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whillywisp · 1 year ago

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heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i.

SUMMARY: They met along the shores and then met again at the foot of those that worshipped them. One rose, one fell from grace and the other caught them both in her gentle embrace.

Or alternatively,

Finnick, Reader and Annie's victory, loss and everything else in between. Brought to you by the music of Hozier, Agust D, Halsey and my wandering friend crafted with grief: A story of trials, love, resentment and rage.

WARNINGS: gore, nightmares, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, self harm, child abuse, near death experiences, forced prostitution, non explicit talks of prostitution, drug addiction, alcoholism, domestic violence, non explicit smut, miscommunication.

PAIRINGS: Finnick Odair x Reader x Annie Cresta

My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?

— Francesca, Hozier.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Chapter One: Amygdala.

Summary: It's been six weeks, seventeen hours, forty one minutes and twenty three seconds since he came out of the arena drenched in someone else's blood and he eats dried mangoes with a stranger to cope with it.

Warnings: mild gore, unreliable narrator, PTSD.

Word Count: 2k

Because they're also all in the past now. So, is all countless suffering for my own good?

— Amygdala By Agust D.

6 weeks after the 65th Hunger Games.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes and tried to focus, he could hear it. Wind chimes, his sister laughing as she struggles to keep up with him on her toddler legs, the wet sand making it hard for the three year old and the waves splashing them with salt as he slows down just enough for her to wrap her chubby arms around his legs and think she was the one who caught him.

Her giggles sound bright as wind chimes and just for that minute he can pretend everything's oka—

She drops down next to him in the grass as unceremoniously as one would when sitting down for a boring class. The wind, freezing and cold in a way that's only characteristic to District 4, ruffles his hair as he turns to look at the stranger.

She's familiar but, honestly speaking, so is everyone else in the tiny public school of District 4. But he's never spoken to her, that's something he's sure about. The girl doesn't turn to look at him, instead choosing to look at the waves crashing against the foot of the cliffs.

Neither of them should be here, not really. This small patch of grass and wildflowers was out of bounds for it was perched at the edge of the cliffs that line the back of the school. But Finnick couldn't care less and it doesn't seem like this girl does either but that doesn't explain her presence there, sitting right next to him on the semi-damp grass, too close to be just sharing the space.

His eyes take in her nonchalance for one more minute before he eventually says, "What are you doing here?"

The girl's eyes, as deep as the sea they sat in front of, snapped to look at him and he inhaled sharply, only barely stopping himself from visibly squirming at the intensity of her gaze. She shrugs then, looking back out at the sea as she speaks easily.

"Admiring the view."

He nods and sighs, mimicking her movements as he turns back to the sea too. For a moment, he says nothing, content to stare out at the vast expanse of blue. But after a bit, he turns his head to look back at her. "Who are you?"

Her cheeks redden, just enough to be noticeable that makes something in his heart thaw, before she glances at him, her voice as delicate as lotus silk.

"We, ah, we sit in English together."

He looks at her, actually looks at her, and realises she's indeed the girl who sat next to him in English. Mrs. Hedsson had made them sit together so she could help him keep up but in all honesty, he's spent the past few weeks sleeping in class and for some strange reason, the girl had had neither woken him up nor snitched on him.

He clears his throat, before saying as pleasantly as he could muster up to at the moment, "Of course. You're the smart kid right?"

She raises an eyebrow and tilts her to the side in a way that reminds him of those terrifying, colourful snakes from the arena and their bite making his entire body numb and burn like he was on fire— "I have a name, you know?" She deadpans, a barely disguised sigh in her voice.

He nods, laughing nervously. "Well, do enlighten me on your name." He smirked at her, as he would at the crowds of people in the Capitol or even at the girls here in District 4, but this girl looked at him like he had grown another head, which made his cheeks darken.

She glanced at him curiously, as if he were a very interesting type of lizard before finally speaking. "I'm Y/N."

"You look like a Y/N." *Finnick murmurs. "I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair." He pauses, as if debating how much more to say. "Why don't you ever speak in class?"

"And you certainly look like a Finnick." She looked at him with a frown, making him want to swallow his own tongue. "I do speak in class. You'd know that if you didn't sleep through them."

"I don't sleep through class." Finnick counters, defensive. His face flashes through a few different emotions as he looks at her. Anger, frustration, annoyance, then finally resignation. "I'm trying to figure out..." He sighs and looks back out at the sea. Then, he turns his head back towards her. "... why I'm talking to you."

She shrugs, putting her hand into her pocket and for a second he's sure she will pull out a knife, — like his dagger, like the one from the arena, the weapon he had depended on for the first several days and he braces himself for the pain, for the warm blood to stain his uniform — but all that comes out is a faded blue handkerchief which she unwraps to reveal few pieces of dried mangoes.

Finnick stares at them blankly, a little lost. Dried mangoes which were salted and made during the summer using mango seeds were a delicacy in District 4, far too expensive for the normal people to afford sometimes. And by the looks of her old faded school uniform, the girl wasn't anyone special with enough money to be able to buy such lavish things and the only reason he could think she was able to was probably because of his win that caused the prices of things in the market to drop. So he couldn't understand why she's sharing something as precious as this with someone who could buy her entire existence three times over with all his wealth as a victor.

He looked up at her, confused but she just smiled, placing the handkerchief with the sour treat between the two of them. "You looked tired, you skipped lunch and if you sleep through the next English class, Mrs. Hedsson will send you to the principal's office. The victor status won't protect you from the suspension, you know. So eat and keep yourself awake."

Finnick looked at the mangoes with confusion again. Then, his expression softens and a small smile plays at the edge of his lips. "You're right. I skipped lunch. I should eat something." He takes the mangoes gratefully. "But how did you know I didn't eat lunch?" He asks curiously, taking a bit of the food.

She shrugged again, taking one for herself and chewing on it carefully. "We also have maths together, and it's right before lunch. And you never go to the cafeteria." She paused, rolling the piece of mango between her fingers as she peered at him through her lashes. "Also, Mrs. Hedsson is still not happy about you killing her daughter in the arena. So if you're going to Violet's funeral next week, you should probably try to talk to her about it. Maybe take a gift, make sure it's expensive or thoughtful and write a eulogy. Also avoid her boyfriend, Ren. He and his friends are planning to drag you into an alleyway and beat you up."

Finnick stiffens, visibly agitated by everything she's said to him. "How do you know all these things?" He asks, his tone somewhere between annoyed and concerned. "How do you know I wasn't going to the cafeteria? Or th-that Mrs. Hedsson is mad at me? Or that Ren is gunning for me?"

She only raises an eyebrow at his rudeness and his cheeks flush in embarrassment but he stands his ground, his irritation winning over his guilt. She takes another bite of the mango before smiling in a way that reminds him of a child about to get into trouble.

"People don't like to talk to me. But I do listen to them."

This stumps him a little. You would think someone that looked like that would have more friends but apparently not. But that doesn't subdue his anxiety. "And...you decided today was the day you would share all of this information with me?" He asks, his tone a mixture of disbelief and panic. "Why now? Why me?"

"Because no one else is going to," She says easily, crossing her ankles as she watches a butterfly settle on a wildflower near her feet.

"Everyone here is too self absorbed and desperate to be a part of the Hunger Games fanfare. They're too envious to care about you as a person because they don't like how popular and loved by the Capitol you are. They're all going to be at Violet's funeral next week," she says, turning to look at him. "And watching you get accused by Mrs. Hedsson for her daughter's death or getting beat up by Ren will make them feel like they won over you, that you're not as invincible as everyone thinks you are. So when next year one of them gets selected for the Games and you are mentoring them, they can hold your momentary weakness over you."

She scoffs, pushing her hair back as the wind blows it into her eyes. "The only animals that have a black heart is ayami cermani, a type of chicken," and Finnick can't help but be a little impressed by her random knowledge about chickens with actual black hearts as she continued. "But no. I'm not telling you this out of generosity but because you left your vigilance back in the arena and that's not smart. All of these things have been happening in plain sight around you. Ren glares at you during maths. Mrs. Hedsson targets you in English and you get detention for no reason. Other kids knock into you or stick too close to you for it to be normal. You'd know that if you paid attention."

Finnick pauses, trying to process everything she had just said before he speaks, "And you're giving me a heads up just... out of the kindness of your black little heart?" He asks sarcastically, not able to hide his skepticism.

Finnick flushes at her observations, a little surprised — and also, maybe a little unnerved — to find that some of her criticisms of him are legitimate. "I have been...a bit absent these last few months. You're right about that." He concedes, looking at her curiously. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She whispers back, her eyes trained on the butterfly that was still on the wildflower. "You, of all people though, should be more vigilant."

He raises an eyebrow, popping another piece of dried mango into his mouth before chuckling nervously. "You're too wise for a fourteen year old."

She shrugged before picking up the rest of the snack and placing it, handkerchief and all, in his lap. He glanced up at her, a little surprised by the gesture. "I told you. I listen to people."

His breath hitches in his chest and before he could say something, the shrill ringing of the school bell cuts through the peace of the moment and she stands up, brushing the grass off her faded blue skirt. She looks out at the ocean for a split second and starts walking back towards the school before turning back around, to look at him, her clear, high voice startling him out of his trance.

"Oh and, Finnick? I'm sorry about your family."

He stiffens, watching her walk back to the school without waiting for an answer. He couldn't understand. How did she know? No one did, not outside the people who cared and his fellow victors that lived in the Victor's Village. It only happened last week. How did she know?

But his mind couldn't bring itself to draw connections as it lost itself in the familiar haze of pain. Her condolences hang in the air where she stood as his breathing becomes shallow and his vision blurs, both with tears and the living room floor covered in blood, his little sister's blank blue eye staring up at him, her slight body that didn't even come up to his waist laying across his parents, their own eyes wide open as if surprised even in death and their lifeless gaze feels as heavy as the single sheet of expensive cream paper with names, hotel room numbers and the exact composition of Mags' arthritis medication crumpled in the pocket of his school uniform trousers.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

A/N: I'm a little rusty so be nice. BE NICE.

#finnick odair x reader #hunger games #fanfiction #finnick imagine #finnick odair #thg #the hunger games #finnick x reader #finnick x you #annie cresta #annie cresta x reader #annie cresta imagine #annie x you #fic #writing #canon divergent au #au #moonfm

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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year ago

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“Dear stranger (Donna)”

Donna Beneviento x Reader (gif ©noxdivina)

cw :: smoking || mentions of self-h#rm || scars || unhealthy coping mechanisms’ more like it || height place phenomenon

howdy this gay is back in time for pride month (not really) just a little comfort fic i wrote for myself really. hugs from donna is not a want but a need rn 😭

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The cigarette smoke is bitter, leaving a pleasant burn on the back of your throat as you take a deep inhale. For a while, you hold your breath, allowing the chemicals to spread through your lungs before puffing it out of your lips eventually. Your neck, meanwhile, is bared to the sky, eyes lazily roaming over grey clouds of varying shades.

A mindless fingertip is tracing the silver lines along the length of your forearm. Another drag of the cigarette brings a chuckle to your lips, and the sound is dry and deprecating even to your own ears. Smoking is an awful habit, that you fully understand. But at the same time, it is undeniably cathartic. It was either that or a blade to the flesh. In no way do you wish to die, although you would not terribly mind dying. You cannot deny however that you do revel in the sensation of blood blooming on your skin, and in pain, you find euphoria.

With another hearty inhale, the cigarette bud slips through your fingers to be reunited with its fellow friends that have already met their untimely demise beneath your well-worn boots. You are tired, so so tired. Tired of the strangers that call themselves your family, tired of yourself for being so emotionally weak, for actively ruining yourself under the guise of release, tired for your mother’s stead for she has to listen to her brother and sister nitpicking about her daughter on top of handling incessant chores.

In this god-forsaken world, you have learnt that no one else can be as caring and tolerating as your parents, and you appreciate them for it. At least, your parents are endlessly loving which in itself is a luxury that not everyone can afford. You love them, oh how you love them, but you also hate yourself, for their only child ends up being a damaged goods.

At the moment, you do not have a clue where in the world you are, having wandered wherever your feet have been carrying you. A glance around reveals nothing much obscured as it is by thick fog. There is a rush of water somewhere below, and you conclude you must be standing atop a cliff with a waterfall. Sighing, you kick the cigarette buds off the edge, and it looks tempting, liberating: the way they plummet down the misty abyss. A sudden urge to throw yourself off the cliff comes with a vengeance, and it does not help that nicotine has you slightly tipsy, the world around you spinning as you wobble on your legs.

And then, before you know it, you are being pulled into a body, held close to a chest by an encirclement of arms around your back. A delightful aroma journeys up your nose as soon as your cheek collides with black fabric. It is soft to the touch, and smells faintly of tea that is quickly overshadowed by a soothing blend of jasmine and sandalwood. You cannot help but steal a generous inhale. The smoothness of jasmine certainly is a lovely complement to the spiciness of sandalwood.

“Don’t, please. I can’t let you.”

The soft spoken words are uttered by a voice that is charmingly deep, carried to you by a gentle breeze that tickles your exposed nape. A hint of desperation is discernible in her quiet murmur, and the gentleness of it wildly contracts with the cage of arms whose tightness around you becomes nearly unbearable. It is oddly calming, freeing despite the confinement, and the realisation is as much a relief as it is a surprise.

What you have been needing after all is to be embraced, to be comforted, to feel wanted, and how ironic it is that your salvation is found within the arms of a stranger. No questions are asked. You find no strangeness in her actions. Nor does your mind feel stable enough to deem it necessary to compose yourself. The dam breaks, and you fall apart. Burying your face in the chest of this black-cladded stranger while hugging her close to yourself, you cry, oh how you cry, loud, miserable sobs spilling forth your lips as you grab fistful of her dress.

When the body in your arms tenses in an uncomfortable way, you are too far gone to notice, and so too when the arms around your body suddenly lose their bravado. Regardless of the hesitation, you are met with no hands that are forcing you away from her. Only after a moment or two when your tears do not cease does a kind hand find the crown of your head.

Tentatively, placatingly, gentle fingers stroke your hair. You adjust in the hold of your salvation only to be met with even more dark fabric. Through a haze of tears, you regard the veiled woman with curiosity, occasional bouts of hiccuping sobs accompanying your otherwise silent scrutiny.

“You-”

A calloused pad of a thumb that gingerly follows a tear track elicits a sigh from you, and then, the same palm is cradling your cheek, the coolness of which is desirable against your feverish skin. Along with a flex of her fingers on your back, the veil goes aflutter right beneath where her nose is supposed to be when you decide to rest your chin between the junction of her collarbones. No sooner does the hand on your cheek go to cover your eyes than you go boneless in her arms. Your nose meanwhile is tickled by a saccharinely sweet scent that smells both floral and vaguely herbal.

And then, you blink.

And suddenly, the world goes dark.

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#donna beneviento x reader #lady donna beneviento #lady beneviento #house beneviento #character x reader #fanfic #resident evil donna #resident evil village #hurt/comfort #fluff #comfort #self indulgence time #self indulgence babey #self indulgence at its finest

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koala711 · 2 years ago

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My Missing Constant | I

[Kaeya x GN!Reader]

You never realize how important someone is to you until you lose them.

Content Warning(s): Grammar mistakes, minor mentions of alcohol consumption, a n g s t

Word(s): 1,238

[Prologue / 2 ]

(A/N) Slowly re-making this series. Not much has changed from the 1st post of this. ... Sorry I posted this so late. I thought I already posted it.

---

“That’s… interesting…”

Kaeya stared up at the edge of Starsnatch Cliff curiously, bringing a finger up to his chin as he was once again met with an empty sight of Mondstadt’s little wanderer for the 3rd time this week.

Whether he was punished for patrolling one of the calmest areas of Mond, or was sent on a mission, he’d bet 100 mora that you’d be on that cliff, but now... you’re missing.

Kaeya hesitantly continued his patrol, finding it a little hard to tear his eye away from the empty cliff. Maybe you’ll be back tomorrow? He’s got all the time to check after what he somewhat Klee do to one of Mondstadt’s towers. After all, Jean did punish him with a tedious job and nothing else exciting for a week once again. Why not find the missing variable to his repetitive days?

"(Y/n)?” Amber repeated to herself, trying to wrack her brain for some kind of answer for the knight. “No, I haven’t seen them since last week, sorry, but please tell me if you get any word on them.”

That was just one of the many dead ends Kaeya found himself in.

It was a little frustrating to not come up with anything after 2 more days. Usually, he’d be able to find some kind of lead after a couple of hours, but he was met with… nothing.

Kaeya let out a frustrated sigh, leaning against the wall and bar with a drink in hand. He watched as it swirled around and around and glanced up at the redhead manning the tavern who rubbed a glass clean. Slowly, and obnoxiously, Kaeya breathed in and let out another long, dramatic sigh.

“What.”

Kaeya instantly smirked, setting down his glass of wine and leaned a little closer to the man.

“Do you happen to recall the little kid we used to catch crystal flies with?”

Diluc paused, practically burning holes into the wood counter as he avoided Kaeya’s gaze. It was obvious he did remember the little kid that they ran around with as a child, frolicking as if there was nothing wrong in the world. He could remember all different kinds of memories of that little kid as they grew up. They mostly consisted of good ones, but the most recent one always left a bitter taste of guilt.

“Yes. Why?”

“Apparently, our little friend hasn’t been seen for the past week,” Kaeya whispered, dancing his fingers around the base of his glass. “I was wondering if you’d heard anything about them from a little bird.”

This piqued Diluc’s interest.

Your presence on the second floor’s corner was oddly missing last Monday. It wasn’t a very alarming instance, thinking that maybe you’d turn up next week. It was only one night. It’s not like one night would bring him to worry.

“What have I told you about this?” The bartender groaned, finding this to be the 10th time he’s been having to remind the blue-headed man of his words. “Discuss these things in private.”

“We’re here at the bar alone while all your customers are feet away. Is this not private enough?”

“Being out in the open is not private,” Diluc scolded in a low voice as he leaned down to put the dry glass away. “If you really want to know, no. I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame,” Kaeya huffed, bringing his glass of wine up to his lips to take a sip. It hovered above his bottom lip for a moment before he tossed his head back, taking it all in one gulp. The glass hit the bar with a loud clank. “I’ll be off then.”

Since when was the last time he cared about you this much?

Your presence in his life has been nothing more than a flickering flame on a candle in the kitchen, struggling to stay alive. Kaeya never realized that that flame was so close to disappearing until he noticed how dark the room has gotten.

For as long as Kaeya Alberich has known you, you were a quiet person. Someone that only bloomed once you cracked at their walls bit by bit. There were many ways for a person that’d bloomed for you to disappear behind even more walls than before though, and he knows that he was one of your reasons.

He shouldn’t be so taken aback by your disappearance, so why? Why did it still hurt so much?

Regrets upon regrets piled up in his brain as he recalled your distant laughter he’d hear in the square as you talked to Sucrose at the crafting bench or the small smile he’d see from afar as you played with the city’s strays. How you’d always take his arm on the same night every year to take his drunken self home no matter your distant relationship, because you knew why he was so incapacitated. How he enjoyed being so close to you for once and not have to admire your (eye color) eyes from afar-

Knock knock

Once again, Kaeya Alberich was left in his office alone with only the sound of a ticking clock accompanying his stay. He didn’t realize how the moon was already beginning to take its turn in the sky. The candles on his desk were out, yet to be lit before he’d descended into his thoughts.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in, trying to regain any composure he’d lost.

“Come in.”

In walked Noelle dressed in her usual uniform, only this time, with a familiar envelope held in her hands. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor, joining the clock’s chorus as the hour hand hit nine.

“Hello, Cavalry Captain Kaeya.” She approached his desk with delicacy, softly placing the envelope onto his desk and facing it towards him. “I have come with a letter from Master Diluc.”

“Thank you, Noelle. You are dismissed.”

Usually, he’d find it in his pile of papers like a magic trick, or in his small, singular apartment only a five-minute walk from here. Diluc was always secretive about their letter exchanges if any, so this was new.

A rush of possibilities of the letters contents made his curiosity begin to itch. It’s only been a week since the two of he men had spoken in the Taven last. Kaeya has been going to the Cat’s Tail whenever the urge to drink began in his gut, too embarrassed to let the red head see just what a mess your absence made him.

Kaeya leaned on his chair until the door finally closed behind the girl, grasping the letter for it contents urgently. As usual, the penmanship was as legible as always. In his opinion, it could look a little better, but Diluc never had the knack for it.

‘Dear K,

There has been word about a ‘(hair color) haired wanderer with a blue ribbon adorned with gold wrapped around their Cryo vision’ helping around Liyue Harbor.

Don’t mess up this time.’

“‘Don’t mess up’, huh?” Kaeya mused, gazing down at the piece of paper with a smirk.

He sighed, shaking his head, and got up from his seat and stuffed the letter into an inner coat pocket. A little rush was tingling through his veins with each item he picked up. One after another, Kaeya stuffed items he deemed as useful or possibly useful into a satchel and disappeared into the night like the wind with only a small letter left on his desk.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #genshin impact kaeya #genshin imagines #kaeya imagines #genshin x reader

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the-fandom-qu33n · 1 year ago

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Chapter 4____To Strike A Match

(UF Sans/Reader)

Rated M...violence, profanity and much else soon to come

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summary

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burnt out sick of the recurring timeline everything is starting to break him down little by little... day after day drink after drink he needed something different a smoke would be good... just needed a...light?

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it snarled starting to wander down the flower field

ripping and tearing at any flower that stood in his way

quickly you followed him...he didn't sound familiar?...

she had never dreamed of another monster like shadow

she didn't recognise...as he disappeared down the cliffs edge before him

she went to call out to him noticing...no sound came out of her.. again she tried to call out to the monster but to no avail.. she watched in muted horror as the black like fog surrounding her began to drip and pool a black ooze.. the sour smelling slime began to move and shift growing in size before two red blinding lights stared at her in the mess of the blackness...a dark eerie chuckle left the blob as it formed a ...well she didn't know what exactly it was

...it looked strange...a child of some sort possibly...brown hair...glowing red eyes...a long almost painful looking smile... and a striped shirt...it must be a child then! all children in Snowdin wore it.

y/n nodded at her new found conclusion as she stared at it.

even though it looked like a mere child ..it was strange...its skin a light cream color...no scales or armor of any kind...no horns no sharp teeth..no tail by the looks of it either

...that's strange..dreaming up two monsters she had never seen... it stared at her before tilting its head as it giggled never blinking.

{"so after all this time the timeline is finally shifting to adapt is it?"}

confused y/n stared at the child knowing full well she couldn't speak..so what was the point...it was just some weird dream afterall.

the child chuckled scanning over her slowly.

{"The bar tender?...how amusing"}

did...was it talking about her father? what had he done?? how did this thing know him...?

{"so curious..so confused and utterly oblivious aren't you?"}

it laughed at her, a laugh gargled by the black ooze spilling from its eyes and mouth making y/n shudder...more like a nightmare then...

{"a new addition to the timeline...I wonder what use you will be to me monster..."}

At that the once clear light faded from the glowing orbs and circle from above...turning her entire area black... she knew what this was..it was a confrontation...what had this child done that for?...quickly as she wondered that a brilliant upside down heart floated out of her chest glowing a brilliant white. titling her head she watched as the child seemed to be reading something...something she couldn't see..but the child looked intrigued.

{"low Hp..not the lowest I've seen...no LV..no EXP either.."}

LV?...EXP? what were these things this child was saying..She knew HP but..what were these other words and why directed at her??...the child laughed again before halting the confrontation.

"a towns monster from snowdin...no battle experience?...low HP?..

absolutely no LV either you'll be easy... "

what was this thing talking about?? how could her head form such a confusing nightmare on things she's never even heard?! maybe in a scary story book or something she briefly found on Monstergram at some point?...flickering y/n tried to figure out where she could have possibly met this creepy weird flesh thing..but nothing arose from her desperate searching...the child chuckled seemingly knowing what y/n was attempting to do as it began to walk around her as it hummed.

{"I wonder how you've survived the other monsters being weak and unexperienced..."}

it seemed to ponder this question as it stilled infront of her again making her flames swirl in uncertainty being this close to this..thing...made her very uneasy....what others?... was she talking about the Snowdin residents? they were quite friendly to her...

{" no you fool not the residents...im surprised the fish woman or better yet the walking lamp post hasn't even so much have scratched you....im very surprised that smiley dust pile hasn't snuffed you out...been on their good sides have you?"}

fish woman?...lamp post??..smiley dust pile??? what in the underground was going on...for some reason these seemed like insulting nicknames and she didn't like it one bit...turning to leave the child growled before yanking her to sit down harshly.

with a muted yelp of surprise she sat..this child was strong...this entire nightmare was strange..why did it hurt??...she thought dreams couldn't harm monsters...Grillby had said so.

{" why hasnt a single monster harmed you...its like you are invisible...to them.. TELL ME"}

y/n flinched when the child had risen its voice..its eyes narrowing and its smile faltering...eyes glowing a darker red it snarled pulling out a knife behind its back....what was happening?! why did this child get so scary?! the fire rose on y/n fading into a pale yellow shadowed hue as she panicked...what could she do...she couldn't speak she couldn't move..what was happening to her...did this child have magic?...no..she was just scared...

paralyzed in complete and utter fear as the child brandished that knife yelling at her...her mind went blank.

as the knife hit her chest causing her hp -7 ...5 hp remainingwhat was this..how was she losing Hp in a dream...where was Grillby?...was she really going to die alone?.....

...

......

.........

slowly her thoughts came back..her vision returning after what had seemed like hours...was she dead? where was the child...? as her eyes refocused...all she saw before waking up was a dark shadowreaching towards her._______________________________________________________________________________

sitting up in a jolt you whipped your head left to right as your vision came tono flowers...no shiny circle.....this was your room...your family pictures of you and Grillby.books and DVD discs...plushies...everything was here...you were back home...you couldn't recall much of the dream...only the place and the crystal cluster...you were flickering in fear ..your breath ragged and uneven...why were you so tense and nervous?why couldn't you remember?? ...you had slowly came to the conclusion of it being a nightmare...but...you didn't understand why...flowers were such a nice thing...the crystal cluster ...maybe you could find it with Grillby today! quickly you shot out of bed and ran to your fathers roomGrillby was reading a book about different fry seasonings and salts...looking over he met you with a smile.

"good morning y/n what has you so hyper this early?"

giggling you sat beside him as he set the book down to listen as you began to retell what you could remember.the more detailed you had gotten oven the scenery the more Grillby had gotten quiet...silently he listened...but you could tell he wasn't happy...but to into your story you hadn't seemed to take action and ask why.______________________________________________________________________________

a crystal cluster...in the ceiling...

Grillby couldn't believe this. How did she...he had never once had a book containing images of stars and such in his home...y/n had been excited to share this but he knew deep down she knew it wasn't a cluster...it was something greater...and Grillby hated that thought...how did she...how could she dream of something monsters haven't seen since the war with the humans?!flashbacks to the war began to cloud his vision...so many monsters dusted..so much violence and blood shred from the humans...

they hated the monsters...had tried to wipe them out completely...and quickly to...mages...colors...blood...dust....everything began to give him a headache as he began to flare the more he thought the only flowers in the underground resided in waterfall as well...the multicolor flowers you sung over were definitely from the surface...everything about your dream HAD been up there...a place you both had never been and from Grillby's hard work...never heard of.... and hed be damned if he let that information spill now..she couldn't know...if she ever faced a human they'd dust her...he couldn't fathom that possibility...no...she had to stay here...

maybe she heard a story from some bar patron...maybe being out in the bar was a bad idea.. but he didn't want to lock her into the home under the bar...she was an adult now...she would get adventurous...it was wrong to do..but he had to think of SOMETHING and quickly..she was staring at him with wide curious eyes. A smile so wide it looked as if she was about to explode in glee at her findings..he had to stop it...for her...with a sigh he soothed is erratic flames before y/n took notice faking a chuckle as he patted her back.

"that is some wild dream my child..luckily crystal clusters are very common here...ill take you to one later today alright?"

yes...he would form a crystal cluster with his fire magic...form fake flowers and show her it wasn't from anywhere other than here...he could make this work...just a bit of...crafting...

__________________

if you took the time to read this i appreciate it...

#sans the skeleton #sans au #sans #fell sans x reader #fellbros #fell sans #fell #underfell fanfiction #undertale aus #underfell #sans underfell #UF Grillby #daddy's got a gun/baby better run #possible smut

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theofficersacademy · 2 years ago

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TEAM TAG: #KEVillage2023

WEEK 3: Where do you sleep, my golden city?

(TW: child death, brief suggestion of suicide)

“Don’t wander off too far!”

It’s not your voice, but your raw throat and racing heart suggests that it is. That girl, she’s always been curious. Always an explorer. Curse yourself for not keeping a better eye on her. Market stalls melt into the craggy mountainsides, a treacherous path through the Oghmas that you had crossed a thousand times before on your way to your missions, a path you now take with caution as you don’t know what lies ahead.

No. You do know. You know it as you see your daughter dangling by her ankle, held over the edge of a cliff by one of the aliens. Their cruel, sinister smiles, their scaled arms and sharp claws that dig into the child’s soft skin, they make a mark into your very soul.

We will take all that is precious to you.

Unmoved, they toss Arke off the cliff. The girl screams in terror, a scream cut short as her body falls upon the rocks.

There will be nothing left for you.

Despair floods your heart. You might feel compelled to run after her, to fling yourself off the cliffs in hopes that you catch her, or that you might not live another second without her.

—

You wake up curled in soft grass, under the warm blanket of night. A soft lullaby hums in your ear.

Yes… this was all a dream, a terrible dream. At last, the storm is over. At last, you can rest.

Dream Logic

As in all dreams, you have a vague sense of place and purpose, though they are up to your interpretation.

Your sense of place is returning to you. Though this location is more surreal than the last, there is also this lucid understanding that wasn’t present in the village. You might even remember what your mission was.

Speaking of, those of your group are not the only ones here. It’s not something you can really put to words, only that there are people to find. Not just the ones you’re looking for, but a greater presence, almost like a god. She surrounds you all as the night sky, the breeze that cradles you, the moon that smiles down at you, the warm air that embraces you. You can feel her thoughts in your mind, the affection she already has for you, the sharp grief she still holds. Enter NPC: ???

You don’t quite know what this place is. What you know is that it’s flooded with grief, the grief of anticipated or actual loss of love. It pervades this place, to the point where it’d be easy to drown in it. Worse, whenever you try to find higher ground, you start to feel ill the higher you go. Even climbing up a hill makes you nauseous. It takes a few minutes for your body to adjust to the change in altitude, so don’t rush yourselves when you need to go up.

Edelgard is here when you arrive. It looks like she is being held by an invisible person, the way she floats up in the air with her hands held close to her chest. For Edelgard, it’s like being held by her mother again. When she thinks about moving or going somewhere, she is unable to escape that person’s embrace and is instead rocked like a fussy infant. She begins the week at 1/10HP and with the KO status: Unit cannot collect materials from threads.

Places of interest:

This place is a dark forest, but not in a foreboding sense. This is a beautiful place, a peaceful place dimly lit by moonlight and fireflies. You hear gentle birdsong in the trees and a low, constant hum as the “god” sings a lullaby. The night sky encompasses this place, covering it like a blanket. The stars shine, pinpricks of light shining through the weave.

Goal:

There is nothing to worry about anymore.

If you’re set on rescuing the knights and escaping the dream, then you must prepare for the journey. There is nowhere to go but up.

The toys are ruined from the fall, but they can still be salvaged. Take 20 toys, break down what materials were used to make them, and return half of those materials to your inventory rounding up (half the wood, half the stone, etc)

Warning: In the upcoming dungeon, you will be taking continuous damage. Please keep this in mind as you decide what you will craft and how you will use your team’s heals.

Tasks

If you want anything from here, you need to ask for permission from this god of night. Without her say, nothing of use comes to you.

Herbs? Those are easy. The idea that you would want to go and pick flowers endears you to her, and her mind betrays this. She manifests a field of flowers for you, flush with the herbs you need.

Grants 3d2 Herbs per post.

Wood? She abhors the idea of you brutishly cutting down the trees. You’ll have to make do with sticks and twigs. She also refuses to leave you be, for there are dangerous knights in the woods, those that align themselves with the aliens. Those with white and red armor, bearing the symbol of a dragon…

Grants 2d2 Wood per post.

Stone? Even if you wanted to, she bans you from the mountains. If you insist on stone, you will have to collect it from the running river nearby where she can keep an eye on you. There are river stones to collect, but also flecks of gold and crystal that flow past your feet. You may be able to filter them out with your shirt…

Grants 4d2 Stone and 1 Chalkos per post.

Chalkos? The god is no mage, she tells you. That said, she is emotional, and the emotions stirred from holding Edelgard and listening to your requests occasionally causes chunks of Chalkos to fall from the sky. You may have to play with her emotions.

Grants 4d4 Chalkos.

#toakeraselephas2023 #kevillage2023

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janith-mga2022mi6015 · 1 month ago

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The Story - Recap

It is a usual day in school. We see Jake daydreaming while looking at the sky from the nearby window, The teacher is talking about something but Jake has no idea what she is talking about, Jake is an average student according to his teachers, but right now those are just random sounds to him because his mind is on the sky looking at the clouds. And suddenly Jake starts to draw something with a smile on his face.

This cuts to a scene where Jake is anxious and trying to study for a test he must face the next day. He is tired but he is also afraid of the feeling of being judged and compared by others when the results come out, that is why he is trying his best to keep his eyes open and focus.

Suddenly a doorway opens from the floor right below where Jake is sitting, and he falls into a dark room, lights start to turn on one by one from the middle of the room to the corner. Jake looks around him and notices that now he is in a courtroom. He is being judged by an old judge. There is a big list of things, not paying enough attention in the classroom and daydreaming is on the list among other things. And in the end, the judge sentenced him to “the box”. The box is a dark room surrounded by thick walls as they say. Jake starts to have second thoughts about mind wandering and exploring the world as he sees it. He felt stuck and scared in the box.

Suddenly Jake hears a voice from outside the box saying “There is no box“. The kid is confused and asks “What do u mean? And... Who are you? “The walls aren't real, just come out of it.” the voice says. The boy tries to put his hand out first, as the outside voice says the walls aren't real. Jake comes out of the box, He sees a strange person even though that person has a beard that looks like a cloud and most of his body is covered with clouds he looks and sounds like a child. He always had a big smile on his face. “See the walls aren't real,” he said with a smile. Jake looks around and sees machines where identical robotlike students are coming out from them like in a factory and piles of books that are taller than skyscrapers. Jake asks the cloud man where he is, and how to get out of here. The cloud man says that the only way to escape this land of limits is to climb a tall mountain and find a key to the door to the other side, and he should do it by himself. The cloud man gives a map to the door and vanishes slowly like a cloud moving away.

The problem is that Jake is afraid of both traveling alone and heights. He had no other option, Jake had to climb the mountain withstanding the strong climate changes around the mountain. Jake finally reaches the top of the mountain, the top of the mountain is above the clouds. Jake sees something and walks closer, but when he reaches the top there is a door but no key to open it, instead there is a blank book. He starts to feel as if someone pranked him, he feels disappointed because he had to overcome so much to reach this point, and he is on the edge of his tears. Jake is now near the edge of the cliff. Suddenly his fear of heights kicks back in and he can't stand nor open his eyes, he sits down with his eyes closed. Right at that moment Jake feels something on the floor, he opens his eyes and sees a pen on the floor. He picks it up and draws something on the book, and it is a drawing of a key. Nothing happens but in a moment a key appears from the paper. Jake grabs the key with joy. Suddenly he is back in his room.

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janith-mga2022mi6021 · 6 months ago

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New Story:

Jake & The Cloud Man

Suddenly a doorway opens from the floor right below where Jake is sitting, and he falls into a dark room, lights start to turn on one by one from the middle of the room to the corner. Jake looks around him and notices that now he is in a courtroom. He is being judged by an old judge. There is a big list of things, not paying enough attention in the classroom and daydreaming is on the list among other things. And in the end, the judge sentenced him to “the box”.The box is a dark room surrounded by thick walls as they say. Jake starts to have second thoughts about mind wandering and exploring the world as he sees it. He felt stuck and scared in the box.

Suddenly Jake hears a voice from outside the box saying “There is no box“. The kid is confused and asks “What do u mean? And... Who are you? “The walls aren't real, just come out of it.” the voice says. The boy tries to put his hand out first, as the outside voice says the walls aren't real. Jake comes out of the box, He sees a strange person even though that person has a beard that looks like a cloud and most of his body is covered with clouds he looks and sounds like a child. He always had a big smile on his face. “See the walls aren't real,” he said with a smile. Jake looks around and sees machines where identical robotlike students are coming out from them like in a factory and piles of books that are taller than skyscrapers. Jake asks the cloud man where he is, and how to get out of here. The cloud man says that the only way to escape this land of limits is to climb a tall mountain and find the door to the other side, and he should do it by himself. The cloud man gives a map to the door and vanishes slowly like a cloud moving away.

The problem is that Jake is afraid of both traveling alone and heights. He had no other option, Jake had to climb the mountain withstanding the strong climate changes around the mountain. Jake finally reaches the top of the mountain and it is beautiful, the top of the mountain is above the clouds. Jake sees something and walks closer, but when he reaches the top there is a door but no key to open it, instead there is a blank paper and a pen. He starts to feel as if someone pranked him, he feels disappointed because he had to overcome so much to reach this point, and he is on the edge of his tears. Jake is now near the edge of the cliff. Suddenly his fear of heights kicks back in and he can't stand nor open his eyes, he sits down with his eyes closed. Right at that moment Jake feels something on the floor, he opens his eyes and sees a pen on the floor. He picks it up and draws something on the paper, and it is a drawing of a key. In a moment a key appears from the paper. Jake grabs the key with joy. Suddenly he is back in his room.

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dailytatsu · 3 years ago

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Hello! I saw request were open so i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of the Archons and/or the Adepti meeting a God reader who is the God of Chaos and destruction. The reader is not a Archon tho and travels all over Teyvat cuz small bits of destruction were ever they go. They're pretty mischievous and somewhat smug but despite how they act they're actually a good person. They dont mean to cause problems(most of the time anyways) chaos follows them were ever they go. Idk if you have a character limit but if you do please tell me so i wont make a mistake again. And if there is you can just do Zhongli and Xiao. Optionally could you make them a dendro user, there not a lot of dendro content and if not thats fine. I understand. Could you make the reader Gn or Non-binary they/them pronouns please? If not male reader is totally fine. Im so sorry for the long post and I hope you have a good day/night!

Ohmy, it’s my first time just writing headcanons! I’m use to write a lot, so let’s hope I did it right (^ ^' )7

Thanks for the request! ✨

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[HC] God of Chaos! Reader and the Archons + Xiao

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Venti, Shogun Raiden (Ei).

Gn! Reader

I tried doing it with everyone but I’m no still that confident to try writing with some characters ＿|￣|○

Sorry for any mistakes!

Request are open!

Genshin Masterlist

Second part ->

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VENTI

To be honest, he didn't notice your presence at first. He had other concerns on his mind that day to perceive the chaotic (and slightly threatening) aura that Mondstadt was infected with that day.

Barbatos is a person of habit, so he couldn't help but be curious when the crowd in front of him began to look a little agitated instead of seeming to enjoy his lyre and his songs.

But then a series of domino events appeared in front of his very eyes.

The purity of the chaos was such that he felt overwhelmed, even without the white-haired boy around, if it wasn’t Bennett fault, then how was it possible for everything to be ruined in such a short time?

His patience ended when, out of nowhere, the strings of his lyre jumped close to his face as they snapped. Making that awful noise that couldn’t mean nothing good.

Okay, enough, who is messing around in here? No more joking in his nation!

He concentrated a little, a faint but unique presence kept his nerves on edge, as if he was being watched from afar. He moved away from the busy areas and then chased that ephemeral energy to the highest point of the church, where the bells were ringing in an irregular and stressful way.

Then he found you. Snoozing against one of the columns, somewhat tired because the trip you made to reach Mondstadt.

Surprisingly, Barbatos understood you since the first exchange of words. A god of chaos who was also a free spirit, you followed no rules ever written in Teyvat, and you had no plans to apologize for the mess you made.

Both of you were Zhongli’s worst nightmare, but that’s another story.

He managed to through your arrogance and your teasing nature that you, in fact, were a lonely spirit that liked to witness the life from above of everyone.

The difference between teasing someone accidentally and committing a crime was really visible, but he still couldn't help but feel like he should scold you after your mere presence messed up with the guild's baskets full of fish.

But hey! He also enjoy the company! Venti tried to teach you how to enjoy the calm and the whisper of wind, music can also contain chaos, feelings, old stories waiting to be told again, expressions and desire united, in a wonderful piece of-

As you yawned his lyre broke up again. Making clear the message.

Okay, not even God of Freedom and Wind can control chaos. Anyways, what a tragedy, but there’s nothing a simple bard can do, smh.

“Do you like kids, don’t you?” He said once, after a nice day of hearing him sing before your chaos reached his little concert. Again watching everyone from above on the hands of the statue, with your attention caught by some kids playing tag.

“… I don’t know what do you mean.” Once discovered you had no choice but to remain defensive, pretending to be disinterested.

“Heh, you aren’t a good liar.” It may not be the wisest thing to make fun of someone who could destroy the place where you were resting, but Venti was confident that he knew you well enough to know that you were not so explosive. “You know!, I just have some pieces, but I think it’s because they are little walking concentrations of pure and innocent chaos, am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, no at all. But you would never confess something that embarrassing.

This guy wrote a ballad about the days when Mondstadt got immerse with that strike of bad luck. Kind of an apology of not being able to handle the situation.

Now there’s the rumor that says that, every time somebody sings that song, something unlucky will happen in front of you.

The song is cursed.

One night when the moon was shining on the Cider Lake his well tuned ears distinguished a melody that was broken from time to time by the accidents of his performer, distracting him of his way to look for you.

It could be painful to listen to, but Venti could certainly feel the dedication of the one who was playing the imperfect song.

The ballad of the god of chaos, hummed like a lullaby that instead of making you sleep makes you question the events of the day. Wishing for the slightest thing to be different after an exhaustive week of peace and tranquility.

A lonely spirits cursing their existence, sitting in the highest point of a stranger’s palace, where you can reach the sky by only rising your hand.

The next day, Barbatos invited you to drink some wine, this time near Windrise to avoid accidents in the city.

As he almost dropped the bottle when a lot of slimes were attracted by your presence, he confirmed the theory about that the way to spend time with you would not be his personal definition of hanging out.

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ZHONGLI

Okay, there’s only two scenarios that could happened when you set a foot in Liyue.

Old man has a soft spot for you for being a relative young deity.

Or he’s always lecturing you for not having control of your aura and powers.

How u dare bringing chaos to the nation of order? It’s that a death wish?

Jokes aside, you’re not really a threat. And he could sense that after he saw how you tried to avoid having direct contact with the city. Rex Lapis found your silhouette jumping and crossing through the mountains until reaching the fairest point that allowed you to enjoy the view of the streets that were filled with life and light as the sunsets.

He even noticed how you sighed in frustration when a storm started out of nowhere. A rain dedicated just for the arriving of the God of Chaos. Not even bothering of getting shield, you stayed in your place to look at all the people who were getting back to their places.

The rain seemed to stop over your head, for a second was enough to stop you from being cruelly swamped by the very weather you had created. An elegant umbrella covered you, the long awaited surprise you expected from someone as outdated as Morax.

You looked up, and found his expression calm and attentive, watching you. As if he had made a great discovery that he could not believe

“May I have a moment of your time to keep you company? Letting out your sorrows in the middle of a torrential storm is not what I would recommend as way to spend a good day.”

“… What are you talking about? Get in your own business, old man.”

“Well, you should know that a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

Next time you knew was that he was helping you to dry your hair with a towel once you let him guide you to his place.

Zhongli picked you up like a abandoned cat that day. Even if having you near meant to deal with new the roof leaks.

Also kept you away from Hu Tao, if you two ever get along for being partners in crime he would seal himself underground-

For all the time you spend exploring Liyue, there he was. Like a little kid showing his treasures. But also like a worried father looking after his child for them not to stumble making their first steps.

Look at you! Almost crushing those Treasure Hoarders when a bunch of rocks fell down after you jumped at the edge of the cliff.

Wait, no- come back here! You should verify the surroundings and be aware of the weight of your power if you’re going to explore in that bold way. You, chaotic brat.

Another one who believed fervently that your mood was to blame for the constant chaos you caused. He also tried to show you the wonders of peace and calm, teaching you how to prepare tea while listening to the storyteller (also both being a little far away from the rest of them, just in case).

He couldn’t help but sigh when the teapot arm broke as soon as you tried to serve the tea. What a waste, he thought.

You apologized to him, kind of stressed with yourself after you took all the pieces with your bare hands to run away with them. Leaving a confused Zhongli behind.

Next day you were back, with the teapot repaired and just like new.

He let out a lot of thankful words, some flattering and a lot more cheesy things that you never had received before.

With that unexpected affection you couldn’t help but react flustered; then a cat that was chasing a bird jumped through a lot of decorations and merchandise, almost starting a fire as the chained events kept going.

Yeah,, uh, Zhongli got some useful mental notes about you and your chaos that day.

Hey, before you go, want to make a contract? You won’t regret it!

But as the wandering spirit you were you had no problems in reject his offer, but also promising that you would visit Liyue if he wanted you to.

Of course he wanted! But.. maybe next time you should stay in Huaguang Stone Forest instead of roaming near the city,,

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XIAO

Tried to kill you.

I mean, your aura is threatening and full of a destructive energy, how is possible that you weren’t a demon to eradicate??

Sorry, but he had a point.

Your first met was on your way to reach Huaguang Stone Forest along with Zhongli for introduce you with the Adeptus.

Xiao, in the other side, thought that you were about to attack Morax from behind, so he just struck against you. With his polearm near to go through your chest, just stopped because you felt him before.

Lifting your hand at his direction, summoning chaos, this time, on purpose. The wind gained a wrathful nature and the biggest roots that were hiding under his feet rose to caught him.

And when you were about to hit each other Zhongli’s shield appeared just in time to separate both of you. Preventing a real catastrophic event.

Now stop fighting and introduce to each other.

Nice(n’t) to meet u.

What if you tried to awake Azhdaha to bring chaos and destruction to Liyue? What if you wanted to summoned Osial? What if… ?

Zhongli had to confirm and promise to him that those cruel possibilities won’t be a near future for respecting the real reason of your travel.

No matter if he wasn’t comfortable with your presence, it wasn’t his decision to allow you to roam freely, so he had to get use to it.

He immediately knew after hearing about your nature that was your fault that lately there were a lot more demons and monsters. Even his karma was getting more painful than usual.

(If you ever meet Hu Tao, please think twice before doing Xiao a prank)

You both didn’t interact a lot, and being honest, it was better that way.

He hadn’t a single intention of talking with you again until the day you were practicing the song that your Anemo friend taught you. By the other hand, Xiao noticed that the melody had the same nature as the one he once heard before being consumed by the karma.

It wasn’t a flute, but a worn lyre that was still in one piece after weeks of being repaired again and again.

“That song… ”

“Do you know it?” Xiao just nodded, staying in silence, being your very first audience even if you still have a lot to learn about playing a lyre.

It wasn’t as effective as the original, but was still… nice, kind of nostalgic.

Next morning, the Yaksha called for you. Made you stay still in the middle of a plain and then he disappeared of your sight.

He abandoned y- wait, what’s that? Why those monsters has that weird dark aura?

You were about to defend yourself until Xiao appeared back just in time to defeat them.

That day you became his personal bait for demons and monsters. Naturally you attracted chaos, so anyway you were, there will be also something to fight.

I guess this is your way to pay for all the troubles you made for him and his duty, so no complaining about it.

If you ask for a unexpected experience to Ganyu she would said that once she found both of you fighting along against the catastrophe, looking after each other’s back and almost having a perfect synchrony.

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SHOGUN RAIDEN; EI

Also tried to kill you.

Well, the puppet tried to.

And then Ei tried when you had the opportunity of facing her.

But since killing a god just mean the releasing of a lot, pure, energy she couldn’t afford that risk, much less considering your “speciality”.

Who knows what would happen to Inazuma if your vital energy burst across the nation. Just like that old story about Sal Terrae and their goddess.

She just defeated you. Letting you rest and recovering in the midst of the plane of her reality within her mind. Your inert body in the middle of the battlefield as she kept meditating.

When you woke up she ignored your presence, but also denying your complaints about letting you go out back.

In her words, you were a burden, another enemy of eternity. Something as unpredictable as you and your “accidents” couldn’t get along with her utopia.

Ei could banish you from Inazuma, but she knows your type. Stubborn and not accepting the most simple orders to obey.

She knew that you would found a way to be back.

It’s better like this.

And in the hypothetical case of you being freed when she trapped the traveler (kicking you out) and then having a chance to see her again after the end of the war, then things would be somewhat different.

There’s not that much of civilization on some islands, so she allowed you to explore as much as your heart wanted. But if something serious happen, she promised that would end her work in the middle of the sea so your remains never be found.

Okay, message clear. Just do chaos near monsters and bandits, got it,,

Even if she wanted to spend some time with you and telling you some stories about Inazuma and other gods she couldn’t found the right time to call you at her presence.

As the current ruler of Inazuma she was busier than the rest of Archons you have meet. Maybe just some letters now and then like a way to keep a logbook, but not really a face to face talk.

Until she got the opportunity of a day off, just to found you messing around near some ruins. Trying to solve a puzzle before your speciality strikes in. The structure fell down after your fingertips reached the stone.

When the dust dissipated, you discovered her figure judging you from the other side of the remain ruins.

Give her a good reason for not errase you from the map, I dare u.

You felt the worst was about to come when Ei ordered you to follow her after a long sigh. Crossing her arms and starting to walk away from the bunch of old and worn rock.

Plot Twist, she actually invited you to rest under a tree, asking in her serene voice the reason for your journey and your origin. In such a direct way that it seemed more like a sentence than a talk to get to know each other better.

You answered what you could remember and then the silence stayed like the only way of interaction between you two.

Ohno, you know this pattern. Something’s about to happen-

“There is some strange beauty in the chaos, it may be the calm after the storm, but the catastrophe itself is seen as a necessary evil to appreciate the stillness. How much it would last until the lighting hit the valley?”

“So I arrived to keep order between the humans?”

Well yes, but actually no.

“… You see, if there is nothing but order and a lack of problems, mortals are likely to create them on their own. Their minds feels the need to be tested, to prove their worth, so I guess some of your chaos may be part of the history.”

“… then shall we take a walk in Inazuma?” You did not know if you were right, but you thought you saw a faint smile through his lips in the same way that lightning can be seen in the sky.

“I’ll allow it.” She said.

Her only condition was for you not to approach the huge boxes of fireworks down the street.

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lifeofkaze · 2 years ago

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Boy and the Ghost

Spooky Season means Henry Season in this house, and since tonight the veil between the worlds is fragile, the ghosts have their fair bit to share. Happy Halloween! 🎃

The night had brought the fog with it. It lay dense over the coast of Rhode Island, enveloping everything in a thick layer of cold and damp and muffling even the ever-present sound of the nearby sea.

Henry Lovecraft didn’t care as he wandered through the fog, the flickering of his candle disappearing in the darkness after a mere few feet. He wasn’t scared by the impenetrable darkness. There was nothing that could hurt him in the fog.

The mist was so thick that the end of the forest path seemed to come out of nowhere. The black trees parted and gave way to an open space that ended at the cliffs, which fell steeply down to the rough sea. Henry didn’t have to worry about wandering too close to it because he knew exactly where the ground gave way. The cries and sobs of the ones that had fallen told him when to go no further. He heard them as if they were standing right next to him; he always heard.

Henry went as far as he could and sat down in the damp grass, his long legs dangling over the edge. He stared into the fog, trying to block out all the whispers fighting for his attention.

“I didn’t expect you here,” he hears a faint voice behind him. It was of an airy quality, and Henry had to strain his ears as if it was far away. A shimmery figure appeared beside him, floating above the ground, as the pirate Horatio sat down next to him. He didn’t really sit, of course; Horatio was a ghost, and ghosts couldn’t sit.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Henry explained, stubbornly staring straight ahead. Somewhere out there was the lighthouse. Henry hoped the ships passing it would be able to see its light. He didn’t want any more people to end up like Horatio and his crew had some hundred or so years ago. The beach was crowded enough as it was.

“And why is that, young Master Henry?”

Henry kicked his foot against a root protruding from the cliff face. “I just couldn’t.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you, you little landlubber,” Horatio said, tapping his pox-scarred nose with his ghostly finger, where it passed right through him. “You can talk to old Horatio. He won’t tell a soul.”

Henry sighed deeply. “Have you ever been called a liar?”

Horatio puffed out his chest. “You see before you the greatest liar to ever sail the Seven Seas. No one was cunning enough to ever see old Horatio through.”

The familiar feeling of the faintest of whispers passing him by, Henry smiled wryly. “That’s a lie.”

“Alas, I admit it,” Horatio shrugged, “but I hold you no grudge. You are special, Master Henry.”

Henry’s face darkened. “You’re the only one to think so.”

“What makes you say that?” Horatio looked sympathetic. “Has there been trouble with the people in the village again?”

Henry nodded, kicking at his root again. “They were telling stories about the Natives who used to live here. They were all gruesome and gory and completely wrong - all of them - and I told them so.”

The corners of Horatio’s mouth twitched. “Of course you did.”

“They didn’t like it. They called me a liar and a freak and some other awful things. Said my family are outcasts anyway, and if I don’t take care, the ghosts of the ‘savages’ will come and get me and my brother.” Henry snorted. “They would never. All the native ghosts I’ve met were really nice. They’d be so upset seeing what people have turned their myths and legends into.”

“Some folks just don’t know better. They think their truth is the only one.”

“But why don’t they care to listen when someone who knows better tells them? Why are they so ignorant?”

Horatio shrugged. “If they enjoy themselves, why mar them their pastime?”

“Because what they’re doing isn’t storytelling, it’s making things up and taking them away from those they belong to. They have no right calling me a liar. What they do is child’s play, but when I tell them what is right, they just don’t want to see it.”

Horatio cocked a brow. “I’ve been in the world a fair bit longer than you, young Master Henry - I have to admit that I have forgotten how long - but since the beginning of time, people have been telling stories. Even the stories you are telling were once the stories of someone else. Stories belong to no one. They belong only to themselves.”

“But what they’re doing is wrong.”

“It is not your place to say what is wrong or right. If people draw enjoyment from what they do, all you can do is stick to your own compass and strife to sail in deeper waters.”

It took Henry a moment to decipher Horatio’s meaning. When he had, he shook his head. “Where is the point? If anyone can go and tell a story, why bother telling the world the truth?”

“Not everyone possesses your gift, Henry,” Horatio said earnestly. “It is rare, to read this world’s secrets as you do. You shouldn’t hold anyone but yourself to your own standards because if you do, there will be nothing but frustration waiting in the waves ahead.”

Horatio looked out into the fog, a wistful smile forming on his face. “After the Molly’s Wrath sank, learning there were others sharing my fate helped me overcome the bitterness of death. Every time you told me about the people who didn’t make it ashore, I was more accepting of the fact that my body rests in ol’ Davy Jones’ locker.”

His eyes turned to Henry. They protruded a little, probably from having drowned. Henry had never asked Horatio how he had died, but he didn’t need to; he already knew.

“You made a difference for me, Henry, and that is really all you can ask from this world. To make a difference.”

“To you, maybe,” Henry replied. “The only one who appreciates what I’m doing is a dead old pirate.”

Horatio smiled, letting the insult pass him. He knew Henry didn’t mean it.

“Who knows, Master Henry?” he said with a smirk. “There might be more people touched by you than you might think. It’s easy looking only ahead, but you shouldn’t forget to turn around every few miles. See who’s following behind.”

Before Henry could ask what Horatio meant, the ghost had faded away, only an echo of his last words remaining. A moment later, Henry was alerted by the sound of footsteps and a little voice calling for him. Carrying the swinging light of a storm lantern almost as big as his head before him, the small figure of his brother materialised from the dense fog.

“Henry? Henry!” Howard Lovecraft cried, running towards Henry as he spotted him. Henry quickly got up and walked to meet him; Howard didn’t see the world as he did. He wouldn’t know where the cliff ended in this fog.

“What are you doing out here, Howard?” Henry frowned, looking reproachfully at the little boy. “It’s too dangerous to go outside at night.”

“I was looking for you,” Howard said. “I heard you leaving.”

“No reason to go after me.”

“No, but listen!” Howard said, his eyes twinkling in the light of the lantern. “You need to come back home with me. I need to show you something.”

Howard gripped his arm in excitement, but Henry pulled it from him. “You will need to go back on your own. If you can’t find the way, I shall show you and stay outside for a while longer. I don’t feel like going home yet.”

Howard made a disappointed face. “Then you don’t want to hear the story I made up?”

Henry’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “You made up a story?”

“Yes,” Howard nodded proudly, the eagerness for his brother’s approval written plainly on his face. “You gave me the idea.”

“I did?”

“Yes! You always tell the best stories, and I wanted to try it, too. I want to tell my stories, just as you do.” Howard suddenly looked bashful. “Even though they’re probably not as good as yours.”

Henry shook his head. “Don’t say that. You thought it up, and all on your own. That is impressive. What kind of story is it?”

“A scary one.”

“My favourite.”

“No, it’s really scary,” Howard insisted, lowering his voice. “Do you think you can take it, Henry?”

Henry had to stifle a grin as he took the lantern from his little brother and walked him to the path that would lead them back to their mother’s cottage.

“I’m certain I will be scared out of my wits. Let’s hurry now. I believe a story awaits.”

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #henry lovecraft #happy halloween

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etheriaaly · 3 years ago

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Just The Two Of Us [C! Tommyinnit x GN! Reader]

FLUFF TO ANGST (PLATONIC) WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, character death, cursing

Reader pronouns: They/them

A/N: Hi, this is my first DSMP fanfic so uhh I hope u enjoy lmao. There might be grammatical errors so pls do not mind it :D

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ∣ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

—

[Y/N] already lost count of all the pranks and chaos they made with Tommy. They didn't like causing havoc or pulling pranks on people but if Tommy asked them to tag along, they would. Tommy is their best friend after all. Plus, where's the fun in life without a little risk?

[Y/N] was just at their Cottage house, peacefully making the potions that Quackity ordered just hours ago. Since [Y/N] is a skilled witch, it was no shock when they owned a Potions business. Everyone in the SMP server knows about this and they usually come and buy their potions.

They were about to finish the last set of potions that Quackity ordered until they ran out of ingredients. "Dammit." [Y/N] muttered under their breath. They turned around and immediately went to find if they have any stock ingredients in their barrels or chests.

When they saw no stock ingredients, [Y/N] sighed and decided to do some last minute ingredients grinding. It was until they opened the door and saw Tommy standing in front of their house door.

[Y/N] knew that his presence is no good because that motherfucker is grinning ear to ear. They playfully groaned and asked, "What is it this time child?"

"Hey, I told you not to call me a child anymore!" Tommy suddenly protested, feeling insulted but went back to his sly grin and said, "Let's prank Skeppy and Bad."

"That's a horrible idea."

"Come on, bitch. It'll be fun."

And they did come with Tommy. A couple hours had passed and [Y/N] had already forgotten about the ingredients they were gonna get for Quackity's potions. Tommy said that Big Q's order can wait but the prank can't.

It wasn't long after Bad and Skeppy saw the two teenagers doing their little harmless prank on them.

[Y/N] caught sight of the two and immediately tugged on Tommy's shirt. "Fuck, Tommy we gotta go."

Tommy, unfazed and still focused on the prank, said, "Just a little longer."

[Y/N] nudged Tommy's side using her elbows as the two teenagers can now hear Skeppy and Bad's incoherent yelling drawing closer and closer to them.

"RUN!" [Y/N] yelled as they both left the things they used to try to prank BBH and Skeppy.

The two let out a laugh as they ran away. Tommy constantly turned his head back to see if Skeppy and Bad are still after them.

[Y/N] and Tommy continued to run even though Bad and Skeppy stopped coming after them. It wasn't until the two teenagers finally stopped running so that they could catch their breath.

"What now?" [Y/N] gasped, who is still out of breath from both running and laughing at the same time. They looked at Tommy.

Tommy grinned again and then grabbed their arm, "I have something pog to show you."

[Y/N] didn't question Tommy and just let him drag them to a mountain.

Once they have reached the destination, [Y/N] let out a 'wow'. The view is breathtaking and it is very peaceful. The mountain isn't that very far from the SMP but it looks like very few have come across this part.

"So, what do you think?" Tommy asked, looking at the view. The view consists of the calming ocean waves and a peaceful sunsetting with birds passing by.

[Y/N] turned to Tommy and smiled, "This could be our secret spot." They slowly walked towards the edge of the mountain cliff but were immediately stopped by Tommy.

"Oh, [Y/N] wait. Be careful, the edge of the cliff looks really faulty." Tommy warned.

[Y/N] immediately stepped back a little and took note of what Tommy said. But, they were still curious and looked down at the edge of the cliff, only to see the water from below.

If someone would fall from this cliff and took a heavy impact on the water, that person wouldn't survive due to how high the mountain cliff is.

[Y/N] then proposed, "You know, when things are stressful and stuff. We can just go here, sit in silence and look at the view as the wind or the waves takes away our problems for a while."

"Just the two of us." The blonde haired lad said and then they both stood in silence, admiring the view and beauty of the server.

Oh, if only you could turn back in time and relive this memory. If only things are still the same the way it was before.

It's been so long since [Y/N] had fun and peace. Probably so many months since Tommy first showed them their secret mountain hangout area.

[Y/N] currently stood still, gazing at the view that was once calm and peaceful but was now replaced with sounds of flying TNTs, fireworks and screams from the background.

They were in no state of mind as of the moment. They don't even know what to do anymore. A lot has changed ever since the wars, the exilation of Tommy.

[Y/N] sniffed, wiping their tears using their now mangy sleeves caused by the current chaotic event. They continued to stare at the ocean, a potion of poison glistening in their hands.

[Y/N] looked at the Potion of Poison that they were holding and pondered whether to drink it or not.

Maybe it's best to end it once and for all. They don't have anywhere to go anyways. They don't have any friends or family to turn back to since everyone is against them or thought badly of them now.

[Y/N] can't even go back to L’manberg as well since they're now a wanted criminal for breaking the laws and escaping from their house since they're supposed to be on house arrest for the crimes they didn't even do.

They opened the cork of the potion, but they didn't drink it yet. They let their mind wander for a while and process everything that has happened.

Maybe Dream was right. Maybe the people they loved never even cared for them at all. Maybe it was all just a lie. Maybe—

"[Y/N]." A familiar voice that they haven't heard in a while.

It was windy. The cool breeze of air touched their skins. But along with the wind, there are particles of TNT or fireworks dusts.

The [H/C] haired person turned around and saw their best friend for the first time in months.

"Tommy." [Y/N] replied. Their voice were hoarse and dry. "What are you- What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Tommy glared at them.

[Y/N] quietly groaned, closed their eyes for a while and pinched their nose bridge, still holding the potion on their other hand. "So, you believe all that shit?"

"Enough for me to believe the fact you tried to murder Tubbo, burn my invites and team up with Dream."

Tommy added, "Maybe they were right about you. You're Dream's sibling after all."

[Y/N] scoffed and threw their available hand around the air, "He may be my sibling, but we are never alike."

"Why, [Y/N]? Why did you do it?" Tommy asked, hands gripping tighter on his sword. "Did Dream finally get into your head for you to commit these crimes? Or did you just do it because it's in your blood?"

"You don't know a thing that happened," [Y/N] harshly spit back, completely trying to avoid the topic of Dream. "Of course you don't. You were exiled."

Tommy never understood why. Why had they turned like this? He felt rage and betrayal. During his exiled time, Tommy thought that they were gonna be that one person who would try to find him. Comfort him or even send him secret coded messages. But no, he received nothing.

It hurts. Hurts like hell to know your best friend turned their back on everyone. A best friend that he has known for years. A part of him wants to believe they didn't do it but the proofs are enough for him to believe it was really them.

"Well, you really can't blame me can you? You can only blame yourself," [Y/N] said. "This all started because of you and your stupid discs. All you ever care about is the FUCKING DISCS. Wars started, lives were lost, relationships were destroyed, all just because of those discs."

They had never done this before. This was their first time just being angry and shouting at each other. Although this might be new to each other, it was obvious that they have been bottling up their emotions way too long.

"You know what?! Things would be so much better if only you didn't exist." Tommy instantly regretted what he said as soon as he saw a potion glisten from [Y/N]'s hands.

He may not be an expert but he knew well enough of the potions due to him hanging out too much with them before. "What are you doing?" Tommy immediately asked. "Is that a potion of poison?"

"Nothing for you to care about." [Y/N] turned back towards the cliff and stared at the view once again.

"Just the two of us again here, huh?" They said as they pulled the potion towards their mouth, just inches away from the lips now until Tommy hurriedly ran towards [Y/N] and tackled them.

"What are you, an idiot?!" Tommy scolded as they both fought each other while trying not to fall from the cliff. He tried to pull the potion of poison away but it was hard since they kept gripping on it.

It wasn't until Tommy was finally able to remove the potion from [Y/N]'s grasps. He threw the potion far away as it got smashed on the ground.

The two of them were too busy fighting over the potion to notice that one of them is now standing on the faulty edge of the cliff.

[Y/N] was on the edge of the cliff and accidentally backed away from Tommy, thinking there was still space. A loud shriek came out of their mouth.

Tommy immediately ran towards the edge, scrambled on his feet and looked down. Luckily, [Y/N] was able to hold onto the edge but their hands are shaky and tired from all the things that just happened.

"I got you, I got you." Tommy frantically muttered, his breath increasing as to not knowing what will happen next.

[Y/N] grip is slowly failing. Once their hands slipped, Tommy instantly grabbed their hands and tried to pull them back up. But, he too was tired from everything that has been happening.

He tried to pull them up again but it was no use. Stress was adding up even more the moment they both felt the edge of the cliff shaking once more.

Tommy can't do it anymore. So, he let out all the tears he's been trying to fight back.

"It's gonna be okay, Tommy. Let me go."

The blonde haired teen's eyes widened at [Y/N]'s statement. He can't do it. He can't bear to lose another loved one in his life.

"I can't lose you too, [N/N]." Tommy croaked.

The two might've fought just minutes ago but this is now a life and death situation. Problems and angst aside, they still care for each other.

"You already did." Tommy's eyes widened in confusion and sadness. [Y/N] forced their hand to slip from his as Tommy tried to tighten it even more. [Y/N] had a few energies remaining, so they used it to push themselves off the cliff with their foot, making Tommy let go.

For Tommy, everything is going so fast that his mind almost stopped working.

But everything was in slow motion for [Y/N]. The fresh wind was so refreshing, almost making them forget what is currently happening to them.

They closed their eyes, not wanting to see anymore reactions from Tommy. This is their end. This was meant to be.

The moment [Y/N] chose to fall out from Tommy's grip, the blonde panicked and set aside all items he had with him. Without thinking properly, he lunged himself off the cliff. The only goal he had in mind was to save [Y/N] before it's too late.

But he was, indeed, late.

Everyone's communicator beeped. They all took at least some time to look at what the message could be on the communicator. As soon as everyone read the 2 words, their jaws dropped.

[Y/N] drowned.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #platonic tommyinnit x reader #dreamsmp #dsmp #dreamsmp x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x yn #angst #c!tommyinnit #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader angst #platonic #tommy #gn!reader #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit fanfic #etheriaaly

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prof-peach · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Professor! I was wondering if there's a story behind your aversion to water and water type pokemon?

Well yeah kind of. But it is a bit of a long one, so buckle up buttercup.

When I was very young I lived on a farm, a stones throw from the ocean, you could leave the back door, and walk down about 30meters and be at a cliff face that dropped down to rocks and waves that would crashed against the stone cliff face no matter the weather, and though the view was beautiful, it held a lot of danger. I was free to wander, my family were very free-reign with my upbringing, and so I had a lot of time to myself. They had to run a farm, handle a herd of 300 strong Miltank, plus the 15-20 Tauros, numerous gogoat, torchic, some Rapidash, mareep, you know, the works. No time to watch the kid.

Our farm was so far away from other people, I never got to hang with other kids, but I liked that a lot, never was social. So my one friend was Valka, an angry little vulpix who had been entrusted to me, instead of being put down. She had broken into the torchic coop and got herself stuck, after killing many of them. So after fighting for her life and arguing her case to the adults, I was granted her to prove I could reform her, or be trusted? I’m not entierly sure, it was a very long time ago, all the same, we paired up, and eventually bonded through reading and working together. A silent partnership, I watched the chickens, she watched me, it worked for us.

Where I was got nothing but heat, all the time, winter was hot, spring was hot, summer, like the devils butthole, autumn, hot but rainy. The sweet relief from this was swimming in the ocean. Back then I was confident! I’d wade into tide pools, hang around all kinds of water Pokemon, loved it, you could hardly get me out, eventually I got a little older and was trusted to use a reasonably sharp metal stick to go spear hunting for stunfish to eat, and krabby to boil up. It was good, even Val would hop about the rocky ledges to the tide pools, and accompany me far out, almost to the edge of the reef during low tide.

Little did I know the dangers I was right next to, as a child you don’t focus on that, you deal with what’s directly in front of you for the most part. So one day I’m out with Val, fishing as per usual, one of the farm staff was on the beach keeping an eye on me half heartedly, but we wandered round the coast’s harsh corner, into new territory, and out of sight. The rocky ledges were harder to traverse but I was determined, I had plenty of time to check out the new location and get back before the tide changed, so why not right?

One misplaced footing, that’s all it took, I slipped into a pool that was 4-5 meters across, scratched my leg on some dead coral, and sunk, way deeper than any rock pool I was use to wading into. This under water cavern opened up into a space that could possibly hold a Wailord. It was dark, and cold, and the tide seemed to pull me further down. Val being a fire type was adverse to get in, and I am to this day glad she didn’t jump in. With the water dragging me further down, I felt my whole body go cold as the light above got dimmer, and the pressure of being under that far began to hurt my chest, ears feeling like they’d explode under the depth.

The scratch I’d acquired on my way into this watery space led Pokemon to me, first small, a school of chinchou, they seemed passive and quickly left me to sink further. Then a great cluster of Staryu, one even tried to pull me back up to the surface, but they again fled, something moved behind me, made my blood run cold. I swivelled and clocked eyes with a Carvanha, one, then two, no three. I heard the area was riddled with them, but because I stayed in shallow water I never got too close, and seemed to consider myself safe. One got a little closer, but they all fled, something far bigger and way meaner was close by.

I heard water above me shift, something disturbed it, looking up all I could see was a figure, big but coming towards me, and below, another form shifted, the far meaner Pokemon everything had been afraid of. A Sharpedo, white tip on its fins, rows of teeth as it’s mouth hung open, coming at me with unnervingly slow speed. I’m usually pretty chill with Pokemon but this one just didn’t take its eyes off of me, seemed to look through, I was snack sized compared to this thing, and it was very aware of that.

As the air began to run low, and fear set in I struggled and kicked, and squirmed, and did just about everything I could to look bigger and meaner than the Sharpedo, who just kept slowly swimming forward, so calm yet completely focused. It took a bite at me, enough to nick my leg, but I was pulled to one side, by a familiar family Pokemon. My mother had a particularly kind Azumarill, who had noticed torrents of fire being spewed from Val as she sent an alarm to my disappearance above the water I had sunk beneath. The big water mouse Pokemon had dove in from the cliffs at the end of the garden and come to the rescue, just in time too.

We all jetted our the ocean at such speed, landing hard on the coral rocks, scrapes and scratches, covered in cuts from impact, the shadow of that Pokemon that stayed in the deep rock pool vanishing into tunnels. I never ran so fast to get to land, it was far too close for my liking. I did not volenterily get in the water again after that.

In the years ahead while I stayed on the land, occasionally fishermen would be pulled to shore, missing limbs, some not surviving the waters. There was sightings of that same Pokemon, out far in the deeps, past the reef, but occasionally its white tipped fin would be seen in the odd deep pool, waiting for something to fall in.

I couldn’t get back in the water after that, not confidently. It’s not that I don’t like water Pokemon, I love them, most are very kind, well rounded and certainly fun Little dudes, I just can’t give them the care and time I would like, I don’t like to be in the environment they prefer, and getting into a man-made pool with them is about as far as I can go. I use to not even manage that, it’s taken me years to get ahold of my fears, and now I will happily don waders and get into fresh water ponds and lakes if they’re small enough and trustworthy. I do all the pond care on the island, but rivers and the ocean are still a no go for me. I don’t mind a boat ride, I can stomach a wade into water up to my knees, but any further and I lose my cool.

Over the years I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been fully submerged, and none of them have been pleasant. The only time I willing have gone into water is to get Val, who had been thrown in herself. She was afraid, I had to go get her out.

Now days Professor Grey handles mostly all of the ocean based work, and I get a lot of time with his water Pokemon when they come on land, so it’s been easier being around the ocean as a whole, and coming to terms with my weaknesses. Don’t think I’ll rush to get in anytime soon but it’s not something I’d never do at any cost. I know it’s beautiful down there, and it holds some special memories for me, so there will always be a quiet respect for it all, and the things that live in it.

Despite fears I would never condemn Sharpedo as a Pokemon, I have had the joy of working with some lovely individuals, and despite my personal aversion, I know they have a huge part to play in the eco system, and hold great importance to many other species and the way the environment manages itself. They are good, I just got a bit of bad luck with the one I had a close encounter with.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

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