#people don’t attack the giant moon monster they scream and run | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alicanta77 · 4 years ago

Text

Run Away

pairing: y/n x Jaemin

themes: fluff, angst, non idol au

warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, drugs, drug use, overdose, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, depression, suicide attempt, death, character death, anxiety, abusive family, alcohol abuse

words: 12k

Disclaimer: This contains very dark content. Please do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with or easily triggered by anything listed in the warnings.

—————————————————��————————

Would you run away to me?

‘Run away!’ Your young voice rang out clearly. ‘Run away before Hook catches you!’

‘Captain Hook will never catch me.’ Jaemin declared, standing on a box to put himself higher than you. ‘Because I’m Peter Pan!’

Yours and Jaemin’s mothers watched the two of you play. Just two seven year olds who had nothing more to worry about than being saved from a giant make believe crocodile.

You fell backwards pretending as though you had landed in water. You flailed your arms and legs around calling out for Jaemin to save you.

Jaemin saw the “danger” you were in and leapt into action. He jumped off of his box, landing in a shaky forwards roll, before picking up into a run and speeding towards you. He paused on the way to grab a large stick from the floor to use as a sword as he pretended to battle the imaginary demon attacking you.

After the monster was defeated, he landed on his knees next to you. Pulling you close to check that you were okay.

‘Y/n? You’re safe now. Nothing can touch you when I’m here.’ He reassured you.

‘My hero.’ You giggled, sitting up properly.

Both your heads turned as your mother called the two of you in for a snack. You took Jaemin’s hand and pulled yourself up.

‘Race you to the table!’ You challenged, sprinting towards the open back door.

‘Cheat! You should have waited for me to be ready.’ Jaemin complained, already running after you. It didn’t matter how much of a head start you gave yourself, Jaemin would always let you win anyway.

You enjoyed playing make believe with Jaemin. The imaginary worlds you created were always so much better than reality. Places where the two of you could be heroes and save people, where you were safe as long as you had each other, where nothing and nobody could touch you.

Unfortunately, you always had to come back to reality.

You father stumbled through the door, throwing his keys in the general direction of the coffee table, and missing. He sent you and Jaemin a withering look before making his way upstairs. He left a strong scent of alcohol behind him, one that you were very used to.

Jaemin’s mother looked towards yours with a sympathetic smile, your mother simply shrugging helplessly back at her. You and Jaemin were too young to properly understand what was going on, but, even at that age, you could tell that it wasn’t good.

Jaemin had always been better at reading people than you were. He could tell from the slightest twitch in someone’s eyebrow as to whether they were angry, sad or confused. The only person you could read like a book was Jaemin. The two of you never bothered to hide anything from the other, knowing that it wouldn’t work even if you tried.

The two of you sat down at the table slowly, your actions speeding up when you noticed the plate of cookies on the table. The two of you smiled at each other, cheeks full of the sweet treat as your mothers looked endearingly at you. At your age you didn’t stay sad or scared for long, making it easier for them to distract and protect you from reality.

---

The afternoon sun was beating down outside, giving out the last of its rays before it descended and the moon took over. You and Jaemin sat together, happily watching as the sky morphed into a painting of pinks and oranges.

‘I like the sky like this.’ You said, resting your tiring head on Jaemin’s shoulder.

‘Why?’ He questioned, hugging his knees with his hands.

‘Because it looks like something out of a fairy tale. Somewhere there are happy ever afters, and everyone gets one.’ You explained as Jaemin nodded in agreement. The both of you were too young to fully understand the depths of the words you uttered.

‘I can’t wait for a happy ever after.’ Jaemin admitted, putting his head on yours.

‘Me neither.’ You murmured, enjoying being near your best friend.

‘Jaemin!’ Jaemin’s mother’s voice drew both your attention away from the sky in front of you. ‘It’s time to go! Say goodbye, you can see each other again tomorrow.’

Jaemin turned back to face you, pulling you in for a quick hug.

‘Bye y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He asked.

‘Of course.’ You replied, smiling at him.

Jaemin stood up off the porch steps the two of you were sitting on, and walked off with his mum. He turned back to send you one last wave before he crossed the street. You waved back, watching until he disappeared from your sight.

You couldn’t wait for your happy ever after.

---

But happy ever after took time.

You sat in your bedroom, your hands covering your ears as you buried your head in your duvet. You were doing everything you could think of to block out the noises but it wasn’t working. Your father’s drunk screams were echoing up to your room and your mother’s retaliations were just as noisy.

You whimpered as the words got more violent and vicious, the threats becoming more and more severe. It was when you heard a smack and a yelp of pain that you finally burst into tears.

You had never felt more useless in your life. The hopelessness washed over you in tidal waves as you tried as hard as you could to stop the tears. Nothing was working.

Your sobs got louder with each one that escaped you, eventually becoming almost as deafening as your parent’s harsh words to each other. Your young body was shaking, partially from fear and partially from the force of your crying.

The noise from the floor below you quietened, making you still slightly, your sobs turning into quiet cries as you listened.

You heard footsteps climbing the stairs, loud uneven footsteps that you knew were your father’s. You felt your heart start to race again, this time you knew it was in pure fear. A second pair chased up after him, much lighter and faster. That was your mother.

Your father threw open your door, a sadistic smile on his face as he looked at your vulnerable form.

‘How pathetic.’ He mused. ‘Crying because you can’t handle a bit of loud noise.’

You whimpered again, attempting to pull your duvet up over you, as if it was a shield that could protect you.

He stalked towards you.

‘Get up.’ He spat. ‘Now.’

You were to afraid to argue, pushing your duvet down and standing on shaking legs. You wrapped your arms around you to defend yourself from the sudden chill of leaving the warmth of your bed.

You father managed one more step towards you before your mother reached your room.

‘No.’ She commanded, her voice full of an unusual authority. ‘You don’t hurt her.’

Your father turned around, almost amused by your mother’s words.

‘Hurt her? How would I do that?’

Your mother was clearly afraid and not enjoying the teasing looking on your father’s face.

‘Ohhhh.’ He said, realisation taking over his features. ‘You mean like this?’

He moved so quickly that you didn’t have time to react. He whirled his body around and lashed out with a punch. It was so fast and so powerful that it knocked you off your feet.

You hit the floor with a thud, banging the top of your head as you did so. You blinked a couple of times, trying to get the floor to stop spinning. You vaguely registered your mother trowing herself at your father, but he easily threw her off.

You were too out of it to hear his dangerous whisper.

‘You come at me like that again, and I’ll hit that child twice as hard.’

All you noticed was your mother stopping in her tracks, immediately giving up on protecting you. You watched her figure move away, not sparing you another glance.

Your father watched her go, his back to you, and you took your opportunity. You pushed yourself up off the floor, careful not to make a sound and crept towards your window. As you opened it slightly, you heard their conversation ending, you couldn’t quite hearing what they were saying, but you knew that you were out of time.

You finally got your window fully open and had half of your body out of it when you father turned around.

His face changed into pure rage at the sight of you getting away and he ran towards the open window, making a lunge for you. You threw yourself backwards, trying to catch yourself on the tree outside but just missing.

You arms scrambled for random branches and objects to slow your fall and you landed harshly in the buses by your front door. They managed to soften your fall to an extent, leaving you still able to get up and run.

So you did.

You ran to the one place you knew you would always be safe.

You ran to Jaemin.

You didn’t spare a look behind you, not knowing that if you did, you would find out that you weren’t being followed and instead your father was simply watching you disappear from your bedroom window. He was never going to chase you.

Your breath escaped you in desperate pants as you forced your short legs to move faster. For a seven year old, the distance between yours and Jaemin’s house felt like a marathon, each step feeling as though it was taking you further away from him, rather than closer towards.

After what felt like a lifetime, you reached Jaemin’s front door, banging frantically on it. You couldn’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door opened to reveal Jaemin’s mother.

‘Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ She asked, her soothing voice making the tears well up in your eyes again.

You stuttered out a few syllables pointing wildly behind you, not managing to explain anything. Jaemin’s mother shushed you, pulling you close for a gentle hug. You buried your head into her shoulder and cried. You began to sob, fully breaking down onto her as the fear finally escaped you.

‘Mum?’ You heard Jaemin’s voice from further inside the house. ‘Mum, who’s that?’

His mother turned around, allowing you to see Jaemin through the mess of your tears. Even at such a young age, Jaemin was fiercely protective of you, rushing forwards to hug you himself.

‘Come on Jaemin, bring her inside.’ His mother instructed, her tone so refreshing gentle that it made you look up at to check that it was real.

Jaemin kept his hand tight in yours as he pulled you into the safety of his house. The two of you sat at the table while his mother made you some hot chocolate. Jaemin kept one hand on you at all time, not wanting you to feel alone, and wanting you to know that he was there.

You didn’t tell them what happened, not really knowing how to describe the past minutes of your life. You didn’t understand the full extent of the previous events, but somehow, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

---

You lay in Jaemin’s bed trying to get some sleep, while he lay on a mattress on the floor. You could tell that he was worried about you, he wanted to know what had gone wrong and how he could help. But, for the first time in his young life, Jaemin was completely helpless. All he could do was watch as you had to face a harsh reality.

You rolled onto your side, looking down at your friend who was lying on their back. Jaemin opened his eyes and looked over at you, waiting for you to speak first.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You whispered.

Jaemin’s heart sank. He knew that he couldn’t make you talk about anything that you didn’t want to, but he also wanted to know what he could do to make things better.

‘That’s ok.’ He settled on that for a reply, not really knowing what else he could say.

You let out a deep breath, letting yourself finally relax after the long and difficult night you had tackled. Your eyes slowly shut and you listened to Jaemin’s breathing, matching yours with him. You let yourself whisper one final sentence, something lost in the darkness, only ever to be heard by the boy lying on the floor next to you.

‘Jaemin... I think I need to grow up.’

---

You arrived back home, finding the door unlocked waiting for you. You shut it behind you, listening for the click. You had never thought to do that before. You trudged into the kitchen, looking around, expressionless, at the sight in front of you. There were smashed bottles, glasses and belongings everywhere. Paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, the coffee table by the TV had been thrown over and even the cushions on the sofa had been thrown about.

You knew that this was simply an argument of your parents’ that had gotten out of control. You knew you should probably react more, but you didn’t. You were going to grow up and accept it. You turned your line of sight to the dining table, where your father sat. You held eye contact for a second, neither of you saying a word as he finished the last of whatever was left in the whiskey he was drinking.

‘Can’t get into the back of the lower cupboards to get another.’ He stared you down while saying that.

Your young face didn’t change, you kept the same expressionless reaction on it as you crouched down and crawled into a cupboard. You pulled out the first bottle you saw, another whiskey that was half full and placed it on the table in front of your father.

‘Good girl.’ He said, nodding at you.

You made no attempt to reply in any way. Instead you turned on you heel and headed up the stairs. You paused in front of your room, listening to your mother’s sobs echoing from the other side of her closed bedroom door. You stood there for five seconds before moving inside your room and shutting the door behind you. You ignored it, knowing that it was your reality and you had to grow up and face that.

Then, you got ready for school.

In the end you got your wish to grow up. But you grew up too fast, the maturity forced on you by the struggles and difficulties you faced, and the trauma that came with them. You learnt very quickly that you either grew up and learnt how to survive, or you suffocated in the hellish mess you call reality.

So you chose to survive.

Would you run away for me?

‘Come on y/n! I’m getting tired of waiting for you. It doesn’t take that long.’ Jaemin whined up at your window.

‘Easy for you to say. You’re not the one climbing out of your window!’ You huffed, careful to make sure that your foot doesn’t slip.

‘Well I offered to climb up but you thought that would be a bit too ‘Romeo and Juliet’, so who’s fault is it really that we’re in this situation?’ He bit back, provoking a large eye roll out of you as you finally reached the ground.

‘Roll your eyes any harder why don’t you.’ Jaemin teased and you stared at him blankly for a second, before rolling your eyes so hard that it almost physically hurt. ‘Alright I stand corrected.’ Your friend grumbled as you laughed and began to skip away.

It was 11pm and both you and Jaemin were supposed to be asleep. But, being the rebellious 14 year olds you were, you decided to go for a walk. Luckily for the two of you, it was summer holidays and your streets were very well lit, meaning that you weren’t really in any danger.

Over the summer holidays, you had found yourself doing this more and more often with Jaemin. Your situation at home hadn’t gotten better over the past seven years, instead spiralling as your mother turned to the influence of alcohol in order to try and find the comfort her husband no longer provided.

Your family consisted of two alcoholic parents, one abusive and the other apparently unaware of your presence, whereas Jaemin’s household included his mother and a father that was attempting to buy his way back into their life after walking out on them ten years earlier.

Jaemin seemed to be the only place that actually felt like home for you, and you didn’t know it, but he felt the same way about you. It was such a blessing for the two of you to have your home as a person rather than a place, considering what state the places were in at the moment, it was probably lifesaving - you just didn’t realise it.

Jaemin jogged ahead of you, climbing up onto a small wall and walking along it.

‘When do you think we’ll get happy ever after?’ He asked, grinning down at you.

‘Get what?’ You laughed.

‘Happy ever after!’ He repeated, yet you still stared at him with one eyebrow raised. ‘What?’ He asked, jumping down and walking closer to you.

‘Jaemin... I don’t really think there is a happy ever after.’ You admitted and his face fell into confusion.

‘What are you talking about? That was the whole goal. We’re gonna grow up together, move away from here and finally get a happy ever after. That was the plan y/n!’ Jaemin insisted, confusion evident on his face.

‘I know it was, but I just think that that’s not really in the cards for me anymore.’ You shrugged, not really thinking it that big of a deal. Jaemin seemed to think otherwise.

‘What? Y/n, I don’t understand where is this coming from? Of course it’s in the cards for you! Do you not remember everything we talked about when we were kids? We used to love to play hero because at the end of it, we always got that happy ever after.’ Jaemin’s voice was turning sad, his face dropping.

‘Come on Jaemin.’ You laughed. ‘There was a reason that was all imaginary. We used to wish for when we could grow up but we had no idea what that really meant. It means letting go of those childish fantasies and facing reality. And reality is, happy ever after doesn’t come to everyone. I don’t want to spend my life chasing something that isn’t even real.’ You said the words casually, almost jokingly as you laughed through it, but they held much deeper meaning that Jaemin seemed to catch on to.

How could you believe in happy ever after when you’ve never seen it?

He nodded, sending you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into the park.

‘Race you to the swings?’ He challenged.

‘You’re on!’

---

Anything. You really would do anything for Jaemin. When you said he meant the world to you, you were understating it. You only said that because it was the closest description to how you felt. So when the two of you walked into his home late next afternoon to find his father sitting at the table with an innocent smile, you were prepared to do anything Jaemin needed you to.

‘Evening son!’ His father greeted him happily.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Jaemin spat, his eyes hard. ‘How did you even get in?’

‘Your mother let me in, son.’ Jaemin’s father explained. ‘I-’

‘Don’t call me son.’ Jaemin interrupted, his voice threatening calm but his eyes were wild with fury.

His father took a breath before continuing. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Great, good talk. We’re going.’ Jaemin grabbed your hand again and heading towards the stairs.

‘We need to talk son.’ His father repeated.

Jaemin visibly tensed.

‘Don’t call me son...’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his voice not so calm anymore.

His father persisted. ‘Your mother and I have been having conversations and, with her new job, we both agreed that it is best that I move back here for the time being so that there’s someone to take care of you.’

Jaemin didn’t reply to that, his face a picture of rage, disbelief and desperation. You could tell that this was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. His father’s choice to continue speaking did nothing to calm the storm that was brewing in his mind.

‘Now I know that this is going to take some getting used to, but son-’

‘Do not call me son!’ Jaemin whirled around on his father, the shout erupting from his throat. ‘You don’t get to call me son until you’ve acted like a father! You’re nothing but a coward and I want nothing to do with someone like you!’

With that he walked back towards the front door, opening it and walking out. His grip on you hand never loosened, effectively bringing you with him and you just managed to grab the door handle and pull it shut behind you.

You let Jaemin walk for a bit, just following him as he paced around the town. After a couple of minutes of tense silence, you found yourselves back in the park you were in last night. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jaemin got there first.

‘We should go.’

Your head whipped around, staring at the boy in front of you in confusion.

‘Go?’ You asked, watching as he turned back to you.

‘Yeah. We always talked about leaving, let’s do it. Now.’ You could see in his eyes that he was being 100% serious, and it honestly made you nervous.

‘Jaemin... we can’t just leave.’ You told him, keeping your voice soft.

‘Why not? We can make it. We just stay together, find somewhere where no one knows who we are or what’s happened to us. Everyone in this town known too damn much about each other. I want to be known as something more than just the boy who’s dad didn’t even want him.’ Jaemin insisted, the raw honestly in his sentences were making your eyes sting slightly. You loved him so much and wanted him to be happy and safe, but you knew that you couldn’t run away, not yet.

‘Jaem, I don’t... We can’t just leave. We just 14... How would we leave? Where would we go? How could we survive with just the two of us? I just don’t think that this is the right time for us to run away. But, trust me when I say, we will leave. We will get out of here, I promise.’

‘The same way you promised we would always get a happy ever after?’

Jaemin wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead he was looking at the gradually changing sky, the way he always did when he had a lot going on in his mind. You bit your lip, the words he spoke hitting you as hard as knives. You meant what you had said yesterday, but you wished you had stopped to think about how it would affect Jaemin if you had said it.

‘Do you wanna stay at mine tonight?’ You asked him, moving your hand out of his and resting it on his bicep, doing the same with your other. He looked up at you before closing his eyes and nodding.

You smiled sadly at him before moving your arms further upwards and wrapping them around his neck. You pulled his into a tight hug, relieved when he began to hug you back. He held you as close as he could and buried his head into your neck. You could hear his soft sniffles and your heart clenched at the realisation that he was quietly crying.

‘I just wish... I just wish he would let us be happy without him. Mum was doing so well...’ His voice trailed off and you said nothing, just gently stroking his hair while allowing him to say as much or as littler as he wanted.

‘Can we go?’ He whispered and you nodded, gently pulling away.

You held you hand back out for him, which he gladly took, and began the short walk back to yours.

---

Jaemin had spent every night of the past week and a half at yours. His mum worked night shifts at her job so she wasn’t around to see that her son wasn’t at home either. You never minded as your parents took no notice of you so it was nice to finally have some company.

You were sat in the living room together, watching a film on the tv in front of you. Earlier that day you had gone to the shops to pick up snacks and the table in front of you was littered with food. There was a big bowl of popcorn, along with crisps and food and, not to mention, drinks.

You were laughing at a comment Jaemin had made about one of the characters when the front door burst open. You both jumped at the noise and Jaemin immediately paused what was on TV. You stayed quiet, wondering who was coming home at this hour. You knew your mum was also working a night shift and you assumed that you father was working late, but you were soon proved wrong.

You father stumbled through the door, almost slipping on the wall as he tried to steady himself. You shot to your feet, Jaemin following you. In the past few years you had gained the courage to tell Jaemin the truth about the bruises he kept finding on your body, and he knew that if your father was a drunk as he appeared, things were likely to get violent.

Instead your father broke out into a smile, turning around to look at something behind him and laughing. You and Jaemin shared a confused look before you moved closer to the open doorway, hoping to get a look at what he was laughing at.

What you saw made your entire body tense up with anger.

Jaemin came around behind you and, when he saw the same sight the greeted you, immediately placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your father was standing in the hall way, making out with a woman who was most definitely not your mother. You watched as he pulled away from her, accepting her hand to bring him upstairs. You watched them disappear at the top of the stairs, turning the corner towards the room that he shared with your mother every night, and heard the door shut.

You didn’t move, filled with so many different emotions that you didn’t know what to feel. Jaemin gently held you by the shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the couch. He sat on the coffee table in front of you, clearing a small space before looking at you. He kept his hands on either side of your face, pushing your hair out of your eyes and wanting you to look at him. The dazed, unfocused look on your face was beginning to worry him.

‘Y/n? Y/n it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, you’ve survived worse than this and I know that you’re going to be okay. Okay? Please just look at me?’ Jaemin begged you.

You focused your eyes on him, one emotion in particular drowning out all the others. Anger.

‘After everything he’s put my mum through, all the pain, all the trauma, and it’s still not enough for him.’ You breathed out, trying so hard to keep yourself calm. ‘Is there anything left for him to do? Any pain he hasn’t put her through?’

You turned and stared at Jaemin expectantly but he just looked back at you, completely at a loss of what to say.

‘I don’t know how much more of this she can take...’ Your voice dropped to a whisper, fear taking over your body.

‘Oh y/n...’ Jaemin moved so that he was sat next to you instead. He wrapped you up in his arms and whispered comforting words into you hair. But you didn’t hear any of them. You lay in his embrace, staring at the food on the table that made you feel sick from the sight of it. ‘Let’s go to mine yeah?’ He suggested, causing you to shoot up and shake your head.

‘No, Jaemin, that means staying in the same house as your dad.’ You objected, not wanting to go back on the only thing you could for him - provide a safe space.

‘Better than staying here.’ Jaemin reasoned.

You opened your mouth to argue but a small bang and squeak echoed through the floor boards above you and made your skin crawl. You scrunched up your face in displeasure and nodded at the boy next to you. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the door.

---

You crawled into the mattress on Jaemin’s floor that was set up for you, ready for this day to be over. Jaemin gently made his way around you to climb into his bed. He argued for about 25 minutes about you sleeping on the floor, but you insisted.

He switched off the light and you both lay in silence. You shut your eyes, hoping that would let sleep take over you, but your mind was far to awake to let your body rest.

You began to think about Jaemin’s offer to run away, and how sweet and simple it seemed. Just pack a bag, grab your best friend, and leave this god forsake town behind. Jaemin was right, everyone here knew too much about each other. The whispers on the streets about your father’s drinking, or the bruises on your arms haunted you as you attempted to live your life.

You thought about what it would be like one day. Just you and Jaemin, somewhere completely new, where you could have just him by your side, and always feel safe. Because Jaemin made you feel safe. A place where you wouldn’t have to worry about being afraid of your father. A place where Jaemin didn’t have to worry about his mother or be on his constant guard around his father. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you knew two things about it. One, it would be a place of peace, where tranquility is in the air. And two, Jaemin would be there. Whenever you thought about your future, in any means, Jaemin was always there. You weren’t ever prepared to lose him.

You opened your eyes again, and spoke quietly.

‘Jaemin?’

‘Yeah?’ He replied, not moving from his current position.

‘I meant what I said last week you know?’ You said.

‘Huh?’ Jaemin opened his eyes, rolling onto his side so that he was looking at you.

‘About our happy ending.’ Jaemin raised an eyebrow at your statement. ‘We will leave here someday. And, wherever we go, we’re gonna be together. I promise you.’ You reassured him.

Jaemin didn’t reply, instead he simply moved over, opening the covers for you in a silent invitation. You immediately took it, climbing out of your covers and crawling into his embrace. He wrapped an arm tight around you and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

‘Promise me something else?’ He asked, his voice just above a whisper and shaking slightly.

‘Anything.’ You whispered back.

‘No matter what happens, you’ll always love me and... when the time comes, you’ll forgive me.’ Your heart clenched at his quiet words.

‘Forgive you? Jaemin what do you-’

‘Just promise me. Please.’ Jaemin cut you off, holding you tighter by the second, waiting for your reply.

‘I promise.’

---

Jaemin walked the route that had become scarily familiar to him in the past few weeks. In the times when he couldn’t see you, he found himself drifting here. He wasn’t sure what kept bringing him to this place, maybe it was the fact that it was only area where he really felt alone. To be honest, he felt alone every day, but at least up here, he really was alone, no one was around for miles.

He’d mentioned it to you in the past at some point, but he doubted you remembered.

Jaemin reached the same place he always did and turned towards the view. He climbed over the barrier and sat himself on the edge.

The bridge he was sitting on towered above a river, one that was twisting and turning with the harsh current that tore through it. Every time he came here, Jaemin told himself it was just for the view, but he knew that that wasn’t the reason he always climbed through the safety barrier and onto the shaky beams.

He knew that the view wasn’t the reason he always looked down at the river, finding it more and more inviting with every trip here he made.

Jaemin reached into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing and pulled out his phone. He switched it on and was immediately greeted with a photo of the two of you. He smiled subconsciously at the sight of your smiling face.

God he was going to miss you.

But he had faith that you would be okay. You were the strongest person Jaemin knew, you could come back from anything. It wasn’t like he was much to miss anyway.

He opened his contacts and scrolled down until he found your name listed. He pressed on the number and lifted the phone to his cheek, taking a shaky breath to calm his nerves.

You picked up on the third ring.

‘Jaemin!’ he smiled at the sound of your cheerful voice, admiring how you could sound so happy when he knew how deeply you were hurting. ‘Where are we meeting today?’

‘Actually y/n-’ Jaemin cut himself off, having to take another breath to stop himself from breaking down entirely. ‘Actually y/n I think I’m gonna be a little late today.’

‘That’s okay. Why though? You’re not secretly making new friends are you?’ Your joking tone didn’t quite reach him this time.

‘Of course not, you know you’re my favourite.’ He admitted, the words truer than they had ever been before.

‘Good, because I’m not letting you pick someone else over me.’ God he loved hearing your voice, he needed this phone call but it was also making this so much harder.

‘Y/n, there’s a reason I’m going to be late today.’ Jaemin began, listening to how you hummed along to show that you were paying attention. ‘On the shelf at the top of your wardrobe there’s a box.’

‘Yeah I know.’ You cut in laughing. ‘It’s a box of our childhood memories, I made it Jaemin.’

‘I know.’ Jaemin whispered, the first tear making it’s way down his cheek. ‘But I put something else in there. Can you grab it for me.’

He heard you mutter out a response and waited patiently for your next reply.

‘Ok I found it! It’s a letter right.’ You asked, missing the pause from Jaemin that lasted just a second to long.

‘Yes. I need you to read it.’ Jaemin instructed.

‘Ok I’ll do that. By the way, how late do you think you’re going to be?’ You asked casually, not realising the importance and weight of the letter that you held in your hand.

‘I honestly don’t know y/n. I might not make it back home tonight at all.’ Jaemin heard your laughs stop slightly and your voice cut back through.

‘Not make it home? Jaemin where are you?’ He heard a chuckle in your voice but could tell that this one was far from genuine.

‘Just somewhere I come to think.’ He muttered. ‘Y/n do you remember the promise you made to me that night at my house a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Yeah.’ Your voice was small, fear starting to come through.

‘Good. I need you to keep that promise in mind when you read that letter okay?’ Jaemin’s voice was almost breaking, the tears falling down both cheeks.

‘Jaemin, what’s going on?’ Now he could really hear the panic in your voice. Jaemin knew that if he stayed on the call any longer, he would never be able to hang up.

‘Read the letter y/n. And never forget, I love you.’

---

You threw your phone at the wall in panic, your breath getting caught in your lungs as the letter stared at you from where it sat on your bed. You ran up to it, tearing it open and began to read as fast as you could, tears clouding your vision as you prayed that you had read the situation wrong.

My dearest y/n,

It’s strangely poetic isn’t it? The first letter I ever write to you is probably going to also be my last. I’ve always liked symbolism like that. But of course, you know that, you know everything about me.

I suppose I should start with the most difficult but also the most important part, the apology. Y/n, I’m so sorry that I can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry that I’m leaving you alone. I’m so sorry that I’m not as strong as you are, but I’m just not, and I really can’t take this for much longer. It hurts. Everyday physically hurts and I don’t know how else to stop this pain.

I don’t want you to blame yourself. If you did I would never be able to forgive myself. You’re the reason that I’ve lived as long as I have and I can honestly say that, without you by my side, this would have happened a long time ago. You are the best thing that has ever and could ever have happened to me, and I am eternally grateful that I got to have you in my life.

This isn’t me dying, nor is it me giving up. This is me simply choosing a better life, a life that I can actually manage living and a life that feels worth living. I want you to know that I’m not scared so there’s no need to worry about me. Once I’m out of this place, I’ll be okay. My biggest regret, my only regret, is the fact that I have to leave you behind.

Please keep fighting for me. I know that one day you can make it out of this hellhole and escape the ghosts that haunt us both daily.

And I want you to get your happy every after. You deserve it.

All my heavenly love,

Yours forever,

Jaemin

You hugged the paper to your chest, the tears falling down your face unstoppably. You needed to find him, but the problem was, you had no idea where he was. You thought back to what he said. Somewhere he goes to think...

Your head shot up as you bolted out of your door. You only had one place in mind, and it was a long shot, but you would hate yourself forever if you didn’t at least try.

---

Jaemin stared at the phone in his hands, turning it over and over, contemplating the choices he’s made that led him to this position. He sighed and prepared himself for what’s to come. Instead of putting his phone back in his pocket, he placed it on the tarmac behind him before removing his necklace and gently laying it on top. After all of this, he wanted you to have a memory of him.

He stood up, watching the dark waves beneath him and whispered a few words lost in the winds.

‘Goodbye y/n.’

He ignored the sounds behind him and let go of the beam, preparing himself to fall towards to cold water below that was calling out to him like an icy abyss.

Until two hands grabbed his sweater by the shoulders and pulled him back.

He stumbled backwards, tripping on the safety rail as he was pulled back to the tarmac. He began to struggle, wresting his way out of the person’s grip and trying to make his way back to the edge. It took him a few seconds before the voice that was desperately screaming his name.

‘Jaemin!’ He whirled around and found himself staring into your teary eyes.

‘Y/n?’ He questioned, his voice breaking halfway through.

‘Oh thank god!’ You sobbed, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping him up in the tightest hug possible. ‘You’re alive, thank god you’re alive.’

Jaemin didn’t know how to react, his instincts kicked in and he held you by your waist but didn’t say a word, instead just listening to you cry into his shoulder.

You pulled away, only to whack him, hard, on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ He yelped.

‘Fucking serves you right you dick!’ You shouted. ‘Why would you do that to me?’

‘How did you find me?’ Jaemin stuttered out.

‘I listen to you, that’s how. You told me that this is where you come to think, so I ran.’ You explained, the tears still pouring down your face.

Only then did Jaemin stop for a minute to take in your appearance. Your hair was disheveled, your cheeks red and your chest was heaving. You were clearly exhausted. He forced himself to look at your face, and when he did, he felt his heart break. Tears stained your cheeks, both fresh and dried and your eyes held more pain than Jaemin had ever seen before.

‘Why did you stop me?’ The broken whisper came out of the boy before he could stop it.

‘Because I can’t lose you, I can’t survive without you. If you were to die, I wouldn’t be able to come back from that.’ You admitted to him, moving close to him again.

Jaemin looked into your teary eyes as emotions of his own started to bubble up. He pulled you properly onto his lap, and held you close by your waist, burying his head into your shoulder as he began to cry. You wrapped yourself around him completely, hiding your face in his neck as well and stroking his hair.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Jaemin hiccuped through sobs, trying to hold you closer even though it wasn’t possible.

You just shook your head, tightening your own arms as you both sat there, two broken teenagers crying into each other on the side of a bridge.

‘Jaemin...’ You began, waiting for his reply before continuing.

‘Yeah?’ He whimpered.

‘I need you to promise me something.’ You said and felt him nod into your shoulder. ‘Anytime, and I mean anytime, you ever feel like doing something like this to yourself again, come to me. Please just come to me and I’ll sit with you and talk with you for as long as you want or need. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.’ Your voice began to break again at the end of your confession, causing Jaemin to pull his head out of your shoulder and look you directly in your eyes.

‘I promise.’ He uttered. And he meant it, he really would. After seeing how affected you were, he knew he could never do anything like this to you again.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you whispered the sentence that became his motivation to survive.

‘Jaemin... there’s no happy ever after for me if you’re not there.’

Would you run away from me?

Jaemin stuck to his word, always coming to you anytime he felt feelings similar to the ones that drew him out to that bridge. You didn’t mind, you were often glad to wake up to a call from him at 2am because it meant that a situation like that wouldn’t happen again. You were sure you could survive it if it did.

Three years later and life wasn’t any better. The 14 year old kids who found shelter in a playground were gone and replace with 17 year old teenagers, who were looking for an escape anywhere they could find it.

Last month, Jaemin’s mother passed away. It was quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to the two of you, as Jaemin’s mother was pretty much the only figure in your lives who was even slightly paternal. She was the positivity that you both needed, and without her, the two of you were feeling very lost.

Jaemin was now stuck with his father who, now that his mother wasn’t around to make an impression on, had turned back into the cruel, careless man who ran out on the boy all those years ago. As for you, your mother had found out about your father’s cheating. And it turns out, it wasn’t the first time he had done that. He refused to give your mother the freedom she so desperately wanted, so she searched for it somewhere else. You had walked into your house one day, only to walk in on your mother doing Cocain off the kitchen table, trying to find the release that was now only available in drugs.

She had become an empty shell of herself and you often found her drugs lying around the house. Normally you just ignored them, but for some reason, when you found a small bag of Ecstasy in your bathroom, you kept it. You didn’t know why, but it was always there when you reached into your pocket.

You were getting ready to go out with Jaemin, the two of you heading to a party close by. You pulled on your jacket and headed towards your door. You turned back, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything and your eyes landed on the small bag of Ecstasy that was currently lying on your bedside table. After a short deliberation you walked back into your room, swiped it off the counter, and headed out to your party. What’s the worst that could happen?

---

You and Jaemin laughed as the music deafened you. You were drunk beyond the point of no return, and you knew that you wouldn’t be remembering any of this in the morning. The music turned from a heavy beat drop EDM track, to a slightly more sensual number and you, in your drunken state, had no control over your instincts. You pulled Jaemin closer by the neck and wrapped your arms around him. You registered the familiar feeling of his arms snaking their way around your waist and you sank into him more. He moved his head to your neck and nipped gently at the skin there.

You were too wrapped up in the music and being close to each other to notice anyone else around you. You lifted your head off his chest and looked at him. He followed your actions and soon you found yourself staring into Jaemin’s brown orbs, completely mesmerised by the colour in front of you. His hot breath was fanning your face and you found yourself subconsciously leaning in.

‘Yo!’ A random guy yelled, approaching the two of you. You leaned away from Jaemin and turned to the guy who appeared out of no where. ‘Don’t mean to interrupt bro, but do either of you want some Molly? We got masses spare and it’s going out for free to anyone here.’ He held out a bag with some pills in it.

You stared into it, licking you lips at the thought of being even more out of it than you already were.

‘Go on baby, you know you want to’ The unnamed guy in front of encouraged.

You were too far gone to comment on the pet name that, if you were sober would have made your skin crawl, and instead reached into the bag and pulled one out. You surveyed it in your fingers and made eye contact with Jaemin. He stared at you for a second before pulling out one of his own.

He reached forward, nodding at you and you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue slightly. Jaemin placed his pill on his before repeating the actions himself, allowing you to give him your pill. You both swallowed and fell back into each other’s embrace.

You weren’t sure what you and Jaemin were anymore. He was still the one person you felt safe around, the one person that you wanted in your future, but he had also become so much more than your best friend. Nothing had ever gone further than a few drunk kisses and you never had the courage to ask him what they meant the next morning. All you knew, was that you thought of him as more and... the drug was really starting to take effect.

The surroundings faded into an almost blur, yet the colours became much more vibrant at the same time. The only thing that was fully in focus was Jaemin’s face in front of you, more importantly, his lips. You found it hard enough to stop yourself staring at them when you were sober, meaning it was twenty times harder when you were this far gone.

You didn’t waste any time, choosing to immediately move towards him, pressing your lips onto his. He quickly responded, kissing you back. The alcohol and cigarettes you had shared throughout the night were the only thing you could taste, yet, somehow, you could still taste Jaemin.

There was still so much of him in the kiss that you needed more and more of it. You could feel Jaemin thinking the same thing, his kisses getting more and more desperate, before he broke away and leaned down to your ear.

‘Shall we get out of here?’ He asked over the music.

Instead of straining your voice by replying, you nodded, a grin taking over your face. Jaemin slipped his hand into yours and began to pull you out of the warehouse. You made your way outside, stumbling slightly on the stairs before you were blinded by red and blue lights.

‘Shit.’ Jaemin murmured, pulling you out of sight of the police car heading towards the front entrance.

‘Seems like we got out just in time.’ You slurred slightly and Jaemin nodded in agreement. The two of you ran down a side passage before being greeted with the metal fence that would give you a short cut back home.

Jaemin climbed up first, offering a hand for you which you gladly took and helping you over. You landed safely on the other side and began to walk off, laughing at the close call. If you were more sober than you would have begun to feel bad for all those still stuck in the warehouse, most of them definitely being charged with drug possession, but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything but you and Jaemin.

‘Y/n, I don’t think we should do anything when we get back.’ Jaemin blurted out of the blue.

‘Why not? It’s just fun isn’t it.’ You shrugged.

‘But if anything else happens between us, I’d prefer us to remember it.’ Jaemin said, his words serious but the drugs in his system forcing a laugh out of him.

‘I’m always gonna remember you...’ You whined, leaning in to him more.

‘Y/n we should have control over what we’re doing and saying. Sober consent is needed you know?’ Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from laughing now, causing you to start as well.

‘No, you’re right.’ You giggled, trying to calm yourself down. ‘It’s not a good idea. Don’t want to ruin our happy ever after.’ You nudged him.

Jaemin scoffed, rolling his eyes at that.

‘Happy ever after? Really? Come on y/n I thought we were beyond that.’ He looked down at you, suddenly making you feel very small.

The drugs and alcohol in your system were making your adrenaline pump, giving you a major confidence boost, something that you assume was also happening to Jaemin right now.

‘Now you don’t believe in it? Now it’s not okay to want that? What about when I didn’t want that? No, if one of us believes in it so does the other.’ You stood your ground, staring back at the boy in front of you.

‘Grow up.’ Jaemin spat, making you visibly flinch at the tone he used on you. ‘We’re not children anymore, happy ever after isn’t found in a town like this.’

‘God you don’t have to be a pessimist all the time, you used to be so positive.’ You muttered, venom lacing your words.

‘Positive? Neither of us have ever been positive or happy in our entire lives! Do you know why y/n? Because our lives suck. Maybe happy ever after doesn’t exist. Or at least, maybe it does for some, but for others, like us, maybe it’s just the thing that we read in stories, something for us to dream about. Something to distract us from the reality of what really happens. Where things just end. You don’t always get that moment, that final showdown, the big turning point where you realise how to fix everything and its all gonna be okay. Sometimes things can’t be fixed. Sometimes things aren’t going to be okay. Sometimes life just ends.’ Jaemin was full on yelling at you by the time he finished his speech.

His final words hit you like a ton of bricks, sobering you up quickly. You were still very drunk, but your mind was clear enough to read between the lines and realise that he was talking about his mum. You stepped forwards gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder.

‘Jaemin-’

‘Get off me!’ He bellow, throwing you hand off him with such force that you stumbled to the ground. Your body was still foggy, causing you to hit the floor with a much harder impact than you normally would have.

You lifted your head off and stared at Jaemin who was looking at you, an expression of pure horror on his face.

‘Y/n-’ He slurred but you scrambled away from him.

‘Stay away from me!’ You shouted, your voice cracking as the tears easily fell down your face. You felt like the same 7 year old girl who took her first hit from her father. ‘Don’t step any closer.’

Jaemin put his hands up in surrender, his face and voice pleading.

‘Y/n, please, I didn’t mean it, I would never hurt you. You have to believe me.’ He was begging you, almost on his knees.

You stared down at him, the boy you loved in more ways than one. The boy who had always made you feel safe. But right now, he didn’t make you feel any of those things. You felt as though you didn’t know him at all.

You turned on your hell and ran. You left Jaemin standing alone in the dark and ran the full way home. You burst in through your front door, ignoring the yell from your father about disrespecting his privacy and headed straight up to your room. You shut the door behind you and fell onto your bed.

You sat straight up again, the drugs taking over your system and pumping you with adrenaline. There was just one problem, it wasn’t enough. Your hands fumbled in your pocket and brought out the little clear bag with your mother’s pills in them. You popped some more in your mouth, relishing in the alien feeling of happiness that it brought to you.

You watched as the bag started to swirl around, the colours dancing in front of your eyes. Time seemed to fade out of existence and you felt yourself completely disassociate with the world around you.

You stood up, hoping to go to the bathroom but as you attempted to move you found your mind incredibly foggy. You shook your head, attempting to get rid of it, but it persisted. This wasn’t the same, slightly unaware fo your surroundings foggy that you had felt in the warehouse, but instead an, everything around you is fading out of existence kind of foggy, and it was staring to scare you. A sudden chill violent shook you, making you whole body tremble where you stood.

You felt yourself begin to sweat and you pulled at the top that you were wearing. The collar seemed to be getting tighter as the room and floor began to spin. You clawed at your chest as you reached the door to your bathroom, falling over in front of it.

You felt hands on your shoulders and you flinched away in fear, until your brain registered who they belonged to and you slumped into Jaemin. He kicked open the bathroom door and pulled you in after him, sitting you against the bathtub and getting you a glass of water. He pushed the cup to your lips but you flinched away, the thought of drinking any water making you feel physically ill, yet Jaemin didn’t let up.

He eventually got a small amount of water down your throat, and you realised just how parched you were. You grabbed the cup out of his hands and began to gulp at the cold liquid. You pulled at your top again, crying out in frustration when it didn’t tear off you. Jaemin noticed your struggle and grabbed the hem on it, gently pulling it over your head. He had only got it halfway off when your arms took over, aggressively ripping it off. You took heavy breaths as Jaemin fetched you another glass of water.

You sat on the cold floor of that bathroom for who knows how many hours, drinking water, crying and clawing at the aching parts of your body. By the time you eventually started coming back around, you could see Jaemin’s fingers uncontrollably tapping anywhere they could reach. He was still on the come down from his high, yet refused to leave your side.

You reached out a feeble hand to him, and he quickly pulled himself close, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head on his chest.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He whispered to you. ‘If I hadn’t overreacted then you wouldn’t be in this position.’ He placed a kiss on the top of your head, making any previous fears you had had about him evaporate. You knew that you had your old Jaemin back, the one who would do anything to protect you.

‘It was the drugs, not you.’ You croaked out. ‘But promise me something?’

‘Anything.’ Jaemin replied, his fingers finding their way into your hair to run through it soothingly.

‘Neither of us do drugs again.’ You let out a hoarse chuckle.

‘Deal.’ He said with absolute certainty in his voice. He leaned down again, giving you another kiss on the top of your head.

‘Jaemin?’ You whimpered.

‘Yeah?’ He responded.

‘I don’t know how to be happy, how am I ever going to get a happy ever after?’ You asked him, the question spilling out of your exhausted state before you passed out in his arms.

Jaemin was almost thankful that you had passed out immediately after asking that because, for the first time in his life, Jaemin didn’t know how to reply.

---

It had been three days since your encounter with drugs, and Jaemin hadn’t left your side. You were so thankful that he hadn’t however, as the constant drug use in your house done by your mother, was making it difficult for you to go about your everyday life without having flashbacks to that night. That was the worst you had felt, physically, in a very long time.

Jaemin had gone through your entire room and bathroom with you, gutting the areas of any alcohol and drugs. He also removed any substances or objects that can be used against yourself, making sure that he could protect you as best as possible. You knew that without him, you would never have had the strength to do any of this.

Even though he had seriously scared you on that night, every time you looked at him you saw the person he truly was, not who the drugs had made him become. You knew that that night you had seen the worst side of Jaemin, the side of him that he kept locked in a cage so tightly, he hoped he would never let it free. But when under the influence, he hadn’t had control and the anger inside him had reared it’s head.

He wasn’t perfect. He was far from perfect. He was sad and angry and, by every definition of the word, he was broken. But he was yours. He always had been yours. You had seen him through the absolute best and the complete and utter worst. And he had seen you through yours. You had seen him when his father walked back into his life without warning, the look of betrayal that took over his features as he stared at the man in front of him. He had seen you when your father first hit you, the fear in your eyes and the bruises on your body, you didn’t trust anyone else with them. You had seen him when he tried to end his life, the utter pain and heartbreak in his eyes when he told you he couldn’t handle it anymore. And he had seen you three days ago, shivering and crying on the floor while you tried desperately to hold onto yours.

It wasn’t romantic. Nothing about what the two of you had gone through screamed romance. It was hell, pure unedited hell, but somehow, somewhere along the way, you fell hard for your best friend.

He was safety, warmth, home and hope and rolled into one. If there was anything that you had learnt so far in life, it’s that as long as you had Jaemin, you could handle anything.

---

You walked towards the park, listening as the swings slightly creaked in the breeze.

‘You know if we’d come here a couple of hours later this would be a horror movie in the making.’ Jaemin’s sudden voice from behind you made you jump.

You turned around to look at him, a smile on your face.

‘So this isn’t you coming to murder me? God don’t get my hopes up.’ You joked, watching as you got a smile in return and he moved towards you. You both sat down on the swings next to each other, sitting in silence for a moment.

‘How are you feeling?’ Jaemin asked, concern clear on his face.

‘Better.’ You replied honestly, sending him a reassuring smile. ‘How are you doing? Your dad still being a pain?’

‘Yeah.’ Jaemin sighed. ‘He’s a nightmare, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’

‘I’m proud of you.’ You told him, your voice quietening as if it was a confession.

‘I know.’ Jaemin smiled. ‘I’m proud of you too.’

‘I know.’ You whispered, blinking away the tears that were threatening to gather at this moment. You knew he was proud of you, but actually hearing someone say the words out loud reached your heart. ‘Jaemin, we’re still getting out of here right?’

‘Of course. Just me and you.’ Jaemin nodded.

‘Somewhere no one knows us.’ You found yourself say the same wishes that the two of you had been making consistently throughout the years.

‘Where we can start fresh.’ Jaemin murmured, watching the clouds pass.

‘Somewhere we can be more than this place allowed us to be.’ You closed your eyes wistfully, thinking of this paradise.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You opened your eyes at Jaemin’s words, only to find him already looking at you.

‘Somewhere we can be together.’ You repeated, your body taking over your mind as you began to stand.

Jaemin followed your actions, lifting himself off the swing he was perched on. He moved towards you, reaching out with an arm and you stepped closer to him.

He pulled you in, one arm around your waist and the other cupping your face and he looked down at you. You fit so perfectly in his arms, as if you were made to be there. Jaemin’s eyes glanced down at your lips, and you nodded slightly, giving him permission.

Jaemin leant down, pausing for half a second before finally closing the gap. He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with all the love he had in his body. You kissed him back, desperately hoping to convey your feelings for him through the kiss. You pressed your body into him, feeling Jaemin’s arm wrap further around your waist in response

You broke away slowly, keeping your faces close as you both gently caught your breath. Your eyes opened, looking up into the brown ones that had always brought you comfort. You found Jaemin looking down at you, with so much love on his face that it made you shy.

You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face, the feeling of happiness that you had been deprived of your entire life, finally taking over your being and filling you to the brim.

You leant back into Jaemin, wanting more of this feeling that only he could provide. He was more addicting than any drug you’d ever taken and more intoxicating than any alcohol you’d ever consumed. You were completely and utterly addicted to the feeling of being loved and being in love.

Would you run away with me?

Three years later, and the two of you have fulfilled your promise and said goodbye to the town you grew up in. You felt freer than you had ever felt before in your entire life, and you never wanted to lose that feeling. The ghosts that had haunted you everyday were now nowhere to be found, allowing both you and Jaemin to start a completely new chapter together.

A couple of months after the death of Jaemin’s mother, lawyers came knocking at his door. They claimed to have her last will and testimony, something that Jaemin’s father didn’t know existed. It turns out that all her assets were left to Jaemin, and since Jaemin was now an adult it meant that he got everything. He ended up having the house, the car and a couple of shares that his mother had stored away. This angered Jaemin’s father immensely, but at the end of the day there was nothing he could do.

It finally seemed as though Jaemin’s troubles had a solution. His father had never gained any legal rights to Jaemin after relinquishing them when he left, so there was nothing the man could do to try and stay in his life and gain any access to the assets.

He was gone by the next morning.

A much happier Jaemin appeared at your door, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he told you the news. You couldn’t believe it. For the first time, things started to actually go your way. Then, Jaemin told you of his plan, it was only thanks to this plan of his that you were ever able to actually get away.

He put the house up for sale and cashed in the shares. The money he would gain from both of these gave you the chance to find a place for the two of you to live. You decided that, as soon as the house sold, you would get in the car and go.

The two of you searched and searched for the area you would move to, wanting to find the right place and, after a while, you stumbled upon it. An apartment just on the edge of the city. Close enough that it would easy to get in for any job you managed to get, yet far enough out that you still felt the privacy of it just being the two of you.

You started looking for jobs in the city, managing to find an opening at a large company. You quickly interviewed for them and were waiting to hear back from them. Jaemin was overjoyed with this news, it looked as though nothing could go wrong.

Then your mother passed away.

It was ruled as an overdose, the copious amounts that she was taking eventually became too much for her. Your father was in charge of organising her funeral, but he did nothing. It ultimately fell to you, and with Jaemin’s help, there was a small ceremony to lay her to rest. You knew you should probably feel worse about it than you did, but over the past ten years you had drifted so far away from her, that it felt as though you were burying a stranger.

Arriving back home after the funeral felt strange. Even though you felt nothing for your mother, you were still glad that you went. However, instead of mourning her death like everyone else there, you mourned the woman who was lost in the haze of drugs and abuse. You mourned the woman who used to sing you to sleep or bake you cookies on a sunny afternoon. You mourned the woman who, sadly, died a long time before her body did.

Your father took this as an excuse to turn his rage onto you. The morning after the funeral, he raised his hand at you, swinging blindly. But the blow he landed on your side was nothing compared to the counter attack that Jaemin launched on him. Jaemin had only been coming around to pick you up and witnessed first hand what your father was capable of. He called the police and you both watched as the man was dragged away in cuffs.

His trial was short. Like Jaemin had said, everyone knew everything about everyone in this town, so your father’s tendency to lash out wasn’t unknown. You watched him with no remorse, wishing him to stay out of your sight, mind and heart for the rest of time.

Then it was only you and Jaemin.

Like Jaemin, you gained ownership of your house and assets, allowing you to sell them as soon as possible. And, once the final offer on yours and Jaemin’s houses were accepted, you did as you’d decided to and climbed into his car together and took off, watching the town you grew up in shrink in the rear view mirror until it eventually disappeared.

You left everything behind, choosing to only bring with you a couple of prized possessions and each other. There wasn’t anything about that town that you would miss or regret leaving behind. Except, maybe that park.

There were whispers everywhere you went, reminding you of everything you had gone through and it was impossible to escape from anything when you were constantly surrounded by it. You couldn’t cross the bridge without thinking of Jaemin, you couldn’t pass the warehouse without having flashbacks of the night you both took Ecstasy and you couldn’t even walk around you own house without thinking of all the things you’d seen there.

So you ran away.

You often thought back to the days when you were children, playing Peter Pan in your garden and praying to grow up so that you could get your happy ever after.

Well, here you are, all grown up and still searching.

You’ve learnt that things take time to fall into place. Sometimes you have to wait a lot longer than you want to, a lot longer than you think you’re capable of, in order to find that perfect moment. You’ve learnt that you cannot be brave, without letting yourself be vulnerable. But you’ve also learnt, that when you’re vulnerable around the right person, it’s easy.

You don’t know what’s going to happen next. And, to be honest, you don’t want to. Life is an adventure for you now, and it’s one that you’re enjoying living. You know that you haven’t reached your happy ever after yet, and that’s simply because, your story isn’t over. But you didn’t mind, because you weren’t searching for it anymore. As long as you had Jaemin, happy ever after was always going to be right there.

219 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 4 years ago

Photo

Planet of Dinosaurs

This movie is blessed with some pretty cool stop-motion dinosaurs and absolutely nothing else, and it’s got a Rifftrack. That’s… that’s it, really. Press play.

The spaceship Odyssey suffers a reactor meltdown and blows up with only just enough warning for the crew to launch a single lifeboat shuttle. Luckily, there’s a life-bearing planet nearby where the spandex-suited survivors can land, but unluckily, it turns out to be inhabited by giant reptiles, not unlike the prehistoric fauna of Earth! There’s also a spider the size of a Yorkshire terrier, for no particular reason.

There’s not really any plot from there, it’s just bad actors shooting toy laser guns at plastic dinosaurs, interspersed with Rock Climbing. At last the characters manage to kill the inevitable T-rex that’s been threatening them, whereupon they declare themselves to have conquered this planet.

There are a few attempts at human conflict but they’re pretty watery. The first possible b-plot has to do with the vice president of the space-shipping company, Mr. Baylor, who was along on this trip for some reason and is among the survivors. So they’re not just stranded on Dinosaur Planet, they’re stranded on Dinosaur Planet with their boss. He’s a jackass and his secretary quickly gets fed up with him and quits, which doesn’t do her a whole lot of good since they are, as I mentioned, stranded on Dinosaur Planet. The writers run out of things to do with Baylor about halfway through the movie and kill him off, to everybody’s relief.

The second involves the bearded guy, Jim, who’s starting to take issue with Captain Lee’s command style. Lee is trying to keep them all alive and uninjured until help can arrive. Jim doesn’t think help is coming and wants to go full caveman and start slaughtering things. It starts to look like he’s gonna foment a mutiny, but eventually he and Lee overcome their differences and come up with a plan to kill the T-rex.

Finally, of course, the survivors inevitably pair off in heterosexual couples. Sure is lucky there weren’t more men than women or vice-versa. Very fortunate nobody’s left with no-one to bone but someone they’ve never gotten along with. Quite improbable that nobody on the entire command crew was gay. When one member of one of these couples becomes a dinosaur victim, the other thoughtfully dies a few scenes later, not because he commits suicide out of guilt or something, but just by coincidence.

One thing the movie actually does pretty well is day-for-night. It’s not great, in that you can still tell it was shot in the daytime through a filter, but they chose the right filter to cool down the warm tones of the sunlight, and had the sense to keep the sky out of shot. It never looks like somebody just turned the brightness on your screen way down and called it ‘night’, and I’ve seen so much worse that I want to at least acknowledge their competence.

The other thing Planet of Dinosaurs does well is the actual dinosaurs, which are a lot of fun. They’re lumpy and out of date, but some real care seems to have gone into building the detailed puppets and their movements are fluid and sometimes very lifelike. There’s a nice variety of them, too. As well as the T-rex there’s a smaller therapod that might be intended to be an Allosaurus, a couple of little Ornithomimus-like animals, a Brontosaurus complete with the wrong head, a Stegosaurus, a Centrosaurus, and some kind of ankylosaur. In real life these are a jumble of Hell Creek and Morrison dinosaurs who never met each other, but eh, it’s supposed to be another planet, it’s cool.

Unfortunately, there are several points where the effects people try to show us something they probably should have implied instead. I commend their ambition, but knowing your limits is a big part of making special effects work. In the first episode of Walking with Dinosaurs, the Postosuchus attacks a Placerias… but we don’t see as much of this as we think we do because our view is blocked by the body of the prey animal. They knew their CGI wasn’t up to making the attack look good, so they tricked us into thinking we saw more than we did. In Planet of Dinosaurs, a character stabs an injured Ornithomimus with a spear, and it’s painfully obvious that the stop-motion creature was just superimposed on top. They could easily have set up the shot so we didn’t have to actually see it go in, but they didn’t.

The dinosaurs are clearly what they spent their budget on, which was wise – as I said in my review of Twelve to the Moon, if you can only afford to show us one cool thing, best make it the one in the title. Sadly, when I say spent the budget I mean the entire budget. The rest of Planet of Dinosaurs looks like it was made in somebody’s backyard using stuff from the garden shed. The spaceship that briefly appears in the opening had a previous career as a vacuum cleaner. When it ‘explodes’ it just flickers red and vanishes with no further attempt at an effect.

The costumes look kind of like if they made the original Star Trek series ten years later but on the same budget, with producers who didn’t think they wanted this to be a porno but preferred to keep the option open. The designated Himbo, Chuck, doffs his shirt within the first few minutes of the film and never gets it back. The blonde who goes for a swim and is eaten by some water monster was wearing a bikini under her uniform for some reason. By the end, they’re all dressed in cartoon caveman garb and Chuck is still shirtless.

Besides the dinosaurs, the main effect we see is the laser guns, which are among the most ineffective sci-fi weapons ever committed to screen. They fire a beam of very slow red light which does absolutely nothing to any of the dinosaurs, even when the characters observe that one has been injured. I think this is supposed to show us that the animals are tougher than the technology, but for that to work we would have needed to see a laser used effectively, perhaps to destroy something blocking the path. Without that, we have no basis for comparison.

If this were all Planet of Dinosaurs did wrong, it would be a bad movie classic. Even the abysmally bad acting has its funny moments. What ruins the enjoyment is the movie’s lack of a proper story.

Planet of Dinosaurs is supposed to be a Cast Away or Robinson Crusoe sort of a film, about unprepared people thrust into the wilderness and forced to survive as best they can. Such a narrative doesn’t need an overarching conflict per se. It can be a series of smaller survival stories strung together, but Planet of Dinosaurs doesn’t manage to do that. The ‘plot’ with Baylor depends on him being a petulant fool, and the characters are not sufficiently well-developed for us to have any interest in the ‘love stories’ that don’t affect the overall course of events.

The rivalry between Captain Lee and Bearded Guy Jim turns on how to keep the rest of the survivors safe from the large predators in the area, particularly the T-rex. Lee wants everybody to hole up on a rocky plateau behind a ridiculously flimsy stockade to keep the animals out, while Jim wants to hunt down and kill the dinosaurs, to teach them to fear humans as wolves do on Earth. The main problem with this is that we just don’t see enough of the predatory dinosaurs to justify this treatment of them.

We see the T-rex fairly early in the film, and it fuels the humans’ decision to see high ground where they hope such a large animal will not go. The much smaller Allosaurus shows up at one point to make a woman scream, is ‘injured’ with a laser, and the T-rex then eats it. And just before the climax, the T-rex breaks through the stockade to chow down on Baylor’s secretary. In between these incidents, we do not see and rarely even hear about these animals. If we’re supposed to imagine them constantly lurking around outside, the movie makes no effort to reinforce that impression. The T-rex is treated as the Final Boss, but the movie just hasn’t earned that.

At the end we see the survivors a few years later. They’re building a farm, making their own clothes, living off the land, and raising their children. One of the women asks the other if she thinks they’re ever going to be rescued, and the other replies that she doesn’t think it matters anymore. The implication is that they’re now happy here. This is really not a bad little denouement, and ends the movie on a warm, optimistic note.

If you want to see some ridiculous 70s mustaches and ugly 70s dinosaurs, you’ll probably have fun with Planet of Dinosaurs. Unfortunately, the movie was a little too ambitious in some places and not ambitious enough in others. If I’d seen it at the age of six I probably would have become immediately obsessed with it for the dinosaurs alone, but as an adult I’m afraid my standards are just a little too high. Unable to afford to be good, and unable to commit to being bad, it’s just another meh.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #planet of dinosaurs #rock climbing #70s #dinosaurs make everything better

30 notes · View notes

jeeperso · 3 years ago

Text

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 1

"Killing's not working and murders all we’re good at!" "I’m good at lots of…" "And murders all we’re good at."

"Chipmunk droppings, I just got this nice cloak and my daggers enchanted. This stinks like a badger who hasn't bathed in months."

“I can do horrible. But, sure, whatever.” "I'm sure there are easier ways to get a harem for yourself, that don't come with as many strings attached."

"Wrong head. This one is much more swelled."

"Let's hope if we ignore it then it will do the same and then bugger off." “We def gonna have to kill it by end of day.” "Worse, I'd hate for us to agitate it and it turn out to be some sort of.... delivery head..." “It’s what I’d use for messages if I was a forked up Wizard.”

"You don't intimidate me." He says, clearly intimidated.

“If it makes you feel better, now I only have to roll one body into the ditch.”

"We've no quarrel with you. Stand aside, or barter like...and he ran off..."

"There we go. Nice and non-violent." “You mispronounced 'boring'.”

"I'm going to keep a look out in case someone competent tries to ambush us."

“Besides, I’m like… a free lance peacekeeping agent. For certain definitions of peace. And keeping. And all the other words really.”

"Okay, just what is that, an ogre, a hill giant, or something else?" “Can I kill this one?”

"A silver piece says Tiny is as likely to attack them as us."

"Unfortunately we were testing a modified growth potion one day and I drew the short straw."

"I figured as much. You're ill equipped, your tactics are amateurish, and you don't respond well when things don't go your way. Screams desperate with few options." "You don't have to rub it in man." “You tried to rob us. Twice. And we didn’t kill you. Even though I kinda want to.”

“I dunno, the one with horns is screaming that he’s got some cool shit we can steal.” "I am Nima Galzona, Necromancer, and apprentice to the great Hazlik." “Jonni Humantorch, genie fucker.”

"I'm...not comfortable riding inside a giant mouth. Bad experience with a dire mole once."

"Do necromancers just lose the ability to smell? Or they just get so used to the scent of decay that it doesn't bother them any more?"

"So anyone else get the feeling that 'murders' is going to be a drastic understatement about what's wrong here? I don't get the impression that a crime spree merits wizard attention."

Today however the streets are strangely sparse, as you head to where the caravan usually sets up, you find out why. “Please be fire, please be fire, please…”

Death to all witches and workers of magic, repent and pray the gods show thee mercy, for I have none. --The Witchfinder. “Oh, sweet! Someone they’ll give me money to set on fire!”

“I don’t use magic. The universe just knows I’m awesome.”

"Oh boy... shits about to get political." Jonni stops and puts the torches she was gonna start selling back.

At this point Nima turns around and unleashes a massive skull shaped fireball into the air high above the crowd. “Nice add on. 9/10.”

“Which remind me, if you cast speak with dead, and speak with plants, can you talk to chairs?”

"I threatened to pick you up like an angry poodle once, am not afraid to do it again."

"I'll go along, someone needs to make sure Jonni doesn't set stuff on fire we need intact."

"I wonder what kind of experiment it must have been to have so many people..." "I can guarantee you won't like the answer." OOC: Let's be optimistic. Maybe it was an experiment in self-sustainable farming to improve the local ecosystem. OOC: Narrator: it was not.

"Why can't we ever go anywhere nice? I can vaguely remember nice places used to exist somewhere at some point."

"Okay, who broke the moon?" OOC: Who knows in this savage land of sorcery and super science. "Wait, he can break a moon! Umm, we should avoid him for a long, long time." "This is his domain after all. That or some race of lunatic ratmen who thought it was made of Ruminating Rock."

Just a single row of normal sized bricks, about ankle height. "Its a trap, get an axe."

“Marsh, we can make you a new hand, right?”

“Shove it in.....Are we still saying 'phrasing'?”

"Goggles on, things are weird." “Here weird or 'coke party in the City of Brass' weird?”

"You know how I was wondering about why we never go anywhere nice? Well now we are somewhere nice and I don't trust it at all."

“Hey, so what are you doing after work?” Pause. "I do not have that information." “Well, this is Hell, let’s burn it down. Burn it all down!”

"Hold on, I speak attraction." (POSTER'S NOTE: As in theme park, not sex.)

"That information is classified. Please give administrator passcode." "A Wizard did it." "Passcode accepted." "I can't believe that worked." “My second guess was ‘ruminating powder.’”

"Yeah.. The others seem to be currently living-impaired.." “Let’s check my newest victim first then.”

“Hey, slim! Look alive! I wanna discuss mass burial techniques!”

"Talk! Fast! Or steam loud!”

"It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to murder a defenseless mage in cold blood. It is wrong to..."

OOC: Marshal is of the opinion we don't kill him for a long time.

OOC: So what this session has taught us is like everywhere else in Ravenloft, The Weird Wizard Wasteland SUCKS!

Gorbash: okay… so… how do we finally get out of here? Domain lord: Only the Dark Powers could let you out. Edmund: So we need to talk to them. Domain Lord: Literally no one ever has. You’d have to cause a catastrophic amount of attention to maybe get their attention. Jonni: …. My hour has come at last. "Time to kill a monster. And it is self-defense if he summons a monster intent on murdering us." “Sure. Let’s go with that.” "Hi, if you are watching this. I am dead. I assume you killed me, but that was a mistake..." "It really wasn't." "Must run faster. Must run faster. Not getting caught in another dimensional implosion. Must run faster." Escape collapsing grad thesis, first! “Yeah, let’s let Marsh calm him down while we check to see if that loser left anything interesting out here." You find a very interesting ant. The tiny, angry sun is back in the sky. "Don't make eye contact..." "That’s my purse! I don’t know you!” Jonni somehow kicks the sun in the balls. "Beware! We have fortified waffles! They can concuss at 50 paces." “Crab people. Or more fucked up Wizard experiments. 50/50 odds.” OOC: Doctors without Domain Borders. "We only want the food and clothes." "And we just want shinies.” "Money is no use to us, no one would take it from us." “Oh, you just gotta know how to talk to them. Grab em by the short and hairies first.” "As said, my waffles are well fortified. They can be used as throwing stones." "And as a professional, I would advise not swimming five hours after eating one." "Really Jonni, I don't mind the way you speak.. but it might not hurt to try to limit the goading to people who CAN'T wipe us from existence?" “Killing me only proves I was right.” “Hey, we were bonding over our opinion on casual murder!” OOC: Her two diametrically opposed sides! Her evil side! And her indifferent side! "We never truly die, this will avail you nothing." “Yeah? I bet kinda dying still hurts like a mother forker though.” OOC: Slab of iron with which I have lived, strike now one last heart of dickery… “Sorry not sorry we killed your folks!”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

9 notes · View notes

luminouslion · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober prompt 9: Self Sacrifice

Happy Halloween everyone!!!! I hope you all are having a nice day! Enjoy the last prompt for my whumptober event!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34841422

Pairing: Asta & Noelle

Summary: The Diamond Kingdom attacks the Clover Kingdom! What happens if they use a giant Diamond Monster that none spells seem to affect?

Disclaimer: This plays some time in the future which is why Asta acts more mature!

Warnings: major character death

Word count: 427

All around him people were screaming and dozens of attack spells were being exchanged.

It was a normal, peaceful day as suddenly the diamond kingdom attacked them. Even so all the magic knight squads were helping defend the clover kingdom the diamond kingdom currently had the upper hand.

One of the mages had created a giant monster out of diamonds and none of the clover mages‘ attack spells did anything to it. No one knew where the mage was that summoned the monster either.

The monster slowly made its way towards the capital. They had to act soon if they wanted to protect the citizens.

Asta looked the monster up and down. He knew he was the only one that could defeat it. If he did a bull thrust right through it it would just shader ein thousand pieces, but the shrapnels would probably pierce right through him as well.

He looked back, seeing Yuno and Noelle standing behind him.

„Don’t do anything stupid.“ Yuno said before going back to the fight.

„You can’t do this Asta. Don’t even think about it, you will die!“ Noelle shouted at him.

He saw tears forming in her eyes. This was so uncharacteristically for her that he was taken aback for a few seconds.

He walked towards her and put a hand on her cheek.

„I know that. But I also know that I have to do this. For the kingdom, citizens and for you.“ he said before carefully kissing her forehead, „I love you, Noelle.“

„I love you, too, Asta.“ She responded quietly while watching him run towards the Diamond monster.

While Asta sprinted towards the monster he changed into his devil form. He jumped into the air and put both of his swords in front of him.

He saw the monster putting an arm out to protect itself but it was of no use.

Asta closed his eyes and pierced right through the monster‘s arm and shortly later through its body.

He could feel a thousand cuts burning all over his body.

As he slowly opened his eyes he could see the moon right above him and millions of shrapnels reflecting its light.

While he fell towards the ground he couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t smell or feel anything either. He only focused on the beauty he was looking at.

Tears were forming in his eyes and a sad smile started to form on his lips.

„So this is it. This is the end.“ he whispered to himself as he slowly closed his eyes for one last time.

#mels whumptober #whumptober #black clover #asta black clover #noelle silva #black clover noelle #hurt Asta #Asta whump #whump #protective asta #protective Noelle #more mature Asta #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Another One Bites the... Endrega?

Gif source

Pairing: Platonic Geralt of Rivia (Game ver.) x Peter Parker (T.H. ver) Rating: Mature for violence Words: 2590 POV: Third Summary: After losing his parents, Peter makes the journey to Novigrad to live with aunt May and uncle Ben. However, the road is not without dangers. Fortunately, Peter has lady luck on his side. Note: Last of the crossover works! Also that spider got to bite Peter so often. I pulled on uno reverse card on that shit. Tags: action, fantasy, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, fight scenes, monsters and mild Witcher 3 spoilers of what happens in Novigrad

Branches cracked beneath his feet, as he ran as fast as he could through the forest. The moon illuminated the night, showing him the way through the bed of leaves that covered his vision of the night sky. Peter was unsure if he should scream for help or if that would attract even more of these spider-like creatures that chased him. Lady luck was on his side as he saw light flickering in the distance. A smile spread over his face as he put the last of his energy into getting help.

Peter screamed for help, when he approached the light. A figure with white hair that reflected the moonlight stood up from near the campfire. Yellow eyes made themselves clear in the dark and Peter knew he was saved. He ran past the man, stopping when he was behind him. The witcher grabbed his silver sword and Peter watched him slay the beasts, though not without struggle. Peter had not looked behind since he last caught a glimpse of one of those things, so only now he realised there were at least a dozen of them and the witcher struggled taking that many all at once.

The blade swung with finesse through the air, the peeking moonlight reflecting off it, until it got stained with monster blood. One of the spider-like creatures bit the witcher in the leg. He tried to shake it off as his blade slashed through the other monsters. Even Peter could tell that the witcher had to free his leg soon or it was a lost fight. The young boy looked around, trying to find a weapon, but unless he somehow could get a hold of the second sword on the wither’s back, there was none. He had to think quickly. Act quickly.

Peter lashed out and jumped the monster that had its teeth into the witcher and… gave it a taste of it’s own medicine. It let go as Peter’s teeth struck through a particularly soft patch on their body. It bucked and threw the boy off. Peter coughed, spitting out the blood that had gathered in his mouth. Head started getting fuzzy immediately. He hoped the witcher was alive. It sounded like it, but everything sounded muted, as if there was a wall between him and reality.

He heaved, the air in his lungs prickling. Vomit covered the ground below him and he coughed, clutching his chest in pain. Strong hands lifted him up and placed him against a tree. “Do not swallow. Just rinse your mouth,” a low muted voice cut its way through his panic. Peter followed the instructions, taking the water offered to him. It did not help. Then suddenly, clarity as if there was a spell casted on him. It still hurt and he still felt like he was dying, but the panic was gone, he could think clearly of what to do next.

“Listen, I could try to give you something, but it might kill you.” Peter understood. He nodded and reached out for whatever could either save or kill him. The alternative was just dying anyway. It was not hard to tell with the excruciating pain. He took the bottle, hardly looking at the red fluid, before downing it as fast as he could. More coughing. More pain. Then nothing.

---

Geralt sighed as he watched over the young man. Were it not for the boy’s foolish actions, he would have died today. The boy was sweating, his brown hair sticking to his forehead, but his face looked pale enough for him to be dead. The witcher threw another stick into the fire, trying to keep the boy that saved his life warm. At least he was not dying of hypothermia.

The fact that the stranger was not screaming from pain was a good sign, but that did not mean he would make it through the night. Night turned to day and Geralt awoke to the sound of a coughing fit. He helped the boy sit up and handed him some water. Once the boy was no longer coughing, their eyes locked. “Thank you, master witcher,” the boy spoke hoarsely.

“You are lucky to be alive. Biting an Endrega was really stupid.” The boy nodded and sat up, arms shaking. “You are also lucky to survive ingesting a witcher potion. I think you might even pull through this, kid.” He nodded again, understanding his situation. A small smile spread over his lips when he got the news he was probably going to survive. “What’s your name?”

The boy looked at him with a hazy gaze. He seemed to think very hard, before he could answer. “Peter,” he ended up saying, “sorry, my head is all fuzzy.” Geralt placed a hand on Peter’s head. It felt really hot.

“You’re running a fever. Your body is still burning through all the toxins. Where are your parents?” The boy looked down. Right. The war. Another orphan then.

“They died. I’m heading to my aunt in uh…” He paused, thinking again. “Novigrad.” Geralt huffed. This boy was probably lady luck’s own bloody son.

“That’s where I’m headed. I’ll drop you off at a healer there.” The boy thanked him over and over until he got caught in a coughing fit again. “Don’t mention it. I drop you off and we do not owe each other anything.” Peter nodded, finally shutting up.

The journey to Novigrad was a long one. Peter was weak, only getting a little better each day. He had to rest a lot, but he was good company. Geralt could see he was the type to chat his ears off, but speaking brought Peter into a coughing fit, so words were rare. Geralt learned Peter’s parents died in the Battle of White Orchard. Peter was also good with horses or at least with Roach. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the farmer’s boy, but there was something special about him too.

Peter tried to offer his mother’s ring as payment for the escort, but Geralt did not accept. By the time they closed in on the gates of Novigrad, Peter seemed to be doing well enough to get home on his own. He insisted he finished the journey on his own two legs and Geralt had business to tend to, so their ways parted at the gates. After finding Dandelion, he thought he was done in Novigrad. After all, Ciri was not there, but Geralt’s path was bound to converge with Peter’s once more.

Geralt needed coin for the journey to Skellige. There was a contract on a ‘giant, humanoid, red spider’. It apparently attacked some people. It was a menace to track down. Tracks ended on walls that even Geralt could not climb. There was no distinctive scent either. He followed the trail of thick, abnormally strong spiderwebs to a house near Oxenfurt Gate in the Bits. Downstairs was a workshop that looked untouched for a couple of weeks. Spiderwebs spooked in the corners, but none matched what he found on the buildings in other parts of the Bits.

“Anybody home?” He called out. Feet rushed over the first floor and headed to the stairs. Geralt watched as someone came down the stairs, skinny but muscular legs, followed by a lean body and then… a very familiar face.

“Geralt!” Peter exclaimed joyfully. In a flash Geralt found himself being hugged tightly by the boy. He froze, unsure what to do. “It is great to see you! Look!” Peter stepped back and did a little dance. “I’m all good and healthy!” The boy paused, then frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

The witcher looked around, eyes scanning over the workshop that looked abandoned. “What happened to this workshop?” Peter’s smile disappeared. He cleared his throat and looked down.

“Uncle Ben died. It was his. I uh… meant to pick up his work, but… it’s just hard to touch his stuff.” Geralt answered with a grunt and a nod. He stepped around, careful to not touch anything. “You need anything? I can make stuff as well. Combs, mirrors, machinery components, you name it. I’ll make anything for you at half the price…”

“I’m looking for the red spider man that has been attacking people ‘round here.” Geralt was right. Peter really could talk a lot. Dandelion would love him. Peter grew awfully quiet. Geralt could hear his heart pounding rapidly. When he looked at the boy, there was no eye-contact. “Peter, if you know anything, you need to tell me. This thing could attack you too.”

Peter finally looked up, shaking his head. “No! It is not like that! I mean…” He moved around restlessly. ��Spiderman saved me! He does that a lot! He attacks bandits and other bad people. He would not harm me.” Lies. Geralt could tell, but he wondered why Peter would lie about it.

“This spider man attacked some commoners.” “Maybe those commoners were attacking someone else.”

Geralt raised a brow. That was a really quick answer. “Peter, I am not asking again. What do you know?” Peter seemed to get smaller under his threatening gaze. He mumbled something that even Geralt could not hear. “Speak up.” Peter took a deep breath, before speaking in a small voice.

“I’ll lead you to Spiderman. Meet me at midnight behind the city walls, between Oxenfurt and South Gate.” “Just tell me where he is. No need to bring you into danger as well.’ “Like I said, master witcher, sir, Spiderman will not harm me or any other innocent person.” “You don’t know that.” “But I do and you will too, tonight.”

The boy fidgeted in place. He offered the witcher a cup of tea. Geralt refused and left. He had some other matters to attend to, before leaving for Skellige. It was raining that night. The moon was hardly visible, only a thin crescent hung in the sky, leaving that night’s illumination to the flickering fires from the city. Geralt’s witcher senses were triggered when he heard something behind him. Down from the wall came a figure clad in red with a mask that reminded him of one that Dandelion wore during his scheme with Sophronia. Geralt reached for his silver sword, but stopped when the figure stood before him. Even at a distance, Geralt could recognise the faint scent of that neglected workshop. His first thought was that Peter got eliminated, before he could meet Geralt, but as the spider man stood before him, he noticed a similar build, a similar height, a similar way of cowering before the witcher. “Peter?”

The figure reached for his mask and indeed, as the leather came off, there was the scared, but unnecessarily brave boy from the forest. “Hello, Geralt, sir,” the boy almost whispered. Geralt lowered his arm, sighing. “How did you climb that wall?”

Peter smiled a little and walked back to the wall. “You see, some things changed after I bit that spider thing…” “Endrega.” “That! I think it interacted with that potion you gave me.” “Gotta note that down…”

“And now I can do this!”

Peter jumped and scaled the wall while sticking to it like… a spider. Geralt stared at him, unsure of how to react. He nearly got a heart attack when Peter jumped off the wall when he was near the top. He rushed to catch the fool, but from the boy’s wrist came something that stuck to the wall and Peter hung from it, upside down, right in front of Geralt’s face. “I can also shoot webs like a spider,” the boy proudly announced. Geralt sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Peter, did you attack people?” The boy came down and nodded shamefully.

“Yes, but I only attacked bandits and some whoresons that were harassing elves! Please, Geralt, you must believe me… sir.” Geralt could tell he was honest. It was not about believing him or not.

“You need to stop. You might get hurt. The witch hunters might even want to put you on the pyre.” “Let them try.”

Geralt raised a brow. Peter stood before him, clad in red like a junior Dandelion and arms crossed like a child. He was a child, a ridiculously stupid child. “What you’re doing is dangerous and you need to stop. You don’t know what these… powers are. You’re healthy now, but you might not be for long.”

“And what about you?” Geralt raised a brow at the boy again as he walked closer. “You go around helping people with your special powers, why can’t I?” “I am trained to do this.” “Then train me.”

Geralt let out a sigh of resignation. He wanted to send Peter to Kaer Morhen, but he didn’t trust him to get there alive or even find the way. “No.” Geralt tried to walk away, but quicker than he ever saw any normal human move, Peter was in front of him, blocking the way.

“What if I can take you on in a fight. Not win, of course, but I bet I can stand against you for a minute.” “You have gone from foolish to just arrogant.” “Give me a chance! I can do more than climb walls and swing from a web… please?”

“Fine, if you survive a minute, I’ll train you, but, if I floor you within that minute, you get rid of the stupid costume and never attack anyone again, bandit or otherwise.” “Deal.”

---

Peter was afraid he might have overestimated his abilities, but all he had to do was not be floored. Fortunately they agreed to no weapons. “Time goes in now,” Geralt announced and Peter expected him to pounce right away, but it seemed the witcher was waiting as well. Peter stayed alert, his new, sharp senses noticing how slow Geralt’s heartbeat was in contrast to his own, pounding his chest like it was trying to get out.

Then finally, Geralt lunged forwards and Peter barely dodged him. He rolled over the floor and got back up with great finesse. Yellow eyes narrowed and scanned his body like it was determining the price of a horse. Peter swallowed a lump in his throat, before dodging again. For now, that was all he was doing. He knew better than to try something funny or to hope for Geralt to get exhausted. With one close call, Peter found himself behind Geralt. He took the chance to give a quick, albeit not hard, kick against the witcher’s back, before dashing backwards. They had drawn a circle on the ground, he barely stayed in it.

It ended up being the only strike Peter would give. Geralt was simply not as fast as Peter and while Peter had taken a pretty good blow to the head, he was still standing after a minute. When the time was up, a sigh left the white-haired male. “Fine, but you will have to come with me to Skellige. I still need to find Ciri.”

Peter let out the air he held in his lungs and collapsed on the ground, tired from dodging like his life had depended on it. “Your daughter, right? I’ll… have to leave aunt May for a while, but I’ll be back, right?” Geralt gave him a look that said ‘yeah, sure, maybe’ and Peter found it rather ominous, but he also trusted the man enough to keep him alive. “I’ve never been to Skellige. What is it like?”

Geralt did not spare him a look as he put his equipment back on. “Cold. We leave tomorrow at noon.”

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #peter parker #geralt of rivia #crossover #tw3 #the witcher 3 wild hunt #game geralt #tom holland #mcu #marvel #dandelion #ciri #novigrad #skellige #endrega

11 notes · View notes

theres-no-protocol-for-this · 4 years ago

Text

Amusement Park

Part 11 of the Guardian fanfic (and we’re almost to the end)! If you would like to read this in chronological order and don’t feel like tag surfing, this is also available on AO3.

Not everything my humans do ends in tragedy. Occasionally, they have something resembling fun.

Digging in the Archives led them to one of those traveling amusement parks that sometimes took over parking lots for a week. I'd seen it at a distance but frankly, the screaming and the smell of cotton candy hadn’t instilled much confidence.

You'll hate it, the house informed me. It had given me a pendant through which it talked, sometimes. I was still getting used to the mansion’s constant presence.

For once, the entity was uncharacteristically wrong. I didn't totally hate the amusement park. The place was loud and there were far too many people, plus it all smelled vaguely of vomit. But my humans had a good time, and that somehow made up for the rest of it.

Arada and Overse held hands and bought themselves giant hot dogs. Baradwahj kept stopping to doodle in her sketchbook. Even Gurathin, who as far as I knew didn't like anything that entailed having fun, was having a good time as he argued air resistance and thermodynamics with Volsecu.

I was walking alongside Dr. Mensah, on two legs at that.

"Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?" she asked.

I shook my head. If wolves had been intended to leave the ground, we'd have wings. And seeing as how we didn't, I didn't want to chance it. It must've shown on my face because Mensah laughed and touched my shoulder.

"You look like I suggested an execution."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's perfectly safe."

"It doesn't look safe." How was I supposed to protect my clients if they were going to get on something that rickety?

The house offered unhelpful information, starting with when Ferris wheels were invented and the statistics of accidents and injuries.

Mensah shook her head, clearly amused at the whole thing, and stopped in front of a food vendor. Money exchanged hands, and suddenly she had this puffy ball of sugar on a stick. It was a hideous shade of pink.

"Want to try a bite?" she asked.

"Hell no!"

She snorted. "You could use more meat on your bones, you know."

"That... thing isn't food."

The rest of the group was up ahead, stopped in front of a small building that read "Fun House of Mirrors." These words didn't look right together, but fuck it, I don't understand humans and I couldn't care less what they considered fun.

"Over here!" Arada yelled, waving her hands.

Mensah waved back and started walking again. Normally, I do at most a half-assed version of my job. A decade in, I've come to the conclusion that humans are somehow drawn to danger, and frankly, stopping them is a waste of breath. But these humans... I didn't want anything to happen to them, so I'd been paying attention.

So, when a clown walked between me and them, I growled at the weirdly-dressed human. Except, it didn't smell human at all. It smelled... like me, like another were-creature. I didn't see a collar, so it wasn't a guardian. Just a free were-creature, one that hadn’t been caught by the department.

We’re supposed to report unregistered users of dark magic to the department. But, my binding almost never picked up when such a creature was around—it certainly wasn’t reacting now—and I had no plans of telling the department a damn thing.

The clown planted itself in front of me. "Oh wow," it—correction, she—said, suddenly excited. "Oh my god, you're like the only other shapeshifter I've met. Shit! This is awesome. Oh, god, can I...uh, take a picture?"

The team noticed my absence and came over, and then, there was nowhere to run. I stood around awkwardly while they chatted with the other were-creature, whose name was Tasha and who turned into a bear but had started as a human. And then they exchanged phone numbers. And I was just standing there, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

"You OK?" Tasha wanted to know all of a sudden.

"Fine."

"You look about a mile down the road from fine," she pointed out. "I can practically see you trying to crawl out of your skin."

"So?"

"So, you need to relax a little," she told me, oblivious.

Mensah carefully explained that I was currently working. Tasha patted my shoulder, and I almost jumped backward. It took effort to stay still and not bite the were-bear's hand off.

"Stop that," I growled.

Tasha handed me a balloon, one of the many she was holding and giving out to kids. I just stood there, string in hand, and tried to puzzle out what the fuck I was supposed to do with it. You can't really kill anyone with a balloon, and you can't eat it.

Ratthi said, "It's very purple."

I looked up at the floating ball. "What do you do with it?"

"Hold it for a while and then let it go and watch it fly away."

"What for?"

Humans often engage in rituals that bring them joy. It doesn’t always have meaning, the entity told me like I didn’t know. I wished I could glare but there was no one to glare at.

"Fun." Tasha was in my face. "The whole purpose of this place is to have some fun. It makes living a little easier, a little lighter."

I looked at Dr. Mensah like I needed rescuing all of a sudden.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Let's go see if we can find you something that's actual food." She smiled at the were-bear. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Tasha. Feel free to reach out to us anytime."

After lunch, we entered the funhouse.

I know humans are supposed to be delighted in things that bend the mind, but the house of mirrors gave me the creeps. I felt sufficiently unnerved to switch back into my wolf form. On the off chance that we got attacked three steps past the front door, I was ready.

I walked ahead of the rest of the investigative team, using my superior senses to seek out our target. But, frankly, I doubted the sanity of any creature that would make its home in this horrible place.

I stopped in front of a set of mirrors that distorted human proportions. Standing on four feet and only half as tall as the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I could still mostly identify what I was looking at. Trust humans to enjoy something as convoluted and mind-bending as this place.

And then a shadow walked straight out of the mirror and past me toward the investigators. It was a silhouette of a person, outlined in gray and green sparks of light. It sang as it moved, each word visible in the fog-shrouded room.

The words were literally spilling out of its mouth like confetti and falling on the ground.

I decided that this monster had bigger problems than a group of curious investigators to deal with.

"Indeed," said the strange spirit and the word plopped on the ground like a meatball. "This is what you might call a curse."

I yipped at it softly. "What kind of curse?"

It, of course, had no idea what I was saying. The mansion helped translate, somehow able to communicate with the creature just because of the pendant's proximity to the monster.

"The kind born of ill intentions," the spirit answered just as the humans caught up.

I placed myself squarely between them and the spirit, moving so that, if it tried anything, it would have to go through me.

Mensah put a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, as a heads-up that she was standing beside me. I shivered at the unsolicited touch. Baradwahj was taking notes, and in the brief silence I could easily make out the sound of her pencil scraping against paper.

"I wondered why so many beings of light were suddenly in my domain," the creature said, and the words floated away, carried by an unseen breeze. "But now, I understand. The humans beyond these walls never cease to surprise me."

Overse, whose magic also had a connection to words and writing, stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"A difficult question, human." The cursed being rose above the floor on bare feet and twirled before us. "Once, perhaps I was human. But then I was cursed, for speaking the words that needed to be said. And the curse is renewed with each passing moon. For fifty years now, unceasing and unfailing."

"Can you tell us who cursed you?"

"I never knew her name. But she was... beautiful. Like the light of a new moon falling on a still, silent lake."

I heard whispers among the group. Finally, Overse said, "If we could find the one who cursed you, perhaps we could convince her to lift it."

"Perhaps."

The spirit flittered past me and between the humans. It passed through them untouched and didn't appear to cause them any harm. Sparks of green light landed in her wake.

I knew the humans wouldn't leave this alone, so I shapeshifted and became human. The spirit turned to face me now that there were eight people between us, haphazardly arranged and staring.

"So you're more than a wolf."

"And you're more than a prisoner," I countered.

"A curse is a curse." The creature shrugged.

"Not every curse is the same. Why the mirrors?"

"So that I might remember the importance of the human shape, the wonder of what it means to be born a human being." She spit the words out.

I had a sudden, inexplicable moment of clarity. "The head of the department did this, didn't she?"

"You're a smart one, little wolf."

No, not smart. Just good at remembering terrible things at inappropriate times. Mensah did this complicated thing where she got a little closer but didn't touch, like just existing would somehow prop me up. I don't know why. It's not like I cared what happened to this spirit or the uptight asshole of a human who chaired the department.

Overse and Arada grasped hands. Ratthi looked so very, utterly sad.

Mensah made a decision. I like how she thinks hard about her choices but once she's chosen, it's full steam ahead. I hate humans who waffle about things.

"We're leaving," she told the team. "There's nothing more we can do here. The Archives got it wrong this time. Guardian, we have some things we need to do tomorrow. So you have the day off."

#murderbot #fanfiction #werewolves #guardian #ao3 #words

6 notes · View notes

infantbluee · 5 years ago

Photo

title: count to eight

summary: in another timeline, maka is killed on the moon and the world descends into madness. five years later, a reclusive soul stumbles across a girl who claims to be his dead best friend.

pairing: soul/maka

rating: explicit

warnings: angst, smut, canon-typical violence, sort of love triangle (though not really because it’s just between maka and two souls)

links: ao3 // ffn

—

oh my gosh, this is my second resbang fic ever and i still can’t believe i got so lucky! this year i was paired with the amazing, brilliant, hilarious, and adorable @ochako999 and @maevenneverland who had a full-time job making me laugh-cry over their shenanigans while also making GORGEOUS art for my fic. (links can be found here and here respectively.) please excuse me while i sob over their talent for the next 84 years because they are perfect.

even more hugs to my ridiculous discord family for keeping me insane, as well as all the other wonderful people i’ve met on tumblr, twitter, and even just by exchanging reviews on fanfics! there’s a reason i’ve been so glad i joined this fandom and it’s because of every single one of you that make it so warm <3

please enjoy the short excerpt below!

—

It’s surprisingly cold this year.

Soul blows into his hands, rubbing his palms together to retain warmth. Normally he can escape Kid’s annual Christmas party and hide out in the gardens without any sort of penalty, but apparently Mother Nature decided she was bored this holiday season and wanted to take a turn punishing the antisocial hermit.

That, or she’s calling him a coward.

It’s probably that last one.

“Hiding already?” a familiar voice calls. “This must be a record.”

Holding back a grimace, Soul maintains a blank expression as he turns his head to see his girlfriend approach him along the cobblestone path.

She’s too pretty to be real in this setting, surrounded by glazed tree branches and the twinkling lights strung all over to make up for the blackened moon. Wearing a dress like that with her hair so long and loose, she might as well have “serenade me, you coward” plastered all over her forehead.

“Idiot, you’re going to get frostbite,” he scolds instead, already scowling as he shrugs off his suit jacket to drape over her shoulders. “What are you thinking, coming out here without a coat on?”

Maka smiles sweetly. “I was thinking my weapon always takes care of me.”

Stupid. He thinks the word twice, both times so pathetically filled with affection. “Did Kid send you to hunt me down?” he asks. “I swear I was gonna go back inside. Continue wooing those foreign emissaries or whatever the hell he expects me to do. I just needed a break.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s Christmas; he doesn’t expect you to spend the whole time working.” Her eyes twinkle. “Besides, I already handled it. The dignitaries love me.”

He snorts. “Of course they do.”

“Hey, one of us has to be doing our jobs right,” she teases.

“Suck-up.”

“I prefer the term eager to please.”

Soul is incredulous. “How the hell did you manage to find the one phrase that’s dirtier than suck-up?”

Her smile is angelic. “It’s a talent.”

He responds with a growl as he nuzzles his face against her skin, his hands sliding under the jacket he covered her with to trace the artfully exposed curves underneath.

“Soul, stop!” she giggles. “We can’t do it out here. It’s cold.”

“So keep me warm then,” he grumbles. “And anyway, is that really the first thing you worry about when I’m trying to cop a feel? Not ‘oh, someone might catch us’ or ‘what if your dick shrunk too much in this weather for me to feel it?’”

This time when she laughs, he hides his own smile against her skin. She doesn’t stop him, letting her head fall back with a sigh as he presses kisses along the base of her neck. Even when it’s this cold, she’s so soft. It’s really unfair. He’s seen her moisturizing routine. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this level of silky perfection.

“Soul,” she gasps when he nips particularly hard at her throat. Her hands grip at his shirt, desperate, and he decides that maybe getting a little dirty on a garden bench wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.

But then the lights flicker.

That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to tear his mouth away from her skin, except that it’s accompanied by a deep tremble beneath the earth which causes Soul to stumble into his meister. She catches him, always so impressively steady on her size-five-hidden-by-giant-boots feet, and the speed at which she goes from horny girlfriend to calculating meister is seriously impressive.

And hot. Really hot.

Soul’s never been as adept at switching off his hunger as she is.

“A pre-kishin attack?” she asks with a frown as they rush back towards the party. It’s been a long time since they’ve encountered a pre-k without actively hunting one, and even longer since one has existed within the walls of their city.

“Maybe a demon,” Soul guesses. They’re also rare these days, but they still exist. Though the Witch Treaty has significantly put a damper on their confidence.

As they approach the mansion, they can already hear a commotion brewing. Plenty of shouts, glass shattering. A horrifying, almost unearthly slithering sound as fluid shadows spill out of the windows like overflowing bath water. They pick up their pace.

When they finally burst into the room, they’re horrified by the sight in front of them.

“Kid!” Maka cries.

The chandelier is history, now scattered around the dancefloor in a million tiny little pieces. The decorations are torn; the tables cracked and thrown about. The civilian guests have all been ushered to the sides of the room as several witches hold up a barrier to keep them safe, but the real terror is the enormous entity in the middle of the room that seems to have no problem fending off the advances of half a dozen meisters.

It’s like nothing Soul’s ever seen before, even during the worst of the war. A giant, oozing ball of shadowy flesh with these sharp, jerking limbs that regenerate and extend from its body whenever someone tries to attack it.

Accompanying it is this smell, putrid and awful—but even worse are the low, chittering moans coming from its repulsive form, over and over and over again, filling the room like a sickening hum.

“Maakaa. Maaaaaaaakaaaa.”

Soul feels his blood run cold.

Kid, who is currently trying to hold back several of its limbs from further attacking the civilian barrier, jerks his head up at her call for him, his face flashing with horror. It’s obvious how long the creature must’ve been moaning her name by the intensity of the reaper’s panic.

“Maka, get back!” he screams.

In the same moment, she gasps as Soul tackles her to the side just in time to avoid getting pierced by a flurry of sword-like limbs. He then rolls and grabs her hand, jerking her to her feet as he starts off in a sprint, squeezing to get her attention. “Maka!”

“R-right!”

He shifts into weapon form just in time for her to swing him in defense. She manages to block two of them, slicing off three more, before being forced to jump back as another wave rushes at her. The monster seems to have forgotten about the others completely now that it has her in its sight, its several dozen eyes turning to train directly on her.

“I don’t understand,” she says as she blocks more of its attacks. “Why does it keep coming for me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” growls Soul. “I’ll die before I let it take you. The only priority now is to kill it.”

“But how?”

“To your left!”

She twists to the side, barely dodging the next stream of violent hands as they scrape off Soul’s blade. But instead of relief, he can feel her horror, because those same regenerative limbs that had just tried to rip into her heart somehow jerk to the side with enough force to shatter one of the barriers protecting the guests.

He hears Angela among the screams.

“Maka, no!” he cries out.

Too late. She flips over one of the creature’s arms to run against it, slicing at the others with a ferocity that would impress him in any other circumstance. At the end of her sprint, Maka dives, pushing Angela out of the way from an attack and twisting in a way that cushions the young girl’s fall.

Through their bond, Soul can feel the pain shoot up Maka’s spine and he cries out for her, demanding to know if she’s hurt.

She forces a smile as she sits up. “I’m fine,” she lies terribly. She glances down at the young witch and looks relieved that she’s unharmed.

Before she can say anything else, she’s yanked away so quickly that Soul is literally whipped from her grip and clatters to the floor. He shifts back to human form in an instant, scrambling for her with a cry, but it’s too late.

The monster has Maka dangling by her ankle over its main form, the rest of its extensions retreating as well. Black Star and Kid both try to charge at it only to be swatted away like flies and held back with the pressure of mutated shadow limbs.

Then it does the worst thing possible.

It drops her.

“NO!” Soul screams.

It’s like a detonator is pressed. The moment Maka’s body is absorbed into its inky flesh, the creature begins to twitch a jerk violently, pulsing and moving so rapidly that even the meisters have no choice but to back up.

With a horrifying screech, it’s sucked into the earth through an invisible exit, like some sort of oversized blob of goo being sucked through a vacuum or forced down a drain. The whole fleshy monstrosity continues to be pulled through that tiny unseen gateway until it has completely disappeared from the ballroom. Gone.

And Maka along with it.

[ read more on ao3 or ffn! ]

#soul eater #soul x maka #soma #soul eater evans #maka albarn #resbang 2019 #chloe writes #this was the most stressful forty-eight hours of my life and i am so glad we made it T___T

153 notes · View notes

bxthharmon · 5 years ago

Text

White Butterflies pt iii. || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

Words: 2028

Warnings: Mentions of arranged marriage, drowning, (veiled threats?)

Summary: An owl’s cry is bad luck

A/N: Ah, took a couple of days, sorryyyyyy

i | ii | iii | iv | v

This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.

“Princess Y/N” Bjorn greeted you, “Come with me, Ivar’s going to announce the raids.”

“Firstly, we can stop with the titles, I’ve been here almost two months now, we’re friends, no?” you grinned, and he nodded, beckoning you to join him on the path to the hall, “and secondly, since I am no shield-maiden, do I really have to have my afternoon spent watching men argue and shout over their mead?”

He laughed, “All the same, you are a member of the family, and I feel that you should find out, I wanted you to know earlier, but Ivar refused.” you frowned, curious, but followed him into the Great Hall. You picked out your husband and Ubbe in the crowd, greeting them and kissing Hvitserk on the cheek.

Ivar called for the attention of the hall, and the room fell silent. “People of Kattegat,” Ivar started, “I have called you all here to announce the destination of our summer’s raids.” the crowd cheered enthusiastically, spilling ale in the process, “Now, I understand that you all have been asking for the last few weeks, and I’ve come to my decision. We’ve fallen out with plenty of countries, and so I feel we shouldn’t take on more than we can handle, no? That is why, in a moon’s time, we will be travelling to the home of my dear brother’s wife, Y/N.”

Cheers went up around you, but Ivar and Hvitserk kept their eyes on you, watching for a reaction. Standing there, you realised that your mother had done an amazing job on training you to keep your emotions private. You stood there, straight-faced and calm, but internally panicking.

“Brother,” Ubbe said, “By doing this, you breach the terms of the agreement one that you signed, it would be unwise to do such a thing. They have a large army, a strong one, have you considered that it would not be so wise?”

“We have the largest army in the world,” Ivar said, a cheer went up, “And we have an inside woman, no?”

Stares turned to you, and you sighed, stepping forwards. “My king, it would be an honour to help you in this attack. Though I must admit, women were not told battle plans and such where I come from.”

“Well I suppose you’ve just got to tell us all you know, hmm?” he said, as if he expected nothing less.

You walked away, full of panic. You did not care for your family, your country or its people - there wasn’t a single good person in that court - but you were worried. If your father found out he would try to get to you - contact you or hurt you - he would do anything to turn you back to your old country. He would expect it. You had no doubt he would hurt the people you were close to, maybe even kill them, if it meant you helped him. You felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N,” said Hvitserk, “Are you okay?” you turned abruptly to face him.

“My family is many things, but they are not high-minded people.” you said, “I have seen both cultures, and you, as vikings, in the way you fight, you are honourable, and honest, but they will stab you in the back, they will poison you and manipulate you to meet their own ends. Their army is smaller, but they will find out our strategies and plans. To do this, we would have to fight in the least viking way possible.”

Hvitserk stared at you, and you continued, “Ivar is punching above his weight, and I don’t want to watch a futile battle. I’ll help, but don’t expect me to support this. I don’t love them, but I also don’t want this to start a war, and by doing this Ivar is starting a war that I don’t think he’ll win.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and exited the hall, inhaling the cold, fresh air.

“Y/N,” Arthur greeted, and you looked up from your embroidery.

“Arthur,” you forced a smile, “What brings you here?”

“Theodore.” he says, and you frowned lightly.

“What’s Theo done?” you said, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Theodore told a servant girl that you were… courting… a boy from Lord Jackson’s court.” he sat down in front of you, and glared into your eyes. You held the stare, swallowing the fear induced by the glint in his eyes. Like he was mad, like he would kill you. “Now,” he began, drawing his dagger, and holding it to the light, “You are young, too young for betrothal, but in a couple of years, no doubt, once you’ve got your monthly blood, you will undoubtedly marry. And you know, our family is the most important thing.” he lifted the blade so that you could see your face staring back at you, “so we can’t have you marry some unimportant, good-for-nothing Lord in one of our own courts, can we?”

“Mother said-”

He pushed the flat side of the blade against your collar bone, the edge cold metal threatening to twist and slice your skin. “Mother knows that you will marry to form an alliance, and if you stray from the path that your father is building for you, then people will get hurt, and you are too kind to let that happen.” the blade twisted, and drops of blood trickled down your skin.

“Thank you for your counsel, brother.”

You’d known then that everything he’d said was true. You’d spent your whole life preparing for this marriage. You’d learnt Frankish and German and Latin fluently, and could just about get by in at least four other languages, so that you could speak to any foreign suitors and handle visitors to your court. You’d learnt to write, read, sew and embroider so as to have reputable skills to help in your life. You’d learnt manners and etiquette to impress suitors. You’d been taught how to veil threats, hide emotions, and test other’s certitude.

You had been prepared for it, yet when it had happened, you couldn’t have been in more shock. You had been thrown into a world with different Gods, customs and celebrations. You already understood and spoke the language, but were nowhere near fluent, and struggled to keep up with conversation, especially given the refusal to teach any language relating to another religion.

You felt out of your depth.

You stood on the docks of Kattegat, the sea stretched out before you, turbulent and stormy. The waves rising metres into the air, and winds cold and harsh against your skin, biting and clawing at you. The swell of the wave was noticeable from the moment it entered the fjord, rising and surging towards you with purpose. You wanted to run, to get out of the way, but your feet were stuck, you couldn’t move. The wave only seconds away from hitting, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the impact hit you, you were blown away, floating in the undercurrents as water took the town as its own. The wave pulled back, and you were swept away, out of the fjord, and into the endless waters of the sea. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t tell left from right, up from down. The depths gave you no means of escape, and your lungs were collapsing, you were sinking. Forced by the water, your mouth opened, and water filled your lungs.

But you did not die.

You hung there, in the middle of the sea, breathing water. You pulled yourself forwards through the water, your eyes wide open, stinging, but seeing. You pulled yourself through the water, and realised that you suddenly knew how to swim. You felt yourself begin to relax and felt your guard drop. You regained your bearings.

But then the water became a mess of fangs and scales and blood and you were disorientated and hurt again. Panic filled your system and you pushed yourself away, trying to escape the huge writhing body that was thrashing all around you. You found yourself watching the thing from a distance, before you saw its eyes.

Evil, red, hateful, they caught you in their gaze, growing bigger, more vicious, bloodthirsty and hunting. You saw its fangs, pale and sharp and full of venom, its scales smooth and perfect. This - this thing - was a monster, a beast, made for murder and hate and unspeakable deeds. It was hunting.

And you were the prey.

The mouth of the serpent came close so quickly that if you shut your eyes you would have missed it. It was so big that for a split-second you realised it would swallow you whole, and you were as small as a mouse is to a bear.

You were going to die.

Air filled your lungs as you sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, panting. Everything was blurred and all you were aware of was your breathing - shallow, quick and ragged - everything else was unclear.

You felt faintly aware that someone had sat up next to you and you could feel their arm over your shoulders, pulling you into them, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay? Y/N, tell me what happened, talk to me, me heart, talk to me.”

The murmur pierced through your dumb state, and everything came back into focus. You could feel tears streaming down your face. You brought your attention to Hvitserk, whose face taught with concern, eyebrows pulled down to a frown, his eyes, dark and strong, but he too looked scared witless, on the verge of tears.he took your face in his hands, “My Princess, tell me what happened.”

“I, uh, I was at the docks.” your speech, you realised, was broken. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever been in front of someone, “and there was this - this wave. It was coming towards me, so fast, and it seemed… almost, I don’t know, angry. It flooded all of Kattegat - the whole thing - and took me with it back out to sea. And I was trying to hold my breath - obviously - and I don’t know how to swim, so I was panicking. But - but I could breathe.”

He frowned, “Underwater?”

“Yes, it was like I was breathing the water itself.” you sighed, “But then, just as I got my bearings, this huge thing came and it was, like, thrashing, around me. I - I got away, but this, giant, huge… snake, I think, it saw me. And it looked like it wanted to kill me, for no real reason. And it surged towards me, it was so big that it fully, like, I don’t know, it consumed me?” you looked at your lap, and felt tears falling.

“Hey,” he looked into your eyes, “hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. But do you know what this means?”

“No,” you said, “I’ve never had a dream like that before.”

“You could breathe underwater, that means you have Njord’s favour.”

“Njord?” you asked, despite how you were trying to learn about the Gods, you didn’t know them all.

“The God of the Sea, and the Wind, and of Trade.” He explained. “We should tell the others of your dream, it’s important.”

“Important how?” you asked.

“Important because we want to have his favour for our sails to your land.” he kissed your nose, lightly. “It’s daybreak anyway, come to our meeting with me later, help us out.”

“For you,” you kissed him, and then left the bed, calling a thrall to help you dress. Hvitserk left quickly, kissing your cheek and assuring your attendance to the small war council.

You went to the yew tree before the council, and prayed. You prayed for family, but not family that shared your blood. You prayed for the family whose home you lived in and whose success depended on you. You wondered what had become of Theo, and if your family was still healthy, and you questioned if you wondered this out of love or curiosity, and if they thought the same of you. Somewhere, in the distance, an owl called.

tag(s): @soleil-dor @siliethkaijuy

29 notes · View notes

forfuchssake · 4 years ago

Text

Raiju Against the Machine || Bri & Luce

TIMING: May 24th, 2020 PARTIES: @divineluce & @honeybugbearbri SUMMARY: Bri finds Luce making magical fire in the woods. A raiju that Bri dubs Sparky joins them. Luce is definitely amused.

Thunderstorms had always been one of Bri’s favorite things. More often than not, one could find an inexperienced hiker or camper that was scared for their life. They always smelled so delicious and she loved the ambient noise a good storm provided to her meals. She’d been wandering aimlessly through the forest when she first saw it. Blue flames were licking at one of the trees off in the distance. It was strange to see in the rain, but she supposed a random lightning strike could have caused it. Either way, she had to see for herself. Fire screamed danger and there was nothing quite as appealing to someone who survived on the fear of others. She stopped a few feet out, entranced to see a woman who seemed to be wielding the flames. There was something incredibly beautiful about the scene before her and it wasn’t just the woman. Anyone who could harness fire in such a controlled manner was someone who should be feared and nothing could be more enticing. She watched for a few moments, the pattern of the flames and the combination of steam and smoke that rose from them would look captivating in her own illusions. As the flames seemed to die down, she made her presence known. “Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying the show,” she announced plainly.

Ever since… that day, Luce had thrown herself into her magic. The pain, the grief, the loss. It clung to her, like smoke to her clothes, cloying and overpowering. And, when it all became too much-- when the grief threatened to overwhelm her, she ran. She ran from the house, she ran from the town, and she ran to the woods. Unlike all the other times she’d been out, testing her magical limits in the eye of a storm, she was unprepared. Her backpack was left inside her room. Her hiking shoes were replaced with normal sneakers. And Luce didn’t care. She flung herself into the woods and lost herself to the magic, immersed herself in it. Let the flames dance and coil and burn as hot and as blue as she could muster. Not red. Red was Bea’s color. Red was Nell’s color, their family’s color. Blue. Only blue. At the edge of her vision, she was aware of someone stepping into the clearing and-- for a moment, Luce didn’t care. She didn’t care that someone saw her wielding her magic. She didn’t give a fuck about anything. But, as she turned and took in the woman who had stepped forward, Luce lowered her hands to her side, the blue flames receding. “It’s not a show.” She said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. Like Bea’s shows. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d get out of here.” She growled, her fingers igniting with harsh blue flames.

There was a wry grin on her face as she watched the flames on the other woman’s fingertips. If anything, the threat only made her more inclined to stay. A lesser animal might have scurried away in fear, but not Brianne. In fact, the thought of more fire only filled her with delight. The blue flames were a nice touch. Maybe she’d include that imagery during her next shift at Misery Manor. “I’m quite content where I am, thank you,” she retorted playfully. As much could potentially ignite the woman’s flames further, but she’d take her chances. Her eyes had been watching the magic woman when something flickering in the distance caught her attention. Bri looked past Luce to see some sort of weird wolf that looked almost electric. Was this some sort of werewolf variation? It wasn’t the full moon, but she was delighted. “It looks like we have a friend,” she cooed gleefully, “Here, doggy doggy.” She extended her hand, calling the beast over to her. A new friend. What could possibly be better?

When the woman didn’t back off, didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the flames around her hand, Luce barely cared. She didn’t give a fuck. None of this mattered. Nothing mattered now that her sister was gone. Anger, without much weight behind it, flared within her. This woman wasn’t taking her seriously. She would show her that she meant business, show her what it meant to interrupt a witch-- but, before the flames could grow in her palm, Luce was startled when she looked past her. The slight shock made the flames in her hand lower slightly, but her fist remained ablaze. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky above them as Luce locked eyes with the strange creature that was staring back at them, hatred and malice gleaming in its odd blue eyes. “That’s not a fucking dog and it’s not your friend either.” She called out, warning the woman. The creature bared its teeth at her and for a moment, Luce wondered if she was going insane. It’s fur seemed to bristle with electricity. Normally, such a sight would fill her with cold dread. Instead, she felt nothing. Nothing more than mild curiosity. What was the worst that it could do? Kill her?

The wolf, who Bri had officially dubbed Sparky in her mind, didn’t seem like the most friendly of the forest’s creatures. She watched the other woman, curious for her reaction. Most showed fear when faced with a creature who appeared ready to attack yet she smelled no fear on the other woman. It was uncanny, not even the slightest amount of fear was there. Her eyes narrowed as she looked Luce over. “You’re not afraid,” she stated in an even tone. It was curious, she recognized the threat, but didn’t seem to care about it. “Monsters are always friends,” she said, simply pulling jerky out of her pocket and throwing pieces pass the electric wolf. “There you go now,” she told Sparky who only seemed mildly interested in the jerky. The electric spines on its back still seemed to be standing on edge. She supposed transforming into a bear could always frighten the already scared wolf away, but she was too entranced with the fire woman and how she was reacting to this whole situation.

When the woman stared at her and boldly informed her of what she already knew, Luce frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. How’d she know that? “No, I’m not.” She replied, not bothering to question how she could tell. Maybe it was just because most people would be running away in terror. Or because she hadn’t reacted at all. Which also meant. “Neither are you. Hey--” She started, moving towards the stranger when she pulled out a piece of jerky and tossed it to the monster. “You shouldn’t do that.” Luce cautioned, the flames around her fist still glowing. The creature seemed uninterested in the meat-- instead, it’s eyes went to the fire of her fist before the crackling hackles of its face pulled back. With a snarl of her own, Luce’s already short fuse snapped. She’d come out here to train her magic, not to have it interrupted by some weird hiker and a fucked up electricity monster. Extending her hand, a ball of fire soared from her palm, igniting the ground in front of the creature.

The furrow forming in the fire lady’s brow indicated confusion, but she still could not smell the fear. Sparky smelled more of fear than Luce had. Bri looked at her seriously and deadpanned, “I fear nothing.” Especially not a wolf that looked like it would make a wonderful house pet. She frowned as she saw the fire building around the other woman’s fists again. Poor Sparky didn’t deserve such a fate. The electric wolf was simply out here in its natural habitat trying to live its life. Before she knew it, the flames were dancing in front of Sparky and he came flying toward her to attack since she’d been standing closer. While she had no fear, she wasn’t suicidal. She sighed before consciously making the shift into a bear. The fire had already frightened Sparky, so a large bear may be enough to do the trick. It felt natural, growing bigger and feeling the claws extend from her hands. Bri stared Sparky in the eyes, almost challenging him to come forward as she let out a booming roar. The wolf scampered back a little bit, seemingly not wanting to go face to face with a bear and the fire the woman next to her could wield. The smell of fear from the wolf was becoming stronger, they could likely scare it away without causing any harm.

“Sure you don’t--” Luce’s words were cut off as she watched the woman began to shift and transform and suddenly… there was a fucking bear. A giant, snarling, massive fucking bear. Startled, she took a step back on instinct, a slight jolt of fear running through her as the bear reared and bellowed at the equally confused creature that stood before them. But, as sudden as the flash of fear appeared, it was gone in an instant. This wasn’t a bear-- it was a woman. Or at least, the woman was still there, still inside. Maybe she would turn around and slash her with those claws, maybe she would rip her throat out, maybe she’d do… whatever. Luce’s hands remained at her side, the flames unwavering. The blue flames in front of the creature continued to burn despite the rain and Luce’s lips curled in a humorless smile. With a wave of her hand, she urged the flames to rise higher, creating a column of blue flame between the bear and the monster. She could feel the heat from here, but barely registered the intensity of the inferno. “Burn.” She mumbled, not sure who she was directing it at. The flames, the creature, or the bear-woman that stood before her.

Bri didn’t have time to relish in the brief moment of fear that went through the other woman as there were flames directly in front of her, separating her from her new forest friend. She growled in protest. Poor Sparky, she was going to scare him away or worse. The bear looked at Luce angrily, huffing in her direction before slowly backing away from the glaring heat of the blue flames before her. The wolf seemed to be doing the same much to her disappointment. She still enjoyed the smell of its fear. She supposed this woman wasn’t all bad. Perhaps she couldn’t scare her, but she seemed good enough at dishing out fear herself with her majestic blue flames. Sparky seemed to be scurrying backwards, trying to avoid the flames that threatened to light him ablaze.

The bear-woman turned to snort and growl and huff at her, as though she was annoyed-- Luce’s attention was focused on the fire. Even the flames that had spread away from her column, the tongues that eagerly consumed pine needles and twigs from the forest floor, they burned blue. Flicking her fingers lightly, she redirected the magical energy with ease. The flames spread from the column and began to encircle the monster. The strange creature let out a yapping bark that sounded like a crack of thunder, its eyes full of hate and fear. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. She didn’t care, she didn’t give a single fuck. She wanted her sister back. And she was never coming back. What did one more dead monster matter?

When it was clear there was no saving Sparky, Bri shifted back into her human form and was ready to give this witch a piece of her mind. Poor Sparky was just out here in his habitat trying to enjoy the storm though she had to admit the amount of fear the witch could elicit was enticing. She weighed her options and crossed her arms haughtily over her bare chest. “I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” she grumbled. Her entire body still felt entirely too warm from being so close to the blue flames, so she released her arms, letting the cool rainwater provide some comfort as she watched the flames continue to burn. Perhaps, she could take home the carcass if anything remained.

When the bear shifted and the woman took its place, the sudden transformation broke Luce’s concentration. Just enough for the flames to flicker under the weight of the rain, and for the creature to tear away, yelping in panic and pain. Its feet were burned by the fire that danced around it, but it ran away all the same. Watching it run off into the woods, Luce let the flames die down. The rain pelted the fire, sizzling at first, until the sheer downpour won out and extinguished the blaze. Letting out a breath, Luce felt the toll of being out in the wilderness, of using her magic, and of not sleeping bear down upon her. Exhaustion, without the hope of sleep, was a heavy burden. “Well. Worked out for the monster thing, didn’t it?” She said gesturing at the woods to where the creature had run away. “What are you, exactly?” Luce asked, her tone just as impassive and emotionless as the woman’s. “Some kind of… werebear?”

Seeing the monster run off brought a sense of joy to Brianne. It would live to terrify unsuspecting hikers another day. Just as the flame woman would. She looked at her curiously, arms falling from her chest. “It did,” she noted, “It had already been afraid, but no harm done.” The next words that came from the witch’s mouth were fair. It was likely not every day people transformed into a bear before her eyes and it had been the one part of their whole encounter that brought even a moment of fear to her. “As much as Iove the werewolves, I’m not a werebear. The full moon has no power over me outside of the fact I happen to enjoy it. I’m a bugbear,” she answered without showing much in the way of emotion. With an air of curiosity, she added, “I take it you’re some kind of witch?”

Listening to the woman without really focusing on the words, Luce nodded. “It had every reason to be afraid.” Between a lady who shifted into a bear and her own flames, she couldn’t blame the creature for turning tail and running. It only made sense. Huh. Now that was a rich thought. Nothing had made sense to her over these last few days, none of it made any sense. But fear and seeing a monster run in terror from her? That made sense. Running a hand across her face, Luce wiped some of the rainwater away and glanced over at the woman. “Bugbear. You turn into a beetle too or something?” She asked. A shapeshifting bugbear lady who didn’t seem all that bothered by the blue flames that had come from her hands. “No, I’m part flamethrower.” Luce said, the joke falling flat without the help of her usual teasing tone. “Yeah. I’m a witch.”

While it wasn’t the most off base question, Brianne had heard it plenty of times before. She wasn’t quite sure where the bug part of bugbear came from, but she was friendly with bugs. It was why she had opted to become a beekeeper. “No, just a bear. I do keep bees, though,” she answered in an even tone. She cocked her head slightly at the other women’s joke, lips just shy of a grin. Witches were a source of great fear among humans. Enough so that lesser men put them on trial, though she doubted the real witches were ever the ones truly exposed to their punishment. Just another example of weak men lashing out at things they weren’t able to control. “A witch. I like your fire. I’m Bri.”

“Bri, huh? Guess that makes you the Bri-keeper.” Luce said blithely. Why was she trying to joke? To hide the pain? To patch the void that filled her? Either way, it didn’t work. Nothing she’d tried had worked to help her. Drinking, fighting, gambling, sex-- all of her normal vices were nothing compared to the overwhelming grief that had consumed her life. Even art, her greatest escape, held nothing for her. She hadn’t been able to pick up a pencil in days. “I’m Luce.” She said with a nod. Overhead a fresh peel of thunder rang out through the forest and a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. As much as she wanted to continue her magic out here, now that she knew someone was lurking in the woods… she didn’t really want any observers. “I like your… bear shtick. It’s cool. But…” She gestured offhandedly to the rain that was now pouring down even harder than ever. “I got shit to do. Places to be. Monsters to burn.”

“It does, my stand at the market is called Honey Bri,” Brianne quipped though her voice remained monotonous. This Luce was a curious character that she was fascinated with, but she’d give her her space to continue throwing her flames. Perhaps she could find Sparky again, watch him run around the forest. Or find some unsuspecting hiker who was already afraid from the unexpected storm. The possibilities were endless. “Luce, I enjoy your work. The blue flames are a nice touch.” She meant as much. She had no doubt Luce could instill fear in others around her. With a nod, she figured she’d leave the witch to fuel her flames as she wished. “As you will. If you ever need a bear, you know where to find me.” Except she didn’t, but Bri shifted back into a bear and took off into the woods anyway.

#wickedswriting #raiju against the machine #luce

5 notes · View notes

tyrannoninja · 4 years ago

Text

The Demon Beneath the Dome

A woman climbed onto the bough of a kapok tree, which twisted up from the treetop canopy. Her lissome umber-brown figure, clad with a barkcloth skirt and halter-top, sparkled with droplets of perspiration beneath the hot glow of the sun piercing through the overcast sky. She raised her hand over her eyes, surveying the green ocean of jungle as it rolled in choppy waves all around her high vantage.

To the east rose a jagged range of overgrown crags, which ran in a ring like a caldera. Covering the basin within was a vast, terraced dome glimmering of corroded gold, with a circular hole in its summit. Under the shadow cast by the crater walls, the green-stained spires and roofs of ruined masonry poked through the jungle, but there appeared no evidence of a living settlement in the proximity of these ruins.

The woman shuddered slightly as she tightened her grip on her perch. She had heard the legends, but never considered them anything more than village storytellers’ way of frightening children into good behavior. Neither had she imagined that she would ever venture within sight of a place like they had described.

Dinanga, huntress of the village of Mungu, had spent the better half of the past moon-cycle searching for her younger sister Kazadi. The memory of the girl’s abduction, with men in blood-red loincloths lunging out of the undergrowth to seize and drag her away, had haunted Dinanga’s every dream with a vivid clarity that never faded. She would have taken those men for common marauders had she not tracked them all the way to such mysterious ruins. If the old myths had spoken the truth all that time, an even more terrible fate would await Kazadi.

Within the jungle to the southwest, someone screamed.

It was not the shrieking cry of a woman, but the deeper holler of a man. Dinanga did not know whether she should investigate. If she did, it might take time away from her sister. Whatever lay in store for Kazadi, she did not want it to happen over the course of a distraction.

Again, the cry of terror burst through the leafy canopy.

Dinanga dove back into the tangled depths of the forest understory, leaping between the branches and lianas with flashing swiftness and agility. She landed on a bough overhanging a narrow game trail through the undergrowth, a cluster of foliage beside it shaking with movement.

A slim male figure tripped over a tree’s buttress root with a hoarse yelp as he emerged. Stomping behind him on muscular hind legs was a tyrannosaur. As the man struggled to get up, the reptilian brute parted its salivating, spike-fanged jaws over his back.

Dinanga took her hunting bow from her python-skin sash and sent an arrow into the tyrannosaur’s scaly green neck.

The beast’s roar and host gust of breath blew her off the branch. Rolling over the soft earth upon landing, she hopped to the man and pulled him away from the snapping jaws by the wrist. His eyes widened with shock as he shrank from her.

Dinanga shouted over the tyrannosaur’s growling. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save you!”

The world above her turned dark. The monster’s black open gullet, dripping scalding drool, filled her field of sight while the rancid stink of its breath flooded her nostrils. Sheer terror petrified every muscle within Dinanga’s cowering body.

Yet, the bone-crunching bite did not come. The tyrannosaur threw its head up with another roar, even more shrill, a bloody streak running across the side of its lower jaw. The strange man taunted it with foreign curses while brandishing a bloody-edged horn dagger.

Yanking him away from the predator’s next attack, Dinanga led him running to a tree coiled with the woody vines of a strangler fig. They climbed halfway up its height before the tyrannosaur rammed its snout into the trunk. The man slipped off and plummeted towards the beast’s gaping mouth. Dinanga seized his forearm, wrenched him up from the beast’s jaws, and tossed him onto one of the overhead branches. She jumped onto this same branch and clung to it with a tight embrace as the tree shook from the weight of the tyrannosaur smacking against it. Neither she nor the man fell off again. With a resigned snort, the dinosaur gave them one last glance with its fiery yellow eyes before lumbering off.

Dinanga, panting with exhaustion, muttered a prayer that it would find worthier prey elsewhere. The man that huddled next to her brushed leaves off his short, braided hair. Though his skin was the same brown shade as Dinanga’s, his tall, elongated stature and narrower facial features attested to an origin on the dry, open savannas that stretched beyond these jungles. The tattered loincloth wrapped around his narrow hips was cut from pebbled reptilian leather instead of the forest-dwellers’ barkcloth.

“Who are you?” she asked. “You don’t look like you’re from here.”

The man shook his head. “Call me Heri, of the clan of Deshen out on the savanna. I was barely of age when our enemies, the clan of Mendi, carried me off in a raid. I’ve been traded and dragged far across the land ever since.”

He pointed to the crisscrossing mess of welts that marred his back like a hideous, dark reddish-purple tumor. A foul taste swelled into Dinanga’s mouth. She had heard of people being captured and forced to work for others in some of the larger chiefdoms, but never had she considered the brutality forced upon many of them.

“By the spirits, you’ve been through so much,” she said. “Tell me you don’t have someone hunting you down!”

“I ran away from them many moons ago. In truth, I don’t even know where I am in this land. All I know is that I’m nowhere near my people. They must have forgotten me by now.”Heri wiped off the moisture that had welled up in his eyes.

Dinanga hugged him and smiled. “If only I knew how to bring you back to them. I have family of my own missing. Half a moon ago, a group of men in red carried my sister off. I’ve been hunting them down ever since.”

“Have you caught up with them yet?”

“Almost. My tracking has led me to this strange place with old buildings and a big dome of gold inside a crater. You heard of such a place?”

“No, but I think I know what those men want of your sister. Beg the spirits that they haven’t done it already.”

“Then I must go. You want to come along? I would like someone to fight beside me if they can.”

With a nod, Heri slipped his dagger out of its sheath and ran his finger along its bloodied edge. “You saved me from that monster. I owe you my life for it.”

A colossus of black stone leaned over a path of mossy flagstone as it loomed up through the mist and undergrowth. Though eroded by generations of rainfall and cloaked with overgrowth, Dinanga could make out the contour of a hunched, squatting creature with wings akin to those of a bat or pterosaur folded behind its corpulent gorilla-armed body. Six gemstones glinted as orange as fire within its long flat head, its wrinkled trunk-like snout curled between giant spider-like fangs.

It took a single glance at this megalithic monstrosity for Dinanga to step back, a cold shiver overtaking her body. The old stories had become even truer before she set foot within the ancient village this sculpture guarded.

Heri clenched harder on his dagger’s hilt. “What, by all the spirits, would that be?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t of this earth,” Dinanga said.

They did not dare look back at the horrible statue as they tiptoed down the broad flagstone trail. On both sides of the avenue lay the crumbled, foliage-bedecked walls of stone huts amid piles of rubble, toppled columns, and potsherds. Interspersed between the buildings stood the pedestaled statues of men, women, and assorted creatures of the jungle—with none of these idols rivaling that of the alien giant in height or girth.

Every time her eyes met their unblinking gaze, Dinanga’s heartbeat paused. She murmured a prayer to her distant ancestors that they forgive her for trespassing through their former home.

As the road sloped up closer to the crater’s outer cliffs, the structures beside it reared higher than in the districts before, the columns inscribed with the faces of people and beasts supporting their upper stories. Mazes of cracked steps and raised pathways connected these former palaces and manors to one another like bridges, and to the main thoroughfare.

“Who built all this?” Heri asked. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Dinanga nodded. “They say that, many generations in the past, all the villages in the jungle answered to chieftains who lived here. That monster we saw back there was their god, a spirit they respected more than any other. Nobody knows for sure what happened to the people who lived here…or that ‘spirit’ of theirs.”

The avenue ended before a towering portal hewn into the rock of the crater’s side. Chiseled into both jambs along its entryway were reliefs that each depicted a sitting creature with six orange orbs for eyes, the same species as the colossus before. The perspiration on Dinanga’s brow turned cold. Her heart pulsed in a panicked frenzy.

Drums thumped from somewhere within. The ritual was already underway! Dinanga unslung her bow and ran through the portal, with Heri close behind.

It was not pitch dark inside the passageway, like she had expected. Rather, dim green light filled the passageway from the painted grooves of reliefs on the corridor walls, as did an unpleasant whiff of urine. The first of these images on both sides portrayed a storm of flaming balls showering down from the starry heavens upon the primordial earth. The next showed human figures prostrating before these spheres, in which were rendered some of the most frightful creatures Dinanga had ever seen represented in art of any form. Some beings had dozens or even hundreds of eyes, limbs, or maws lined with fangs or tentacles; others were pocked with warts, thorns, or bone-shaped protuberances. Among them was the same six-eyed, winged entity she and Heri had seen before.

Some of the later reliefs even showed people throwing young men and women to the horrors to be devoured like poultry. Were the beasts so terrible that they intimidated early humankind into placating their carnivorous appetites? Or did these otherworldly deities offer something in return for the sacrifices? If so, what on earth would it have been?

The echoing beat of the drums escalated, joined by a droning chant. Dinanga could not waste any more time gawking at the pictures on the walls. She and Heri had to get to her sister before the girl suffered the same fate as the victims of those ancient rites.

The passage did not run straight, but twisted in zigzags that sloped up and down through the rock. Only the faint green glow of the painted reliefs, and the increasing volume of the reverberant music, guided Dinanga and Heri through the subterranean labyrinth. Once brighter daylight beamed from the hallway’s end, they slowed their running down to a skulk and crouched behind the jambs on opposite sides of the exit.

A flat, narrow promontory of rock projected from the opening, fifty feet from the crater’s inner floor. From the central hole in the vaulted ceiling of gold, a shaft of sunlight ran straight down to a broader, circular space at the walkway’s end. Ringed by megalithic pillars at its edges, this balcony supported a disk-faced platform in its center, around which men and women in red-dyed clothing chanted in an unintelligible language while clapping and beating wooden drums. Behind the altar stood a woman mantled in a more brilliant shade of red than the rest, scarlet macaw feathers woven into her dreadlocks and blood-red paint zigzagging down her face and limbs. She beat the stone of the promontory with her crooked priestess’s staff, human skulls jangling from the top of it.

On the altar lay a motionless Kazadi.

The drums and chanting built into a frenetic storm of noise that resonated to a deafening extreme underneath the crater’s domed covering. Rising alongside was a putrid odor emanating from far below the promontory. The voices of the female worshipers heightened to yipping screeches while those of their male counterparts lowered into guttural croaking.

With one final, cracking bang of the drums, the music stopped. The priestess waved her staff of skulls and shouted coarse, unfamiliar words to the ceiling.

A vast, odoriferous mess of slimy dark gray mud, strewn with bones and streaks of luminous green fluid, churned and bubbled at the bottom of the crater basin. With a flatulent gurgle, the muck rose in a mound and cracked open to reveal six orange-red eyes on a flattened black head. Behind it emerged and unfolded a pair of leathery, yellow-veined wings tipped with claws like a bat’s. Droning like an overgrown mosquito underlain with a rumbling growl, the thing flapped itself out of the slime to the promontory’s terminus.

Dinanga wrapped her trembling arms tight around her bow. She could not deny the old stories any longer. The star-demons of yore were real.

The cultists in red retreated and knelt in unison as the hulking creature landed between the megaliths on four columnar limbs that glistened with wet black bristles. Advancing on its knuckles in an apelike manner to the altar, it unfurled a wrinkled proboscis between its mandibles and extended it to Kazadi. Tentacles at its end rubbed wet trails of saliva over her skin. The girl’s arms twitched, her eyes opened wide, and she screamed.

Dinanga shot an arrow at the star-demon, piercing the wing’s thick skin. The creature’s eyes blazed brighter than embers as an echoing metallic shriek escaped its trunk. The people in red turned to face Dinanga, their teeth bared in anger.

The priestess thrust the tip of her staff in the huntress’s direction. “How dare you attack our god!”

Dinanga drew another arrow, now pointed toward the priestess. “I’ve come for my sister, witch!”

“Then get her at your risk!”

Dinanga released the arrow. The priestess dodged it with a sidestep, then vaulted over her followers in a single jump and swung her staff at the huntress. The bundle of skulls slapped Dinanga aside, throwing her to the edge of the promontory. She grabbed the lip of the walkway before she could slip off, her feet dangling in the muggy air of the basin.

Her fingernails scratched over the stony surface. The priestess stood above her with a cruel smirk as she raised her staff again.

An arm shot out from behind the priestess and wrung her away by the neck. It was Heri. Shoving the red-mantled woman to the side, he snatched Dinanga’s wrist and pulled her back onto the promontory.

One of the male worshipers punched him on the cheek and off his footing. Dinanga whacked the assailant’s brow with her bow, grabbed him by the throat, and pushed him into a group of his allies. With slashing swipes of her bow and sweeps of her legs, she fended off the remaining cultists’ attacks.

The priestess grappled her from behind and slammed her onto the rock. One kick rolled Dinanga back to the edge.

Over the clamor of the fight, Kazadi screamed again from the clutches of the star-demon’s talons. Its tentacled trunk engulfed her head, muffling her voice.

Stabbing the rock with the tip of her bow to still herself, Dinanga sprang to her feet and unleashed an arrow into one of the star-demon’s eyes. It spat Kazadi out with a screeching wail and staggered onto one of the megaliths at the terminus edge, toppling it over with a crash of its wings. The rock of the promontory quaked under the being’s confused stomping until it stumbled off the promontory and fell.

Dinanga started to run towards her sister, but the priestess leaped into her way with another swing of her staff. The huntress parried it with her bow, but the blow splintered her weapon apart.

The priestess cackled. “You’re outmatched. How will you save your sister now?”

“With my help,” Heri said.

He slashed his dagger across the priestess’s breast. She dropped her staff of skulls, which Dinanga seized and used to bat the woman off the promontory. The screams of the leader of the worshipers trailed away as she fell, finally ending with her faint splash into the muck below.

Dinanga hurried to Kazadi and embraced her. “Are you all right?”

Kazadi groaned and blinked as she wrung fetid drool out of her braids. “Where are we?”

“Wherever it is, we’re getting out as soon as we can.”

The star-demon’s surviving worshipers yelled a vengeful war cry and charged in a wall down the promontory’s remaining length. Dinanga, Kazadi, and Heri hopped onto the altar and launched themselves over the raging army. With a flurry of kicks, punches, and the slashing of Heri’s dagger, they sent the remainder of the cultists hurtling off to join their deity and priestess in the mud at the bottom of the crater.

Dinanga inhaled deeply and sighed with relief after they had run out of the portal on the outer side. Even the musty scent of the wild jungle was a relaxing fragrance compared to the infernal stench that had swamped the crater under the dome.

Kazadi blinked with a shake of her head. “How long has it been?”

“Why, it’s been over half a moon, sister,” Dinanga said. “Remember those old tales about the demons from beyond the stars? Those men and women in red meant to sacrifice you to one of them, like our ancient ancestors did.”

“By the spirits, you mean those stories were true all along? I can’t believe it. But at least that creature has plenty of dead to gorge upon now—if it even survived its fall.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Heri said. “Its landing would have been soft down there, and who knows how hungry those things get?”

“Even so, it’s trapped under that big dome behind us,” Dinanga said. “Let it feast and then starve to death.”

A banging, crumbling crash followed, as blocks of weathered gold flew off the summit of the dome. Up soared the star-demon with a terrible droning screech, dripping wet with the dark slime of its lair. Its five good eyes scintillated with fury as it swooped down.

The three raced down the avenue through the ruins. The creature accelerated its pursuit until it emerged in front of them. As it veered to face its prey, its beating wings stirred up a gust of wind that knocked down a chunk of stone overpass to block their way. It then grabbed Kazadi with a clawed hand and raised her towards its proboscis.

Dinanga chucked one of her last arrows like a javelin into its crotch. The star-demon did not even flinch. Heri flung his dagger at it, but the star-demon evaded it with a flap that lifted it overhead. It plucked him off the ground with its other hand while half-swallowing Kazadi.

Dinanga ran to one of the piles of rubble, hauled up a hunk of masonry, and hurtled it into the star-demon’s thigh. Fluttering in the air with anguished squeals, it released Heri and reflexively vomited out Kazadi. Dinanga caught her sister in her arms and fled from underneath the reeling monster, along with Heri. They reached the colossus at the ruins’ edge, but again, the star-demon caught up with them. It landed atop its own stone likeness and jumped onto the road before them. The earth under their feet shook them onto the flagstones under the otherworldly horror’s shadow.

A deep, explosive roar resounded. It was not the star-demon. The rage in the thing’s eyes dimmed as its bristles suddenly stood on end. Breaking out from the jungle and storming towards it was the tyrannosaur.

The two beasts faced each other with an exchange of threatening roars and screeches, the tyrannosaur thrashing its head about and snapping the air while the star-demon waved its arms with wings outspread.

“We should leave now,” Heri whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Dinanga shook her head. “We can’t let the star-demon win. It must die once and for all. No one should worship it anymore.”

The tyrannosaur chomped onto the star-demon’s arm with a crunch of chitinous skin beneath the bristles. The six-eyed monster freed itself by punching its attacker in the jaws, then hooked its other arm around the tyrannosaur’s neck while clawing at it with the first. It swatted its wings in a struggling effort to lift itself off the ground with the dinosaur in its hold. The tyrannosaur, slashing across its alien adversary’s breast with a short two-clawed arm, wriggled itself loose and beat the star-demon aside with its snout. The being from beyond the heavens collided into its own statue, turning it over and smashing it to pieces with a terrific tremor.

The tyrannosaur pressed a foot onto the fallen star-demon’s belly, cracking the skin underneath and spurting out viscous yellow-green blood. The demon slapped it away with flailing forelimbs. With a push and a sweep of its wings, the wounded being pounced onto the reptilian brute and shoved it into an obelisk on the other side of the old road. The star-demon then turned its attention to the three humans, the glow of its eyes flashing with a laughing growl as it captured Dinanga in its grip.

Kazadi pried out one of the orange gemstones from the statue’s fallen face and threw it onto the creature’s hand. The gem’s sharp edge buried itself into the monster’s knuckle, enabling Dinanga to slip down from its loosened grip. The demon withdrew its other forelimb for another slashing swipe until the tyrannosaur bit onto its biceps from behind. Between those saurian jaws and teeth, the demon’s upper arm crumpled into a pulp of alien blood and bristled chitin. A final wrenching motion of the dinosaur’s head ripped the star-demon’s arm out of its socket, then the tyrannosaur delivered a crushing bite to its extraterrestrial enemy’s throat. The star-demon’s high-pitched whine broke up into a buzzing rattle as it fell onto the shattered remains of its own idol.

The tyrannosaur threw its head upward, with droplets of yellowish blood cascading from its mouth. It let out its loudest roar of triumph to the heavens.

Dinanga, Kazadi, and Heri rushed into the jungle, out of the predator’s sight. Between the buttress roots of a kapok tree, they stopped to catch their breath, all racked with strain and sweating in rivulets.

Dinanga hugged her sister with all the exhausted strength she could muster. “Thank our ancestors that I found you before it was too late.”

“Thank you both for coming to my rescue,” Kazadi said. “Who may this strange man be, may I ask?”

“Call me Heri, of the clan of Deshen over on the open plains,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about my life over the night. All I can say now is that I’m happy that’s all over with. And I get to have two pretty young women walking by my side.”

Kazadi giggled while Dinanga groaned. “You men are all the same,” Dinanga said.

Heri winked at her. “And you women are not? Maybe you’ll change your mind after a few days.”

“If that’s what you want, maybe you could start changing my mind by fetching me some wood, flint, and twine. I need a new bow and more arrows.”

Together they laughed as they walked toward the distant village of Mungu, their backs turned to the great ruined village and the domed den of its slain god.

You can read this and several more short stories in my collection Beasts & Beauties, available for purchase on Amazon.com!

#short story #fiction #writing #dinosaur #tyrannosaurus rex #african #black woman #woc #poc #women of color #people of color #fantasy #prehistoric #monster #demon #lovecraft inspired

2 notes · View notes

maverick-werewolf · 6 years ago

Note

This is a weird one but I'm curious. With werewolf stories there come a couple of cliches/tropes used when telling a story. I want to do a story about cliches and the topic of werewolves come into it. So my question... what cliches/tropes do you associate with werewolves? Can be what you like or don't like - thanks and sorry for such a weird ask ^^

(Sorry this took me so long to get around to; I really need to catch up on my ask backlog.)

I love all asks, including weird ones! Not that I’d call this one terribly weird, really.

There are a lot I associate with them, and plenty I do not like. Let me see if I can do a quick list. I said “quick” when I first wrote this post, then I wrote a small book, apologies in advance.

Note that pretty much any of these can be done well, and I’ll probably mention that. But there are some I truly cannot abide on a personal level.

One of these lists is longer than the other. Note I am doing tropes I actually have seen in popular culture, not ones I’d like to see, since that’d be a totally different topic and an even longer post! I also have a post here for a few little tips about writing werewolves/werecreatures.

Ones I like:

Eating people - Okay, so it was weird to open with this. But I like werewolves that eat people. Some people don’t. I do. I like them being big scary man-eating monsters. They can eat people and still be good (only eat bad people!), or they can be feral monsters with a taste for human flesh. I just like werewolves that eat people because… I just do. I also like them eating people alive in every sense of the word, as I covered in another fact (but not being mega stupid about it like wolves often were in later folk tales).

Voracious in general/insatiable - And taking off that first one, I do like werewolves that are voracious in general and/or have insatiable appetites. It’s a wolf trope, yeah. But I love it. The normal guy eats a steak. The werewolf eats like 8 giant steaks and is hungry again in a few hours. It’s fun!

Werewolves as wolves - In contrast to one on the list of things I don’t like, I enjoy werewolves exploring their wolfish side and/or exhibiting it, even in human form. It can be done horribly, of course, and I think it is immensely, endlessly silly when all werewolves in a setting are this way, but a few of them ending up like this (especially ones closer to their wolf side somehow) can be great. I am biased, of course, because the protagonist in a series of medieval fantasy werewolf novels I’ve been working on my entire life is a lot like this. The instincts, the love of raw meat… all that stuff. Not the overly silly stuff (more on that in “werewolves as dogs” and “dog jokes,” but the interesting, badass, wolfish stuff.

Moon association - I do actually like the pop culture association with werewolves and the moon.

Werewolves as guardians/protectors - This is a fairly rare one, but I do enjoy it when werewolves are guardians or protectors of something, like goodness in general, or guardians of nature, and all that sort of thing. Now, if they’re just guardians to some macguffin thing or some other very specific thing and it turns them into basically guardian golems or something? That’s pretty lame. But it can be cool. And werewolves as protectors of the innocent, that kind of stuff (like occurred in legend pretty often, as I’ve mentioned in several werewolf facts).

Dark forests - I love me some classic dark forest setting with a werewolf in it, and a distant, chilling howl when in creepy, foggy woods at night.

Loyal to the core - A trope among some werewolves is that they are super loyal. I like that.

Bloodthirsty - This doesn’t mean “evil,” this just means… well, bloodthirsty. I don’t like it as a trait for “all” werewolves, like all werewolves in a setting, but a bloodthirsty werewolf character, always itching for a fight and enjoying the smell of spilt blood? I have biases. My protagonist in Wulfgard is one, and I love them.

Basically the Hulk - The Hulk would be awesome if he was a werewolf, because he’s a lot of my favorite werewolf tropes. You won’t like him when he’s angry/volatile temper that will destroy everything, but when turned, he’s actually a good, gentle giant who saves people, despite his own opinions about his other form. (I am talking classic Hulk; newer Hulk stuff has, IMO, not reflected this very well, or else chosen simply not to do that/explore it)

Painful/traumatic transformation - I love painful transformations. I do not like some kinds of transformations (I detest the skin flaying/wolf bursting out of a person/etc), but make it hurt. Make them scream. Traumatize anyone who has to see or so much as hear it and traumatize the werewolf if they remember it. I am cruel.

Werewolf angst - Okay, so I know a lot of people in werewolf circles moan about “werewolf angst.” I like it. There. I said it. It can be done horribly, of course, and it’s often overused, but this is absolutely no reason to condemn it altogether. It can still make for a truly awesome story.

Noble werewolves - A personal favorite, obviously!

Werewolves are sexy/more attractive than most people - I mean. I’m okay with this. I like the whole primal sexiness thing, as silly and overdone as it can be at times. Don’t you want someone with a wild side? And all that.

Involuntary transformation - I also like this in general. It can be done horribly, just like anything else, but usually I like it a lot and prefer it to werewolves just being a superpower you can flick on and off (although those can be done well, too, for sure, and I do not dislike voluntary transformation).

Ones I do not like:

Dog jokes (barking, sniffing crotches, peeing everywhere, chasing things, etc.) - Unpopular opinion time! Get all of this away from me. Far away. It is not funny, it is so old and worn out and absolutely overused and predictable now, and can we please stop turning werewolves into jokes and actually take them seriously ever? It’s truly terrible and the biggest factor that set me on this path to try to convince the world to take werewolves seriously again. And the second a werewolf barks, I am out and you will never see me again. Wolves. Do not. Bark. (It felt very good to vent this, even if I will probably get trolled and flamed into oblivion later.)

Werewolves as dogs - Generally having any dog-like qualities; goes hand in hand with the previous one. Please at least treat them like wild animals, because they are wolves, not domesticated. They do not have domesticated dog instincts. They do not have domesticated dog qualities. They are half man, half wolf.

Plague - I do not like this modern idea that werewolves are basically disease victims, especially since lycanthropy was not considered a “disease” until fairly recently. That they are only dangerous because they are diseased, not because they’re giant hulking intelligent monsters that can kill you with ease and are borderline invincible. I don’t mind the “lycanthropy as a disease” thing, or the transmission by bite - I think it can be done well and I use the bite transmission myself. I just do not think it should be presented as a plague, and anything that uses phrases like “werewolf infestation” will immediately raise my ire. Werewolves are not plague rats.

Only dangerous in packs and/or giant hordes like zombies - This goes a lot with the previous one. In a lot of things, werewolves are only dangerous in giant hordes and are basically zombies. I also don’t like the idea that werewolves are only dangerous in a pack. An individual werewolf should be more than capable and terrifying enough on its own.

Always evil - I hate this so much. This is easily one of the main things I am fighting against with werewolves. That’s all I have to say, except for things I have already said, and unless I want to rewrite my entire 150+ page thesis here in this blog post.

Werewolves as just plain stupid - This infuriates me. This is a thing for wolves and werewolves alike: they are often just stupid. Dumb. Unintelligent. They do dumb things. In folklore, the wolf is even described by scholars from the Middle Ages as “stupid.” That is absolutely ridiculous. Werewolves were very smart in folklore, and in fact that was a huge part of what made them scary (their human intelligence), and not the modern day “don’t worry it’ll bash itself against the wall in a mad fit until it dies” werewolves.

Scared of fire and/or weak to it - Berserkers and some other werewolves were specifically described as being “immune to fire.” And why would a werewolf be scared of fire, like someone waving a torch around? They’re half human. They know what fire is.

Random encounter/common monster - Werewolves should be powerful, scary, and viewed with at least some amount of awe. There shouldn’t be something such as monster hunters hoping for “a run-of-the-mill werewolf attack.” There should be nothing run of the mill about werewolves, that cheapens them immensely. A werewolf or werewolves shouldn’t be the random encounter you roll in your tabletop game (they are also often immensely low level and it pains me), because that’s also cheapening them into simple, unscary, uninteresting cannon fodder.

Werewolves as sexual predators/serial killers/cannibals/crazy people in general - This came from werewolves being turned into crazy people/being a werewolf being considered merely a form of madness. It’s… bad. It helped spawn the whole “all werewolves are evil” thing that the Early Modern Period tried to popularize (and succeeded), and werewolves were never associated with sexual assault, etc. And yes, I know of the “werewolf trials” that were rebranded into werewolf trials that were about people who did things like that, but those were witches (more on the main culprit here).

Werewolves vs vampires - It’s very overdone. It can be done well, but it usually isn’t, and it’s considered the “default” today despite having no folkloric precedence and that just kind of irks me. It also considerably cheapens them both and makes pretty much all the characters of either type just end up revolving around each other and/or the conflict in some way or another, and they basically never get to be their own character(s).

Association with Victorian England - I am very tired of this one.

Association with demons and/or witches - Werewolves are not unholy and they’re so much more than just witches. The latter is a theme throughout my werewolf facts.

“I’m not actually a werewolf”/Just call them werewolves - Okay, so this is a pretty big irksome one for me. A werewolf is a werewolf is a werewolf. Werewolf means someone who turns into a wolf or wolf-man hybrid. “Wolf shifters” are werewolves, regardless of if they follow Hollywood werewolf tropes (because those are just Hollywood, too!). Worgen are werewolves. You don’t have to call them something weird in order for them to be cool and/or to justify them not holding to Hollywood werewolf tropes, especially since most things call vampires “vampires” and that’s just fine. Let’s remove the weird stigma around the word “werewolf” (back to the not taking them seriously thing, and in some cases, assuming they are all/making them all evil). This also applies to things like Twilight (side-note: I do not hate Twilight), where the “werewolves” turn around and say oh, no, we’re not werewolves, we are just people who turn into wolves [which is what werewolves are], werewolves are evil. Right, okay.

Gornography - I like werewolves and gore just fine, don’t get me wrong. Werewolves would maul people. Yes. They are huge and have huge claws and fangs and they’d be covered in blood. Werewolves and gore is awesome. But I do not like werewolves existing solely for the gore shock value and/or people who are into all the gore. They are often cheapened in this way, and it’s lame.

Werewolf names - I mean, sometimes they’re okay, and they can be done well. But Remus Lupin? Fenrir Greyback? Ms Lupescu? Can… we please make the werewolf character(s) have any character traits other than “I’m a werewolf!”? And maybe they shouldn’t broadcast their lycanthropy to the world. Characters with names like these come across as insanely contrived, namely (pun intended) if they aren’t born as werewolves to proud werewolf parents who want to name their kid(s) something like that. If they were turned later in life? That’s… convenient. And names like that really imply they are one-note characters, whether they really are or not (though they often are, sadly).

Werewolves super easily and sometimes instantly killed - “All we need is a [one] silver bullet!” says pop culture. Good grief. Gimme a break.

The werewolf always dies - This is a thing. The werewolf always has to die. Individual werewolf, a group of werewolves… they always die and/or are wiped out. The Wolf Man (1941) kind of started this, and everyone picked up on it (look at the overwhelming majority of horror movies after that, with a rare exception of Wolf [1994]), right down to werewolf side characters like the ones in Harry Potter and The Graveyard Book. For some reason, the werewolf and/or werewolves usually have to die, and often we see an end to the “curse.” Put frankly, that’s lame. This is one of many reasons why I love that Red Riding Hood (2011) movie so much (I have another post on that, for anyone interested).

Okay, so not all of those are tropes, but I had an opportunity to rant and I’m afraid I went and took it. Sorry!

I, of course, can be made to like most any werewolf as long as they are scary, intimidating, preferably big, do not have to work in groups in order to be formidable at all (a single werewolf should be a huge problem), are taken seriously (preferably no dog jokes; dog jokes instantly fill me with primal rage because they are dumb and overused and cheapen werewolves immensely and I hate them and sorry if that was candid), are not plague rats/zombie plague (there are not thousands of them in droves, are only dangerous in hordes, and are slaughtered en masse with great ease, and are only dangerous because they can “infect” others), aren’t always villains, don’t always have to die, and… that somewhat covers it. And I already said those things. Why did I repeat myself? I really dunno.

*deep breath*

That doesn’t cover all of the tropes on either side, by any means - I think about werewolves all the time, so I could definitely think up more, and I’m sure there are a lot more out there. But this is a honkin’ big list anyway, so it’s good for starters. Hope that helps! And thank you for asking. :D

#asks #theevilemster #werewolves #werewolf #lycanthropy #lycanthropes #werewolf tropes #tropes #cliches #creative writing #fiction writing #movies #games #giant post #wolfmen #wolf shifters #shifters #folklore

279 notes · View notes

imaginemyboys-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Lost and Found

Sister Winchester

No pairing

Summery: Y/N has never had a good life so she is leaving it behind. She is leaving behind the hurt, the pain, and the loss. She has no destination, no plan for the future but will she find someplace to call home.

You hiked you bag up further, didn't dare to look behind you. There was nothing there for you. No point at looking at the house that caused you so much pain. You were done with foster family's and people that used you. While not all of them were bad this last one would give you nightmares for years to come. You felt dirty and used and in all honesty didn't see the point on continueing, but you would. They would not get the better of you, the world would not win. No matter how hard the world beat you down you would keep a stiff upper lip and keep going. You had two months till you turned 18 anyway what was the point in staying another second in that hell hole.

So you made your way down the street and out of town, no destination in mind just away. Away from the pain and heartache and the loss. You let the moon guide you once the lights of the town were behind you. Walking until the first rays of light peaked above the fields. The sun is brighter than your future but at least you were leaving the darkness of your past, or so you hoped.

You knew you didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, the only thing you had from your father was his last name, Winchester. You didn't even know if he knew you were alive and if he did, he deffinently didn't care. Your mother had left you at the church when you were four. It was before Nebraska had changed the law on the age of limitations for safe-haven so she was able to get rid of you, to throw you away like last week's trash. You didn't know what you could have done to elicit such a thing but you must have done something for her to give you up. You bounced around from house to house until now, here you were leaving all the heartache behind and moving forward. You knew your future looked bleak but anything was better than what you were leaving behind.

A Month Later

You shivered on the ground. Sitting in the corner of an abandoned warehouse, trying and failing to get some sleep. It was too cold, the wind howled through the warehouse, tearing through your thin jacket and jeans. You were curled up, your knees drawn up to your chest, your eyes vigilant, searching the dark. You were never safe and even if you were able to sleep you know it wouldn't be deep. You knew you would jolt awake at every little noise or gust of wind. A loud bang to your right startled you. Your eyes searched the darkness trying to pinpoint what made the sound. You had seen a lot of strange unexplainable things in the past month and you didn't want to know what could be lurking in the darkness. What could be waiting in the shadows for the right moment to attack. A scraping along the ground started up, a deep growl emitting from the darkness, growing in volume, getting closer and closer to you.

“Hello! Who's there?” You called out. Hoping it was somehow your imagination.

The growl grew louder and all your instincts urged you to run. So you listened and bolted, a roar erupted from behind you, your own scream echoing in response. Every cell in your body telling you to get away as fast as you could. You crashed out of the warehouse, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your heart pounding in your ears, your feet slapping the pavement. You spared a glance behind you, only to see the thing gaining on you. You saw a corner ahead, hoping to lose the monster by hiding. That there was something on the other side of that corner to duck behind. Pushing yourself a little harder, trying to make it around that corner, hoping to find safety, you ran.

Careening around the corner you slammed into someone, bouncing off of them and falling to the ground. Your head bounced off the pavement and you felt disoriented, the bangs of a gun sounded above you. You flinched at each gun shot, you didn't want to look up and see cops, cops were your worst nightmare. You would rather that monster kill you then go with some cops. Knowing that the cops would throw you back into the system. A guttural cry followed by a thump behind you told you the monster was dead. You stood up, your eyes landing on two men who most definitely weren't cops.

Both tall and imposing, dressed in jeans and flannel. You really wanted to bolt, but you knew if they wanted to catch you they would. They both held pistols in their hands, pointed towards the ground but their finger just a hair's breadth away from the trigger. Blood splattered across the shorter ones face. They stood there like giants ready to strike down anything.

“Are you okay?” The man with the longer hair and bigger build asked. His shoulders relaxing from the tense coil they had been in. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans, his partner(?) doing the same.

You jerkily nodded, your mind moving a mile a minute trying to figure out how to get out of this situation and where you're going to sleep tonight. Maybe you would try under the bridge of the freeway, near the river. Cops rarely patrolled there, you may get a few hours of sleep in.

“Hey kid, what the hell were you doing out here?” The other man asked, accusation clear in his tone.

“It's none of your business,” You shot back, your chin tilted up diffidently. You didn't want them to see the fear that was still gripping your heart on your face.

“Can we at least drive you home?” The taller one offered.

“No thank you” Your head looked behind you, already mapping out the walk to the river, “Thanks for saving my life and all, but I should be going.”

You tried not to tense up as you walked away. You hated turning your back on people but you had to get out of this situation. Before they asked too many questions, before they found out anything about you. People when they found out that you were a 17 year old girl living on the streets, well let's just say they took advantage of the situation. You didn't need to spend any more time alone with two strange men, it didn't matter if they saved your life or not.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a strong gust of wind blew. You could hear the men behind you, talk and moving about but you out one foot in tint of the other. Taking you further and further away from them. Further away from the monster that had tried to kill you. You looked up at the moon, the only constant in your life now. Wondering where it would take you next.

You walked along the two lane highway in the early light of the rising sun. You hadn't been able to sleep the night before, the lingering fear from the incedent, as you were calling it, kept you awake. So here you were, ready to move on from this town and to the next, dead on your feet just wishing you had the money for breakfast but knowing your pockets were empty. Cars rushed past you periodically, never slowly, not a glance spared your way. It was times like this you wished someone would stop, ask you if you were okay, take you in and be family. But you knew the reality, that if someone did stop it wasn't out of the kindness of their heart but that they wanted something from you.

You didn't trust anyone and rightfully so. No one had ever treated you with kindness. You heard the rumbling of an engine slow down beside you. Your shoulders hunched inward, knowing that if they paid you enough you would do anything. You felt disgusting but the emptiness of your stomach was too prevalent to ignore.

“Hey kid you alright?” A familiar voice shouted.

Your head shot up, eyes wide as you looked upon your saviors from the night before. You shrug your shoulders in response, trying to act nonchalant but the biting cold and the hunger made you look more pathetic than anything.

“I'm Dean this is my brother Sam, we saved ya last night.” Dean said from behind the wheel, “Where's your family kid?”

“Don't got none, not that it's any of your business,” You mumbled a reply.

“Where are you going?” Sam spoke up from beside his brother.

You just shrugged in reply. Both brothers looked at each other and seemed to have a silent conversation. After awkwardly standing outside their car while they communicated they seemed to come to an agreement.

“How about we take you to breakfast kid,” Dean offered.

You shuddered internally, trying not to think of what they would want in return. The growling of your stomach reminding you that you hadn't eaten in days.

“How am I supposed to pay y'all back?” You asked, shoving your hands in your pockets, shifting from foot to foot.

“Kid you don't have to pay us back. You look like your about to keel over any second. You look like you could use some food and we were heading to breakfast anyway.” Dean spoke his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Yeah right, no one does things out of the kindness of their heart,” You bit back.

“Well we are. So if you want breakfast get in.” Dean gruffly apple back.

You reached for the handle, knowing that you would end up regretting the decision. Hunger always did win though.

Sam turned around once you were sitting in the backseat and Dean started driving.

“What's your name?” He asked

“Y/N. Y/N Winchester” You replayed.

The screeching of brakes erupted and you flew forward, slamming into the seat in front of you before colliding into the seat you were sitting out. Dean whipped around his eyes wild.

“Did you say Winchester?”

Part 2

Want to support me

#Lost and Found #supernatural #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #spn #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #winchester sister #sister winchester #winchester sisfic #imaginemyboys fic #imaginemyboys imagine #my writing

54 notes · View notes

enkelimagnus · 5 years ago

Photo

A Winx Club Shadowhunters AU - Clizzy, Malec & others

Her name is Clary Fairchild, and she’s an entirely normal 19-year-old human girl.

Except she isn’t. That comes at a complete surprise just as she’s about to die a horrible death at the hands of a yellow ogre. That’s just what she gets for trying to save Isabelle, a fairy Princess from the planet Solaria.

Her life is changed forever as she embarks on a journey that will give her more than she could ever hope for.

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Event - On AO3

Amber Fairchild let her fingers trace over the black smudgy lines of her daughter’s charcoal drawing of a landscape of Gardenia. In particular, it was a drone-view of the area where the Fairchilds’ house was located.

Behind it, on the cork board, was pinned another charcoal drawing, these times of fairies. Amber could only see two but she knew there were 3. They were quite beautiful. Clary was getting better at facial expressions.

On the drawing desk were a couple of more sheets of paper. Two versions of the same castle, a fairytale-worthy structure, complete with thin flags flowing over the towers, from different views. And a portrait of a woman. The woman strangely looked like Clary. Like a family resemblance.

Amber wondered if Clary was drawing what she thought her birthparents looked like. Amber and William Fairchild had never hidden the fact that Clary was adopted from her. It had never seemed to be an issue for Clary, but maybe she was starting to want to know more.

That was knowledge that the Fairchilds didn’t have. William had found Clary in a house fire, eighteen years ago.

Clary had turned nineteen less than a week ago.

It was a bit of a shock, for Amber. Her baby was all grown up now. She was going to start her second year at the prestigious Gardenia Academy of Art in a couple of weeks, and she was growing into a fierce and wonderful young lady.

Amber stepped over the clothing and the books that were scattered over the floor. Clary was maybe an adult now, but she was still a messy teenager.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Amber called, slightly louder than she usually would. "The sun’s been up for ages!"

The dog that they owned, a fawn-and-white one-year-old whippet named Kiko that was surprisingly human some days, was napping in his basket next to the bed.

Clary shifted in her bed, only her red hair visible in between her pillow and the duvet.

"Five more minutes, Mom," she grumbled and buried her face impossibly further into the pillow. Amber smiled widely and moved a little closer.

"You’re late, Clary!" She said softly, in a sing-song voice, right next to her daughter’s face.

There was a second-long beat, during which Clary put two and two together and suddenly she bolted out of bed. "FUCK!" She cursed loudly as she ran around the room. "How the fuck did I miss my alarm?"

Amber winced at the curses. Yes, they had allowed uncensored swearing to Clary on her 18th birthday, but that didn’t mean it was easy to get used to.

"It’s the first day of the school year, none of my things are ready, what the fuck was I thinki-" Clary stopped, one leg down her jeans and looked up.

"Hang on a sec," she said softly, before turning towards her mother. "YOU. That’s SO not funny," she grumbled.

Amber chuckled. School was not starting again before a couple of weeks. "You fell for it, didn’t you?" She crossed her arms.

Clary finished putting on her black croptop and ripped jeans, before falling bad onto the bed dramatically. "I don’t care. I’m going back to bed."

Amber sighed. "It’s 9am. Late enough."

Clary huffed and slid under her duvet again. Kiko jumped onto the bed and snuggled against her.

Amber looked at her softly. "You should try going to bed earlier, you know. You were up really late last night." William and her had gone to bed relatively late, and they had seen the light under the door of her bedroom.

"I was reading..." Clary sighed.

Amber grabbed the book she was pointing at from the floor. The cover had a fairy on it, just like Clary’s drawings. She sighed. This was a little more mature and scientific, if there was such thing as the scientific study of fairies.

""Fairies: Myth or Reality?"" She read out, and huffed. "Urgh, don’t you ever get tired of these silly things?" She asked softly.

Clary shook her head. "I don’t. I like them."

Amber nodded. "Alright then. Who am I to call them silly if you care about them so much?"

Clary sat up on her bed. With her messy hair and her tired look, she still looked like a child to Amber. Her smile was still as contagious.

"Thanks, Mom," she said softly.

Amber waved it off. "Oh, It’s nothing, darling. Now, come get coffee."

--------------

Since she’d woken up early, Clary guessed she got to be doing some stuff. She’d decided to take Kiko on a trip to the park. The park allowed for dogs to be unleashed, as long as people were careful.

It was Clary and Kiko’s favorite place to go. Usually, Clary would run around and play for a while, before sitting down by her favorite tree and drawing while Kiko either went to run around or laid by her feet.

Clary rode her bike, with Kiko secured in a basket, to the park, where she settled at her usual spot. She put her back against the tree and grabbed Kiko’s toy.

After a few rounds of throwing and running and playing, she decided to sit down. Kiko still seemed to have a bunch of energy so she let him go play."Go on Kiko, but stick around, alright?" She called.

She sat down on the grass and grabbed her sketchpad. She barely had time to get drawing that Kiko came back, howling, absolutely terrified.

"What’s the matter Kiko?" Clary asked, gently patting the terrified animal. She stood up, looking towards the part of the park Kiko had come running from.

It was a deeper, wilder part, where people went a little more rarely. She swallowed and stepped forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her bag and walking into the bushes.

Kiko followed, whining at her feet, almost trying to tell her not to come. Clary stopped next to a clearing, as strange noises were coming from it.

From behind the tree, Clary saw something that she couldn’t really explain.

It was a woman. More exactly, it was the most beautiful woman Clary had ever seen. Her tan skin radiated with a glow that definitely couldn’t come from only body glitter. Clary swallowed. She wore shorts and a one-shoulder crop top, made of a glittery golden orange material, that hugged her curves perfectly. She had matching heeled boots. Her dark hair was parted into two low pigtails, held with golden orange bands.

Clary’s eyes opened wider. From the woman’s shoulder blades sprouted translucent blue wings. They were delicate and beautiful, glittering gently with every motion of her body.

She was fighting, kicking at strange monsters. She had a cyan-blue scepter with a sun-shaped circle at the top, in her left hand, and Clary focused on that rather than the rest of the seriously wrong things happening in front of her.

"Rising Sun!" The woman shouted, and a blast of blinding golden light erupted from her right hand, sending one of the monsters tumbling down, screaming in pain, before it quickly disappeared in a pile of ash.

"Wow!" Clary heard herself say. She could feel the power that came from the woman. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. "Goodness, did you see that Kiko?" The dog was hiding, trembling, behind a log.

"Solar Wind!" This time, the wave of light was more diffuse, but it still was successful in burning away a number of the small monsters. It was... it was like the woman was doing spells. That and the wings... Clary felt a headache forming between her temples.

“I am warning you," the woman spoke out. Her voice was calmer than Clary’s would have been in the same situation. "Leave this realm now or you will feel the magical wrath of the Sun and Moon fairy!"

The yellow monster erupted in a loud laugh, that turned into an animalistic snarl, and then it charged. It started running, full speed, towards the relatively small - if unnaturally powerful - woman.

She put up a fight, but was violently shoved backwards. Clary saw her fly over a short distance and land painfully on the grassy ground.

"Oh my god!" Clary exclaimed.

The woman wasn’t getting up. She was laying very close to where Clary was still hidden, and she wasn’t getting up. She was trying, but the painful landing had cut off her breath and she was struggling to regain it.

"Your time is up fairy!" The monster shouted. It turned to the smaller monsters, red, ant-like creatures. "Take the scepter! Give me that scepter!"

The small creatures pounced. Clary almost screamed as they attacked the woman on the ground, holding her down and prying open her fingers to get the scepter out of her hand.

They ended up managing to get it from her when they used their paws to block out her eyes and mouth, keeping her from breathing and seeing. She instinctively let go of the scepter, and the monsters took advantage of that.

The yellow monster smirked as the scepter was given to him. "Not so strong now, are you?" He growled, and moved, aiming towards the fallen woman with the scepter.

Clary moved without thinking. She ran out from the trees and stood in front of the woman, standing tall and looking at the monster with a hiss. "Let her go!"

The monster raised its eyebrows. Yes, it had eyebrows. What the fuck?

"Get her!" It roared.

She saw the monsters coming at her. She felt the flame inside of her. It built from her heart to her fingertips, burning, pulsing, wanting to get out. And it did. She felt the flame leave her skin and radiate around her, and the monsters died as they touched it.

She blinked, her fingers tingling. One of the remaining monsters grabbed Kiko’s tail, making him yelp loudly. "Hands off Kiko!" Clary grabbed a branch and beat it off of him.

Well. She wasn’t that bad at self-defense.

A giant yellow hand wrapped around her wrists, pinning both of them in one crushing grip. She groaned loudly in pain and tried to get away.

She felt it again. With the pain crushing her wrists, came also the flame. It burnt again, from her heart onwards. She closed her eyes and felt it escape her body again.

The monster screamed in agony. Clary pried her eyes open, only to be blinded by a too-bright ray of light. She closed them again, but small light spots still danced behind her eyelids.

"Hey, that was... powerful," the woman said.

Clary opened her eyes again, and her vision was back to normal. She could already feel she would have a headache, and she felt absolutely exhausted, but she could see alright.

The woman, with her dark hair, her wings and her orange glittery clothing, was staring at her with awe. She had dark eyes that held a bright spark, her lips were painted red, and it looked like she’d sacrificed at least a dozen children to some dark deities for her beauty.

She walked closer to Clary and held out her hand, helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?" She asked softly. Her voice was even nicer when she wasn’t yelling.

Even if she was standing in shadows now, she was still glowing. The Sun and Moon Fairy . If that was true, the glowing would make sense.

"Yeah..." Clary managed to reply, mouth hanging open, trying to wrap her head around the situation. A stunning woman with wings, who referred to herself as a fairy, was holding her hand like it was something precious, after Clary had protected her from a monster.

Said monster got up from the ground then. The woman - the fairy - turned around. She planted her feet into the ground. "You want the scepter? Come and get it!" She taunted. A burst of golden light caught the monster square in the chest, sending him flying back.

Clary was about to shout at her to watch out for the remaining of the ant-like monsters but the woman was already moving. She snarled with effort, the entire scepter and her hands lighting up with the same gold light that seemed to envelop all her spells.

She jumped, a powerful, unnatural leap aided with her wings’ flying ability, twirled the scepter over her head at lightning speed and suddenly cut through the air.

All around her, following the path of the scepter, light erupted and monsters turned to ash.

She twirled the scepter one more time in her hands, this time more for a flourish, before winking at Clary. Clary swallowed.

"We will meet again, fairy!" The yellow beast warned, before disappearing in a beam of purple light.

A heaviness that Clary had not realized was in the air lifted with the creatures departure.

"Thank goodness," the woman exclaimed. She seemed genuinely relieved, even if she had demonstrated quite the abilities. "They’re gone at last!"

Clary was about to reply, ask questions, do something, but the woman faltered. She crumbled to the ground, and let go of the scepter.

Clary rushed to her side. "Hey are you alright?" She called out.

There was no reply. A bright light enveloped the woman’s unmoving body, and in the blink of an eye, her wings, her costume, and her pigtails were gone. Gone too was the glow that had seemed to radiate from her.

Her boots had changed to less practical heeled sandals, her crop top had changed shapes, with added cyan blue accessories and strings that wrapped around her waist. The shorts she’d been wearing became a skirt, long and flowing, with the same blue strings holding it to her waist.

The bands holding her hair parted were gone, it flowed free against the ground, and on her head rested something Clary recognized as a tiara, a cyan blue headband-like tiara that also had a sun-shaped circle at the back of her head, in the same shape as the top of the scepter.

Panicked, Clary looked around and realized the scepter was gone.

Fuck. She needed to call her parents.

-------------

Clary stared at the shredded pant leg of her jeans, toying with the straw in her lemonade glass. She hadn’t realized that the creatures had ruined it before she’d been home, with the woman laying on her bed, asleep.

She could hear her mom and dad’s hushed whispers. They were standing in the kitchen, and the kitchen was only a few feet away. They weren’t exactly stealthy.

"Clary," her father started, turning to her and speaking a bit louder. "I’m not sure I understand. Could you run that by me again?"

She sighed deeply, looking up at him and leaning back in her chair. "It’s not complicated. Kiko and I were in the park. He got spooked so I went to see what was going on. She was there, fighting creatures. They called her a fairy. She called herself a fairy."

William sighed. Clary loved her dad, but she knew he was a skeptic when it came to these things. Neither Amber nor William really believed in the supernatural, magical things that Clary believed in.

Clary was very different from her parents. Physically of course, since she was adopted. They were both brunettes, and there weren’t a redhead in their family. Her face was different, her stature was different.

But in their beliefs too. Clary had always like the idea that there was more to the world that the things she could see. She believed in magic, and in the things that went bump in the night.

"Hmm, I see," William mumbled.

"You believe me then?" Clary asked, even if she honestly had little hope that he did.

"No, I don’t! I think we should call the police and take this girl to a hospital."

It was a sensible offer but Clary opened her mouth to refuse. She didn’t have time to.

At that moment, a voice resounded in the room. "No, no please. Don’t tell anyone."

The woman - the fairy - was standing in the doorway to the bedrooms corridor. She looked a bit pale, but perfectly alright. She was still incredibly beautiful.

Amber immediately stood up straighter and walked to her. "How do you feel dear?" She asked softly. She guided her to sit down on the couch. The four of them all moved to the living room.

The fairy sat gracefully, at the age of the couch, back straight and ankles crossed elegantly.

"I’m all right," she said softly to Amber. She then turned to Clary. "Thank you for helping me out."

Clary shook her head. "Why else could I have done? Leave you passed out in the middle of the park?"

The fairy smiled gracefully. "Still. You were very kind to bring me to your home." She looked regal sitting there, in her fancy clothing and the tiara that she still wore. She was silent and elegant.

"I’m Clary," Clary said softly. "Clary Fairchild. And these are my parents. Amber and William Fairchild."

The woman nodded. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Isabelle. My friends call me Izzy." There was more to that, but Clary waved it away. They were strangers, after all.

"Can we drive you somewhere, Izzy?" William asked.

Clary almost glared at him. She could feel in his tone that he wanted Izzy out of their home as fast as possible. Now that she looked alright and awake, there was no reason for her to stay longer, right?

Izzy had a small chuckle. "That would be difficult. I come from a place that’s a bit far from here."

"Fairyland?" William huffed.

Izzy raised a perfectly styled eyebrow in his direction. "There’s no such thing. Maybe the Legendarium World would qualify, but that’s only where the Ancestral Fairies came from, not where they reside. I am from Solaria. Not Fairyland." Her voice was cold.

William opened his mouth and closed it right after. Clary’s head felt like it was spinning. She’d read nothing about the Ancestral Fairies or the Legendarium World. She’d never even heard of those before, in all her research about fairies.

"But you’re a fairy, right?"

Izzy turned to her and nodded, smile coming back to her lips. "I am. The Fairy of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. One day, I will be the Guardian Fairy of my Kingdom, Solaria."

So Guardian Fairies were a thing. Alright, that was something that Clary understood.

"How did you end up on Earth?" Clary asked curiously.

"I was trying to get to Alfea castle in the realm of Magix... It’s one of the magical dimensions, and Alfea is the College for Fairies. It’s the best school out there for fairies."

Clary could almost physically feel the skepticism and annoyance coming from behind her but sighed.

"Those creatures attacked me and I was forced to land here, on your planet," Izzy continued, before she turned to Amber and William. "Your daughter saved my life. I had never seen instinctive magic quite like that."

Clary shook her head. "I... I don’t know what happened. It all went so fast and the flame..."

"It was similar to the fire magic I’ve seen before," Izzy pointed out. "And you don’t actually need to know how. Instinctive magic exists in all of us magical beings, may we be Fairies or not."

William sighed and looked at both Clary and Izzy. "I don’t... I don’t understand what’s going on."

Amber shook her head. "I don’t understand either. But this..."

"It could be some sort of scheme. Acting."

Izzy stood up gracefully. She slid the blue ring she was wearing off of her finger, and it suddenly changed shapes. She was now holding the scepter that the monsters had been trying so hard to get.

Clary exhaled. Now she didn’t have to break it to her than she had lost her precious scepter.

Izzy planted the scepter firmly in front of her and put her two hands on it, one above the other. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Amber gasped as a bright ball of light came out of the sun-shaped circle at the top of the scepter. It danced around the living room, moving between the four of them with elegance, following motions of Izzy’s fingers.

"Can you believe me now?" She asked softly.

Amber looked over at her. "I think I do."

William stayed silent.

---------------

Clary sat down heavily on her bed. It felt like so much had happened since she’d left it, this every morning.

Now, there was a fairy in her bedroom. She wasn’t as tall as Clary would have imagined a fairy would be. Actually, Clary and her were about the same height. The fairy was maybe a bit smaller even, was she to take off her heels.

Said fairy, Izzy, was currently looking around Clary’s room. She was especially focused on the drawing table and the drawings that Clary had pinned on the corkboard. She reached up and gently touched the one with the fairies.

“Did you draw these?" She asked, tone curious, as she turned around and looked at Clary. Her eyes were shining.

"Yes. I’m an art student.”

“That’s amazing! And so are those drawings!” Izzy exclaimed. There was a hint of black from the charcoal on her fingertips as she pulled her hand back. “I’m a student too. Guardian fairy curriculum, at Alfea College for Fairies.”

Clary raised an eyebrow. “So there are classes on how to be a fairy?”

“Not exactly?” Izzy hummed. “You take classes to learn how to harness all of your power and make sure you’re using your magic correctly. That’s the gist of most fairy programs in the magical dimensions, but Alfea has a special Guardian Fairy program. You learn how to care for your realms, your planets… And you get pushed to reach the ultimate fairy form that Guardian Fairies have to have. The Enchantix.”

Clary chuckled. “You’re speaking Chinese.”

“I’m not. I’m speaking Earth English,” Izzy raised an eyebrow.

“I meant, I don’t really understand what you’re saying. This is so new to me. Real fairies seem very much entirely different from what we learn about fairies on Earth.”

Izzy hummed, walking over to the book about fairies that Clary had been reading the night before. She picked it up and flipped it open, looking through some random pages.

"Is your world like that?" Clary asked softly. “Do they have some things right?”

The woman seemed to hesitate a little. “They have a few things right. But it’s not as pretty as in this book. Not as perfect. There are issues, like in every other world, every other society. And not every fairy is sweet and perfect. Fairies may use white magic, maybe, but not all fairies are good.”

Clary nodded a little, sighing. “I guess… Yeah. It’s just weird. To think that, this morning, I mostly thought it was a fairytale, a story.”

Izzy smiled softly, looking at her. “And now, there’s a real life fairy in front of you?”

Clary sighed. “And I might be one.”

“Your power sure felt like fairy magic to me. I mean, I’m not a professional, far from it. I did just spend a year at a school full of them though. And grew up around a couple. The King and Queen of Solaria made sure I had only fairy tutors.”

Clary huffed, standing up and going to tidy some things. “The King and Queen had something to say in your education? Damn.”

“The King and Queen of Solaria are my parents.”

Clary turned around and stared at the other woman. So that explained the regal manners, the perfectly polished behavior and the way she spoke. It wasn’t just what fairies were like, it was what a fairy princess was like.

“You’re a princess, too?”

Izzy chuckled. She stood up straighter, taking the ring off of her finger again and looking at Clary. She took a complicated bow, using the scepter for balance, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked up at her and smiled.

“Princess Isabelle of Solaria, Princess of the Sun and the Moon, and Fairy of the Sun and the Moon. One day, surely, Guardian Fairy of the Kingdom of Solaria,” she introduced herself.

Clary couldn’t help but stare at her. It was… so much. There was a fairy princess in her bedroom, and she was absolutely beautiful. And sweet.

“And you, my dear,” Izzy said walking towards her and gently cupping her cheek. “might just be the Fairy of Fire.”

-------------------

The grass under Clary’s feet felt unnaturally soft. She guessed it was all unnatural, since they were in what Izzy called a bottomless postcard. Clary looked up. There was a rectangle in the sky, an opening, through which she could see the ceiling of her bedroom.

They stood in what looked, felt and seemed like a normal clearing in the some cartoonishly perfect woods. The trees looked like they had been drawn from the dreams of a ten-year-old, and the birds were singing. The rays of sun on Clary’s skin were so bright and defined that they seemed solid.

In front of her, Izzy had her eyes closed, her head tilted back slightly as she let the sunbeam fall on her features. Her skin was golden then, smooth and perfect. Everything seemed smooth and perfect.

Clary wondered whether it was the fact that it was a postcard that made it like this, almost unreal. Maybe it was just how it was in this magic world.

Izzy re-opened her eyes and for a moment, they shimmered gold, the sunray catching directly in them and transforming the darkness of her iris into light.

“So this is Alfea Castle,” Izzy exclaimed. Clary stopped staring at her and looked over where Izzy was pointing. They were close to it.

It was niched in the forest and felt like a safe haven from the world. Nothing imperfect could happen here, she was sure of it. While the roof was blue and almost blended in with the sky, the walls of the castle were a soft pink with purple accents. It reminded her a bit of cotton candy. But elegant cotton candy.

The buildings had a roundness to them that reminded Clary of the ones she would draw as a child. The whole area felt like taking a step back into her childhood, revising the perfect world that she had imagined fairies lived in. She hadn’t been so wrong, after all.

There were tall windows and balconies over the upper levels of the building. “Do people live there?”

Izzy nodded. “It’s a boarding school. Up to six people can share an apartment, itself divided in rooms. Royalty, like me, usually get solo rooms. You’d be getting a room with a roommate probably. “

Clary didn’t know if she would mind. As long as the other girl wasn’t weird with her because Clary was gay, she would love to share a room with someone and live out some sort of collegial dream that her proximity with her school in Gardenia didn’t allow her. Even if she loved the fact that she didn’t have to pay to live at her parents’. Thinking of Gardenia…

“What about my school in Gardenia? I would waste so much money dropping out of there and coming here… It’s free right?”

Izzy shrugged. “For someone like you? Absolutely. We royals pay entrance fees and donate money so others, with less money, can have it for free. It’s also considered a good deed, and charity is a very important value, especially in the fairy world.”

Clary opened her mouth and tried to think of something to say, but all of what was playing in her head was the stupidities and cruel words that politicians said on tv. About not wanting to pay so others can have access to the same things as them, especially things like healthcare or education.

Maybe some of those people existed in this world, but they seemed to be enough of a minority that prestigious schools like Alfea didn’t work with their model.

“I’m sure you’d like it here," Izzy grinned.

“I don’t know… I have to talk about it with my parents. It’s a big change.”

The idea of letting go of her spot at the Gardenia Academy of Arts, the idea of leaving Gardenia behind, leaving the future she had envisioned behind and diving head first into this new world and this new life terrified her.

She could feel a pull in her heart, a feeling that, if she did not take the chance, she would throw away the chance to follow her fated path. But was it strong enough to counteract the rational concerns about money and future?

“Listen, you have a night to think about it. Talk with your parents, think a bunch. When I’m leaving tomorrow, I can take you with me. But after that… I have no idea when you’d meet another fairy able to get you here…” Izzy said softly. “Though I would probably come back for you.”

Clary opened wide eyes at that. “Really?” She whispered and some kind of weird hope and warmth filled her chest.

Izzy nodded, looking at her softly. “Really. There is something about you… I feel like our paths have crossed for a reason. I was destined to crash on Earth, be saved by you, and bring magic into your life. I can’t explain it.”

Clary didn’t know if she could believe her. Izzy was wonderful and beautiful and almost unreal. What if Clary was just hallucinating this? What if this was just a dream?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Izzy taking her hand in hers. Clary looked down at their two hands joined, her skin looking absolutely white next to Izzy’s darker tone.

“Let’s get out of there, alright?” Izzy asked.

Clary nodded.

“All you gotta do is jump up!” Izzy explained and looked up at the opening in the sky. She looked over at Clary for a moment. Clary nodded at her again. They counted to three and jumped.

Clary could feel herself pulled upwards, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but very quick. It passed easily. She shook her head as she resurfaced in her bedroom, struggling a little to adapt.

She didn’t have much time to do the adjustments however, because a few seconds after they had come back from the postcard, there was a loud crash, coming from downstairs. It was followed by a great snarl.

Izzy’s eyes opened wide at that and she turned to Clary. They rushed downstairs immediately.

It was chaos. The small red ant-like monsters were back, and Clary could see the massive back of the yellow creature. There was another one with them this time, it was blue and it was snarling the loudest. They were making quick work of destroying the living room

"Those girls must be around here somewhere," the yellow one growled.

Before he could ask Amber and William where they were, Clary and Izzy came up behind them. There was a fire in Izzy’s eyes that Clary hadn’t really seen before. She’d already been tired when they’d met in the midst of battle.

"We’re right behind you!" Izzy called out. The yellow monster growled in confusion and Izzy smirked. “Let’s end this, shall we?"

Before Clary could say anything, Izzy was standing in front of her, feet planted wide. “Solaria!” She shouted, and a beam of bright light surrounded her in a blinding pocket of light. Clary lost sight of her, but only for a second. Almost immediately, rays erupted from the light cocoon, and the cocoon exploded.

Gone were the royal garments and the tiara, and back were the fairy wings. She wore the same outfit Clary had seen on her in the park, orange cropped top with only one shoulder, short shorts of the same sparkling orange material, and knee high boots. Her hair had magically been divided into two pigtails held by orange tube ties, and Clary felt the power radiating from her. Her first impression hadn’t been mistaken. In her fairy form, Izzy was glowing.

Clary gasped as Izzy immediately flew forward, kicking the blue monster in the chest. She had the time to notice nipple rings on this one. What was THAT about? Clary decided not to focus on the possibly kinkiness of the enormous blue monster that was destroying her home.

"What’s the use of you?” The yellow beast snarled at the blue one. “You got beat by a cutesy fairy!"

Izzy landed on her feet and raised an eyebrow. “Of course he did. But... I’m no ordinary fairy,” she chuckled. “I’m the Princess of Solaria!”

She turned to Clary. “Clary, we’re outnumbered. We’re gonna have to split them up."

Without thinking, Clary nodded. “Alright, I have an idea. I’ll take care of the red ones."

She was running entirely on automatism. She shot a quick glance at Amber and William, nodding at them reassuringly, before she started running out of the house. She ran through the corridor and the kitchen, slammed the door open and ran outside. She shut the door back once she was there, keeping the red creatures outside.

Once there, she froze. “Fuck.” She had no idea what to do.

By her side, Kiko was barking and shaking, in a mix of wanting to protect her and being absolutely terrified. She definitely could relate to that feeling. She wanted to protect her home and her parents, but now she was outside, alone, with four little red monsters that could maybe possibly kill her. She wasn’t exactly comfortable.

She got into position to try and summon the magical flame that she’d felt in the park. She took a deep breath. “Come on, Clary,” she whispered. “You can-”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Out of thin air, the yellow monster had appeared and had crashed down on the red monsters, killing them instantly. The yellow creature itself looked pretty damaged.

Well. Izzy sure knew how to command respect.

Right as she was thinking that, there was a loud crashing noise and Izzy came flying through the glass window. She landed on the ground and groaned loudly.

“Izzy!" Clary exclaimed, running to help her get up. She didn’t look in that good of a state. Her previously so smooth and perfect skin was littered with small cuts from the glass, and she could see a couple of pieces sticking out of some slightly deeper wounds. She was bleeding. There were cuts in her wings too, shredding the delicate membranes.

"Don’t worry,” Izzy smiled a little, but you could see it was painful. “I’ve called the Specialists."

The what now? "Who?"

Izzy didn’t reply. Whoever the Specialists were, Clary sure hoped that they were coming soon. The blue monster - that she’d heard referred to as a troll - was now coming out of the main door. Coming through might be more appropriate, as the beast just forced its way through the wood.

It walked, slowly, and all Clary could do was watch. Izzy seemed weaker even than at the park, and she almost couldn’t sit up. There was no hope. They were going to die in there, because there was no way that people from another dimension would show up THAT fast.

Clary closed her eyes and held Izzy’s hand as the creature loomed over them. “I love you, mom and dad.” She whispered, even if she knew they couldn’t hear her. They’d fled through the back of the house.

She smelled the troll’s nauseating breath on her. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. She was only 19. She couldn’t even summon the little bits of power she had. She waited for death.

Death didn’t come. There was a loud crack, the crack of a whip, and the troll snarled.

Clary opened her eyes. A thick black cable was wrapped around the troll’s neck, pulling it backwards. She took in a ragged breath, eyes following the cable to where four men were standing.

The one holding the whip had blond hair that flopped over his face. He wore a… bodysuit? With a cape? And very tight, at that. Clary put the outfit in the “WTF - will revisit later and demand an explanation” folder of her brain that was growing fuller by the second, at this point.

"Guys, I’m ready,” one of the other men said. This one had short dark hair and glasses. So there were magical creatures with vision issues. Okay. Good to know, she guessed.

The one in between whip-guy and glasses-guy had dark hair, a bit of a frown and was very tall. Taller by a few inches than the three other men for sure. "Alright, let’s take him to jail where he belongs." He called out. He seemed to be the leader of the group.

Whip guy huffed. "What’s the rush? Don’t you want to have a little bit of fun first?"

Clary almost yelled at him that Izzy was on the floor bleeding and that if they could remove the death threat from their vicinity, that would be great.

The fourth man, who was the only one not to be wearing the tight bodysuit and cape combo, sighed. He was holding a long black staff, leaning against it and waiting. His clothing was just as… unusual as the others’. He wore a purple turtle neck dress-like garment with elbow-length sleeves, decorated with yellow stripes, split open on both sides below the waist, and held at the waist tightly with a red sash. His pants were of the same purple color.

"I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. After all, this is only your first mission,” he pointed out.

Just as he was saying that, the troll tugged on the whip, sending the one who was holding it flying towards him. Whip-guy let go of the whip then, and landed right next to Clary and Izzy.

The purple-wearing man sighed. "I rest my case."

Clary watched helplessly still as the troll turned to the remaining three and started attacking. The edge of the staff purple-guy was wielding turned into a blade as he switched hands. Now holding the staff-blade in his left hand, he used his right hand to perform a complicated motion. A dark, smokey ball of energy seemed to erupt from his palm and crashed into the ground.

The ground opened up then, and the troll stumbled, letting up his attacks on the others. Its ankle caught in the crack and it howled. The glasses-wearing man jumped into action, closing manacles onto its fists.

“Well done, but it’s not over yet!” The dark-haired leader spoke out.

The red monsters that had been kept had bay by the Specialists were now turning towards Clary, Izzy, and the man next to them. The blond man huffed and got up. He looked dirty and tired and turned to them and sent them a wink.

"I’ll protect you, ladies."

Clary would have spoken up, but she was terrified, and didn’t understand a thing of what was going on, so she stayed silent. He took a strange object, and activated it. A fuschia saber blade appeared, and with that, he started fighting.

Clary didn’t know where to look, but she was pulled back to the situation when she felt fingers intertwining with hers.

“Clary,” Izzy whispered. “We have to use magic on the yellow monster.”

“But… you’re injured and I can’t…”

Izzy shook her head. “Help me up.”

Clary slid a hand around Izzy’s waist and helped her to her feet. The fairy turned to her, looking at her with a firm, stern look. “Magic is often linked to emotion. We need to help the Specialists, or the monsters will kill us, and also your parents.”

Clary opened wide eyes.

"Strong feelings such as fear have summoned up the wonderful powers that are in you once before,” Izzy said, in a hushed whisper. “They were always there, you just didn’t know it. It’s just a question of concentration. With your energy you can do anything.”

“But I can’t, I’ve tried and I can’t…”

“Believe it,” Izzy whispered. “Believe you can produce just one burst… You must.”

Clary closed her eyes. She wanted to believe that she could. She didn’t know about being a fairy yet, but she hadn’t imagined what had happened at the park. If she could do it once, she could do it again.

She felt it. The flame. The built-up was slower and smaller than it had been at the park, it had been a sudden burst of energy. Here, she had to work for it. So she did. She took the spark and pulled. She called it to her.

And just when the yellow monster punched the whip-guy out of the way, the flame appeared in between her hands. Izzy grinned next to her. “Now throw it!”

Clary didn’t know what she meant by that so she just did the motion. She kept the ball of energy, pulled her hands up and threw it, as if she was throwing one of those basketballs in high school P.E..

Izzy had thrown hers at the same time, and they both caught the monster square in the back. It howled in pain and crashed on the ground.

“I told you, you could do it!” Izzy grinned. “I’m so proud of you!”

Clary looked down at her hands. She could still feel it, like a phantom caress on her finger tips, a light tingle. "Wow. Then I’m really a fairy,” she whispered out loud.

"Of course you are, I’m never wrong,” Izzy chuckled. It was a bit of a strange sight, her smile and her cheerfulness, with light drops of blood rolling down her cheek from the cuts.

The Specialists gathered around the weakened yellow creature as it painfully stood up. It seemed to realize that it was cornered as it swore loudly and looked around itself. They didn’t have time to grab it. It clapped its hands a couple of time and bright purple light engulfed it. Once it had dissipated, the creature was gone.

Clary exhaled. Izzy’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

“Izzy!” One of the men called out and came running to her. It was the dark-haired, tall and serious one. He easily slid his arms around her and pulled her up to his chest, carrying her bridal-style.

“Alec, I’m fine,” Izzy mumbled.

“You’re not. You’re bleeding and your wings are shredded. We have a medic pod in the ship, you’ll need it.”

Clary watched the scene, a bit perplexed. The purple-wearing man came up to her and smiled. “Are you alright there?”

Clary crossed her arms. She felt exhausted. “I’m… fine. Just tired. Where is he taking her?”

“To our ship. You can come with us, if you want.” The man was Asian, had dark brown eyes, golden skin and dark hair.

Clary nodded. “Sure.”

He smiled. “Alright. By the way, I’m Magnus. We didn’t have time for introductions earlier.”

Clary smiled back a little. “Clary. Clary Fray. I… Is Izzy going to be okay? She was really banged up.”

Magnus nodded. “Don’t worry about her. Even if the medic pod can’t fix her entirely, we can bring her back to the Red Fountain to take care of her. Besides, Alexander will do everything possible to make sure she’s alright.”

Clary guessed Alexander was the dark-haired man that had ran to her immediately. “Are they…”

Magnus laughed. “Oh Gods no. Alexander is Isabelle’s brother. Crown Prince Alexander of Solaria, to be exact. And, Alexander well…” He had a little smirk. “He’s taken.” Magnus sent a look at the man. It was both soft and somewhat possessive and Clary let out a small “oooh”.

Magnus nodded. “Exactly. Now, let’s get you fixed up too, you look exhausted. And I’ll introduce you to Jace and Simon.”

------------------

The ship was… not what Clary had expected. After the whimsical aspects of Alfea castle, she guessed she had imagined it less modern. It was shaped like a kite, with the cockpit on the top face of the structure, above the rest.

As she stepped into the ship, Clary noticed the stairs leading up to the cockpit. The area below it had a long metallic table, upon which they laid Izzy. Alec grabbed what seemed like a first-aid kit and took out a syringe filled with a blue liquid.

“Painkillers,” Magnus explained, as Alec injected the liquid into Izzy’s arm. “Since we don’t know how bad it is, we’re dosing her now. Best case scenario, we can fix her up here and she’ll just sleep it off at your place. Worst case scenario, we have to transport her to the Red Fountain, Solaria, or the fairy hospital in Magix, and she’ll need it.”

Clary hated to see Izzy like that. It felt like it was all her fault, even if she knew it wasn’t.

Laser-like green and blue lights came out of the fixtures above the table and engulfed Izzy in what Clary hoped was healing magic. The dark-haired man - Alec - stayed by the side of the table, waiting, and watching.

Unlike the last time, Izzy was still in her fairy form.

The blonde-haired man walked up to them and looked at Clary. “Hey, what is she doing on the ship?” He asked Magnus.

“She saved your ass and wanted to watch over Isabelle,” Magnus replied. He smiled at Clary. “So that’s Jace. He’s Alec’s squire.”

Jace huffed. “More like… adoptive brother? I’m a ward of Solaria, and I grew up with Alec and Izzy,” he told Clary. Clary wondered if he was bragging or not. It wasn’t as if she actually cared.

“That’s nice,” Clary said, keeping her tone as devoid of actual interest as she could. “And I’m guessing Simon is the one with the glasses?”

Magnus nodded. “Yes. He’s our tech guy, and maybe the nicest person you’ll ever meet.”

Izzy had been so incredibly nice that Clary wouldn’t really imagine anyone being nicer than her. She was still laying under the lights but the superficial cuts were healing. Some of the tears in her wings were growing back together as well, but not the biggest ones.

“Magnus, could you suit up?” Alec asked over his shoulder and Magnus left Clary’s side with a light pat on her shoulder. She watched him put on some clothes and grab some tweezers. With those, he started taking out the pieces of glass that were still in some of the wounds.

Clary didn’t know how she could stomach this. She normally hated the sight of blood and anything vaguely surgery-related. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe she didn’t want to leave the side of the one person she somewhat knew and trusted. Whatever it was, she seemed bolted into place.

It felt like hours until Magnus was done taking out glass and stitching wings back together enough for the light beams to act. Alec and him talked quietly about what to do, and Alec eventually turned to Clary.

“We’re going to leave her with you for tonight. I’ll alert our family in Solaria and see what they want us to do, but for now, she seems fine. She’ll probably need someone to check on her wings, but the infirmary of Alfea can do it.”

Clary nodded. “Alright. Does she require anything specific?”

Alec shook his head. “She just needs rest. She’ll probably turn back into her human form too. We managed to keep her in her fairy form as long as we could to take care of her wings, but it won’t hold for much longer.”

Clary didn’t know if she was qualified in any way to take care of a wounded fairy. She’d shot some magic out of her hands a couple of times, but that sure didn’t seem like it would be enough.

The Specialists were starting to look tired too, and their uniform was a bit dirty. Clary noticed some light differences, mostly in the weapons they had holstered to their bodies, but also in the brooch that held their cloak in place, over their heart. They all had a different color. Jace’s was fuschia, just like the blade he’d used earlier. Alec’s was light blue, and Simon’s was yellow. She wondered if there was a significance.

Izzy stirred on the table and opened her eyes. She huffed. “Really? Full medic pod?” She grumbled weakly. Clary guessed it was the painkillers that made her a bit loopy. Izzy tried to sit up but failed. She radiated less glow than she had when she’d been fully powered.

They talked and checked her out for a small amount of time, and then got her back to the Fairchild house. Amber and William were sitting on their couch. They seemed quite uncomfortable, looking at their broken up apartment.

As Alec and Clary moved to settle Izzy in the spare bedroom, Magnus, Simon and Jace offered to help rebuild and tidy.

Alec laid Izzy on her stomach, as she was still in her fairy form. It seemed to flicker a little, not being able to completely stay permanent anymore. She was truly exhausted. Izzy grumbled some stuff about not being useless and being able to take care of herself under her breath as they tucked her in.

She was asleep within seconds, and the wings disappeared with the rest of her fairy form. They took off her shoes, her tiara and jewelry, setting those on the bedside table before letting her sleep it off.

Soon after, the Specialists gone, Clary crashed in bed and fell asleep before she could take her clothes off.

----------------

Clary yawned as she woke up, hours later. The sun was beaming inside her bedroom, and for a moment, she forgot what had happened. It was when she moved that she remembered, because she was aching. She was aching pretty much all over.

And it hadn’t been from a particularly intense gym session either. It had been from using magic. She sat up straight on her bed immediately at the thought of that and regretted it just as fast.

She still pulled herself out of bed. She slid out of the clothes she’d been wearing the night before and had slept in. She walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Everything was still messy.

Amber and William were sitting in the kitchen, around a fresh pot of coffee, discussing something in hushed voices. Her mom’s dark hair and her dad’s blond hair were almost touching from how close they were and how secretive their conversation was.

Clary cleared her throat. They looked up at her. Amber smiled softly at her daughter.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said.

Clary walked to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug and poured herself some. “You never call me sweetheart.”

When she turned around, there was a heaviness in Amber’s eyes and in her smile. William sighed and gently put his hand on his wife’s. Clary swallowed. It all seemed so… strange.

“We were talking about… all of what happened last night.”

Clary nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her home with me, it only caused trouble.”

Amber shook her head. “No, Clary, we don’t blame you at all. We don’t blame her either. She tried her best to protect us, and from what the… men from last night said, she was pretty injured doing so.”

“We’re just thinking about what it means for you. And for this family,” William explained. He looked tired, much more tired than Clary was used to seeing him. He looked like he had just been on a triple shift at the casern. Maybe they had spent all night talking about that.

“We want the best for you,” Amber explained. “And… from what we saw, there is something within you that has been awakened. Something you can’t control.”

Clary sat down on a stool in front of them. She gathered her hands around the burning hot mug. It didn’t feel that bad. It even felt comforting.

“The school Izzy talked about,” William sighed. “No matter how improbable it sounds, how… wrong my head is telling me it is… Maybe it could be a good place for you to learn how to control… all of that.”

Clary didn’t really know what to say. She wanted to go to Alfea, she could feel that it was a right choice. But diving in the strange world of magic and fairies scared her. It terrified her.

“You wouldn’t have to pay for anything… Only the royals pay. The rest can go for free,” Clary said softly. “I…”

“Be honest with us, darling,” Amber asked. “You’re an adult, and this is your life, your future. Does Alfea sound like a good option for you? Do you feel like you belong there?”

Clary’s heart was screaming that yes, she belonged there. But there was still a little voice in the back of her mind. A voice that told her that she wasn’t good enough. That managing to create a couple of fire balls wasn’t the same as using spells and having a fairy form like Izzy had.

“Yes,” she still said. “I… I want to go. I want to try. If I don’t succeed, well, I’ll come back.”

William nodded and rubbed his face with his hand for a moment. “Okay, okay…”

“So you’re leaving…”

“Today,” Clary said. “This morning, even. The term starts tomorrow, I believe.”

She saw her parents hesitate then. It was a sudden change. Clary was afraid of it too. She’d never left home for more than a week of vacation with a girl she’d considered her friend in her last year of highschool.

Amber stood up. “Then,” she said, her voice a bit shakier than Clary wanted it to be. “We need to get to packing.”

Clary stood up as well. She walked around the table and hugged her dad for a moment. He hugged her back quickly, but gently pushed her away afterwards. “Go pack,” he said softly.

Clary nodded and kissed his cheek. Amber and her walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As they walked past the bathroom, they heard the water running. Izzy was in a good state then, if she was able to shower without issues. That made Clary feel better.

Kiko ran between their legs, yapping as they took out the suitcase and started packing.

“Can I take him?”

Amber nodded. “Yes, we’ve talked about it. We’ve thought it would be good for you to have him, provided that the school lets you have him.”

“I’ll ask Izzy, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

They packed everything that Clary could think of and closed the suitcase. Amber was a little teary-eyed. Clary didn’t know what to do really, so she just hugged her tightly for a moment.

“I’ll come back anyway. There sure are vacations. And I’ll make sure to get a phone that can call you the second I can,” she promised.

They walked back down the stairs where Isabelle was chatting with William. William looked like he was only understanding part of the things she was saying. Amber cleared her throat.

"Clary’s ready,” she said.

Izzy turned around and grinned. She looked much better this morning than she had when she’d fallen asleep. She wasn’t pale anymore, she looked healthy. She wasn’t wearing her royal clothing anymore, nor was she in her fairy form.

She wore a burnt orange jumpsuit, nice and fluid with a v cleavage and thin straps. She had a broad, large, Egyptian-looking necklace around her neck, ornate with orange, gold and blue stones, that Clary recognized from the first outfit she’d seen her in. It was probably something to do with her royal status. Crown jewels maybe.

Clary smiled back at her.

“You look better,” Clary said softly.

“I just needed some sleep and I’m all new,” Izzy chuckled, waving it off. Clary had no way to know if she was still in pain or not. Whatever she was feeling, Izzy was hiding it well.

William sighed. “What will I tell people when they ask where you are?”

Clary hummed. “A boarding school out of state. An Art Academy… prestigious and secretive. That would probably shut them up.”

Her father nodded and came to hug her again. She let go of the suitcase again and hugged him tightly.

“You be careful, alright?” He asked.

“I promise.”

Clary and her parents bid her goodbyes. Clary tried not to focus on it much. She would be back. It wasn’t forever. She hated goodbyes anyway, and she was kinda tearful and hated the idea of being this emotional in front of her new friend, who seemed to be quite the master of her own emotional responses.

Once she was done hugging her parents and Kiko had settled in her arms, Izzy looked at her and nodded. “Let’s go. We don’t want to miss on the welcoming ceremony.”

She took the ring off of her finger and it extended into the scepter again. Clary was somewhat started to get used to that particular trick. Isabelle took a deep breath and brandished the scepter.

“Solaria! To Magix!” She shouted, and a bright light engulfed Clary, Kiko and her. She had time to somewhat wave goodbye to her parents for one last time before she felt herself pulled downwards. Clary closed her eyes firmly.

It was a stronger pull than the one she’d felt in the postcard and it made her almost nauseous. It was like being distended, stretched in length in a way. Kiko whined a little.

With her eyes closed, she wasn’t able to tell when they were done with the transport. All she felt was the sudden lack of pulling, and the ground she landed on.

She opened her eyes again. Izzy was standing over her, holding out her hand with a smile. “The first time is always a bit difficult,” she chuckled and Clary rolled her eyes, taking her hand.

The grass was deep and soft, and Clary wondered how Izzy managed to stay upright when walking on it with her uncomfortable-looking high heels. Maybe it was magic. Clary was very glad to be wearing combat boots.

They were back around the area where the postcard had taken them, but this time, they were walking out of it. Izzy was leading the way towards the lavender and pink castle, her steps firm.

Clary sighed for a second. She looked behind her, where she’d landed, where she somehow hoped she would see the line between her old life and her new life. But there wasn’t any line or any doorway to Gardenia. The door had closed already. She’d already chosen.

“Come on!” Izzy called. “We don’t want to be late.”

Clary swallowed and turned towards the castle again. Kiko ran up towards Izzy, sniffing everything he could sniff. Izzy turned around and looked at Clary, holding out her hand again for her to take.

Clary took it.

-----------------

In the next chapter, at Alfea, Clary will discover new life and amazing new friends. But, in the Magic Dimension, she will also meet the witches from the school of Cloud Tower, the first problem she will have to deal with. Peace in Magix will be threatened.

#clizzy #malec #winxaufic #shwinxau #fic #shadowhunters #winxclub

20 notes · View notes