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calitraditionalism · 4 years ago

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Arc Three: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

He had always seen it.

The Runagate was correct about sleep; little Greykit was afraid to shut his eyes because it would come. Every night – or at least almost every night – he’d wake up in a panic, unable to comprehend, unable to explain to his mother or brother. He never wanted to talk about it, anyway. He didn’t even want to talk about it now.

It haunted him, sometimes, when he was awake. He couldn’t do anything correctly the first time. He was always scared. His ribs strained against his skin underneath the fluff of his pelt because even looking at the prey with a white star on its head made him want to vomit. He shivered when tales were told of ghosts and ancestors. Nettlecloud and Mistpaw were supportive and gentle, but they didn’t understand. No one did. No one could.

To occupy his mind and block the fear in a corner where it couldn’t reach his eyes, he dove into his training when he became an apprentice. He wasn’t good at hunting or fighting, but he stayed focused and practiced all he could, to the point of avoiding sleep for more than just the nightmares. It wasn’t until Nettlecloud got sick and a healer named Finchberry dropped by that he found something that genuinely excited him.

In no time, he became a healer’s apprentice, and he knew that it wasn’t a glamorous position. That was fine. The less attention, the better. Besides, he could keep cats alive longer with his skills.

He didn’t know precisely what he was seeing, all this time, but something terrified him about death, far more than any other cat.

Except one.

There was a night, halfway through Greypaw’s apprenticeship, where he finally could not keep his eyes open any longer and fell into an uneasy slumber. He saw it again, and prepared to run, like he always did. But some instinct stopped him, froze him in his tracks. Without knowing why, he looked to his left.

Something thin and dark hid in one of the few places with shadows. It looked like a cat, even if it was a bit too long and nearly see-through.

Greypaw opened his mouth, grateful to have someone to talk to at last, but the dark thing lifted a paw and held it, unseen pads out. Hush. Say nothing.

Greypaw looked around nervously. It wasn’t paying attention to him.

He slowly turned and moved for the shadows, his paws landing on semi-firm ground. His fur prickled with fear, as it always did. But this was much better than it.

You’re a hard one to reach, they whispered, when he had gotten close enough. You who sees through the veil. Seems barely anything can get to you.

“Who are you?” Greypaw whispered back. “Can- can you rescue me? Can you stop this? I see this so often, I just…”

I hold hardly any power here, Greypaw. The silhouette’s vaguely-there eyes shut. It’s a miracle I’m talking to you to begin with. Now hark. I have something to show you.

They turned and started off at a trot, tail beckoning. Greypaw spared another glance backwards – he was still safe – and followed. The shadows swallowed them, a temporary sanctuary. Greypaw sagged with relief at the sensation of cool air and soft ground under his paws.

“Where are we?” Greypaw kept his voice low, in case it could hear still. “Do you know what I’m seeing?”

You see StarClan as it truly is, they said. You see a hungry thing pretending to be your afterlife.

Greypaw stopped. “Then…then it’s eating what I thought it was eating?”

A single nod.

Greypaw knew that he shouldn’t believe a figment of his imagination proclaiming something as bold, as sacrilegious as this, but he knew it was the truth. Thousands of things he had seen throughout his life became clear as the blue sky – the wailing starry cats, the prey dangling lifelessly in front of him, the lighted forms cracking in pieces and being shoved into those bodies, everything. He understood with perfect clarity.

“Aspects help us,” he said, shaking.

They cannot help us as things are. Their words were flippant, but their voice was sympathetic. It falls on us to do something. To spread the word. To save the Clan.

Greypaw still trembled, but he looked up. “You and I?”

You and I, they said, and stepped aside. And her.

Greypaw paused his walking. Ahead of them was the faintest outline of a stone forest…or perhaps just many piles of rocks. The stars were gone, but the moon fought its way through the fog and lit the stone structures just enough for Greypaw to make out another form.

A tall, red-brown molly stood in the center of the structures.

Their eyes met and widened. The molly started walking forward, stiff and alarmed.

This is all I can do, the silhouette said, as if in pain. For now, the rest is up to you. I’ve given you the link. Find-

A roar, a crash of boulders, a groan of trees, and Greypaw awoke.

His mentor, Finchberry, stood above him. She had a paw on his shoulder, like she had shaken him.

“You alright, lad?” she asked, gaunt face unusually concerned.

Greypaw wanted to curse her for waking him up, just as he wasn’t scared for his life for once. He instead blinked blearily at her. “I’m- I’m fine. Was I-?”

“You were twitching all over and mumbling,” Finchberry said. “I know you get the bad dreams, but I’ve never seen you like that. Looked like a seizure, almost.”

Greypaw’s eyes drifted to look at nothing. “Huh.”

He did not sleep again that night, as much as he wanted to. It surprised him, and amused him a little, that for once he looked forward to it.

He only saw that molly two times again – once more as an apprentice, and once after receiving his name and heading to work for the leaders. Both times started and ended the same: the stones, the meeting of eyes, the attempt to move forward, to speak, then being jerked back awake. Greyleaf hated it. He wanted to talk with this cat, whoever she was. He wanted to know someone else - someone physical and real - saw what he saw. He wanted whatever clarity he could get.

It took a while before he got it. That day, he was examining Cedarstar, who complained of a fever, cough, and shivers. Two other leaders sat nearby: Phoebestar of the Fleet and Fernstar of the Clast. They had wanted to stay nearby and observe their comrade in case it was something severe. Greyleaf half-listened to their conversation as they waited for him to be done.

“You don’t intend to replace Viceroyclaw, do you?” Phoebestar was saying. “With one as young as that?”

“Of course not.” Fernstar blinked slowly and dryly. “I just have enough confidence in her that if something happens, she’ll be ready to come here.”

“She’s only been deputy for a year, though-“ started Cedarstar, interrupted by a cough.

“Try not to speak,” Greyleaf said. “Let me see your throat, please.”

Cedarstar lifted her chin up. Greyleaf put his ear to her throat and listened for a wet sound.

“She’s an incredible molly, don’t get me wrong,” Phoebestar said. “But she’s barely out of the nursery. You already promoted her so early, and you haven’t heard from her about anyone that can replace her.”

“She still remains an option,” Fernstar said, in a clipped tone like she didn’t enjoy being questioned by her juniors. “You’ve met her, Cedarstar, haven’t you?”

“When we went down to that pile of stones you call a camp.” Cedarstar grinned.

Greyleaf paused. He quickly remembered himself and lifted his head, now sniffing along her body, ears perked.

“It serves its purpose as well as any other family settlement, and we protect all of you from stray bullies and rogues.” Fernstar made an exaggerated ‘so-there’ nod. “You could appreciate the houses, at least.”

“Just not quite a mountain forest,” Cedarstar replied, and coughed again. “Sorry, Greyleaf.”

It took Greyleaf a moment to realize he was being talked to. He cleared his throat. “You’re fine, ma’am.” He tried to sound natural as he added, “Who is this deputy you’re talking about?”

“She’s called Redheart,” Phoebestar said. “She serves the Clast. About your age, actually.”

Thank goodness that he was facing away from everyone, because his eyes were as round as the moon.

Red. Stones. His age.

But…no. Red- was for a regular ginger cat, not that roan color.

Still…

“Sounds familiar, actually,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Has she been here before? Some ginger tabby?”

“No,” Fernstar said. “You wouldn’t have met her. She’s red-brown and she never leaves the family for long, if she can help it.”

Hope flared in Greyleaf’s chest.

“She’s going to that Coterie, though, isn’t she?” Phoebestar asked, oblivious to Greyleaf’s fur fluffing out a little.

“It’s close by the camp.” Fernstar did not appear to notice either. “She’d be gone for half a day, maximum. That’s as much as she’ll tolerate.”

“Good for her to get out more. Help expand her horizons.”

Fernstar sighed. “StarClan knows she’ll need it in time.”

“Coterie?” Greyleaf winced at how loud his voice sounded in the hollow den. “Where?”

“Near where you lived, actually,” Phoebestar said. She had a knowing look in her eye and Greyleaf prayed under his breath was just something surface-level.

“Huh,” he said. “That’s- that sounds nice.”

Phoebestar seemed a little amused. “I can tell you want to go, Greyleaf.”

Greyleaf held his breath.

“You’d like to see your family, I assume,” Fernstar said.

He quietly let go of the breath. “I would, yes. It’s been a while.” He remembered Cedarstar and hastened, “But if you’re sick, I shouldn’t-“

“We’ve got herbs here,” Cedarstar said. “You can take a couple days off, if you’d like. What plants do I eat for this?”

Greyleaf straightened up, calmer in familiar territory. “Well, feverfew and lavender are my recommendations. Both are good to stop the chills and fever. The cough should subside with that for a bit.” He dreaded the answer, but he still went with the polite question. “If you’re sure you’ll be alright…”

“I will,” Cedarstar promised. “And I know what to take. I’ll be fine until you come back.”

Greyleaf managed to not sigh in relief. “Is Beetlefoot here, then? I’d like to let my family know I’ll be there.”

“He’ll be happy for something to do.” Fernstar smiled a bit. “I’ve heard him muttering under his breath about restlessness and ‘lazing about’.”

“I’ll find him for you,” said Phoebestar, and she got up and trotted off into the tunnels.

Greyleaf continued his work, asking questions and giving advice, his mind totally separate from his body.

Redheart, he thought. It has to be her. Please, aspects, let it be her.

#warrior cats #steorra #chapter #chapter four #arc three #greyleaf #finchberry #phoebestar #fernstar #cedarstar #redheart #the runagate

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itsuki-minamy · 5 years ago

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FOUR SEASONS OF K: “THE FIRST DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

He had a dream like this.

The power of the Slate that was taken from Mihashira's tower was finally released, and the world he had wished for was realized. This is a new stage where everyone has power.

What kind of world Nagare had dreamed of, Sukuna came out with his beloved sickle on his shoulder.

The place where he came out through the escape from the dark secret base was quite noisy.

Everyone is suddenly confused by the power they have obtained. The power of a child is out of control and he is crying.

Sukuna thought that they couldn't do it because they were still babies in this powerful world created by Nagare. Just as newborn babies do not know how to move their bodies, those who have just gained power cannot understand how to handle that power. But that is also a moment. Finally, the baby gets up, speaks words, thinks, and moves. They will eventually learn how to handle their power and survive in this world. Those who cannot survive simply die. That is the new game that Nagare has built in this world.

As he walked, he found a narrow park. There was no play equipment, just a small space with a bench and a drinking fountain.

There was a boy standing there.

Looking at him, Sukuna opened his eyes slightly. He was once Sukuna's best friend.

"Sukuna."

He laughed with a mocking smile.

He was the first friend Sukuna accepted before meeting Nagare. But he and Sukuna parted ways. Back then, both he and Sukuna were dominated by something beyond them. He was dominated, killed his will, abandoned his potential, and lived.

Sukuna escaped from there and he couldn't escape. The path between them was cut off.

"Sukuna, did you do this?"

A green light overflowed from his body, flailing freely, without restraint.

"Incredible, Sukuna."

He was radiating a green light and laughing with a full face. Seeing the smile, Sukuna knew that she was no longer under the control of the others.

It is not surprising. The world created by Nagare is a world where all humans become "kings". They are all the same there.

It is a world where you can expand your potential with your own power, without being ruled by anyone.

Sukuna laughed with a wrinkled face and said.

"You are the only King you have, Hikotaro."

With an itch rising from the bottom of his belly, Sukuna kicked the ground with an impulse.

With one kick, he leaps to the ceiling and runs from ceiling to ceiling, almost flying in the sky.

The breeze on his cheeks makes him feel good. His heart was released, and Sukuna laughed and flew like a free beast.

In a pleasant sweat, Sukuna spread his arms as he climbed onto the roof of the tallest building he could see.

There was a sign of someone standing next to him. It was a style in which black clothes fluttered in the wind.

To Sukuna, who has seen him hiding in the dimly lit basement and was only strapped in a restraint suit in a wheelchair, Nagare's appearance of standing firmly under the blue sky was reflected recently.

"Nagare. I'm glad we made your dream come true together.''

Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he blew his hair and coat in the wind. His body was still full of strength and he was dying to release it.

"The other is the 'King'."

"Affirmative."

"He is a 'King' just like Nagare.''

"Yes."

Nagare was laughing. Sukuna also laughed. He thought it would be fun if he could compete with the current situation, so Sukuna flipped his sickle over and turned around.

Nagare. Do it with me.''

"Good. It's a match."

From Nagare's body, the green stream is emitted coldly. Sukuna also entered the game, by strengthening the output of the sickle that glows in green, he got into an exciting game.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

After seeing his wishes fulfilled, Mishakuji set out on a solo journey.

The days when he shared his style dreams were fun. The stream of dreams that no one else can see is beautiful, and the time spent with their "King" and running around as a member of "Jungle" was really enjoyable.

However, now that his ambition has been realized, he doesn’t want to stay with them because of his passion.

The new world created by Nagare is a world where each person is proud of their own brilliance. It was Yukari's way to survive beautifully in this world of Nagare where all the radiance collides.

It was a beautiful moonlit night.

Yukari was walking along the mountain path, while the golden full moon, which was fading into a faint soft glow, shone in the light.

When he thought it was a memorable road, he found the silhouette of a memorable person at the end of the road.

A person in a haori and hakama and a soft hat. Stand in good posture with his sword on the ground like a cane. Yukari was defeated and squinted at the image of an unforgettable person in the moonlight.

"Ichigen-sama."

Yukari called him to talk about what was important.

The person in front of Yukari, Ichigen Miwa, was illuminated by the moonlight and looked white and bright.

"God has come a long way."

His voice was deep and resonated wonderfully in the night air.

"Yes, I have reached this point when I have been looking for something beautiful. You can be angry when you work for a harmonious world. Ichigen-sama, can you stand in front of me?"

He laughs a little like a breath.

"Did you want me to stand up?"

Ichigen goes to the core so that it can be inserted smoothly. Yukari narrowed his eyes gently.

"Yes. The view I'm looking for can go back to this starting point."

"No, I am just a symbol. I think I am here now as a symbol of the shining moment of your soul that you seek for the future."

He can hear the sound of insects. It is a suitable sound to add color to this beautiful night.

"The beauty of the naked body of life that I can only see when I prepare myself and wield power. Ichigen-sama, I saw the extreme of that moment when I exchanged swords when I left you. I still vividly remember the blood that I felt on the tip of my sword. and the feel of the tip of your sword against my throat.''

Ichigen Miwa looks at Yukari with a kind expression. Yukari smiled back at him as well and drew the sword from his back. A famous sword passed down by Miwa.

"At that time, Ichigen-sama's body was already sick. It might have been brilliant because the life time limit had been set. I also thought that I wanted to get involved. Me too, I'm better than I was back then."

A person who is the seventh king, who is also called the weakest "King", but who possesses an incomparable sword arm and who has a gentle and kind personality who does not like to fight, but who is also terribly scary.

In a word, the sword was drawn while maintaining the soft atmosphere.

It's like being a careless child, holding a sword that looks like a baby, before a careless Miwa.

"It is a sword that crosses the dream of the beginning."

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Kotosaka became a human being.

Sukuna is tall enough to look down easily, and is more compact and cooler than Yukari.

He correctly uses a spoon to eat curry made by Iwafune, and he use chopsticks to eat fried chicken.

"Kotosaka has become a human. He is a modified clan bird. I am truly impressed."

Nagare said, and patted Kotosaka on his head to praise him.

Kotosaka was proud to work as a stylish "guide". He can freely fly anywhere and show everything through his own eyes in an immovable way.

However, Nagare who fulfilled his dream was free because he was no longer tied to anything. Instead of looking through Kotosaka's eyes, he can go see whatever he want to see with Kotosaka.

Kotosaka invited Nagare to see the outside world.

"Kotosaka, will you take me?"

Kotosaka was very nervous.

Kotosaka became a person, but was originally a good bird. There is no such thing as flying.

A ceiling door opened and light shone through a dimly lit secret base. The blue sky was visible, and Kotosaka took the current hand and flew into the blue sky.

Kotosaka and Nagare were flying in the air, holding their two hands together. Reaching out and gliding on the updraft.

Feeling the warm sunlight on their back and the cool breeze on their face and belly, they fly in a wide sky. Downstairs, there was a little energetic human activity.

"Kotosaka was always looking at this kind of scenery."

Nagare told Kotosaka.

Nagare was always looking at the scene reflected in Kotosaka's eyes. However, Kotosaka wanted to teach him that the scenery seen while feeling the wind and the temperature and the cut of the air is the best.

As he looked at the ground from the sky, he spoke about everything that Kotosaka had seen and known.

Nagare listened to everything Kotosaka spoke with great interest.

"Kotosaka knows a lot."

Kotosaka is proud of his compliments as if he knows everything about the world.

“After all, a bird that can fly anywhere is good. I will also try to become a bird sometime.''

Nagare said. It seemed like a very good idea.

When he thought that Nagare's body glowed green, Nagare turned into a large bird in the next moment. Powerfully flap its wings and fly in front of Kotosaka. Kotosaka was happy.

He thought it would be nice to be a human, but he thought it would be very good to fly with Nagare, so when Kotosaka returned to his parrot form, he flaunted his wings alongside Nagare.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Nagare was at sea at night.

It is a place where Nagare once lost everything and became brand new.

At the bottom of the sea in southern Kanto, many lives that were lost a dozen years ago sleep.

Nagare's dream came true. Everyone has power, and even in the event of a tragedy, each can resist with their own power.

Still, what was lost never returns.

Nagare is not sorry. No matter what the miserable past is, the past is what makes it the present.

He does not cry, but he is not without emotion. Nagare was looking out to sea, thinking about the lives of his family, friends and many who died here.

If he turns around, he can see the light shining through the darkness of the night. The humans who have gained power are the lights that are exercising their power.

It can be said that those lights were created because a life was lost in this wolf-dark sea.

Nagare continues to gaze out to sea.

The landscape, which was dark and black, and the boundary between sky and sea was unknown, gradually began to turn white before Nagare looked at it. Light is emitted and the horizon shines, indicating the limit between the sky and the sea. The sky slowly turns blue.

Finally, the sun poked its head out, burning the horizon red. The sea that sank black reflected the sunlight, creating a path of light on the surface of the sea.

He thought it was a scene that symbolized the beginning of the new stage and wondered if this was the first sunrise of the year.

After thinking, Nagare realized that this was a dream.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Iwafune was standing in the kitchen at the secret “Jungle” base as usual, and was making ozoni.

Boiled minced radish, flower-shaped carrots, small shiitake mushrooms, bite-sized whole chicken thighs in bonito soup, and a dash of light soy sauce and sake. He put the baked rice cake in a bowl, poured in the boiled ingredients and the soup broth, and garnished with the spinach and red and white kamaboko that had been boiled separately. Finally, he put a citron and a leaf.

"Well, it's done."

He served the entire ozoni bowl to a customer who sat in front of the Chabudai.

The guest was a mysterious-eyed boy with pale golden hair down his back. Younger than Sukuna, a boy with an innocent face, but praises the atmosphere that seems to be much older than Iwafune.

A strange boy. However, it was a boy who felt like he knew him for some reason.

He silently looked at the bowl placed in front of him, raised his eyes, and looked at Iwafune's face.

"Only you don't understand."

The boy said in a transparent voice that does not reflect his emotions.

Iwafune tilts his neck as he opens the beer handle.

"I do not understand?"

"Isn't there a scene where you pray that you want to be like this?"

Iwafune mused with a glass of beer.

A scene to pray. There used to be such a thing. Iwafune was trying to create an ideal home in his world, a place where everyone could be saved.

"Cathedral". A clan that was headed with a "King" when Iwafune Tenkei was Otori Seigo. The way to pray when he was still dreaming.

He may wonder if he should pray for a scene that was not missed. Once upon a time, all the people who followed Seigo in "Cathedral" died. There were countless nights of regret and hope for a world free from that tragedy.

However, Otori Seigo who was praying is no longer there.

Here is Iwafune Tenkei. Iwafune doesn't pray. Look. The path that a "King" has protected and raised.

Iwafune smiled and took another sip of beer.

"In return, it's okay if I can see them."

The boy's mysterious eyes stare straight at Iwafune. It was a bit awkward looking into his eyes, which made him see through it all, Iwabune's hips ached.

"Well, yes."

Iwafune pointed to the butt of the beer can on the ozoni bowl in front of the boy.

"They ate the ozoni I made and laughed deliciously, that's enough."

The child's eyes rest on the bowl. He wondered if he was interested or not, just the big, round, wide eyes that stare over low heat and gently lift the bowl.

The boy's small lips are glued to the edge of the bowl.

The slightly tilted bowl was placed on a table and the boy said...

"Your prayers will come true."

He didn't really understand, but he wishes he could see what the boy said.

++++++++++

"I had a strange dream."

Yukari said, as he sat around the kotatsu.

"I had a good first dream. The Slate plan was launched in full power, and the dream plan went the way I wanted it!"

Sukuna is happy. Oh, and Yukari raised his eyebrows.

"It's strange. I dreamed that same part. It was a dream after Nagare-chan's wish was fulfilled."

"Eh? So what were you doing Yukari?"

"Secret."

"Wow!"

When he heard the conversation between Mishakuji and Sukuna, Nagare opened his eyes.

"I had a similar dream."

"Really?"

"Yes. However, I woke up early because I realized it was a dream in my dream."

"Isn't it like we all have a similar first dream, or is it good for the start of the New Year?"

Kotosaka squawked to match the playful Sukuna. Screaming loudly, flying through the secret room at the base. The wings fluttered with a high tension wingbeat.

"Hey, Kotosaka-chan. Did you have a dream too?"

"Dream! Dream!"

"Well, whatever dream Kotosaka had, it seems good."

"Kuwatsu!"

While trying to fight Kotosaka, who rests on his head and raises his claws, Sukuna looks at Iwafune.

"Iwa-san? Did you see anything in your first dream?"

Iwafune was standing in the kitchen preparing ozoni.

"Hmm? It was a dream about making ozoni."

"What is that?"

"So, I woke up and actually became a varied person, so I wonder if it's a true dream."

"That is not the case if you are dreaming a dream. If you dream it, it is our dream!"

"What? Isn't it tasty, Sukuna?"

"It is!"

Iwafune laughed lightly at Sukuna, who had sharp lips.

Immediately next to the room in the secret base is the Slate stolen from the Mihashira Tower on Christmas Eve. The Slate is unsealed, and although it is not yet fully operational, it was strengthening its power day by day.

Yukari looks at the Slate and squints his eyes.

“Well, freeing the Slate is a matter of time. If that dream goes well, will it turn into a real dream?''

"So is!"

"Yes."

"Kuwa!"

"In the first place, I could have had such a dream because I slept very close to the Slate."

While listening to the animated voice behind him, Iwafune watches the heat of the pot and the baking of the rice cake.

"It's done."

He gave the entire ozoni bowl to his friends in the kotatsu.

With a happy voice they say together, "Itadakimasu."

"After all, I like Iwa-san's miso soup."

Yes, it is delicious. "

"Delicious!"

While listening to the voices of everyone who was happy with the ozoni, Iwafune somehow chided the Yukari words in his head.

(Maybe I had a dream like that because I slept very close to the Slate.)

The inside of his chest was soft, Iwafune looked at the Slate with his chopsticks raised.

The Slate casts a dim light into the dark underground space. Looking at the light, Iwafune somehow remembered the pale blond boy who appeared in his dream.

"…No way."

Shake his head slightly to get rid of strange dreams, Iwafune puts his mouth on ozoni.

While chewing the mochi he said, "It's delicious." and laughs.

#k #k project #K stories #k fan clan #iwafune tenkei #mishakuji yukari #gojou sukuna #hisui nagare #kotosaka #jungle #Dresden Slate

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 5 years ago

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The Dove and Her Hound - CH. TwentyOne

Title: The Truce

Words: 2,309

Warnings: Some strong language

Taglist: @tonbluemchen @affection-rabbit @art-flirt @10morgan10 @thatting @iwontdance-dontaskme

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

It had been a long voyage to King’s Landing. Jon and Daenerys were apparently now an item and you had learned something about you. Tyrion had successfully convinced Jaime to talk to Cersei and there was a temporary truce. You and Daenerys still weren’t getting along, but for Jon’s sake you were civil. Now you were walking along with Tyrion, Jon, and Sandor. When your group of people met another, you saw some familiar faces. Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne.

“Welcome, my lord’s. And my lady’s. Some of your friends arrived before you. I’ve been sent to escort you all to the meeting,” the man leading the other group said.

Sandor’s grip on your hand tightened and you looked to see where he was looking. His eyes were glued to Brienne and hers to him. She looked at you after and bowed slightly. You nodded your head back and she looked surprised. Following her gaze, it lead to your intertwined hands. You blushed lightly and a goofy smile found its way to your face. Her eyes still held surprise, but understanding.

The Dothraki protecting your group went and walked ahead with some of the Lannister men Cersei had sent with Brienne and Podrick. You were still with Sandor when everyone else started moving. Tyrion and Podrick stopped for a second to chat and he bowed his head as you walked past.

“What’s in the box?” A Lannister soldier asked Sandor.

“Fuck off,” he replied. The soldier backed off and Brienne took his place.

“Thought you died,” she said.

“Not yet. Came pretty close.” You stiffened slightly and held onto Sandor tighter.

“I was only trying to protect them.”

“You and me both.”

After a moment, Brienne spoke again. “She’s alive. Arya.”

“What?” You said.

“Where?” Sandor asked.

“Winterfell. She’s with Sansa and Bran.”

“Who’s protecting her if you’re here?”

“She can take care of herself. The only one that needs protecting is the one who gets in her way.” You let out a laugh at that.

“It won’t be me,” Sandor said. “I have too much to protect here.”

“Hey! I can take care of myself, thank you very much!”

“I know you can, but it’s not just you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” You and Sandor looked at each other. He motioned to go ahead and you looked at Brienne with a blinding smile.

“I’m with child!”

Brienne was shocked and gave her congratulations. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face and if you looked at Sandor you could see the happiness in his eyes. Soon after you dropped that bomb on Brienne, you had arrived at the Dragonpit. You waited for Sandor to finish hitching his horse and cart then walked with him to the pit. Cersei wasn’t there when you were escorted in. It made you uncomfortable. The place you were in was the perfect place for an ambush.

“I don’t like this,” you said lowly to Jon. Your hands were splayed protectively over your stomach. You were only four months pregnant, but you couldn’t help it.

“Neither do I. Please stay close to me or Sandor.” Jon looked at you, worry in his eyes. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I promise.”

Hearing clinking, you looked towards the entrance. Cersei, Jaime, the Mountain, and two men you’ve never seen before were approaching. They took their seats and after they sat down you sat next to Jon. Sandor was standing behind you. He stepped out in front of everyone and approached his brother. You straitened up slightly and watched with hesitant eyes.

“Remember me? Yeah you do. You’re even fucking uglier than I am now. What did they do to you? Doesn’t matter. That’s not how it ends for you, brother. You know who’s coming for you. You’ve always known.” After his little monologue, he went to go get the Wight.

“Where is she?” Cersei asked Tyrion.

“She’ll be here soon.”

“Didn’t travel with you?”

“No.”

Cersei looked angry. She looked at Jaime. He looked back when the sound of wings flapping echoed through the air. He got up in a panic as the shadows of her dragons covered the Pit. They were beautiful yet they still filled you full of fear.

Drogon roared and made his way down the side of the Pit. You could see the uneasiness in all of the Lannister men and in Cersei and Jaime. Daenerys got off of her dragon and made her way to her seat. Drogon took off into the sky to join his remaining brother.

“We’ve been here for some time,” Cersei said, venom lacing her voice.

“My apologies.” You could feel the tension in the air. Tyrion got up and stood in the center of the platform.

“We are a group of people who do not like one another. We have suffered at each other’s hands. We have lost people we love at each other’s hands. If all we wanted was more of the same, there would be no need for this meeting. We are capable of waging war without meeting face to face.”

“So instead we should settle our differences and live together in harmony for the rest of our days,” Cersei said.

“We all know that will never happen.”

“Then why are we here?”

Jon stood up and joined Tyrion.

“This isn’t about living in harmony. It’s just about living,” he spoke. “The same thing is coming for all of us. A general you can’t negotiate with, an army that doesn’t leave corpses behind on the battlefield. Lord Tyrion tells me that a million people live in this city. There’s about to be a million more soldiers in the army of the Dead.”

“I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement.” Cersei seemed to think this was a joke.

“This is serious. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.”

“I don’t think it’s serious at all. I think it’s all a bad joke.” She looked towards Daenerys. “If my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you want a truce?”

“Yes,” Daenerys said. “That’s all.”

“That’s all? Pull back my armies and stand down while you go on your monster hunt. Or while you expand your position. Hard for me to know which it is with my armies pulled back. Until you turn back and march onto my capital with four times the men.”

“Your capital will be safe until the Northern threat is dealt with. You have my word.”

“The word of a would-be usurper.”

“There is no conversation that can erase the last fifty years. We have something to show you,” Tyrion interjected.

Sandor came up the steps with the Wight’s box on his back. He set it down and unlatched it, everyone who knew what was in the box was on high alert. When Sandor pushed the lid off of the box and stepped back quickly, your heart beat rapidly. Nothing happened and Sandor kicked the box. The Wight started running towards Cersei and you could see the panic in her eyes. The Wight was stopped before it reached her and Jaime stood up from his seat.

When it saw Sandor, it rushed towards him. Pulling out his sword, he cut it in half. It still tried to get to him despite not having legs and when it reached out, Sandor cut his arm off. After that, Sandor took his place behind you. Jon took the arm from one of Cersei’s men and Ser Davos lit the torch in his hand.

“We can destroy them with fire.” He lit the arm on fire and the Wight screamed in agony. “And we can destroy them with Dragonglass. If we don’t win this fight, then this is the fate of every person in the world.”

Jon stabbed the Wight with his Dragonglass dagger and it fell to the floor, dead for good.

“This is the only war that matters. The Great War. And it is here.”

“I didn’t believe it until I saw them. I saw them all,” Daenerys said.

“How many?” Jaime asked her.

“Hundred thousand at least.”

“Can they swim?” Euron said, twirling the Wights hair around his fingers.

“No,” you answered.

“Good. I’m taking the Iron Fleet back to the Iron Islands.”

“What are you talking about?” Cersei said tersely.

“I’ve been around the world. Seen things you couldn’t imagine. And this, this is the only thing that terrifies me,” Euron said to Cersei. To Daenerys he said, “I’m going back to my island. You should go back to yours. When Winter’s over, we’ll be the only ones left alive.”

Daenerys looked unimpressed and just looked at Euron as he walked away.

“He’s right to be afraid and a coward to run. If those things come to us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered and lost would’ve been for nothing.” Cersei looked at Daenerys. “The Crown accepts your truce. Until the Dead are defeated, they are the true enemy.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and your frame became less rigid. Then Cersei kept talking.

“In return, the King in the North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take up arms against the Lannisters, he will not choose sides.”

“Just the King in the North? Not me,” Dany said.

“I would never ask that of you. You wouldn’t agree to it and if you did I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark’s son. I know he will be true to his word.”

Jon looked at you for a moment, then looked at Dany. The both of you told him with your eyes to say yes. Please say yes.

“I am true to my word. Or I try to be. That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two Queens. And I’ve already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys, of House Targaryen.”

You went tense again, and Sandor put his hand on your shoulder. Everyone was looking at each other, waiting for someone to speak. You knew that Jon had said the wrong thing and now nothing good would come of it.

“Then there is nothing left to discuss,” Cersei said as she stood. “The Dead will come North first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you.”

Jon looked as if he wanted to speak to Cersei as she passed him by, but he could not find words. They all walked by him and Brienne was the only one to talk.

“Ser Jaime,” she said, going after him. You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation and you looked to Sandor. He said nothing and only took your hand.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Ser Davos said when Cersei was gone.

“I’m grateful for your loyalty, but my dragon died so that we could be here,” Daenerys said. “If it’s all for nothing, then he died for nothing.”

“I know.”

“I’m pleased you bent the knee to our Queen,” Tyrion said. “But have you considered learning how to lie every now and then?”

“I’m not gonna swear an oath I cannot uphold. Talk about my father if you want. Tell me that’s the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers only better and better lies. Lies won’t help us in this fight.”

“You’re right,” you said to Jon. “But the more immediate problem is that we’re fucked. Are there any ideas of how to change that?”

“Only one. Everyone stays here, and I go and talk to my sister.”

“She’ll kill you before you can say a word,” you said.

“I know. But we have to try something.”

---

While Tyrion went to try to talk to Cersei, you sat with Sandor. You were growing restless with the waiting and all you wanted to do was get out of King’s Landing. You had always hated this shit city and never wanted to go back. But here you were, trying to get an army from your most hated enemy. You didn’t think that Tyrion would be able to talk some sense into his sister and that would most likely lead to the death of everyone here.

“It’ll be alright, Dove,” Sandor said to you. You looked up at him and smiled faintly.

“I don’t know about that. You know Cersei. If she doesn’t get what she wants she’s going to kill us all.” Sandor sighed and pulled you onto his lap. He held you close and put his hands on your stomach.

“I won’t let that happen. She will not touch you or our babe.”

You put your hands over his and rested your head in the crook of his neck. You were both silent until Tyrion showed up. You got up out of Sandor’s lap and stood. When Sandor saw Cersei walking back behind Tyrion, he stood as well and put a protective hand on the small of your back.

“My armies will not stand down. I will not pull them back to the capital. I will march them North to fight alongside you in the Great War. And when the Great War is over, perhaps you will remember that I chose to help, with no promises or assurances from any of you. Call our Banners, all of them.”

You were dumbfounded, but relieved that Tyrion was able to actually talk to Cersei. She left just as quickly as she came and after a few minutes, you followed. Sandor was by your side, still touching your back and didn’t let go until you were safely on the ship. It was time to sail back to Dragonstone and get ready for war.

#sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #x reader #xreader #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #Jon Snow #stark reader #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfiction #got fanfic #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfic

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aenwoedbeannaa · 5 years ago

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Stone Hearts | Geralt x Reader | Parts I - III

Summary: A/U(ish). When fate landed you at Kaer Morhen, you were mostly just happy to have meals to eat and a place to sleep. But, as it turns out, fate may have led you to much, much more. (Basically, you and Geralt are students at Kaer Morhen together. These stories chronicle your lives together.)

Word Count: 7k+

Warnings: Violence, smut, the usual.

A/N: I originally planned on posting this as a series of short stories all at once, but as it is such a long story, I decided I’d split it up into groups of stories instead. So, this one is Part I, II, and III. Let me know what you think – and thank you, as always, for taking time to read my work 😊.

Thank you so much to @jesseswartzwelder for the request/amazing idea!

If you enjoy my work, consider reblogging this post following me for more Witcher fics here and on my personal/original writing blog here. You can also check out my masterlist!

Part I

The sun is hot, bearing down on the crowded courtyard and making you sweat through your leathers even more than you usually do. Still, you refuse to give any inkling of the fact that your blood is absolutely boiling, like your body is burning itself away. You know that it is more than the hot sun—you’ve started taking a new elixir, and ever since, you’ve been aching with fever. One moment, you are burning out of your skin, the next, you are shivering and sweating at the same time.

Your feet move of their own accord, purely out of instinct, as you dodge and parry, pirouette and deflect. You try as hard as you possibly can to breathe deeply and slowly, so as not to exert yourself even more. And yet, the sharp sound of dulled iron striking dulled iron reverberates you your head, loud enough to make you want to flinch.

But flinching is not an option. Not with Geralt, anyways. You don’t like losing, especially to your de facto partner. As usual, the two of you are the last pair left sparring, the others standing around drinking deeply from waterskins or laying on unclaimed ground nursing whatever wounds they incurred over the course of the day. You wish you were one of them, but only a little. If you are honest, you love being the center of attention; you love being one of Kaer Morhen’s Golden Children. You thrive one it.

“Getting tired, Witcher?” you quip, avoiding a slash of his blade with a rolling dodge, landing on your feet in a flash and only just missing him with your next attack.

“Not a chance, Witcher Girl,” he responds with a parry leading to an attack of his own. You manage to block him with the flat of your blade, but you can tell that you are off – not enough for an ordinary eye to see, but Geralt does not have the eyes of an ordinary man.

He’s got you backed up nearly to the wall, leaving you less room than you’d like, and distracting you enough with his smile, a dangerous flash of white, that you nearly lose your footing. But after another turn and other quick flurry of attacks and counterattacks, you do lose your footing – but it has nothing to do with Geralt’s smile and everything to do with a sudden blinding pain that seems to start in your head and travel down your body at lighting speed. You crumple to the ground.

Geralt drops his sword before you even hit the dirt, rushing to you side and placing a calloused hand gently on your shoulder, speaking urgently, “Y/N,” he says as he gently pushes against your shoulder to turn you over, “Are you alright? What happened?” What has him so worried is not that you fell – the two of you never went easy on one another, and each took your share of tumbles. No, he is worried because you had been steady on two feet one moment and wincing, dropping your sword, and thudding to the ground after it the next.

You have, of course, told him nothing about the extra elixir. You’d tried so many at this point that you’d grown into a sense of security, like something that couldn’t possibly harm you. After all, the really deadly shit was saved for the Trial of the Grasses – but even then, the strong ones usually made it, and you are one of the strong ones. But, no matter how many times you tell him not to worry – he always, always does. The same way that you worry about him every time you learn they’re giving him new mysterious concoctions to try.

He is you closest friend, and he has been since the moment you walked onto the grounds of Kaer Morhen and he punched Eskel in the face for lobbing an ill-timed joke at the very timid new arrival and making you cry.

Vizimir was not happy with any of you, and all three of you managed to earn yourselves extra cleaning duties that week. Geralt for punching Eskel, Eskel for making ‘unnecessary remarks,’ and you for crying. Coincidentally, that week was also the week that the three of you began a friendship that spanned even to this day.

You blink up at him, unable to speak, though you want to. Something is wrong, you want to say, Get Vizimir. But, try as you might, you aren’t able to make your mouth form the words. Instead, you just stare up at him with wide eyes. His brown curls are stuck to his brow with sweat, and his eyes are searching your eyes for an answer you can’t give him. You are also vaguely aware of other students abandoning their carefully staked out plots of grass to come and see what the fuss is about.

The only other girl, Estra of Ard Caraigh, chews her lip nervously as she looks on, though you can’t see her. The two of you aren’t particularly close, mostly because she is two years older, so you are surprised when you hear her voice from the growing crowd of onlookers, “They gave you that elixir, didn’t they? The one that’s to make sure you can train every day of the month?”

In your bleary half-consciousness, you see a flash of long auburn hair as she rushes to your side, pressing a hand to your forehead. Her face blanches and she turns back to shout to no one in particular, “Get Vizimir, NOW.”

You try once more to make some sort of sound, but all that comes out is a choked sob. You had not cried since your first day here, and the fact that tears were streaming down your face seemingly of their own accord was mortifying. The only thing that kept your from screaming in pain was Geralt as he took your hand in his own and held on tightly, leaning down to whisper that it was all going to be ok in a voice surprisingly calm given the red-hot fire burning in his eyes and his tightly clenched jaw.

Part II

Your fingers tap the glass impatiently as you peer out the window, checking for signs of life on the road that winds from the gate of the Keep out into the forests surrounding Kaer Morhen, twisting its way through the wilderness surrounding the Snow Pine Mountains. If you’ve calculated correctly, Geralt should be returning today. He left nearly two weeks before with one of the Witchers to help with a contract on a Drowner infestation plaguing a nearby town on the banks of some manmade lake.

Leave it to Kaedwen. Perhaps the people of Kaedwen had grown too comfortable. With Witchers nearby, there wasn’t much to fear from monsters, was there?

This particular excursion was his reward for being the first to return from the Trial of the Medallion – the chance to muck around in the swamps for a few days, cutting down drowners at thirty crowns a head.

Thirty crowns a head.

You still remember a time when thirty crowns seemed an unobtainable amount of money; money that could have lasted your family near a month if it had to. To think that once this was all over, you would be able to fulfill contracts earning multiples of that for each monster slain. Being considered at once a poor victim of a stolen childhood and a mutant freak who had no place existing was a small price to pay for such a steady income.

“Show me a lake, and I’ll show you the drowners,” as Vizimir would say.

Pulling yourself back from the objectively horrifying daydreams of hacking drowners to shreds in return for a sack full of coin, you resume your vigilance.

Accounting for the four days ride from Kaer Morhen, maybe five if any monsters appeared on The Path, and then three days at most to deal with the drowners, and then another four to five days ride back accounting for the supplies they’d be carrying back from the village, he should be arriving back today. Unless of course… No. You cannot allow yourself to even consider the possibility that anything had gone wrong.

You tell yourself you that the nervous energy that has you buzzing is simply born of boredom, or maybe out of frustration that you’d have to spar with Eskel today. After nearly two weeks pouring over books, Vizimir had finally determined that it was time to get back to swordsmanship and, most importantly, sparring. It was about the only thing that broke the general dullness of school.

And without Geralt, you tell yourself, sparring will be just as dull as the bloody books. You determine that this is at least a half-truth. Geralt was the only sparring partner quite at your level. So, it went without saying that sparring with anyone else was dull, mostly a waste of time. In your opinion, fighting an easy fight is not fun. And that’s not even your ego talking; it is purely factual.

And a bit of ego.

And then there is the separate issue; the fact that you hadn’t exactly realized – or had at least pretended not to realize – just how much time you spent with Geralt until he was gone. You’d been happy for him when he won the Trial of the Medallion, of course, but you hadn’t been quite as thrilled when you learned what the prize was. Sure – it was a chance for him to escape form the stone fortress for two weeks, a chance to get out and see the world. But drowners, no matter how easy to kill, could always be dangerous. Or maybe you were just upset that the second place winner – that just so happened to be you – didn’t get to go along as well. You’d finished only second behind him; it seemed unfair.

Despite its unfairness, it was reality. So, instead of out hunting monsters, you were stuck here while time dragged on at an excruciating crawl.

You’ve got other students with whom to pass the time, but to be honest, exploring the grounds of Kaer Morhen Of course, you still have your other fellow students to pass the time with – which you do – but it’s not the same. There is a bond between the two of you that far surpasses your bond with anyone else. No matter how adamantly you try to ignore it, there’s just no way around it.

You sigh in frustration and turn away from the window; you have too many things to do, regardless of how absolutely tedious everything is. Studying with Vizimir, of course. And you’ve got to spar today. At least that is somewhat interesting – even if none of the other students can quite match you; with the exception of Geralt. It is a convenient way for you to explain away any feelings. Perhaps sparring with people who cannot keep up is just boring. As much as you enjoy winning, there’s no excitement winning against people you could probably best in your sleep.

You pull on your last bits of armor – a belt with a small sheath for your dagger, and of course your leather jerkin. Your dulled iron and silver are slung over your back. You won’t receive your silver – a real silver sword – until you pass the trial of the grasses. It would, of course, be a waste to supply every one of Kaer Morhen’s students with new silver swords, considering the unfortunate reality that a majority would never need one.

Gods, you hope you need one.

You move silently through the ancient hallways, bracing yourself for the certain boredom that will greet you in the keep’s library. It is a large room full of old books, most of which are yellowed with age and feel as if they might fall apart beneath your fingertips. Vizimir explains that new books are not necessary, because monsters never change.

“Wonderful of you to finally join us, Little Vampire,” Vizimir says as you push open the wooden door to see several students sitting at the old tables all in various states of half-sleep. You just shrug in response and make your way to an empty chair. You earned the nickname Little Vampire after, during the week you spent delirious with fever, you apparently bit Vizimir’s hand hard enough to leave a scar when he tried to force a potion down your throat.

“Probably off waiting for Geralt,” you hear Stefan say under his breath to Eskel, who is sitting in the chair next to him. You pretend not to hear him; you’ve given up on trying to explain your relationship with Geralt to your peers. And anyway, it would be impossible to explain even if you tried – you cannot even explain it to yourself.

But then, you hear Eskel mutter, even quieter – “He probably won’t be back until tomorrow. Off spending that hard-earned coin the right way.” You know that it shouldn’t bother you; Geralt can do whatever he’d like. And what you’d learned from hearing Eskel and the others when they spoke about their time outside of Kaer Morhen, there was a very specific way they tended to celebrate. It wasn’t your place to be upset about it. And, yet, here you were.

Whatever, you tell yourself. He’s only following the Code. That fucking Code.

* * *

“Fucking hell,” Eskel spits, pushing himself up from the ground, heavily favoring his left ankle. You smirk, sheathing the blunted blade. You don’t need to say anything – knocking him out of the fight as quickly as you had spoke volumes.

“And all this time, we thought Geralt was just letting her win, eh, Eskel?”

You turn and narrow your eyes at Stefan, their dark amber burning like coals as you bore into him. You aren’t daft – you are fully aware of this particular rumor, as ridiculous of a rumor as it is.

“Would have been quite the charade to have been pulling off all these years.”

You have a hard time suppressing your smile at the familiar baritone, but you turn around with witcherlike reflexes regardless. And Code be damned, for all the elixirs they’d given you, emotion flooded you. You refuse to call it love; to be a Witcher and admit to such a feeling would be laughable. But you will call it joy – joy at seeing your absolute closest friend in the world after all this time.

A whole two weeks.

Not wanting to make yourself, and Geralt by extension, the butt of jokes for the next month, you stop yourself from barreling toward him and throwing your arms around his neck like you want to, you settle for smiling instead.

“Finally,” you drawl, “A real challenge.”

Your friend smirks, arms crossing over his chest.

“I’ve just returned, and the first thing you want to do is cross swords?” he fakes offense.

“Of course,” you retort, “This is Kaer Morhen, after all.”

“Damn,” Geralt responds, “Thought it was Ban Aard.”

Several others who had abandoned their activities to listen laughed at that one – you included. Fucking mages and their fancy schools, preaching about the importance of magic Witchers’ reliance on it. Ban Aard and Aretuza were the butt of a good number of jokes at Kaer Morhen, like Kaer Morhen certainly was to them.

“Enough standing around and talking,” you goad, “Grab your sword, Witcher.”

You ignore the hushed conversations around you as Geralt replaces the silver sword slung over his back with a dull iron one. The usual nonsense – something about the two of you thriving on attention and showing off and something else about the two of you needing to “just fuck already.”

He seems to be ignoring the group just as you are, reading himself as you do the same.

“Alright, Witcher,” you smile dangerously, “Let’s see if those Drowners sharpened your skills."

Part III

“It just doesn’t feel real,” you muse, turning over your shoulder to glance at Geralt who sits with his back flush against yours, “Only two days until the Trials.”

“Mhm,” he answers from deep in his chest. While you have chosen to cover up your panic and fear with excitement and fierce pride, Geralt has turned to philosophizing – existentialism and cynicism being his philosophies of choice.

“Geralt…” you mutter, wishing that you could get more than a syllable or two out of him. “It’s going to be ok.”

You are trying to convince yourself just as much as you are trying to convince him. And, given your tendency to turn everything into a game of logic – very useful in calculating opponents next moves – chances are high that you are correct.

“We’ve both responded well to all of the elixirs they’ve given us, hardly any negative reactions at all,” you expound, but Geralt scoffs, making your mouth snap shut.

“Yes, except that one time two years back when you almost died.” His voice is laced with worry, and though you are facing opposite directions, you know exactly what his expression by his tone alone. His eyebrows are knitted together, and his amber eyes are narrowed such that from a distance, someone might not notice that he was undergoing mutations at all. His lips are pressed into a tight line, and his curls fall into his face. That, combined with his bulky form, would make anyone stay away. Anyone except for you.

“That was one time,” you press, “One elixir out of hundreds. It’s a better record than most people.” Kaer Morhen was your home and you truly wanted to become a Witcher. If you’d been left alone in Crookback Bog, you would have died years ago. And if you’d grown up in some backwater village or in the poor district of a city, plague or pox could’ve taken you. For you, the potions and elixirs and the mutations they induced were just the inevitable tradeoffs to life here. If you couldn’t survive the trials, you couldn’t be a Witcher, and if you couldn’t become a Witcher, you’d be on your own with no skills to speak of, no way to make a living. At least Kaer Morhen gave you something akin to a family – it had given you Geralt.

“I don’t care to remember any details of that week,” he mutters, looking at the ground and shaking his head, “But I… I can’t stop thinking about it. About you laying there burning with fever, calling out in your sleep.”

You are stunned. Geralt, while not as closed off as the other students and Witchers liked to say, was not apt to speak with such emotion. You can’t remember the last time you heard him stumble over his words like that – or if you ever had, for that matter. You open your mouth to speak, about how that was quite a regular occurrence for Kaer Morhen’s students as they underwent mutations, but he is already speaking again before you can get a word out.

“You kept saying that you were on fire, your bones were on fire,” you pick at the grass as he continues, “And the elixirs to help the pain only made it worse.”

Truth be told, you don’t have much memory of that week of your life. You were delirious with fever, and only remember brief moments that you could not definitively place in the “real” category or mark them off as hallucinations. But, as he speaks, some memories do pop into your mind. One in particular where it took three grown men to hold you down and force one of the elixir’s down your throat. Vizimir started calling you Little Vampire after that, thanks to the fact that your perfectly average canines managed to dig so deep into his hand that he still had a scar. Now, you supposed, you understood why Geralt didn’t like that one.

“I just… I can’t…” as Geralt stumbles over his words, you cannot tell if you are hearing his heart hammering or yours. You follow your immediate urge and turn around to sit next to him, both of you now looking out towards the grounds of Kaer Morhen through the trees. You’ve had this secret meeting place for years – a place where the two of you would go to talk or just to sit. A peaceful place, away from the constant chaos behind the castle walls.

“Geralt,” you say, placing a hand on his shoulder and shifting so that he is facing you, “You’re the strongest of all of us. Even Vizimir said…well, you remember!” You are referring to a conversation you overheard one evening when you were prowling around places you shouldn’t be. He was talking to one of the other instructors, the two of them comparing notes.

“Geralt, Y/N, and Eskel will be this year’s Three, mark my words.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” you add after a moment, voice quiet. You hadn’t known he was so scared to undergo the mutations. He was always the best in your training exercises, always the strongest, the fastest, the one getting all the special elixirs. You hadn’t even thought that he might still be worried.

Quite suddenly, he turns, placing his hand over the one of yours that is resting in your lap, “I’m not worried for myself. I just… I can’t… It makes me so angry to think of them putting you through that again.”

You look down, staring at his hand on top of yours, which is suddenly the only thing that you can focus on. Relationships at Kaer Morhen aren’t forbidden, but they aren’t common. There had been a handful of moments like these – none of them that went farther than stolen glances and they always left you feeling somehow empty, aching for what you couldn’t have.

Silence stretches between you. The only sound either of you make are the thundering of our hearts and carefully controlled breathing. Though, you notice, each time Geralt breathes in, there is a slight unsteadiness to it, a shakiness, as if he is trying as hard as you are to keep your breathing in check.

Finally, you draw a breath that would be noticeably shaky, even for a person who hadn’t undergone all of the mutations that the two of you had. You tear your eyes from your hand to look up at him and say, “I’m an adult, Geralt. I’m going through the trials willingly.”

Geralt doesn’t respond, just clenches his jaw and lets out a huff, so you continue, “We’ve always known about the Trials, I agreed to it when I came here, and I’ve continued to agree to it every time that I’ve taken any of their elixirs. I’ve...We’ve been training for this for our whole lives. Without Vizimir I would have died without getting a chance to experience real life.”

“I know the speech,” Geralt shoots back almost immediately, pulling his hand away and leaving you feeling hurt.

“Geralt.” You are struggling to keep your voice steady. You can’t decide if you feel like screaming or crying, so you keep to the Code and shove both of those urges down as deep as is possible given the situation. “It’s not my fault we have to undergo the mutations, so don’t fucking snap at me.”

“Fuck,” Geralt says, shaking his head and burying it in his hands, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I know.”

He is silent for another moment before he finally lowers his hands and looks up at you. You realize in that moment how close you are, your faces only inches apart. You can see the gold flecks in his amber eyes and the stubble on his cheeks and have to fight to ignore the urge to reach out and see how his skin feels beneath your hands, and what his eyes would look like if you did.

But then, he reaches out with one hand, hesitantly and ever so gently, to cup your face. You shiver as the pad of his thumb brushes just beneath your lower lip and the very corner of your mouth. Time feels suspended, as if the two of you are floating on some separate plane where the day of the Trials will never come and the two of you can just stay right here, just as you are, forever.

“I hate the idea of you undergoing the Trial because I can’t stomach the thought of losing you, Y/N.” The words are like a punch to the stomach that is somehow pleasant, knocking all the breath out of your lungs.

He leans even closer, until your foreheads are touching. “I know the Code, and I know I’m not supposed to, but I love you.”

You breathe in, memorizing the smell of him. You’ve only ever been this close during sparring exercises. You decide you like this a lot better.

“When I had the fever… The one thing that kept me, you know, here was you, you know,” you breathe. You’ve never told him because you know that no matter how much he had pretended to hate it as of late, he sticks to the Code. The Code, which doesn’t look highly on Witchers being in relationships – especially with one another. “And that’s why—and you’re the reason I know that I’ll survive the Trial.” Your eyes have drifted down, unable to meet his as you confess this – the secret you have been hiding from him for so long.

He is silent for a moment, frozen there with his deliciously warm hand on your face before finally letting his and slip lower, resting under your chin and gently tilting your head up so that he can meet your eyes. “Fuck the Code,” he says, eyes flashing before pressing his lips to yours.

It is your first kiss, and it is pure bliss. Your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle and the sensation has you drunk with pleasure before he even deepens the kiss. And, when he does, you are ready. You part your lips for him, and he greedily explores your mouth. You keep thinking that it can’t get any better, but yet it does. You moan involuntarily as his hand slips from your chin, ghosting along the curve of your neck and coming to rest on your shoulder, calloused thumb sweeping across your collar bone.

His touch is electric, leaving your skin feeling hot and charged, and longing for more. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling yourself flush against him. He responds with an appreciative grunt, moving his hands to explore your body, starting by sweeping down your sides, just barely grazing the sides of your breasts in the process.

With his hands now firmly wrapped around your sides, he breaks the kiss, leaving you in a huff of frustration and disappointment – you hadn’t had nearly enough of him. But before you can get too out of sorts, his lips touch your neck and you moan, tipping your head back to grant him complete access. You don’t even have time to worry about the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing – that you have never done this before – because Geralt is so thorough, so in control of the situation. It’s like he knows all the right places to touch, and exactly what to do with his mouth to have you breathing heavily, small sounds of pleasure slipping through your lips.

Tentatively, you begin exploring his body with your hands. You love the way that his muscled form feels beneath your fingers, and it makes you want to explore every inch. As your hands move down his chest, you find yourself tugging at his shirt. You don’t know if it is an involuntary reaction to his teeth grazing your neck as his lips continue down to your collarbone or whether it is simply a feeble attempt to pull the fabric away because you would very much like to know what his sculpted abdomen feels like beneath your fingers without the offending material in the way.

Geralt’s hands, on the other hand, have gripped your white linen shirt, identical to his own, and already began pulling it over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, and the moment it is off, you greedily reach for his own tugging the material up and over his head. For a moment, you just stare at him, drinking in the sight of him shirtless before you. It wasn’t as if you had never seen him this way – but you had always done your best not to look too long, afraid that he would notice as question why.

However, he interrupts your moment of slightly embarrassing admiration when he wraps his arms around you, hands grazing your hyper-sensitive skin. You sigh, content to let him touch every inch of you. Encouraged by this, his hands wander up to unlace your bra and you bite your lip in anticipation. You cannot wait to feel his hands on them, arching your back, willing him to make faster work of it.

He grins as he slips the material off your shoulders, grin turning into more of a smirk as he sees you staring back at him with wide, expectant eyes. He slides one hand up your back, easing you down so you are laying beneath him, eyes drinking in the sight of you naked form and making your feel suddenly exposed. But, given the way his pupils dilate, he likes what he sees as much as you do.

He leans over you, lowering himself so that he can bring his lips to yours once more. You greedily bite his lower lip, hands back to their game of exploring as much of his body as you can reach. And then all of a sudden, you feel his stubbled cheek graze against yours as he leans to growl in your ear, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you, Witcheress.”

His words add fuel to the fire burning in your core, and you whimper as his fingers brush your nipple. It feels so delicious it is almost painful. You’ve never even allowed yourself to fantasize about this scenario, as much as you may have wanted to. You never thought it would happen – and you weren’t one to dream of impossible things. And yet, here you both were.

“Geralt,” you breathe, completely lost I the feeling as he kneads and pinches your breasts. And then… his lips. The feeling of them against your breast and his tongue flattening against your nipple is warm and soft and better than you could have ever imagined it feeling. Your eyes roll up into your head as he makes use of his free hand to gently twist and pinch the bud not currently receiving the attention of his tongue.

Heat pools in your core, twisting and tightening and aching for his touch, and, oh gods, for his tongue. Any nerves you thought you would have doing this for the first time have evaporated. There is no room in your pleasure-drunk mind for nervous thoughts.

Once again, seemingly able to read your thoughts, he slips a hand between the two of you, unfastening your belt and unlacing your trousers. For a brief moment, your mind blinks to a thought of just how practiced his hands are – but you don’t dwell on it for more than a split second. You are burning with need, and you could care less how many women Geralt has had before you – if the stories of the young man’s exploits on those rare occasions when Kaer Morhen’s young Witchers in training were given leave to take on smaller contracts here and there under supervision of elders – it doesn’t matter to you right now.

It matters even less when his hand slips into your waistband, expert fingers finding their way to where you need him most. His finger dips between your folds, gathering the wet heat pooled there for him, humming appreciatively against your chest as he lets his finger trail back up to the little bundle of nerves. His touch is perfect parts gentle and firm as he circles the small bud, making you cry out into the open air.

“You like that, Witcheress?” he asks gruffly, swirling his finger again and making you buck your hips against his hand. Making yourself form words is pretty much hopeless at this point, with his finger dancing over the hard little nub that no one save yourself has ever touched before, but your pleasured cries are more than enough answer for him.

He loves watching you like this – writhing beneath him, hips moving of their own accord, eyes blinking open and closed again. He especially loves your little gasps; the way your pretty mouth stays open in a constant ‘oh’ as he works you with his fingers. Your ragged breathing turns him on even more; your breasts rising and falling at uneven intervals as he increases his pace and pressure. And, oh gods, he loves the groan that escapes your lips when he does.

“Gods,” you say with a great deal of effort, “That feels… G-geralt!”

He watches you as your body tenses for a moment, amber eyes fixed on you as he watches you fall apart, already committing this image to memory; the first time you’d come for him. You are still twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack your body when he grabs your waistband and tugs your pants off roughly, breathing in your scent and greedily taking in the sight of you.

Your thighs tremble as he presses his lips to the inside of your calf, peppering the soft skin with kisses as he moves his way up your leg. You are still reeling from your orgasm, but already you need more. His hands follow his lips, massaging the seemingly always sore muscles of your legs and making you sigh with pleasure.

You reach down to run a hand through his hair, and he lifts his amber eyes to meet yours as he moves to your other leg, pressing kisses across ever inch of your skin. His tongue traces the crease between your thigh and your most intimate area, and your hips thrust towards his face of their own accord. But then a thought enters your mind, and you tug at his hair, “Geralt.”

“Yes, Witcheress?” he says, locking you in his intense gaze.

“I should… Shouldn’t I? You know…?” You can feel his bulge through his pants, and you are eager to touch him, to feel his hardness with your fingers, your tongue, and inside of you. But for now, Geralt clearly has other plans.

“Shh, Witcheress,” he says, nipping gently at your inner thigh with his teeth, “I’m not done with you yet.” His words send your mind into a whirl as his hands slip under your thighs to your ass, letting his shoulders hold your already quivering legs apart so that you are completely exposed to him. You whimper as he blows cool air on your heat, making you shiver.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he says gruffly, eyes locked on yours once again, “But first I want to taste you.” He lets his tongue just barely graze your clit, and you whimper again, on the verge of begging. “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Y/N?”

You can only whimper in response, your need for him an almost painful ache in your core.

“Hmm?” he rumbles, looking up at you with an impish grin, “Didn’t hear you.” You cannot think of a more beautiful sight than Geralt – the boy who was your first friend and the man who you fell in love with little by little until you were mad with it – looking up at you as if you are the only person in the world.

“Y-yes,” you whimper, voice laced with need.

“Mhm,” he growls, finally running his tongue from your opening to the little bundle of nerves. The feeling of his tongue touching you there has you seeing stars. It feels even better than his fingers as he explores you, paying particular attention to the places that make you gasp and tighten your grip on his hair.

He takes his time, savoring the way you taste, better even then he imagined – which he often had despite his efforts not to think of you that way. He’d tried to stick to the Code, he’d tried everything to keep his mind busy – every time he made a trip out of Kaer Morhen, he’d tried to distract himself, but now, as he explores you with his tongue, breathes your scent, feels your soft skin beneath his fingertips, and hears your soft gasps and moans, all he can think is that he has abided by the Code for way too fucking long.

You are absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth on you. And, when his lips close around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and attacking it with his tongue, you cry out so loud you are almost convinced everyone back in the Keep can hear you, not that you care. He moans against you, delicious vibrations making you cry out again.

His hand has been traveling closer and closer to your entrance, and you find yourself desperately moving your hips, urging him on. This time, he obliges without teasing, seeming as if he couldn’t pull away from you if he wanted to.

He groans along with you as he slips a finger inside of you, stretching you gently. He takes his time here, too, slowly pumping his finger in and out, committing to memory every place that makes you gasp and writhe until he finds that spot. He adds another finger, focusing on the sensitive place inside of you. Your eyes screw shut as he curls his fingers in time with his tongue; he has turned you into a senseless mess.

The pleasure is too much. Every muscle in your body tenses before finally, you release. Your back arches as you cry out, thighs trapping Geralt in place as you ride out wave after wave of pleasure until finally your body goes slack and you fall back against the grass, breathing heavily.

For a moment, Geralt doesn’t move, yellow eyes drinking in the sight of you lying there slowly coming back to your senses. When your breathing has somewhat returned to normal, he slowly kisses up your body until he reaches your lips, capturing you in a kiss that seems to last forever, but still not long enough. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it drives you mad.

You are already reaching down, desperately and clumsily attempting to yank off his pants, wanting there to be nothing between the two of you. He helps you with the task, kicking off his boots and tossing his remaining clothing to the side. You watch him, eyes committing every muscle and every scar to memory, and finally you allow yourself to look lower.

It takes you a moment to realize that you’re staring, eyes wide as you consider the size of him. Not that you have anything to compare it to, but he is huge, and, considering the only thing that had been inside you before this day are your own fingers, you shiver at the thought of it. He lowers himself back onto his elbows, eyes finding yours as he brushes stray strands of hair from your sweat-soaked forehead as you blink up at him through your lashes, chewing your lower lip, feeling equal parts nervous and impatient.

As your heart hammers in your chest, he leans down to press his lips against the sensitive spot at the crook of your neck, positioning himself between your legs. You whimper as he teases you with the head of his large cock, sliding it from your entrance to your clit and back again, pausing there when all you wanted was for him to push himself inside you.

And all at once, he does. You draw in a sharp breath at the mix of pain and pleasure. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him. You hadn’t thought it’d feel this good. You’d not had much in the way of women to tell you about things like this here at Kaer Morhen. Most of what you learned, you learned from the boys – and you’d learn to take anything you heard from them with a grain of salt. But this – gods. It felt like pure bliss.

Finally, he slowly drew out and thrust back in again, groaning into the space between your neck and shoulder. By his third thrust, you were already raising your hips to meet his, wanting more, faster, harder. But Geralt was taking his time, despite your fingers raking his back, leaving red marks that could be mistaken for claw marks, in all honesty.

“Geralt,” his name spills from your lips in something between a sigh and a moan. He responds by kissing your neck, then moving up to kiss your lips, the two of you lying there, drinking each other in, hips moving harder and faster as he fills you up over and over again, somehow hitting every single spot inside of you, making you whimper beneath him.

You are both sweating, breathing heavily, and clawing at each other as if your lives depend on exploring every part of one another. His thrusts are even, though. A perfect rhythm that has you repeating his name over and over like a prayer. Each time, he hits that spot, and you feel that tightening in your belly, like a coil. And then, all of a sudden, it snaps, and you are lost in a sea of pleasure.

He finishes almost immediately after you, thrusts growing more and more sporadic as he finishes inside you.

The two of you lay there, half-clothed but unworried. No one will stumble upon you out here. Code be damned, you are in love. And for tonight, you are just that – not two people about to undergo the Trials, not a future Witcher and Witcheress – just two young lovers, all tangled up together, staring up at a sky fully of stars, watching the moon rise over the Snow Pine Mountains.

Taglist: @fairytale07, @geeksareunique, @jesseswartzwelder, @haru-ririchiyo, @unnamedmaincharacter, @lazilyscentedwerewolf, @stretchkingblog97, @curlyhairedandconfused, @valkyriepuff, @comicbeginning, @alwayshave-faith, @hp-hogwartsexpress, @angelic-kisses13, @holyhumorliteraturelight, @nogitsunelichen

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#geralt x reader #geralt imagines #geralt of rivia #reader insert #witcher reader #geralt of rivia x reader #story: stone hearts #series #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geralt fanfiction #the witcher au #au #witcher school au #fanfiction series

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videogamelover99 · 5 years ago

Text

Reason

A/N: I physically cannot write something that’s not angst. Anyway, with Episode 15 of TAZ Graduation (by far the best episode, in my opinion), I couldn’t help but need to write this. Warnings for: sexual coercion, abuse of power, classism. AO3 link here.

Summary:

"When you transformed Silvia Nite, the fear in her eyes made you feel powerful. Don't you want that again?"

"...I kinda do."

Chaos takes their time to convince Fitzroy that their power is worth it.

When Fitzroy was eight, his father finally took him with his caravan. It was hired out to a Madam Adaman Fern, a human whose new estate was waiting to be moved into. Fitz had watched the items get loaded in by his father’s crew, one by one: solid red wood furniture, silverware of the purest metal, a grandfather clock, and pounds and pounds of jewelry, carried in malachite boxes, full of amber, jade, gold and precious stones that he’d never thought existed. He’d excitedly watched from his father’s place at the head of the wagon, his father smiling as he calmed the horses down, stroking their necks. It was a long trip, passing fields and rivers and mountains, each more beautiful and grander than the last. Fitzroy, in his short life, had seen nothing father than his nowhere town and the local farmer’s market his mother liked to go to. He tried to consume all of it, to not miss a glimpse of anything they passed on their way. That night, the crew had a hard time wrestling him to sleep.

When he woke up, earlier than he ever had out of his excitement, the first thing his eyes were drawn to was the large, three story mansion. It loomed above the horizon, its marble columns reflecting the light of the dawn in a way that made them shine with early morning luminescence. The caravan pulled up in front of the large iron gate, and the crew got out, ready to unload. Beyond the gate, he could see a cobble-stone driveway, circular and in the center of it – a marble fountain, shaped like many outstretched hands, holding up the sky. In front of the carriage stood a woman, helped down by a man in a black and white frock. They slowly approached the caravan, stopping a few paces away from Fitzroy’s father as he got down to greet them. They had not a speck of dirt or road dust on their silken garments. Jerry, when right in front of them, with his grass stains and horsehair covering his overalls, looked a bit like a homeless vagabond. He nodded politely at the two as they watched the luggage get unloaded.

“Careful with that,” the woman said softly, eyeing the people handling the grandfather clock, “it’s been in my family for generations.”

Then she spared a glance at Fitzroy, and the boy smiled wide, like he always did to grownups he didn’t quite know yet. His mother loved that smile, said none of their neighbors could ever resist it.

The woman did not smile back. Instead, she gave him a look, one that made him want to climb into one of the wagons and never crawl out again. A look of pure, unashamed resentment. They she turned away quickly, as if Fitzroy was not worth any more of her time, her jewelry clinking gently as she did so.

Fitzroy remembered that look well. He’d remembered it, because it was the same look that the students at Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School sent him as he passed down the hall, weighed down with expensive, barely affordable books, and ill-fitting clothing his dad had given him. It was a look he chose to remember, when his body was too tired to stand, when his mind was unfocused, when his muscles ached from the overexertion of his training, when his hands shook when holding the sword. He remembered it, and pushed on, past the pain, past the sickness, past the shaky adrenaline.

You could say that at some point, his tenacity had become singlehandedly fueled by spite.

At first, he thought Silvia Nite was better. She’d called out his potential early on, when he’d felled several on the training field, his shirt clinging to the sweat on his back, his face and hands covered in dirt. She’d smiled, and he smiled back, proud that finally, finally someone was noticing his potential.

He had run into her in the hall once, embarrassed and out of breath from being late to class. She’d offered him a helping hand as he tripped over his own feet, mumbling an apology. “Your class can wait,” she said, leading him by the arm, “walk with me.”

He nodded frantically, at loss for words. She led him through the hall of the castle, and into the courtyard. They walked side by side, and Fitzroy had to fight the impulse to lower his head. She breathed power the same way he breathed oxygen. He’d admired the way she held herself, above any trifles or misunderstandings.

“I hear you’re making quite the progress,” she said, stopping just under an old apple tree.

“Y-yeah…I-I mean-” he choked on his words, nervously wondering if he’d already fucked this up.

She smiled at him. “Breathe.”

And, on command, he did. “That’s me! Always, always punching the clock, working those books…” he wanted to jump off the nearest cliff.

“Good,” she turned away from him, plucking one of the flowers from the tree, watching as a few stray petals flew to the ground, “you know, a lot of the other staff members didn’t believe me.”

“Believe you…?”

“About your potential.” She stroked the petals with the tip of her finger. “You’re a talented young man, Fitzroy,” she turned to him, and grinned. “I’m glad you were able to prove them wrong.”

“Oh…I-uh…thanks, I guess? T-thank you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. You’ve got no one but yourself to praise.” He nodded dumbly. His chested swelled with pride. She’d noticed. Silvia Nite had noticed him. His hard work, his monkey, his time, his pain - everything was finally worth something. “It was very good talking to you, Fitzroy Maplecourt. It’s time for you to head back to class,” and she walked away, the flower still in her hands.

He might’ve felt a little giddy when, after one of her lectures, she’d approached him again. He’d noticed the looks of the other students, some sneers, some of unidentifiable pity. He shrugged them off, thinking them envy. It wasn’t hard, given how much better he was than everyone else at mostly everything. Magic excluded. A Knight didn’t need magic to be successful. A Knight did, however, sometimes needed a helping hand. Which was what Silvia offered to him, placing her long, perfectly trimmed fingernails on his shoulder. She was much taller than him, her elven features similar to his own, and yet so much more pronounced, regal. “I believe there are some people in the oversight guild I can introduce you to. You’d want to build up contacts once you graduate.”

He’d nodded, already having thought of that for months now. Because even though his kingdom, Goodcastle – was already lined up for his taking, something told him broadening his scope was a wise decision.

She let go, stepping back toward her desk. “Meet me at my office tomorrow afternoon. There, we can continue this discussion.”

He should have suspected something, then. But he was too much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? And the opportunity seemed so close. Silvia Nite had tossed in the bait, and he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

But when the time came, and he poked his head into her office, even he could tell that something was wrong. The window blinds were down, and as Silvia walked up to greet him, shaking his hand, and reached over his shoulder to lock the door behind him. A part of him knew, when she told him to sit down, not letting go, smiling, her praise oozing out of her lips like molasses. Suddenly agitated, he shifted in his seat, all to aware of her gaze wandering all over him. They sat down, Silvia behind a redwood desk, him sitting across from her, hands writhing on his lap.

“I can help you, of course,” she’d said, her tone matter of fact, “graduate faster. Find important people to introduce you to. It would be an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” Then she sat back in her leather chair, adorned with the carved faces of eternally hungry wooden lions, and said: “I am a busy woman, though. It would take quite a lot of my schedule to do that for you, do you understand?”

He’d nodded. And flinched, when her hand covered his, and the whole time, his mind was screaming that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. He felt trapped. Under her gaze, in the shadows of the closed blinds, by the lock in the door behind him.

Then her other hand moved to grasp the back of his neck. “So you’ll have to do something for me as well, Fitzroy.” Then she tugged on his collar, and he sprang back, his legs finally working correctly. He was breathing shallow, panicky, because he knew that look. For so long she’d masked it under the pretense of kindness, with nice words and smiles, but at its core, it was all the same. The look of someone who thought that Fitzroy was nothing more than the mud under their shoes. He’d been such an idiot not to see it sooner.

The older woman moved back in surprise, her hand still hovering in the air. Then her gaze narrowed.

“Y-you…” he tried to find his voice, but it was shaking to much for him to form any words. He suddenly wanted to laugh. “You think…you can just…I will never-” He’d never felt so angry in his life.

Her eyebrows rose up, perfect arches she’d no doubt spent hours of her precious time on. She eyed him up and down, standing from her chair, and he bristled, his hands turning to fists. No matter how skilled in combat he’d become, he would still be no match for her. She held his gaze.

Then she sat down, waving a hand. “Alright. You may go, then.”

He practically flung himself at the door, turning the lock with his shaking fingers. “And Fitzroy?” she called, just as he was about to leave, with a tone that sent a chill down his spine, “not everyone is as accommodating as I am.”

After that day, the calls of kissass and teacher’s pet turned to something much more vicious. He made himself suck it up and carried on. Only a few months before graduation. He could make it. After all, one thing was made clear to him. There would be no one who would ever respect him, not until he left this school behind.

The anger didn’t go away. It festered, with every jeer, every rude gesture, every pitying gaze the other teacher had sent his way, and had boiled over when he had to face her once again, in her magic class, trying to light this goddamn candle that would not light the piece of shit-

Her gaze dug into him, ignoring all the other students, the resentful look so clear, so unmistakably present, and if he could just light this goddamned candle so he could leave-

And then the whole room exploded. And moments later, when Silvia Nite was turned back to normal, her gaze wide-eyed and terrified, Fitzroy felt like he couldn’t get enough of the fear in her eyes.

Chaos paused the memory, turning it over in their hand. “You were angry. Good.” They smiled at him, hovering over his shoulder as he looked alongside them. Their shifting head of hair wrapped around his shoulders like a cloud, undulating and free. “You had every right to be.” Their voice was like a whisper of the wind. “She wanted to possess you, control you. Her position gave her the illusion that she could own you. And she was wrong.” They waved their hand, and the memory faded from view, melting around them like sugar. “This is why I chose you.”

They came to him every night, his nonsensical half-dreams replaced by their strange, every-shifting world. Sometimes it was a room in a castle. Sometimes they were out in the woods. And sometimes, the two of them would just sit there, on the foot of his bed, his own body sleeping fitfully behind them. Chaos looked delighted whenever they came. They were possessive, but not in the way people were. They lacked that look in their eyes. They knew they owned him, but not from any illusion of power, not because they thought they were better than him. They owned him, simply because they could.

They turned to him them, smiling, but not amused. Reveling in their truth. “With my power, there will never be such humiliation. Isn’t that reason enough?”

#taz graduation #taz g #sir fitzroy maplecourt #chaos #taz grad spoilers #fanfiction

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

Text

Survey #178

“for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way.”

What’s your favorite type of bird? Barn owls are actual deities. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Pb & j. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? Same stuff I listen to now, although I had a mild screamo-ish phase. Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? No. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? Some cheap dollar store in the town, dunno names. What is your favorite Thai dish? Haven't tried any. When was the last time you made out with somebody? Over a month back. What month of the year was your mother born? August. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What TV show(s) have you been watching currently? None. How many apps do you have on your phone? Six. My phone has so, so little storage ugh. Have you ever dated a smoker? If not, would you? No to both. Are there any movies you’ve seen so many times? Yeah, sure. Of course a lot as a kid, Finding Nemo and The Lion King 1 & 2 especially, then I've watched both Blair Witch Project movies a lot, Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas... How would you describe your sense of humor? Sarcastic. What’s your favorite type of bread? Pumpernickel. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yeah. Have there ever been any brushfires/wildfires in your area? Yeah. What did you have to eat for dinner last night? Nothing (Thanksgiving was lunch). Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Do you know your significant other’s passwords? No, I have no reason to. Would you like to study abroad one day? No. Does someone have a crush on you but you don’t feel the same way? Idk. Who do you feel most beautiful around? Sara. /v\ What’s one makeup item you cannot live without? I could easily live without any. Is there one thing all of your ex’s had in common? All guys. Did you french kiss before you were 16? No. Imagine your spouse just died; would you get re-married? I don't know if I would. Like... I'd never stop loving her, so "moving on" to someone else just because she's no longer physically here would feel disloyal. What’s your favorite thing about life? New, fun experiences and creating strong bonds with people like you. Who pays for the first date? Idrc, but probably whoever proposed the date? Or split the bill? Have you ever had a friend that got a bf/gf, and then completely ignored you? Yeah. Do you play any computer games, if so, what ones? Not currently 'cuz my gaming laptop has to be fixed. :| When it is and I have my own income, I might return to WoW, but I'm not sure. I think the subscription is kinda high, and I have more important things to handle. What is the funniest movie you’ve ever seen? Idk why I find White Chicks so goddamn funny. What lyric means the most to you? Off the very top of my head, "A bloody war behind my eyes; I'll come all right on the other side" from "Free" by Mother Mother. Really makes me think of all I've been through but how I keep coming out stronger. Who is the smartest person you know? Girt. What’s the next movie you will see in theaters? Idk. Are you adopted? No. What band do you like that most people hate? You canNOT look me in the face and say you don't like at least one Nickelback song. I don't get the hate. Any new bands that you actually enjoy? Oh idk. What is your escape from reality? RPing. Do you have any self-inflicted scars on your arms? You can only just barely see them. Do you like “scene” hair? YEAH AND I ALWAYS FUCKING WANTED IT BUT I COULD NEVER POSE IT CORRECTLY 'CUZ MY HAIR WAS TOO THICK AND HEAVY. Have your parents ever been to jail? No. If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Definitely not. Does it scare you when a relationship moves too fast? Y E A H Would you ever consider hitchhiking? I don't know if I would even in a desperate situation... I don't trust people. Have you ever hitchhiked? No. Have you ever been to a music festival? No. What color car do you want to have? Burnt orange. Would you rather hike a mountain or explore a cave? Explore a cave!!! Would you rather wear a flower crown or veil? Probably a veil? Do you believe peace on earth is attainable? I honestly don't believe so. What type of tattoo do you want? s o m a n y What is your favorite insect? Butterflies. Would you ever live in the desert? Nooooo. Fuck the heat. Is your town beautiful? I don't really live in one, but the closest town isn't. Which season do you want to get married in? Autumn. Are totem poles cool? YEAH! Favorite art forms? Conceptual photography. What kind of music do you enjoy? Plenty sorts of metal, rock, and alternative. Do you have any gay friends? Yeah. Where is your favorite place to go? The zoo, even though I have mixed feelings about them... Do you know your dad? Yeah. How often do you get on Facebook? At least once a day. Are you related to anyone who’s in prison? Don't think so?? What concerts are you attending in the near future? Y'ALL I MIGHT FUCKING SEE OZZY IN JANUARY. He and Megadeth are coming to Charlotte and the tickets aren't too bad. :') It's a loooong drive but Mom was like "hell yeah" when I told her and wants to buy tickets after she gets her tax return AH. Metallica is a possibility too, but Mom doesn't think she can afford it. If you were kicked out of your house, where would you go first? Dad's. What are you currently looking forward to? Sara's b-day, Christmas, hopefully getting my laptop fixed, aforementioned concerts, and school. What was the reason you got grounded for last? Idk, that was a long time ago. But most likely for "talking back" to Mom. The last two people you kissed, are they virgins? Yes; probably not. Is there a guy that knows everything or mostly everything about you? Yeah. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? A bit to the left. If you could have anything delivered to your doorstep each morning, what would it be? Um,,, money?????? What is one vacation destination that many people think is just fabulous but which you personally have no desire to visit (or revisit)? New York City. Heard from my sister it's a shithole with the craziest and rudest people known to Planet Earth. I'm not big on cities, anyway. Which animated character is your all-time favorite? Uhhhhhh... Dory, maybe? If you could own a home on the shore of any body of water in the world, which waterfront would you choose? I WANT THE PINK BEACHES OF THE BAHAMAS. But I'm scared of the Bermuda Triangle so will probably never see them. :'''''') What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? MY RECOVERY. If I got through what I have, I can't ever give up and roll back down that hill. I'm focusing to always improve. If you could have any round object in the world, what spherical item would you want? t h e g a m e s p h e r e , l a d s If you were left alone for one hour with nothing more than a pen and a notepad, what would you be inclined to draw or write during those 60 minutes? Practice eyes or start a poem. If you could witness anything at all in super-slow motion, what would you want to see? Hmmm... OH, maybe a big cat's tongue licking meat. See how it actually shears tiny bits off. Cats' tongues are cool. What do you forget to do more often than anything else? Take my anxiety med at the right time. If you could teach everyone in the world one skill, what would it be? Compassion. You’ve been offered the chance to paint a billboard along a highway with any message you choose, as long as it’s only 10 words long. What is your message? Oh jeez, I'd have to think too hard on this. Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Tyler. Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? Not to my knowledge, and I doubt they would've. Do you have any relatives who live on a different continent than you? I don't believe so. What are your religious beliefs? Were you raised with those beliefs, or did you develop them on your own? I'm a theist, entailing I believe in a creator, but I know nothing about him/her/it. I personally picture them as a peaceful and sage deity that allows life to go on without it intervening anywhere, letting the world evolve on its own and see how we adapt to our unique settings and handle life. In the end, I believe we are either given some form of paradise or a type of damnation depending on how you wrote your story. I like to imagine the good go to their personal vision of "Heaven," and I wonder if the paranormal activity some experience in life are the acts of the damned, apparently confined to remain on Earth or something. Anyway, I wasn't raised with such beliefs; they were developed. I was brought up Catholic, then I turned to just simple Christianity as I didn't agree with a lot of Catholic ideas, and most recently I abruptly turned away from that in favor of theism. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? We went out for breakfast. What has been your favorite house/apartment/etc you’ve ever lived in? My last house for location, as a house itself, my childhood one. What’s something in your house that currently needs to be cleaned? I need to vacuum my room. Do you still remember any of the dreams or nightmares you had as a child? Yup. What’s the most bizarre conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of? The world is donut-shaped. Yeah. Do you have a good sense of direction? Not. At. All. Who was your first crush? Did you ever actually date them? Dylan, and no. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Who knows. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I don't think so. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? No. When was the last time you weren’t 100% sober? Uhhh maybe that movie night with Colleen and Chelsea. Is obtaining a college degree something that is important to you? Well, for my possible career future. Have you ever eaten at a vegan restaurant? No. Do you view substance abuse as a disease or a choice? I have... mixed feelings here. Starting something, that is indisputably a choice. Becoming addicted though, I'm not sure. Some people have addictive personalities so have a bigger inclination to become addicted, but isn't that just a personal trait/weakness you can fight?? I dunno. I know it's labelled as a disease by people way more informed than me though, so. What does the last text you sent say? Don't feel like checking. Does it bother you when people call you ‘ma'am’ or ‘sir?’ No. I live in the South, that's polite. Have you ever been obsessed with a television character? Does Dory count for movies? ha ha Do you ever wish you had powers of invisibility? Not really. What was the last thing that changed your life completely? Recovery. Do you have any step siblings? One. Have you ever been questioned by the police? No. In which state/country were you born? NC, U.S.A. Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state? Disney World. What do you normally drink when eating at a fast food restaurant? Coke or Mountain Dew. Have the police ever been looking for you? Not because I did something wrong; I've told the beach story a few times. If you chew gum, which kind is your favorite? I love the watermelon Hubba Bubba one asjfawoeu Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yeah. What was the last liquid that you choked on? Water, just this morning when I was taking my meds ah. How many times did you wake up today before actually getting up? Well, I woke up once in the middle of the night like usual, then I woke up at like, 6-something and went back to sleep. Who did you celebrate your last birthday with? Mom, sises, Ash's husband and kids, and Dad stopped by. Was your last kiss initiated by you or the other person? I think it was kinda a simultaneous thing. We were saying bye. Do you buy a ton of things at the store at once or just for that day? Mom does the shopping, but it depends on how much time she has and what's at the house. When getting dressed do you put your pants or shirt on first? Pants. When you kiss a person where do your hands usually go? I actually don't know if it's a consistent thing for me??? I don't kiss anyone regularly so I don't recognize a pattern. What is one song you listen to that you’re sure not many people do? "False Flags," probs. Massive Attack is so neglected of the attention they deserve. Do you use a handrail on stairs if there is one? Yes, I'm scared of tripping. What was the last thing you saw that made you smile? Teddy came right up into my face wanting attention. What is your favorite drinking game? Never played any. Do you have any tattoos that you don’t like anymore? I think I've mentioned why I don't love my "ohana" one now. I'm getting it covered at some point. My "perfectly flawed" one is probably getting covered by a much bigger piece; I picked a bad location for it to want a sleeve. I'd just maybe redesign it, put if somewhere else. Do you have a shower curtain or door? Curtain. Who was the last person from your high school graduating class you saw? Probs Colleen? Who was the last non-relative you hung out with? Sara. Are you listening to anything right now? I'm way too obsessed with "Black Wedding" by In This Moment (feat. Rob Halford). Rob makes it, and the chorus is awesome. How many keys are on your keychain? One. Who was the last person you took a photograph with? Ryder, my nephew. Are you left handed? No. What were you most scared of when you were little? Losing my mom/being separated from her. Are you biracial? No. When was the last time you painted your nails? What color(s)? I couldn't even guess. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? Thank fuck no. Have you ever overflown a bathtub? Don't think so. What’s at the top of your to-do list in life? Stay positive, never stop aiming to improve. What was the last thing you shared? Well, Thanksgiving food. Where are you most ticklish? Feet. Do not- Which cartoon character do you want to keep as a pet? Uhhhh how 'bout an Espeon. I imagine them to be calm and silently affectionate like cats and very intelligent. Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? No. When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? Getting food yesterday. Per usual, let things die down, but I still ended up crammed in a corner, unable to go in any direction while someone was trying to get past me. I was headed for an anxiety attack and felt like a total nuisance. I'm pretty sure it showed in how I was whipping my head around, shuffling in various directions, clearly wanting the fuck out. Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? No, lyrics can't ruin a song I like the sound of. What would be the icing on the cake for you this Christmas? A PS4, omg. I have to get my laptop fixed and a new camera, so I highly doubt I'm getting that or a tablet considering cost. I want to play the Spyro Reignited trilogy beyond words, like I refuse to even watch a let's play because I want to experience it all first-hand, but. Yeah, unlikely anytime soon. If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? Noooooo. Do you like quesadillas? Only chicken and/or cheese ones. Did you like the show Invader Zim? I surprisingly never saw it. What’s the greatest/most influential song you’ve ever heard? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy always makes me wanna get off my ass and do something. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen in a grocery store? A HUGE BOX OF ANIMAL HEADS IN THE MIDDLE OF WAL-MART, BECKONING THE FURRIES INTO ITS DEPTHS. Have you ever bought yourself a present on Christmas? No. Well, I've used money I've been given on Christmas, if that counts. Have you ever been on a mechanical bull? No. Do you need a key card to get into the building you live in? No. Have you ever stepped in chewing gum? Yes. Name all the people you know that you’ve seen today. Just Mom.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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officialdipp · 8 years ago

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OPEN GROUP VERSE ; DOLLS IN PSEUDO PARADISE

If you’re interested, feel free to reblog this to help spread the word !

Where do things go when they are no longer needed ? If something is deemed as ‘ forgotten ’, ‘ worthless ’, ‘ not worth remembering ’ then surely it would be as if that thing had never truly existed in the first place wouldn’t it ?

Thrown away, abandoned, no better than mere FANTASY.

But what does any of this have to do with you ? You are not a forgotten thing to be thrown away, surely you aren’t. You are surely someone who goes about life in the best way one can. Perhaps you have friends, family, pets, surely you have something, someone, which binds you to this world. ( you are REAL. ) So what does any of this have to do with you ?

A forest with no exit ( how long have you been walking ? ) you don’t remember how long you have been here ( when did you even walk into this forest ? Had you not been SOMEWHERE ELSE ? Walking to school, to work, to somewhere surely… nothing seems to be missing on your person after all… ) Would you not have noticed walking into a forest ? ( But you didn't. You didn’t notice. How are you here ? )

WHY IS THIS FOREST SO QUIET ?

An unnerving atmosphere truly, tall trees with branches reaching up vainly to the rising sun ( when did it become morning ? ) tendrils of mist curling through lush leaf strewn ground, grasping, grabbing, searching to cling desperately onto anything which was foolish enough to walk through these unmarked paths. This forest is unfamiliar, this forest is perhaps just the slightest bit unsettling, but not as unsettling as the vague distinct tingle in the back of one's mind which is all too recognizable as the feeling of being WATCHED ( but from where ? By what ? ) you hear no birds in the trees, you hear no movement of life through the underbrush. ( that isn't normal surely ) but you can FEEL it, you know you can, EYES watching your every move ( like a lion watching a lamb which has strayed from its pen )

Perhaps you walk faster, ( there has to be an exit ! ) perhaps you don’t care, ( you aren’t in any danger right ? So why should you ? ) perhaps you check your phone ( no service ) perhaps you cry out for help ( no response )

Where do things go when they are forgotten ?

Eventually, a breakthrough, through the trees and mist you can make out the distinct outline of a small village ( you weren’t walking in circles after all it seems ) and the closer you get the more you can begin to make out; a school, an apartment complex, and what you are sure is something like a gas station ( signs of civilization ! ) and what's more, among it all you catch sight of other people. A crowd slowly gathering at the center of what you could only assume is some sort of town square, around something, ( around someone ) and surely you soon join the crowd too, no ? It would be better for you than simply standing around ( or risking becoming lost in the woods once more ) this has to be a chance for answers. Then you see her, a women standing upon little more than slightly elevated platform at the center of it all, yet still somehow COMMANDING the attention of every person gathered around her.

Where do things go when they are forgotten ?

SHE has been expecting you it seems. Her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, parasol neatly folded at her side, bright ( unnatural ) violet eyes which at once sweep through the murmuring voices of the forcibly gathered crowd.

❝ My, my, so many things have WASHED UP on my shore it seems... ❞ She speaks suddenly, her voice somehow demanding the attention of every single person gathered before her despite its perfectly carefree tone. ( She isn’t making the effort to raise her voice much higher than the clamoring of the crowd, and why should she RAISE her voice ? Surely you will listen, wont you ? To the only person ( ? ) here who seems to know what's going on. ) ❝ Please DO settle down, all your pointless chitchat is going to give me a headache. I’m sure you all must have SO many questions, no ? ❞ A small chuckle escaped her lips, a small elegant curtsy given to the crowd in one completely fluid motion ( like a magician about to start a great show ) before continuing, ❝ --but as they say, patience is a virtue. All will be revealed with due time I promise you, but for now-- ❞

❝ WELCOME TO MY WONDERLAND ❞

Spirited away to a land of fantasy, trapped in an abandoned mountain village lost to time and space, you find yourself with nothing but the clothes on your back and anything you happened to have on hand. You have been captured, trapped like rats, and your captor, ( a woman calling herself Yukari Yakumo ) claims you have been FORGOTTEN by the world you came from.

The monster in your closet, the shadows that lurk in the night, the supernatural, the paranormal, how shocked must you be to discover they are all VERY much real. Real, and CRAVING for the FEAST they have been denied for so long.

And that is where you come in, your captor has made THAT much PERFECTLY clear. Forgotten to your world and lost in shadow, you are to become food for the creatures of myth and legend that haunt this place. However, your captor has taken pity ( ? ) on you, ( or perhaps simply sending lambs off to the slaughter is much too BORING for her tastes... ) and offers up a DEAL ( how FOND this one is of her GAMES ).

End the current existence of one of your fellow prisoners, and she will set you free, as a bonus, she’ll even grant you your greatest desire --a wish. However, all games need stakes, all games need a challenge ( did you really believe it’d be so SIMPLE ? ). Kill someone and get away with it when put on trial against your equals. If you FAIL you get EATEN by the monsters which lurk within the outskirts of the village. Likewise, if your fellow prisoners do not guess correctly, while you will be freed ( as promised ) the remaining prisoners will make quite the BUFFET in return...

You have been forced into a murder game, though really the better words for this is a game of survival.

Trapped in a land that does not care for you, populated by the creatures who gave humans a reason to FEAR the SHADOWS, trapped in a game of kill or be killed, live or die, escape or be eaten. In the end, lives WILL be lost. ( Your warden made THAT clear too ) Either way, Yukari is intent on getting exactly what she wants from her new PLAYGROUND.

There are NO real RULES here, though Yukari has been kind enough to place several ( actual ) customized street caution signs in the village square for you. Follow them, don’t follow them, she doesn’t really care, though if something goes WRONG don’t say she didn’t WARN YOU.

They are all very simple, and each sign colored in a visible bright yellow, they are as follows:

CAUTION !

The forest holds many dangers, try not to visit after sunset. Steal from the shops at your own risk: punishment will be administered at the whim of the shopkeepers. Property damage should be avoided, unless one is handy enough to fix whatever they broke. Leave offerings at shrines for a little bit of good luck ( you’ll need it ). Attack the sukima youkai at your own risk. Mind the gap.

VERSE INFO

✂—– This is an OPEN VERSE. ANYONE is free to join, canon, oc, multi-muse, etc. THE CUT-OFF POINT FOR CAST WILL BE SOMETIME AFTER THE SECOND CHAPTER BEGINS. Be sure to tag your verse posts with the tag ‘ v; dolls in pseudo paradise ’. Follow it to keep up with the verse’s events ! That is the official tag for the group, and where you will find open starters, group events, new applicants, etc. You’re more than welcome to make your own tag alongside that, though please tag your posts with the official tag so we can find your posts !

✂—– This verse is inspired by the setting of Touhou Project, the murder game mechanics of Dangan Ronpa, with a dash of Fatal Frame and other such horror games of its nature thrown in. as such, dark themes WILL be present. You do not have to be familiar with any of these things to participate, we got you covered on all fronts!

✂—– Youkai muses are allowed and encouraged! There’s only one catch- in this setting, youkai are born from human fear. It’s hard coded into their schematics, they cannot resist their nature. How open they are about their inhuman status amongst their peers is up to you, but given the situation they’re in.... it’s safe to say a wolf among the sheep’s going to cause a little bit of panic, no?

✂—– Yukari has basically spirited away all your muses from their canon verse / your verse of choice and dumped them into a realm which exists as a sort of ‘ wonderland ’, a pocket dimension of sorts with seemingly no exit. They have been kidnapped, ripped right from their ‘ story ’ and dropped right smack dab into the village with only the clothes on their backs and everything they may have on hand at the time.

✂—– As such, memories have been left INTACT ( probably ). Your muse remembers going about their daily life as normal before getting snatched up ( ‘ gapped away ’ literally walking through a rift in space-time which Yukari created ) and without their notice ending up a forest.

✂—– The village at NIGHT TIME leads to many events at RANDOM. There is no set schedule for these. Youkai are roaming in this village after all, and they will do as they please WHEN they please. Occasionally there will be witnesses, some there may not be. Some events may be dangerous to your muse, some might be helpful. But all of them are certainly strange… even the ones among you just seem a little bizarre.

✂—– It is preferable that you follow the ADMINS of this group as found in the admins page though it isn't required.

✂—– For the murder events, the admins will pair off two people ( though volunteers are welcomed ) – one to play the part of ‘ murderer ’ and the other their ‘ victim ’. The max amount of people who can be killed by ONE PERSON is TWO. If no one is willing to take the role, one of the admins will handle it.

✂—– Please. If you take part in this verse, treat each other kindly out of character and please be welcoming to those who join. See an open without notes ? Reply ! Want to plot with someone ? Feel free to ask ! We’re all just a big happy family stuck in a death village on a mountain. No big deal.

✂—– Threads of any length are welcome !

✂—– Trials, murders, and story events will be announced by Yukari. Trials are interactive and will be played out by interacting with other members in the group or by sending IC asks to this blog directed at Yukari. When it comes time to the voting, you’ll also cast your votes by sending them into the blog ! Yukari will also confirm or deny evidence in the trial and investigation if it’s needed or asked ( though whether she wants to or not is a different story-- ).

✂—– The application for this verse is short and simple. Only a few key things will be needed to know about your muse, which will be kept PRIVATE for the sake of moderating this ‘ story ’ New people will be introduced in batches and the masterlist will be updated as the applications come in !

✂—– Doubles are not an issue.

SEND ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS HERE PLEASE CHECK THE FAQ PAGE AND THE TAG AS IT'S UPDATED. FOR MORE INFORMATION ON THE SETTING ITSELF CHECK OUT THIS PAGE SUBMIT APP: HERE APP STATUS: OPEN

Name / Age: Species ( human / youkai / something else ? ): Weakness your character has ? ( physical / mental ): What would make them WANT to kill someone ? Strengths your character has ? ( physical / mental): What would KEEP them from killing ? Would you be willing to play the role of murderer ? Would you be willing to play the role of victim ? Triggers ? URL:

#v; dolls in pseudo paradise #reference #group verse #open group rp #open group verse #long post//

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