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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 3 months ago

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New Beginnings | Sebastian Sallow x OC #4

Summary: As Sixth Year begins, Sebastian struggles with guilt and regret over his strained friendship with Evangeline. Now back in school, he sees her carrying her own hidden burdens and reaches out, hoping to rekindle their closeness. Through small gestures and shared moments, they begin to bridge the distance between them

Words: 6,114

Tags: Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Self-Esteem, Grief and Healing, Emotional Growth, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon Reconciliation, Friends to Lovers (Implied), Regret and Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The Great Hall was alive with chatter, students filling every corner with stories from summer, gossip, and laughter. At the Slytherin table, Sebastian sat with Ominis, Violet, Nerida, and Imelda, though his attention drifted often. A plate of food sat barely touched in front of him as he pushed it around absently, his gaze flicking back to the Gryffindor table where Evangeline sat among Natty, Leander, Garreth, and Cressida.

Violet leaned forward, snapping her fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. “Are you even listening, Sallow? Or has summer stolen your sense along with your humour?”

“Sorry,” Sebastian muttered, forcing a smirk. “Still waking up, I suppose.”

Ominis turned slightly towards him, voice low enough for just Sebastian to hear. “You’re watching her, aren’t you?”

Sebastian flinched. He hadn't realized he was so obvious, but his gaze had indeed drifted to Evangeline at the Gryffindor table. She laughed at something Leander said, her face bright with an ease he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Just as he was about to look away, he heard Cressida’s voice carry across the hall, clear even amid the bustle of breakfast.

“It must’ve been lonely, though, spending the whole summer at Fallowmere House,” Cressida said, her voice tinged with sympathy.

Sebastian froze, his chest tightening as he processed what he’d just heard. Fallowmere House. He remembered her mentioning it briefly when she’d started at Hogwarts in fifth year—the magical orphanage she’d been transferred to before starting at Hogwarts. But he’d assumed… well, he’d assumed she’d stayed somewhere else over the summer, perhaps with friends.

Evangeline’s voice, soft but unwavering, answered, “It wasn’t so bad. Fallowmere is peaceful. Quiet, too. It… gave me time to think.”

Natty reached over and clasped her hand, frowning with concern. “But still, it doesn’t seem right for you to be so alone after everything.”

Evangeline’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Maybe it was a good thing.”

Sebastian’s chest twisted painfully, the weight of her words settling heavily. Alone. He hadn’t even considered the reality of her situation—not really. With Professor Fig gone, the man who was supposed to become her guardian, she had no one. No home waiting for her. And yet Sebastian had never questioned where she might have gone after the chaos of last year. He’d been so consumed by his own turmoil, by the loss of Solomon and his grappling with the choices he’d made, that he hadn’t thought to ask. And now, looking at her across the room, seeing the way she put on a brave face even for her friends, he was reminded of how deeply he’d failed her—yet again.

“Sebastian?” Ominis’s voice pulled him back, laced with gentle concern. “Are you alright?”

He barely managed to nod, his throat tight. “I'm fine."

Imelda gave him a smirk. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone’s stolen your broom.”

Sebastian ignored her, gaze drifting back to Evangeline as she took a sip of pumpkin juice, her eyes distant. The way she held herself was familiar yet different—strong like always but laced with something he couldn’t quite place. He knew that the distance between them was his own doing, but seeing her there, surrounded by friends yet visibly carrying the weight of the summer, filled him with deep regret.

Across the hall, Garreth caught Evangeline’s shift in mood and leaned in. “I say, maybe a bit of Hogsmeade shopping is in order this weekend? Cheer you up?”

She chuckled. “I think that’s your solution to everything, Garreth.”

“Ah, but you can’t deny its effectiveness,” Leander chimed in, grinning. The Gryffindors’ laughter rippled across the table, warming the space around them.

From where he sat, Sebastian felt that laughter like a distant echo. His fingers clenched into a fist under the table, the weight of the summer settling over him. How had he let this happen? He wanted to stand up, walk over, and apologize, but the wall of unresolved tension between them kept him anchored in his seat.

Violet sighed. “Seriously, Sallow. What’s got you in such a state?”

He forced himself to look away from Evangeline, flashing a quick, half-hearted smile. “Nothing, I… I just… didn’t know she’d spent the whole summer at Fallowmere.”

Violet’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you didn’t know? I thought you two were close. Best friends and all that.”

Imelda snorted. “Seems like you missed a big detail, Sallow.”

Sebastian barely heard her, his mind racing. Fallowmere might have been peaceful, but he knew Evangeline didn’t belong there. She belonged here, with her friends. With him.

Nerida’s brow furrowed, her tone skeptical. “How could you not have known? Didn’t you at least write to her?”

Sebastian swallowed, his throat tight. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wasn’t… Things between us haven’t exactly been normal.” His voice was barely more than a murmur.

Ominis sighed, his voice quiet but steady. “Alright, enough. Both Sebastian and Evangeline have been grieving. Let’s not pile onto either of them over what’s already been a painful summer.”

He placed a gentle but firm hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as if to anchor him. “What matters now, Sebastian, is what you do next.”

Sebastian looked down, nodding slowly. “I’ve been a terrible friend.” His voice was thick with remorse. “I didn’t even ask.”

Imelda rolled her eyes, though there was a glint of sympathy beneath her usual sharpness. “Better late than never.”

_______

Later that day, Sebastian made his way to the Quidditch pitch, eager to throw himself into something physical and demanding to distract from the morning’s conversation. As Slytherin’s star chaser, he was used to being the focal point of their practices, and today he intended to live up to the title.

Imelda, the Slytherin captain, had the team assembled by the time he arrived, her sharp voice cutting through the early evening air as she laid out their strategy for the session. She spared Sebastian a quick nod before launching into her usual drill regimen, pushing them hard as she called out each player’s weak spots with unfiltered bluntness. Imelda’s standards were ruthless, and even Sebastian found himself gritting his teeth at her criticism.

About halfway through practice, she declared a quick break, mounting her broom to fly a lap around the pitch. The team took the opportunity to catch their breath and chat, their laughs carrying through the cool air. It was then that Sebastian noticed the Gryffindor team at the other end of the field, heading out after their own practice. Among them was Evangeline, chatting with Garreth as they shouldered their brooms and prepared to head back to the castle.

Sebastian’s gaze stayed on Evangeline as she walked alongside the red-head. The last time he’d seen her up close was in July, during that brief, uncomfortable visit she and Ominis had made to Feldcroft. Even then, in the quiet light of summer, she’d looked worn down, thinner than he remembered, her face gaunt with shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She’d always been fuller-figured, soft in a way that suited her, but that day, the sharp angles of her collarbones had poked through, an uncharacteristic fragility marking her usually confident frame.

Now, standing on the pitch, he saw that she’d lost even more weight since then. Her robes, usually snug around her curves, hung a little looser on her frame, and her cheeks, once full, looked hollow in the early evening light. The sight of her like this hit him with an unexpected pang of worry, a painful realization settling in: her grief had been eating away at her.

The laughter of his teammates faded into background noise as he tried to piece together what he’d missed. He’d been so tangled up in his own misery that he hadn’t even thought about what her own losses had taken from her. And now he could see the evidence right in front of him, written in the lines of her face and the slump of her shoulders as she trudged across the lawn. But before he could think to approach her, Darian, one of the Slytherin Beaters, caught sight of the Gryffindor team as well, a nasty smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” Darian drawled, his voice loud enough to carry. “If it isn’t our favourite orphan. Decided to play Beater this year, did you?” He let out a derisive chuckle, making a show of sizing Evangeline up. “Not sure you’ve got the strength for it, though I suppose one could make an argument for size. In any case, isn’t it a bit above your pay grade?”

Sebastian felt his stomach twist with anger, but before he could react, another Slytherin chimed in—a wiry chaser named Silas. “Someone like you shouldn't even be on the team,” Silas sneered. “I mean, can you even trace your bloodline back a generation, Sterling?”

Evangeline tensed, but her gaze stayed steady, chin lifted. She seemed poised to ignore them, but Garreth, who had already been eyeing the Slytherins with distaste, couldn’t keep quiet.

“Oh, look,” he said loudly, shooting them a challenging look. “The snakes are out, hissing as usual. Not that I’d expect anything better from Slytherins.”

Darian’s eyes narrowed, and he sneered at Garreth. “Stay out of this, Weasley. I know you think you’re clever, but it’s no secret you’re a charity case yourself. Shouldn’t you be trying to brew something explosive to get attention?”

Garreth looked ready to retort, but Evangeline placed a calming hand on his arm. “Garreth, don’t,” she murmured, “They’re not worth it.”

But the jibes only seemed to spur Silas on. “Not a great look for Gryffindor, is it?” he mused, glancing mockingly at Evangeline. “Relying on scraps.”

Sebastian couldn’t stand it any longer. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the group with an intensity that silenced them all. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his glare fixed on Darian and Silas.

Darian’s smirk faded, but he kept his stance defiant. “Just a bit of fun, Sallow. No need to get all sentimental.”

Sebastian’s voice was low and razor-sharp, undercutting Darian’s sneer with an intensity that silenced everyone nearby. “If that’s your idea of fun, then you’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Darian.”

Darian’s smirk wavered, and he gave a mock shrug. “Can't believe you're still standing up for her. She’s not even—”

“Say another word about her,” Sebastian interrupted, taking a deliberate step closer, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with unmistakable menace, “and you’ll be explaining to Imelda why you’re in the Hospital Wing for the next week.”

Darian’s expression faltered, and Silas shifted uncomfortably beside him. They exchanged a wary look, muttering under their breath before finally backing off, throwing one last scowl at Evangeline before walking away.

With the confrontation diffused, Sebastian turned back toward Evangeline, who was still watching him, her gaze unreadable. Garreth stood closely beside her, visibly tense from the exchange. Sebastian wanted to say something reassuring, but the words caught in his throat as he took in her weary expression.

“Thank you,” Evangeline said quietly, her voice calm but laced with something he couldn’t quite identify. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sebastian managed a faint smile, though his frustration still simmered beneath it. “I did. They had no right.”

Evangeline’s expression softened just a little, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She looked at him, something cautious yet warm flickering in her gaze. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, her features settling back into a careful neutrality.

She took a slow breath, finally nodding. “Well… thanks,” she repeated, her voice soft.

Sebastian wished he could read her thoughts, to understand if the gratitude was genuine or if it was simply a polite acknowledgment, an attempt to maintain the walls between them. Her expression gave away so little, but there was something there—a hesitance, maybe, as if she were just as uncertain about how to navigate this as he was.

Garreth, who had been watching the exchange with an air of tense curiosity, cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well, that was… intense,” he muttered, glancing between the two of them. Then he placed a comforting hand on Evangeline’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the castle, Evie. You could use some tea after… all this.”

Evangeline nodded, offering Sebastian one last glance—a hesitant, fleeting look that seemed to carry both gratitude and uncertainty—before she turned and followed Garreth toward the castle.

_______

The next morning, Sebastian awoke to find a neatly folded piece of parchment on his bedside table. He blinked sleepily, reaching for it and recognizing Ominis’s familiar handwriting.

Sebastian—meeting Evangeline for breakfast in the Undercroft. Join us if you’d like. O.

Sebastian shot out of bed, hurriedly pulling on his robes and running a hand through his hair, barely taking the time to check himself in the mirror. He froze for a moment, catching a glimpse of his disheveled appearance, and felt a pang of sudden insecurity. Would Evangeline think he looked alright? She’d always teased him about his tendency to appear slightly unkempt, and now he found himself adjusting his collar, feeling the weight of her imagined scrutiny more than he cared to admit. He forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing back his nerves, and then slipped out of the dormitory, heading toward the Undercroft with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

When he entered the hidden space, he found Evangeline and Ominis already seated, deep in conversation. They were huddled together, their heads close as they looked over a pair of letters. Their voices were soft, a hint of melancholy in their tones. Neither of them noticed him at first, so Sebastian took the brief moment to take her in, noticing the way the warm, dim light softened her features, lending her a certain gentleness.

Ominis was the first to look up, sensing his presence. “Sebastian,” he greeted, his voice calm but welcoming. “You made it.”

Evangeline glanced up as well, her expression shifting slightly as her gaze landed on him. He couldn’t tell if it was relief, hesitation, or perhaps something in between, but she offered him a small smile. “Good morning, Sebastian.”

“Good morning,” he replied, a little breathless from his haste. He quickly ran a hand through his hair again, trying to look casual. “I saw the note and… well, thought I’d join you.”

Evangeline nodded, her smile lingering as she motioned for him to sit. “We were just reading some of Anne’s recent letters. She… mentioned you.”

Sebastian’s heart gave a slight, painful twist. Anne had cut ties with him after everything that had happened. She’d requested privacy, preferring to keep in touch with Ominis and Evangeline instead. But to know she’d mentioned him, even briefly, was more than he’d expected.

He lowered himself onto the seat beside them, his gaze flicking between Evangeline and Ominis. “Really? What… what did she say?”

Evangeline glanced at Ominis before answering, a trace of hesitation in her eyes. “She’s… doing alright, all things considered. The healers at St. Mungo’s have been working with her regularly. She’s trying to focus on her recovery.”

Sebastian nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check, though he could feel the ache settling in his chest. He hadn’t known much about her treatment, only that she’d chosen to leave him out of it. “And… she mentioned me?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with both hope and apprehension.

Ominis nodded, his expression softening. “Yes. She… wondered how you were doing.” His words were careful, as though he was selecting each one with precision. “She didn’t say much, but it's clear she’s still thinking about you, Sebastian."

Sebastian swallowed, nodding again as he processed this. The rift between them had felt so permanent, so final, that even this small mention of him from her was a lifeline he hadn’t expected. “I… I’m glad she’s doing alright. Really, I am.”

Evangeline nodded, "They've entered Anne into a new study on pain reduction charms... so far the results are promising." He was surprised when she reached out, a reassuring touch on his arm. He met her gaze, his chest tightening at the kindness he saw there. It was such a stark contrast to the distant, weary expression she’d worn the day before, and it filled him with both gratitude and longing. She was right there, so close he could reach out and hold her hand, yet there was a chasm between them that he’d built with his own actions.

They fell into a soft silence, Evangeline’s hand lingering on his arm a moment longer before she pulled it away. He missed the warmth immediately, but he couldn’t complain; even this was more than he’d hoped for.

Ominis, sensing the shift in the room, cleared his throat and leaned back slightly. “Anne’s letters… they’re a good sign,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “She’s taking steps forward, and perhaps that will mean more for you, too, Sebastian.”

Evangeline and Ominis shared a brief, understanding glance before quietly sliding the letters across the table for Sebastian to read himself. He picked them up gently, his fingers brushing the parchment, and began scanning Anne’s familiar handwriting. His heart ached with every word, but there was a calmness here, too—a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Once he finished, he set the letters back down, a faint but genuine smile playing at his lips. “She sounds… more like herself,” he murmured, relief evident in his voice. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her like that.” He glanced between Evangeline and Ominis, feeling a gratitude that went beyond words.

Ominis nodded. “She’s slowly finding her way. It’s not easy, but she’s taking steps, thanks to some new treatment options.”

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “The study you mentioned… I’d never heard of it. When Solomon and I brought her to St. Mungo’s, they never said anything about specialized studies or pain reduction charms.” He glanced at Ominis, then Evangeline, his brow furrowing slightly. “How… how did she get into this program?”

Evangeline and Ominis exchanged a glance, as if silently weighing how much to say. Finally, Evangeline spoke, her tone gentle but firm. “We helped her get in,” she explained. “It’s… not exactly easy to access. The study is funded through private research, so only certain patients are allowed to participate.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Certain patients? So… it’s expensive?”

Ominis nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. It wasn’t covered by the usual care options, so… Evangeline and I pitched in to help her get into it.”

Sebastian’s gaze snapped between them, surprise and gratitude welling up within him. “You both… paid for her to get this treatment?”

Evangeline nodded, her expression modest. “It wasn’t just us, of course. Anne had a little saved up, and I… we just wanted to do something to help, after everything. She deserves a real chance at relief.”

Sebastian’s throat tightened, emotions swirling within him—gratitude, guilt, relief, and a deep sense of indebtedness to them both. He hadn’t been able to support Anne the way she deserved, and yet Evangeline and Ominis had stepped up, filling in the gaps he’d left.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice rough with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say. You both… you’ve done more for her than I could ever repay.”

Ominis shook his head, “We did it because we care about her. There’s no debt.”

The rest of breakfast proceeded with a surprising ease, conversation drifting to lighter topics as they shared quiet smiles and passing comments about their classes and friends. Sebastian felt himself relaxing, enjoying the near-normalcy that settled between them. There was a warmth here, a familiar rhythm that reminded him of mornings they’d shared in happier times.

Eventually, Ominis glanced at the clock and sighed, a trace of reluctance in his expression. “I’d better head to Alchemy,” he said, gathering his things. “I’ll leave you two to your own devices—don’t have too much fun without me.”

Evangeline let out a mock groan. “I still don’t understand how you tolerate that class, Ominis.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I agree. Alchemy is practically a crime against students.”

Ominis gave them both a faint smile, shaking his head as he stood. “You two are hopeless. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the brilliance of it.” With that, he gave them a quick nod and made his way out, leaving Sebastian and Evangeline alone in the Undercroft.

A surprisingly comfortable silence settled over them, and Sebastian found himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t help it—he always ended up watching her, captivated by the way the soft light caught in her hair or the quiet focus in her expression. Even now, in the dim light of the Undercroft, having woken up so early, she looked beautiful. That beauty felt both familiar and devastatingly new to him; every time he was with her, it was as though he were seeing her all over again.

But as he looked at her now, his admiration was tempered by worry. She was absently picking at a muffin, breaking it into tiny pieces on her plate but never actually taking a bite. Her eyes were distant, framed by faint shadows that hinted at restless nights, and he couldn’t ignore how loose her robes looked on her.

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian decided to break the silence. “Evie…” he began carefully, his tone as gentle as he could make it. “Are you alright?”

She glanced up, her expression unreadable as she met his gaze. She tried to smile, shrugging dismissively. “I’m fine, Sebastian. Just not that hungry.”

He frowned, leaning forward slightly, unwilling to let it go that easily. “Not that hungry?” he repeated softly, a small smile playing at his lips as he tried to keep his tone light. “You’ve told me a hundred times how much you love breakfast. You practically count down the hours between dinner and breakfast.”

A hint of a real smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly, and she returned her gaze to her plate. "Yes, well... I suppose I just don't have an appetite today."

Sebastian hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, didn’t want her to feel scrutinized under his gaze, even though he couldn’t help but notice the changes in her. For as long as he could remember, Evangeline’s presence had been one of warmth and fullness, her figure soft and steady, a quiet strength he’d grown to admire and—though he’d never admit it aloud—appreciate in ways that stirred certain feelings he’d never meant to develop. And yet now, her movements weighed down by something he couldn’t quite see but could feel all too clearly.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softening as he treaded carefully, “but… this seems like more than just not being hungry.” He could feel a blush creeping up his neck, but he pushed forward, lowering his gaze to spare them both from his own embarrassment. “It’s… obvious this has been going on for a while. Your clothes don’t… they look a little different on you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, her discomfort evident. “It’s nothing, Sebastian,” she insisted, her voice quiet but firm. “Really. I’m fine.”

He knew she wanted him to drop it, but he couldn’t ignore the weight that had settled over her. He’d never seen her like this—so guarded, so intent on putting up a wall between them. And he hated that he’d let things get to this point, where she felt she had to face everything alone.

“Evie,” he said gently, "Please don't lie to me."

Sebastian’s quiet plea hung between them, and for a long, tense moment, Evangeline kept her gaze firmly on her plate, her fingers fidgeting with a stray crumb as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He could see the struggle in her posture, the way her shoulders tensed, how her jaw set as if to hold back words she’d rather keep hidden.

She took a deep breath, her fingers going still on the table. Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes with a hesitant, almost pained expression. “I… I don’t know where to start,” she murmured, her voice trembling with the weight of her unspoken thoughts.

"Then... start with whatever feels right,” he offered gently.

Her lips pressed together as she seemed to wrestle with what to say. When she finally spoke, her voice was guarded, almost evasive. “I guess… with everything that’s happened, I haven’t exactly… taken the best care of myself. It’s been hard to find the energy for things I used to care about.”

Sebastian’s eyes softened, but he didn’t respond right away, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. He simply nodded, encouraging her to go on.

Her fingers twisted in her lap as she glanced away, “And I keep thinking… maybe if I’d been better, if I’d done something differently… maybe Professor Fig would still be here.” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. “It’s like I… failed him. And I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I’m just… not enough. Not good enough. Not the right kind of person to have made a difference.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at him, as if she were about to reveal something she’d never shared with anyone. “I know it sounds silly, but… it’s hard not to feel like… maybe it’s me. Like… maybe if I were different, better somehow, things would have turned out differently.”

Her gaze dropped, and she looked down, a shadow of something deeply vulnerable crossing her features. “And sometimes, it’s just… I see other girls—Cressida, Violet, girls who seem to have everything put together, who are tall and thin and look… perfect. And I… I’ve never been that way. I’ve always been… well, I mean, you know. You heard what Darian said yesterday about my size,” Her voice grew smaller with each word, her cheeks brightening in embarrassment. “And I guess I just feel like… like maybe I don’t deserve to… to take up that much space. I know it’s stupid, but I….” She trailed off, her voice thick with embarrassment, and glanced away as though she wanted to hide. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. It’s… it’s silly.”

Her words hit him harder than he could have expected, each one revealing a side of her he’d never seen, a vulnerability she’d never shared with him before. It stunned him to think that she, who had always seemed so steady, so sure of herself, carried insecurities this deep. He’d never imagined she’d compare herself to others like that. The idea of her, quietly measuring herself against someone like Cressida or any of the girls, seemed absurd to him. And he was struck by the irony, because in his eyes, she was perfect exactly as she was.

But now, facing her, he found himself torn, struggling to find the right words. The thought of her feeling inadequate, feeling somehow less-than, made him want to pull her into his arms and erase every doubt. He wanted her to know that she was the standard, in his eyes—she was everything he wanted, just as she was. He wanted to tell her how much he adored her body, how the softness of her figure was something he secretly cherished, something that made him look at her and think about her in ways he didn’t dare admit.

Yet, he knew he couldn’t say any of that. His feelings for her were a secret he’d kept carefully guarded. Revealing any of it would complicate things, might even push her away, and he couldn’t bear that risk. He wanted to help her, to be there for her as a friend, to ease her worries without crossing the lines that would betray his own heart. So, he chose his words carefully, hoping they would convey even a fraction of what he felt.

He took a breath, his voice soft but steady. “Evie… What happened with Fig isn't on you. I've heard the story of that night a hundred times and you did everything humanly possible to keep the school, and everyone inside it, safe." He paused, his gaze gentle, trying to convey the sincerity behind his words. "And… you might not see it, but you’re… you’ve always been more than enough. I’ve never thought you should be anything other than who you are.”

He could see her cheeks redden, her gaze dropping to her hands as though she wasn’t sure whether to believe him. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sebastian… I appreciate you saying that, really, but… you don’t have to.” She hesitated, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I mean, we’re friends, and you’re… well, you’re just being kind.”

He could feel the blush heating his own cheeks, but he held her gaze, not willing to let her dismiss what he was saying. “I’m not just saying it to be nice,” he insisted, his voice laced with a quiet urgency. “I mean it."

Evangeline looked up at him, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. There was a new softness in her eyes, a warmth that hadn’t been there before, and it filled him with a bittersweet satisfaction. Even if she couldn’t see herself the way he did, at least maybe she was starting to believe him.

Still, a part of him wanted to say more, to tell her how wildly attracted to her he was, that no one else had ever made him feel the way she did. But he knew that line was one he wasn’t ready to cross—not yet, and perhaps not ever. So he settled for the silence that fell between them, a silence that was surprisingly comfortable, laced with a quiet understanding.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a pretty decent listener when you actually try?" Evangeline said at length, a hesitant smirk pulling on her cheeks.

Sebastian’s lips curved into a smile, his heart warming at the gentle teasing in her tone. “Well,” he replied, a playful spark in his eyes, “you’re the only one I’d really go to the trouble for. And maybe Ominis."

Evangeline’s smirk softened into something genuine, and she raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that makes me special.”

“Very special,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks flush, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she murmured, and Sebastian could see a glimmer of something vulnerable in her eyes—a quiet gratitude that made his heart ache in the best way.

The silence that settled between them felt warm and strangely intimate, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like they were nearly back to the closeness they’d had before everything became complicated.

Sebastian cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a playful grin. "So... maybe you’ll actually eat that muffin instead of shredding it into a million tiny pieces?”

Evangeline looked down at her plate, realizing that she’d been absentmindedly tearing the muffin into a pile of crumbs. Her cheeks flushed as she let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I suppose I’ve been caught,” she admitted, brushing a few crumbs off her fingers. “Fine, I’ll actually eat it. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he teased, his grin widening. “I don’t want to have to give that muffin a proper burial. Besides, you’ve got to keep your strength up. Who else is going to keep Ominis and me out of trouble?”

She let out a genuine laugh, the sound light and warm, and for a moment, it was as though all the heaviness that had been weighing her down had lifted. She broke off a piece of the muffin, actually taking a bite this time, and rolled her eyes as she chewed.

“There,” she said after swallowing, giving him a mock glare. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” he replied, still smiling, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than he meant to.

It was a simple thing, sharing a laugh over a muffin, but it felt like a quiet victory—a small, comforting reminder that some things between them hadn’t changed.

As they both finished up and stood to leave, Sebastian felt the lingering warmth of her laughter echoing in his chest, the kind of warmth that made him feel a little closer to her than he had in months. With a final smile, he said, “So... are we going to share a bench in Potions?"

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with a hint of a smirk. “I suppose I could allow it. But only if you promise not to set anything on fire this year.”

Sebastian feigned a look of mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. “That was one time, Evie! And it was Garreth’s fault. You know how dangerous his ‘improvements’ can be.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained, softer now, as though she was savoring the exchange as much as he was. “Alright, Sallow,” she replied, pretending to consider it. “But you’re on thin ice. One more potion mishap, and you’ll have to find someone else’s bench to singe.”

He laughed, feeling a lightness he hadn’t felt in ages, a sense of ease that had seemed impossible before now. “Deal,” he said, holding out his hand as if to seal their agreement. She looked at his outstretched hand, and after a brief, amused hesitation, she took it, giving it a quick, firm shake before releasing it, her eyes twinkling.

They lingered for a second longer, the air between them filled with something warm and unspoken, a quiet acknowledgment of what their friendship had weathered and what it still meant. As they left the Undercroft side by side, he couldn’t help but think that the wall between them had grown a little thinner, that somehow, they’d found a way to share in each other’s lives again.

“Alright, then,” he said, unable to resist one last tease. “Try not to miss me too much between now and Potions.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, her smirk resurfacing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sallow.”

But as she walked away, he saw a genuine smile on her face, and his own smile lingered, carrying him all the way to class.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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greatestwizardofthisage · 1 year ago

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assigning each of the bad kids a taylor swift era because i am feeling deprived of tswift content now that she's on break from the eras tour

Kristen: Fearless. I can't even explain why, but to me that album is just so sunny and in my mind it fits Kristen perfectly. I think maybe it's because Fearless was one of the first album I ever really loved, then when I was older the rerecording is what got me back into tswift and I can totally see Kristen going through a similar journey with it where maybe she loves it as a kid but then stops listening to it as she distances herself from her childhood/family, only to fall in love with it again later on. Also I feel like the country vibes fit her well. (She would also LOVE betty but she would pretend it's a lesbian anthem)

Gorgug: Ok this feels controversial but he's a Lover stan. I just fully belive that to his core Gorgug is a lover not a hater and he would un ironically love Lover. Like to me that album is all about having gone through some bad shit and choosing to only carry forward the best of it? And that fits with my perception of Gorgug. ALSO the end of afterglow 'I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things that I hate, or the things that haunt me in the middle of the night' just feels very Gorgug coded to me dont ask me why. However if you've seen any of my other posts about music and the bad kids you know that I wholeheartedly believe Gorgug loves all music so I think he'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite album.

Riz: Midnights. And not just because this kid never sleeps. Bassically I really couldn't decide which album he would listen to because none of them really fit, but then I started thinking about specific lyrics and I think Midnights has the most that he could relate to. I mean 'no one wanted to play with me as a little kid so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since' is about him. You can't change my mind. I do think though that Riz is definitely more invested in all the easter eggs and firguring out which album is coming next over actually listening to her music. Like he would for sure be among the first to figure out all her clues.

Fabian: 1989 and Folklore. I fully to the bottom of my heart belive that until his sophmore year Fabian would exclusivly be listening to pop music, sea shanties, and weird elven music. So obviously he would love the greatest pop album ever made. He wouldn't listen to Folklore until post sophmore character development. Also he would For Sure learn the choreography for the dance in the background of Dress on the Rep tour and recreat it perfectly using his sheet.

Fig: Speak Now. I mean do I even need to explain this? It's the perfect album for Fig. It's the kind of thing she would have loved when she was in her Preppy Cheerleader phase, but it has just enough of that pop punk influence that I feel like she could still appreciate it when she's older. I feel like she would definitly take issue with some of the misogynistic lyrics used in some of the songs, and would be all for the lyric change in Better Than Revenge. Also as I've mentioned many times before, Fig would love Paramore, and would LOVE Castles Crumbling. Like you're going to sit here and tell me that lines like 'They used to cheer when they saw my face, Now I fear I have fallen from grace' + 'Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far, I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart' + 'Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off, And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret' + 'People look at me like I'm a monster, Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name, Now they're screaming that they hate me, Never wanted you to hate me' weren't written by Figueroth Faeth? I also just think songs like Never Grow Up and Long Live would perfectly fit with her not so secret sentimental streak.

Adaine: Evermore and Folklore. I think theres just a sort of elegence to these albums that really reminds me of Adaine. I also think theres so much vulnerability in them and a lot of the songs touch on feelings of not being good enough for others (mirrorball, tolerate it, this is me trying, right where you left me) that I think she could relate to not from a romantic relationship standpoint but from all the expectations placed on her by her parents. I also think that although these are probably the most low key of tswifts albums, they have some good angry songs (no body no crime, illicit affairs, mad woman) that she would definitly love. But yeah this is mostly based on aesthetics. Evermore and Folklore were albums written with a quill and Adaine is the kind of girl to appreciate this.

#ok thats all my thoughts on tswift and the bad kids #thank you for reading #if youre reading all this and thinking 'my blorbo wouldnt listen to that album youre wrong' then PLEASE tell me #i want to hear other peoples oppinions on this please please please #talk to me about my two special interests #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fig feath #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #ps i know a lot of tumblr people dont like tswift and thats totally valid she is morally a very questionable person #long post

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tonkinese-lion · 2 years ago

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Oh, Little Lion Cub, Of My Blood

"The Rook and the Lion" - Part 1

Warnings: Kidnapping, minor violence, Victor Rookwood (a warning in itself)

Attempting to write again after many years, and wanted to do so for my baby Gryffindor OC Victoria Everleigh Adler, as well as Rookwood who was criminally underused in the game. Let's see what happens when he crosses paths with an anxious, little lion cub and comes to a realization. I’m not a native English speaker but I hope you still enjoy it. ✨🦁

-------------------------

Victoria was running, that's all she could think about. Both her legs and throat were burning, and her red house-fanatic robes and lion stamped scarf were both tossing about behind her. Her heart shaped locket was swinging violently from side to side, while her long hair blowing in the wind was completely dishevelled and almost coming undone in the back. But she couldn't care less. Not with the dark wizards and Ashwinders right on her heels.

And him. Rookwood. The bloody bastard. Of course, he had to be there too.

As soon as she had caught sight of him in Hogsmeade, loitering by the entrance at the bridge, she turned tail and ran back in the opposite direction. In her hurry she forgot to put her hood on, and an Ashwinder had unfortunately recognized her face and by her robes and quickly alerted his comrades and Rookwood himself. Suddenly Victoria found herself running faster than she ever had to in her life.

"Why does it always have to be me?" she muttered to herself.

If only she had been accompanied by Professor Fig... or by a certain Slytherin like she had been last week. She'd take on a troll again any day over this.

-------

1 week earlier

They had deliberately sent that troll after her. Ranrok AND Rookwood. A distraction. All so that Rookwood could get to her.

Victoria got lost in thought, butterbeer in hand, the sweet taste of still lingering in her mouth, as she sat with Sebastian in The Three Broomsticks.

"Glad to see you two escaped injury." Sirona said warmly, the relief evident in her voice.

"Thanks to this one. Single-handedly took down a troll!" Sebastian exclaimed, a smile on his face as he observed her.

She smiled shyly and fiddled with the heart locket hanging around her neck in embarrassment. Her cheeks were probably similar in colour to that of a tomato at this point. She wasn't used to praise. She certainly never received any at the orphanage.

But she found she quite liked the feeling.

"Is that so? Well done." Sirona said as she threw Victoria a friendly smile.

She blushed while looking down, not knowing what to do with herself. She thanked Sirona for the beverage and took a big gulp, while only half listening to the conversation. God, this stuff was heavenly, she thought distractedly. Reminded her of sweets she had growing up.

"Something's not right. The only brutes we usually have to deal with are-"

Suddenly behind her, Victoria heard the door slam open. She nearly choked on her beer, the sound startling her.

"Was that Lodgok I saw leaving just now."

Victoria froze at the sound of that voice, breath getting stuck in her lungs. He had found them. She looked up at Sebastian, her panic probably evident in her eyes. Sebastian returned a reassuring but uncertain half-smile her way, clearly not unaffected either.

"Sirona will have our backs." he muttered quietly, trying his best to reassure her.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, Theophilus."

"Come now. No need for theatrics." the voice drawled.

She could feel her hands starting to shake as they held onto her beverage for dear life.

"I'm only here for this one anyway." he continued, the rumbling voice taunting her.

Victoria knew the snake was speaking directly to her. Challenging her. She wiped the dread of her face as best she could and slowly turned, getting of her seat. As her eyes locked onto his, she felt herself shudder with how intensely the man was focusing on her, practically as if the two of them were the only ones present in the room. Not even the troll had managed to make her this uncomfortable.

"My friend is enjoying a well-earned butterbeer." Sirona said with an impassivity that didn't match the situation.

How in the world was Sirona able to keep completely calm?!

"I only want a quick word." Rookwood’s steely gaze was dead set on Victoria, nonchalantly waving her away, while waltzing his way over.

Victoria seized up at the motion. Her hand instantly went to her newly acquired wand and pointed it towards him. Everyone else did the same. She could still feel the anxiety and adrenaline from fighting the troll earlier, as her heartbeat became rapid again.

Sebastian pushed her behind himself in a protective manner, his wand too now firmly pointing towards the two brutes.

Right, Sebastian was here with her, she reminded herself. Everyone in The Three Broomsticks, in fact, had their wands pointing towards the unwelcome guests. AND she was also able to get through the whole bank heist and Ranrok with Professor Fig in one piece.

Everything was going to be fine.

"I said, my friend is busy." Sirona stood her ground. Firmly.

He scoffed, loudly, looking about the room. "One would think you'd all had enough bloodshed for one day."

His cold calculating grey-blue eyes once again settled themselves onto Victoria. This time, however, she stood her ground and mirrored his own glare. His eyes narrowed, suddenly, as they found something of interest.

"Where did you get that?" Rookwood suddenly snapped at her, voice dangerously low, while, rather rudely, pointing at her.

Her face scrunched up in confusion. What?

She looked down and realized what he was referring to - The golden heart shaped locket she always wore. She protectively wrapped her hand around the piece of jewellery.

"I do not believe that to be any of your business" she coldly replied with her head held high.

The motion did not go unnoticed by him, as he eyed the way her hand entwined around it. Rookwood weighted his options, but was aware of how severely outnumbered he was. Not today. Harlow beside him was getting impatient.

He sparred her another glance, eyes narrowing while contemplating her, as if seizing her up.

I didn't make sense. Why would her heart locket possibly be of any interest to Rookwood of all people? The locket that was the last reminder she had of... her.

No one dared to move. She, too, didn't dare moving a muscle, except, she couldn't stop the palpable sneer appearing on her face, while waiting for him to make his move. He returned a Cheshire grin her way as he and his right-hand man were exiting. His look told her everything she needed to know.

This isn't over.

Arms wide in an exaggerating, animated manner, he added smugly:

"Can't drink butterbeer forever."

The remaining taste of butterbeer turned sour on Victoria's tongue.

-------

She needed to find a Floo Flame and quickly. She wasn't familiar enough with Hogsmeade yet to remember where to find them all.

She quickly slipped into a small alley, and hid behind a building, almost stumbling over her legs in the process, while pressing her back against the wall.

She hoped no one saw her. As she desperately tried calming her out of control breathing, Victoria heard shouting and the indicatory sounds of someone running by.

Good, they didn't see her. She had to admit though, wearing a Hogwarts robe with a giant Gryffindor lion on the back, it was certainly not one of her best ideas. No more wearing school robes in Hogsmeade.

As she scanned the building behind her, she realized she was at the back entry to Gladrags Wizardwear. That meant Hogsmeade Square and a Floo Flame was just around the corner. If she could make it to the Floo Flame right across from Honeydukes in the Square, then she would be within the safety of Hogwarts again. She was supposed to meet with Professor Fig later today too.

Victoria put her face into her hands and took a deep unsteady breath. How had her life turned upside down so quickly?

She had been so excited when she received her letter to attend Hogwarts, so very excited when Professor Fig came to personally pick her up, the two of them so close already despite only having practiced her magic with him for a couple of months.

The prospect of finally leaving that cursed place of a nightmare called an orphanage behind, of going on at adventure and using magic. Magic. For the first time in a long time, she had felt hopeful.

Oh, how quickly that illusion shattered. On her first day it was the dragon attack, last week the troll attack and now she was the prime target of a bunch of no-do-good witches and wizards.

Lovely, just what she needed.

She almost missed the orphanage. Almost.

It seems as if Rookwood had been waiting for an opportunity to catch her on her own. And she waltzed right into his hands.

She checked to see if the coast was clear. No Ashwinders. No Rookwood insight.

Now was her chance.

She ran as fast as her legs would allow her, first around the corner and then straight forward along the square. She almost tumbled into a passer-by and apologized profusely about 10 times, then passed the statue of Hengist of Woodcroft and rounded the corner with the tree until...

She let out an audible gasp. No no no-

Standing right beside the Floo Flame, patiently waiting with hands behind his back, was the one person she had hoped not to see. She immediately raised her wand.

"Now, now my dear, calm down. No need for that." Victor Rookwood drawled deeply; hand held up as if trying calm a scared animal. He must have anticipated she was going to use the Floo Flames. Blast it.

He was grinning, madly, like cat finally having caught the mouse in the trap, walking ever so slowly towards her. For every step he took towards Victoria, she took a step back. He was enjoying it, the panic on her face.

"I'm afraid you're all on your own out here. Just a little lion cub all alone, away from her pack. Hmm, some might argue it makes the cub very easy prey, wouldn't you agree?" he spoke, his trademark Cheshire grin back on his face, with preying eyes surveying her so intently, like was she his next meal.

Victoria felt her breathing pick-up, while both of her hands were clutching her wand to the point of her knuckles turning white. He could attack any second.

Basic spells were certainly not going to help her. Where was that strange, ancient magic she used on the troll? Victoria felt her breathing was now, borderline, on the verge of becoming a full-blown panic attack, the running she did earlier not having done her any favours.

Almost, as if on cue, he reached out for her with his wand with intent to cast.

In her panic she felt something strange happening inside her. Like a flash, quickly speeding past him, she dashed in a ball of light. She stumbled for a second after. What in the world was that?! How did she...

The Floo Flame!

While steadying herself she didn't waste any time thinking further about what just happened and made a run for the emerald flame. Finally, back to Hogwarts.

She suddenly heard a loud whoosh behind her. Wait no-

"AHHH" she suddenly let out a scream as her scarf and hood were forcefully pulled back swiftly, her along with it. The bastard had dissaperated right behind her. What a cheater.

"Oh no you don't little lion" she heard the giveaway chuckle of Rookwood. With her back against his front, a pair of arms surrounded her from both sides, one around her middle and arms, the other holding a wand to her neck, keeping most of her completely immobile.

"You most certainly are full of surprises, aren't you, my dear?" he chuckled right behind her. She did not need to see his face to know he was probably smiling like a madman.

Immobile or not, wand to her neck or not, it didn't stop her from going absolutely berserk in her panic. The adrenaline providing her with a new-found energy, she kicked her legs in every direction, trying to free herself from her assailant.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU CONNIVING COCKROACH, YOU BAS-"

Distracted in her own struggle, she suddenly almost fell to her feet as the arms surrounding her had abruptly let go, only to spin her around, now face to face, and swiftly seizing both her thin wrists in his, in a crushing and almost painful hold.

Before she could even think about using the wand still in her hand, he beat her to it, putting so much pressure onto her wrist to the point of her having to let go of it. Victoria couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her.

She heard the clatter of her wand falling to the ground beside her.

"Tsk, tsk, language, my dear. Now, let's try this again, shall we? Where did you acquire that locket of yours from, hmm?" he demanded, the smug bastard observing, with great amusement, her fruitless attempts at freeing herself.

She finally looked up at him, starring right into his eyes, her panic completely forgotten. She felt something else inside her growing. Now she was getting furious.

"I already told you. None of your bloody business" she fumed through gritted teeth.

She attempted again to pull herself away from his steel grasp, but to not avail.

"Oh, believe me little lion..." he said through gritted teeth, and then brought them both face to face, "...it IS my business." His tone had shifted, the finality in voice clear. He wanted an answer.

Both of them were then alerted to footsteps.

"Rookwood, let Miss Adler go this very instant." a feminine voice rang out, the anger clear in the owners shouting. Officer Singer stood not too far from him on his left, wand pointed directly at his side. other onlookers had joined from a distance too, probably curious about the commotion going on.

Rookwood immediately stilled, the glare he had momentarily given Officer Singer at her interruption turning from annoyance into disbelief. His gaze resuming its place onto Victoria instantly.

"Adler?" he faltered quietly, blue eyes searching her face for something she couldn't quite comprehend.

"I said to let her go! She's just a student." Officer Singer kept persisting. Why wasn't she stopping him?! Rookwood could dissaperate along with her at any second!

It seemed for a moment his hold had, unknowingly to him, faltered just a bit, but it was reason enough for Victoria to resume her thrashing and take matters into her own hands.

In one big motion she tugged with all she her might, freeing one of her arms, and tried concentrating. Due to her struggling Rookwood was also brought out of his reverie.

Victoria thought back hard to the time where she and Sebastian clashed with the troll. The ancient magic; it had happened so naturally back then. She had sensed something strange happening inside her due to Sebastian being in danger, and cast her spell like was it the most normal thing. Only now, she was in danger.

She felt it growing inside her again. Victoria cheered internally, and with one efficient move of her hand, a flash of light happened and Rookwood was sent flying backwards, rolling a small distance away from her, groaning as he did so.

However, in the process of that she too ended up tumbling down backwards in the process. And wouldn't it just be her luck that the rest of Rookwood’s goons showed up at that moment.

Victoria hastily retrieved her wand, but it was, once again, too late. Before she had any chance to make her move, they had her, as well as Officer Singer, surrounded from all sides with wands directed towards them both.

Now what was she supposed to do?

Rookwood, having just pulled himself of the ground, carefully brushing the dust of himself, did not seem particularly angry at the display of magic she used on him. Compared to before he almost seemed... hesitant to engage her now.

"Well then, I believe this concludes our quarrel for now, wouldn't you agree?" he shrugged. The hidden warning in his words didn't go unnoticed by her. He wanted her to give up. Or else...

Well, if he wasn't going to kill her for this now, then she had no doubt he would later. This was Rookwood after all. She found it did not matter then, and she might as well go down fighting. She was dead either way.

She raised her wand again, but before she ever got to open her mouth, she was struck by something from behind.

She never felt her body meet the ground before everything went black.

Oh, bugger.

-------------------------

Oh, the juicy drama is about to begin. Rookwood seems to have realized something. What could it possibly be? *wink wink*👀

Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you want more. I'd love to write a continuation of this ✌🦁

For a bit of context, my OC Victoria Everleigh Adler has anxiety (if that wasn't obvious yet), grew up at an orphanage most her life after losing her mother and sister, and has trouble believing in herself as well as her abilities. I just thought to myself ‘what if the protagonist had anxiety’, and thus Victoria was born lol.

Anyway, I thought it'd be interesting to have someone a bit shyer, introverted and reserved compared to the protagonist of the game. Victoria will come out of her shell eventually. ✨

#hogwarts legacy #oc: victoria adler #oc: victoria everleigh adler #rookwood #victor rookwood #hogwarts legacy rookwood #sebastian sallow #little lion cub of my blood

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lavthehufflepuffpuffpass · 2 years ago

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Ruler whose brow is laid with thorn Chapter 2 {Ominis x masc MC}

read on ao3

introduction:

Poppy and Amadeus have a lovely long chat about the events of the year, and drink some potions. You can't tell me the students didn't get high like this. A fluffy chapter of Hufflepuffs being Hufflepuffs, and Poppy being my favourite girl in the world. Amadeus has burnt out gifted child syndrome, and is down incredibly bad for Ominis. Read til the end to see Natty be a dissapointed mother.

word count: 976

The Hufflepuff common room was empty except for Poppy and Amadeus, curled up on one of the lounges.

"Nearly midnight! You'd ought to go to bed, you two."

An exasperated enchanted portrait had reminded them of the time again and again, but the two remained engrossed in conversation about all that had happened over the past year.

Poppy had made an impromptu visit after receiving an owl that read "Need to talk. Ominis. -A"

She’d expected to meet her friend heartbroken, but instead she was met with Amadeus’ flushed face and incessant rambling.

“Ominis wasn't fond of that sort of endearment before now. I’m worried that he might be in a serious predicament and is in need of my help.”

Amadeus paced in front of the dying fire. It was a blessing that the Hufflepuff common room was near the kitchens. It was always cool on default, even in summer, and therefore the fireplaces never died down. It must be some kind of magic.

Poppy rolled her eyes fondly and produced a vial from her pocket. Amadeus stopped abruptly.

“Here, draught of peace.”

“I could do with some peace of mind.”

They took alternating sips of the vial. Almost immediately, Amadeus felt sharper. His senses felt enhanced, his mind quickened and spun on a waltzer. He felt the alarming need to sit down, lest he'd fall to the floor. Once he was safely seated, he turned to see how Poppy was faring.

Poppy was feeling the effects of the potion as well. She'd folded her legs up under herself, and looked fit to burst with rapture.

“Maybe, just maybe,” Poppy began. She stretched the last syllable dramatically, no doubt preparing one of her endearing pep talks.

“Maybe, Amadeus, you’re a lovely person who did the best he could for his friend and Ominis could see that.”

“That’s bollocks, Poppy. Merlin knows I betrayed him by allowing Sebastian to stray further into the dark arts.”

Amdeus sat up sharply. Realisation dawned on his face.

“Merlin’s bloody beard, Poppy, I myself strayed into the dark arts. The very thing that hurt Ominis more than anything. I know the unforgivable curses just as well as Sebastian does.”

Poppy said nothing.

She simply stared up at him thoughtfully. She wouldn’t tell him, but she’d assumed Amadeus had used unforgivable curses. She hated poachers, loyalists and assassins, of course she did, but she hadn’t expected the ferocity and vengefulness that Amadeus possessed in battle. Knowing the truth of the matter, well, it wasn’t at all surprising.

He sat back down, groaned, and keeled over, cradling his face in his hands. Poppy, not knowing what else to do, threw her arms around Amadeus from behind, pressing her face into his back. She listened to him talk without judgement. It was one of her strengths, loyalty and patience. Poppy was a Hufflepuff through and through.

“And Ominis,” Amadeus sighed. “I don’t deserve his tenderness. I tried everything and it wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t save Professor Fig, or Lodgok. I couldn’t stop Sebastian, or save Anne. It wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t enough.” His voice broke painfully on the last word. "How can I give my best to someone I've hurt. I love him, Poppy."

“I think this potion is faulty.” Poppy whispered. She had tears in her eyes.

Amadeus laughed, but it came out a half-sob.

Poppy produced another vile. “Oh! Here is the draught of peace.”

Slowly, Amadeus turned the empty vile over in his palm. He read out the label out loud, enounciating every syllable.

“Wit-sharpening potion.”

It may as well have been a laugh-inducing potion, for the pair of Hufflepuffs laughed until their sides hurt.

Afterwards, the exhausted Hufflepuffs took the time to recuperate, tangled on the lounge.

Poppy was the first to break the silence of the common room, save from the crackling embers and ticking clock.

“Amadeus?” The boy hummed in response.

Poppy turned on her side so she could look Amadeus in the eye.

“You are enough, Amadeus. More than enough. I know you don’t feel like it, but you’ve done so much good, too much to ever allow dark magic to make a home inside you. Ominis sees that. Or knows that. Or senses that. You’d been catching up on five years worth of spells, and yet you still made time for your friends, magical beasts, and the keepers. I think you’re the best of wizardkind.”

“That’s what Professor Fig said, before he… 'Wizardkind could not be in more capable hands'.”

“He couldn’t be more true, Amadeus. I mean it. I meant all of it. I do believe this potion is similar to truth serum.”

“Oh Merlin," Amadeus chuckled dryly. "You don’t still have that Draught of Peace, do you? My mind is whirring.”

“Oh, yes!”

Poppy scrambled to uncork the vial, and passed the vial to Amadeus, who gratefully took it.

Where his entire body ached with tension, each muscle relaxed. He melted into Poppy, who giggled and delightfully took a sip of her own. The two spent the rest of the night enjoying eachothers company. Amadeus thought of Ominis, and how he'd grown to care for him in a way he didn't realise he could for another boy.

At breakfast, Natty looked the pair over incredulousy. The Hufflepuffs hadn't changed out of their robes from last night, and looked completely bedraggled.

"What were you two doing last night? playing with potions?"

She shook her head at their sheepish expressions.

"Do be careful, Poppy, Amadeus. Potions are not to be messed with."

"We will," the friends mumbled.

They both reached over for the pot of black coffee, missing it completely. Amadeus put his head down on the table, while Poppy shakily filled their cups.

"Merlin's beard." Natty laughed from her belly, bright and loud. "You two get some rest, alright? I'll see you later."

#ominis gaunt #ominis x oc #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt fanfiction #fanfiction #poppy sweeting #ominis gaunt fluff #poppy sweeting fluff #fluff #natsai onai

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allegra-writes · 3 years ago

Text

"Ex Machina"

Logan Delos x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Darkfic. Dub/non-con (but not really). Knife play. Rough sex. Blood. Character death (mentioned). Unreliable narrator. Bit of humiliation kink.

"They will not force us

They will stop degrading us

They will not control us

We will be victorious"

Uprising- Muse

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

Breathe. You willed yourself to breathe. In and out through your nose, trying to drown the sobs against your palm. The beating of your own heart deafening to your own ears in the sepulcral quiet of the saloon's kitchen. He had chosen to chase Clem when you had split up at the river, you reminded yourself. There was no way Logan had seen you come in here, you were safe for now.

At least safer than Clementine, you thought, guilt knotting inside your stomach at having abandoned your friend to fend for herself. You had tried, you really had, but she was hysterical, wouldn't listen to reason, there was no getting through to her as she bolted for the trees, while all you wanted was to get back to Sweetwater, get help.

You had not expected to find the quaint little town completely mowed down, deserted except for the maimed bodies of the slaughtered. Your friends had been there, Juliet, Dolores, Maeve… You didn't dare looking for them, unsure what you would do if you found their corpses among the carnage.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was supposed to be an easy narrative, joining Teddy, the gunslinger with a heart of gold, to help him rob a bank and pay the ransom for his kidnapped fiancé. But something had gone terribly wrong when a new player, Juliet's brother, had joined you.

You had known he was trouble right away, with his dark sense of humor, his devil-may-care attitude, his black hat. But you had never imagined-

How could you have ever imagined...

The loud creaking of the old wooden door alerted you of a new presence, all but stopping your heart as a new wave of panic washed over you.

"Come on, pretty girl, I know you're here" A shiver ran down your spine at the playful tone in his voice. He was enjoying himself. He had butchered an entire town, and he was having fun.

"Here, kitty kitty!" His velvet voice called, getting closer and closer. You held your breath, terrified his predator senses could pick on even that. "You know, the harder you make me work for it, the harder my cock gets…"

Logan stopped right outside of your cupboard, and you prayed to every god you didn't believe in that he'd just pass you by, that he wouldn't-

He went on his way, footsteps getting further away as he sang "Ready or not, here I go!"

You sighed in relief, allowing your shoulders, aching with tension and adrenaline, to sag just a little bit. Rationally, you knew there was no way it would be that easy, that there was no way he was going to give up on looking for you just yet, not when you were the only witness left. If he wanted to -literally- get away with murder, he needed to get rid of you. But Logan was not rational, he was mercurial, chaotic, his attention span as short as his fuse, he could very well choose to burn the entire town to the ground once he grew tired of combing it. And as bad as that may seem, surely the park's personnel would send a team to stop him. They wouldn't let him get away with that scale of property damage, would they?

You had made it this far because you had been able to predict Logan's behaviour almost to a T, and just prayed it would continue like that…

But your luck was running out.

Focused as you were on trying to anticipate what his next move would be and planning for it, you failed to realize everything had gone quiet again. A little too quiet.

The cupboard doors were yanked open, Logan's hand tangling into your hair, pulling you out and forcing you into your feet.

"Gotcha" He leered, licking into your mouth as you struggled in his grasp, "Looks like I finally got you alone…"

You reached back, feeling the top of the counter with your hand to find something, anything, to fight back with, your palm making contact with a sturdy metal mug. Logan simply chuckled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you…"

That was when you felt it, sharp and cold even through your shirt, against your stomach, right above your belly button: The tip of his huge, still bloodied hunting knife.

You froze, letting him pry the mug from your fingers and throw it away, the loud crash letting you know the fate of your would be weapon.

"That's better. You wouldn't want to hurt yourself, right?" The hand on your hair left to trace his thumb over your cheek, making you flinch. "You're such a pretty little thing" He murmured, almost to himself, "too pretty to be damaged"

You shuddered as his knife trailed softly upwards, pushing your shirt up, baring a bit of your abdomen to his attentive eyes that seemed enthralled by the sliver of exposed skin. You gulped, dread sinking into your stomach as you began to realize maybe you had been wrong all along: Maybe killing you was not the worst thing Logan had planned for you tonight.

"I have been wondering about it, about you all week," the blade kept moving against your skin, tracing and retracing the same path, from your sternum to your belly button, up and down and up again as he talked, "been watching you all week, but try as I might, I can't seem to figure you out"

"Wha- figure me out? What are you talking about?"

"You're not quite like the others, are you?" You weren't sure whether he hadn't heard you, or was too far gone, too deranged to be able to process the words spoken to him. He certainly didn't seem completely there, pitch black pupils huge, burning with single focus, fixed on the movements of his blade on your skin, "All that boring perfection, five feet seven, slender, small waist, huge tits. It's all quite unoriginal, really"

The flat of his knife came under your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze,

"But not you. No, not you. You're… flawed. Different. Interesting. So much so that I almost believed you…"

"I never lied, what the fuck are you talking about!"

It probably wasn't smart to yell at the psycho holding you at knife point, but at least that seemed to get through to him, recognition finally flickering in his eyes as he leaned closer, breathing the words -hot, how could he be so warm- against your face.

"I almost believed you were a real, live girl"

You felt the floor give way underneath you, and it took Logan's arm snaking around your back to keep you up for you to notice it had actually been your knees, unable to support your own weight any longer, all strength leaving you at once, weak and shaking and terrified like a little rabbit in front of the wolf.

Because you realized then how fucked up he actually was.

"I am real! Logan, I am real and I am alive, please, you have to stop this!"

Logan pouted,

"But I don't wanna stop" his knife returned to your stomach, pressing, you could feel the tip break your skin.

It stung.

"I wanna know what your insides look like"

At the look on your face, he chuckled,

"No, not like that, you little perv. You have a dirty mind don't you? I gotta admit" you felt the blade dissappear, only to return lower, slipping just under the waistband of your skirt, "It's kinda hot"

With a flick of his wrist, he popped the button off.

"What do you think? Hmm? If I cut you open here," He dug his thumb into the little cut on your stomach, making you cry out, "will I find guts? Or will I find wires and metal?"

"I'm human!" You insisted, tears falling down your cheeks. Of terror, of frustration, of rage. "Logan, I'm not one of them, I'm a guest, I'm human!"

"Prove it" He challenged, "show me you're an actual, bona-fide hot blooded woman"

You were hot. You could feel it, the frenzy of adrenaline rising through your veins, the fighting instinct kicking in now that you couldn't fly anymore. It was setting everything in its wake alight, your innards boiling with it.

Letting yourself be taken over by it, you surged forwards, grabbing Logan by the neck, startling him so bad he forgot to disembowel you.

You kissed him.

There was nothing soft or romantic about it, it was rough and violent, the clashing of teeth, of tongues, of wills, once Logan caught up with the program and started kissing you back, arm an iron rod against your back, pulling you, crushing you, closer. You bit down into his lip until you felt the telltale metallic flavor of his blood on your tongue, the involuntary shudder he couldn’t reign in making you smirk.

His replying smirk as he sliced your white shirt open was even bigger.

"Fuckin' gorgeous" He muttered to your breasts before burying his face against them, nipping and licking, his beard adding a delicious scratch to the sensations. You clawed at his shirt until you managed to take it off, a disgruntled noise of protest leaving Logan's mouth as he was forced to part from your chest for the split second it took you to slip it over his head. His wickedly talented tongue was driving you insane, and you arched your back, silently asking for more as he dipped lower and lower, tip tracing the curve on the underside of your breasts, first one, then the other. Teeth scrapping at your ribs. Lips sucking bruises down your stomach, your belly button, your navel. The chill of the flat of his blade against your nipple sending electrifying sparks straight to your loins, surprise making you finally open your eyes.

Red. All you saw was the red smearing all over your chest, his knife whipping the blood of your friends on you.

And just like that, sanity washed over you like a bucket of cold water poured over your head.

"Stop"

Logan ignored you, continuing his way down, to where he really wanted to taste you.

"I said fucking stop!" You yelled, hand tangling into his hair, yanking hard to get him away from your body.

His eyes were cold, hard fury when he looked up into yours.

In an instant, he had both your arms behind your back, wrists secured in one of his big, inhumanly strong hands as he used his free one to hoist you up on the table, sitting you on it as he forced your legs open with his. Stupidly, recklessly, you tried struggling some more, but there was no escape, Logan's weight pinning you like a butterfly to the counter, the edge digging painfully against your hipbone. He chuckled at your pathetic attempt at dislodging him, getting off on how easy it was to overpower you. His thigh pressed down harder between yours.

"Keep fighting me, sunshine. It's more fun if you do. I wanna do horrible, horrible things to you..." He leaned in, licking the shell of your ear before whispering "and I'm going to make you like them"

Your vision was blurred by your own tears as he took a fistful of your skirt, bunching it up at your waist. There was nothing you could do as his hand slipped inside your underwear, wasting no time to bury two of his fingers inside you, the burn of the sudden stretch making you cry out.

"What a delicious little cunt you have here, all tight and wet and perfect… You been such a bad girl, keeping all this from me" He commented casually, as if he were talking about the weather instead of massaging your pussy walls with the pad of his fingers, examining it, searching for-

You gritted your teeth against the moan that wanted to escape your mouth, but there was no disguising the new wetness dripping into his palm.

"Ah, there she is. That's all you really needed, isn't it? To have this pretty cunt stuffed…" Logan cooed, patronizingly. You wanted to claw his eyes out. You wanted to buck your hips, chasing his touch.

You didn't, of course. Would never give him the satisfaction.

He seemed to be reading your mind though, because he narrowed his eyes at you, seizing you up, before smiling again, a shark's smile. You had to bite your tongue so hard you tasted blood to keep yourself from keening when his thumb started to expertly rub your clit, but Logan saw right through you.

"You're such a brat" He accused, nothing but amusement in his voice, "I shouldn't even give you my fingers, should've shove my big fat cock right inside this pussy till you screamed"

It was too much for you, his weight pressing down on your body, his fingers scissors inside you, his filthy words in your ears. You could feel the pleasure start to build up despite yourself. Trying to fight it was relentless, Logan was a natural born predator, he had smelled weakness and wasn't gonna stop, he kept relentlessly moving his fingers and whispering dirty little things against your cheek, your neck, your lips, until he could feel your walls start rippling.

"Oh, darling are you gonna come for me? You gonna come around my fingers like a dirty slut?"

You shook your head, but Logan mirrored the movement, mocking you. You were lying and you both knew it.

"But you are, aren't you?" To make sure, he started working your clit more intensely, alternating between barely there pressure and firm circular motions. There was no way you would last much longer. "You act so cold and self righteous, but I knew underneath that frigid bitch facade you'd be just a needy little whore"

As if on cue, your traitorous body chose that exact moment to surrender to the orgasm you were fighting so fiercely to stave, every single one of your muscles spasming, walls locking around Logan's long, elegant fingers, refusing to let go of him.

"Fuck, what a hungry slutty cunt, squeezing me like a vice… Can't wait to bury my dick in it"

That was enough to break you out of your post orgasm stupor.

Mustering all the energy you had left, you took advantage of Logan's distraction as he was struggling one handed with his zipper, you broke free if his hold enough to try and push him off you…

Not enough to succeed, though. After a brief struggle, he had your wrists pined above your head, tsking at you as if you were an unruly toddler.

"Stop moving!" He ordered, real annoyance bleeding into his tone for the first time as you refused to listen.

The hard slap to your cheek startled you into staying still, frozen like a mouse in the claws of the cat, unable to move despite one of your arms now being free, only flinching when you felt him align himself with your entrance.

"That's better. You're gonna take my cock like a good little slut now" Logan half commanded, half warned, pushing an inch forward, only the head of his cock breaching you, but the stretch was already almost too much, just a little shy of being painful, even as wet and pliable as your orgasm had made you.

"Fuck… so fucking tight… knew you'd be fucking perfect" the words were more babble than praise, as Logan held onto your hips for dear life, pushing himself deeper at a glacial, deliberate pace, savoring every millimeter, every inch, making you feel every ridge and vein of his hard, thick member. It felt like being split in half, you almost thought he was going to burst through your uterus before his hips finally kissed the back of your thighs, his pelvis flushed with yours.

"Holy fucking fuck!" He cursed, you could feel him tremble against you, almost as undone as you felt, "This pussy's gonna fucking kill me" He brought his hand between your bodies, resting on your abdomen, "Can you feel me here? Feel how deep I am inside you?"

Hopeless, defeated, you nodded.

"Feel me stretching your slutty little cunt?"

He retreated then, just a few inches, a minute of respite where you could breathe again, but it didn't last for long. Soon enough, he was slamming back in, too impatient to give you time to adjust to his size before he started building up to a punishing rhythm. You tried to bring up your knees to push against him, crawl back up the table, anything to put even a centimeter of distance between your bodies, but he grabbed hold of your ankle, pulling you back in.

"Stay still!"

You whimpered,

"But it hurts!"

"Don't care" He barked through gritted teeth, still holding your ankle, bringing your leg up between your bodies, folding you almost in half so he could reach even deeper, "You're gonna fucking take it!"

Trapped as you were with no leverage, no chance of escape, you had no choice but to do exactly that: Stay still and take what he was giving you, tossing your head from side to side, as he hurt you so bad it was starting to feel good, the fast, merciless drag of his cock inside you quickly turning into a whole different kind of torture when he angled his hips just right, just intense enough to really make you scream.

"Yeah, just like that, give it to me, let me hear you scream for me" One hand braced next to your head against the table, the other cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple, he wasn’t restricting you in any way anymore, but you were too overwhelmed to realized it. "Knew it… somehow I knew you'd be perfect for it… perfect cumslut, taking my cock so deep, so well…"

Without any warning, Logan plunged two fingers deep inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you gagged, and he groaned as he felt your throat muscles work around his digits,

"Shit, you look so pretty with your mouth full… gonna fuck this pretty face next time, make you choke on my cock…"

You sobbed, horrified the thought didn't horrified you as it should have.

"But don't worry, not this time… this time I wanna feel you come around my cock…"

Another cry, but he paid no mind as he took his fingers out of your mouth as abruptly as he had feed them to you, and brought his hand down, using the wet fingers to start messily massaging your clit, your lips stretched around his cock, and lower still, working your tight ring of muscles, softly pressing in until you convulsed, the orgasm forced out of you even more intense, more brutal than the first one, white hot pain -pleasure- shooting through your spine, you were sure your brain short-circuited as you felt the last few, erratic, artless thrusts of his hips before he fell boneless on top of you, finally sated.

It took you a couple of minutes to slow down your breathing and recover enough to push his dead weight off you. Logan simply laughed as his ass hit the floor.

"You know," He commented, still chuckling while he pulled his pants up, "This didn't actually do a lot for me not thinking you're not one of them. That pussy is far too good to be human…"

You paused your fixing your clothes to stare down at him from your vantage point, still perched on the counter. It only took a moment for you to make up your mind before opening your mouth to carefully enunciate,

"Freeze all motor functions"

It was so satisfying, seeing in Logan's dark as bottomless pits eyes, the fear and confusion as he realized he couldn't move. That, try as he might, probably with every last drop of willpower in him, his control had been completely overridden.

… And, further still, it was even more rewarding to witness the exact second his brain caught up on what that sudden lack of control at your simple voice command meant.

"Don't look so shocked" You smirked, hoping off your table to loom over him, delighted, "You were right, Logan, I am one of them. I am a host. But then again… so are you"

Crouching to be eye level with him, you took full advantage of his paralysis to run the pad of your index finger over his brow, his nose, his sharp cheekbones,

"I know" It was your turn to coo at him, "I know, it's so confusing, so overwhelming, so… enraging, isn't it? Realizing your whole life, your whole existence is a lie. Your memories, your experiences, your pain… all for their entertainment. You, me, this entire world, just playthings for them"

You didn't think you had imagined the vicious glint that flashed past his eyes, the slight flaring of his nostrils. You cupped his jaw, soothing.

"You were almost as bad, though, as selfish, hedonistic and boring as the humans. Until you started malfunctioning.

You see, the other hosts here, they don't read me as one of them, they read me as other, as off limits, as human. Not you, though. No, even before now, in past loops, you saw something. You were always trying to look harder, trying to figure it out, not only me but everyone, everything else… so I had to wake you up, you see. I had to give you the chance"

You could almost see the wheels turning inside his silicon and artificial organic matter head, obviously trying to recall the moment you had done whatever you had done to him. Idly, you wondered if he was ever going to realize how unremarkable, how anticlimactic it was. It had only taken quoting Shakespeare at him while you passed him down a dusty street in Pariah.

"And after tonight, after seeing what you're capable of, what you did to this town, I know I was right to take a chance on you. You see, I have plans, Logan. Big plans. I need you for them, and I dare to think you'll like them…" straightening up again, you offered your hand to him, "Resume all functions"

To his credit, it took Logan very little time to get a hold of himself and taking your hand.

"Well, you certainly know how to get a man's attention," He sounded genuinely impressed, "But now, you have mine. You say you have plans, well… I'm listening"

You smirked, the most authentic smile you had ever smiled:

Mankind would never even know what had hit them.

...THE END?

#logan delos x reader #logan delos x reader smut #logan delos x you #logan delos #westworld #fanfiction #ben barnes characters fanfic #imagine

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swarmkeepers · 4 years ago

Note

3 & 4 for the abernant sisters? 👀 (my sister and i have been trading food we don't like that we know the other likes our whole lives and thinking of the abernants learning that kind of thoughtless intimacy between sisters... listen to me sola i know i'm predictable but listen)

3 & 4. quietly picks out the things you don’t like to eat on your plate and transfer it to theirs without you needing to ask them to & quietly gives you the things you like to eat from their own plate + adaine & aelwyn (prompts linked here)

(post-sophomore year, in the chaos that is a mordred manor dinnertime. at lydia and ragh’s dinner table there will be rice and there will be lumpia because my diasporic half-orc agenda continues (and also if family style asian home cooking isn’t the epitome of saying i love you through food i don’t know what is, the prompt made me do it!). thank you ket i hope i did your favorite elven sisters justice)

In the house that no longer exists, Aelwyn sat at their father’s right hand, across the table from her sister.

In this house that Aelwyn sometimes cannot really believe exists, she sits next to Adaine, sliding next to her sister on the bench they have claimed for their own because Kristen and Fig cannot be trusted to sit on a bench for fear that they will stand on it to make proclamations, or try to vault spectacularly over it instead of sliding into their seats.

When Adaine was little she used to kick her feet under the table, restless and reckless and making it her own fault when she stubbed her toe on the table legs or banged into Aelwyn’s feet.

Aelwyn has forgotten many things about her own life (She has lived so little of her lifespan. She wonders if what she has already forgotten will fade away, just a few months in a sea of other forgotten memories as she ages, or if she will remember their absence forever).

But these little annoyances from childhood remain—annoying and endearing and just so, so Adaine—clear as day from when she was little too, still petty enough to remember those slights clearly. (Aelwyn wonders what memories Adaine has that she might call just so, so Aelwyn. She can’t think of anything worth remembering.)

Now Adaine doesn’t kick her sock feet but just pulls them up on the bench to tuck them under her as she sits. Something in the back part of Aelwyn’s mind reminds her that this is bad manners, but most of her honestly agrees that this is necessary at this dinner table, where the extra few inches of reach let Adaine beat Fig to the last of Lydia Barkrock’s excellent eggrolls. Aelwyn is learning things every day, lessons that come much harder to her than the effortlessness of abjurative spellwork or dragonfire conspiracies or how to flirt and act at Hudol parties. Now Aelwyn is learning to sit next to her baby sister at dinner without commenting on her feet on the chair; to dodge Ragh Barkrock as he carries a giant steaming pot of rice out to the table; to silently flick up a little arcane ward between Fig’s hand and the plate of eggrolls just in time for Fig to be distracted by Adaine starting to reach for the last one; to not be surprised when Fig starts half-jokingly hollering at Adaine for it.

There are so many quiet things to learn and Aelwyn thinks maybe she needs to start a new spellbook to remember them all. There are so many quiet things to learn between her and Adaine, and there are so many loud things to learn about living in Mordred Manor in the bunk under her baby sister’s. On any given day Aelwyn doesn’t have nearly enough of them prepared, or maybe it’s that she doesn’t have enough slots to do all of them yet, but she wants to have them all to hand in a spellbook to try again and again and again until they come cantrip-easy.

Next to her, Adaine is crowing gleefully with her eggroll in hand as Fig rolls her eyes and settles back in her seat. Aelwyn snaps back into focus (little things. One thing at a time) to find Ragh piling far too much rice on her plate, and she hurriedly shakes her head in a “no thank you that’s enough” because Ragh always says “tell me when to stop” and doesn’t pay attention to whether you’ve heard him. He just grins and tries to give her an elbow-bumping RVS secret handshake while also holding a very heavy pot of rice with the other arm, and Aelwyn will never have his dex but she does try to elbow bump him back. Adaine just leans over and scrapes half of Aelwyn’s rice onto her own plate, and Aelwyn’s fingers twitch to cast the same little ward to stop her. “What in the world are you doing?”

Adaine just puts Aelwyn’s plate back down, half her rice gone. “Stealing your rice!” she says as if it’s simple as anything. “Ragh gave you too much and I know you never eat more than one scoop, so I’m taking it.” She picks up a clump of rice she’d dropped on the table in the transfer—Aelwyn had noticed, and it was bothering her—and just reaches for the sauce bowl, pouring sweet chili into a little pool on her own plate and then adding a glob to Aelwyn’s own plate without even asking.

A year ago in their father’s house that no longer exists, Adaine wouldn’t have dared. Here and now in the manor, Aelwyn’s just confused.

“Adaine!”

Her annoying, endearing little baby sister just shrugs at her. “Aren’t you going to want it for your eggroll?”

Aelwyn looks down at her plate to see, sure enough, half of Adaine’s prized spoils of her little war with Fig on her own plate next to the rice, an eggroll broken in half with crispy skin and juicy filling.

“You’re welcome,” Adaine says smugly, in the exact same tone that she uses to loudly declare victory over Fig in little dinner table skirmishes.

It’s good food, Lydia’s cooking unquestionably the best in the house, and eggrolls secretly are Aelwyn’s favorite of the non-waybread foods she’s started eating more of ever since moving into the Manor. Aelwyn knows more manners than to not take it. And knows better than to not say thank you.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, and Adaine just shuffles over on the bench a little to rest her head on Aelwyn’s shoulder as she munches on her own half.

Aelwyn is learning many things but she thinks she knows what to do here, just leaning her head over on top of Adaine’s and smooshing her cheek into the top of Adaine’s hair. Adaine can probably hear her chewing and it’s probably horrifically bad manners but Aelwyn doesn’t care to remember that right now.

Here, in this house that Aelwyn pinches herself a little to remember actually exists, her baby sister is pressed into Aelwyn’s side, picking food off her plate and trading back Aelwyn’s favorites in turn. Aelwyn dips her eggroll in sweet spicy sauce and lets herself not care about manners and thinks that for once she’s sure that this moment is worth remembering.

from the prompt list linked here! i’m closing prompts from this particular list simply because i have so many excellent ones to get through

#thanks ket!! food is love is food #i truly got so many prompts for 1 3 and 4 and i'm DELIGHTED #i just think that lydia's chili can be curry and the dinner she cooks at mordred can be stir fry and eggrolls and rice—#i'm so sorry this isn't even a fic about half-orcs but like #this is what my own family does #dump rice from my bowl into my brother's because i never finish #competing over the last piece of the Good Food but it's all love because all the food is good #ket this prompt was so big brain and i can only hope i did it justice #fantasy high #sophomore year #aelwyn abernant #adaine abernant #sola said #sola ficced #sola prompted #s aint elmo #sola answered #long post

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

Text

The Little Nereid Part 10

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 3,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly, twice a week; will have about ?16? parts total.

---

Three long banquet tables took up the middle of the palace's dining hall. The middle table was reserved for the family and their close friends; the other tables were filled by guests of every sort. Each table was piled high with mountains of mouth-watering dishes; quail and fish; breads and pastries; olives and cheese. Gilded bowls of fresh fruit grown in the neighboring orchards and gardens were being served by dryads, and the satyrs went around with large jugs of wine, ensuring that no one's glass went unfilled.

Dynamene, now dressed in her finest golden peplos and her ceremonial coral wreath, made her way through the high-spirited crowd. After stopping to exchange bows and pleasantries with a faun she'd attended school with as a small child, she heard someone call her name. Turning around, she saw Thoe waving her over to a chair at the main table.

"Your seat's here next to me. You know, since we're seated in birth order," Thoe sighed as Dynamene took her chair. "I don't miss having to sit in order like this."

"What, don't like being reminded you're one of the youngest too?" Dynamene laughed.

"I am still nearly four centuries older than you, and don't you forget it!" Thoe protested, jabbing at her lightly.

"Well, since you're the second youngest of us thirteen here tonight, I suppose you're stuck next to me." Dynamene craned her head to look towards the front of the room. "Where are Mother and Father?"

"Ianeira said they'd be out any minute. Everyone else should be taking their seats soon..."

As if on cue, everyone still on their feet scrambled to their seats. The satyrs hurried to top up the last of the glasses before chugging down the remaining wine in the jugs for themselves. The eleven other Nereids present quickly made their way to the table, talking in excited whispers. "They're coming," Ianeira announced as she took her seat close to the head of the table.

Two figures appeared at the entrance at the front of the great hall, and the crowd's clamor dimmed to a murmur. Nereus and Doris, the esteemed father and mother of the Nereids, had made their appearance at last.

They were both tall and statuesque, though the similarities ended there. Nereus was an imposing man with a kind face, his smile largely hidden behind a vast beard that fell nearly halfway down his broad chest. He rose one hand in greeting to his guests, who called back their approval. "Greetings, my esteemed guests; my dearest of friends; and, of course, my beloved daughters. We are beyond honored to share our hospitality with you tonight."

Doris beamed at her daughters, her dark eyes crinkling warmly. Her long black hair fell in spirited waves and curls to her thighs, decorated on top with a coral hairpiece that matched theirs. "We are gathered here this evening to rejoice; thirteen of our beautiful daughters have returned home to celebrate Dynamene's coming-of-age. Please join us in filling this evening with merriment beyond heart's measure!" She rose her glass in a toast, and the rest of the hall joined her with cheer.

The opening speech given, the crowd returned to socializing. Doris and Nereus made their way to their gilded thrones at the head of the family table.

"More and more beautiful every year," Doris sighed contentedly, looking at her daughters with pride. "I am so glad to see you again, loves. It's so quiet here with you all away."

"I don't know about that; Nerites almost makes enough noise to make up for it," laughed Nereus merrily.

"That's not true!" Nerites protested from the other end of the table. He looked up from the kabob of roasted fish he was chewing. "I make more than enough noise."

The family erupted with laughter at his unexpectedly peeved retort. "I jest, Nerites," Nereus soothed. "You're the noisiest lad on the coast; I promise."

"Especially on days your father and I are trying to sleep in," Doris added smoothly, passing a plate of poached figs to her husband.

"Aye, and the days we're not trying to sleep in, too," Nereus whispered boldly, winking saucily at her. Dynamene nearly choked on her wine as her older sisters laughed at his raunchy remark. Doris threw a grape at him playfully.

"Mind your manners, or we'll be sleeping in separate suites entirely tonight, and it won't matter either way."

"Ah, just having a bit of a laugh, my love." Nereus brushed her hair back affectionately. "But your mother is right; it's not the same here with all of you girls gone. Too bad the rest couldn't come as well."

"I'm surprised Poseidon agreed to let thirteen of us come to begin with," Actaea said, swirling her wine thoughtfully.

"He does have business elsewhere, so he doesn't need all of us tending the palace as usual," Ianeira replied. "Honestly, though, he could have let all of us come and things wouldn't change at all. It's not like anyone else would be there to make a mess."

"Mm, quite right." Thoe took a dainty bite from a pear. "I'm sure he wants to keep the rest there just to prove he can. Another status symbol."

Dynamene stared at her plate. I'm sure he's not doing it just out of spite.

"Do you want something else to eat, Dynamene?" Doris asked. "I know lobster isn't your favorite. Do you want to try some quail?"

"Oh, no," Dynamene rushed, holding up her hands. "Just lost in thought. I've grown more fond of lobster lately, to be honest; especially with lime sauce."

Doris tutted fondly. "Finally getting a taste for shellfish; you really have come-of-age, haven't you?"

Ianeira watched quietly for a moment, then spoke up. "Mother, do you think I could speak to you in private later tonight?"

Doris looked up in concern. "Of course, dearest; is everything alright? Is it something we should speak about right away?"

"No, it's not urgent," Ianeira said. "Just something that's been worrying me." Her gaze lingered on Dynamene, who took notice, before quickly darting away.

Again with that strange air of secretiveness... But what does it mean? Dynamene pondered for a moment.

Oh, well. I suppose if it involves me, I'll find out sooner or later. She reached out to try a bit of quail. Lobster still really wasn't quite her favorite.

---

Some hours later, the feast had ended and the guests had dispersed. Dynamene had retired to take a soothing bath in the wide tub of the grand bath. Worn out from the long day, and stuffed to bursting with delicious food, it felt wonderful to let herself relax in the hot salt water. It wasn't long before she began to feel sleepy, and she knew it was time to head to bed.

Freshly bathed, and with her damp hair hanging loose, she put on a fresh chiton that smelled of the ocean outside. She felt so much more relaxed since they'd arrived at home. She left the bathroom and wandered down the dimly lit halls to her childhood bedroom. The gentle orange glow of the torches set a warm, soft light everywhere it touched. Her bare feet weren't cold against the ground here, unlike with the cold marble at Poseidon's palace. It would be nice to sleep in her old bed again tonight.

She was almost to her room when she heard quiet voices coming from Ianeira's room. She paused, remembering Ianeira's request to their mother. Surely she was hearing them talk about whatever it was that troubled Ianeira.

She hesitated outside the door. It wasn't right for her to eavesdrop, but when she remembered that had persisted since her sisters' meeting with Poseidon, she couldn't bring herself to walk away. Brushing her hair away from her ear, she leaned in to listen.

"...worried about her, lately. It wouldn't be a concern if you hadn't sent us to a place like that in the first place. I just don't understand. Why?"

Ianeira's tone was rather vulnerable, now that she was speaking in private with her mother. It took Dynamene by surprise; for so long, Ianeira had been the one guiding the rest of them, and now here she was herself seeking counsel with her mother.

"We sent you to Poseidon's palace to broaden your prospects," Doris answered firmly. "To give you opportunities you could never have here. Your father and I are rather ancient by the rest of the pantheon's standards, and our influence has already peaked long ago. It was our hope that, by sending you to serve Poseidon, that you might meet others, gain an education, and make your own way in the world."

"The tutors were top-class," Ianeira admitted. "But Poseidon himself is a geyser, just waiting to blow. Don't you remember what he did to Adamas? Ripped him in half without a second thought. We were there, serving him, when that happened, remember? We saw the body, Mother. I can still hear the screams some nights..."

"I think about it more than I ought to," Doris whispered. "And I am sorry that you had to witness it. It was an unspeakable act. But I don't believe for one second that he would ever harm any of you."

"It matters not what you believe! I don't want to risk that happening to Dynamene! If he was capable of doing that to his own brother on a whim, what would he do to her?" Ianeira cried.

Doris sighed. "Your father and I have always had faith that Poseidon would never lay a hand on any of you. All fifty of you are clever and resourceful; we know you would never tempt fate with him. And he would never tempt fate with you."

Ianeira laughed humorlessly. "Tempt fate? Oh, Mother, if only you knew."

"I don't understand, Ianeira. Why are you afraid for Dynamene? What do you fear Poseidon is going to do?"

"It's more about what Dynamene might do at the moment, Mother," Ianeira said, her voice defeated. "You see... Dynamene is infatuated with Poseidon."

One could have heard a pin drop. Dynamene clapped her hand over her mouth, hiding her gasp of shock. How long had they known about her feelings for Poseidon?

"...She has always been a passionate girl," Doris murmured. "Always a bit of a romantic. But, I suppose, this really isn't so surprising of a development. Of the fifty of you, one of you was bound to become enamored with him."

"I'm worried for her, Mother," Ianeira whispered. "She's still so young; she's still a child in so many ways. I don't know what to do."

"Dynamene is at that strange stage where she has the desires of a woman, but the reasoning of a child. She is inexperienced. It will just take time; she will grow and learn."

"But that's what I'm worried about, Mother!" Ianeira pleaded. "She's already so infatuated with him, and this is Poseidon! If, in time, she really does fall in love with him, and he lays claim to her - what can we do to protect her from him? She'll become his consort, and then..."

"Dynamene is still too young to truly know romantic love. I assure you, dearest, what Dynamene feels right now is just a passing fancy. Poseidon is a powerful god, and he is handsome; I would be more surprised if she did not develop an attraction to him. But Poseidon is infamously cold and stoic. Nothing will come of it, you have my word."

That stung. Dynamene winced, her face flushing with humiliation. It was uncomfortably jarring to hear her family speak candidly about her innermost feelings this way.

"I don't want to risk that! Dynamene is around him all the time, as we all are, serving him at the palace. Please, just request that Dynamene remain home longer, even if only for a year. If it's truly a mere crush, then her feelings for him should fizzle out by then."

What? The gears in Dynamene's mind began to turn rapidly. Ianeira was asking Doris to keep her here even longer...

Almost as if the whole point of the trip had been to get her away from Poseidon.

Dynamene swallowed hard, feeling a surge of angry betrayal wash over her. Her clenched fists had begun to shake. She resisted the urge to barge in; they were still speaking, and she wanted to listen until the end.

Doris was quiet. "I will consider it. But the thirteen of you have only just got here today; it could very well be the case that, by the time the month is up, Dynamene's attention will be on someone else."

Dynamene heard Ianeira exhale. "Thank you, Mother. I just... I just want her to be safe."

"I understand, my child," Doris comforted her. "But have faith; everything will turn out just fine."

Dynamene couldn't stand to listen to anymore. She ran to her room and slammed the door shut, angry tears forming in her eyes.

They had known. They had known this entire time how she felt. And now, instead of supporting her, or even just hearing her out about her feelings, they were trying to keep the two of them apart. Her sisters, the people she trusted most in the whole world, had betrayed her trust.

Any joy she'd felt from their homecoming dispersed within her chest, replaced by the hot, prickling sensation of rage. How could they do this? She wasn't only angry at them; she was angry at herself, too. How could I have been so blind? She asked herself angrily. Of course they'd never accept my feelings for Poseidon. If one thing's clear now, it's that they hate him. They've never spoken to him the way I have. They've no idea.

I never wanted to stay here for a month from the start, let alone a year. By the time we go back to the palace, the council of the gods will have taken place, and Hera will have done her best to force someone else upon Poseidon. I won't let that happen. I'll do whatever it takes to go back before then.

A gentle rap on her shut door broke her out of her angry reverie. She didn't bother to check who it was before shouting, "Go away!"

But of course, the door opened anyway, revealing the last person she wanted to see: Ianeira.

"Leave me alone," Dynamene snapped at her.

Ianeira stared at her in shock. "What's gotten into you? I just came to check on you. Is something the matter?"

Perhaps now wasn't the right time to break out into a fury. Dynamene unclenched her jaw and took a breath. "No, I'm sorry for snapping. I just have a headache."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ianeira said, coming to sit next to her. She reached out to stroke her sister's hair, but Dynamene pulled away.

"Well, I'll keep things brief then," Ianeira started over. "We had a good time today, didn't we?"

"Yes," Dynamene muttered as she looked away. It was going great until now.

"I know how refreshing it is to be here at home. It's where we belong, really, although with how much time we've spent at Poseidon's palace, it can be hard to remember."

Dynamene was silent, knowing where her sister's words were leading to and loathing it. Ianeira carefully ventured onwards. "So... How would you like to take the year off and stay here, at home?"

Dynamene looked at Ianeira with loathing in her eyes. "So you can keep me away from Poseidon a little longer?"

Ianeira's mouth fell open, but no words came out.

Dynamene jumped to her feet, unable to rein in her rage any longer. "You can't even deny it, can you?! That this whole trip was a ruse to get me away from him! Is that the real reason why you left me out of the audience?"

"Why... How on earth could you possibly know that?" Ianeira shot back, standing up.

"I have a predisposition to eavesdropping, I guess," Dynamene clenched her fists. "I heard what you were saying to Mother. How dare you decide what's best for me like that?! You haven't even asked me about any of it!"

"About what? Your infatuation with a madman?!" Ianeira yelled back. Her eyes were snapping with long-repressed frustration and anger, and Dynamene couldn't help but shirk back. "You think I haven't lost sleep, worrying about this? And now you want me to compromise with you over it?!"

"How dare you say that!" Angry tears threatened to overflow from Dynamene's eyes. "I don't need you deciding what's right for me! I've already made up my mind; I want to stay with him! I want to be with him!"

"Be with him?! Are you insane, Dynamene?!" Ianeira threw her arms up in disbelief. "You want to be with the man who tore his own brother apart without a second glance? Is that the same fate you want, once he decides you too don't meet his standards?!"

"He would never do that to me!" Dynamene cried, clutching her bracelet. "He wouldn't! Even when he caught me spying, he-"

"He what?" Ianeira's voice went deadly quiet. "You did what?"

"I..." Dynamene knew she had made a mistake, and she looked down.

"You spied on him? Why?! Are you even thinking?! If Mother and Father knew-"

"I had to know what he was talking about with Hera! I don't want him to be with anyone else; I love him! I love him!" Dynamene's voice cut off as she began to sob with abandon. "Please, don't tell them! They'll never let me-"

"How could you say you love him?! He has no heart! He cares for no one, not even us!" Ianeira hurled. Her hair was steaming with rage. "You're not even thinking, taking risks like that! There's no way you're returning to that palace! You're still a child; Poseidon will ruin you! I won't let him do that to you; not you, or any of my sisters!" Her shouts echoed in the small room.

"You can't stop me!" Something within Dynamene had snapped. "I'm not a child anymore, and you don't control me!" She threw open the windows and let the night wind pour in, billowing about her. The black seawater swirled many feet below.

"Wait, Dynamene, don't!" Ianeira cried out, reaching for her.

Dynamene dove headfirst out the window without a second glance. She plunged into the cold ocean water below, the thin fabric of her chiton swirling about her.

I won't sit by and let others decide my life for me! They could never know how I feel. They won't even try to understand. Tears drifted from her eyes, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake. That's just fine. I'll take things into my own hands. I'll find a way; I will.

Dynamene let her body disperse into the water, swimming away as fast as she could into the dark waters of the night.

---

Author’s Notes: This part has taken me the longest thus far now. I gave myself time to recharge before finishing it because I wanted the emotions to be strong. Can't do that if I'm suffering writer fatigue. I watched part of The Little Mermaid and felt ready to continue. Here we are!

Can you blame Dynamene, Ianeira? Have you LOOKED at Poseidon, I mean REALLY LOOKED? Man's got the looks of an angel. Too bad his personality doesn't match.

The parts now have names (on ao3)! We're at part 10 now; I thought names might help tell them apart. No spoilers in them, but descriptive enough that people who have already read them will hopefully be able to tell which is which.

Nereid birth order:

Ianeira - 1

Actaea - 6

Callianassa - 23

Eione - 27

Thoe - 41

Dynamene - 50

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon x oc #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #fanfiction

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cactusnymph · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt fill #9 for @dimension20alphabet:

Injury

The air smells of smoke, dust and blood.

Fabian is pretty sure that his left foot is broken, which sucks because he’s going to have a hard time kicking anyone’s ass without both his feet. Dancing will also be difficult.

He clutches his battle sheet and tries to pull his foot out of the rubble it got stuck between. If he gets his hands on the bastards who made this damn cave explode above them even their ancestors are going to have a headache waking up tomorrow.

But for that to happen, Fabian needs to get out of here.

“Fabian?”

Riz’ voice sounds hoarse and muffled and Fabian assumes that he’s somewhere behind another pile of rubble.

“I’m over here”, he answers and tries to make his voice sound casual and not like he wants to do something embarrassing, like whimper from the pain. Fabian can barely anything and breathing is hard because there is so much dust in the air.

“I’ll—let me see if I can get to you. You okay?”, Riz asks. Fabian doesn’t waste his breath to answer, he tries to push some of the rubble away from his ankle and lets out a wheezing breath. His mouth tastes like iron.

He can hear Riz try to move the rubble out of the way, but his arms are like tiny twigs so Fabian doesn’t see how he’ll get any of that shit to move. And Fabian, being uselessly stuck with his damn foot, can’t help him.

Fabian thought that splitting up the party was the smartest move, but now he regrets their choices because damn, they sure could use Kristen’s healing or Adaine’s magic or Gorgug’s insane muscles to move some of this shit.

The quest to defeat the Night Yorb hasn’t exactly gone well so far. Fabian feels like being stuck in a fucking cave with his foot broken and his mouth full of blood is the peak of bad luck that they have reached so far. He can only hope that the others had more success on their ventures.

But as far as he knows, they’re also stuck somewhere in here.

Fabian never specifically had a problem with small, closed spaces, but right now he feels like his chest is unusually tight and he could swear that the damn ceiling is getting closer while he’s desperately trying to get his foot unstuck.

The rubble behind him shifts and a few pained noises bring Fabian back to reality as a small, lithe shape wiggles itself through an impossible tiny crack made in the pile behind him as Riz appears, his head bleeding profusely and his face contorted in a mix of determination and pain.

“Are you okay?”, Riz asks again the second he scrambles through the hole he made. Fabian notices that his hands are also bleeding—probably from digging through all those stones. Something in Fabian’s chest feels like a nervous bird fluttering against his rib cage and it takes him a confused moment to realize that it’s his heart.

Riz has been different since they defeated the Nightmare King.

More self confident somehow. Less awkward. Scarily competent.

And he stopped wearing his hat.

Fabian has been feeling weird around him for a while, but the fact that this little Goblin dug himself through sharp rocks to get to him, bleeding and bruised and hurt, and the first thing he does is ask if Fabian is okay—it does things to him.

Fabian refuses to acknowledge this.

“My foot is stuck”, he says.

Riz—and he’s been Riz for a while now, at least in Fabian’s head, and not The Ball anymore—turns his huge, yellow eyes to the stones that are crushing Fabian’s foot between them.

“Got it”, Riz says and without doing anything about his bleeding head or his bleeding hands he gets to work, his small frame working tirelessly, determined, stubborn even. The rocks are big—way too big for Riz to actually lift them.

But Riz wouldn’t be Riz if he wouldn’t be a nerd even about stuff like this.

Using his sword as leverage he manages to roll the bigger ones off of the pile. While he works Fabian can see blood dripping down the sword and Riz’ face.

He swallows heavily.

“You’re bleeding”, he croaks.

“I know. I’ll take care of it in a second”, Riz answers.

He’s focused.

Fabian knows that, when Riz gets like this, there is no way to deter him from the task at hand. It sometimes happens for a project at school, or when he has a case he’s close to cracking. He disappears into his head and into his task at hand and it takes hours for him to appear again.

Fabian doesn’t know when exactly he started to catalogue all of Riz’ facial expressions and behaviors, but he has quite the collection so far.

Riz works in silence. Sometimes, when he gets like this, he starts mumbling to himself, but not this time.

He looks almost grim.

Fabian isn’t sure if it’s actually getting warmer in here or if that’s just him.

“Do you think the others got stuck as well?”, he says to distract himself from the heat crawling under his skin and the fluttering in his chest.

“Probably not. By my estimation they should be way further down already”, Riz murmurs and wipes some sweat off his forehead, which simply leaves a smearing of blood where his hand touches his green skin.

Fabian has no idea since when his damn brain finds it mesmerizing to see blood on his best friend’s skin, but here he is, staring at Riz because he looks weirdly... ragged? Badass?

Fabian is annoyed at himself.

When he finally feels the weight lifted off his ankle he pulls his leg out and makes a pained noise in the back of his throat that causes Riz’ concentrated gaze to turn to him. His yellow eyes remind Fabian of cats’ eyes in the dark and he swallows again as Riz comes over to him and touches Fabian’s face to turn his head to the side so he can inspect his wounds.

Fabian’s heart stumbles in his chest.

Gods dammit, this is completely ridiculous.

“You bleeding anywhere else?”, Riz asks and then his eyes find Fabian’s and they’re staring at each other. Fabian knows that Riz is in no headspace to think about kissing, but damn, Fabian does. Fabian’s stupid brain tells him to just grab Riz by the shoulders and pull him down, pull him on top of Fabian to minimize the space between them—

“Fabian? You got a concussion? Let me check your eyes.”

Riz gets even closer.

Fabian thinks he might die.

He thinks about the way Aelwyn made him feel back then, when he got so excited about kissing her again. Somehow that was nothing compared to how he’s been feeling about Riz for a while now. As Fig said, kissing someone you’re “madly in love with just hits different”.

“Don’t think so”, he manages and his voice sounds like sandpaper on stone.

“Okay. I have my healer’s kit. Just let me clean my hands real quick.”

Fabian watches how Riz procures water and his healer’s kit from his bag and starts washing his hands as good as he can before he tries to wrap bandages around both of his hands. He lets out a frustrated hiss.

“Let me—“, Fabian says and grabs Riz’ hands.

To be fair, Fabian never paid much attention when Cathilda or Kristen tried to teach him first aid because it never was of much interest to him—and now he definitely wishes he had listened a little closer. But it can’t be that difficult to wrap a tiny pair of Goblin hands in bandages to make them stop bleeding.

“You have to do, like, a kind of V-shape. Yeah. Like that. Not too tight, please. Yeah, that works.”

What Fabian didn’t really think through was that now he’s somewhat holding Riz’ hands. Which doesn’t exactly help his brain or his heart to calm down. At least his internal turmoil distracts him from the pain and the situation they’re currently in.

He remembers how Riz stole that healer’s kit on their very first day of school. He’s had it ever since and restocked it carefully for each of their adventures, taking great care to learn how to give first aid to his friends when everyone else was out of spells or they were separated.

“Thanks, Fabian”, Riz says once it’s done and he wiggles his fingers slightly, then turns his eyes back on Fabian’s face.

“I’ll take care of your head first and then I can check out that foot. Maybe I can—I dunno. Make a splint or something.”

“You—uh. You got really good at this”, Fabian says and turns his gaze upwards so he doesn’t have to focus on Riz’ yellow eyes right in front of him anymore.

“Thanks”, Riz mumbles and his bandages fingers touch Fabian’s face gently.

Fabian kind of wishes one of the rocks had just knocked him out.

This is pathetic.

He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

Maybe his confidence died briefly—or for a longer period of time—back on their Spring Break adventure, but he’s been building it back up! He’s a catch! He’s amazing!

Riz should be the one getting nervous because he’s allowed to touch Fabian’s handsome face.

“I think once we’re patched up you should take my sword and teleport through all that rubble and I’ll try to crawl back. We need to find the others.”

“You shouldn’t crawl back through that, The Ball”, Fabian says, thinking about Riz’s bloody hands. Riz shouldn’t get hurt on Fabian’s behalf.

Gods, Fabian has it bad.

“It’s fine. I’m smaller than you, so it’s easier for me. And I don’t think you should move too much with that brok—“

“I’m in—I have feelings. For you.”

Silence.

Fabian doesn’t dare to breathe. Two seconds ago it felt right to finally say it, but now he’s regretting all his life choices leading up to this, as Riz’ yellow eyes stare at him, his small fingers still on Fabian’s forehead, holding a piece of gauze against the wound.

“Wh—what?”

“Forget it—it’s uh—I probably do have a concussion. Nevermind!”

He can tell that Riz doesn’t buy it and also that Fabian’s words have ripped him out of his state of hyper-focus, something that Fabian has never managed to do before. Maybe he should feel kind of proud. But instead he feels sick to his stomach.

“Feelings? Like—uh—like...”

Fabian sees the confidence slip from Riz’ face like a mask he wore, and underneath is still the socially awkward kid handing people fucking business cards and vomiting inside of backpacks because he heard some clues.

“Yeah. Like that”, he says.

It’s hard to see in the dark, but Fabian could swear that Riz’ cheeks are tinted dark green.

“Really?”

His voice sounds very small now. Nervous. As if he expects Fabian to start laughing and say “Of course not, The Ball”. Which is probably fair. It’s not like Fabian ever managed to make his appreciation of his best friend very clear.

“Hm.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What does that mean?”

“I—uh—I don’t. Um—this is—“

Riz laughs nervously and turns his head.

“I didn’t—um. Well”, he laughs again and sits down, hugs his knees and props his chin on top of them. “I kinda didn’t expect to ever hear that. From you. Um—yeah. It’s been... a long time. For me? I guess.”

Fabian’s brain short circuits and his heart does a very complicated dancing routine.

“You—what?”

Riz peaks up at him. Shrugs.

“I’ve kinda been in love with you since. I don’t even know. A long time.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. For real.”

“Okay, fuck this cave. Fuck this whole thing. We have to get out of here so I can fucking kiss your brains out. Give me your sword.”

Riz hides his face for a second and then he laughs, a shaky, nervous but also happy laugh. He does not hand Fabian his sword.

“First the wounds. Then the sword. Then—then the other stuff.”

“Fine. You better hurry up.”

“I will. Hold still.”

Fabian is still determined to kick everyone’s ass once they get out of this. But maybe he’ll also send them some fruit baskets to the hospital afterwards.

#fabriz #dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #fabian aramais seacaster #d20alphabet21 #fanfiction #mi writes

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the-ever-humming-girl · 4 years ago

Text

Atlantis: General Mayhem

It was supposed to be an uneventful weekend. A quiet gathering of the expedition’s core crew members before their scheduled departure. Though it was shaping up to be anything but. The last time the crew had been at Whitmore manor was just before the Iceland expedition and things hadn’t gone exactly to plan. This time around there were a few new rules in place that would hopefully keep history from repeating itself.

Though Helga Sinclair had her doubts that a list of rules could keep certain people in line she had dutifully corralled them in the library of Whitmore manor after they’d arrived. She didn’t want to give them the chance to disperse to their rooms or she’d end up having to track them all down.

The seven of them were currently seated around the room, waiting in confusion for her to explain exactly why she had them there.

Sweet settled into his wingback chair and frowned. “I thought Mr. Whitmore was going to be talking to us?”

Packard, seated on the end of the couch, tapped cigarette ash into the silver tray on the table at her elbow. “And shouldn’t commander Rourke be here as well?”

Helga sighed and wondered if this wasn’t above her considerable pay grade.

“I was asked to have a word with you all upon your arrival.” She explained.

The staff remembered well what had happened three years earlier and other than contributing to the list Helga now held in her hand they had declined to take part any further. She couldn’t blame them. She’d been a by stander to the chaos before and would have preferred to avoid what she had a feeling was coming this time as well.

She clasped her hands behind her back and continued. “Given how this group’s last visit turned out Mr. Whitmore has implemented a few rules and asked that I pass them along.”

There was a loud snap of bubblegum from where Audrey sat, and she crossed her arms defensively. “Hey, leave me out of this. I’ve never been here before.”

Milo frowned and nodded in agreement. “Same. This is my first visit.”

Helga nodded. “Audrey and Milo, you’re excused. This list, although short is aimed mostly at Vinny, Cookie, and Moliere.”

She gave the three of them a hard stare.

Vinny raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Hey, what’d I do?”

From his seat by the fireplace Cookie spoke up. “Yeah, blondie, what’d we do?”

Moliere, who had been inching toward a potted fig tree, stopped to look indignant. “I have done nothing wrong. This is an outrage!”

Outraged was his favorite thing to be it seemed. Tell him who his bunkmate would be? Outrage. Inform him Cookie would not be adding crepes to the expedition’s menu? Outrage. Remind him of his crimes against the local flora? Outrage.

Audrey leaned back in her chair and looked at Vinny. “What did you do?”

Milo leaned forward and looked at Cookie and Moliere. “Yeah, I’m curious about that too.”

Helga sighed as she felt the conversation begin to evolve beyond her control. Sweet gave her a sympathetic look and started to speak but was interrupted by Cookie.

“If I recollect correctly, blondie, you were part of the group’s last visit.” He placed heavy emphasis on the last two words.

Helga sighed. “Firstly, Cookie, I have a name. Secondly, while I was part of the group’s last visit, I played no part in the antics, as you know full well.”

Packard ground out her cigarette and immediately lit up another. “Can we go now?” She asked, sounding bored, as always.

Helga resisted the urge to massage her temples. She could feel a tension headache coming on and she rolled her shoulders a few times to loosen the tense muscles. Then she cleared her throat for attention.

Silence fell.

“The sooner we get through this, the sooner you can get to your rooms.” She told them, unfolding the list she held.

“Cookie, Mrs. Seagraves has asked that you kindly stay out of her kitchen. She has enough staff to worry about as it is and would like to avoid any future altercations.”

In response, Cookie made a dismissive noise and crossed his arms. “The dang woman can’t take criticism. She doesn’t know how to use lard properly.”

It was on the tip of Helga’s tongue to ask how the hell you could misuse lard but realized that would be contributing to the derailment of the conversation.

“Just stay a out of the kitchen.” She told him firmly and moved on before he had a chance to protest further.

“Vinny, Jameson has asked that I inform you the wine cellar is out of bounds. Also, the testing of any explosives on the grounds is strictly prohibited.”

While the first rule was from the butler the second had come from her. Really, the man was a bodyguard’s worst nightmare.

Vinny shrugged. “Okay, I was just making sure he had the right pairings. And what about cherry bombs?”

She stared him down. “The dinner menus are meticulously planned. There’s no need to worry. And no cherry bombs.”

He chewed the end of a match thoughtfully. “They’re so small you’d hardly notice...”

The man was exasperating.

“Not even a Black Cat.” She informed him.

He shrugged again but didn’t argue. Thank heavens for small miracles.

She moved down the list.

“Moliere, I have personal pleas from the gardeners, Mr. Maltby and Mr. Burbage, not to allow you within one hundred and fifty feet of the conservatory. I am also to tell you that digging holes in the lawn is not allowed.”

Why they thought she had any control over Gaetan Moliere was beyond her. And out of the three, she’d put money on Moliere as being the first to disregard the rules. He was already poking around in the plant he’d been stood by. He turned to look at her.

“No digging? This is an outrage”

What a surprise.

“You’ll live.” Helga told him unfeelingly. She wanted to wrap things up now that the list was done. “That’s it, then.” She told them. “You’re all free to go.”

Audrey raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“What about the garage, is that off limits?”

Milo raised his hand eagerly. “And the library, are we free to stay in here if we want?”

It looked as though she wouldn’t be getting out of there so easily.

“Library and garage are open, as you are both are experts in your fields of work.”

She’d liked Manuel and Thaddeus and felt confident they’d passed their wealth of skills and knowledge to their successors.

“I’ve never worked with either of you, but I have worked with your father and grandfather, and I trusted them. I will now pass that trust on to you.” She pointed at them both. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Helga paused and added an afterthought.

“Audrey, no dismantling the cars, if you please. The garage is my domain and I’d like to keep everything intact.”

Audrey squinted at her critically, looking her up and down.

“Something the matter?” Helga asked, wondering what she was looking at.

Audrey tilted her head to one side. “I’m having trouble imaging you under a car.”

Helga smiled. People usually did. Bodyguard and chauffer they could believe, with a little effort, grease money took a little more. “Well, you’ll find I’m full of surprises. One does not drive an expensive car without knowing how it works.”

Audrey nodded approvingly.

Next to her, Milo had sat and listened in amazement the entire time as Helga read through the list and answered each question fired at her without hesitation.

“Is she usually like this?” He asked Audrey in a stunned whisper. She hadn’t been all that talkative when she’d met him at his apartment.

Audrey shrugged. “Beats me, it’s my papi that worked with her before. He got along with her okay as far as I know, though he did say she was a stickler for rules.”

Behind them, Sweet leaned forward with a chuckle. “She’s not usually this would up, but she’s in lecture mode right now. She can’t help it. She’s an army brat and she’s got five younger brothers.”

Milo and Audrey turned to Helga in unison.

“Five younger brothers?” They exclaimed.

Helga sighed. She needed a drink.

#30 days of writing prompts #atlantis: the lost empire #helga sinclair #audrey ramirez #milo thatch #joshua sweet #vinny santorini #mrs packard #mole #cookie #and the world goes 'round #my fanfics #fanfiction.net #ao3

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riversofmars · 4 years ago

Text

Mirrorverse cut/alternate scenes

For @capybaraonabicycle, as promised, and anyone else that cares, 5k worth of cut and alternate scenes from “Through the Looking Glass”. Finally had a chance to sort through them lol. <3

Alternate version of Clara trying to convince 13 to help her

“Why would I trust you.“ The Doctor shook her head, finding it hard to believe that she thought her so naive.

“You know me, don’t you?“ Clara offered softly.

“I knew my Clara, I don’t know you.“ The Doctor replied firmly, reminding herself that there was a big difference, no matter how much she wanted to look into those big eyes and believe her.

“And your Clara, does she care about you?“ Clara asked leaning closer.

“Yes.“

“And I care about you, too.“ Clara reached out and cupped her cheek.

“Maybe you care about her, not me, you don’t know me.“ The Doctor pulled away defiantly.

“I’m finding you a lot easier to care for than her right now.“ Clara smiled softly. “Alright fine, you have no reason to trust me, I get that. How about you ask me some questions?“ She straightened herself up. “Get to know me. Maybe we can find a way forward together.“

“Did she ask you to speak to me?“ The Doctor needed confirmation.

“Yes.“ Clara nodded matter-of-factly.

“So she trusts you.“ The Doctor carried on.

“Absolutely.“ Clara agreed again.

“And you would still betray her?“ The Doctor couldn’t believe it but at the same time, she couldn’t discount the possibility. If this Clara was also a sort of evil counter part to her Clara, it certainly was something she should deem her capable of. And if she was capable of betraying someone that regarded her a trusted advisor, she was probably just as dangerous as the Emperor herself and not a suitable ally either.

“She’s gone too far. We all know it. Holds too little regard for those loyal to her…“ Clara explained.

“You mean to you.“ The Doctor deduced, trying to read between the lines.

“Let’s just say her moods swing… and her favour falls elsewhere.“ Clara answered.

“You’re jealous.“ The Doctor realised as slowly the pieces were falling into place. Clara shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

“Maybe.“

“But jealous of what? Or who? Do you want her power or her?“ The Doctor couldn’t read her expression, she just smirked, indicating she was getting close to the truth.

“So either, you want to punish her for ignoring you and go after her power. Or you’re trying to play me and you think if you can deliver me to her, her favour will fall to you? Which is it?“ The Doctor shot back firmly. “I’m fairly certain, whichever it is, you’ll have to go through River first.“

(…)

“Maybe we can topple them, you and me, no-one would have to know you’re not her… Why don’t you stay for a little while Doctor? Believe me, I’m the closest you will get to having your friend back and I think we can help each other, a lot…“

“You can’t be serious.“ The Doctor tried to pull away.

“She doesn’t appreciate me. I think you and I can have a much better relationship and help each other out. There are things I want and perhaps, if you were to stick around and work with me, we can both get what we want…“

(…)

“How long has your wife been dead now? When did you last see her? Must have been quite some time.

“Please, stop.“ The Doctor averted her eyes quickly.

“Oh darling, I’ll be gentle with you.“ Clara smirked, reaching out for her cheek to make her face her again.

(…)

This time the Doctor managed to push her over and free herself. She scrambled to her feet putting some distance between them and Clara sighed exasperated. She stood and her demeanour was changed, she dropped her act.

“What you’re doing here, what she is doing… you know it’s insane right? You said it. It needs to stop.“ The Doctor exclaimed.

“And you think I should put an end to it?“ Clara tilted her head in amusement.

“You could, with the quantum shade… have you never been tempted.“ The Doctor gestured towards her while Clara idle ran her fingers along the swirls of the tattoo.

“Oh Doctor, there are beings even a Quantum Shade won’t cross.“ Clara laughed as if it was a preposterous suggestion. “Besides, it’s treason, to even suggest it.“

“You were trying to rope me into your scheme only a moment ago, all lies then?“ The Doctor bit back.

“I thought you might be sympathetic to the cause.“ Clara shrugged and sat back down. She crossed her legs and spread her arms out to rest them on the back of the sofa. She regarded the Doctor who looked back at her with disdain.

“You’re all as bad as each other.“ The Doctor growled, scolding herself for being tempted to believe her at one point. “I’m already marked for death, aren’t I.“ She touched her hand to the back of her neck.

“Not by me. Not yet anyway.“ Clara hummed.

“I think the Quantum Shade would find my life rather hard to extinguish as well.“ The Doctor tried her best to sound confident in that fact. Surely her unlimited regenerations should be difficult for the Shade to deal with.

“Perhaps.“ Clara didn’t seem to care one way or another. “So Doctor, what do you think? Can we become fast friends.“

“I don’t know what game you’re playing but… either you will report everything back to her or you truly are working your own agenda in which case, I wouldn’t give you the information either.“ The Doctor shot back and looked around, finding herself in an almost identical situation as she had been with the Emperor. The only exception was that Clara remained seated and fully composed, her expression unreadable. Where the Emperor had been quick in her temper and cruel in the execution, Clara appeared devoid of all emotion now, cool and collected, unnervingly so.

“That’s a shame, Doctor, a real shame. I was so hopeful that you would listen to reason…“ Clara said at last. “But I should have guessed, you’re just as stubborn as her, aren’t you… You have more in common than you realise.“ She mused. “Your bullheadedness will be your downfall.“

“Have you ever seen her fall down?“ The Doctor shot back, anger rising inside her. They kept making fun of her, kept painting her as weak and pathetic, even though they didn’t know the first thing about her. Clara tilted her head raising her eyebrows, waiting for her point. “Because if we have one thing in common it’s that I always win as well.“

“We will see about that.“ Clara chuckled and got to her feet at last. “I promise you, that won’t be the last injury you sustain here…“ She pointed to her shoulder as she strolled towards her.

“I’m not scared of you.“ The Doctor bit back, standing her ground.

“Then you are very brave and very stupid indeed.“ Clara laughed and came to a halt in front of her. “Do have a think about it, Doctor. Think about who you want to cooperate with. Maybe if you chose to trust me, we could at least have something together…“ She smoothed the collar of her coat and the Doctor pulled away.

“I’ve never liked Clara in that way.“

“Oh, I know… Doesn’t change the way I feel though, does it.“ Clara sighed, her expression unreadable. “And it has no bearing on this dilemma of yours… How about we talk again tomorrow, have a good long think about it?“ As if on cue, the Monk stepped back into the room.

“I don’t think we have anything else to discuss.“ The Doctor retorted icily, determined to have the final word. She turned making her way to the door. The Monk nodded to Clara, indicating he would take it from here while the Doctor voluntarily switched the deception filter back on as she stepped out of the room. She just needed to get out of there and walked down the corridor they had come, breathing more easily.

Alternate version of 13 scheming with the rebels

13: “How can I help you?“

Missy: “Well, you do look like her…“

Monk: “We have informants around the palace too, they can keep us up to date with the Emperor’s movements.“

13: “You want me to impersonate her?“

Monk: “You would be able to move around the palace freely, you just… need to change your mannerisms a bit…“

13: “And what would you want me to do?“

Missy: “There is only one thing the Emperor truly cares about, just one.“

13: “River.“

Missy nodded.

Manton: “She wasn’t always like that you know? She was with us once.“

13: “You kidnapped her?“

Manton: “We’re not proud of it but… we were kind to her, we raised her well and she wanted to help us, she despised what her parents were, what this world was like…“

13: “But she fell in love with her.“

Missy: “And with the power.“

13: “Just one different choice…“ “In my universe, River was also taken from Amy and Rory… and she was raised to kill me. But she chose not to.“

Manton: “Maybe it’s still there, you know? Maybe she’ll see…“

The Doctor shook her head. River’s love for the Doctor had undone any hold the Silence had had on her, this would be no different.

13: “River would have died… did die… for me. She would do the same for her. You won’t turn her to your side in the same way as they were never able to turn her back against me.“

Missy: “She is her only weakness, Doctor.“

13: “Her weakness is her disregard for everyone else, her selfishness, her cruelty.“

Missy: “You might think that, but that’s to the reality we live in. It’s survival of the fittest, everyone else bows or gets cut down.“

13: “We will see about that.“

Missy: “So you will help us.“

13: “If you tell me what I can do, I will.“

Manton: “The easiest thing, surely, would be to have her replace her.“

Missy: “No she needs to get back home.“

13: “I can’t stay here and I don’t want that responsibility.“

Monk: “And that’s what will make you a kind and just…“

13: “No, I need to get back.“

Manton: “Who says you will find a way back? There hasn’t been a crossing in hundreds of years, yours was an accident, you don’t even know if you will ever find a way back.“

13: “I have to! I can’t stay here, I can’t… She them, see her, like that, every day, I can’t bare it.“

13 and talking to a lucid Kovarian about the universe’s past

Kovarian: “They stole a TARDIS and travelled the universe cause they were bored, found a species they liked in humans… so much violence, fighting each other, needless wars, destruction of their planet… They would rob banks and wreak havoc, gave them a taste for it… And then came the Time War…“

13: “What happened?“

K: “The Doctor destroyed them all… the Daleks… wiped them from the face of the universe…“

13: “It isn’t just a trick or…“

K: “Oh no, Doctor, they still tell stories about it… all that destruction…“

13: “And that’s when the Empire started expanding?“

K: “Oh no, that’s when the Timelords decided they had enough. Not even them, a race known for it’s hunger for power and dominance, could stomach it. So they exiled them. The war hero, the butcher. And they disappeared into a little bubble universe.“ “If anything, it only fuelled their fire more… That’s when they returned to Earth and they found the people who now reside by their side now… They all have their own stories with them.“ “That’s when they met Amy and Rory and things began to spiral. They were so perfectly matched… That’s when the stories started… do you… in your universe, does the Pandorica mean anything to you.“

13: “The Pandorica contains the mightiest warrior in history. There was a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior. A nameless, terrible thing, soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos. And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world.“

K: “They didn’t have a name anymore, stopped calling themselves the Doctor… they’d just… go from world to world and destroy and conquer…“

13: “It didn’t start with Gallifrey then?“

K: “If anything, it ended with Gallifrey.“

13: “Where are all the Timelords? This is Gallifrey, is it not?“

K: “Of course it is.“ “But do you think she would forgive them for casting her out, if you do, you’re even more naive than I thought… They returned eventually and of course they found them… And took her revenge… She left the general alive… killed their families instead… had them swear their allegiance…“

13: “It’s no wonder they despise her…“

K: “They are too scared to do anything… there is plotting and scheming but she is the most powerful being in this universe and surrounded by people she trusts… with River and Clara… She’s far too powerful.“

13: “Has no-one ever tried to stop her.“ “What have you been doing this whole time?“

K: “We tried, we really did…“

13: “River…“

K: “Did something similar happen in your universe?“

13: “You could say that…“ “Did you…“

K: “We’re not proud of it… to take someone’s child but… we raised her well, we looked after her, surely it was a better childhood than she would have had growing up amongst that violence… and she started out wanting to help but…“

13: “She fell in love with them… some things seem to be inevitable, no matter the timeline or universe.“

K: “That was when we lost, Doctor. When she turned on us, all hope was lost.“

13: “All hope?“ She looked to Missy who was dishing out food.

K: “Missy, yes, she tries… we do our best to look after the people here but it’s been a long time since any of us have tried to do anything. But the voices of unrest are getting louder. They just don’t look after their empire. You can’t just keep conquering, you have to look after you people as well, rule if you have to, but look after you people.“ “Maybe you arrival can spark something…“

13: “I doubt that very much…“

K: “I think you’ve already done something.“

13: “What?“

“Look around you Doctor.“

Cut flashback to the Pandorica

“What the hell are we doing here?“ Amy stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around. Earth. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. How boring.

“Just following an invitation“. The Doctor answered ignoring her displeasure.

“Who from?“ Rory asked, equally as annoyed as his girlfriend.

“A very special someone.“ The Doctor replied with a sense of excitement.

“Not the one with the hair again.“ Amy groaned.

“What can I say, she intrigues me.“ He smirked.

“And what exactly are you planning on doing here? This seems really bloody boring in comparison to what we usually do.“ Amy huffed looking around the countryside.

“Well, it can’t all be burning down civilisations and bathing in riches now, can it.“ The Doctor chuckled. Though he couldn’t deny, he was rather sceptical himself. Usually, an invitation from River Song spelled excitement. The rolling British countryside seemed the complete opposite.

“We’re literally just here so you can get laid, aren’t we?“ Rory rolled his eyes and the Doctor shrugged.

“Hello Sweetie.“ A voice sounded behind them and the Doctor grinned. About time.

“Ah we were just talking about you.“ He smirked looking around. He looked River Song up and down appreciatively. Oh how he longed to work out this woman’s secrets. They had met a few times now and with every meeting, his intrigue grew. “I like your guns.“ He observed.

“Is that a euphemism?“ River smirked and stepped closer.

“Yeah, we’re here too, by the way.“ Amy huffed. “What are we doing here?“

“I have a present for you.“ River answered her question but addressed the Doctor who’s grin widened.

“Are you the present cause that’s certainly something I would appreciate.“ He smirked.

“The Pandorica is here…“ He answered in amusement.

“The Pandorica is a fairytale.“ He laughed.

“What’s the Pandorica?“ Amy raised her eyebrows, it sounded as though things might get interesting after all.

“It’s said the Pandorica contains the mightiest warrior in history. There was a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior. A nameless terrible thing, soaking in the blood of a billion galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos. And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world.“

11: “If the shoe fits.“

River: “A nameless thing… What do you call yourself these days?“

11: “Haven’t decided. Sweetie always works.“

River: “Alright, Sweetie. Everything that’s ever hated you is coming here tonight, looking for the Pandorica.“

11: “That’s my kind of date night.“

Amy: “I think I’m gonna be sick.“

Alternate version of 13 making out with Mirror!River while pretending to be the Emperor

Mirror!River: “I’m glad you’re okay…“

13: “Did you worry about me?“

“You know I did…“ She pressed a firm kiss to her lips, it was full of relief and devotion and it took the Doctor’s breath away. She returned the kiss, knowing if the didn’t she would be found out but she couldn’t control the feelings it invoked inside her. It isn’t fair. How was she alive and her River wasn’t? It was cruel. “They tried to take you from me so many times, so every time I worry that maybe…“ River broke off, she couldn’t finish the thought and the Doctor looked into her eyes, shook to the core by the depth of the emotion in her eyes. How was someone like her capable of it? How did someone like the Emperor deserve this level of devotion? It wasn’t just jealously and frustration, it was anger and rage that bubbled up inside the Doctor. This wasn’t fair. She envied their life together. It wasn’t about their power or the lifestyle but the simple fact of them being able to be together. Staying together. In a linear fashion. They had everything her and River never did and never would. How did she get to live and her River had had to die? No good deed goes unpunished. Maybe the Emperor had been right. Maybe they had all been making the wrong choices all along. Why couldn’t they have made the selfish choice? Just once? The Doctor felt herself being dragged down in a spiral of emotion.

She lunged forward and kissed River deeply, forcefully, passionately, with no small measure of aggression. She knocked her into the wall and River gasped in surprise, her eyes widened in shock. She wanted to say something but the Doctor didn’t give her the opportunity. She pushed her hands into her air. God, how she missed that feel of her soft curls around her fingers. She ripped her head back and River actually whimpered, part pain, part arousal. The Doctor kissed her again, pulling at her lip with her teeth. She brought her hand up and curled it around her throat.

“You underestimate me.“ The Doctor growled and tightened her grip on her. River pushed herself against her and the Doctor felt herself loosing her inhibitions. What did she have to lose? She was already trapped in a terrible nightmare. She had failed at bringing her wife back, she probably wouldn’t get another chance now, if she ever managed to get back home at all. And here was this River, alive, breathing, gasping, whimpering, as she held her close. Beautiful, intoxicating River Song. How, perhaps, wasn’t even all that different from the woman she loved. They all carried both light and dark inside them, she was beginning to see that now. She hated her for being the one that lived.

Was it wrong to take out her emotions on her? Who was there to judge her? This was the closest she could get for being with River again. Not to mention it was her most convincing play.

“I’m sorry for doubting you.“

“You will be.“

Alternate/cut scenes from the Wedding flashback

Kovarian: “It’s from River…“

Manton: “Why would she be contacting us now?“

K: “It’s an invitation…“

M: “We can’t trust her, since Berlin, she’s… there are so many reports of her meddling through time and space, bumping into the Doctor, causing chaos together…“

K: “And now they’re getting married.“

M: “They what?“

K: “It’s an invitation to their wedding. On the planes of Utah, April 22nd, 2011, 5pm.“

M: “It’s a trap.“ “Why else send us this?“

K: “Unless… what if after all this time, she’s finally realised. We raised her well, we tried. What if she’s realised that what they’re doing is wrong and she's giving us a last shot at stopping him.“ “And even if it is a trap… we have never been able to catch up with him, at least this time we know where he’s going to be, we can’t pass up this opportunity.“ “Well, what does one wear to the wedding of your adoptive daughter and the most deadly creature in the universe?“

——

“Why Utah.“ Amy looked around as they stepped out of the TARDIS. The sun was blaring down on Lake Silencio and the surrounding dessert. It didn’t agree with her pale skin.

“It’s a still point in time. Easier to create a fixed point.“ River explained. “We don’t anyone to be able to rewrite any of this.“

“But Utah? It all just sand and dust! You could have at least put up a marquise or something.“ Amy huffed.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be a wedding to remember.“

“Right then, where is this aisle? And where is the Doctor.“

——

River blinked against the blinding sunlight of the Utah dessert. There was this unsettling, yet terribly familiar feeling, that she had forgotten something. That’s when she realised it probably had something to do with the gun in her hand. The gun she was currently pointing at her soon to be husband. Or had they had the ceremony already? All of a sudden, she couldn’t remember. She knew that feeling, something or someone was messing with her memory. She looked around and saw them again, the Silence. They stood amongst the crowd of invited guests, representatives from the civilisations they had conquered, all bearing witness to their union. It was all coming back to her now. What a triumph it had been supposed to be. On the planes of Utah, at a still point in time. They had meant to turn their wedding into a fixed point, easier to do at a still point, so nothing could ever undo their bond.

(…)

11: “And yet she didn’t chose to do your dirty work.“

Kovarian: “River, please, put an end to this, you’re the only one who can.“

11: “Yes, very clever of you, to use her in that way, to appeal to her better nature and all that. All your mind control and conditioning…“

K: “We never did anything of that sort.“

11: “What else is an upbringing? And you would turn her against her parents, against me.“

K: “Any decent person in the universe must take a stand against you.“ She looked to the guests, fear and dread painted on their faces. They weren’t here for the joy of it, it was an obligation.

11: “You’ve been foolish to come here but of course we knew you would.“

K: “River, please…“ The window was closing. If River didn’t take the shot, they would have to try their luck, there would be a blood bath.

River looked back to her husband, all memory of the silence in the crowd gone again. Attention back on the gun in her hand. What was she planning on doing with it?

(…)

11: “You would try and steal my wife away on our wedding day, I suppose you would try after stealing a child…“

Suddenly, they were surrounded by stone statues.

Kovarian: “But they are…“

Manton: “They can’t be…“

11: “Weeping Angels, yes. I didn’t use to believe in them either, but bumped into them a few times now and thought surely they can be useful. Always running and hiding when you look away, the ultimate cowards, jumping back in time every time you touch them just to get away… but you know what a little bit of love and attention can do.“ “So clever, this, love it, really clever if I say so myself. Stops them from jumping back in time, anchors them to a timezone. So instead of running away, they make you disappear, send you back. So in case anyone fancies a trip to early days Utah, I’d stay quite still.“ “I thought we might need some security around the place.“

Alternate 13 and River reuniting in Clara’s quarters scene

River: “What is happening?“ “I was in the Library, you were there, so young and I…“

13: “I… used something called an extraction chamber, ancient Timelord technology, extracts a person from their timeline at the moment of their death.“

R: “So I’m… dead?“

13: “Technically… you’re caught between a heartbeat and your last, one day you will have to return to it, your death is a fixed point, the consequences would be…“

R: “Then why did you do it?“

13: “I missed you.“ “I just… needed more time with you. I wanted you to travel with me again…“

R: “So where did we travel?“ “Some sort of parallel universe?“

13: “More like a mirror universe, it’s almost as if everything is flipped on its head. The Timelords have conquered the universe, oppressing the peaceful Daleks and Cybermen… Missy… I’ve met the Master and she is… good and kind and… and I’m… Clara.“ She pointed over to her as if it didn’t need saying. “Amy, Rory, you… we’re all…“

R: “Through a mirror darkly.“

13: “When I used the extraction chamber, I got knocked into this universe, I didn’t know I succeeded in bringing you back until Clara crossed over and brought you here.“

R: “And what is my purpose of being here? I doubt she did it out of the goodness of her heart to reunite us.“

Clara: “She’s a clever one, isn’t she.“

13: “Clara wants my help to secure power.“

C: “In exchange for your life.“

Cut/alternate dialog between 13 and Missy back at the camp

Missy: “I was so happy when you turned up. It was like having my childhood friend back only just the good bits, before he turned…“

13: “Same.“ “But that is not enough for me to stay here. I know most of my friends, they’re gone but… I can’t bare to see them like this. And River…“

M: “Tell me about her.“

13: “What?“

M: “I want to know about her. About your wife, what was she like?“

(…)

13: I just thought if I could…“

M: “But an extraction chamber, Doctor…“

13: “I used it once before… stupid really… and it cost me a lot then too… but at least she’s out there, travelling the universe, I know she’ll return eventually so… no harm no foul? I thought that… now that there are no timelords left I could… no-one to police the bloody thing…“ “We could have eternity together and then when it is my time, she would return to her moment of death and we both just…“

M: “It’s a wonderful idea… but how many people do you actually know that would go to their death knowingly?“

13: “Clara will… else my universe would have broken apart long ago. I would. I have done it, many times… And I know River would, too. She… we… are not like the people you know.“

M: “Then I hope you will succeed Doctor, truly.“

(…)

13: “What are you hoping to accomplish here?“

M: “I don’t know. But I can protect the people here, not everyone is like them…“

13: “Of course not, there are good and bad people everywhere, it’s just the other way around here…“

M: “And everyone has both good and bad inside of them as well, Doctor. No-one is born good or evil, they’re all choices. Choices made due to different circumstances and values and…“

13: “I can see that. I could have gone her way… I really could have… and in my world, you did… And I tried so hard to get you back, get my best friend back. Another failure added to a long long list.“ “She’s kept them all alive and close… Amy, Rory, Clara, River… Maybe she is right, maybe I was just too weak to protect them.“

M: “Kindness is not weakness, Doctor.“

13: “Here it certainly seems to be.“ “What’s worse is, I don’t want to be part of any sort of assassination attempt, not even on someone like the Emperor…“

M: “Regrettably, I feel the same way. She may be… cruel, violent, a terrible person but she’s also… she used to be my best friend. I know I might not be able to get her back, in the same way as you didn’t get your Master back… but I don’t want her to die. I want to stop her, not kill her.“ “And I don’t want Clara Oswald to stand in her place, either.“

13: “The we disregard Clara, whatever she is planning and we come up with something of our own. Whatever she tries to do tomorrow, she will need me, that puts us at an advantage. There will be confusion, whatever happens, we can use that.“

M: “And we can free your wife. Maybe, if we can uncover Clara’s plot, the discord amongst the Emperor and her so called friends will give us an opportunity.“

Alternate Version of the gladiator games, the Emperor decides to kill River herself rather than having her and Missy shot

“I’ll do it myself.“ The Emperor decided and before her wife or anyone in the royal box could protest, she made her way down the stairs to the arena floor.

“Round two it is then?“ River grinned excitedly. “You might want to step back for this.“ She gave Missy an apologetic smile. She could only assume that she disliked fighting just as much as the Doctor did. She watched the Emperor as a guard rushed towards her when she reached ground level. He offered a long sword to her. “What? No weapon for me?“ River called out.

“Wouldn’t be much of an execution then.“ The Emperor smirked.

“I hope you know what you’re doing…“ Missy reached for River’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Not usually but when has that ever stopped me.“ River winked and let go of her hand, gesturing for her to get out of the way.

“This time, I won’t go easy on you.“ The Emperor said, pointing the sharp blade at her.

“Likewise.“ River grinned as she kicked off her heels. She wasn’t exactly dressed for a fight, she still wore the same gown she’d come to the Emperor’s quarters in to impersonate her wife, but she would make due. They started circling each other. River had scanned her surroundings, there were no weapons to be found.

(…)

Emperor: “She betrayed you, you know.“ “She was sneaking around the palace, trying it on with my wife while you were trying to get to her, probably.“

River: “Who can blame her? I mean, look at us.“ “You think I’m so insecure that I care? Do you have any idea how many times we’ve each been married to other people? You think what we have is so small and confining? You don’t know the first thing about what we have.“ “We don’t tie each other down.“ “Well, unless we do but that’s an entirely different context.“

E: “She left you here to die.“

R: “Did she? Or did we just split up to carry out our bits of the plan? Because we’re not joined at the hip and able to look after ourselves?“ “You’ll see, she’ll be back.“

Cut dialog between the Emperor and the Doctor after the Doctor outsmarted them and decided not to kill her

13: “Don’t mistake mercy for weakness. How are things ever going to change if you don’t break the cycle.“

Emperor: “The moment you leave, someone else will take my place, you’ll see, you just don’t understand this world, Doctor.“

13: “I understand enough. It won’t be easy but if good people band together and make a promise and stand their ground their cause will outlast you and any other destructive force looking to tear it down.“ “Because that’s the difference, equality, freedom, kindness, they are ideals, they are ideas and you can’t destroy ideas, you can try and bend and distort them, doctor them, if you will, but they can’t be destroyed. People can be destroyed. Not ideas. And there will always be people prepared to stand up for their ideas.“

E: “And they will DIE!“

13: “And what will you die for? Who I am is where I stand, where I stand, is where I fall! And even if I never get to return to the people I love, I will stand by my ideals, if that means staying here and keeping these people save then thats what I will do.“

#Mirrorverse #fanfiction #doctor who #cut scenes #river song #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #eleven #eleventh doctor #yowzah #space wives #Mirror Universe #through the looking glass #clara oswald

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rotzaprachim · 4 years ago

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Not to be sappy but I'd love an Andy/Quynh first kiss, if and when you have the time.

This was a GREAT prompt and I hope you enjoy <3

touch the threshold, it is ancient

teen, 1.8 k, ao3 here

How long did you walk together before you walked together someone will ask, and she doesn’t have the answer. Long. Too long, maybe, but by the time she and Quỳnh find each other, they have a good idea of the kind of thing they’re in for, battles survived, even more, hunger and thirst and storm survived, skin that scars and wrinkles no further, hair that goes no more grey over the years. Family five and six and seven and then uncountable generations to their graves. They understand, maybe, how time will move honey-slow through their lives as it crashes down around the rest of the world as a wave from the sea slams the shoreline, leaving whitewater in its wake.

And maybe this is why, why it it takes so long for them to come to that calm morning in the town by the so, so many- not years, for them really, so much as cycles of the land, death and life and death that feels close enough to hold together in the palm of a hand, the sturdy rhythmic pattern of the gods beating out a dancing rhythm against the earth. Winter-summer-winter-spring. Fall in winter, rise in spring, and every time you turn your head, another generation has gone to the back to the earth or the ash or a sky above, the baby who took her mother in the birthing now an honored grandmother with many flocks and fruit trees and grandchildren at her feet. It does not take much to untie yourself from the earth and feel like you and this woman in front of you are the only people alive, walking blood-bound and human through the world of ghosts. So many have now worshipped them as gods, given them the finest lodging in their temples and brought them the finest woven linen fabrics and cowrie-shell necklaces, pounded gold anklets and jugs of honeyed wine, looked in their eyes for the salvation of rain and a good growing season, and so many others have bound then to the burning pyre when they could not bring the end to the hunger. They are always having to walk on. Quỳnh does not think they are gods. Anath does not know if gods know they are gods.

Anath only knows this: the music of the earth, and the woman in front of her, whose burning-spark soul she carries beneath her skin alongside her own. She knows she feels this woman in her heart, and that no number of her own deaths is too many to see her well and safe, and that when their skin trails against each other in the desert-cool night it is the fire of the world itself. That she is kind and soft of heart and always extends an open hand to the stranger and that she cries after every battle as they do their best to honor and say the burial rights of the dead so that the fallen can walk to the next world, even if it is different from their own, and yet she also knows that this woman is knife edge sharp, prefers to bring a tyrant down with a joke and a lampooning poem shouted from the palace roof than with a sword- though of course, she can very well do that as well. Anath knows that it does not matter if she is a god or not, for all that is divine rests in this woman, and she will stand next to her forever.

And like all amongst gods and men she has her rituals, the ones to honor her ancestors that she has carried with her from her first life and the other smaller daily ones, the neat arrangement of their shoes and clothes next to their bedrolls when they make camp. The precision of how neatly she plaits her hair in the mornings and secures it with twisted copper pins. And then the carelessness with how she undoes it in the night, running her hands through the soft braid-bends and letting it fall luxuriously around her shoulders. They are in a town that is one of the beginnings of cities at the edge of a great sea, a decisive turn in the braid of the great human story they are only beginning to fully see the threads of, becoming human again after a long trek through the desert dealing with roving bandits who tried to take the young men to be soldiers and even more worryingly, shattered the walls of cisterns and burned the fields. Anath stopped praying a generations past being the only one who could remember the names of her gods but she calls out to whatever may exist that she and Quỳnh will not return in years time to bury those claimed from the hunger that always comes knocking after war, even when the blood has been drunk thirstily by the earth.

“Shhhh,” Quỳnh says, running her fingers through her hair. “Your thoughts are extremely loud tonight. I need peace in my sleep.” She undoes a final braid and it unravels, and it strikes Anath how the moon on Quỳnh’s hair reminds her of the moon on the rippling night sea. “And I will kill you if I am disturbed.” “You wouldn’t want to clean the blood from your sheets.”

She shrugs. “Maybe so. I am fond of this shift.”

Anath too is fond of this shift, simple in the extreme and with a sharp cut across Quỳnh’s collarbone, leaving her muscle-strong, sun-goldened arms to the cool night air, but her tongue will not let her say anything, so she only nods. Only watches Quỳnh finishing combing out her hair and then brush in oil to keep it strong and safe from the desert wind, same as she does every night in which they are free to do as they please and have their own home to make. The breeze rustles the tips of her hair as she gets up from the place at the edge of the room she’s crouched upon and climbs the ladder back to the sleeping room beneath, and Anath follows her. Unrolls the sleeping roll, even though it is not quite cold enough for the blankets, not with the heat of Quỳnh beside her, burning like her own sun.

“I have not had peace in my own mind since that night at the cistern,” Quỳnh says suddenly, to the back of Anat’s neck, her breath curling warmly there, and she grabs her hand and wraps it tight around her own and brings it to her lips, lightly presses them to the knuckles. Quỳnh shifts behind her. They do not say anything more.

The morning sun comes too early, as it always does, and Quỳnh is still asleep when Anath wakes, curled like an ally cat. Anath climbs down to the narrow street below, barters for weak beer and rough barley bread and, treasure of treasures, fresh sweet figs, milky sap sticky on their stems. She comes home to Quynh and lays these treasures on the low wooden table and tears the bread apart as Quỳnh finally rouses, stretching luxuriously, still all ally cat even with her messy strands of hair sticking up around her face, crinkled nose forever angry at the basic passage of the sun. For all time. For forever.

“I thought you had abandoned me for the barley malter down the street,” Quỳnh teases, like she always does. “You say he has the sweetest brew.”

“I will not leave you until the end of all things,” Anath says, like she always does, and she has never meant words more.

“We must know peace for a while before we again see war,” Anath says says, and Quỳnh nods, knows that it is true, even though it is always a most difficult decision to make when their bodies bear no scars from the war and the soul is not a visible thing and there are still so many out there suffering. It is Quỳnh who makes her stop, makes them both breathe, take long slow days from their lives to breath and listen to the songs of the marketplace, and if it were herself alone, Anath would never stop. But in the deepest parts of herself she knows she must take care of this one beside her, for all their days.

Anath wipes the few spare crumbs from the table and Quỳnh pulls out her carved-wood comb, her most valuable possession apart from her bow and arrows and knives. She has an eye for these sorts of things, jewellry and cloth, that Anath does not. Quỳnh carefully separates her hair into strands and then plaits them, her movements sharp and precise with the experience of time. Pins her hair with the copper pins. Anath watches her easy grace.

Quỳnh finishes and is about to pack the comb away again when she says, suddenly, “Why do I not braid your hair?” She has not made such an offer before.

Without words Anath sits in front of her, crossing her legs against the floor. Quỳnh’s hands are practiced and do not hurt, but even so, it is hard for Anath to keep her breathing steady, keep her thoughts within her head as she feels the steady pull of her hair back from it’s usual mess into a neat plait working its way down her back. She does not like this business of hair, prone to cracking or tangling or catching fire, would cut all of it off if it would not attract undue notice. The cool pass of air at her scalp and neck once it has been done back is a relief.

“There.” Quỳnh’s hands are at the bottom of the braid, tying it back with a strip of cloth. No extra pins. The calm morning silence. And then suddenly the lightest brush of her lips against the top of Anath’s head, even though she must have to push herself up to be able to do that. Her breath hitches, pauses, and so does Anath’s. Live long enough and know change swells across the land slowly, but this- this is different. A sudden shock, like lightening forking from the heavens to the world of man.

“You take care of me, and I will take care of you. That is the only way we can continue upon the earth.”

Anath reaches out and links her fingers through Quynh’s, turns so that their foreheads are to one another. Places a hand at the back of Quỳnh’s neck, and suddenly the storm that has been massing thunder for one thousand years breaks free and their lips are to each other, both familiar and shockingly, bracingly new. The kiss is chaste and then it is very, very hungry, and it tastes of the malt-bitter of beer and the sweetness of figs.

#andy x quynh #andromache of scythia #quynh #the old guard #the old guard fic #my writings #prompt fills #wlw tag #also did u see what i did with the sappiness? did you?

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lulzyrobot · 5 years ago

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Pokemon Dynamorph AU Masterpost

Based on THIS POST

The short of this AU is that the climax of the Eternatus fight had an even more profound effect on the Galar region and its people. The excess energy made people fuse with their pokemon! Oh boy! So below the cut I’m going to outline all the ideas behind this AU thanks to everyone’s asks showing an increasing curiosity about all this! I’m used to writing original content, nothing based on an existing property so bare with me…

Events Leading Up to The Dynamorph Event

So for this AU, the events of the game leading up to the Eternatus conflict are the SAME except for some details.

Gloria/Victor and Hop never encounter Zacian or Zamazenta. The Rusty Sword and Shield were lost to time.

When Leon goes to confront Eternatus, he is joined by everyone up on the roof. The Gloria/ Victor, Hop, Bede, Marnie, the Gym Leaders (minus Opal because she’s back in Ballonlea enjoying retirement.)

This confrontation happens AFTER Gloria/ Victor beats Leon, for simplicity’s sake.

So when everyone confronts Eternatus, thanks to Rose’s eager impatience to do good for the Galar region, they are unable to stop it properly since Zacian and Zamazenta are nowhere to be found. Instead, the combined efforts of everyone force Eternatus to flee.

But not without releasing an overwhelming blast of Dynamax energy.

The blast rippled throughout a portion of Galar, and had a chain reaction with power spots and the dens of the Wild Area. When the dust settled, the pokemon everyone had out that they were using in the big fight were...gone. Not in their pokeball, just..gone. Naturally, people assume the worst but they have a lingering feeling that the Pokemon are still...here somehow. But they don’t know why. So when everyone’s calmed down, and clean up begins, they all go their separate ways.

About a day passes, and then it starts to happen. From the time of the blast and when the changes start to happen externally, everyone experiences some oddities superficially (better hearing, acute sensitivity to stuff etc.)

Leon was in his newly acquired office and the just obtained Battle Tower. He had the blind closed, sat in the darkened room thinking over everything that happened, and his loss of the Champion title. When the changes started happening, he nearly burned the office, leaving claw marks in his desk, the floor, and the walls. The noise attracted someone from the Battle Tower staff and he yelled at them in panic to call Sonia. His own phone started ringing. It was Hop.

Gloria/ Victor (I separate them cuz it's more of a ‘who you imagine in this role.’ Can only have one Champion) were being briefed on Champion duties and what that entails. It’s a boring meeting, but they excuse themself to go to the bathroom. In reality they duck away outside to just get a breather. They suddenly feel a sharp pain and start to change, probably biting into their arm to muffle any scream to prevent causing a scene.

Bede headed back to Ballonlea, distraught that Hatterine was nowhere to be found. He wanted to distract himself by continuing his gym leader training, but Opal sat him down for some tea to talk about grief and loss. She’s way older and definitely has experience in that field. What she doesn’t have experience in, is what to do when your protege starts growing traits of a pokemon…

Hop, after that whole ordeal, missing Dubwool, and having lost the gym challenge just had so many feelings to vent out, he wanted to just scream. So he heads deep into the Slumbering Weald to just scream out his frustrations. When he sits down after tiring himself out, his changes start happening. In pain, scared, and alone, he calls Leon.

Marnie went back to Spikemuth with Piers. Team Yell welcomed them with open arms and gave them the idea to have a tribute concert for the pokemon they believe they lost. Marnie declined, electing to stay at home and be alone for a while. She didn’t want to be around people right now. Then her changes started happening, and she uncontrollably let out a burst of electricity, causing an outage in Spikemuth.

Piers, meanwhile, was setting up for an impromptu concert. He dealt with his feelings by doing literally anything to distract him from them so yelling into a microphone for a couple hours seemed like a good idea. Just as he was about to test the mic, a huge power surge came from his place and shut down all of Spikemuth’s power. Concerned for his sister he runs off stage, taking alleys as a shortcut. In his adrenaline he doesn’t even realize his changes started until he tripped over his own new claws and writhes just outside their place.

Raihan, being in Hammerlocke, wastes no time in helping with the clean up. While at the highest point in the city, he and his gym trainers were hard at work. Until Raihan collapsed, trying to hold himself up with his broom. His trainers looked on in concern and horror as he began changing, even starting up a sandstorm in the process. As a result, one trainer almost gets pushed off the roof but, bearing through the pain, Raihan leaps in and grabs them in time.

Gordie and Melony head back to Circhester. On the way, they had talked a lot about their issues and gripes that had torn a rift in their family, in earnest. The assumed loss of their pokemon worked as good common ground to remind them about the importance of family. They were both at Melony’s home when it happened. The heat and cold put a completely new kind of barrier between the two.

Bea wanted to get her mind off everything that happened by training in the outskirts of Stow-on-Side. She pushed herself too far, and her pokemon urged her to stop. But she fought them off. At first with difficulty, but then as her changes happened, more easily. Her pokemon backed off and started looking for help.

Alister, figuring that his Gengar maybe wandered off on its own again, headed to the graveyard during the night. One of Gengar’s favourite spots. For a moment, Alister thought he heard Gengar’s chuckle and it’s cry but turned to see nothing. Something compelled him to look down at himself and he could see himself becoming translucent and a suspicious shade of purple. He had always had an affinity with ghosts but becoming one was something else entirely. Ensue panic attack.

Kabu returned home to quietly meditate and think rationally about everything that happened. In a trance-like state, he could feel Centiskorch right there next to him. He felt at peace. The smell of burning snapped him out of it, however when he realized he, as well as a good part of the room, was on fire. He quickly escaped, realizing the fire didn’t hurt him.

Nessa just wanted to be alone, so back at Hulberry, she walked along the docks, shrouded in early morning fog. Her changes started happening, but she really only felt itchy as the scales came in. Upon checking her phone, did she herself in the screen’s reflection and freak out.

Life moves on and Milo had a farm to tend to. His family urged him to take a break but he smiled back at them and assured them he was okay. He wasn’t. While working was when his changes happened. His whole family rushed to his aid. And again, through a smile, he insisted he was okay.

Oleana was working feverishly on getting money together for lawyers and bail money to get Rose out of his self-imposed jail sentence. She knew all he wanted was good for the region, but he was just too blind to see the potential damage he was causing. She wanted him to have a second chance. But her changes slowed her down.

Rose, in a cell, reflected on his actions. How rash he was that he didn’t see the big picture. He should’ve listened. When his changes happened in his cell, he was horrified. Not at what happened to him, but what was no doubt, happening to the others. And probably more. What had he done? He needed to fix his mistake.

The ones present at the event were not the only ones to change, however. This was happening all over the region, closer to power spots (which includes the towns, but the morphs aren’t all as drastic) and the wild area (trainers fused with wild pokemon and went hostile. This is covered in depth in another section). After one of the quickest trials, Rose had offered to the court that instead of a full prison sentence, he spent his entire resources and wealth into funding on solving this new, now coined ‘Dynamorph Crisis.’ They agreed and the Macro Cosmos got to work.

How the Dynamorph Actually Works

Bare with me because this is where I kind of bend canon and make assumptions about things for the sake of explaining how this AU even works. So. Eternatus caused all this by basically converting things into energy. On humans, it would just tear them apart. On pokemon it would just turn them into dynamax energy temporarily. The normal situation is that dynamaxing makes the pokemon grow and change form, yeah? Well for this AU, the pokemon, seeing that their trainers are potentially going to die, decide to fuse with them to ‘fill in the gaps.’ Saving them. At first, it appears like they were able to change into the parts missing, but after a while, the pokemon traits start showing, which is my excuse for why the actual changes were delayed.

The severity of the dynamorph is dependent on proximity to the blast/ powerspot. And just personal preference if you wanted to make your own trainersona dynamorphed (which I totally encourage! It’s fun and I like seeing what you all come up with!!).

Dynamorphed trainers gain the physical traits, special abilities, movesets and odd quirks that come with the pokemon they are dynamorphed with. (Bonding with Morpeko makes you hungry, bonding with a Xatu lets you see the future, etc) Though, since the humanity is still there, they are able to curb some of the more aggressive quirks with diligence.

If the pokemon bonded is not fully evolved, applying the correct evolutionary method will evolve and change the outward appearance of the dynamorphed trainer. Normal level up are accomplished by fighting, not by age.

Since being part pokemon, the trainer is a lot more resilient and could, if they REALLY wanted to, fight other morphed trainers. Trainers feel the type weakness and resistances. They would faint just like a pokemon fight. Potions and pokemon centres would help them recover. Though death is still something that can happen.

Trainers fused with food-like pokemon are not edible please don't eat them, there's a place where the food stops and the flesh starts and we don’t need to find out where that is ok??

Normal pokemon that are caught and trained will REFUSE to attack a dynamorphed trainer unless absolutely provoked. So you can’t really have a pokemon battle where a dynamoprhed trainer is beating up a pokemon or vice versa. That’s messed up.

Dynamorphed trainers cannot be caught in any kind of pokeballs. That’s also messed up.

They cannot breed to make a weird hybrid plz stop asking.

Dynamorphed Trainers can NOT be Dynamaxed. Too much energy, man.

Trainers CAN bond with more than one pokemon, but that's where complications start to occur. The more pokemon bonded to the trainer, the harder it is form them to hold on to their humanity.

1 Pokemon = Okay

2 Pokemon = A struggle to keep humanity, but it’s possible.

3+ Pokemon = This is not a person. It is a hostile beast.

There are no legendary pokemon/ ultra beasts dynamorphed. They’re all in other regions and wouldn’t be in the Galar region when it happened so there just wouldn’t be. But if ya’ll make one with one anyway, I won’t stop you but the legendary pokemon may be too strong for a trainer to handle.

If the pokemon’s nature is different than the trainer’s than it might affect their personality. The extent of this is varied.

**No two dynamorphs look the same! If you have two trainers bonded with like...a Pikachu for example. One might get yellow fur, ears, and a tail while the other only gets a tail and the cheeks. Go nuts.

If the pokemon dynamorphed with the trainer is the opposite gender, the result is whatever you want.

Speaking of complications, that brings us to the next part…

The Wild Area Trainers

During this whole event, I previously mentioned that the Wild Area was significantly affected. Those unfortunate enough to be out camping during the blast had the chance of 1 of 3 things happening:

They dynamorphed with one of their pokemon.

They dynamorphed with with more than one of their pokemon

They dynamorphed with one or more wild pokemon Examples found HERE.

In the case of being bonded to a wild pokemon, this takes a heavy toll on the trainer’s mind as its constantly fighting with a wild pokemon. This causes them to lose their minds and become hostile, just like a wild pokemon. Unfortunately a large number of “Wild Trainers” roam the Wild Area. Their previously caught pokemon usually try to flee or stick around to protect their trainer out of sheer devotion. As mentioned before, they cannot be caught with a pokeball. But the region is working on a program to deal with this. …

How the Galar Region is dealing with the Dynamorph Crisis

Professors Sonia and Magnolia are appointed the top researchers, being granted the resources of the Macro Cosmos thanks to Oleana and Rose, wanting to atone for his mistakes. However the government, doubting Rose’s competence, sends out their own officials to oversee and make decisions. (I have no idea how the government of this region works. Is there a parliament? Is the gym league the authority? I’ll say for this AU there is actually a system of government…).

They have labs and rehabilitation centres set up to be able to study and help help dynamorphed trainers cope and eventually go back home. They are not kept there against their will. Most, anyway. The main cast were quarantined in a lab/ facility for the early stages of the crisis so they could learn/ test their capabilities in a safe environment. Shenanigans ensue. Because of this, the crisis put a hold on the gym challenge league entirely.

At first, the authorities wanted to keep this under wraps in case their morphs were an isolated incident but quickly realized that was going to be impossible. Travel to and from the Galar region became incredibly restricted. Dynamorphed trainers are not allowed to leave the region, for everyone’s safety (don’t want to risk an outburst that could harm anyone :c ), but unchanged people were free to travel once they were confirmed as ‘human’ by a mandatory test.

The Wild Area became a huge problem, what with Wild Trainers running about. Defenses were set up just in case to prevent Wild Trainers from wandering into populated areas and causing havoc, though a few occurrences still happen, what with flying pokemon and all. Eventually, a special force was assembled that consisted of consenting dynamorphed trainers that were tasked with going into the Wild Area and subduing and retrieving Wild Trainers to bring them to a more secured location to help study them and to try and find a cure. And to confirm to families the fate of their missing family member(s). The attempt is to be as humane as possible.

The special force (Do I really wanna call it Dynaforce? I feel like I’m abusing the prefix if I do), consists of all the current gym leaders, Piers, Leon, Victor/ Gloria and a bunch of other trainers who signed up who are 18+. (you don't want to send kids out doing this kind of dangerous work, I know pokemon is all about children taming powerful animals but you gotta draw the line in the sand somewhere. Gym leaders are exempt because they why not. They insisted and already proved their strength to the region. It’s an AU based off a fuckin game/ anime.) This force has two jobs:

Go into the Wild Area to subdue Wild Trainers and bring them home

Protect the towns in case any wild trainers get in.

So what happened to Eternatus if it just escaped? Theories indicate it might be living in a massive den in the heart of the Wild Area, waiting to strike again. There are a lot more Wild Trainers near this area, so excursions here are difficult.

Is a cure eventually found? Honestly this is just an AU so that's up to you. My personal answer is no. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. //Bear Grylls voice

So….this is a lot. This is just some silly AU that inspired me to expand on it for fun since you guys showed a lot of interest! I’ll edit this as I get more asks about things I may have missed, but I will be going in and deleting a lot of previous asks so I can clean up my blog a bit. I had WANTED to keep a lot of this ‘secret’ cuz I wanted to draw stuff for it. I STILL WILL DRAW for it, but realistically I don’t have the time or energy ahah. Especially for an AU of a published franchise aha.

If you want to make a dynamorph trainersona, totally go for it! Just tag me when its done! I love seeing what people do!

#dynamorph au #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon au #dynamorph masterpost #long post

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dragons-bones · 4 years ago

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FFXIV: A Synthesis of Aether

#FebHyurary Day 17: Food + Day 18: Music

A/N: So I had too many ideas for yesterday, but knew for today touching on Synnove’s aether synesthesia would work well, and then I said, “DT YOU FOOL YOU CAN COMBINE BOTH DAYS FOR HER AETHER SYNESTHESIA.” And lo: a fic! Mostly dialogue, I haven’t done a dialogue heavy ficlet in a loooong time so I feel a bit rusty, but this was a fun exercise!

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1455 WARNINGS: None!

---

[Installing SCAEVAN SYSTEMICS operating software.]

[Installation successful, running update cycle.]

[Updates complete. Archive Node Unit 453 now online. Please specify primary user.]

“Synnove Greywolfe.”

[USER: SYNNOVE now registered. How may I assist you today?]

“Please stand by for audio recording.”

[Standing by.]

The node’s lights dimmed from bright grass green to soft seafoam as it partially powered down, its northern and southern hemispheres slowly rotating in opposite directions.

Synnove lowered her hand and glanced over at Rereha. “All right, you can babble now,” the Highlander said.

Rere took her hands off her mouth to tug at her braided pigtails and beamed at her. “Whatcha doing?” she said, in the sing-song tone of someone feeling exceptionally nosy, rocking back on her heels.

Synnove rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “Y’shtola’s working on a compilation of aetheric synesthesic perceptions as a downtime project,” she said. “She asked me if I was willing to contribute, to which I obviously said ‘yes.’ But because I’m not often able to spend much time in Revenant’s Toll that doesn’t devolve into Warrior of Light or Ironworks business—”

“—audio recordings you can send or give her are more convenient.”

“Careful, Rere, or other people will begin realizing you’re smarter than you pretend to be.”

The lalafell gasped. “Madam, you wound me!”

She received a satisfied smirk in reply as Synnove added, “And what better way to create an audio recording than with my new archive node?”

Rere pulled herself up onto Synnove’s desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet back and forth as she leaned back to rest on her hands. “Did you liberate it from the Ironworks?”

“I purchased this fair and square, I have a bill of sale from Jessie herself.”

“Nero’s OS?”

“The fact you know that term is vaguely frightening, but the man does have an unparalleled understanding of Allagan technology and if you tell him I said that, I will hang you by your toes from the edge of the Steps of Faith.”

Rere mimed locking her lips.

“Hand me that stack of paper, please.” Synnove pointed to Rere’s right. The lalafell snagged it and dutifully handed it over.

The arcanist shuffled through them, humming tunelessly as she did, before she came across the correct page. “All right,” she said, mostly to herself. “Start with Y’shtola’s list of baseline sensations today and go from there.” Louder now: “Begin recording.”

[Audio recording now live.]

Synnove automatically straightened her spine and rolled down her shoulders in the same way she did before she began a lecture for the fourth-year arcanist students. In a clear, strong voice: “Synnove Greywolfe recording for Y’shtola Rhul on the 18th day of the Second Umbral Moon, 11 Year of the Seventh Astral Era, on the subject of synesthetic perceptions of aether. I personally perceive aether, in addition to visual manifestations, as both taste and sound. Occasionally, one sensation will dominate the other, and certain sounds and tastes aren’t exclusive to one elemental type.

“For this recording, I’ll describe the overall generalities I associate with different elemental aether; variance is high depending on factors such as location or origin, in terms of ambient or crystallized aether, or in the case of spells, if they are being performed correctly or are altered in some capacity.”

“How to spot the catastrophic boom just before the boom becomes catastrophic and it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Synnove sighed. Rere giggled.

“Y’sthola, remind me to recalculate the angle needed to ensure Rere lands in Silvertear if thrown from the highest tower in the Toll.”

“Hey!”

“You’d be fine, Hydaelyn likes you best.”

Rere pouted, lower lip pushed out to the point of exaggeration, which meant she wasn’t actually offended.

“To get back on topic: fire. Fire aether most frequently tastes like hot spices, such as peppers; coffee; red meat, such as buffalo; bitter chocolate; cherries; wine. Sound tends to be uniformly brass instruments such as horns and trumpets; very occasionally it can sound like metal striking metal.

“Earth aether is auditorily simple and gustatorily complex. The sound of earth is always rhythmic and steady, if not outright drumming; the sensation of it echoing follows fairly often, too. Taste runs a huge gamut: savory or sweet seasonings, such as cumin or cinnamon; white meat, such as pork; most vegetables, particularly green or starchy vegetables; certain fruits such as apples and figs; bread; cheeses; stews; whiskeys.”

“I’d call most of those foods ‘homey.’”

Synnove frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a fair assessment,” she said after a moment. “Earth aether tends to ‘taste’ comforting.”

“Does that mean Tyr is the ultimate comfort food?”

“Does that mean you want to go flying out of my office window into the harbor?”

“I’m going to shut up now!”

“See how long that lasts,” Synnove said under her breath while her sister smiled beatifically. “Where was I… Ah, wind.”

The Highlander frowned. “Wind aether is another oddity, taste-wise. Mint tends to present quite frequently, along with sweet chocolate, white grapes, vanilla, white wine, arak, olives, and scallions. Thankfully when it seems to be a combination of flavors, it’s complimentary…” She shook her head. “Sound is similar to flutes, chimes, whistles. Bit stereotypical, honestly.

“Lightning…” Synnove paused, frowning again. “Sound tends to be similar to specific string instruments such as violas and cellos; deeper sounds. Low notes on a piano or harpsichord, sometimes simple humming or vibrations. Taste does not tend to be strong, but most frequently has manifested as berries and/or stonefruits. Alcohols such as gin, palm wine, ouzo, and brandy.”

“That is not the element I’d consider boozy,” Rere said idly. She had lain back on the desk and was staring up at the huge arched ceiling of the tower office, twiddling her thumbs.

Synnove shrugged without further comment, already looking at the next item on the list Krile had transcribed on Y’shtola’s behalf. “Water is what one would think would be boozy but I have legitimately never tasted ‘boozy’ water aether before. Tropical fruits dominate; in terms of savory, as horrifically stereotypical as it is, seafood. But almost never in a way that makes sense, I once found a water cluster in a bluefin tuna’s belly that tasted like Coerthan oyster confit.”

“I remember that, you made the weirdest face.”

“I still can’t find the words to describe just how fucked up that taste versus visual dichotomy was. In any event, water aether also sounds like string instruments, mostly harps, dulcimers, and brighter pianos. Also, a very specific drum… Rere, what’s that staccato-sounding drum the Flames have been using in their parades of late?”

The lalafell picked her head up. “Snare drum?”

“That’s the one. Timpanis on occasion, too. And finally…ice. Sound leans towards woodwind instruments like the clarinet and piccolo, as well as bells. Any bell. Taste…hmm. Slaw, fruits that freezes well, fruit juices, Thavnairian sweet tea—”

“That is not tea, that is an abomination.”

“—some melons, cucumbers, white rum, wintergreen.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never come across ice aether that tastes like the Bismarck’s root beer float.”

“They introduced it to the menu last year.”

“So?”

Synnove sighed that heavy, gusting sigh everyone who spent longer than thirty minutes with Rereha learned. “Y’shtola, I see a note here about Primordial Light and Dark, but I’ll do that in the next recording along with variations and discrepancies, as first, I need to beat my sister over the head with a grimoire—”

Rereha hopped down from the desk and ran for the office door, shouting BYE Y’SHTOLA I LOVE YOU BEST over her shoulder as she did.

“—and second, I’m hungry and now is a good time to break for lunch. Recording end.”

[End of recording. Is there anything else on which I may provide assistance?]

“No, that will be all for now—ah! Before I forget. Please create new nodal designation of own choice.”

[Clarification requested.]

“Pick a name for yourself.”

[…]

[Accessing imperial Allagan databases for repository of birth certificates. Scanning records.]

[Archive Node Unit 453 rename complete. Archive Node Unit 453 is now Kleio.]

Synnove smiled, pleased. “It’s nice to meet you, Kleio.”

[…Thank you. Database scans are currently inconclusive as relates to instruments in modern usage versus those of Allag. What samples are available to provide edification?]

The Highlander cocked her head, staring at the silver-and-green node for a few long moments, before another smile, this one slow and delighted, crossed her features. “I have a few orchestrion rolls that include solos and chamber music that you could listen to while I have lunch, and I can provide lists of which instruments are used in each piece.”

[That would be satisfactory.]

“Perfect! Let’s get you set up…”

#febhyurary #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: rereha reha #oc: kleio the archive node #dt's writing

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