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princessbrunette · 7 months ago

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as ironic as it sounds, being shy was not for the weak.

sure, there was the obvious things like finding it difficult to make friends, feeling like you might pass out any time you have to order your own food, feeling deathly embarrassed for just doing simple things like wearing a new item of clothing or using an umbrella. all of those things accumulated from an amalgamation of anxiety ridden experiences that kept you awake at night — but the worst thing you found about being incredibly shy, was being unable to stick up for yourself.

it’s not like you didn’t have things to say, lord knows if you weren’t shy you would have torn these girls to shreds. however, any time you wanted to say anything, it was like you were frozen. like an evil villain from a storybook had stolen your voice box and left you defenceless against a huddle of evil stepsisters. you were convinced the girls in your ballet class were born evil. never taught right from wrong whilst you were forced into the corner of each session hot in the face and trying your hardest to concentrate whilst they loudly comment on you like you weren’t there.

“you know pope heyward pays for her dance tuition because she’s a pogue.”

“seriously? i’d be too embarrassed to even show my face if someone else had to pay my tuition for me. it’s not even that expensive.”

“right? imagine being poor, can’t relate. my friend said she saw her stealing from sephora last week, it’s like people don’t have shame anymore.”

“no offence but she shouldn’t even be in here with us.”

the catty laughter that followed only added insult to injury, and it continued on this way for the rest of the two hour session you were stuck with them for. by the end, you were ready to just leave that place and never return. perhaps you could simply find a way to pay pope off and go back to whatever it was you were doing before you joined the dance school.

a flood of relief washes over you when you finally return to popes student apartment, using the key he’d offered you to let yourself in— body slumped from exhaustion and sore from carrying your bags. you could see on the forecast there was a fifty percent chance of going non verbal tonight, just to recover from the day you’d had.

for a second the negative thoughts slip away when the door opens and one third of your trio is stood there bouncing a football off the wall. jj maybank, one of your two lovers turns his head and beams at you — and you don’t realise you’re crumpling into a sob until you recognise the crease in his brow and the way his smile slides off his face as quickly as it arrived.

“hey? woah, uh— let’s close this door yeah sugar? lemme get these bags. why’re you crying? c’mon tell papa j.” he’s doing everything at once — closing the door behind you whilst catching your trembling body and removing your bags from your grip.

“can’t do it. can’t do it anymore.” you wail into his chest as he pats your back in disorientation. jj was never the best at this kind of thing, but he was learning. at the commotion, pope comes strutting into the hallway in his rich-boy cardigan and slacks and you can’t even look at him. he’s everything you’re not.

“jj, please don’t tell me you made her cry two steps into this damn apartment.” pope deadpans and jj’s eyes widen at the accusation.

“wh— dude it wasn’t me! she just… walked in and started crying.” his voice softens and he cradles the back of your head, watching the way popes demeanour falters and he furrows his eyebrows, stepping closer.

“hey… did something happen? we need to know.” pope tries to get through to you, but you wrap your arms around jjs neck, hiding yourself from the world. the academic boy sighs, before nodding his head to jj to gesture to bring you into the living room. “i’m… gonna make you some tea. okay?” you feel the gentle touch of his hand on your back before he departs, leaving jj to lovingly wrangle you to the couch.

before long, you’re nestled between the two with your knees to your chin, allowing yourself to be coddled by your boyfriends.

“and — and then they said i’m poor and they saw me stealing… said i shouldn’t even be in the same room as them.” you tremble, staring ahead as pope mops up your tears.

“those little prissy bit—”

“jj.” pope warns before turning to you. “look, please don’t listen to them pretty girl. you belong there just as much as anyone else. more— even.” he shakes his head with wide eyes.

“no they’re right. i feel like a fraud even existing in the same space as them.”

“you got the whole shoplifting thing under control anyway so what’s their deal?” jj stands up, restless as he rips his hat off, running a hand through his hair before beginning to spin his cap around his fingers.

“i should have been more careful.” you squeak and jj sighs, coming back to you to stroke a hand lovingly over your head.

“forget these stuck up kook assholes, okay? no offence pope.”

“none taken.”

he cups your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “you’re our little ballerina — and like, the best one i’ve ever seen. trust me, they’re mad ‘cus they’re jealous. i know that for a fact.”

“exactly. total case of jealousy.” pope chimes in, a hand resting on your lower back.

“so you’re not quittin’. you’re gonna go back to that studio tomorrow, with your head held high, and if you don’t tell them all to fuck off — i’ll come n’do it for you.” jj announces, loud and proud. you let a sniffly giggle slip, which relieves the two of them.

“jayj y’can’t do that.”

“okay — so i can’t come n’ tell them to fuck off but…” he leans in closer, suddenly dead serious. “i find out any of these chicks have brothers or boyfriends? they’re gonna have to answer to my glock. that should shake ‘em up.”

“yeah that’s smart. get kicked off campus.” pope sarks, the two of you knowing he would never actually do something like that — purely speaking out of emotion.

“for our girl? anything, dude.”

“okay well. more productively,” pope pats his thighs decisively before leaning forward to the coffee table and grabbing your mug of tea, placing it in your hands. “you’re gonna drink this, and then me and this thug are gonna make you feel all better. okay?” whilst you take a sip, pope presses a kiss to your forehead.

“feel better how?” you pout once you’d swallowed, holding your tea a little firmer as you feel jj drop carelessly into the seat beside you.

“i’m gonna massage out any aches and pains you may be experiencing from your dance class, and trust me i am well versed in the human body so i can really get in there.” pope explains, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you closer.

“mhm…” you encourage him to continue, already melting into the relaxation.

“and then, me and jj are gonna make you cum. a lot. many many times.” he states matter-of-factly, shooting a tingle through your body like he did each and every time he made a filthy promise like that. although you’re not looking at jj, you feel his hand raise in the air as he leans back on the couch.

“now that i can get behind.”

maybe you’d be okay after all.

#mouse!reader #kook!pope #jj x reader x pope

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shadowdarlings · 6 months ago

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Rain & Redemption II

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : The Lord of Spring has returned, with his nightingale in tow. While readapting to civilized life you and Tamlin face reality together.

part one

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : so i am really digging the first part of this story and decided that i want to continue writing at 12:07am so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did <3

Warnings : slight angst (with comfort), mentions of trauma, suggestiveness, as always possessive tamlin (in a good way)

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Dinner with Tamlin was a drawn out affair. The deer he hunted down, no doubt in his beast form, had to be prepped and cooked. While he began dressing the fallen creature you took it upon yourself to begin sifting through the discarded and destroyed artifacts that littered the dining area. Although the manor had been shredded and abandoned, you couldn’t help but marvel at its refreshing beauty. Here there was light. Massive glass windows looked out to a rose garden that was surely once well manicured. The sun had already started its descent past the horizon but light still streamed in from every corner. The manor was everything that your home under that gods forsaken mountain wasn’t. The Hewn City was all darkness and stale air. You began sorting things into two piles. Items that were fairly unharmed were deemed “to keep”, others that had been completely torn apart were tossed into a discard pile. The two of you worked diligently in silence until he looked up from the deer and said, “You never told me your name.” You tore your gaze from the chipped vase in your hands and met his stare. “You never asked,” you began with a playful smugness, “but it’s Y/N.” Something unreadable flickered in his green eyes before a slight smirk cracked on his face. “Well, Y/N,” he said with a dramatic pause, “our dinner is ready to be cooked. How do you like your venison?”

You both agreed that without a working kitchen that a fire would be the best way to roast the deer. While he built a fire you toyed with an idea. “What if we preserved some of this beautiful bounty into something that will last beyond a night?” you asked him. Tamlin threw another piece of wood onto the makeshift fire and answered your question with his own. “As in a jerky? How do you mean?” That was exactly what you had meant. The future of your time in this manor and when you would next have a full meal was entirely uncertain. The topic had hardly been broached. “Unless you intend to spend the rest of your days hunting and building fires, it might be a prudent idea.” He looked you over before replying, “Smart, little bird. We’ll make two steaks for tonight and dry out the rest. It should preserve overnight and we can feast on jerky for weeks.” Satisfied with your quick thinking you helped him prepare the meat for roasting.

“What did you mean when you said you are not fit to be a ruler?” you asked after another bout of silence. Tamlin stilled his spinning of your dinner over the fire and his gaze shot to the flames between you. “I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “If I’m prying too much.” He did not look up from the inferno but said quietly, “I have abandoned my people and my post. Those who reside in the Spring Court put their faith in me. I have failed them again and again, in so many ways.” You blinked once at his brutal honesty before prodding further. “Will they not look to you once more? Surely there is a way to regain their trust.” His eyes moved from the fire to your own. They were filled with such sadness, such regret. “I would not know where to start, little nightingale.” You scoffed lightly as his response. “Well,” you began, “I think leaving those woods and coming home is already a start, wouldn’t you say? If you’re willing to return just to ensure the safety of a lone Night Court citizen, I can’t imagine what you might be willing to do for your people.” The sadness in his eyes faded ever so slightly as he said, “Since you’re so full of wisdom tonight, pray tell how might I continue this path of redemption?” You smiled at that.

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Tamlin was restless. Every time he started to fade away, sleep evaded him and he was jolted awake by poisoned memories. He had declared that he wanted to sleep outside the manor to stay alert for any looters or more dangerous creatures. He’d shifted into his beast form and taken post directly in front of the entrance just as night had overtaken the Spring Court. Truly, he was not sure if he was ready to sleep under this roof again. The two of you had talked for hours, discussing your histories and what the future of the Spring Court might look like. He’d escorted you to your room and bid you a gentlemanly goodnight, but your conversation replayed in his mind endlessly. A loose plan had been set in place to begin repairing his relations with those that depended on him. You had been so eager and determined while you both brainstormed ideas for making amends. He admired your tenacity yet was not fully convinced that this plan would work effectively. The thought made him queasy. His heart began a pace that tightened his chest and he was sure that if he’d been in his fae form that his palms would be sweaty. Tamlin shoved his anxieties down and recalled what you had told him about Rhysand, about how he’d condemned the entire Hewn City to a life of cruelty and rot. Although the idea of tomorrow sent him into an unending panic, he did not wish for you or any of his people to endure the same neglect for another moment.

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The morning light creeped in through the open window in your bedroom. It took a moment to recall everything that had happened, where you now were. The bedding had been dusty but a few shakes had it cleaner than before. You didn’t mind dirt, you’d spent a year lying on the forest floor. Waking up in a soft bed had become unfamiliar, but you relished the softness of the pillows and blankets before sitting to stretch your limbs. Moving to the armoire, you sifted through the clothing to find a pale green dress and a set of cream slippers. The outfit was plain but you didn’t particularly mind. Your mission for today did not require glittering attire. You fixed your hair into a loose braid and pulled two strands from the front to frame your face. After giving yourself a once over in the looking glass you deemed your appearance fit for the task at hand.

Tamlin was already dressed in a tunic and pants that were similar in style to the night before. You only gave yourself a moment to admire his wide shoulders before clearing your throat. He turned from his work on the piles you had created the night before and said “Good morning,” before he faltered. His eyes widened slightly and dragged up and down your figure. Meeting your gaze once more he choked out, “Well don’t we look the picture of Spring today?” You rolled your eyes at him and moved to take the picture frame from his hands. “We have a job to do, remember?” Tamlin huffed out a weak laugh before replying, “How could I ever forget?” He looked tired. You wondered if he slept as marvelously as you did. Considering that he spent the night on a set of marble stones you didn’t know how he possibly could.

The two of you moved outside to where the deer had been smoking overnight. Indeed it had preserved itself into a jerky that would remain edible for weeks. He started packing the strips into the wooden bin you had found in the kitchens when you said, “I have another idea.” He did not pause his movement or even look at you as he said, “Of course you do.” You pulled a basket from behind your back and waved it in front of his face to draw his attention. “I was thinking,” you began, “we should gather some flowers to take as well. These gardens are completely overrun. There are flowers and berries that need culling anyhow.” He straightened and assessed the gardens before the manor. “As you wish,” was all he said. Tamlin had been quieter than he was last night. You thought it best not to pry further and with his permission granted made your way into the thick of the garden and began collecting the fruits of spring.

When your basket was full and Tamlin had stored all of the dried meat you both began your trek to the nearest village. On horseback, he had told you, it would only take a half hour to reach your destination. After the fall of Spring his array of horses had all been stolen or set free by anonymous citizens. After two hours of walking the two of you were tired and parched. A nearby stream trickled with fresh water and you both drank deeply from its supply. “It’s just over that hill,” he said. The hike had been mostly silent. You were learning to enjoy quiet moments with the High Lord. It was almost as if you had a mutual understanding that the silence was not rude, but instead a peaceful reprieve. “No turning back now,” you said, standing from the stream and straightening your lightweight gown. He grunted in acknowledgment as you both continued your parade to the village.

The sight of the meager town was heartbreaking. Several houses and shops had fallen into rubble and the village center had looked as equally abandoned as the manor. Tamlin halted immediately, his breath quickening. Sensing his discomfort you moved to lace your fingers between his, squeezing tightly. The High Lord did not balk from your touch but instead gave a light squeeze back and continued his approach. The two of you reached a small home that had a plume of smoke rising from a stone chimney. A sign of life. Unlocking your hands you raised a fist and gave two sharp knocks to the wooden door. A few moments of shuffling and then the door swung open to reveal a gruff looking fae male. His eyes first landed on you, then travelled upwards to the towering Lord behind you. The male’s eyes widened with shock and reproach. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he spat at you both. You calmed the annoyance that flowed through you and made your voice gentle as you said, “I- We come to offer a favor to you and your home.” The male looked down at your basket and the dried jerky Tamlin held in his hand. “We don’t need your charity,” the male responded, “we’ve been fairing well enough on our own, girl.” A sweet voice sounded from further into the house, “Mikah? Who is it?” A pretty looking female stepped into the light of the entrance and put her hand on Mikah’s arm. When she turned her gaze to the two of you her expression almost mirrored the males’. “Our High Lord and his… this girl have brought favors.” She looked down to the goods you had presented and back to Mikah. “I told them we were just fine,” he said with a hint of finality in his tone. The female scoffed at him and observed the two of you once more. “We are most certainly not,” she started. “Invite him and the girl inside.” With that she turned and strode back into the house. Mikah gave Tamlin an incredulous look but opened the door further for you to enter.

The female’s name was Cera, you had learned. She fussed over dishes and refreshments as she lamented about their struggles. The village had been ripe for naga attacks and most residents had decided to evacuate the area for fear of their families. “Mikah did not want to leave, of course. He spends most of his days hunting, although they are not always fruitful.” You and Tamlin listened carefully to her story. There were only a few families that had stayed after his disappearance. They all struggled. You glanced over at Tamlin and were met with a stern face. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with despair. Underneath the modest wooden table you grasped his hand once more, turning your attention back to Cera. The four of you spoke for several hours. You and Tamlin expressed your willingness to help in any way you could with the naga and the rebuilding of the village. After exchanging the dried meats and gifts from your basket, the two of you made your way back to the front of their house. “Thank you for having us,” you said “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Cera reached out to pick up your hands. She looked at you then at Tamlin, her eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you for coming back. We need you,” she said. He nodded his head towards her and straightened as he said, “I could not have done it alone. It will take all of us to rebuild. I am thankful for your time.”

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Tamlin let out a heavy sigh when the two of you began your walk back to the manor. The day had been filled with conversations like the first he’d had with Mikah and Cera. The two of you had made your way to most of the families remaining in the village and presented your gifts as well as your pledges to restore their homes and lives. He was exhausted. Once the two of you had crested the hill overlooking the town he paused. You looked at him in curiosity. He was overwhelmed with emotions… gratitude, despair, grief, hopefulness, apprehension. Without thinking he grabbed your waist and pulled you close against his chest. He could hear your smooth, calming heartbeat. He breathed in your scent and closed his eyes. Only two days ago he had been more beast than man. Now he was walking on two legs and meeting with the people who had once trusted him. He felt your hands wrap around his middle as you nuzzled into him further. He could have stayed like this forever, but you pulled back looking up at him with those bright gorgeous eyes. “You did well today,” you said to him still in his grasp, “I’m proud of you.” Tamlin hadn’t heard such perfect words in a very long time.

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Taglist : @lilah-asteria @booksnwriting @stained-glass-eyes0708 @anxious-cactus @thrumbolt @jesskidding3 @acotarxreader @nocasdatsgay @scorpioriesling

#acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #tamlin redemption arc #tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin

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littleadaline · 10 months ago

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Hold Me [P.G8]

Warnings: academic overwhelm, reader isn’t coping well with the stress, Pedri being a (hopefully) helpful partner. Fluuuuuff ✨

A/N: wrote this during my midterms, basically how I felt going through the sleepless nights of studying, keep in mind I have ✨ADHD✨, so my retention can often be resumed to….shit 😽😽

A/N (again): I’m publishing this at 1:12 AM, clearly shouldn’t, but I’ve been too eager lmaoo. Um.. I haven’t written in a year or two, so bear with me. I’ll try to post on a somewhat regular basis, but being a Uni student, my schedule is a bit hectic. Love 😽

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Everything felt dull. The birds had stopped singing, the sky wasn’t as bright, the wind was colder. You huffed as you woke up, not ready to go through another day of this. Pedri had already left for training, leaving you alone in the flat. You sighed, turning over to grab your phone, chuckling as you saw the messages he had sent you while you were asleep.

[Mi amor:]

Thinking of you 😘 Good luck with studying today! I’ll grab us food on the way back xx

You answer his message before making your way to the bathroom, ready to get on with your day. As you take a quick glance in the mirror, you can’t help but notice your sulked face, your tired eyes from hours of staring at your computer, tirelessly trying to understand the concept of your class. You were currently studying for your finals, something that had been consuming your entire life, barely leaving space for extracurricular activities or just, breathing. Pedri had noticed the toll it had taken on you, on your couple, seeing your date nights pushed aside for a quick study attempt. You couldn’t lie, some days you had regretted pursuing a higher education degree. A notification from your phone pulled you away from your thoughts.

[Mi amor:]

Training is done, but I’m gonna go out with the boys for a bit. I should be back in 3 hours. Are you in the mood for a poke bowl, cariño?

You let him know before heading to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As you bit through your toast, you glanced around the room. Your books and textbooks were splattered across the dining table, your pencils scattered around the room, either having fell down the table or thrown in a fit of rage. You sighed, putting down your coffee mug on the table. You knew you had to clean up your mess, not wanting Pedri to see the flat in this state. But something was preventing you from picking up your books, your scattered pencils, and the hundreds-if not thousands of Post It’s on the floor. In an attempt to pump yourself up, you sat down on the dinner table, a twinkle of hope in your eyes. You opened up your computer, your eyes glancing at the revision document. Word after word, after word, after word. Your brain barely read out the sentences, before you felt a ball in your throat, a feeling of helplessness overcoming you. Overwhelmed, you sat down on the cold floor of the flat, defeated. Why? “Why can’t I pick up after myself? Why am I so shut down?”, you muttered to yourself. You were nervously playing with the hem of your sweater, clenching and unclenching your fists, your breathing rapidly increasing. You found yourself overwhelmed; by the repetitive clinging of the washing machine you had previously started, the neighbours’ crying baby, the children playing in the park below the apartment. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much. Exhausted, you let the tears out, longing for some sort of relief, more emotional than physical. You rolled yourself into a ball, sobs hidden by the noise of your neighbourhood.

Outside this flat, no one knew about the mental exhaustion you had pushed yourself to. The restless nights, staring at the ceiling while Pedri snored peacefully next to you; the times you silently cried in the shower as your soul broke from the pressure. There was no denying it, the academic pressure had broken your soul, left it torn into shreds, your confidence down the drain. Between the sobs, you didn’t hear the front door open. You quickly wiped down the tears before scurrying to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Cariño, I’m home!”, a soft knock came from the door. You sniffled, rather loudly. “Is everything alright?”, his voice grew concerned.

You looked in the mirror, your eyes widening in horror as you saw how red they were. “Shit, shit shit,” you said dabbing some cold water around your eyes. Pedri knocked a second time, harder. “Open the door please, I’m concerned about you.”

Left without a choice, you reluctantly opened the door. Pedri was standing there, his figure towering over you, his eyebrows were knitted in worry, his lips slightly agape. His hair was slightly stuck to his forehead, most probably due to the sweat from training.

“Nena, what’s going on? Did something happen?”, he said as he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom. “C’mere.”

Settling down on the couch, your body over his, you closed your eyes; for fear of breaking down in front of him. You felt one hand settle on your back, while the other settled on top of your head. In an attempt to soothe you, he began stroking your back. You felt your body relax to his touch, your worries melting away into nothingness. Pedri was your anchor, in all the aspects possible. Whenever you were sick, or tired, overwhelmed or angry, you knew you could find solace in his arms. You don’t remember what exactly happened after sitting on the couch, but you woke up to a different scenery. The sun had set down, leaving Barcelona enveloped by a cold darkness. The apartment had been tidied up, windows closed, blinds drawn, your books neatly packed on the bookshelf, your Post It’s picked up from the floor, your pencils back into their container. All the lights were turned off, the only source of luminosity being the candle Pedri had lit up in the kitchen; almond vanilla, your favorite. Confused, you sat up.

“Pepi?”, you said, rubbing the sleep off from your eyes.

Footsteps made you turn around, a freshly showered Pedri looking at you. You saw him disappear into the bathroom before coming back out again, fully dressed and dried up. Before you were able to say anything, he sat down on the spot next to yours. His hand found yours as he fiddled with your fingers.

“Nena…I think I know what’s going on with you.”, he started.

You held your breath, afraid to hear the truth coming out of his mouth, a truth you had tried so hard to suppress and deny.

“You’ve overworked yourself, haven’t you?”, he said, lovingly stroking your hair. “You’d think all this tossing and turning at night would go unnoticed?”, he chuckled. “I have taken into account how you started biting your nails again, how little time you have to rest. Your water bottle is always sitting empty, unless I refill it for you. The snack basket’s content hasn’t moved either, unless I break your study trance and feed you. You are sitting in front of your computer every waking second you get. I’m worried about you, and your mental health.”, he said in one breath. Pedri was right. Your day was filled with dread, to have to spend hour after hour trying to memorize concepts for your degree, your mind feeling like a hole-filled sponge, never able to retain anything. Exhausted, you let the dam break. Your shoulders shaking with sobs, soaking Pedri’s shirt as well. Pedri tightened his hold on you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“You won’t go through this alone. With the upcoming international break and my injury, I will be home for the next week and a half. I have also booked you an appointment with a therapist, so you can establish coping mechanisms together… also to talk it out. And after all of this is over, I booked us a flight to your hometown.”

You looked at him in confusion.

“I think being away from your family isn’t helping you much either,” he let out. “You’ve been in Barcelona barely a year, and I believe a part of your soul is still in your hometown. I believe the beach and your grandmothers’ cooking is exactly what you need in order to come back stronger.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

You didn’t know what to say, nor how to thank him. Unable to say anything, you just let yourself crawl onto him, your head peacefully resting on his shoulder. His body wash -a mixture of sweet and spice- filled up your nostrils, as you hummed in peace. You would always be grateful for the day Pedri appeared in your life. The relationship you had built was one out of fairytales, a story of love and resilience, considering you had survived doing long distance in the early stages. You balanced out each other in more ways you could think of.

“I love you”, was the only thing you mustered up to say.

“Te quiero también, nena.” He said, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #fc barcelona

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deeranon · 7 months ago

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Aquaphobia ~ A Furina Story

Chapter: Special

Warning: badly written angst and identity issues, that’s really it

@idkfitememate hope you’re ready because I think I flopped halfway through—don’t know how proud I am of it but at least it’s out? I’m proud about getting it out at least!

Hope you like it, at least :)

___

Furina loved the people of Fontaine deeper than any ocean on Teyvat. But she could not say the same for herself. Five hundred years of acting was bound to corrode the girl that Furina once was into little pieces eventually.

And so, Furina sat in her dull bed like a doll left to its thoughts while the owner was away.

Because that was truly what she was when you looked at it, wasn’t it? A doll in a body that was never supposed to be her own. Sure, people said she was human. But they didn’t know what Furina knew.

Her body wasn’t her own.

It never was. And probably never will be.

A trail of shattered mirror shards led from the bathroom and onto the stone tiled floor, but Furina didn’t bother to pick up the pieces. White hair with natural blue streaks that faded to an ever-present dim glow was scattered on the cold bathroom floor.

Furina bled from hands that did not feel like her own. Furina never had a reason to take the gloves off for the first few years of her act, but ever since the day curiosity overtook her, she wished the gloves could have been glued to them like there was nothing underneath.

The hands were like the hair that Furina had cut off.

Fading to two different hues of blue, the left one a blue so dark it was reminiscent of the midnight zone in the ocean, while the right faded to a soft icy blue like the sky and clouds had blended together. Thick and thin streaks a shade lighter than the blue of each hand reminded Furina of rock patterns swirled around the fingers,giving the hands an already unnatural glow that seemed to hide just under the skin where the patterns lay.

Furina wished she could cut off the hands just as she did the hair. As if in retaliation for Furina not being the true owner of the body, the wounds on the hands stung like millions of small needles set on fire. But Furina did not bother bandaging the injuries obtained from breaking the mirror. She simply sat on the bed in the new apartment and stared at the waning moon.

Because what else was there to do? Go outside when the sun rises and act as if everything is okay and totally normal? Ha. What a joke. She was sure to be a living embarrassment. If Furina could even call this life. There would be pointed fingers and eyes and she would become a laughingstock. And absolutely no one would or will take her seriously again after what happened at her trial. So what was the point?

Furina slumped into cushy pillows and blankets that made her sick as she remembered the knave’s words. Standing idle. Doing nothing. Failed.

Furina had been furious at the younger woman for her behavior, and had almost completely lost her mask in front of the Traveler and Paimon, who Furina wished to never see again.

Now, Furina just felt blank thinking back on it.

What was the use of getting angry? That wasn’t even her Arlecchino was talking to. It was her masked act, focalors.

If Furina was so insistent about being free from her act, how come she couldn’t seem to let it go?

Was this what other humans called a hypocrite?

Maybe it was because she didn’t truly feel like…whoever she was supposed to be if she wasn’t acting as focalors.

The little girl living her first day of life, innocent and kind, had been oblivious of the pain to come. Maybe that was the true Furina. Who she was. Not “focalors” or the god of justice. Her.

But deep in Furina’s unowned heart, she knew that little girl had been killed by her own hands just to sell the part of god of justice. The girl, wide eyed and curious about life, now laid dead. Torn to shreds by the demands of humanity and the expectations of the true Focalors.

But Furina knew she had been the one to choke the girl to her end.

It was all for Fontaine. Furina thought as she stood over the girl’s body. Yet she did not realize how the body that held her lacking human mind cried without her knowing once again.

But the act is over now, and there is nothing left of you. You are unneeded. You have completed what you were solely made for. Now what? Furina’s mind echoed in the silence. Her brain could not give her an answer. It was simply too tired to think straight.

Five hundred years of meticulously planning every step, every smile, every reaction, every answer, wore her mind down until it turned numb to the needs of true emotion. The only emotions that remained above the tides were fear and exhaustion.

All Furina wanted to do was rest, yet she had always been terrified of the thought of letting her mind sink beneath the waves for so long. At some point in her act, Furina had dubbed sleep overrated and used the cold nights to plan the months and years ahead as she struggled to stop the ever-present prophecy. A prophecy she was told to prevent by the reflection in the mirror, when the reflection knew it couldn’t be prevented at all. The reflection that had lied.

Now, Furina wanted to sleep without fear on the second day of her life. But her mind still raced with unwanted thoughts of terror. And probably from the pain of wounded hands.

Furina knew she was going to have to get rid of the now bloody sheets in the morning, so Furina might as well get it over with now, right?

She stood on shaky ombré blue feet and yanked the thin bedsheets stained with blood off of the mattress, scattering pillows and crumpled piles of blankets everywhere. The wounds screamed in protest as she carried the sheets without even a single wince as the cloth rubbed against open skin.

Furina walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, feet already numb from the chilly tiled floor. She headed straight for the sink and dropped the crumbled ball of bedsheets into the basin before reaching for one of the faucet handles, only to pause the moment before skin touched metal.

The sound of rushing water filled her mind, and she stepped away from the sink with a sharp intake of breath.

Furina gagged as bile rose in her borrowed throat and rushed to the bathroom, uncaring for the glass shards digging into the soles of dark and light blue feet but fully aware of the sound of cracking glass. The sound echoed in her mind, reminding her of that day like a movie film stuck on repeat.

Whatever little food Furina had consumed the day before emptied itself into the toilet as Furina hunched over with tear blurred vision. Soft white hair brushed against a leg and only made Furina gag harder as she tried to control the sobbing. She wretched into the toilet once more. The sound of crunching glass only made her cry harder.

No.

Not again.

Furina’s mind screamed as its thoughts looped over and over again. Stuck in a never ending cycle.

Water.

Flood.

Prophecy.

Fake.

Water.

Flood.

Prophecy.

Fake.

Furina closed off her sense of vision in a desperate attempt to calm down while she quaked. Body trembling like a flower in the middle of a windstorm. Furina knew she was supposed to do something to calm down somehow. But what was she supposed to do again? Furina couldn’t remember. Just like she couldn’t remember anything from before her single magical meeting in this world. Why was she so forgetful? Why can’t she remember?

Shaky hands released the rim of the bile filled toilet to clamp around arms that were trembling just as much as the hands. Like all those years ago.

Everything was so cold.

Where was the warmth? It’s so cold here…

So cold…Furina was cold. The body she inhabited gave no warmth, it was like the iciest depths of the ocean personified. Furina hated it. Furina hated this body. It was so cold, why did it have to be cold? Why?

Why couldn’t it feel warm? Like a normal human that everyone claimed she was? Even when Furina knew she was anything but.

All Furina wished for now was for something in this world to protect her from the eternal cold, even for a single minute. Was that so wrong?

Yes, a shard of her mask whispered. Because you are the one who gives up your warmth for others no matter the cost.

Furina wished for something to share its warmth with her, for something to ward off the empty feeling where a heart was supposed to be. But in the end she knew this was all wishful thinking.

Limp hands brushed against jagged shards, but Furina did not wince. For she could not feel. Her borrowed body was wholly and completely cold. Fingers subconsciously reached out and gripped a shard of mirror, testing if she could feel as already open wounds deepened enough to scar. But there was no reaction.

Furina felt numb.

The glass started to crack as the grip on it tightened.

Furina felt cold.

New trails of blood seeped from a dark blue hand littered with wounds.

Furina felt willing to accept that she had no protector to shield her from the cold, from her fears, and from herself.

The shard dug into a midnight stained hand slicked with blood. But the longer the mind ignored the pain the harsher the grip on the dagger-like piece of mirror became.

The hand held on tighter.

And tighter.

And then, there was nothing.

Furina felt something wrap around the left wrist that was now covered in blood and reopened her vision to find out what it was. Because it felt warm.

Furina almost didn’t know what she was staring at. It looked like a boy, but at the same time it wasn’t a boy at all.

It looked like a boy made of some kind of water; soft pink and gentle purple and blue liquids sloshed together with glitter floating in the water in clusters like stars at night, making it nearly opaque but not quite.

The thing cradled the shard-embedded hand like it was made of glass, tilting its faceless head down to somehow stare sadly at the wounded appendage. It rubbed gentle circles into the dark blue skin before looking up at Furina and staring into heterochromatic eyes.

Furina stared back, noticing how its uneven bluish-pink water hair fell over its face while the rest was pulled into a long shoulder ponytail that shimmered with a dark blue bow also made from glittery water.

But none of that really mattered to Furina, because she wanted to know who it was and why it was here. Did it want something from her?

“Who are you?” Furina whispered hoarsely. There was no verbal reply.

The thing simply leaned forward and wrapped its arms around shaky shoulders in a hug filled with such tenderness Furina completely froze. She did not pull away and scream, nor did she push the water-creature back and run for the front door to escape from the supposed intruder. She just sat there, frozen as the thing carded its watery but somehow firm fingers through short white hair.

Because this was the first time Furina had ever been given a hug. And she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

Furina felt safe in the entity’s embrace, she felt warm. Like sunlight was streaming through a window and straight into Furina’s soul.

Furina felt protected, for the very first time in her life.

And so, Furina unknowingly started to cry. Not from sadness, but for joy.

Bloodied hands moved on their own and gripped at the entity’s shoulders as tears streamed down to the even bloodier ground. The thing didn’t seem to mind and only held Furina tighter, rubbing circles into shaking shoulders with one hand while the other continued to card through messily cut white hair. The thing couldn’t speak verbally in common tongue, or really it couldn’t speak verbally at all, but Furina could feel as it shushed and consoled her in a language all its own.

And in that moment, Furina thought of a name:

Jamarie.

The prince that protects others with the soul of a warrior.

Yes, that name fits it well. Furina thought as the world grew blurry and she welcomed sleep with ease while being cradled in Jamarie’s warm arms.

And for the first time in more than five hundred years, Furina dreamed peacefully.

#deer anon #genshin impact #🦌deer anon <3 #by deer anon #furina #furina angst #furina de fontaine #aquaphobia #writing #this was actually supposed to BE Aquaphobia but then I got a better idea #so now it’s a special chapter #won’t look anything like the actual Aquaphobia story cuz I thought of it later on #genshin fanfic #gave her a knight because she deserves someone loyal #identity issues Furina #she really did get the short end of the stick #she’s so tramautrized #so I gave her an emotional support entity

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stevethehairington · 2 years ago

Note

For '100 ways to say i love you' prompt can I get Steddie -72. 'I'll meet you halfway' something healing, some gentleness with a bit of angst/hurt/comfort?

hiiiii! thank you for sending this in!!

omg i got totally sucked into the idea i had for this one and just kept writing and writing so it is like. way past "ficlet" territory but i'm not even mad lfdgsdf.

anyways, i hope this fits the bill! and i hope you like it!

[read on ao3]

72. "I'll meet you halfway"

When Eddie had gotten dragged headfirst into this alternate hellscape dimension, DnD monsters-come-to-life nightmare shitshow, no one told him that by the end of it he’d be offering himself up as bat bait to do his part in putting an end to it all.

No one told him that he’d wind up mangled and shredded and torn apart, but still, somehow, alive.

No one told him that he’d be bedridden for months afterwards, as his body stitched itself back together. That some days would be painful at best, while others would be downright excruciating. That he’d barely be able to walk at first, or bathe himself, or even eat on his own.

No one told him that healing would be the most grueling part of it all.

But those were all things that Eddie could get over. Things that, with time, he could forgive. After all, it’s not like anyone had known that that’s how it was going to play out.

What Eddie could not forgive, however, was the fact that no one, not one single member of their rather large, rather extensive party — who had all been through this multiple times by now and therefore had the knowledge — had told him just how much Steve god damn Harrington loved to play Florence fucking Nightingale in the aftermath.

Because not only had Steve been the first to open his home to Eddie as a safe, nondescript place for him to lie low until his name had been cleared, but he’d also offered to take care of him too.

To help him change his bandages twice a day, to provide meals — delicious, home cooked meals. To make sure Eddie was staying in bed and off of his feet and was taking his medications as prescribed.

At first it was nice. It was kind. Eddie was appreciative of the help, albeit a bit embarrassed by some of the things he did need help with. But Steve hadn’t commented on it, hadn’t questioned any of it either. He’d just been there, a steady rock for Eddie to rely upon.

It’s been close to two months now, and Eddie is by no means completely healed — hell, he’s still got the stitches in his side and the limp in his walk to prove it — but his strength is already leagues better than it was at the start, and the good days are just starting to outnumber the bad ones. Walking is easier, is something he can actually do now, and he can finally move his arms enough to clean his body in the shower. He still needs help with his hair, can’t quite reach that high yet, but he likes to think that won’t be the case for much longer.

Point is, he’s making progress. Things are looking up.

Except, Steve doesn’t seem to be getting that memo.

The first thing he does when Eddie ambles out of the guest bedroom this morning is offer to make something for breakfast. Steve frames it like he’s already about to make himself some eggs to eat, so it’s no bother if Eddie wants some too, but Eddie knows that that isn’t true; as much as Steve loves breakfast food, he’s not a morning person unless he has to be. And he doesn’t have to be today.

Here he is anyway, though. Wide awake and ready to cook.

(It’s the first strike.)

It’s not what Eddie wants. He wants to do it himself. He can do it himself. He doesn’t need Steve’s help to get something to eat.

“I’m not in the mood for eggs,” Eddie tells him instead. “I’m just going to get some cereal.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Steve relents. He doesn’t argue, and Eddie’s about to count that as a win.

But after Steve sets the pan down, instead of moving towards the fridge to fetch the eggs for himself, he rises onto his toes and stretches up towards the cupboard above the stove — the one he keeps the bowls in.

Eddie watches as Steve pulls out two ceramic bowls, one for Eddie and one for himself (which only proves that he never really intended to make himself eggs in the first place, if he’s giving up so easily on them).

When he holds out the bowl for Eddie to take, it sets his teeth on edge.

Eddie takes the bowl, rougher than necessary, but Steve doesn’t even bat an eye. He just continues on his mission, taking the milk from the fridge before tucking it under his arm as he digs through the pantry for not one, not two, but all three brands of cereal he owns. Steve brings them all to the kitchen island and sets them down in front of Eddie — as if he couldn’t walk the four steps it would take to cross the kitchen and pick the kind he wanted himself. As if that would’ve taken so much out of a cripple like him.

(That’s strike two.)

Irritation simmers beneath Eddie’s skin as he fixes his bowl of cereal. He has to bite his tongue to keep from making some nasty remark about his surprise that Steve didn’t just pour the bowl for him and maybe even spoon feed him too.

He takes the seat at the very end of the island, the furthest one away from Steve, and he keeps his head down as he eats his Honeycomb, silently and aggressively.

It’s after he finishes his breakfast that the third and final strike of the morning comes along and pushes Eddie right over the edge.

He stands up too quick. That’s all it is. He stands up too quick and the stitches in his side pull, sending a sharp twinge of pain down his torso and into his legs. He sways on his feet, wincing, but he catches himself — because he’s strong enough to do that now.

Only, that doesn’t stop Steve from swooping in.

He’s across the kitchen and at Eddie’s side in an instant, one hand curling around his waist while the other tugs Eddie’s arm around his shoulders, acting as a support that Eddie doesn’t need.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying to duck out from under Steve’s arm.

He doesn’t let him though.

“Eddie, come on, you’re—”

(And that’s strike three.)

“Jesus christ,” Eddie bursts, throwing his left elbow out to knock Steve’s arm away from his waist. He shakes out his right hand too until Steve’s grip loosens and he can yank himself free.

It hurts, to jerk away that harshly, but Eddie ignores the fresh spikes of pain that accompany the sharp movements. The need to get away overpowers the need to not hurt right now.

He just can’t take another second of Steve’s coddling.

“Stop. Stop! You have to stop!” Eddie shouts, gripping onto the edge of the island to steady himself.

Steve, through all his concern, looks completely taken aback. Like he didn’t see any of this coming. “What?” He asks, bewildered. “What the hell man? I’m just trying to help!”

Eddie lets out a frustrated growl and squeezes his hand into a fist at his side. His nails bite into his palm, but he doesn’t care. It’s a nice redirection of pain, if anything. Of anger, too.

“I don’t need your help,” he snaps back.

Steve bristles at the harshness of his tone, his own hackles rising. “No, you don’t want it — that’s different.”

“No, Steve,” Eddie counters again. “I don’t need it. Not with every little god damn thing. I mean, jesus christ, you’re treating me like I’m a… a fucking— porcelain doll or something! Like I’m going to break if I… if I… if I try to walk to the bathroom on my own or try to make myself breakfast or,” he laughs bitterly, gestures at the stool, “god forbid, if I stand up too fast! I’m not an invalid!”

Steve winces, then sighs, and it’s like what little fight he’d had to begin with drains right out. “I know I’m being a lot,” he starts, and Eddie wants to laugh again, wants to shout ‘you think?’ in his face. He doesn’t. Keeps his mouth closed and lets Steve finish.

“But, jesus, Eddie, you didn’t see yourself. Those bats,” he shudders, “they made a fucking feast out of you. You were— your heart stopped. You died.”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face, leaning all of his weight back against the edge of the sink, like he can’t carry it anymore. When he drops his hands, he looks haggard under the fluorescent light of the kitchen. “I had to administer CPR,” he says.

Eddie’s breath catches. He didn’t know that part. He doesn’t know a lot of what happened that night, if he’s being honest. Most of it is one big blur in his brain. Eddie remembers the concert with Dustin, remembers the bats and the trailer vents, remembers sending Dustin up that rope, but everything after he cut it… the memories are like grains of sand slipping through his fingers.

He didn’t know.

Steve takes a couple seconds to appraise Eddie then, to search him for… for something.

“We— I fought to get you back, Eddie,” he says, with feeling, “and I’m going to fight to keep you here. I’m not going to let you flounder.”

Eddie swallows, lets the fist at his side dissolve as the last of his defensiveness leaks out of him. The knot in his shoulders loosens, and the flame that had been licking at his insides, firing him up, fizzles out until it’s nothing but fading embers. He takes a step towards Steve, hesitating. Then another and another and another until he’s by his side.

“Steve,” he says, lifting his hand to touch, but he stops himself before he can. “I’m— I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, I really am.” Eddie pauses then, and Steve finally looks up to meet his eyes. “But that’s the thing. I’m not like that anymore. I’m not— fragile. I’m not going to break. I’m getting better every day — thanks to you! — but that means I can do things on my own now.”

Steve’s eyes drop again, and some of his hair, soft and productless, flops down over his brow. “You don’t need to,” he argues weakly, and there’s that word again. Need.

“Yeah, but I want to,” Eddie replies, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he continues on. “And that doesn’t mean I don’t still want you around. I— I do,” he says, and it feels like a confession. He tries not to think too hard about that. “I just… don’t need you to take care of me anymore.”

“But what if that’s what I want?” Steve asks. “What if I want to take care of you?”

It feels like something bigger, when Steve says it. Like maybe he isn’t just talking about this, the aftermath. Like maybe… maybe he’s talking about more.

And that’s the kicker. The thing that Eddie doesn’t get. Steve went through so much to save him. To rehabilitate him. And he still wants to do more. Eddie doesn’t understand why. Steve barely knew him before. He still barely knows him now. He doesn’t owe Eddie anything.

“Why?” Eddie asks, unable to stifle the curiosity.

Steve smiles then, this wispy ghost of a thing, but it’s there. Eddie sees it. It pulls at his cheeks and softens his eyes.

Steve shrugs, scuffs the bottom of his socked foot against the linoleum. “Because I like you,” he says, and Eddie’s heart flops traitorously in his chest. “Because I want you around too. Because taking care of people is what… it’s what family does. And like it or not, you’re part of this family now.” He says it firmly, like Eddie has no choice in the matter.

Edide doesn’t want a choice.

He’s never been… never been part of a family before. Not one like this. One so full of loyalty, and devotion, and love.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say back, doesn’t know if he’d be able to say anything even if he did know what, with the thickness of his throat and the burning around his eyes that tells him he’s close to tears.

So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes that last teeny tiny step into Steve’s space, and he hugs him.

It catches Steve off guard but only for a second before his arms curl back around Eddie. They hover, though, like he’s afraid of hurting him.

For once, that makes Eddie smile. “I’m not going to break,” he whispers into Steve’s ear, tightening his own hold on Steve.

Steve chuckles softly, but he finally finally settles his arms properly around Eddie — safe, warm, tight — and lets himself melt into the hug.

Eddie buries his face into Steve’s neck, feels the way Steve presses back into his hair. He holds on tight, drinks in his fill; he doesn’t want it to end.

When they break apart a few long seconds later, they don’t go very far. Steve’s arm stays wound around Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie keeps one of his tucked around Steve’s back.

“I have a proposal,” Steve announces, glancing over at Eddie.

Eddie lifts an eyebrow.

“I propose… a compromise,” Steve says. “How does this sound: I’ll meet you halfway in all of this.” He brings his hand to his chest. “I’ll still help you with your bandages. I’ll remind you about your meds. I’ll keep washing your hair until you can do it yourself. But I’ll lay off the rest.”

Steve moves his hand to Eddie’s chest now, poking a finger right to the center. “You get to walk to the bathroom alone, you get to make yourself breakfast, and if you’re falling I’ll only catch you if you want me to.”

A little late for that one, Eddie thinks to himself offhandedly.

“But,” Steve continues, still in that purposeful tone, “you have to promise me that if you do need help, you’ll ask for it, okay?”

Eddie smiles. Nods. “Okay,” he says. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Steve says firmly, and he holds up his pinky.

It makes Eddie want to giggle of all things. A pinky promise. Like they’re god damn children. Except, he knows how seriously Steve takes pinky promises. Knows that they mean more to him than any other kind of promise.

Eddie feels sort of special, getting to have one with Steve.

He sticks out his own pinky, only just before Steve can lock them together, he curls his back in.

“You too, though,” Eddie adds, seriously. “You’re allowed to ask for help too, y’know. Just because my bites are worse doesn’t mean yours aren’t bad too. This goes both ways, Harrington.”

Steve nods. “Deal,” he says.

“Deal,” Eddie echoes.

They lock their pinkies.

Things are going to be okay.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

#asks #zerokrox-blog #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mack writes #macks ficlets

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staar5384 · 2 years ago

Text

Miscalculation

kavetham angst; mentions and brief descriptions of torture; strays slightly from canon. barely proof read

Alhaitham's plan was perfect.. so how did Kaveh end up in Azar's office?

When Alhaitham had made his plan to overthrow the Sages and free Lesser Lord Kusenali, he had thought of everything. It was almost as if he predicted exactly how each event would played out. Well, until he was in the Grand Sage’s office, and lying on the ground before him was his roommate, or more accurately the man he had fallen in love with, Kaveh.

The blond’s clothes were completely torn from head to toe, blood staining whatever was left of the shredded cloth. His once beautiful face was caked in dried blood, cuts and bruises. He looked almost unrecognizable. The damage didn’t stop there though, many of those same gashes and bruises were scattered on his body.

The boy was barely conscious, his eyes half-lidded as he stared thoughtlessly out at the office. His skin was much paler than usual, from blood loss one could only assume.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham breathed out, staring at his roommate.

“Ahh I see you two are well acquainted,” Grand Sage Azar said in a mocking tone. “I knew I was right for plucking him up.”

“What does he have to do with this?” He glared at the Sage. “Why are you dragging innocent people into this problem?”

“Well, Alhaitham, since you decided to run away, to betray me, I decided I needed something as.. leverage.”

“I didn’t betray you. I brought the damn Traveler and her floating friend with me. I did exactly as you instructed, so what’s the point of bringing Kaveh into this?”

“Because I knew you had some ploy brewing up. You were going to ‘betray’ the Traveler here, right?” Azar crossed his arms, his eyes piercing into Alhaitham’s shaking gaze. “After all, I got eye witness reports of you and the Traverler in the Caravan Ribat. Instead of bringing her here, you escaped into the desert. If you were really working with me, you would have brought her immediately. I’m assuming you also met up with General Cyno, did you not? Anyone would assume you would have betrayed us with a little persuasion?” Alhaitham, a man who could always quip back instantly was stuck.

His whole plan had fallen apart the moment he saw Kaveh’s disheveled body. He forced himself to regain his composure, “Regardless, this is always baseless guesses and not facts. I brought you the Traveler and gave you my report. Bringing Kaveh into this was nothing, but a way for you to vent out your frustrations.”

Azar laughed, “My my you are hopeless, Alhaitham. You are so upset over this, aren’t you?”

Alhaitham’s hands began to shake, the more Azar spoke the more he was ready to betray their plan. By the amount of blood leaking from Kaveh’s body, the man could die at any moment, “It doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll see me as a traitor regardless,” He scoffed.

“Whether you impugned me, it would have little affect on you. There was no need to go to such lengths to get me back.”

“Ahh, but you’re mistaken. See, losing our Scribe would be a big loss to us. It would effect the entirety of the way the Akademiya functions. Though.. compared to our current project, things like this are trivial at best.”

Alhaitham had enough of Azar’s rambling and his lack of care for human life, “You say I betrayed the Akademiya, but that was all you Azar! You betrayed Sumeru and its archon.”

“So fight has turned to flight at long last,” He glanced around at the men surrounding the area. “Guards! Seize Alhaitham!”

Alhaitham knew what he needed to do, what the next step was, but if he just let himself get arrested without helping Kaveh, he was going to die, “Wait!” He slowly stepped forward, guess it was time for him to improvise.

“What is it Alhaitham?” “Take Kaveh to the infirmary and get him treatment, then I will go with you peacefully,” The plan would almost work perfectly, but he still needed to swap the knowledge capsules.

“Fine. It’ll make this quicker,” He snapped at two of the guards. “Carry the architect to the infirmary for treatment.”

The two guards swiftly picked the blond up, carrying him out of Azar’s office.

Alhaitham watched them intensely as the three disappeared. As long as Kaveh was safe… He reached for the Divine Knowledge Capsule and activated it, allowing the intense knowledge to flood his mind. It was all consuming, but luckily, he knew how to not let it affect it.

His breathing suddenly became erratic as his Akasha flickered between red and blue, eventually landing on the deep red color. He stared up at the Grand Sage, a great hatred flooding over him. Not just for what happened with Lesser Lord Kusenali, but for him having the courage to touch the man most precious to him.

He stumbled forward, his head throbbing and vision blurring. Still, he pressed forward, he had a job to do, "Azar…" The capsule fell to the ground below him.

Azar's eyes moved from the seething man before him and to the object that landed on the ground, "So you were the one that stole that Divine Knowledge Capsule…" He flicked his eyes back to Alhaitham, who was slowly inching closer. "I should have known you wouldn't go out so easily. All you cared about was saving that architect."

"Traitor… You traitor!" Alhaitham yelled at him, pushing past the terrified guards to charge the sage. A guard pushed Azar out of the way, a moment later and Alhaitham most certainly would have caught the man, and from there, who knows what would have happened.

Alhaitham collided with the desk on impact. Perfect. He carefully switched the Knowledge Capsules, his plan now finally coming together. He spun back around to chase Azar once more, but the guards finally acted. They blocked him from moving any further. "He's gone completely insane," Azar scoffed as he adjusted his monocle.

A guard came up behind Alhaitham, using his spear to knock him out with a good whack to the back of his head.

The man fell to the ground, unable to focus on anything but the spinning feeling clouding his mind. "Take him to the matra and have him exiled to Aaru Village."

Everything was going perfectly to plan now. Alhaitham was tugged onto his feet and dragged out of Azar's office. However, he still couldn't help, but worry for Kaveh.

That idiot better be alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Kaveh awoke, he didn't expect to find Cyno standing over him with a clear look of concern. If anything, he expected himself to be dead.

"Kaveh, you're awake," Cyno said, letting out a loud sigh of relief.

He sat up quickly. Bad idea. "C-Cyno?" As soon as the blond spoke, he began to cough violently and blood spewed from his lips. He wiped the liquid from his mouth, the red staining his bruised arm.

"Careful there. You look like shit," Cyno eased him.

Kaveh laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. How did any of this happen?

"Kaveh, what happened to you?" Cyno asked, though it was clear he already knew exactly what happened, just based on inference. He took a deep breath, a burn piercing his lungs as he did so. It was going to be almost impossible to speak in this condition. Cyno took note of it, "Alright new approach. I'll ask yes or no questions and you use your head. Sound good?"

Kaveh nodded.

"Perfect," Cyno adjusted himself, sitting on the chair he had placed beside the bed moments prior to Kaveh waking up. "I'll be blunt, you look like you were tortured. Was this Azar and or his men?"

Another nod.

"I figured as much. Did this have to do with Alhaitham?" Kaveh nodded once more. He could recall everything that had happened, down to the pain he felt as they tore his skin apart each time he said something they didn't like.

"Can you do your best to tell me what happened? I'll need it for my investigation."

"I-I can try," His voice was still hoarse, but at the very least he was speaking well enough. "I guess I can start when I returned home from the desert…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaveh had finally made it home a few days early after spending days stuck in the desert for a project. He wasn't complaining one bit, the project tired him out and he was ready to sleep in his own bed for once.

When he opened the door, it was noticably silent, though Kaveh wasn't complaining. He assumed Alhaitham was away from home, it was common for the Scribe to be incredibly busy.

Before he could even reach his room, there was a knock on the door. Immediately, his head went to the worst. Someone saw him come inside. The last thing he wanted was for someone to know he lived here. He groaned loudly, hesitantly making his way back towards the door.

As he opened it, he was ready to throw himself deeper into debt and beg this person not to tell a soul about this, but to his surprise it was the matra at his door, "Uhh, can I help you?"

"We need you to come with us, Kaveh."

"What? Why?" He asked, confused. He had only just returned, what could he have possibly done to set off the matra?

"Grand Sage Azar wishes to speak with you. He requires your presence right this instance."

Kaveh went from confused to anxious as soon as Azar's name left the man's mouth. He was definitely screwed, "Alright… Did he tell you why?"

"He will answer your questions," The matra guard shook his head. "I'm afraid this is all I can say."

Kaveh hesitated, but followed the matra out the door and to the Sage's office. His heart was racing, trying to figure out what he could have possible done to piss off the Grand Sage.

As they entered the room, there was a sudden shift in energy. All at once, Kaveh was terrified.

And terrified he should be. He didn't even get a chance to make it to the desk before he was pinned down and tied up. "What is going on!?" Kaveh cried out, trying to shake the guards off of him.

"Kaveh, wonderful to see you. I have a few questions regarding your.. roommate? Is that what I would call it, or should I address you two as something more?"

"What about Alhaitham?" He ignored the uncomfortable question regarding their status as "friends". "If you wanna know something why don't you ask him yourself?"

"You see I would," Azar stepped closer, each stepping becoming heavier than the last. "But I cannot seem to find him. He's gone completely off the radar. I was hoping maybe you knew?"

Kaveh shook his head, "I just got back from the desert. I don't know a damn thing about where Alhaitham could have crawled off to."

Clearly, the answer was unsatisfactory. A blade was pressed against Kaveh's throat. He gasped, staring at the sharp knife, "I-I swear I don't know where he is!" He was shaking, fear overwhelming him.

Azar let out a sigh, "How unfortunate I have to resort to this," He turned his back to the blond. "Torture the answer out of him. Don't stop until you get what we need."

That was exactly what those guards did. Every "no" Kaveh uttered resulted in a punch, a kick, a snap to one of his bones, and if he was incredibly unlucky, a blade tearing into his skin.

This torture lasted for what felt like hours. Constant paining coursing through his body and he almost wished they would just kill him. It was clear this went from a brutal questioning to the men getting some sick satisfaction from seeing the blond writhing in pain.

By the time they had concluded this torture, Kaveh was barely conscious and his body had gone entirely numb. The last thing he remembered was Alhaitham's voice uttering his name. After that, it was all blurry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Azar is a despicible man," Cyno growled and his fists trembled in anger.

"I genuienly didn't know," Tears filled Kaveh's eyes. "I don't understand why this happened."

"I can explain everything later, okay? You should get some rest," Cyno rose from his chair. "I will come check on you later, okay?"

Kaveh nodded in response. He didn't want Cyno to leave, however. All he wanted was context, reasoning. Why did he have to suffer like this? And where the hell did Alhaitham disappear to?

His eyes closed, his body having spent all of its remaining energy on the conversation with Cyno. As soon as they closed, he was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wait in Aaru Village felt like an eternity to Alhaitham. He had no way to confirm Kaveh's condition, or if he was even still alive, and it was eating at him.

When he was finally able to head back to Sumeru City, he moved as fast as he could. The desert sand collected in his shoes as he ran, but the feeling barely affected him. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: Kaveh.

After hours of running, he made it to Sumeru City, and just as quickly he was at Kaveh's bedside.

The blond was breathing normally luckily, but he wasn't conscious. Alhaitham slumped down in the chair, pulling off his sand filled boots. He tried to catch his breath, his lungs burning and throat coarse. All of that running tired him out more than he wished.

He focused his attention back on Kaveh, tears forming in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away. He had no intentions of crying, not now. Alhaitham extended his hand out to carefully grasp onto Kaveh's hand. It was cold and pale, the skin damaged from whatever torture he had to undergo on Alhaitham's behalf.

As he caressed his thumb on the top of his hand, tears finally fell. This was his fault. It was a complete oversight, a miscalculation in his plan. Though, he couldn't have forseen the architect returning so soon, or that Azar knew anything about Alhaitham's feelings.

Kaveh began to stir, his eyes fluttering open. They quickly made contact with Alhaitham's and his eyes widened, "Haitham..?"

Kaveh's broken voice twisted Alhaitham's heart, and he continued to remind himself this was his fault, "Kaveh you're alive…" He spoke, trying to hide his emotions.

"Shockingly," The blond took notice of their hands. "What the hell happened..?"

"I can explain later. It's a lot of information to take in right now."

Kaveh let out a deep sigh, "I don't understand why this had to happen, Alhaitham." Guess the nickname wasn't staying long. "What did you do that made them torture me?"

"They were using you to get to me," Alhaitham tilted his head toward the floor. "They knew it would arise a reaction out of me."

"Why? What in Teyvat could they possibly get out of you from torturing me?"

"Because I…" Alhaitham hesitated. Now wasn't the right time, but it was the only way to explain why this happened. "I love you, Kaveh. Azar knew this somehow and he dragged you into this to provoke me."

"You love me?" Kaveh stared at him, letting out a hollow laugh. "Don't say that, Alhaitham. I can handle the physical torture, but I don't need this kind of mental pain."

Alhaitham leaned down, connecting his lips with Kaveh's. It wasn't the best kiss, not by a long shot, but the two yearned for this closeness, this warmth. Even with Kaveh's bruised and swollen lips, the kiss was perfect to them both.

When Alhaitham pulled away, he stared intently into Kaveh's eyes.

The blond's face was flushed red, his eyes glossed over, "Do you mean it, Haitham?"

The silver-haired man nodded, "I do."

"Then I love you too."

Alhaitham squeezed Kaveh's hand gently, "I swear I'll protect you. This won't ever happen again."

Kaveh smiled slightly, "I trust you."

"I'm glad you do."

#fanfiction #genshin #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin fanficition #kavehtham #alhaitham genshin #kaveh genshin #alhaitham x kaveh #haikaveh #kavetham angst #angst #genshin angst #genshin impact kavetham

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robotstrategy · 4 months ago

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Rediscover • Part 1 • 2 - Roland and Nero

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next Roland has an airplane blanket wrapped around him as the plane takes off, getting on the plane was so easy, yet so hard for him at the same time. Of course, because of the piloting license, he was deeply trusted by security, and this made him feel like a fraud. These people would’ve once torn him to shreds, now they’re just giving him friendly reminders that his mask should stay on at all times once he crosses the border.

Roland goes to itch the bridge of his nose before his finger is stopped by the shield of plastic covering his face. He sighs, lifting the bottom of the mask with one hand to awkwardly squish a finger in up to his nose to itch it.

“Tired?” Nero asks him. She looks all ready for the summer, pink, floral, ruffled crop top and all.

He shakes his head. “No, I just hate travelling already.”

Nero quietly laughs, she nudges him. “At least you’re not already being profiled. When I was in charge of air delivery I was feared and respected with this mask on. Now, everyone who looks at me thinks they’re my next victim.” It had surprised both of them that Nero wasn’t profiled for Mason’s face but rather the symbol on her mask, even if she was labelled hostile by proxy.

“At least you’re not being baby-talked and coddled.”

“I’d rather have that than whatever I’m getting now.”

Roland turns away from her, looking towards the window. He watches the clouds go by as they keep moving forward, even though he’s older and understands what clouds are made of, they never stop looking so fluffy to him. He imagines they would be great for laying on when his back aches, and they’d probably be just as comfortable as Hayden’s bed sheets.

Hayden, it had been a week since he’d been at his apartment. He told himself that he’d leave Hayden’s side before the guy had the chance to wake up, but as Roland started stirring around 4 all he wanted to do was to lay back down in Hayden’s arms. So he did, and in the morning he woke up to Hayden having placed an arm around him while the other one scrolled his phone. Roland moved towards his face, their eyes locked and so did their lips. After a moment he pulled away from him, Hayden looked star-struck, he set down his phone and pulled Roland onto him. He hung his arms around Roland's neck as he turned the kiss into something more. After a moment of passion, Roland breaks away from him, panting. “I guess the second time's the charm.” He laughed. His forehead was still planted against Hayden’s, but he could feel him frown.

“I don’t want to forget about the party, Hayden.” He could feel himself being gently pushed off of him.

“Hayden?” He calls out as Hayden rises from the bed. “Do you want breakfast?” He asks flatly as puts a housecoat around himself.

“Hayden?” He calls out again.

“It’s a yes or no question, Roland.” There’s a sense of sadness in his voice.

Roland gives up trying to get an answer from him. “Yes Hayden, I’d like breakfast.” He sighs.

It felt like he could still feel Hayden’s lips against his, for how roughly they were pressed against each other it felt like a flame went out when he was let go.

Humour is something Nero can do, it’s something that makes everything seem okay, people are made happy and she can go on with her life knowing that others think she’s full of joy. But she’s not. Nero has been doing nothing but brooding behind a happy exterior. She has felt empty ever since Sam left to visit Molokai. The emptiness is like the one she once felt during the beginning of her rewinding, the one that she constantly filled with something new. She had forgotten how painful and irritating it felt.

It will be hard to fill that void on this trip if it can even be filled at all. Roland’s company doesn’t seem to be doing anything for her, and it’ll be almost impossible to have friendly conversations with others when the word ‘HOSTILE’ is projected on her face.

At least there’s Bambi, Bambi seems to listen to her problems as long as she listens to hers. The only problem is that she hasn’t told Bambi about her face yet, and she feels she’s gone too far in their relationship to tell her now. It would be like betraying her, so no matter what, she swears she’ll never meet Bambi in person. Even if she's the closest thing to her child’s father.

Nero huffs, folding her arms after placing earplugs in to drown out the sound of a crying baby. She looks to the man beside her on the outer row, who has been doing nothing but nervously humming for thirty minutes, these earplugs might be good for drowning him out too.

The absence of sound unnerves her; there's the sound of a boy panicking in her head while two older voices calm the boy. He seems to be freaking out, telling them he can’t hear. Nero takes out one of the earplugs, waves it in her view and puts it back into her ear, hoping she got the message across to the boy who screams in her head.

Nero sighs and lays her head against the back of the chair, slowly dozing off. Dreams are weird for Nero. They always play out like little kids role-playing and then getting mad that the other kid isn’t playing the way they want to. Her dreams go one way, and then someone in her head disagrees with it and somehow tunes it the way they want it to go. If she doesn’t have completely mundane dreams all night they’re usually feverish nightmares.

She wakes up bleary-eyed as Roland continuously taps her on the shoulder.

“Guh, it’s time to get off now isn’t it?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

Roland nods, he passes her down the gym bag she brought on the flight. Once Roland gets his things both of them get off the plane and into the airport, where they’re set to get on a bus that will take them all the way to a camp in Muskoka.

#unwind #unwind dystology #unwind fanfic #unwind series #sequel fic #roland taggart #unwind oc #recalled nero t.#hayden upchurch

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mirkwoodshewolf · 6 months ago

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No following; Planet of the apes fanfic Chap. 13

*Author's note*

Get the tissues out for this chapter guys cause this one gets pretty sad in the beginning but also some pure AWW moments as well. Here we also get to see the blooming relationship b/t Aunt Lin and Blue Eyes. Sorry not sorry for the large length of this chapter but this needed to be done before the war that's about to begin in the next chapter. So enjoy my darling Ape fans.

WARNING AHEAD: Graphic details of ape attacks and mauling in the first part of the chapter. Like this is what actual ape attacks are like if none of you know about it so those who have weak stomachs or are sensitive to such graphic detail, just skim on down a few paragraphs and you'll be okay.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@waddles03

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@queen-paladin

_________________________________________________________

When the first sign of dawn was approaching, I finally took the plunge and got out from my hiding spot and navigated my way back towards the main road. I don’t know if Malcolm and the others survived, and to be honest I didn’t care. They brought this upon themselves the second Carver was assigned to come on this mission.

And because of him Caesar was now…..I soon felt myself trip over something and I exclaimed.

“Damn it all! Stupid rocks making me trip…..” I trailed off before I shrieked at what I saw. It wasn’t a rock that I had tripped over, it was Kemp’s body.

Had I not know that those were his clothes, I wouldn’t have even recognized him. His face had been completely torn to shreds, his nose ripped completely off his face, his teeth beaten out and his hands completely torn apart, hardly any fingers were left on his hands. I turned just ahead and I saw Foster’s body not too far from Kemp’s. Much like Kemp, his face had been completely ripped apart, his clothes torn apart and much in chimp fashion his dick had been completely ripped out.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered as I stood up and raced away from the gruesome sight. I have seen horrible deaths before in the past ten years but I think for Foster and Kemp, their bodies will forever stick out as the most gruesome and horrifying way to go. Death by vengeful apes.

I continued to walk down the trail, the distant smell of smoke rising over the trees from where the ape home had been burnt. By now the fire must’ve receded and all that would be left is the trail of smoke. I continued to walk aimlessly down the hill until I came across another figure.

I gasped and collapsed to my knees, my legs feeling like lead as I saw a figure I’d hoped I didn’t have to see in such a state. It was Caesar.

He was laying on his back, the gunshot wound so close to his heart. A pool of blood staining his fur, and his green eyes still opened but he remained still.

I felt sick to my stomach but I also felt a heartbreak that I hadn’t felt in years. Caesar was the only remaining family I had left in this world and now—now the entire Rodman troop was gone. Grandpa was dead, Will and Caroline are dead, and now Ceasar’s…..

As I finally knelt beside him I felt the burning sensation past my eyes as I slowly reached out and finally touched his face. His fur felt course from the years of exposure but it still had such a shine to it. Tears slipped past my eyes as I let out choked sobs. Shaking my head as I leaned my forehead against his and continued to stroke his face as well as down his chest, careful to avoid his wound.

“No…..” I silently choked out. The tears now fully starting to roll down my face. “NOOO!!!” I soon screamed out in all manners of despair, grief, rage and shock. I threw myself over Caesar’s body as I wept into his chest stroking through his fur as the only sign of comfort. “I’m sorry brother ape….” I whimpered out.

As I continued to sob, I rolled over to my side so that my ear now rested over his chest and I continued to sob. My hair blocking half of my face as I continued to weep in my brother ape’s chest.

“It’s my fault… It’s all my fault….” I choked almost silently as I continued to stroke through Caesar’s fur.

“Dad!” I heard Alexander’s voice call out. At this point I didn’t care how they’d see me now. I know I tried to create a reputation for them these past three years but at this point I didn’t care anymore. Let them put the pieces together of what Caesar means to me, let them figure out who I am, I didn’t care.

All I wanted was to just grieve over my little brother in peace.

I closed my eyes and just continued to stroke Caesar’s fur and succumbed to my grief.

“Lin.” Ellie’s sympathetic tone rang in my ears. I sniffled and buried myself deeper into Caesar’s fur. That’s when I felt a finger softly stroke up my spine. “Lin!” this time Ellie’s voice became more alarmed.

When my brain finally connected that it wasn’t Ellie who had touched me, I looked up and saw Caesar’s eyes starting to flicker with movement. His chest ever so slowly rising and falling as he directed his attention to me.

“Caesar?” I called out as I cupped his face while Ellie called for Malcolm with such urgency.

“Hang on Caesar, we’re going to get you help. Ellie, Alexander get over here and help me!” they came over and soon Malcolm appeared and asked.

“What is it? What….”

“He’s alive!” I told him.

“What? But…..”

“Now’s not the time for questions. It’s gonna take all of us to move him. Please tell me the trucks are close by.” I said urgently.

“Yeah, they’re just down the hill.”

“Alright. Malcolm, Ellie I’d like for you guys to take Caesar’s upperbody, Alexander, you and I will get his legs. Try to keep him evenly balanced and don’t jostle him around too much. I believe the bullet might still be in him.”

“How can you tell?” asked Alexander.

“Trust me, I know the difference in a pool of blood from a bullet wound with an exit point vs one that doesn’t.” we all gathered around Caesar. Malcolm and Ellie placing their arms under his back while Alexander and I got his feet. “Alright remember to lift with your knees, we’re carrying a chimpanzee’s dead weight and it’s gonna be heavy. On three together, ready?” Malcolm and his family nodded as I counted down, “One…two…three. Lift. Gently, gently. Careful.”

Very carefully we all lifted Caesar’s body off the floor. I looked at the grass and it gave me my confirmation that there was indeed no exit wound so this was going to be even more painful for Caesar if we move him too much.

“Alright Malcolm, lead us on.”

“Lin, there’s….something I should warn you about.” Malcolm said to me.

“There’s no time you can explain on the way. We’ve got to move Caesar now.” Malcolm didn’t say another word as we proceeded to walk towards the trucks.

Along the way the corner of my eye caught something white and when I turned around I was mortified at what it was. It was Kiba lying in a pool of blood, the top half of his muzzle almost completely bitten off, parts of his face, neck and legs had large chunks bitten off, but his fangs were also stained with blood so I knew he didn’t go down without a fight.

“I’m sorry Lin. And it wasn’t just him.” Malcolm said solemnly. My heart broke as more tears slid down my face.

“We need to keep moving.” We continued to walk and as we did, I soon saw that Tsume, Toboe and Hige had met the same fate as Kiba did. Large bite wounds, gauged eyes, beaten or ripped off noses, and their furs stained with large pools of blood.

We finally got to one of the trucks and we carefully got Caesar into the back of the truck. It was a struggle but we finally managed to do it and I immediately got into the back with him. I took notice of how he was now fully conscious and aware of where he was now.

“Lin….” He said with a gruff, hinting at the exhaustion I knew that was consuming him.

“Shhh, shh, shh. Try not to speak, you lost a lot of blood.” I told him softly as I began putting pressure on the wound.

“My…..son.” I looked up at Caesar and saw just how frightened and broken he was. The desperation and fear that he didn’t know what happened to his family after he was shot. “My…..family.” his lip trembled and it broke my heart to see him this afraid. “Where?”

“I don’t know.” I told him honestly as I softly shook my head. “I’m so sorry Caesar.” But it didn’t help as I saw a tear slip down past his eye. And his heartbreaking expression deepened made me feel like I had gotten punched in the gut.

“Lin, I need you to keep pressure on his wound.” Ellie told me. I nodded as I took out my bandana and placed it over his wound before once again pressing down on it.

“Lin’s right, he’s lost a lot of blood. And with the bullet still in him…..” Ellie started off but then trailed off.

“Is he going to make it?” asked Alexander.

“I don’t understand. I mean where did Carver get the gun? Why would he do this?” Malcolm asked.

“Ape.” Caesar’s voice soon spoke up. We all looked to Caesar. Malcolm walked closer to Caesar so that he didn’t need to speak louder.

“What?”

“Ape….did….this.” it was then my mind began clicking all the pieces together.

“Koba.” I said. Malcolm and his family turned to me, “The bonobo that tried to attack us yesterday. He must’ve killed my pack first, then Carver before taking his gun and…..” I trailed off not even wanting to say it.

“But Carver isn’t here.” Ellie said.

“Koba must’ve dragged it off somewhere after finishing him off. No point in going to find him, we need to get Caesar help.” I deducted.

“But Foster and Kemp. We got separated from them shouldn’t we go look for them?” asked Alexander.

“They’re dead too. Found them this morning, hell I tripped over Kemp’s corpse this morning by accident. And if you’d like to keep whatever ounce of humanity you have left, I’d advise not going to look for them. Trust me, what you’ve seen chimps do to my wolves is nothing compared to what that type of rage and power can do to a human.” I said grimly.

Malcolm and his family looked at me terrified before Malcolm snapped out of it and ordered to his family.

“Get in the truck.” Ellie was about to get in the back when I told her.

“I’ll take care of him.” She looked at me but then nodded and closed the trunk door and rode up front with Malcolm while Alexander got in the backseat and soon Malcolm drove us out of the Redwoods and back into the city.

When we got there, all we could see was smoke rising into the sky from where the colony was.

“Oh my god, look. The colony’s on fire.”

“Where are we gonna go?” asked Alexander. I looked out through the streets and I felt a wave of nostalgia overcome me. Even though it had been ten years since I came through this part of the city I knew it like the back of my hand.

“I know somewhere we can lay low.” I told them.

“Where’s that?” asked Malcolm.

“Keep going straight until you reach the third stop sign, then make a right.” I told them. With no more questions asked, Malcolm did as I told him and I looked down at Caesar. ‘You ready to go home little brother?’ I quickly signed to him. Caesar let out a huff as the corners of his lips tilted upward in a smile, and his eyes softly shined with the same loving look of nostalgia I was feeling.

It was a couple minutes after going right when I told him to make a left and then continue straight until I told him to stop. Even for being consumed by Mother nature’s natural embrace, the streets and homes were all still the same as I could see the very street where I grew up in.

“Are we close Lin?” asked Ellie.

“We’re getting there, just a few more houses.” I told her. It was then Caesar began to take notice of where we were and he started to let out some proud gibbers. “This is it, Malcolm stop the car!” the truck soon came to a stop as we now stood before mine and Caesar’s home.

It was almost completely encompassed with weeds and the ever growing trees, save for the attic window where Caesar’s room was. Even my uncle’s old BMW station wagon was almost unrecognizable but I knew that car anywhere. Along with my old motorcycle that stood beside it.

“This is it. We’ll be safe here.” I told them.

“Are you sure?” Alexander asked me unsure.

“It doesn’t matter, we just need a place to hide him.” Malcolm told his son.

“Alex, see if you can’t get the door opened. Knock it down if you must. Malcolm, you, Ellie and I will get Caesar.” Ellie opened the trunk door and I stepped out taking Caesar by the underarms and slowly dragged him out.

He let out a pained grunt as he was moved until Ellie and Malcolm were able to grab him and the three of us got back into our carrying positions and walked Caesar towards the house. By the time we reached the porch, Alexander was finally able to kick down the door and I said.

“Turn immediately left, there’s a couch we can set him down on for now.” Malcolm and Ellie followed my directions and we carefully moved Caesar to the living room. “Move the table Alexander.” He pushed the old table aside allowing us more room to set Caesar down on the orange couch.

Even with the rotting floors, the peeling wallpaper, the immense dust and the odd smell or two, I was hit with a thousand thoughts, smells and feelings that I had long, long forgotten.

Once Caesar was settled, I cupped his face and smiled down at him. Long have I waited to bring him home but I had wished it wouldn’t be in these circumstances.

“Dad, look.” Alexander soon took a picture from the mantle and showed it to his dad. I immediately knew what picture it was without needing to see it and I demanded.

“Put that back!” The three of them looked at me in shock while Alexander also looked at me fearfully. “Just because we’re here, doesn’t give you the right to go poking around other people’s belongings.” I glared at them before gesturing down to Caesar.

“We need to operate but I don’t have anything. There’s a surgical kit back at the place but that’s…..” Ellie spoke up changing the subject entirely.

“I’ll go.” Malcolm interrupted her. Ellie turned to her boyfriend with a look of fear in her eyes.

“It’s not safe.”

“He’s the only one that can stop this.” Said Malcolm.

“There’s not much here that we can use as a substitute med kit. We’ve got no other choice, if we don’t get the bullet out of him now he’ll die.” I felt Caesar’s hand softly take mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. My rage slowly simmered down as I felt his hand take mine and I took a few deep breaths. “I’ll be damned if I lose him now. Go Malcolm. And don’t get spotted.”

He nodded and he soon left the house to go get Ellie’s med-pack. Meanwhile as Ellie and Alexander began unpacking the sleeping bags and making my home feel like theirs, I remained eternally at Caesar’s side, stroking his hand that still held mine.

“When you’re done you both can wash up. Bathroom’s upstairs second door to the left.” I said not looking at them.

“This was your home. Wasn’t it Lin?” Ellie asked me in more of a statement than a question. I remained silent for a moment and told them.

“I’ll explain everything to you once Malcolm returns. But I won’t have you operate on Caesar with filthy hands.” I briefly turned and gave her a stern but truthful look. She nodded and told Alexander to follow her upstairs.

When we were finally alone I turned back to Caesar and cupped his face once again and asked him.

“Do you remember your third birthday Caesar? When I played you E.T’s flying theme on the violin?” Caesar’s green eyes looked at me with such warmth and affection. “It was right here, you and gramps sitting together and uncle Will in the back with the video camera. You were so entranced by my performance, even though I felt like it wasn’t enough of a gift for you. But you loved it and I think that was what really pushed me into wanting to become a composer in the future, because I wanted to not only make people feel something, but animals also feel the joy of music.”

Caesar gave me a soft nod as well as a small smile.

“And the time we first took you to the Redwoods. You were so excited, you couldn’t help but gawk at all the tall trees. You were like a kid in a candy shop. As you went to climb your first tree, you nearly gave Uncle Will a heart attack. He thought you’d hurt yourself but I knew better. You always were the better climber. And I broke my leg because of that reason, remember? When I thought I could climb one of the trees and I fell on my leg when I was 14.”

I don’t know if it was just being here that made me think about all these memories that I hadn’t thought about since being forced out of this house and never being allowed to come back. Or just having Caesar here at my side after all these years, or even I’m just trying to distract myself from what’s happening right now (perhaps it is the third option, I don’t know).

But it at least distracted me for a moment and allowed me to fully grieve over what I had truly lost.

“Or how about the time when we tried to cook Caroline’s and Will’s second anniversary dinner. We nearly set the whole house on fire, all because someone wasn’t watching the stir-fry.” Caesar let out a soft grunt before pointing at me. “Yeah, you’re right it was my fault. And I learned an important lesson that day; Water and grease fires do not mix.” I softly laughed brokenly.

Jesus Christ I really have closed off all my emotions during my days in the military because the tears just wouldn’t stop coming as I looked at Caesar and gripped his hand as tightly as I could.

“Please don’t leave me. There…there’s still so much you have to live for. I’ve already seen our whole family die before me. Please don’t you die before me too brother Ape.” I raised our hands to my face as I wept into them. I felt Caesar’s rough, leathery finger gently wipe away my tears and he said to me.

“Won’t….give…up.” the tears continued to fall down my face but I smiled as best I could while pressing my face closer to our encompassed ones.

About 20 minutes passed and as Ellie and Alexander had long joined us in the living room waiting for Malcolm to return. Ellie occasionally checking his progress until finally Malcolm came in through the door with Ellie’s med-pack.

“I got it, how is he?” he asked as he came in through the door. But before anyone could answer, another shadow suddenly came around the corner and we were shocked to see who it was.

It was Caesar’s eldest son. He held a large rifle upward in his hand but as he turned and saw his father clinging to life on the couch, his emotionless face soon turned to shock as he slowly set the rifle down.

Caesar was above all relieved that his son was alright and hadn’t been killed in the ongoing war between Man and Ape. I slowly backed away to give the father and son a moment together, his son had taken my place before Caesar and Caesar panted out.

“Your…mother. Brother…..safe?” his son knelt down before his father and signed to him.

‘For now.’ Caesar sighed in relief as his head rolled over to the side. We had to operate fast, I’m surprised he managed to survive this long but if we don’t do something soon, he’ll die. I watched as his son looked at his father’s wound before turning to us growling aggressively.

We all stepped back and I held my hands up in surrender. I truly didn’t blame his son for thinking that we could’ve been the ones to do this to Caesar. After all it was a human weapon that nearly killed him.

“No. No.” Caesar reached out for his son. His son turned back to his father as Caesar continued, “Not human…..Koba.”

“Malcolm.” Ellie whispered to him. Malcolm nodded and took his son out of the house. Ellie slowly came around and I came onto the other side. “Caesar, we need to do this now.” Ellie knelt down and began taking out everything she needed to operate.

“Son.” Caesar said to his son as he held out his hand. Almost immediately, his son took his father’s hand while I stood over Caesar’s head.

“Lin, I’m gonna need you to hold him down once I take the bullet out. First I’ll apply the anesthesia but with the bullet being in him for as long as it has, I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” Ellie told me. I nodded and turned to his oldest son and signed to him.

‘I’m not as strong as you are. Think you can help me if I can’t keep your father still?’ the young male chimp looked at me. His blue eyes burning with fear, betrayal, anxiety and doubt.

“Trust….her.” Caesar huffed almost silently. Before his eyes began to shut.

“Hey, hey Caesar, come on big guy. Stay awake now, don’t you go passing out now.” I said lightly tapping his face as I knelt closer to him. Ellie found the anastatic and applied it around the wound area before getting out her other tools to help dig out the bullet.

It was a long, strenuous and agonizing process. But Caesar’s son did help me to keep his father still when Caesar began to get too rowdy. I had seen this many times out in the field and getting a bullet out is not an easy nor for the sensitive stomach.

There is this god awful stench that comes out when the wound is exposed after getting shot. The rotting tissue is something so foul that I can’t even put it into words. And it’s excruciatingly painful, and I would know cause I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum.

After a long, grueling 45 minute surgery, Ellie was finally able to get the bullet out of Caesar and stitch him up. Caesar by now had long passed out from the pain alone but he held on as long as he could. Never have I seen someone fight as long as he did, now it was up to him on whether he wakes up after such a prolonged surgery.

Ellie went outside to join Malcolm and Alexander, her hands stained with Caesar’s blood and I knew I had to keep my end of the bargain and tell them everything. I turned to Caesar’s son who still had his father’s hand in his and was watching him with worried eyes.

“Your father’s the strongest ape I know. I’ve seen stronger men cry and scream like babies at surgeries like this. I’m no different, having been shot myself.” I lifted my shirt up just a bit to reveal a bullet wound that got into the side of my stomach. “He just needs to rest and soon he’ll awaken.”

His son looked up at me and signed.

‘My question from before. Will you give me your answer?’ I smiled softly.

“How about this, look at the top of the mantle over there. Look at some of the pictures and you might know why. For now I’ve got a family I need to explain a lot of things to.” I soon left their side and slowly came out of the house.

Malcolm and his family turned to me and I came down the stairs before standing before them.

“I lied about who I was.” I told them. “When you found me passed out on the streets and healed me up, I introduced myself as Lin Powell. My real last name is Rodman.”

“Rodman. As in…..” Ellie started off but I interrupted her with a nod.

“Leading scientist of Gen-Sys William Rodman. He was my uncle.” They looked at me with the expressions I knew they’d have. Betrayal, anger, shock, and confusion. “My grandfather, Charles Rodman was a popular music teacher and composer. But he developed Alzheimer’s when I was really young, which forced my uncle to take care of not only me but him as well. That’s why he got so fixated on trying to find the cure for it, and why they chose chimpanzees since we share only a 2% difference in DNA. Caesar’s mother was their perfect subject till she gave birth to Caesar. At first they thought the drug made her aggressive, but after killing her and putting down all the other test subjects, they soon found newborn Caesar in her holding cell. My uncle then brought Caesar home to me and my grandpa. Temporarily until he soon found out that Caesar inherited the ALZ-112 from his mother. We raised him, my uncle monitored his intelligence growth, I just treated him like my brother.”

“Your brother?” questioned Alexander.

“Even though he was an ape, I knew Caesar was special. There was no way I’d treat him like a pet. He understood me, was there for me. Throughout the years we had together we eventually formed this incredible bond. It’s like…..like we were meant to be together always. But my family life wasn’t perfect, my grandpa’s health was rapidly growing worse, I’d thought we’d lose him forever. Until my uncle gave him the ALZ-112 as a last, desperate effort.”

“Without a successful human trial?” asked Ellie.

“Believe me when I first found out why grandpa’s health was getting better I hated my uncle for it. He decided to play God and see if the drug would’ve cured my grandfather of the disease. But looking back at it now, I see why he did it. If someone you loved, was forgetting everything they’ve ever lived through, forgetting every person they’ve ever loved, until they become nothing but a hollow, soulless shell of their former selves, could you bear to see that happen? Hell I would’ve done the same thing in his shoes. But when he gave my grandpa the drug, he didn’t just recover he improved. He improved far better than I remember seeing him be. At least for five years.”

“His body developed anti-bodies.” Ellie deducted.

“CDC taught you well Ellie.” I commented. “Yes. The disease came back with a vengeance for my grandfather. And it all happened next door when we got into my neighbor’s car by accident thinking it was his own car. I went out to defend my grandfather from the bastard, but I was punched, and my grandfather continued getting berated. That’s when Caesar came and defended us. Like his mother did for him, Caesar went full protective mode to protect gramps and avenge me.”

Memories of that god awful day came flooding back to me as I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the tears.

“After attacking our neighbor, Caesar was taken away from us by court order. Kept in a cage at the San Bruno Primate shelter just 20 miles north from here. Then things just went downhill from there. My uncle heavily poured not only into his work to try and find a more aggressive drug to help my grandfather who was greatly deteriorating before our eyes, but also bring Caesar home. But it all proved to be useless in the end. Grandpa died, Caesar refused to come home, and soon the apes escaped the shelter and the zoo. And well you all know the rest from there.”

They remained silent. Alexander couldn’t bare to look at me while Ellie and Malcolm occasionally looked at me before looking back down.

“Now you see why I couldn’t tell anyone who I really was. The name ‘Rodman’ is a curse. Hell I’ll bet that’s why they didn’t bother to tell me when my uncle died. Because the man who was responsible for all of this, his life isn’t worth a damn. And anyone who bears his name is marred for life. I won’t force you all to pretend I’m still family as you so claim. I can never belong to anyone anymore. Once Caesar is awake, you all can leave if you wish.”

I headed back up the stairs and entered inside the living room once again. Caesar was still unconscious with no signs of changes. His chest slowly rising and falling while his son was looking at the pictures I had told him to look at. I softly cleared my throat and he turned to face me as he held the same picture Alexander had shown his dad.

‘Who is this human?’ he signed to me.

“In a way, if you wish to call him this. That was your grandfather. Will Rodman. He had his flaws but he was a good man, and he loved your father very much. Just like I did.”

‘You once called father, Brother Ape.’

“And I meant every word of it. No matter what species we were, your father and I shared a special bond with each other. He was my little brother and I was his big sister. And I know your mother tried to force it on you last night but you don’t have to force yourself to see me as your aunt. I won’t be hurt or offended if you choose not to.”

The young chimp placed the picture back on the mantle and walked over towards me. We stood face to face of each other before he then pointed to his right eye. I looked at him confused before he gestured to his eye again. I then signed to him as I said.

“Are you telling me your name?” he nodded. I raised my brow and asked, “Eyes? Is that really your name?” he let out an amused huff before closely gesturing to his eye. That’s when it clicked with me, compared to the other apes he didn’t have the green eyes that the drug gave them. “Blue Eyes. That’s your name?” he gave me a soft smile and nodded. I smiled back and extended my hand, “Pleasure to finally meet you, Blue Eyes.”

He then slowly reached out and took my hand in his and I slowly moved it up and down in a handshake.

“Come with me, if you’d like to know why else I saved you from Carver.” I released his hand and lead him upstairs towards the attic. I reached up and pulled the string down allowing the stairs to come down and I went up the stairs first followed by Blue Eyes.

When we finally came into Caesar’s old room, I allowed Blue Eyes to walk forward first and he saw for himself where his father grew up. The spacious attic with the monkey bars that had long been rusted, all of his puzzles and models that had been preserved, and his old bed.

Blue Eyes curiously waddled towards the bed, grabbed the sheets and took a sniff of them, probably smelling the faint scent of his father from long ago. He looked around the attic as he continued to look around his father’s old room.

Carefully stroking his fingers along the old models his father built, the puzzles he’s completed and the drawings he’s made.

“I don’t know what knowing all of this will do with your relationship between you and your father. But just know this Blue Eyes. We raised your father with nothing but love, compassion, and decency.” I then left him alone in the attic and proceeded to head to my old room.

When I opened the door, I was greeted with the faded chippings of my old posters I once had hung up. Movie posters, concert brochures, and old photos of me and my friends who were long dead since the early days of the Simian Flu outbreak.

It was almost as if I hadn’t left, everything was still the same. Even my bed that still hadn’t been made up since Caroline’s death when the CDC officials broke in and condemned our home under max Quarantine. I looked under the bed and pulled out the old suitcase that I had packed everything that was related to Caesar and I.

I reached underneath my shirt and pulled out my old dog tag chain to not only reveal my old military ID tags but also the key that went to this very suitcase. I figured in case there ever was a chance I wanted to look back into this old thing, I’d always keep the key close to my heart. I placed it into the lock and even after all this time, it still managed to unlock and I slowly opened it.

Bit by bit I pulled out all the scrapbooks, photos, drawings he had done until I came to the very first scrapbook I made of Caesar and myself. I opened it and it revealed the first photo that Caesar and I ever shared.

He had only been five days old and I was holding him in my arms, his arms clinging around my neck as he gave me a kiss to my cheek. I turned to the next page and saw all the drawings he had made for me personally without showing them to Will. They were all drawings of me or me and him together playing some game. There was also a hand print picture that the two of us did together with paints. It had my hand followed by his small one just covering my palm.

I turned to another page and saw more pictures of us together through the first year of his life. Pictures that I took or that Will had taken. Baking cakes together, giving him a piggy back ride through the house, playing with some of my old toys, or eating cupcakes for either of our birthdays.

Flipping through each page brought more tears to my eyes when I heard the creeks of the floor behind me and when I turned around I saw Blue Eyes standing outside my door. Curiously he came into my room and sat down beside me and looked down at the scrapbook.

“This picture of us together eating the cupcakes, that was for your great-grandfather Charles birthday party. I’ll tell yah when your father got into the flour…..hoho boy was your grandpa not happy about that. But it turned out to be a good day.”

I continued the tell Blue Eyes various stories about certain pictures that were taken or drawings his father had done. And he hung onto every word I said and every story that I told him, he became invested and wanted to know more.

As the night went on, we migrated back downstairs to check on Caesar who was still unconscious. Malcolm, Ellie and Alexander still hadn’t come back inside so they must’ve decided to either take rest in the trucks or find another house to sleep in for the night.

Well let them do them. I didn’t care, really I didn’t. Blue Eyes once again looking at the picture of Will and Caesar together when suddenly Caesar let out a gasp and woke up. I came over to him and said.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Caesar. You’re home and you’re safe, it’s alright.”

“Lin.” He panted my name.

“Yes. I’m here little brother, I’m here. And so is your son.” I said stroking along his face before turning to his son. I stood up and allowed Blue Eyes to take my place at sitting beside Caesar on the couch while I took the floor beside him.

Both father and son looked at each other with teary eyed expression and silence before Blue Eyes signed to his father in regret.

‘I’m so sorry…for everything.’

“No.” Caesar told him softly shaking his head. “I….am to blame.”

‘But Koba betrayed you.’

“I…..chose to trust him….because he is ape. I always think….ape better than human. I see now….how much like them we are.”

“There’s always good and evil inside of everyone Caesar. Whether human or animal. And while we raised you to be good, unfortunately Koba chose to spiral down the path of vengeance and hatred. But you can’t blame yourself for that. You didn’t force him to turn to the dark side.” Caesar briefly looked at me as I stroked through the fur on top of his head before he asked his son.

“Where….Koba now?”

‘On the human tower. Loyal apes around him.’ Blue Eyes signed.

“And those who not follow?”

‘Prisoners.’ Replied Blue Eyes. His eyes brimming red with tears as he signed out the names, ‘Maurice. Rocket.’ I then noticed how he gave a sniffle as something else was going through his mind. ‘Koba killed Ash.’ Blue Eyes signed as he softly sobbed.

Ape not kill Ape. That’s the law I remembered seeing written back at their colony, and what Caesar had said to Koba back at the dam when he would’ve killed him then and there. But not only to nearly kill Caesar but actually succeed in killing another ape…..the apes didn’t deserve an ape like that for a leader.

‘Fear makes others follow. But when they see you alive…they will turn from Koba.’

“Not….if I am weak. Ape….always seek strongest branch.” Unfortunately that was a fact. The ape who proves themselves to be the strongest becomes the leader of the troop. If Caesar were to go now, the apes wouldn’t dare follow him nor turn from Koba. “I must do something to stop him.” Caesar said as he began to sit up.

“Uhh absolutely not! You can barely stand let alone walk Caesar. If you fight Koba now you will be killed. You need to rest and regain your strength.” I said urgently as both I and Blue Eyes gently set him back down on the couch.

“Father.” A voice soon spoke up. Both Caesar and I turned to Blue Eyes. His voice was hoarsed from lack of usage but there was no denying it, Blue Eyes was now speaking. “Let….me…..Help. You.” And I’ll say seeing the proud look on Caesar’s face as he slowly sat up and cupped his son’s face gave me a warm feeling in my stomach.

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edosianorchids901 · 1 year ago

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In the Dark Beside You

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "torn veil"

“Ready?”

No. No, absolutely not.

“Aim?”

Crowley’s breaths raced, his whole body trembling as he leveled the gun at his best friend.

“Fire!”

He cringed away from it, knowing what would come but unable to stop it. A spray of blood, Aziraphale’s screams. And then holding him, pleading with him to stay, apologizing over and over.

But instead, gunfire tore the curtain to shreds. Furfur danced out into the brilliant spotlight, holding his camera high. “Gotcha!”

Clawed hands seized Crowley, dragging him away. Across the stage, glowing white figures surrounded Aziraphale, blocking him from view.

“No!” Crowley screamed, struggling. He clung to the rifle, taking aim at the glowing figures even as the demons hauled him back down to Hell. “You can’t take my angel!”

The gun went off, and then Aziraphale was screaming.

Crowley bolted awake, clutching at his chest as his heart pounded. His breaths raced out of control, and his whole body shook as badly as it had in the dream.

He rushed to the bathroom, wrenched the faucet on, and splashed water on his face. Wet, straggling hair hung across his brow as he stared at himself in the mirror, trembling hands clutching the cold porcelain edges of the sink.

“Just a dream,” he said, trying to convince himself. “It was just a dream.”

But it didn’t feel like just a dream. Once, most of his nightmares about him and Aziraphale getting caught together had seemed far fetched, easy enough to dismiss once he was awake. But now, the thin veil between reality and nightmare has been torn apart by the brilliant flash of a camera bulb, searing a single moment into permanence.

Aziraphale had managed to swap out via sleight of hand, sure. But they’d still been caught, in that moment.

Crowley raked his fingers through his hair, combing it back, and studied himself in the mirror. His eyes, gold from corner to corner with stress. His skin pale, almost grey. Dark circles under his eyes. He shouldn’t go to see Aziraphale, not like this.

He went anyway, almost compulsive. He had to go. To make sure Aziraphale was okay. To make sure he hadn’t been dragged away by those glowing figures of light, taken away to Heaven where they would never see each other again.

Crowley sank into the Bentley, relieved by its dark embrace. He’d only had the car for a handful of years, hardly anything in the sort of timescale that matters to an immortal being, but he loved it more than he loved anything other than his stars and Aziraphale.

He drove to the shop and parked outside, conflicted about whether to go in. The whole place was lit up again, all of Whickber Street, which Crowley found kind of annoying. He wasn’t exactly the sort who abided by the rules—he was a demon, after all—but not getting your neighbors targeted by bombs sounded like cause for an exception. He’d dutifully put the required cover thingies on his Bentley’s lights, even.

While he was brooding about humans and their total disregard for each other’s safety, the shop door opened. Aziraphale waved to him, then bustled across the street. “Crowley!”

Gosh, it was good to see him. Crowley opened his door, although he didn’t get out yet. “What’s with this street, Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“The lights. We’re supposed to be in blackout.”

“Oh, I like the lights,” Aziraphale said as if that explained it. “They’re pretty.”

Crowley frowned at him. “They’re not gonna be pretty if they get targeted by the Luftwaffe.”

“Oh, that won’t happen. I’ve put a sort of… a veil of protection over the whole area.” Aziraphale spread out both hands and moved them down in a sort of a curved motion, like describing a bubble. “Although it didn’t work very well on the zombies, I’m afraid, they tore right through it. May need to make some adjustments. What’s wrong with you?”

Startled at the sudden change of topic, Crowley shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing. Just out for a drive.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “You are silly, you know. Coming here like that, without a hat, your clothes all rumpled, and then claiming nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh.” Crowley hadn’t realized he’d forgotten his hat. He reached up, trying to finger comb his hair into order. But Aziraphale was right—there was no real point denying it. “Nh, just a nightmare.”

When he didn’t get out, Aziraphale went back around the Bentley and climbed into the passenger seat. He gave Crowley a worried look. “About me?”

“About us.” Crowley gulped, chest tight again. “Furfur catching us. And then you got dragged off by angels, and I…”

His hands started to shake again, violent trembling. Aziraphale reached out, slowly, and captured the one still resting on his thigh. “I’m sorry, my dear. That must have been scary.”

Crowley grunted in agreement, but didn’t respond otherwise. He was a demon, after all. Not supposed to get scared by anything, not even being dragged back down to Hell for eternal torture, not even being forever separated from his only friend.

He was scared by it, bloody terrified. But here in the dark of the Bentley, holding Aziraphale’s hand and gazing down the incongruously lighted Whickber Street, it was easier to tell those dreams apart from current reality.

As for future reality, he’d just have to hope their luck would hold out.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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doorrobloxstuff · 2 years ago

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*Sets this down like a plate of sugar water and you are a nest of thirsty bees. Runs away.*

Sunshine graced the skin of the unholy.

Rush watched as the sun grace the marble blue sky. A gift rarely seen except for small glimpses from hotel windows. Never on this grand scale.

Rush took it all for granted as it sipped away the citrusy yellow goodness that it’s partner called ‘lemonade.’ It watched clouds seemingly fluffy as its wool drift on by.

Its partner, Ambush was close by. It had been watching a deer carcass it torn to shreds just an hour prior roast over an open flame.

“Hey big guy?”

“Yea?”

“Ehh..Stuff’s gettin cold right?”

“Yea sorta- why do ya think it does that?”

“I dunno.”

Ambush floated over before resting its body on its partner’s, taking care to approach on its non-injured side as not to disturb it while Rush scooted a little and allowed it’s partner to nest into into its fog.

The two watched the clouds drift on by mindlessly.

Ambush snuck a sip of Rush’s lemonade. Something of which Rush quickly took notice of.

“Hey! That’s my drink!”

Ambush’s jaw creased a little bit into a ‘smile.’

“What are you talking about I didn’t steal no dr-“

Rush bonked it lightly on the head with a large hand.

“..Ow..”

“No stealin.”

“Eaugh...did you have to wack me though..?” It laid its head back down on Rush’s shoulder.

“Ya lied to to me to..”

“Yea, but your lemonade was delicious.”

“And mine.”

Ambush grumbled before setting its head back into Rush’s fur while Rush sipped on the now Ambush-tainted lemonade. Slightly more eager to drink it now that its been contested over.

Ambush stayed there for awhile like that. Resting and occasionally stirring there in Rush’s soft fog.

“Bush..?”

“Hm?”

“How much longer until whatever your makin is ready?”

“Two more hours.”

“Alright just makin sure so you don’t fall asleep and burn ya food.”

“Mmmmh..” Ambush pressed its cheek on its partner’s shoulder.

Rush fluffed up a little. “Ah shit, does that hurt you babe..?”

“Tch...nah..” Rush’s hand instinctively made its way to its scar. Which, Ambush reached for as well. But much more gently.

“Ambush..” It murmured.

“Can I..?”

“Yes..”

Ambush traced Rush’s scarred face and followed the scar’s path down its chest. Rush mutually did the same. Running its hand down through Ambush’s ratty fur.

“Your..your so soft..”

“Not as much as you Blushy..”

Rush wrapped a hand around Ambush’s waist which elicited a excited ‘kzzzt!’ out of the other as it pulled it close.

Ambush snuggled even closer to Rush. “Ya know.. I’m goin to the abandoned town tomorrow..maybe I can find somethin we can rip apart..”

“Mmm.. maybe we can find somethin interestin to do around here..this hotel is so damn quiet nowadays.”

“Yea, I’ve practically read the entire library..even eh..some of Figure’s old stuff..it’s eh..a pretty good writer..” It looked a tiny bit sad.

“Seek’s actually found Figure apparently. It told me it’s in pretty bad shape..”

“Oh shit really?”

“Yea, apparently Screech found it in a cave just lying..there..”

Ambush shrank into Rush’s fluffy chest even more. “Is it eh..is it okay right now..?” It said meekly.

“..Maybe we can go and see?” Rush said comfortingly. Brushing another hand down Ambush’s cheek that immediately got another purr out of it.

“That would be nice..” Ambush nestled knee deep in Rush’s fur. “I’m just glad itsomfkay....”

“Eheheheh..” Rush smiled took another sip of its lemonade. Continuing to watch the clouds roll on by.

Ambush peeked its head out.

“By the way big guy..I..eh..I found found your quilts! It’s so coolmfjkppphhh..!”

“Shshshsgshshhsh..nobody must know..” Rush pushed Ambush back into its fur and took another large sip.

——

I had to cut it short again. Darn it I ran out of idea juice

Don’t have much lore for these two yeeeet….

#author.txt #roblox doors #doors roblox #don’t give the admin of this blog lemonade he doesn’t like it #probably has an allergy #UPDATE: HE DID #writing #Rush #Ambush

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life-of-clexa · 1 year ago

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Let me just say that this is the first time I’ve ever written something like this, I’m not the best writer but I am proud of it and wanted to post somewhere. Please give me some tips on how to improve it, and also don’t be afraid to tell me if you don’t like something.(Sidenote: Clarke is not dead, I know it seems that way, but she’s not I swear. Also it won’t turn out to just be platonic I promise) I’d love to continue this but it would require me having some help from somebody. If you’re interested or have any ideas for how to continue please let me know!😊❤️

THEN: The first thing she remembers is blue. Just blue. The kind of blue that artists paint the oceans with, or crystal clear water. So much blue she thought she could die right there, staring at a complete stranger with luscious blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, a woman whom she had never met before, but felt like she had known her entire life. A hand reached out to shake her own "Clarke. Nice to meet you." "Lexa, nice to meet you too. Have you been here before? I feel like I know you..." Blue eyes stared back at hers with a glint in them. "No, but I get that a lot, I think it's the eyes, people tend to find comfort in them I guess." "That makes sense" Lexa responded, "Well I guess we better get to work then huh?" she questioned. All she got was a small, but polite smile in return. From then on they were the best of friends. There wasn't a single day that they weren't together, and there was nothing that could keep them apart.

NOW: Tired green eyes cracked open to see the sun peeking through the window, they explored, made note of the dresser across the room, the familiar face in the lone picture frame. Blue eyes squinting with happiness, smile so wide she could swear she saw it touch the ears of the beautiful blonde subject of the photo. They shifted over to the old sketchbook sitting on the edge. Memories came flooding back of sneaking glances just to see the beautiful drawings that the artist created. They jumped to the nightstand next to the bed, the phone that sat on it, quietly buzzing. A long arm with quite a unique tattoo climbing up the bicep reached out to grab it. "Hello?" a hoarse crack in the words. "We're going out tonight, be ready by 10!" A voice shrilled from the other end of the line, "Anya I really don't feel like it. It's just too soon." she rasped and hung up the phone. It rang again. She ignored it. This went on for about twenty minutes until she finally picked up the phone again. "Alexandra Hope Woods!" Her sister berated her for hanging up, "It's been a year, you have to get out there at some point." "Exactly Anya, it's been a year, exactly one year since my life was torn to shreds. Like a tiger devouring its meal." Lexa reminded her. Anya sighed and shook her head, though the other girl couldn't see it, she knew what she was about to say. "If you don't at least try, you're never going to get back on your feet..." she whispered. "Anya I don't want to! I was happy then, and that was taken from me, so unless you can reverse time and draw my past back to the present, I'm never going to be able to get over it! The only reason I stayed is because I made a promise, and I'm not breaking a promise to someone that isn't even here to defend it." She hung up the phone again. Lexa felt bad for yelling at her sister, so she decided to shoot her a quick text. "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready yet. I don't know that I'll ever be. I just need time." And that was the end of it.

#clexa au #clexa #clexa fanfic #lexa woods #clexa ao3

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hazbincalifornia · 2 years ago

Text

Better

Chapter 53: Loona has a chat with Stolas.

Ao3 link

Blitzo blinked awake in a bed that wasn’t his own. The springs didn’t creak as he pushed himself up with a groan, which in itself was unusual- usually, when he woke up somewhere weird, it was some grimy apartment with somebody drooling all over his chest. Now, however, he was alone but for the lingering scent of sweat and preening oil. Stolas had been here.

Glancing around, memory filtered back in- right, right, he was at the new apartment. The walls were still sparsely decorated. He’d thrown up a few pages of doodles from the office with tape, but they lay lonely atop the paint- he needed to get frames, or at least fun stickers.

“It sucks,” Loona said from around the corner.

Blitzo leaned forward before shifting off the bed, trying to step lightly. He eased himself around the door to see Loona sitting on the couch that was partially angled away, toying with something in her paws with Stolas next to her.

“What sucks?”

“Besides you sucking his dick?” Loona said, and Blitzo couldn’t help a half-grin at how easily she retorted, tail swishing back and forth. That was his Loonie, all right.

Stolas cleared his throat, brushing away a dotty flush. “Er, yes, besides that.”

“All of this. The apartment is nice, sure, but all of this has been a huge fucking mess.” Her shoulders shifted as she continued to move something around. “Neither of us are ready for a fucking baby, even if he thinks he is all of a sudden. Babies are stupid, useless lumps that just cry and shit and hate you and cry more.” There was the slight warble to her voice that mostly came after she’d had a few drinks but sometimes when she was just thinking more than usual, but he was too far away to smell if there was any alcohol on her breath. “It sucks.”

At that, Stolas sighed. “It’s been… difficult, I won’t deny that, but I intend to be there to help him. I know he sees you as his daughter, and I don’t intend to get in the way of that.”

“Yeah. Don’t.” Her arm jerked, and when a flash of gray flew up and fell back down again, he realized she was tossing around one of the horse dolls that he’d made of her. “Shit’s complicated, we don’t need you butting your head in about it.”

“I won’t,” Stolas said, shifting around on the couch. “Is there anything that I can do for you, though?”

Loona thought for a moment.

“I’m not going to complain if you give us more free shit as long as there aren’t strings attached, but I don’t want the kid left behind. Blitzo tries, but kind of sucks at being a dad a lot.” Red fingers tightened against the wall. “You’ve been one for a while, right?”

“Seventeen years. I was a few years younger than you, I believe- how old are you again?”

“Twenty-two.”

“I was eighteen going on nineteen when we had Via. She’s been the light of my life, and I intend to be there for the new child as well.” He paused. “Blitzo said that you came from an orphanage, or something of the like. Nothing like that will happen to them, I can promise you that.”

“They’d get torn to shreds, a freak like that,” Loona scoffed.

“That would be… not good,” Stolas said, somewhat lamely. “I… I hope that you can have a… constructive relationship with them.”

“I’m not going to kick the crap out of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She held up the doll before squeezing it, distorting the shape slightly as her claws dug in. “I don’t want this. I liked how things were. But you know what, if he wants a fucking baby, that’s his fucking business as long as he doesn’t kick me out, right?”

Stolas reached out his hand before it dropped. “He was worried about you.”

“Yeah, which was why he decided on keeping it without even asking?” Loona’s head bobbed a little, and Blitzo swallowed, shoulders tensing. He knew it, he knew that this was still going to be a problem, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, think think-

“He’s… impulsive at times, you should know that,” Stolas said, and Blitzo barely suppressed the urge to hiss even though it wasn't like he could disagree. “But he pushed against the thought of keeping the child for months, so he must mean it now that he’s taking this seriously.” He paused. “Where did you get that little doll?”

“Oh, this thing?” She tossed it over to Stolas, who had to fumble to catch it. “He’s made like eight of them.”

“That’s sweet of him. He made one for my Via as well.” Stolas turned the horse over in his hands. “I don’t know if you plan to remain with him for long.”

“I’d be pretty dumb to give up on free rent and free rides,” Loona said, looking away in the way she always did when she was lying about something.

“Do you see him as your father?”

Her ears fell low as she growled. “I told you, shit’s complicated. He wants to be a dad, and I- look, he doesn’t know what to do to be a dad except smother me and drag me to work with him, considering what little I’ve figured out about his dad sucked ass. That kid is going to be even worse off since at least I knew some life lessons from that shithole they called the Foundation, but that’s not my problem, alright? Smothering the shit out of a baby will just result in a spoiled brat, but it’d be better than treating me like I’m five.”

Blitzo swallowed, fingers drumming on the wall before he stilled them. He didn’t want her hurt, that was all. Was that so wrong? This was a different kind of hurt, but he’d been trying not to make her deal with the shit he’d had to.

“She’ll be your sister,” Stolas said quietly, and her gaze fixated pointedly on something in front of her.

“Yeah. Sister. I’ve never needed one of those before, and I don’t need one now.”

“You don’t have to need a thing to find value in it,” Stolas said. “I know what it’s like to feel like something is closing in on you, and not having any choice in your own fate. But Blitzy cares deeply for you, and he’s come around to caring for the baby.” His voice softened in a way that made Blitzo’s heart skip a beat. “There’s so much beauty in him, and how much passion he has for life, taking it by the neck and strangling it until it submits… there’s enough of that lust for life and love inside of him for all of us, little h-Loona.”

Her ear twitched, and her tail smacked against the cushion as she pulled her legs up. “You’re the fuckin’ baby daddy, sure you think that. This whole thing is a mess, don’t pretend it isn’t-”

“Of course it’s a mess!” Stolas interrupted, raking a hand through the feathers atop his head. “If it wasn’t a mess, I would have moved both of you into the palace months ago, my wife would have already been gone, and we would have planned this from the start, not had it happen from a drunken hookup. But it’s here now, and all we can do is try to make things as right as we can.” He held the doll up, examining it in the light. “I want the child. I’m going to be there for her to support her and I’m glad that he is now too, but… I regret the fact that it’s hurt you and my Via.”

“Yeah, well, you should,” Loona said, but tilted her head as he kept looking at the doll. “You should have seen the first one he made, the head was like the same size as the body and it kept falling over. He cried like a little bitch-baby when I tried to throw it away, so it ended up in his office, I think.”

“Even things that are a little lopsided deserve love,” Stolas said. “I think it’s charming that he makes these little creatures, and that he’s made several for you.”

“It’s just something to do. He draws all of us, this isn’t all that different.”

“It’s still sweet,” Stolas said, before setting it down on the coffee table. “...You’re more than just a little toy to be tossed aside.”

“What?” She bristled. “The fuck did he say to you?”

“He hasn’t said anything of the sort, but I’ve realized some things, and you remind me of him.” Stolas met her eyes. “You mean a lot to him. I don’t want the baby to interrupt that.”

“Like you’d know anything about that.”

“I know more than you think.” He stood up. “He’s doing his best. Sometimes it’s a messy best, yes, but none of us are exactly scrubbed clean.”

“Right,” Loona said, but as she folded her arms, he could see her tilt her head slightly, thinking. Stolas moved to ruffle the hair between her ears before (wisely) thinking better of it, offering her the doll again instead.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I hope that the child won’t lead to the two of you losing each other.”

“It wasn’t gonna,” she muttered. “I’m not getting kicked out that easily, I just wanted him to fucking say something before choosing this for both of us. I'm sick of him acting like I'm just a blow-up doll of a kid so he can pretend he didn't fuck something up in his life.”

“I think it surprised him as much as it did you, but he’s trying to make up for it now,” Stolas said, and she pinched the doll to try and get it back to its normal proportions.

“We’ll see.” She paused. “It’s kind of ugly-cute. You should see the one he made of you, it’s ugly as shit.”

“He’s made one of me?”

Loona just snorted out a half-laugh and told him to ask, and Stolas watched her for a moment before turning towards Blitzo and catching his eye. Blitzo barely resisted the instinct to let out a squeak, ducking back into the bedroom. “Perhaps I will. I’ll see if he’s awake yet.”

“I’m gonna see if I can figure out the new TV,” Loona said, and Blitzo heard the couch creak slightly as he pushed himself up on the bed. Oddly enough, the sound was almost comforting- something being slightly lived-in helped to break up the sense of everything being scrubbed-new.

Stolas ducked under the doorframe. “Did you have a nice rest?”

“Not bad,” Blitzo said. “It’s still going to take some time to adjust to not having roaches crawl up my ass- they were great as budget vibrators, y’know.”

Stolas muffled a laugh of his own before sitting down. “How much did you hear?”

“...A lot,” Blitzo said with a sigh, slumping backwards and feeling his belly settle like a lead weight. “Being a dad is fucking hard, and I just- I don’t want to fuck her up worse than she’s already fucked up.”

“Which one?” Stolas asked, and Blitzo groaned, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Both of them. Loona mostly, she was so twitchy those first few months I wanted to go back and burn the fucking place to the ground, but the little squirt too. ” He rested one hand on his stomach. “Babies are dumb and impressionable and-”

Stolas leaned forward and pecked a kiss on his lips. “And you’ll do your best, I’m sure.”

“I was.” His hands fell to the sides as he stared up at the ceiling. “I was doing my best, but she still only calls me dad when something’s gone wrong. Shit’s complicated.” He planted his palms, arms wobbling a little as he shoved himself back up. “I want to be the dad that both of them deserve.”

“You think that I knew what I was doing?” Stolas said. “I was eighteen and things weren’t-” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Weren’t great with Stella. But through it all, Via became an anchor, and trying to focus on what she needed… she’s become a wonderful young woman, even though this has been a bump in the road. You started later than I did, that’s all- and I’m sure that once she’s born, that love that you have for your Loona will shine through for both of them. You care. That means more than you think.”

Blitzo’s fingers curled before he nodded, once and then harder a second time. “Yeah- yeah.” He looked down at his stomach. ”Your daddy’s gonna be better for you and your big sister. I’ll- I’ll try not to smother her as much, and I’ll teach you to be the coolest little bitch this side of Greed, and I’ll be the kind of daddy you can be proud of, promise. That sounds good, right, cupcake?”

It took a few seconds before there was a little nudge, but he smacked a kiss where the movement had come. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

#one time #daddy blitzo #helluva mpreg #shadow writes stuff

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jujurose222 · 1 month ago

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“Studying the monad, we understand the Archangel.”

The game of claims.

I remember sitting in the car with you and our friend. You two were taking about a friend you had who would basically steal the things you identify with. I don’t remember what, but basically: vibe thief.

You know it really bothered me when you two were talking about this. But I understood because it has happened to me. I just didn’t like it because it was such an egotistical conversation. You don’t own the things you didn’t create, you don’t own the things you enjoy? You know?

I used to be friends with this girl, we bonded because we were similar. We were into the same things, and both of us liked girls. I remember that, because I had a crush on her, and I still do. She’s beautiful. But we’d always silently beef. We both liked Lana, but I felt I liked her better than her. I’d get salty when she would post a song I liked. Things like that.

But now I’m older, and I realize we just liked the same things, that’s all. And we were both severe gatekeepers. I now realize my ego was so reliant on those outside factors to define me. The things I were into defined me. Me and her were so similar, she mirrored all the things I hated about myself.

Now I’ve been put into a terrible situation. A vibe thief has stolen the man I love. Labeled herself with the things I enjoy and indulge in.

You said you hated how that kid stole from you.

I hate how she’s stolen from me.

I don’t care if it’s unintentional. It’s fucking butchered my ego.

Everything I’ve ever identified with has become a big fucking mess. I sit here and wonder who showed you what first. Stupid shit like that.

But most of all the words my ego defines itself with, I wonder if she’s stolen my words. I wonder if you’ve stolen mine and used them on her.

I wonder if you’ve written her poems just to woo her.

I’m egotistical. My ego is fucking torn to shreds. Thank you I guess. This shredding has made way for a new life of mine. One where I can understand my claims in more depth.

Here’s a claim, I have a daddy kink, but that’s not the only one. I just want the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit all in me at once. I could call me poly, but they are all one. Just as the Crone, Mother and Babydoll. “I think I’m poly” that’s a claim I can’t get on board with, sorry sun. You can shine that brightness on all the clits you want, just not mine.

There are claims I don’t want to be apart of.

I claim the poet title but I don’t own the things I enjoy. I don’t own poetry.

Even so, knowing this, my ego wants to make one more egotistical claim, I could own both your asses in a slam poetry contest. I speak my poetry into the void every night, tossing and turning, expressing, making claims to the abyss. Loudly and exasperated, I moan into the darkness, no control of my tongue. My throat is open wide, ready for your cock to appear in the night. That’s the only thing that could truly shut me up.

There is one difference between us though. Where she claims lover, I will claim loser. And where she claims starseed, I will gladly claim angel. No offense to the starseeds, just on a journey of angelic hierarchy and the luminaries. Not the alien journeys Dolores Cannon has described to me, those journeys were of the past.

I will speak of ushering in Jupiter, because that is Earth in the 5d, in the future.

Also I have one thing she can’t claim. “Child of Jove.” I am a child of that future. I came here to bring it on.

All I’m focused on is Christ consciousness and helping the humans heal from the Martians. I am human with the seven planets teaching me in the stories of Roman and Egyptian myth.

Atom, Adam, Christ, Angel, Archangel, Elohim, God.

This is the journey I’m apart of. You remind of the Cherubim, that’s why you are my Cupid.

Not all the aliens have access to the Christ impulse. That’s all I’m focused on anymore. It would be a lie to say I won’t make more claims, but the claim that means the most to me is, “I will become LIKE the Son, like God.” I will continue to be open to the changes.

I will continue to decipher and decode the true meaning of the Bible. That beautiful fucking book. The truth to the fall of our Atlantean ancestors.

I love everything Earth. I love everything America. I love everything Illinois. I don’t want to be anywhere else anymore than with my feet as dense matter to lug me around Terra Mater’s curvy, thick body. And Isis’ guidance, teaching me how to caress those curves.

“A woman appeareth travailing with child, whose child the dragon would devour, but Michael overcometh him and casteth him out, and the more he is cast down and vanquished, the more fiercely he exercised his subtleties. And there appeared a great wonder in heaven: a woman clothed with the Sun, and the Moon was under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve Stars. And she was with child, and cried travailing in birth, and was pained ready to be delivered. And there appeared another wonder in heaven: for behold, a great red dragon having seven heads, and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads: And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and cast them to the earth. And the dragon stood before the woman, which was ready to be delivered, to devour her child, when she had brought it forth. So she brought forth a man child, which should ‘rule all nations with a rod of iron’: and that her child was taken up unto God and to his throne. And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand, two hundred and threescore days. And there was a battle in heaven, Michael and his Angels, fought against the dragon, and the dragon fought and his angels.”

Revelation 12:1-6

Oh by the way, you shouldn’t worry about any of my last suitors stealing any of your claims. Well besides loser. But that’s just because I’m a loser who likes losers. Posers too. But you ain’t no poser I fucking love you. But you are a fucking loser, and I love that about you.

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lirotationside · 1 month ago

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Your setup with Astarion? Far from standard, but hey, this is Night City. Nothing’s standard here. He’d latched onto you after you pulled him out of that shitshow, half-dead and running on charm. You figured he’d crash for a couple of days, maybe heal up, give you the intel he promised, and bounce. People didn’t stick around in this town; the city chewed through connections faster than your neural processors.

Credit where it's due - he delivered. His intel got you into that mixer, gave you the perfect shot at your Kong Tao mark. Clean hit, fat stack of eddies, even tossed him his cut. Should've been done. Gig closed. Next job.

But no.

Days bled into weeks, and somehow, he just... stuck.

He wasn't exactly a model tenant - scattered empty stims and synth-food containers like some twisted treasure trail - but hell, your own living space looked like a Scav den most days.

He even cooked once. Or tried to. Whatever the hell he’d attempted with the synth-meat still clung to the edges of the kitchen.

You weren’t gonna sleep with him—not after what happened—and he mostly kept out of your way.

Then there were the nights he’d vanish. No word, no note, just slipping into the neon blur like a shadow.

And when he came back?

He looked like he’d gone a few rounds in a back-alley pit fight with someone twice his size. Clothes shredded, lip split, cradling an arm that looked one hit away from falling off. Whatever poise and polish he normally carried was long gone, replaced by a raw, jagged exhaustion.

One morning, curiosity got the better of you.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked as he limped into the kitchen, half-draped in his torn coat.

"Nothing," he said, waving you off, wincing as he slumped into the nearest chair. "Got into a little scuffle."

You snorted. “A little scuffle? Choom, you look like you kissed a cyberpsycho’s mantis blades.”

That got you one of his trademark smirks, though the effect was somewhat dulled by his split lip. “Should see the other guy.”

Classic deflection. You weren’t buying it, but you didn’t push. You weren’t his keeper.

Still, there was something about the way he carried himself—haunted, wary, like he was running from something bigger than Night City itself. It stuck with you, even when you told yourself it didn’t matter.

In Night City, you don't go digging unless you're prepared for what crawls out. And you weren’t ready. Not yet.

_________________

The moment you stepped through the door, you knew something was off. The air in the apartment was thick, humid, stinking of sweat and something sharp. You rounded the corner, and there he was—collapsed on the floor, shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pale as a ghost. One wrist locked to a water pipe with cheap security cuffs that have already torn skin.

Your stomach dropped, then twisted into a knot.

“What the actual fuck, Astarion?” you snapped, your voice ricocheting off the walls like a shot.

His head turned slowly; eyes glassy but flickering with recognition. “It’s... not what it looks like,” he rasped, his voice barely there.

You stormed over, anger bubbling hot under your skin. “Not what it looks like? You’re cuffed to my fucking plumbing, lying in your own sweat. What the hell does it look like?”

He winced, trying to sit up but barely managing a slump. “I didn’t bring anyone here,” he said, his voice firmer this time, but the words came with a tremor he couldn’t hide.

You glared, heat rising in your chest. “Oh, so I’m just supposed to take your word for it? I don’t care what you’re into, Astarion, but you don’t bring it here. This is my space, got it?”

He flinched, and for a second, the cracks in his usual charm showed. The vulnerability in his expression wasn’t something you were used to seeing, and it hit harder than you’d like to admit.

“I didn’t,” he said, his tone sharper now, almost desperate. “I don’t... I wouldn’t. Not here.”

“Then what the hell is this?” you demanded, gesturing at the cuffs, the mess, the whole damn scene.

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, refusing to meet your gaze. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, voice low and clipped.

“Fine,” you said, standing up abruptly. “Stay here. Figure your shit out. But this? This can’t happen again.”

You turned to leave, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.

“Wait,” he called after you, "Can you hand me the key over there?"

you pause for a bit, pushing down the rage burning inside you, when you tossed him the key to the handcuff, he said softly, “I’m... sorry.”

You turned didn’t look back. “Yeah,” you said, the word heavy with exhaustion. “Me too.”

_______________________

The night stretched thin, neon lights bleeding through your grimy apartment blinds.

You stumbled through the door, the sharp tang of cheap liquor still on your tongue. The burn in your chest had dulled the anger from earlier, but not entirely.

Your eyes fell on Astarion as he moved silently, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the floor.

He looked up as you swayed against the doorframe, a disarming smile already in place. “You’re back,” he said.

You feel like your head is spinning. You don't get the whole situation. shoulda kick him out, shoulda never let him in.

He stepped closer in your silence, cautious, "I know I owe you an explanation.”

“I promise you—no one else was here. Whatever you’re thinking… it’s not what happened. I’ll tell you everything. I just need to sort it out first.”

You sank onto the couch, arms crossed, glaring at him. “Why the hell should I believe you? You’re a con artist. A sweet-talking joytoy who’s too damn good at playing people.”

He took another careful step toward you, his presence intoxicating despite yourself. “I know I’ve made mistakes,” he said, his tone shifting, smooth and coaxing. “You’re angry, and you should be. But I see it. I see how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. You want me. Let me prove I’m worth it.”

You stared at him, taken aback by this sudden change of topic. You realized that he never tried, and if he wants, how easily he can slip past your defenses.

“I’m not falling for this,” you muttered, voice weak even as you tried to sound firm.

He moved closer, his hand brushing yours, light as a whisper. “Aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice velvet-smooth. “Because I see the way you breathe when I’m near. The way your pulse quickens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snapped, but the words lacked weight.

“Oh, I think I do,” he countered, leaning in, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t... well, that tells me all I need to know.”

Your heart raced, your body betraying you. The logical part of your brain screamed to push him away, but the pull was undeniable. He was too close, too intoxicating, and you hated how much you wanted him.

“Astarion…” you started, but his lips were already on yours, soft and teasing, testing your resolve. When you didn’t pull back, he pressed closer, his hands finding your face, cradling it like something precious.

When he pulled back, you swallowed hard, “You’re trouble, Astarion. I can feel it.”

He smiled, soft and knowing, “Maybe. But trouble has a way of finding you, doesn’t it?”

Whatever this was, you decided to let it play out. Maybe he was trouble, but for now, he was your trouble. And in Night City, that was as close to a connection as most people ever got.

______________________

The apartment was dim, the only light spilling out from the half-closed bathroom door. You kicked off your boots, the weight of another night in Night City heavy on your shoulders, but something was wrong. The air carried a sour stench that turned your stomach. You moved closer, and then you saw it.

Astarion.

He was curled in the tub, his body trembling violently, water splashing onto the tiled floor with each convulsion. His pale skin was flushed a sickly red, sweat mingling with the cold water that barely covered his shivering form. The floor was a disaster—puke smeared across the tiles, bile and spit dripping into the water below.

“Shit,” you breathed, rushing in and dropping to your knees beside the tub. “Astarion?”

His eyes cracked open, pupils blown wide, unfocused. His lips moved, but no sound came out, his body arching weakly like he was fighting something invisible. You pressed your fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, but rapid—way too fast. His skin burned under your touch, fever-hot despite the cold water.

“Fuck, you’re burning up,” you muttered, already reaching for your holo. “I’m calling Trauma Team.”

“No!” His hand shot out, weak but insistent, grabbing your wrist. His grip was slippery, his fingers trembling like leaves in a storm, but his eyes found yours—bloodshot, desperate.

“You’re dying,” you snapped, heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not about to let you flatline on my bathroom floor!”

He shook his head, the motion jerky, his teeth chattering hard enough to sound like gunfire. “No... no Trauma Team. Please.” His voice was raw, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you hissed, pulling your wrist free. “You’re burning alive, Astarion! I don’t even know what’s happening to you!”

He let out a strangled laugh, more of a wheeze, collapsing back against the edge of the tub. “It’ll pass... Just... need time.”

“This?” You gestured wildly at the scene, your voice rising. “This doesn’t just pass! What are you on?”

His eyes slid shut, and for a moment, you thought he’d passed out. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he whispered, “Nothing... not anymore.”

You froze, the words cutting through the chaos like a blade. Realization hit, slow and ugly. “You’re withdrawing.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his jaw tightened told you everything you needed to know.

“Goddammit, Astarion,” you growled, sinking back on your heels, running a hand through your hair. “What were you on? 'Dorph? Black Lace? Fucking Glitter?”

“Does it matter?” His voice was a rasp, sharp edges dulled by exhaustion.

“Of course it fucking matters!” you shot back, your voice cracking. “How the hell am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what you’re fighting?”

His head lolled to the side; his gaze unfocused again. “Don’t need help... I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah?” you snapped, gesturing at the mess around you. “This is you ‘handling it’?”

His breath hitched, a shudder running through his body, and for a moment, the anger drained out of you, replaced by something quieter, heavier.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice softer now, though it still trembled with frustration. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you say something?”

His laugh was bitter, a hollow sound that made your chest ache. “Because... it’s my problem. Not yours.”

You stared at him, at the shadow of the man who had strutted into your life with charm dripping off him like oil. The veneer was gone now, stripped raw, leaving nothing but pain and vulnerability.

“It is now,” you said, standing up and reaching for a towel.

“What are you—”

“Move,” you barked, cutting him off. “You’re getting out of that water before you go into shock. I will call my ripperdoc, you can trust him.”

His expression was a mix of confusion and something else—something almost like relief. For once, he didn’t argue. He just nodded, letting you pull him up, shivering and unsteady, as you wrapped the towel around his trembling shoulders.

Astarion in Cyberpunk AU

POV: How you met him in Night City =P

You’re just another low-tier merc in Night City's meat grinder, same as any other. Sure, you smoke, you chug whatever synthalcohol gets your synapses sparking, maybe pop a little Black Lace now and then for kicks. But one thing you don’t do? Pick up joytoys from Jig-Jig. Nah, choom. Not your scene.

Until tonight's clusterfuck.

You were on a gig, dressed to fool the corpo crowd—chrome hidden under slick, expensive synth-leather. Playing at being one of Night City's untouchables. Then your optics lock onto him.

A joytoy, but not just any joytoy. Lux-grade. The kind of beauty that made your targeting systems glitch and your tits perk up. Picking him up wasn’t the plan—never the plan—but here you are, trying to blend in, figuring if all these suits are doing it, maybe you should too.

Preem bastard had a silver tongue worth more than his chrome, smooth like pre-War whiskey. He leaned in close, casually dropped the very intel you need - an exclusive corpo mixer, one hosting Kong Tao mid-level procurement officer - your target - fresh from Guangzhou. The two of you hit it off, chatting over overpriced drinks at the bar, and one thing led to another. His place.

Then you wake up.

Your choom on the other end of the link, screaming. Your brain feels like it’s been through a shredder. You’re sprawled out on some piss-stained mattress, butt naked, weapons gone.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You’ve been played. Conned. During a job, no less. Just your fucking luck.

Gotta escape before they rip you open, gotta figure out where the hell you are. But one thing’s for sure—you’re gonna find that pretty bastard, and when you do, he’s got a world of hurt coming his way. _______

Your head’s pounding, but you’ve been in tighter spots before. You force a reboot, running a quick scan. Typical corpo blacksite flophouse—The stink of blood, sweat, and bad decisions clings to the walls.

You find a rusted shard of metal and grip it tight. Better than nothing. You rigged the lock and slipped out of the room, the sound of your bare feet drowned out by the buzz of cheap fluorescents overhead.

The hall’s empty. Nobody watching the cams—amateurs. You find a storage room with your gear dumped in a corner like garbage. Your Militech pistol? Check. punknife? Check. Even your boots. Slipping them on feels like hugging an old friend.

Now clothed and armed, you should be bailing, cutting your losses. But the faint sound of muffled screams crawls under your skin, pulling you back into the fray.

You creep closer, the door half-open. Inside, him.

The joytoy. Astarion.

Strapped down like a Maelstrom test subject, neural wires spiderwebbing from his temples into some black-market brain-dance rig. The machine's whining like a dying cat, each pulse making him scream. Some chrome-headed ganger's working the controls, grinning like he's watching prime-time BD entertainment.

“Picked yourself a zero, didn't ya? No creds, no dirt—just a fucking merc with nothin’ to give. You are lucky boss is not in town.” the ganger sneers, twisting a dial, “What good’s a pretty face if it doesn’t deliver?”

Astarion convulses, tears streaking his otherwise flawless face, “I—tried,” he whispers. "Please, give me another chance.”

Something snaps in your gut. You’ve seen people broken, but this guy? He’s built to endure. Still, this is next-level fucked.

Your blade whispers through the air, clean and silent. The ganger drops, and you catch the falling remote and cut the power to the rig.

Astarion slumps, breathing shallow. You free him, pulling the wires from his skin. He flinches but doesn’t resist.

“Can you walk?” you ask, dragging him to his feet.

He groans but nods. “I’ve had worse.”

The two of you fight your way out, bullets and curses flying. By the time you hit the street, you’re out of breath and out of ammo, but alive. Barely.

You lean against a wall, wiping blood off your hands. “I should fucking gut you for this,” you say, leveling him with a glare.

Astarion chuckles, though it’s more pained than amused. “I’m flattered. But I was under orders, if that softens the blow.”

“Doesn’t,” you snap.

Still, you don’t hurt him. Just turn to leave, figuring he’ll disappear back into whatever pit he crawled out of. But when you glance back, he’s trailing behind you.

“What are you doing?” you snap again, tired and still on edge.

“I have nowhere else to go,” he says softly, eyes downcast, his voice a quiet plea.

“Not my problem,” you grumble, turning to keep walking.

“Wait,” he calls out, stepping closer. When you face him again, the vulnerability in his posture is tinged with a familiar, deliberate charm. His lips curve into the barest hint of a smile. “I could… make it up to you. I’m quite skilled at certain things”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That so? You think I’m just gonna take you in because you bat your lashes?”

“Not just because of that,” he murmurs, tilting his head just enough to catch the faint light. “I can be useful. I wasn't lying before, you know? the mixer? I can get you in.”

You pause, damn it he is beautiful. He shifts closer, his voice dipping into something silkier. “Let me stay, just for a while. I’ll keep out of your way. Or,” he adds, his smile sharpening ever so slightly, “if you’d rather, I could be very in your way. Whatever you prefer.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Fine. One screw-up, though, and you’re out. Got it?”

“Crystal clear,” he purrs, bowing his head slightly. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

As he falls into step beside you, you mutter under your breath. “Already regretting it.”

His soft chuckle is barely audible, but it lingers all the way home.

#having fun trying different writing style #Feels weird to write so different than the way I talk #good practice for diverse characters

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