through committing a murder. It becomes a liquidator whose main(prenominal) goal is to visit. The savage avenges for having been abandoned by his creator and go forth all alone in the conflicting world that can non allow him hardly suffer on and have mortal to love. Obviously, the creature did non begin its life as a ogre however became one later on schoolmaster Frankenstein jilted it and refused to realize that he has to take treat of this creature from now and forever and be responsible. The creature was born a vulnerable reality into the world. It was simply born and a ttempt to assimilate the person who do him come, the one who needed him and love him. But when it saying the world did not see whatsoeverbody who at to the lowest degree gave him an limb to stand up. master Frankenstein treasured to exhibit life to a creature, but when he managed to do it the mantrap of the dream vanished, and non active horror and abuse filled [his] heart[p.57]. He was terrified of what he had created and ran by from his creature, leaving it all alone and brook. Victor Frankenstein made the low step into devising the savage a real monster by speed onward from it, not even accept it into this world. Victor ran absent for the prick was ugly, but the savage did not have whatsoever cruel intentions for universe as a newborn it was evil-free. The wildcat did not do anything braggy. All it did was it came into the world, or it would be more honest to rarify that it did not come on its own will but was brought to life. He came flavor for love and the firstborn thing he met was rejection. How does it feel for any living being to be jilted?\n\nThe animal ran away and tried to acidify to other deal. It did not want anything bad but simply attention and support. up to now, his visual aspect made population feel disgust and everybody tried to hurt him. The Creature could not chthonicstand wherefore it was treated so cruelly and suffered so much. It was completely uncaring and nobody c ard for this living being who wanted to be love so desperately! Such abject and constant refection moody the Creature into a real monster and the revengeful murderer of little William. The creature was not born a monster but the reject of men made him one. Everyone he false to dislike him, hated for nothing. And when he cancelled to Frankenstein begging for a mate he heard the quarrel that killed the last gains of wish in the abstrusity of his heart: fret ... do you hold up approach me? ... Be gone, vile dirt ball! or rather, checkout that I whitethorn trample you to disperse! ... Abhorred monster! teras that thou art! the tortures of hell are too small a payback for thy crimes. Wretched crucify! you reproach me with your creation; come on then, that I whitethorn extinguish the sack which I so negligently bestowed[p.68]. The Creature had nobody to live for and it was the point when revenge started being the impression of his life. He did not need heap anymore he on the nose became what they evermore believed him to be a monster. It is possible neither to say that the Creature was a monster from the very start-off nor accuse the Creature of anything for all it did it step forwarded into this world. The Creature came with a complete(a) heart and did not meet any love or at least sympathy from people, including his very creator. The Creature was so unhappy and became a monster barely because everyone treated the Creature as if they were born(p) monsters that have no feelings at all. \n\n demonstration: The Creature is not a real monster. It is just a victim. Just like Victor is the victim of the mistakes his parents did, and the Creature is a victim of Victors ill perception of reality. Its like an iceberg we see yet the top, yet the biggest sectionalization of it stays under the piss. The top is Victors creating a monster that killed all his dearly love people and what we see under the water - is real land of things: the indifference of people and the nature to umpire everything basing on the bearing without even essay to look inside. Nevertheless there is something that can be called a genuine monster without any suspect - it is the scorn and the cecity of people. Blindness to mistakes, to the suffer of other people, even to love What the reader learns from this book is that things are not forever and a day the way they appear to be. And what seems terrifying whitethorn turn out to be just the perturb of souls heart, just like the pain of the c reature that was ruling to be a monster and not being one from the begging became one at the end.If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Looking for a place to buy a cheap paper online? Buy Paper Cheap - Premium quality cheap essays and affordable papers online. Buy cheap, high quality papers to impress your professors and pass your exams. Do it online right now! '

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bluebookbadger-blog · 7 years ago

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The Price of a Life - Chapter 3

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

I couldn't sleep again that night, or even the next, not even getting a few seconds of splendid nothingness in my anxiety. I had come across a dilemma in my planning, and worst of all there was no more milk. The problem was, Tucker's experiment on Nina and Alexander was an important step to Ed and Al realizing how important it was for them to stay alive.

In order to keep the story straight, I needed to keep the emotional and character development as the same as possible. For Hughes, that just meant keeping him out of the picture or at least convince others (aka Flame Colonel) of his death. However, when it came to the deaths of characters influencing the development of others, it meant that some degree of death and suffering had to be involved.

I was the kind of girl who saw these kind of moral decisions in black and white most of the time. Something was right or it was wrong, good or bad, that kind of stuff. But the lives of people? Intentionally making Edward get depressed and in effect attacked and almost killed by Scar? Not to mention his automail and Alphonse would get all busted up...poor Winry. This was a little much for me to deal with, let alone practically decide the fate of the whole series.

'An Alchemist's Anguish' and 'Rain of Sorrows' were the first really serious life and death episodes people cried about, unless they had some weird attachment to Cornello or McDougal, and it's not as if the story focused on the past trauma the Elrics had endured (not a ton I could do to help them now).

I didn't want to think about how I would deal with future situations, let alone this one, so I decided to draw some silly doodles of Maes instead. Now, I was no artist, which was why I was calling them silly doodles. They're literally stick figures with glasses and a cowlick. That was it. That was my artistic ability.

The 'drawings' (if you could call them that) clashed horribly with my messy consideration of Nina and Alexander' experimentation/deaths as a) preventable b) necessary and c) reversible. I could try to find a way to keep the resulting chimera of Tucker's experiment alive long enough for proper research to reverse their condition to be discovered, however, that meant the two having to live as that monstrosity for who knows how many years.

Not to mention the Tuckers' deaths were something that really sent Ed over the edge, thus creating the whole 'look how cool it is to be alive!' speech Alphonse had to give him. It also updated Winry on the Elric's situation, and lead to the meeting with Dr. Marcoh, which led to the fifth laboratory, not to mention Sheska's job - it all came from that event practically, and without it, no one would be able to stop Father on The Promised Day. The snowball effect of the plot was awful when considering the impact of people's deaths, but it also made one hell of a show.

All these moral and plot questions were really messing with my head, so I decided to get a glass of water. This was a mistake, as it seemed to have woken Maes up. Well, he didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either. I almost bolted for my bedroom when I heard his door open, but decided against it since my ankle was acting up again.

I had the notebook in my room, so it was probably safe so long as Lucha didn't try to eat it. He was still acting weird, sleeping more than usual and eating less. I was starting to get worried he was depressed or something. Anyways, Hughes walked in on me as I sat down at the table. I was wearing a new nightgown Gracia had bought for me, all frilly and white like something out of a horror movie.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, peering up from my glass. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and it was just downright weird. A Maes without glasses was like an Irish without a Lucha. It was just damn unnatural. Besides the bizarre lack of glasses, Maes seemed kind of beat down, barely cracking a smile when he walked past me to start the coffee machine.

I never noticed how old it looked. Like, it was a freaking dinosaur. Probably this world's equivalent of an early Pavoni Espresso Machine. I wondered if they still drank it with or without grinds in, what year was this, 1913? The invention of filters came out in 1908 I thought… Wait, no, Elicia turned three not too long from now and she was born in 1911 so...1914-ish? So yeah, no coffee grinds.

I hate coffee, and in an episode of hyperfixation, I spent several days researching everything about my nemesis. As they say, “know thy enemy”.

In reality though it was for a school project, but I still fucking hate that vile bean juice.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Hughes said, waking me from my coffee musings. He had the machine running and sat down across from me, waiting for it to finish. "Want to ask me that question from earlier?"

No. I really didn't want to ask the damn question. I was a little distracted by the consequences of saving lives to think about taking them. Still, it was probably the reason I snapped at Elicia earlier and the reason I hadn't been sleeping. I rested my chin on my hands, looking across the dark room at the pictures on the mantel.

"You've killed people, right? In the civil war?" I was glad I was collected enough to act like I was making assumptions about Hughes' career as a soldier. "How do you...is it possible, I mean, to get over it?"

My heart felt as if someone had stabbed me through and through with a hot iron, and my mouth had suddenly become the Mojave Desert. My cheeks were crimson, and I knew the dark couldn't hide the tears that slipped down my cheeks. Part of me thought I was being weak, another felt vulnerable and scared, and a final piece was ready to break down sobbing and hug Maes like he was my own father.

It was quiet for a while, as if Hughes was letting me collect myself a little before he said anything that might upset me more. I realized how long I had been sitting there trying to stop the tears when I heard a short, quiet click from the coffee machine. Hughes got up and poured himself a cup. I was considerably more relaxed now, but still on the verge of tears. I had to stop crying every night, it was starting to become a bad habit. Maes sat next to me, not drinking his coffee as he thought for a moment.

"It's not something you're really supposed to 'get over'." He said slowly, assessing my lack of reaction. I tried my best to not mentally berate the statement, he wasn't finished. "But it is something you need to learn to cope with. I'm no expert in trauma - at least not on paper - but, just try to accept what you did and move on." Oh snap, I brought out the serious Hughes. Shit was about to get real. Okay, so it seemed I coped with humor.

"It's hard at first, but it helps to have someone to talk to when you start obsessing with it - blaming yourself, others, denial, that kind of stuff. You shouldn't avoid it necessarily, but it shouldn't be something that runs your life." I nodded, feeling slightly better. I was considerably more collected than I had been a minute or two ago, suddenly feeling stupid for even bothering Hughes. It probably brought up bad memories for him, not to mention there were probably books about trauma in the library - though, it would burn down before the Elrics got back from their trip to Resembool to recuperate, right? Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Thanks, really, thank you." I said, my voice raspy from all the damn crying I'd been doing. I really hated crying in front of people, if you couldn't tell from my little self loathing speech up there. This is the most I had cried all month. He almost awkwardly rubbed my back in an attempt to help me calm down some more. Sweet of him, but it seemed to only make me more upset. My dad would always rub circles on my back like that when I was upset."Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure, anything." Maes said softly, taking a sip of his coffee, a faraway look misting over his eyes. Ugh, I was so stupid for asking for help - why couldn't I learn to deal with stuff on my own? Part of me was aware that I did the right thing by asking him for advice, but it still made me feel bad. I needed to change the subject before I started to cry again.

"What does my Honorary Citizenship come with? Why did it impress Miss. Reich enough to get me a job?" I asked, genuinely curious. It seemed all official and pretty, but what was special enough to a) get me out of prison and b) get me a job with a prejudiced shopkeeper who had zero knowledge of my skills or abilities? Hughes also seemed happy to change the morbid subject to something else.

"Well, they aren't common to say the least. I'm pretty sure only two have even been issued before you - both before King Bradley was Fuhrer. They're the highest honor that can be given to a citizen. If you ever decide to join the military, you get a starting rank of a corporal once you graduate from the academy. And even if you don't, you still have access to the same career benefits - insurance and whatnot - that a corporal would.

"There's also some legal power with it, I'm pretty sure you have the power to arrest someone under certain circumstances - I think you have to have witnessed the crime with multiple witnesses and have at least a sergeant present." I nodded, a bit intimidated by the power the small piece of paper held. It was like having Order 3066 in your back pocket, except it wouldn't cause, you know, mass genocide and that kind of stuff.

I knew about military ranks, at least a little. My older sister back home was a Chief Petty Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard, so we heard plenty of this and that, but naval ranks weren't exactly the same as army ranks.

"A corporal? What kind of job would I do?" I asked, interested. If I became involved with the military, I could keep a closer eye on Hughes and the Elrics. However, that meant Pride and Wrath would be able to keep a close eye on me. The Fuhrer had most likely already figured out that my story had some small plot holes, especially the Drachman part of it. I didn't know shit about Drachman culture, let alone some religion - I should have probably given it a name so they didn't think the story was too vague. I'll call it...Utkism? Yes. A religion named after the Russian word for duck. After finishing this little tirade with myself I realized Hughes was looking at me oddly with a small, sleepy smile growing on his face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He stroked his scruffy beard sagely.

"You could work with me, once you finish at the academy that is." I realized I probably missed a whole spiel on what the hell a corporal was supposed to do, so I just nodded. All this nodding was starting to hurt my neck.

We talked for a little longer about the academy; how long I'd be there if I applied, what it'd be like, stuff like that. It was around two in the morning when I realized how often we were both yawning. We had gotten to the subject of state alchemists somehow, probably by talking about Edward, and were both struggling to maintain the conversation.

"I'm heading to bed," That was a lie, I was going back to awful moral questioning and arguing with myself over the lives of people, but Maes seemed to believe it as he too began to make his way back to his room.

"See you in the morning," The man said with a yawn, making me yawn as I entered the room. Sitting on my bed, I was happy to find the notebook unscathed. The bed was really squishy and comfortable, but I couldn't fall asleep with all the planning I had to do.

The first page of the notebook had the title of the pilot episode 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. There wasn't really much I could 'plan' for the past, but I did jot down a few notes about who I came into contact with - Kimblee probably listened in on me and McDougal, Wrath (which I simply marked with a WWE symbol just in case Seliem, or rather, Pride, was up past his bedtime spying on me), Mustang, Riza, The Armstrong Squad, the Elrics, ect. I also made a minor note of the other officers and soldiers I had met, and my 'story' of how I got there and my background. It would be both embarrassing and terrifying to screw up a lie.

The next page had both 'The First Day' and 'The City of Heresy' episode titles just to jog my memory (I lied about having an eidetic memory to you, I was only good for memorizing lists, names, and numbers. Did I forget to mention I was a compulsive liar? Just kidding, that was a lie.). I had recently given up on 'An Alchemist's Anguish' as it nearly took up two whole pages and I didn't know how long this little book was.

The next episode was really sad with lots of rain, when Scar went after the Elrics...ah, yes. 'Rains of Sorrows' would happen the day after the Tuckers were murdered. It would be cool to see if I could prevent Ed and Al some pain, but then they wouldn't have to go to Resembool and meet Marcoh on the way so I guessed I had to let shit go down between Scar and the state alchemists. Speaking of which, I was pretty sure all of this would happen in East City. I should have probably found a map so I could figure out where the hell I was at least half the time.

On another note, Lucha was finally awake for once, and not hungry. But he was still acting strangely, a twitching mess acting as if he had never walked before, stumbling around the bed like a drunken pig. I sighed, walking over to the extra bed and picking the snake rat up.

"Are you sick little buddy?" His eyes were cloudy, as if he had cataracts. This made me nervous. I didn't think the vets here would provide care for living slinkies, let alone know how to remove a cataract. I kept trying to get a better view of his eyes, which was hard considering how fidgety he was. "Geez, would you stop-" I squeaked in pain as he bit me. No blood was drawn, but it hurt like hell. "Fu-dge." I said, curbing a curse as Lucha found his footing on the bed and began to tentatively shuffle over to the notebook. "No you don't you evil little-" I stopped when I realized he was picking the pen up in its mouth, dragging the tip over the page.

Okay, I knew ferrets were smart, but he was not really one to stick with stereotypes so Lucha was always a bit of an...astronaut. Yeah, an astronaut. He was never really all there, a bit dopey and clumsy (my brother dropped him when we first got the ferret, I cried the whole way to the vet and back). Anyways, no ferret - no animal (at least without an opposable thumb) should have been able to write.

I finally got out of my stupor when he made this strangled squeak, like he was afraid to make too much noise. Lucha seemed to want me to look at what he wrote. It was three simple words, messy and with letters that were somewhat backwards and too large for me to read the first few seconds I stared at the ink.

"I AM TRUTH" It read, which made me let out a short bark of laughter. Lucha in turn glared at me and gave a short snarl.

"Sorry, it's just," I really couldn't stop giggling. One of the most powerful and all knowing beings of the series, so powerful and influential some called it a god, came to earth in the form of a ferret. "You're so weak, in that form I mean." Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it was hilarious. The cloudiness of Lucha's eyes cleared to reveal a violet eye, rings circling around a small pupil, like the eye that appears in the middle of a human transmutation circle. Lucha - Well, Truth I guessed, picked up the pen again. "Oh, not on the notebook!" I said, snatching the small tome from the pen's inky reaches.

Truth snorted, looking around for something else to write on. I guess I gave that pen to Truth, I didn't want to write with a slimy bitten ferret pen. Finding nothing, Lucha crawled up to me and began to draw the pen's sharp tip over my shin. It hurt a little, but it would wash off later. It took me a minute to read when the ferret had written, I had to turn my head to read the upside down letters.

"What do you mean you don't like it but have to deal with it? Is this about the thing you said when I was at the Gate, you know, about not being able to possess a creature with a soul?" The ferret's snow white head bobbed up and down. "Aw, but I was kind of the person who thought that maybe-" Lucha shook his head, practically having a seizure suddenly. "Lucha!" I whispered urgently, catching the small animal before he fell off the bed to the hardwood floor below.

He looked up at me, his green eyes sparkling with their little golden flecks. Crawling around my neck, Lucha nuzzled my cheek before resting on my shoulder. I sighed, knowing Truth probably could tell me something I was wondering.

I did remember what I learned from seeing the Truth, I just needed to know if I was applying that knowledge correctly. I learned that a life would have to be taken if my presence interrupted the death of another person, meaning that if I did save Nina and Alexander, someone would die. I had no way of knowing who or when, but that could seriously screw with the timeline more than plain and simple stopping an event.

Are you starting to see my big problem with saving them? And don't even mention Hughes, I was not ready for that kind of emotional trauma after the little therapy session I just had. I just wanted to ask Truth if there was a way to predict who would die in the other person's place. But, I was stuck with a sleepy slinky that was now chewing on my hair. Was he trying to force me to bathe again? Probably.

By the time I rubbed the ink off my leg, it was only 2:30. Needing something to keep me busy, I decided to go for a walk around town and get my bearings. It'd be easier to walk around at night too, not as many people out and such. Was there a curfew? Maybe, but I'd just whip out my wondrous Certificate and get a free pass. Hopefully. I left a note on the table anyway telling Maes to call the police station if I wasn't back for breakfast.

Before I could get out the door, thunder shook the building, and lightning flashed outside as a downpour began. Just my luck. And here you would think a girl named Irish would be lucky. Still, the thunder and lightning seemed to have stopped and the initial flood of rain had quickly been reduced to a light shower. Okay, so maybe I did have some luck to my name. I decided to wear one of the skirts Gracia had bought me.

Now, I'm down to wear steel toed boots and jeans and work in the mud and drive tractors all day, but I spent my first twelve school years in a skirt and blouse. In high school, I did wear jeans and boots and hoodies daily, but dressing up was my absolute favorite thing to do.

But I digress, the skirt was long, like, traditional and formal western style. It was blue with a belt that she had bought for it. Not really my style, too loose for my liking but it would do for a quick walk. The white blouses she had bought made me uncomfortable with its relatively see through fabric, so I decided on wearing one with this cute little dress jacket that mostly hid my grey sports bra from peeking out from beneath the thin fabric.

Everything was relatively comfortable, except for the frilly collar of the blouse, it was kind of itchy. To top it off, I found this hat Mrs. Hughes had left in the bottom of the closet. It had lost most of its 1900 feathers and flowers that it once adorned, and I wished they had some cloche hats around that I could use instead, but at least this would hide my hair, which was beginning to look more like a mane.

I felt very proper, with all the old clothes I was wearing. Resisting the urge to narrate my journey to the front door with a British accent, I decided to recite a few lines of Jane Austen's Emma mentally. At the front door I was contented to find a pair of shoes that, though not my size in anyway, would suffice for a quick run through the rain. I was about to put the dress pumps on when I realized the rain might ruin the old shoes. Industry was just starting to get back to producing peacetime goods after the war, so they probably weren't the best quality.

"Okay, so barefoot it is." I said quietly, checking to make sure I had everything I needed before quietly heading out with Lucha around my neck like a breathing fur scarf. As much as I loved my slippers and orthotics, barefoot was always the way to go in the rain, so long as there weren't any broken bottles lying around.

The lights in the reception area were still on, but no one was there to stop me from stealing an umbrella from the cute old umbrella stand. There were lots of umbrellas, and it wasn't as if anyone was going to be in such a rush at this hour.

Outside it was beautiful. The street lamps were still the type that needed to be lit every evening, which resulted in some of them sputtering out of existence with the rain. However, the few left burning were enough to light the streets. The shower was lightening up, but the rain was kind of peaceful. I walked all the way down main street before I saw anyone. It was starting to lighten up a little, almost an hour had passed since I left the Hughes' residence, but it was still pretty dark out.

The man was military, his blue uniform bearing many medals and awards, which made my heart skip a beat out of fear. He was also imposing in his own right, taller than Maes with a pointy handlebar mustache. The officer was familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on where I had seen him. Believe it or not, seeing 'characters' as 'people' was strange. Like, actually imagine meeting a living breathing human being with gold eyes like Ed? It just was a lot different than seeing it through a screen. You saw imperfections, small things that make them human instead of flawless animations. Real freaky.

The rain had stopped and I had as well in my maladaptive daydreaming about how easy it would be to mistake Hughes for anyone other than himself if you saw the man in a crowd. He would honestly look just like any dad, and unless you talked to him, you'd have no clue who he was, super fan of the show or not. In my distraction, I didn't realize that the man had slipped into an alley until I heard what sounded like my little brothers starting a pretend WWIII with opening speeches. Still clutching my umbrella, I ran up to the alley way before stopping to listen to the conversation.

"-You've picked the wrong target!" A voice said brusquely before an alchemic reaction took place, blue lightning crackling and lighting up the alley way. Literal canon fire came towards my end of the alley, causing me to duck away as smoke and fire reigned for a moment.

"You're fast," The same voice said, the scene still not clicking quite yet. "Try this!"

The smell of chemistry class was bringing on flashbacks to the great Disaster of McCarthy, in which a friend of mine a) put out match with his tongue and then b) broke the Bunsen burner and made an impromptu flame thrower. Chemistry class was not fun. What sounded like chains broke my post traumatic stress visions of the boy fearfully wielding the weapon of minor destruction. The voice continued onward as his assumed combatant avoided the attack.

"A little more!"

Why all the yelling? Was he trying to attract attention or help, or was this just how people duel in the olden days of 1914? There were three consecutive bangs as something closed, the moment of silent prompting me to peer around the corner.

"Hm, that wasn't so difficult." I finally recalled the opening scene of 'An Alchemist's Anguish', watching in horror as….Brigadier something or other Grand approached the newly made iron box.

"Oh fickle fudge balls." I said under my breath, dropping my umbrella and hiking up my skirt to quickly sprint over. "Mister officer sir please don't-" An explosion interrupted me as Scar broke out of the box using his deconstruction alchemy to grab the Iron-Blood Alchemist by the face.

"What? No, how?" His muffled voice said in surprise. I backed away, terrified but unnoticed thus far. I put my back against the box's wall, not wanting to intervene or be noticed. My heart felt like a car's piston as it pumped, fast and loud.

"Now you perish," A new voice said, husky and solemn as the crackle of an alchemic reaction occur, Grand falling with a thud and blood dripping to the ground. It was quiet for a moment, and I started to back away from the scene as blood came into view. I kept back up, keeping my eyes on the blood before I bumped into someone.

It felt like my heart was going to explode as he used a hand to pin my head against the box. Lucha had been knocked off my neck, falling into a puddle along with my hat. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the brimming tears, but calmed myself. This was Scar. He only killed State Alchemists, right? I slowly opened my eyes to look up, and was surprised by what I saw.

So, you know how Scar was always portrayed as this grumpy looking guy with a permanent scowl and all? Yeah, went right by the real design. Okay, so the scowl thing was spot on, but his face was a lot softer looking from what I could see (his hand was on my forehead but it still blocked a good part of my view).

He didn't kill me, he was just, looking at me. For a split second by the direction of his shaded eyes I thought he was looking at my chest, but he was looking at my choker necklace. It had popped over the blouse's collar uninvited, sparkling in the moonlight that now peeked from behind the clearing clouds.

My hand instinctively grabbed it as I tried to make eye contact. It was kind of hard to make eye contact with people when they wore shades like that, and he was really tall, okay? Maybe not Armstrong tall, but Scar was up there in my list of Tall People of Amestris.

The man wouldn't make eye contact, his view shifting to the amazing rainbow of colors my bruises had acquired as they finally started to fade. Geez, I didn't want pity, especially not from a guys who was in the position to kill me or worse. We both looked down when Lucha growled the most adorable growl a ferret could make, attacking Scar's shoe with ferocity.

He finally stopped trying to squish my head against the box, allowing me to see the infamous scar. It wasn't marring, just a light cross of pale grey across his darker skin. I was enraptured by his tattoo, the intricate and conspicuous design mesmerizing.

Scar abruptly turned and began walking calmly away, Lucha losing his grip on the shoe and curling around my ankle and snarling angrily. Looking down, I realized it wasn't Lucha (the little bastard would never bite anyone, unless he was hungry). Truth's purple eyes stared up at me for a moment before the white ferret seized and writhed for a few second before lying still. Sliding to the ground, I held my snake rat out of the puddle he was inadvertently drowning in. Scar was still walking away, and I could hear sirens somewhere in the distance. My eyes went back to his arm.

"You're older brother wouldn't want this." I said quietly, but my voice echoed in the empty, window lined alleyway. The man took off running as the blare of sirens advanced, not acknowledging my statement beyond a short pause in his step. I curled my knees to my chest, holding Lucha close.

The realization of what just occurred hit me like a wall of bricks, and I ended up retching. It didn't last long, but I still felt disgusted with having to wipe the vomit from my mouth. Lucha had managed to escape the episode unscathed, I almost crushing him against my chest to keep him away from the mess I made. Believe it or not, it was relieving to throw up for once. It felt as if all of the pent up stress of the past few days was gone in an instant.

I should have just waited for Hughes and Armstrong to show, I knew they would get here to investigate the body before morning and they'd find me and question me and maybe take me to a hospital and everything would be okay in the end. But I panicked and ran. Not after Scar, oh Truth no. I ran home, or at least tried to. About halfway there, a familiar pair of voices yelled,

"Stop! You're under arrest-" I crashed right into Brosh and Ross and we all went tumbling to the ground. Lucha managed to survive yet a second crash landing that morning.

"M-Miss. Irish?" Brosh stuttered, helping me to my feet once he found his own. I was a mess, the skirt's hem all muddy and the entire skirt soaked from when I went to pick up Lucha earlier. I was in a bit of shell shock just staring around me at the familiar faces as if they were total strangers. I started run again, wanting only to curl up with a cup of hot cocoa if such a thing existed in this world.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Maria asked, catching me by my arm. My breathing was speeding up, an asthma attack seeming imminent as I began to stress about how I would explain that I was a witness fleeing a murder scene. "Woah, calm down, tell us what happened."

Why did she have to have that motherly tone? I was about to start crying again when I noticed Armstrong and Hughes getting out of a car. So that was why Maes was up last night (or, well, this morning), he never did sleep because he was working on this case. In my daze of confusion and realization, I almost forgot about Maria's question.

"Oh, um," Well, I couldn't say I was enjoying an early morning walk now could I, even though that was the truth a little while ago. I looked at my feet. "I saw something I probably shouldn't have." I said quietly, Maria and Denny looking to each other before gently leading me in the direction of Hughes and Armstrong.

Great. This was going to be lots of fun, all rainbows and unicorns. I just wanted to go home, I might have even gotten some rest knowing that the story was progressing. But no, I had to be interrogated - for like the second time this week! Why couldn't I just do something normal and get a normal experience in return? Equivalent exchange and all that stuff? Hughes looked up from the body, which they had thankfully covered with a sheet. The blood stains on the ground still made me feel physically ill though. Armstrong and he turned to me and my two escorts.

"We found her fleeing the scene, sirs." Denny said, I having to restrain a glare. The guy made it sound like I was the one who killed Grand.

"She claims to have witnessed it." Hughes nodded as Maria said this, his fatherly attitude earlier nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, 2nd Lieutenant and Sergeant. Take Irish to central command and make sure she's okay. Don't question her until we get there." Maes said. I wasn't liking his serious tone, I had heard too much of it already this morning. Before I could get a word out otherwise, a new car pulled up, Bradley stepping out of the passenger door and approaching us. All of the soldiers saluted, but I just nodded in the general direction of the car. It's headlights were like looking at the sun. "Fuhrer Bradley, your excellency, what brings you here?" Hughes asked as the man approached Grand's body.

"I got word of what happened." He said gravely, looking down at the blood stained sheet. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you're the officer in charge of this case?" Hughes looked up, replying with a curt,

"Yessir."

"Should you need any additional personnel, just ask." Bradely's voice suddenly became rather frightening considering what he personified. "The man doing this is a traitor, I want him stopped." Both Hugh and Armstrong mirrored my own slightly nervous expression at the Fuhrer's seriousness before nodding.

"Sir." Hughes said in acceptance of the task. Bradley turned to leave, but stopped as he saw me with his good eye. He probably saw me earlier with his 'all seeing eye' thing but wouldn't have been able to with the eye patch under normal circumstances.

"Irish?" I lowered my head, looking at my bare feet. They were cold, and wet, standing out starkly against the dark stone ground. "You just can't keep out of trouble, now can you kiddo." Ugh, could he not call me 'kiddo'? Only my Uncle Thomas was allowed to call me that, not the physical manifestation of Wrath.

"I'm sorry sir," I looked up making eye contact. "Trouble has a funny way of finding me." He nodded before taking his leave, allowing me to finally relax. It made you tense to be in that guy's presence, he just made you so damn nervous that he would kill you if you said the wrong thing. I sighed, looking to Hughes then to the Armstrong Squad. "Let's get this over with, I might even take that coffee offer now Hughes."

We all got into a car, I was pretty sure it was the same one Hughes had driven me to his apartment complex in because the crumbs on the floor were suspiciously similar to the cookie Lucha had been eating that day. The drive was mostly quiet, in exception for Lucha's snoring.

"Where are your shoes?" Maria asked at one point, noticing my bare feet. I shrugged, stroking my ferret's white fluff.

"I didn't want to ruin the new shoes Mrs. Hughes bought me by using them in the rain."

"So, you went barefoot?" Denny asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. I nodded, happy we weren't talking about the murder.

"Yep. Why? Did I break another law?" I asked, worried I had broken some stupid law like we had back in the states. Did you know that in some places it's illegal to walk backwards down the street with an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday? Weird.

"No. It's just a little…" I sighed, nodding as Maria faltered.

"Strange, I know. I never really wear shoes that much since there are never any my size." I explained, even though it was a partial lie. I didn't wear shoes when they messed with my balance or I didn't want to ruin a new pair. And they did have shoes my size, the problem was, well-

"But you're feet aren't that small." Denny pointed out, observing my left foot. "Even if sizes here are different than Drachman sizes, I'm sure there'd be something-"

"No, not like that." I interrupted, putting my heels together to show the two the difference. "See? My left foot is a size seven and a half, but my right foot is a size three, uh, in Drachman sizes that is." They really were in American sizes though, which made it a pain to buy shoes. You would already spend a hundred bucks on a pair of dress shoes but oh, you have to buy a second pair! It really sucked.

"Oh…" Both of the officers said, Maria speaking up and saying, "Is foot binding from Xing practiced in Drachma?" Eek, they had foot binding around still? Ouch.

"Nah, it's a genetic thing. The bones in my feet never properly formed so when my feet started to grow, the bones were still partially fused together and, well, my right foot's the result." Denny grimaced.

"Sounds like it hurt." I nodded.

"Like hell, but it stopped when I stopped growing so it's not so bad now." They were looking at me weirdly. "What?"

"How old are you?" Maria asked, a puzzled expression on her face as she and Denny looked me up and down. I looked at my chest and crossed my arms defensively.

"Seventeen, why do you ask?" That made Denny uncomfortable, and probably Maria too but she seemed to hide it better than him.

"Uh, well, you just look...young, for your age." My turn to raise a brow at him.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"We're here." Hughes said, glancing momentarily at us as he pulled the rickety old - well, old to me - car up the road of the monstrous building known as Central Command. Sunlight was finally blessing the land with its warmth, which meant I had another long day ahead of me.

I was getting real tired of this building, we're good acquaintances, but I was not overly fond of Command so I think we need some time apart. It was not Command, it was me. Actually no, it was the guy running Command and this whole damn country that I needed to spend some time away from. Unfortunately for me, it seemed no one in the car heard about my breakup with Command, so they dragged me along anyway.

After a long series of ridiculously baffling hallways, we somehow arrive at Hughes' office. Quaint little place, nothing like Mustang's temporary office he had while he was in Central, but kind of comforting. I was actually pretty nervous. I did have my certificate with me, laminated and tucked safely into my belt, but that piece of paper couldn't protect me from interrogation methods of the 1914s.

"Sit down." Hughes 'offered' motioning to a chair in front of his desk. Armstrong, Brosh, and Ross were on the couch behind me, taking notes. Well, Maria was the only one with a pad of paper and a pen so I guessed she was the one taking notes. "So, can you tell us when happened?" I sighed, unintentionally cracking my neck as I retold the events.

"Well, I was just walking down the street and it was raining - oh Tru-ck I dropped an umbrella I borrowed, do you think we'll be able to get it back?" I asked, looking behind me to Denny and Armstrong. They didn't realize I was actually looking for answer until Hughes cleared his throat.

"Don't worry about that for now, so you were walking in the rain, how did you stumble upon the murder?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a murder, it was more of a fight. I heard some guy talking all preacher like about judgement and all so I decided to eavesdrop since it seemed interesting-"

"You didn't think to get the police?" Hughes interjected, not looking up from a note he was writing. Well, shit. Never thought about that…

"Um, well, no. There wasn't really anyone around except for the guy - Grand or whatever - and I got a little distracted after he went down the alley so anyway the guy was talking all preachy-like and I was eavesdropping. Grand sounded really confident he would win when they started fighting. I missed some of what he said, but after the fight started the preachy-guy didn't talk much. Anyway I decided to look when everything was quiet and I wasn't being shot at by freaking canons, and Grand got the guy trapped in a box. I went to go ask him if he was okay but then there were blue sparkles - alchemy I think - and a hole in the box formed. The guy had Grand by the head and I looked away when he used the alchemy stuff to-"

"You said he used alchemy?" Hughes asked, looking up. Oh, frickle frackle firetruck. Did I screw up? Truth, if you posses Lucha and tell me I didn't just give away info that might change the story in some way that'd be real great.

"Uh, yeah. I think. It was a little like what McDougal did when he froze that guy's arm back at the prison. That's the only alchemy I've ever seen before."

"They don't have alchemy in Drachma?" Armstrong asked, surprising me with his low, booming voice.

"Uh, not that I've seen." He nodded, allowing me to relax a little. Why was this so nerve racking? You're telling the truth mostly - but you probably shouldn't mention what you told Scar about his brother, that would screw shit up for sure Irish.

"Continue, please." Hughes asked, his glasses hiding his eyes from view with their glare. I never really got how glasses did that, maybe you needed special lenses...Adjusting my own spectacles, I did as he asked.

"Yeah so after Grand died I started to back away because I didn't want to mess with the guy - he wasn't going to let a witness go probably. But I kind of bumped into him and he grabbed me - oh Hughes, I lost my hat. I found this hat in that closet, real vintage 1900s stuff and it hid my hair well but it's probably still there-" Hughes cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry. Um, yeah he just kind of looked at me for a minute - my hair and eyes kind of caught him off guard I guess, and he kind of was starting to creep me out when he stared at my necklace." My hand touched the sterling silver Celtic cross.

"He took interest in your hair and eyes - your necklace, what is it, a religious symbol?" Hughes asked distractedly as he jotted down some notes. Thank Truth for me coming up with a name for the 'religion' earlier.

"Yessir, it's an Utkist cross. A symbol of martyrdom, unity, and struggle." Eh, close enough?

"Utkism, would you care to elaborate? Is it a well known religion?" Well, um, improvisation!

"The religion of Ire, my home village. It's very far in the north of Drachma by the sea, very secluded. I'm afraid it's not a well known religion by those who don't live there. Even in Drachma it has little influence beyond the far northwest." Were they buying it? Truth, why did Hughes have to have such a good poker face? Probably learned from surprise attacks on Mustang with pictures of Elicia and Gracia. That man was the absolute best. Wait, wrong time to compliment the guy interrogating you Irish - bad timing!

"Hm, a murderer of State Alchemists using a form of alchemy, and a possible connection to a small religious group." Oh, Truth. Hughes I am so sorry if this screwed up your investigation. Please don't ask me if there are any other people from Ire in Amestris please! "Could he perhaps be from your village?" Ugh, I guess that's not as bad.

"No way, I got a pretty good look at him and I knew almost every one of the maybe hundred people that live in Ire when I left only a few years ago. Besides, his skin was too dark and he had a weird scar on his forehead." I said, making up the little village of Ire in my head. A cute village where you know your neighbors and have your children marry them in arranged ceremonies. Also home to the duck religion, that worships a legendary duck called Mother Goose that was fabled to lay golden eggs. Yes, this would work nicely. Apologies any actual religions that worship ducks and geese - I needed something to convince these guys with!

"So, the Scarred Man struck again." Maria said with a sigh.

"Yes, who else has been targeting State Alchemists and killing them in an odd fashion?" Denny responded.

"The who now?" I asked, hoping to stay off the topic of the actual interrogation. Hughes looked up from his notes, his glasses no longer hiding his hazel irises.

"The Scarred Man, though most of us just call him 'Scar' for short. He's been targeting and killing State Alchemists, and it looks like Grand was his latest victim." Maes said, compiling and straightening his notes. "How'd you get away? You seem to have a knack for escaping murderers."

"One of my many unusual talents acquired from living with my weird family of freaks. One of the many…" I said wistfully, smiling at his confused and slightly concerned expression. "He let me go if you're that concerned. Lucha did bite him but, in case you haven't noticed, Lucha's a bit of a wimp." The living slinky was exploring the office, currently gnawing on Armstrong's boot lace, which seemed to entertain the big man greatly.

"Did you see where he went?"

"Nope," I swung my legs back and forth, my feet barely touched the ground in this tall chair. "I got sick with stress - you try facing off with murders twice in one week - then I ran like the wind and hoped to curl up in a ditch somewhere and pretend it never happened." Hughes nodded.

"And then you ran into 2nd Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh, correct?"

"Yepsterdoodles." He looked at me as if I had grown three heads, but said nothing as he nodded nonetheless and handed his notes to Maria.

"Thanks for your help Mac, you're free to go!" Hughes said in a suddenly jovial mood. This guy had some serious mood swings sometimes.

"Uh, can I stay for the day actually?" He looked at me in a kind of surprised manner.

"Sure, why?" I shrugged looking around the office.

"I guess I want to see if there's anything I can help with. But, I do want a list of the State Alchemists if you could get me that. There's something I want to check out." Maes seemed to think for a moment before looking to Armstrong and the amazing babysitting duo.

"Armstrong, see if you can get that list for Mac; Brosh, Ross, could you two make sure she keeps herself out of trouble - or at least keep trouble from finding her.

"Yessir," The three said, Armstrong leaving to get the list of Alchemists. Hughes turned to Denny and Maria.

"Can you two take her home so she can get a change of clothes? You must be uncomfortable in those clothes Mac." I nodded, the soaked skirt and frilly blouse collar not helping me relax.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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