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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness.

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in.

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t.

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess?

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good.

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that.

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time.

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious.

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes.

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety?

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore.

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time.

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives.

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable.

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly.

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion.

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone.

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in.

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair.

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least.

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does.

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries.

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you.

He needs this.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere akaashi keiji #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #tw blood #tw violence #tw murder #slasher-ish vibes #tw dub con #just a little #not super proof read because it's 3:30 in the morning

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blue-mood-blue · 4 years ago

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Juno’s vision fizzes out right around where the man’s face should be.

He rubs his eye. The interference doesn’t go anywhere, and he sighs. He’s already tired - always is, lately - but this, at least, is not on him. Will the wonders of modern technology never end, he thinks, and there’s a ping at the back of his head of what is probably admonishment. I’m right, he thinks back, stubborn.

The man sits down at his table. Juno leans back; the shadow already obscures his features, but something about not seeing the expression on the face of his unexpected guest makes Juno want to sink farther into the darkness. He doesn’t like being looked at - call it paranoia, call it being shy, whatever. When you have one person in the world - another ping at the back of his head - one and a half people in the world, being generous, most people’s attention loses its appeal.

Juno waits. He doesn’t talk much, anymore. His voice is... uniquely recognizable.

The man is probably smiling; his tone sounds teasing, and that’s about all Juno can glean from the unnaturally stilted sound. Audio distortion, too - whoever this is, the chip in Juno’s neck is throwing a blanket over Juno’s head in an outdated and unneeded attempt at protection. He would get angry, or suspicious, or march over to his partner in crime with a scalpel and demand it out of him, damn the consequences... but he knows the feeling of that shadow in his head, now. The chip doesn’t know why this is happening.

“Do I have the good fortune of speaking to one of the pair people are calling ‘the new Buddy and Vespa’?” The man is tall and skinny, and folds himself into the seat across from Juno like it was left out for him. Juno feels one of his fists clench and hopes the scowl isn’t clear on his face, visible or otherwise.

He’d like to correct the man; he’s not trying to be anyone else. Juno doesn’t speak. His voice would be a dead giveaway.

“Not much for conversation, hm? That’s fine. We don’t have much to talk about.” The man leans closer. Juno guesses that the look directed at him now is one of quiet intimidation; he can’t say, since the features are blurring out like static on an ancient television screen. “You’re here for the Maxine Rutherford job. I’m here to tell you to drop it.”

Juno tenses, and the thief - because that’s what he must be, if he’s here to talk another thief out of a job - must pick up on it, because he chuckles. “It’s a big ask, I’m aware. There’s a pretty penny to be had - that experimental technology is worth an incredible amount of money on its own, and that’s not even touching what might be gained from selling her out to a competitor.” There’s something in the way the thief is sitting, the set of his shoulders - or maybe it’s just the chip in Juno’s neck, setting off urgent warning signals. This is a threat. “But I need you to understand something. Maxine Rutherford is mine. And you do not want to be in my way when I get to her.”

Juno pushes the panic button in his head, the one that will bring Jet running. And he’ll need to run, because Juno’s about to do something incredibly stupid.

“Not if I get to her first,” Juno says in two voices. The thief is still, and if he’s afraid, Juno doesn’t blame him. He remembers the way he felt, the first time he heard the Theia layered under his words.

~~~

The detour wasn’t part of Buddy Aurinko’s plan. Even calling it “on the way” would have been generous; the Carte Blanche should have passed it like it had a hundred other space stations, and it would have. It would have, except for the seven names Rita had been listening for ever since she left Hyperion.

“It doesn’t hafta mean anything,” she’d told Juno, holding her tablet to her chest and looking nervous. He remembers thinking it wasn’t her usual kind of nervous, with fretful energy and too much talking - she’d been holding onto the tablet like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. “Maybe it’s not even the same person, but. But I was doin’ some listening, you know, and a name came up, and.” Juno remembers thinking she looked almost sick, saying it out loud. “One of those names. And the soul.”

Juno doesn’t know what he thought he could do about it. He’d wanted to try, and when he and Rita went to Buddy, when he’d forced the bones of what happened in Hyperion from his throat and onto the kitchen table during a family meeting... they’d all wanted to try. Maybe that had been his mistake, Juno considers. He could have been quiet. He could have let it go.

It started with an infiltration. The Dogstar Space Station was small, relatively, but it was still the size of two major cities; finding Maxine Rutherford in the crowd would take some looking, with or without Rita’s ‘listening.’ Juno and Jet would go first, bumbling tourists who might, if they were lucky, stumble across a newly-acquired lab space. The idea was to uncover everything they could - location, security systems, layout, plans - and then get back to the ship to decide a next step. Juno packed for a short surface stay. He pulled the last Theia soul from where he’d stowed away in the back of a drawer and, after a long moment and with no clear reason, put it in his pocket. He squeezed Rita and whispered in her ear that he’d be okay when she had a hard time letting go. He kissed Nureyev and promised to call. He walked away and he didn’t look back.

Twenty-four hours later, the siege started.

That’s what the reporters on the hotel’s screen called it, while Juno and Jet sat on the edge of the couch and watched everything change. Some kind of hostile takeover, a grab for power or property or... something. The reporters didn’t know, and if the way they looked off-camera during their reports was any hint, there wouldn’t be time to find out.

If there are gaps in his memory after that, Juno thinks it can only be that he doesn’t want to remember. There’s him, running behind Jet through streets that are eerily quiet and terrifyingly loud by turns. Hiding, and running, and hiding - the thought that it’s a good goddamn chance Jet seems to know where he’s going because Juno is already lost, the shouting of soldiers behind them, the emblem on a ship Juno spends just a little too long looking at because something is wrong. The two of them finding a back entrance to the docks, using the chaos to cover them. The... wreck.

Juno will never forget the wreck.

They must have hit the docks first, is his first thought. It’s the last semblance of reason over the high, keening sound that’s enveloping the rest of his brain - they must have hit the docks first so no one could get out, they must have destroyed every waiting ship to keep the people of the Dogstar Space Station right where they were, because there is nothing but wreckage and broken parts.

Juno might have screamed. It might have been Jet. It might have been someone else, any voice out of hundreds speaking for all of them: loss, despair, desperation. It didn’t matter; the damage was done, and they were alone.

Jet held his hand. Weeks, months - however long they survived on the Dogstar after that, it was with Jet holding his hand and Juno clinging back. There were names they didn’t say for a long, long time but they held onto each other while the soldiers-who-weren’t-soldiers rounded up stragglers and led them to the government facilities that didn’t belong to any government Juno had ever heard of. They were lucky enough to have each other, but it didn’t feel like luck; it felt like borrowed time.

(He said he would call, and he did. He called, once, and he didn’t know what he expected - but he got no answer, and if he dropped his communicator the next time they ran, well, who was going to miss him?)

“I get it, if you hate me,” Juno said into the dark of the shelter they’d found, a hidden nook between big, steel beams of a bridge. “For her. For all of them.”

“I do not hate you, Juno.”

He didn’t know if that felt better or worse. “You should. You’re the only one left to feel anything about it, and they deserve -” He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to; Jet knew already.

A relapse, Juno will call it later. Healing is not linear, not when the wounds are torn back open every other day or so, and these things happen. Sometimes there’s a stumbling block on the way to better. And Jet will look at him, ask him if he’s any closer now, and Juno will tell him “a day closer than yesterday.” Jet will nod, because that’s all Jet ever asks of him.

Survival became an exhausting thing. When Juno knew the streets of a couple of districts of Dogstar like the back of his hand, he felt like a rat in a maze, nudged back and forth along pre-determined paths by uniformed sentries and reinforced vehicles. Jet had the kind of patience a person worked for, and Juno could see him clinging to the shreds of it; just shreds, because the hope of patching it back into a serene whole was less likely with every hole the two of them were flushed out of. It had always been only a matter of time before they stood outside of the lab doors and asked each other if they were going to do what they came here for.

Maxine Rutherford was on Dogstar. Maxine had been on Dogstar a long time, plenty long enough to set down roots for a research facility and collect a space station’s worth of subjects by force. If it looked like anything else from the outside, well, that was just a pretty face to convince everyone else that it wasn’t their problem and it wasn’t worth getting involved. The first news reports were of a siege, and that was the last outgoing message anyone received; by the time the theory fell apart, communication outside was an impossibility.

The reality was that Dogstar was a testing ground. Maxine had the Theia, and she had plans.

Juno and Jet became her personal annoyance. And it felt good, for a while; Juno felt alive, Jet laughed sometimes, and at last there was a purpose in being the ones left behind beyond dumb luck and timing. It felt good like another hit felt good, like dodging blaster fire close enough to feel the heat of it on your face felt good, and they would take what they could fucking get. There wasn’t anything else.

(They needed something, in that hell of a prison they were trapped in, with no guarantee that the people they saw were people the way they used to be. The reports they stole were horrifying and complex, and Juno was as frustrated as he was relieved he couldn’t parse the science of it. Bioengineering, maybe, or technology taught to behave like biology - a machine fed raw materials that grew them into circuitry, twisting and growing like roots into a person, along muscles and bones and into the brain and good luck, Hanataba, coming up with instructions to rid a person of an infestation that deep. Juno put down the reports. He pulled out his own Theia, considered crushing it under his foot - looked at the way Jet looked at it and knew he would understand if Juno gave in to that little violence - and then put it away. He talked about close escapes and running guards, and Jet laughed, and who cared if they were running along a cliff’s edge because they needed something.)

A relapse, Juno will call it later. An instinct he thought he’d put away, dragged back out of him into daylight. In hindsight, he could even see it coming.

Maxine had gotten sick of them, clearly; her guards were better armed every time Juno and Jet went in, and the escapes were getting closer. The thought of can we afford to do this anymore had been pushed back by well, what else are we going to do and it was a compelling argument, especially to a couple of people carrying their grief along with them everywhere.

It only took a second. Out of the corner of his eye, Juno saw it: one of the guards unclipping something from his belt. There was just enough time to think he wouldn’t, he’s too close, he’d get caught in the blast, just enough time to see the look in his eye and think if he has the Theia and he thinks this is for the greater good, he would. Just enough time to push Jet forward and press the button for the door.

Jet has to tell him what happened next, and he does, eventually - by stops and starts, in pieces, and it’s the way he tells the story that tells Juno how much it hurt. When Jet opened the door, Juno was... broken. He may have been dead already; Jet didn’t stop to check. He scooped him up like a doll and carried him away, deeper into the lab until he found a room with a reclining chair and a looming machine hanging over it.

Here, he always pauses. “I could not be alone, Juno,” he explains. “I could not lose you too, after everyone else. I could not.”

There were instructions. He needed a Theia and he had one, fished out of Juno’s pocket. He didn’t know if he was making the right decision, so he held his emotions at arms’ length, leaned into his work with the quiet, steady determination required of him in a dusty clinic hidden beneath Mars’ surface, and he knit Juno back together again with filaments of woven metal.

(So much later that it feels like a different life, Juno gets to see it. The scanner picks up the roots that wrap around him, concentrated on the back of his neck at the base of his skull. They’re in his muscles, his bones, around his brain. Tiny, delicate, firm, and Juno can trace the fault lines that would have killed him in their paths.)

Juno didn’t dream, he tells Jet later. When he woke up there was just a heaviness in his mind that he didn’t understand yet, the lab, and Jet standing next to him. When Jet looked down on him, he looked so angry that Juno was sure he was going to scream until he was hoarse - but Jet pulled him close and held him like he was something breakable.

“Never again,” he whispered, and he sounded so pained that Juno was already nodding into his shoulder, agreeing to whatever he said. “You will never do that again. You will not make that choice, for me or anyone else.”

They stayed away from the labs. Jet held his hand all the time while Juno remembered and relearned how to walk, how to move his body, how to deal with the heaviness of his mind. Every time he spoke, Jet squeezed his hand harder... and eventually, Juno just spoke less. He could hear it talking from his mouth. If he had more energy, that would have terrified him. But Juno had other things to be afraid of.

There was something else in his head. It didn’t speak; it could have, maybe - it had the last time it had been there, supplying him with information and rote instructions and orders. The Theia didn’t use words anymore, by choice or by limitation, and it’s presence was still inescapable.

Juno didn’t talk about it at first, the ideas and images that came from nowhere. They were tentative and reserved, and it was so unlike what he was used to that he was half-convinced it was all him and the disjointed feeling was just... the result of shoddily-repaired brain damage. That was a thought awful enough that it didn’t bear repeating to Jet, who already looked at Juno in the silence sometimes like he was asking himself how much he’d broken by trying to fix him. Juno shoved the whispers back into the shadows, and they went willingly; he never met resistance, and that convinced him he was right. His head didn’t work the way it used to, but nothing did; it was another adjustment while they picked their way over the ruined station.

And then he answered a question Jet hadn’t asked.

Juno stormed into his own mind. Jet saw the glaze of his eye, took him by the shoulders and called his name to coax him back out, but Juno was flooded by frantic, overlapping images of radio towers and the repair of something he didn’t know was still floating in his blood. For communication, the Theia said without words. For the kind of communication the chip knew better than spoken language - direct transmission.

Direct transmission.

It was the beginning of an idea. It was the only thing stopping Juno from doing something they’d all regret, ripping the chip back out and to hell with it.

Juno spent a lot of time in his own head after that. He poked, he prodded, he looked for traps. The Theia didn’t have anything to offer - the Theia didn’t have anything to hide. He was given the impression of a long, dark quiet, a nothing; even disconnected and not operating, something in the chip had... stayed awake. Being where it was now felt like a second chance.

There are a lot of other people I’d rather give second chances to, Juno snapped out bitterly, silently. The chip already knew. Hard to keep secrets in his own head.

Juno pushed farther. He pushed out, and sometimes Jet turned to look at him, a strange expression on his face. Sometimes, a radio hissed and whined with feedback, or a screen popped and shuddered, or he and Jet stopped walking when Juno’s view was suddenly too high. Whatever Juno’s head was doing, it didn’t work like it had before - where that invasion used to operate something like a two-way knife, now it was a battering ram, ungraceful and swinging wildly. The repair the machine and the chip had attempted in tandem was a miserable patch job at best, dangerous at worst, and Juno pushed anyway. Jet asked him about it once, and Juno let him into his head instead of answering, invited him right in to see the mess of complicated feelings and uncertainty. Jet reached for his hand.

Every day, Juno found something new. It was the worst kind of game, running up against walls: a new rat maze that he was running mostly alone, but never really alone because he was never really alone anymore. He stuttered like anything over Rita’s name, out loud and to himself. The chip caught stray transmissions and placed them right in Juno’s head, a disorienting mix of updates from the lab and tentative calls from survivors. Some memories took a long time to recall, and some weren’t his. And he ached, he ached with every step while his body healed around him.

They walked. They hid. They planned. And when they reached the dock’s communication hub, Juno leaned his forehead against a transmission tower, exhausted all the way through, and gave everything to one last attempt.

(“Symbiosis,” he says later, so much later in a different life and a different world, the kind of life that has room for beds and money for transport to other places; the kind of life that calls them thieves instead of survivors. Jet looks over at him with a raised eyebrow; if that word in two voices upsets him, he’s good at not showing it - but Juno knows better. He knows. “That’s the word for it.”

“The word for what?”

“For me. For... us.” Juno looks up at the ceiling. Jet knows which ‘us’ Juno means - he knows. “We’d be dead without each other. I get held together and it gets to exist. Symbiotes.”

Jet hums. “You are more than a chip’s second chance to be, Juno.”

“But I’m that too,” Juno says in two voices. “I’m always that, too.”)

They get away from Dogstar. Of course they do; if Dogstar and its destruction couldn’t kill them, if a tossed bomb and losing absolutely everyone and everything couldn’t finish them off, maybe they just weren’t meant for death. One call makes it through the communication barrier with enough memorized confidential information to send several planetary governments scrambling into action and Juno sleeps for a week, but no one besides two and maybe a half people know the connection. Jet carries Juno onto one of the ships sent in to clean up the mess and hides them in a distant corner; they don’t speak, and eventually concerned authority figures leave them alone. When they land somewhere - anywhere - else, Jet leads them away from the ship.

It feels like a rebirth. It feels like a second chance that Juno isn’t sure he deserves, but won’t waste - if not for his sake, for theirs. For Jet’s.

Maxine Rutherford gets away, too. She’s long gone by the time the authorities descend, no doubt trying to sink her roots into some new place, and when Juno picks up that transmission from a closed, secure line and shares it with Jet, there’s no discussion. They’ll do this, one more time, for the right reasons. After that? After that is anyone’s guess.

Jet and Juno waste no time; the flurry of criminal activity in their wake inspires rumors and nicknames, and when Juno thinks to ask Jet if that bothers him, Jet chuckles.

“The legend lives on,” he says. “I think they would be pleased.”

~~~

“I’m guessing that means you poached our contact,” Juno mutters. He’s annoyed enough about the waste of his time that he has no reservations about subjecting his guest to more of his voice - and the thief is unnaturally still, which is satisfying and offensive at the same time. “What, did the people who told you the nickname not warn you about the voice?”

“Let me see your face.”

The flatness of his tone is obvious, even with the audio distortion. Juno frowns; he can’t picture what kind of expression goes along with a tone like that, and it makes him uneasy. “...why?”

“Please.” He hasn’t moved an inch. Juno would wonder if he was still breathing except that he keeps talking. “I just need to... please.”

Not without seeing his first, Juno thinks. He doesn’t have to ask the chip to know that it’s working on it, but it’s the kind of work that’s going to take months of concentrated effort - reclaiming Rita’s name taught him that, and that’s still not a sure thing.

Jet, stop where you are.

I am almost there.

That’s great, big guy, but I need your eyes for a second and if we do that while you’re moving, you’re gonna run into something.

Juno can feel the skepticism; no lying to him in his own head. If you say so, he says anyway. What do you need?

Somebody stole our meeting and I need to see his face - the distortion on this guy is something else. Can you take a look and tell me what you see?

Jet doesn’t answer in words; he doesn’t need to. He looks, and the inside of Juno’s head is quiet for a long time. Juno, he thinks, and there’s a strange echo that usually only comes from him -

“Juno?”

Juno, it’s -

But Juno doesn’t need to be told. He knows. There’s no evidence for him to point to, but he knows the person who would say his name like that, can hear what it would sound like in the right voice in his memory.

Juno leans forward. “Nureyev?”

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shadowmaat · 4 years ago

Text

Everyone loves AUs where Obi-Wan or Anakin never became a Jedi. but I don’t think I’ve seen any fics where other Jedi wound up on a different path and I feel like that would be a lot of fun to explore.

Kit Fisto, for instance. Everyone’s favorite smiling amphibiman. What if he wound up being a senator, instead? Say the previous senator from Glee Anselm was murdered had an accident and Kit is the aide to his replacement.

The thing is, both Kit and the new senator are aware that the reason she was chosen is due to some kind of manipulation (they’re both Force sensitive, though their records don’t show it). They suspect the Chancellor played a part and are trying to figure out why. Suuli’s role is to seem wide-eyed and eager-to-please. Kit’s role is ostensibly that of the older, guiding hand, but he gives off such himbo energy that people dismiss him as nothing more than eye candy. Bets are divided between him being a boyfriend or him being the disgraced son of an official in the Anselmi government sent to Coruscant to keep him out of the way.

During his very thorough “I don’t know what I’m doing” explorations of the Senate building, Kit crosses paths with Commander Fox. Kit’s in the aqueducts (if the Temple can have waterways so can the Senate) and decides to ask Fox for “directions,” mostly to see what he does. He can tell a lot about someone based on whether they give him accurate directions or if they send him on a wild goose chase.

Fox surprises him. First by knowing a form of signing (which makes things much easier when one of you is underwater) and second by actually leading him where he asked to go rather than just telling him. Kit takes an interest in the clone commander and starts trying to feel out if Fox can be trusted with more sensitive information about what he and Suuli are up to in the Senate. He also gets a lot of up front experience with seeing how Fox, the Guard, and the clones in general get treated and doesn’t like it one bit.

Fox, meanwhile, is at his wit’s end with this dumbass aide who swims naked through the aqueducts and always seems to be getting lost and he’s sure Fisto is doing it just to make his life difficult (not entirely wrong). Somewhere along the way, though, he realizes there’s more to Kit (and his senator) than he realized and works to help him uncover a level of corruption far worse than anything Kit could possibly have imagined.

Palps, despite his many many machinations, doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. He knew there was something weird about the Anselmi senator’s aide (and the senator herself) but had figured it was more local Anselmi politics than someone pulling apart his web. And Fox! How could a clone betray him?? Easy enough, from Fox’s POV. He’s loyal to the office of the Chancellor, not to the man currently sitting on the throne.

Things might get messy at the end, but the galaxy will be a little less clouded than it was, and Fox and Kit form a solid friendship and maybe something more.

The rest of the Senate learns you don’t fuck around with Glee Anselm or you won’t like what you find out.

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Note

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that.” 3zun fic? Where things work out between them, somehow, and yet JGY still kills JGS the same way and defends that choice to LXC and NMJ (Or JZX, if he's alive)? Can go full on JGS was stealing his women's energy, hence their sickness/deaths!

warning for mentions of death, rape and murder. Yay, it’s a happy one :D

Nie Mingjue storms into the cell, only for Jin Guangyao to look up and smile at him, as if he were welcoming him into his quarters, rather than locked up and in chains. He smiles just as peacefully to Lan Xichen when he follows their lover inside, pretending not to notice the other man's obvious distress.

"I hope Da-ge and Er-ge will forgive me if I do not stand and bow to them," Jin Guangyao calmly says, rattling his chains.

Nie Mingjue stares at him, taken aback.

Even though they have reached a tentative peace between them, and Jin Guangyao often makes efforts to be more open with them than he is with anyone else, he still is the same person he always was. When he gets in trouble, he makes himself pathetic before them, almost on instinct. Sometimes it annoys Nie Mingjue, but other times it feels almost like a joke between them, as long as Jin Guangyao has that twinkle in his eye to show he knows he won't be taken seriously.

To see him this calm and detached is unsettling. Nie Mingjue can only wonder if it has something to do with that large bruise on the side of his head. Going by the colour it is at least a day old. No cultivator of Jin Guangyao's level should have let this last this long.

"Ah, this," Jin Guangyao notes, feeling their gaze. "Zixun was not very happy and let it be known. I am sorry to present myself before you in such a state, but my powers have been sealed, and I could not do anything about it. Please, just avoid looking at it."

That makes Nie Mingjue frown. If Jin Zixun is behind one bruise, he's ready to bet there are more, hidden under Jin Guangyao’s clothes. He forces his mind to drift away from the worry he feels, because the real problem today is…

"Did you do it?" Lan Xichen asks, something wavering in his usually calm voice.

Jin Guangyao placidly looks up at him.

"What do you think, Er-ge?"

Lan Xichen trades a glance with Nie Mingjue.

What they think is that Jin Zixun, who uncovered the plot against his late uncle, is not the most reliable man in the world, and holds a grudge against Jin Guangyao since that near fiasco with Wei Wuxian at Jin Ling's hundredth day party.

They think also that he did bring convincing evidence. The most critical one is the testimony of a woman who took part in the murder of Jin Guangshan. She says she did not see the man who paid for her services, but she would recognise his voice. She also did see Xue Yang, and they all know the little creep respects no one except Jin Guangyao.

They think that Jin Zixuan is desperately trying to prove his half brother's innocence, but finding it difficult.

They think that Jin Guangyao has killed his superiors before.

They think he promised he wouldn't again, and they both made the choice to trust him.

And Nie Mingjue thinks, also, that although they've disagreed on means and motives, Jin Guangyao never strikes unprovoked, which he says out loud.

The tenderness in Jin Guangyao’s eyes as he hears this is nearly unbearable.

“Da-ge, are you really asking for my side of the story?” he asks in disbelief.

It might be sincere. It might be feigned. Nie Mingjue never knows with him, just as he suspects Jin Guangyao never knows what to expect from him.

“We know your father was not… the kindest of men,” Lan Xichen says gently, kneeling down next to Jin Guangyao to send some spiritual energy into him and help him heal. Jin Guangyao sighs in relief, but keeps his eyes on Nie Mingjue even as Lan Xichen continues speaking. “You have let us know about some of the things he’s done, A-Yao, and I’ve long suspected there’s more you never told us. If he did anything to deserve such an end…”

“Of course he deserved it,” Jin Guangyao cuts him, still looking at Nie Mingjue. “You both know it as well as I do. He deserved it whether I had a hand in it or not. He was a selfish man. He only joined the Sunshot Campaign because he hoped to become what Wen Ruohan had been. He only took me in because his true son, forcefully kept from the heat of the action, failed to garner glory for Lanling Jin. And I won't get into the details of everything that happened with Wei Wuxian."

"But none of these things are why you killed him," Nie Mingjue retorts, suddenly convinced that Jik Guangyao really did it.

Once, it would have filled him with rage to realise this. Back when he first understood what sort of a person his efficient and soft spoken friend was, when he saw Jin Guangyao murder his own captain… But since then, Nie Mingjue has learned to forgive, at least somewhat. Because when Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue’s men in Nightless City, he took care to only murder those who once derided him for his background, to lightly wound the ones who never mocked him.

It was still wrong, those were still good men, but Nie Mingjue, who had been burning for years with his hatred of the Wens, understood that better than he ought to have done.

So there is no anger as Nie Mingjue too kneels down next to their lover. Only disappointment. In himself, for wanting to excuse this most awful crime. In Jin Guangyao, for not coming to them this time, when he thought something was wrong. They had listened about Wei Wuxian, they would have listened about this too.

"Some brothels offer specialised services," Jin Guangyao says, the smile on his face shifting from loving to cold and polite, the way it used to be around his father. "I suppose this doesn't surprise you. Someone with money can always get what they want in this world."

Both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen nod uncomfortably.

"Some of those services offered are of a rather different nature," Jin Guangyao goes on, his eyes growing distant. "They are difficult to perform, cannot be repeated, and cost an obscene amount of money… not to speak of the moral cost. It takes a certain kind of man to purchase such services. Believe it or not, even Xue Yang found it distasteful. For all the wrong reasons, but still, I think Da-ge and Er-ge will agree that it takes a lot to shock someone like Xue Yang."

Lan Xichen takes their lover's hand, trying to comfort him, but Nie Mingjue freezes. He is suddenly reminded of certain rumours, gossip so foul that it had to be exaggerated. He's always refused to pay it any mind, knowing well there were horror stories about him as well, as there always are against powerful men.

He can't escape it now.

“It’s not hard to find human cauldrons, if you know how to look for them,” Jin Guangyao states in a voice devoid of any emotion, staring somewhere in the distance. “And some men will always look for an easy way to improve their cultivation, even if it means raping and killing a girl for it. There are addresses, and certain euphemisms. These days, you would ask to see a Wen girl. I’ve learned that a few years ago, people called them educated women.”

Nie Mingjue only frowns at that comment, but next to him Lan Xichen gasps in horror, squeezing Jin Guangayo’s hand.

“Your mother…”

Jin Guangyao blinks a few times, and forces himself to look at Lan Xichen. It appears to take him great effort. Nie Mingjue wonders if it is the topic that causes this, or if the blow to his head caused more damage than is visible.

“No, don’t worry. She was just actually educated. It didn’t mean the same thing in Yunping as it did in Lanling, but my father found her attractive enough for his other purposes, I suppose.” Jin Guangyao looks away again, his face growing harder. “Others were not as lucky. It is all too easy to get what you want, with enough money.”

“You should have told us,” Nie Mingjue says. “If you had come to us with proof…”

“My father is not so stupid that he would have left proof,” Jin Guangyao hisses between clenched teeth, still staring at the wall. “Even he would have had trouble justifying doing such a thing to augment his power. I only found out because I went to fetch him with Xue Yang at a brothel one day, and heard him discussing in detail his next… purchase. Xue Yang happened to be knowledgeable about certain euphemisms we were hearing, and thought it entertaining to explain to me. After this I started looking. It’s funny what you find, when you look for it. It wasn’t proof enough to openly attack him, not with my background. But it was enough to be sure. And then…”

Jin Guangyao chuckles darkly, his eyes finally meeting Nie Mingjue’s.

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that,” he says with unnerving calm. “Xue Yang was on board because he thinks that sort of thing is cheating. Torturing the dead and cutting them from their reincarnation doesn’t phase him, but he knows it could have been him, if he’d been born a girl. And so we did what had to be done. My father died the way he lived.”

He pauses a moment, taking in the expression on his lovers’ faces, from Lan Xichen’s horror at that confession to Nie Mingjue’s anger that once again, this took clever man made all the wrong choices.

“Nobody else would have dared to stand against him,” Jin Guangyao adds, smiling feverishly, his gaze on Nie Mingjue. “But I’ve always been one to do what others wouldn’t. Someone has to get their hands dirty, Da-ge. I’ve never minded doing it when my turn came. I wonder if you will, now that you know the truth? You’ve always been such a champion of justice, always telling others to be righteous. Let’s see what choice you make, now that justice isn’t such an easy thing to decide.”

#jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #3zun #mdzs #not super happy with this one #I think jgy is probably pretty ooc here oops?#jau writes #today sucks I just needed to get something done #Anonymous

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apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

Text

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

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alphasmoonlit-selfships · 3 years ago

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🍃 🐚 ⭐️

Hello mystery anon! Thank you so much for the ask! I forgot as I was writing that that were asks meant to be answered by me for my F/o, but considering my recent f/o takeover by my dearest Atsushi, he answered a few of the asks too! UwU;

"It is a shared blog between us, Darling," Atsushi commented lightly, resting his chin a top the petite brunette, "I'm sure they won't mind at all!" 🥰

"Well let's just jump right into it, shall we?"

🍃: Do you live together? If not, would you like to? How would you or how do you decorate?

Atsushi: We do live together actually! You can know more about that here in this ask!

Though the second question is new to answer; it was a slow and gradual process to decorate our place after it was entirely cleaned and ready to inhabit. We started with basic things we could afford, the Agency definitely helping us to get a few other things to fill in the space and make it feel more homey. Which we were grateful towards nonetheless!

Even so, I think the decorator between us is Dany, she usually suggests colors and what might fit well with the setting of a certain room in our condo. As well as how the layout should be. Of course, I pitch in my own suggestions that she usually considers and takes full validation of 😄 it definitely helps her figure things out as she often hits a dead end and is left a bit irked when she runs out of ideas 👀

We often buy things at random that might make the condo more homey, be it buying some items for the living room or dining, some plants to make the place more lively, either inside or on the balcony space, or paintings and frames. Which might I add, we have hung some pieces we worked on together!

It was some quality time building when we painted and made a messy, yet nice piece done! I may not be much of an artist, but Dany does know how to boost someone’s confidence when it comes to the subject U///w///U she is very sweet, comforting and patient.

But yeah! We are a bit of a mix of traditional, minimalist, and modern through the home!

🐚: Which one of you brings the most physical or emotional energy to the relationship? Are there ever times where it’s overwhelming to the other, or are you pretty evenly matched?

Atsushi: I think Dany and I have shared a decent amount of offering each other that physical and emotional and mental energy to our relationship. It varies a lot with what we experience individually, but overall it is evenly match. We have a deep understanding of one another and share a few similarities when it comes to how we think and want to act on our emotions and affections.

I think Dany gives more of the physical energy as she isn’t one to always put things into words as it sounds in her mind. Her affection is warm, sweet, comforting, it’s soothing and brings out any tension I feel personally after a bad day. She often sings and hums to offer a bit of vocal response, or asks questions for me that give me the door to open if I want to talk about something. She doesn't press instantly and allows space for me to figure out what I would like to say.

I do worry that sometimes I may be a bit overwhelming for her; she is rather emphatic and has the tendency to take other’s emotions that often do drain her later on. It..often leads her to be apathetic when she feels her own bad days.

Which leads to the opposite of me, she is more withdrawn from speaking about her struggles and worries. Always giving a lot of herself to me or others that she forgets about herself. That’s where I have slowly began to draw her out of that mindset, I can understand where she comes from in that regard and offer what she usually craves the most; To be listened without being interrupted or bringing up an assumption she hasn’t stated. She use to apologize,,, frequently for how she just kept rambling about some feelings and teared up out of emotion. She still does occasionally, but not as often as before.

We have been through a lot, uncovering old wounds and healing together. Giving each other that reassurance and validation we both crave more than anything. I think that’s a great positive to our relationship, is how well we share a wavelength in our emotions and how we naturally crave physical bliss from each other. It’s a steady and comforting recovery to just cuddle in bed together after a draining day, for either or both of us.

On a positive note, we are very affectionate and sweet together, so a lot of other people tend to say. Sometimes saying how we are wholesome, or adorable together. It is nice and validating to hear. I tend to be more loving in public when given the chance, Dany isn't much into PDA as she doesn't like so many eyes on her. But has gradually learned to not care too much on it. She has gotten more confident in that regard 🥰 especially with surprise kisses U///w///U

I think the first time she ever kisses me a bit...passionately in public was when someone was apparently flirting with me? I didn't have a clue about it if I have to be honest 😅 and I do think her wolf ability may have given her that forward reaction to kiss me. Surprised I was, but not at all opposed to it~ it was so cute to see slowly realize what she did later and how she practically combusted into embarrassment for her forward action. She definitely needed some reassurance and words of encouragement from me 🥰🥰🥰

Needless to say, she is adorable and I love my darling, tiny lover UwU <3

⭐️: Does your FO have any habits that you only noticed after spending a significant amount of time with them? Do they notice any of yours?

Habits eh? Hmm, Atsushi has some peculiar ones that are caused by his tiger ability... I mean so do I, but I'm normally like that since I was a child. 😅 He is like a cat sometimes and it is honestly endearing to witness and very comforting 🥰 he purrs when we cuddle and has these big eyes sometimes when I give him praise and kisses UwU. Sometimes dilated during more... affectionate times~

He also still bares some habits that stem from his time at the orphanage that I never noticed until we started living together. Such as his early sleep and morning wake up schedule. I’m not much of a morning person in the slightest 😅 I can be very irked and tense and need at least an hour to mentally wake myself up as I move about the place. I especially need coffee and some sort of protein with my food to wake me up.

I’m not very lively and may look irritated to a fault 😔 the amount of times I worried mi Tigre at the start because he thought he did something wrong ;;;w;;; of course with time he understood and got use to it and definitely gave me the space to compose myself. He definitely makes it easier to wake up with a few affectionate kisses and preparing breakfast ;;;w;;; I, of course, in the rare times do the same for him, I just have to be up prior to his now 6am wake up 😮‍💨

Hmm.. he also has his bad days, usually when a memory of his past flickers in his mind he kind of shuts down and it leads to nightmares occasionally. They were more frequent earlier on when we moved in together in the dorms and the first few weeks in our new home and have gradually slowed down. But sometimes I would wake in the middle of the night to him gone, immediately picking him out cowering away in a closet. Huddled in a ball and attempting to stifle his tears when I find him..

I was concerned, but not overly as before when he first did this prior to our relationship. Instead I joined him and offered him my comfort to ground him back from his terror and memory. Usually wordless, gentle comfort and letting him cry out all the emotions that twist and pained his heart. Once he calmed a bit, I offered any words of validation and usually pitch the question if he would like to talk about it. Sometimes yes, sometimes no, either or I don’t let up holding him and keeping him steady to present time.

It’s definitely helped a lot, mi pobre tigre… he feels bad sometimes for the disrupt sleep or mental toll it brings me. But I always remind him, gently but stern, that in those moments he is the one that matters and I am not about to abandon him in his time of need.

Maybe it’s because I understand him deeply in that sense, while our lives may not have been the same, we understand the toll our traumatic past takes on us, individually.

Atsushi has definitely been there for me a lot of the time, I have a lot of self doubt and need plenty of reassurance. I’m..overly sensitive too so I don’t like arguing or any rise in anger, it’s hard for me to…really stand up for myself in that regard; hee..to literally not cry because I am trying to make a point…

Ah sorry, about the small downed turn this took; I don’t normally talk about these things. Am trying to get better by talking more about it, especially with mi Tigre who honestly listens when so many … often don’t.

Nonetheless, some more positive, funny/cute habits from the last; Atsushi tends to ramble on about new things he learns and enjoys telling me more about it. I remember he spoke for a whole hour about chameleons, I drew him some cute doodles as he told me more about them. He keeps the image somewhere in his phone. He also rubs his neck or cups his chin a lot when confused, nervous or in deep thought.

He on the other hand has noticed how often I tend to sit on my legs, that I don’t have a single perfect posture no matter where I sit. Could be the most comforting chair or very stiff, hard ones and I still keep my legs up with me. I just can't for the life of me sit still at all, it'd last like less than 5 minutes at most 😅 but he finds it adorable and cute how often I can just curl myself into what looks like an awkward position to others but for me is rather comfy and just how I prefer to sit.

His lap is the most comforting place to sit tho 👀👀

Atsushi: You also have the bad habit of biting your lips, Darling 👀

👀...Noooo... okay yes I do, a lot, like a lot more as of recent,,, And I crack my fingers a lot too...and tap my feet, more so in public out of nervous jitters I think...

Well, that's enough of that~ we greatly appreciate the emoji asks and honestly love doing these kinds of asks 🥺 it gives me so much more of a chance to explore the dynamic and relationship between mi Tigre and I ❤️😍🥰 Leaves me warm and fussy and soft. A melting puddle of silly and foolish love U///w///U...

Please by all mean's don't be shy to send asks or talk with me! I do my best to respond when I can and want to give all my love and support to every self shipper! Till the next asks! Take care!

#bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #atsudany #danielle mika mason #self shipping #self ship community #f/o takeover asks #self ship #tag: we are of the moon and stars my dear #f/o asks

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energyanon · 3 years ago

Text

FAQ Energy Readings

I am well aware that I cannot stop anyone when it comes to doing their own readings even if they are not experienced. by now, I hope that you have read this post and are at the very least following the guidelines. If you have done so, I applaud you, thank you for taking this seriously. If you have read the post, and you still want to go ahead i’ve decided to give some background information for you to consider in your readings while you practice. I will not be discussing HOW to do things, as, if you are doing these readings you should know this already, but this is some extra study just so it can help you in them. (If you arent interested in doing ER’s yourself, some of the information in here will give you some insight into your own energy, feel free to read that but otherwise, please do scroll down to where the quotes are, as they help everyone in understanding their own family dynamic/trauma.) I do think it will help everyone. I will continue to add to this with anything that I find would help you make better decisions when conducting a reading.

1. Before doing readings you need to work on yourself. There are things that can come up in a reading that are extraordinarily triggering, and you will never know that it’s coming up. Sexual abuse, attempted suicide, death.. nothing that wants to come into light gives two shits about you being triggered, and so you need to have done the work to be able to step out and stop without becoming consumed by it. You need to then be able to also have enough strength to close off the reading. If you are too fractured from the trigger in order to do so, you’ve just fucked it up for the person you’re reading. Not good. Do not attempt readings if you have triggers you have not worked on that are either a) going to cause you distress or b) do not allow you to be objective in the reading.

2. Second to this. Being objective in the reading: One of the messages I got last night mentioned that the person who was doing the reading was upset that the person in the reading was not listening to them. You cannot get your own feelings involved. You can merely understand. That’s it. if you are getting upset or feel queezy by what is happening, that is your own energy coming into the reading, and it is not permitted. Get out, shut it down, do not continue. That person does not need your added energy to take care of when they didn’t ask for it themselves, You are only there to observe unless you are doing a constellation in which you are there to guide, but even then you never get your own feelings on the situation involved.

Eg. In constellations, alot of the time we’re talking about sexual abuse or just straight up physical abuse. It does not help the client if you’re there getting your feelings on those things involved in the constellation and telling them that their father is an absolute shit and he deserves to die for what he did. They are trying to heal their past, that is not helping. You can get the child to say what they want to say eg. “What you did was wrong, it hurt me.” But that is only if they need to be guided to say it, they agree that that is what they want to say, or if they say it organically themselves, which we always try to get them to do first. and the most important thing

On this - you can’t say what is good or bad in a reading, it merely IS. The universe always knows what it’s doing, it is putting everyone through trials for them to grow. The very thing that you think is bad, may be the very thing that helps them grow into the best person they can be. You never tell someone what to do, you never force them on a different path if they have not accepted that. If they are on a current lesson, it is not up to you to force them off that lesson before they have learnt from it.

eg. (and this is NOT what I got at all in the reading, this is just an example) Lets say that Ale IS bad for SS, Lets say shes going to absolutely destroy him. Lets say you SEE that. You are not to do absolutely anything with that situation except accept and understand it with love unless that person has asked you to help them otherwise. You don’t tell them something they don’t already know, you don’t ask a question that says “Seb do you know that Ale is trying to sabotage you?” You don’t do shit. Seb would have been given that lesson in the form of Ale for a reason. Seb’s higher self before coming into this body would have asked for that lesson. You have absolutely 0 authority to tell him to do anything that would halt his learning of this lesson. Every person has the right to their own anatomy, it is your duty to have them keep that right.

Reiterating: If you cannot get out of your own feelings, thoughts and ego - do not do the reading. You need to practice this above all else - how to remain detached. There is no judgement when it comes to these. You enter with love,

3. Bringing love into the reading:

No one deserves a reading regardless of if it is a constellation or just an observation where you are bringing shitty energy with you. You come into the constellation/reading with love and understanding only. If the client doesn’t know what they’re doing, if they dont know how to feel, if they are making the wrong decisions, you understand. I understand how you feel. Do you want to move past it? No? I understand with love, lets move you where YOU want to go then. If they want to move past it that requires a constellation and I know none of you are trained in that DO NOT MOVE THEM. DO NOT TELL THEM HOW OR WHERE THEY SHOULD MOVE UNLESS YOU ARE A CERTIFIED FACILITATOR. No ands if or buts, you are not experienced. Do not move them. Observing the energy, following THEM, never changing the energy FOR them unless asked by them.

4. If the topic of grief comes up like that of Seb’s reading where they have fallen into a depression, you leave that reading. The only reason i continued was because whatever spirit it was that showed up felt like it came for a reason and made itself known to me in a way that couldn't be denied, and asked for assistance. And I knew how to deal with moving through grief. That barely ever happens, and the energy was good and true so i followed it (I was spooked initially i hate all things ghosts). I didnt offer anything up to Sebastian in that moment than for a way for him to connect with that grief and the person who had died. I could have left him there, but If i can help someone with that grief and the permission has been given, then I will do so. I didn’t do a huge constellation, just a mini one, just got him back in touch and feeling ok again, and he did. Those two had a chat with each other, there was no advice given, it was just one soul giving love to another soul and reminding them how loved they are. It wasnt me saying this to seb, it was me representing the soul who was saying it through me. Do you notice the difference? I’m telling you this only to know what happens, but do not do it yourself. Unless you are experienced with this, because they can also not find comfort in this, they can fall even further down the hole and then you’ve messed up that person. One more time: Don’t touch it, unless you can get them out of it. And you can’t get them out, unless you are experienced. Observe. Only.

5. It’s important to understand psychology before jumping into someone’s energy. Otherwise you’re understanding only the very basics of said person. There’s many underlying reasons as to why someone is the way that they are. Saying they’re a drug addict will help you very little, but understanding how that addiction came to be in the first place can help you understand and guide them.

Here are some tools to help understand (Reading these does not substitute practicing energy reading, these are only a tool to understand trauma, addiction, and psychology):

It Didn’t Start With You - Mark Wolynn

The Body Keeps Score - Bessel Van Der Kolk

When the Body says No - Gabor Mate

In the realm of Hungry Ghosts - Gabor Mate

If you can’t be bothered to read them (I would advise it if you are doing energy work), here are some of the best sections:

[Keep in mind when “Addiction” is referenced, it does not always mean drug or alcohol abuse, you can be addicted to anything, from being addicted to companionship, to being addicted to cleaning]

“Perhaps your mother carried a wound from her mother and was unable to give you what she didn’t get. Her parenting skills would be limited by what she did not receive from her parents.”

― Mark Wolynn,

It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

“Cutting off can make you feel free at first, but it’s the false freedom of a childhood defense. Ultimately, it will limit your life experience.”

― Mark Wolynn,

It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

When the family has been brought into its natural order, the individual can leave it behind him while still feeling the strength of his family supporting him. Only when the connection to his family is acknowledged, and the person's responsibility seen clearly and then distributed, can the individual feel unburdened and go about his personal affairs without anything from the past weighing him down or holding him back. - Bert Hellinger (Psychologist, created Family Constellations)

“It is impossible to understand addiction without asking what relief the addict finds, or hopes to find, in the drug or the addictive behaviour.”

― Gabor Mate,

In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction

“to suffer is alot easier than change. in order to be happy one needs to have courage.“ - Bert Hellinger

“Until we uncover the actual triggering event in our family history, we can relive fears and feelings that don’t belong to us—unconscious fragments of a trauma—and we will think they’re ours.”

― Mark Wolynn,

It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

“when a couple has children, parenting often consumes all the partners' energies and they have little time left over for their relationship with each other. But the love the parents have their children is nourished by the love in their relationship with each other and is a result of that love. Often, if the couple relationship is restored to first priority, the parenting improves aswell. Above all, children feel happy when they have the experience of having parents who love each other." - Bert Hellinger

“It’s important to restate: not all behaviors expressed by us actually originate from us. They can easily belong to family members who came before us. We can merely be carrying the feelings for them or sharing them. We call these “identification feelings.”

― Mark Wolynn,

It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

"You don't truly love someone until you love their fate, too." - Bert Hellinger

“Not every story has a happy ending, ... but the discoveries of science, the teachings of the heart, and the revelations of the soul all assure us that no human being is ever beyond redemption. The possibility of renewal exists so long as life exists. How to support that possibility in others and in ourselves is the ultimate question.” ― Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction “When an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate. —Carl Jung, Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self” ― Mark Wolynn, It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

“The greatest damage done by neglect, trauma or emotional loss is not the immediate pain they inflict but the long-term distortions they induce in the way a developing child will continue to interpret the world and her situation in it. All too often these ill-conditioned implicit beliefs become self-fulfilling prophecies in our lives. We create meanings from our unconscious interpretation of early events, and then we forge our present experiences from the meaning we’ve created. Unwittingly, we write the story of our future from narratives based on the past...Mindful awareness can bring into consciousness those hidden, past-based perspectives so that they no longer frame our worldview.’Choice begins the moment you disidentify from the mind and its conditioned patterns, the moment you become present…Until you reach that point, you are unconscious.’ …In present awareness we are liberated from the past.” ― Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction “Once key connections are made, and we practice focusing on our healing images and experiences, we lay the groundwork for new neural pathways. Healing can then be surprisingly efficient.” ― Mark Wolynn, It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

“Not why the addiction but why the pain.” ― Gabor Maté “When I am sharply judgmental of any other person, it's because I sense or see reflected in them some aspect of myself that I don't want to acknowledge.” ― Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction

“If people are addicted to self-soothing behaviours, it's only because in their formative years they did not receive the soothing they needed. Such understanding helps delete toxic self-judgment on the past and supports responsibility for the now. Hence the need for compassionate self-inquiry.” ― Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction

“Emotional competence requires the capacity to feel our emotions, so that we are aware when we are experiencing stress; the ability to express our emotions effectively and thereby to assert our needs and to maintain the integrity of our emotional boundaries; the facility to distinguish between psychological reactions that are pertinent to the present situation and those that represent residue from the past. What we want and demand from the world needs to conform to our present needs, not to unconscious, unsatisfied needs from childhood. If distinctions between past and present blur, we will perceive loss or the threat of loss where none exists; and the awareness of those genuine needs that do require satisfaction, rather than their repression for the sake of gaining the acceptance or approval of others. Stress occurs in the absence of these criteria, and it leads to the disruption of homeostasis.”

― Gabor Maté, When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress “All of the diagnoses that you deal with - depression, anxiety, ADHD, bipolar illness, post traumatic stress disorder, even psychosis, are significantly rooted in trauma. They are manifestations of trauma. Therefore the diagnoses don't explain anything. The problem in the medical world is that we diagnose somebody and we think that is the explanation. He's behaving that way because he is psychotic. She's behaving that way because she has ADHD. Nobody has ADHD, nobody has psychosis - these are processes within the individual. It's not a thing that you have. This is a process that expresses your life experience. It has meaning in every single case.” Vulnerability is our susceptibility to be wounded. This fragility is part of our nature and cannot be escaped. The best the brain can do is to shut down conscious awareness of it when pain becomes so vast or unbearable that it threatens our ability to function. The automatic repression of painful emotion is a helpful child's prime defence mechanism and can enable the child to endure trauma otherwise be catastrophic. The unfortunate consequence is a wholesale dulling of emotional awareness.” ― Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction Here are also the QNA’s I have done that are in relation to how Energy works (This is not a replacement for actual practice, knowing this is NOT ENOUGH) I will continue to add to this with anything that I find would help. I’m hoping you guys take this seriously, and don’t attempt anything that could potentially harm yourself or others in a reading.

#QNA #FAQ

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darkestfable · 4 years ago

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The End

((Thank you to @kidcatgemini for helping me with such a...painful RP. CW: blood, death, mind control))

“I’m sorry, babe, I gotta go. They gave me these orders and-” Raetos heaved a sigh, tightening the rifle over his shoulder. He didn’t want to leave Fable alone, but he knew his lover couldn’t go with him.

“I know, I know. It ain’t gonna be forever. Jus’ go do what you gotta do ‘n when you get home we’ll make up for lost time, yeah?” the blood hunter smiled up at his lover, pulling him down by his chest piece for a kiss. It lasted for a little longer than he meant to, got a little more heated than he’d anticipated.

“I love you.” “I’ll miss you too, Raetos.”

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

Restlessness set in much faster than the blood hunter had anticipated. One night alone and he was chomping at the bit to do...anything. All the maps were updated as best as he could, spelling errors in the survival guide master copy had been edited. Fable couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. There had to be an outlet for the nervous energy.

There was a small dig in Feralas that he’d spotted in Brent’s itinerary, back when they were talking about locations. Fable knew the forest fairly well, enough that there wouldn’t be much he’d have to guard himself against. That would work just fine as a distraction, and he’d be back in a matter of a few days at most. His foxes, Connor and Kenway, could help keep predators away from the homestead while he was gone, but someone would have to feed them…

Vandrir.

The druid he’d interviewed for his old group would be a perfect caretaker for the animals! During the interview, Vandrir had mentioned that he wasn’t an expert at things, but more of a jack of all trades. And well, if Raetos could manage Obligation and Responsibility, Fable was certain a druid could.

Thankfully, he’d agreed without hesitation.

Now that all of the plans were made, Fable was able to head out to Feralas and simply enjoy being in the field, hands in the dirt, mud on his knees…

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

The sun was high in the sky, filtering through the thick canopy of the trees older than he was. It was warm and humid, and Fable had ditched his shirt a long time ago to continue moving earth. Survey equipment taken from his old job was still serving him well, and had pointed him to this exact location. The hole was waist deep on him, but the corner of a box that he’d uncovered had given way to the rest of it; a perfect cube that had almost been lost to the land again. Fable could feel the magic radiating off of it, enough to make his fingers tingle. This would be fun to transport back…

“Mmm…if only all archeologists were as handsome as you,” a melodious voice spoke up from behind him.

A Ren’dorei woman sat on a rock a few paces away, legs crossed and leaning back on her hands. To say she was attractive was an understatement, and she dressed to show off every aspect of her features; tight shorts with thigh high boots and a low cut crop top. Her deep blue eyes and pink lips were absolutely captivating against her lavender skin. Purple hair with glowing blue tips cascaded down to mid back. Not a blemish or scar could be seen on her smooth skin. It was impossible to tell how long she’d been sitting there, or even how she’d arrived.

Her head tilted in interest at Fable, a playful smile on her lips.

“But then, I suppose we wouldn’t get much work done, would we, Sweetie?”

Fable looked up from the artifact, squinting at the figure perched on the rock. His glowing blue eyes travelled every inch of her form, clearly appreciating it. She was absolutely stunning, and were it before his relationship with Raetos, he’d have completely abandoned the dig to go flirt. Instead, the blood hunter got to his feet, wiping some sweat from his cheek(and leaving a smear of dirt in its wake).

“Not with women like you runnin’ ‘round, that’s for damned sure. Did you need somethin’, or you jus’ here t’ watch me work?” Fable smirked. He had questions about her arrival, for sure, but the tight shirt distracted his mind quite well.

“Would it make me a bad girl if I were here for the later?” she asked, almost innocently, “Actually, I was surveying a site, just north of here, for a client. Then I came across a hot shirtless guy playing in the dirt.”

Uncrossing her legs, she got up from where she was sitting and strolled over to the edge of where Fable was digging, hips swaying as she went. There, she got down on her hands and knees, both to be eye level with Fable, but also to give him a better view of her cleavage.

“Decided I wanted a closer look, so here I am,” her eyes left his to shamelessly take in every inch of his physique, “So, what’s your name, handsome?”

“Must’ve been kinna like Winter’s Veil mornin’ for you then,” the blood hunter chuckled, watching her every move. Not like she was a threat, but like she was a meal. He couldn’t help it, even if he knew in the back of his mind that she was doing it on purpose.

“Th’ name ‘s Fable, gorgeous. Do I get to know yours, since you’re enjoyin’ the show?”

Fable hung his thumbs in his waistband, effectively tugging the dirty black pants down just a little more in the front. There was no danger in flirting, right? Showing off as much as she was? Of course his lover was in the back of his mind, and he’d never seriously go through with anything. Of course.

“You dig too? Uh oh, sounds like you’re competition…”

“Oh?” the woman perked an eyebrow, her ears flickering playfully, “Well, good news for you, hmm? You’re competition’s been distracted. She decided to come get dirty elsewhere.”

She bit down on her bottom lip lightly as her eyes absolutely ate up the little bit of extra skin he allowed her to see of his waistline. She leaned in as her piercing blue eyes moved up to meet his again, to the point where her lips were but an inch away from his.

“My name’s Cebina, Sweetie. Feel like taking a break to play with a pretty lady?”

His own lips parted as he let out a slow breath, clearly struggling. He had a job to do, he had a boyfriend for which he cared very deeply. Fable shook his head a bit, smiling and ready to take a step back. If he didn’t remove himself from her aura of seduction, he knew he’d make a very big mistake. The blood hunter’s hands tightened at the waist of his pants, trying to maintain control.

“You ain’t got th’ faintest idea of how much I wanna play with you, but uh…” his voice trailed off, and he vaguely motioned to the artifact with his head. “And I kinda got a boyfriend I ain’t lookin’ t’ cheat on.”

Cebina moved in before he had the chance to step back. Arms wrapping around his neck as she brought her body down into the small space with him. A hand gripped the back of his head, keeping his gaze on her as she pressed her body against him. That playful, seductive grin never faded. There was a flicker in her glowing eyes, something that seemed to nudge at his mind.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. Doesn’t have to go all the way. A bit of fooling around never hurt anyone, hmm?”

With that, she attempted to capture his mouth with hers.

Any protests were swallowed in the kiss, Fable’s willpower breaking. His hands went to her hips then before sliding around her waist to pull her close. Her skin felt electric everywhere he touched, and Fable didn't hesitate to back her against the side of the hole, dirt crumbling around their feet.

His subconscious was screaming alerts that his conscious mind was deaf to.

One of the blood hunter's hands slid over Cebina's hip, down to her thigh. Strong fingers hooked under her leg and lifted as he shifted his hips to get between them. Fable was running on instinct, caught like a moth with a flame.

Cebina moaned into the kiss, more than pleased by Fable’s response. Her leg wrapped around his waist as she rolled her hips against him as the heat between them grew. Her other hand grasped the hair at the back of his head, wrenching it to the side to suck and bite at his neck.

While she had him well distracted, her other hand unsheathed an old and ornate looking dagger from her boot; easily reached with her leg up. She could feel his excitement and pent up energy swell. Part of her wished she could play a little longer, but her mind control only lasted for so long.

“—Oh, Sweety!” She cried as he buried his face between her neck and shoulder to repay the favor.

It was time.

It happened very quickly, shadows closed in on the two as the dagger pierced Fable’s upper back in one swift motion. Immediately, shadow magic poured into the wound, spreading through his system fast. The effect was painful, much more than physical… the spirit weapon grasping his very soul.

As the runic weapon continued its siphon, Cebina grabbed either side of her victim’s head to make eye contact one last time. By now, the shadows had enveloped her form completely. Her smile was wicked.

“Thanks for digging up the artifact for me.”

Fable’s mind was awash with pleasure. Everything felt hazy and floaty, akin to being drunk without the alcohol. He gasped pleasantly at the teeth in his neck, fingers tightening around Cebina’s leg. Nothing existed outside of her, outside of this. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, common sense screamed Raetos’ name, tried to remind Fable of his lover’s existence.

He might as well be deaf.

“You taste goo-” the blood hunter started to purr against her neck, but the words were frozen on his lips when the shadows washed over them both.

The first thing he felt was searing pain, the blade biting through flesh and muscle and into his lung, fitting neatly between ribs. Fable didn’t even get to stumble backwards, he was trapped and gasping for breath as the hurt spread through his body. Tears beaded and rolled from his eyes, pale blue gaze fixed on Cebina’s shadowed form. He barely managed to cough out a breath, blood running from the corner of his mouth.

His last act of defiance before his legs gave out was to spit blood at Cebina’s face. The blood hunter crumpled to the ground at her feet, wheezing. Fable’s very essence was being pulled from his body, and he couldn’t even scream. No one would find him out here so deep in Feralas, and he was breaking a promise he’d made to Raetos. He remembered their date, how he’d promised his lover that he’d not leave him.

“Raetos… I’m sorry…” Fable gasped out before his world went dark.

#story #rp log #death cw #blood cw #mind control cw #Cebina #Fable #Raetos #Vandrir

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

Text

I Refuse to be a Named Character pt 2

Happy Halloween everyone! Here is part 2 of the nameless side character story. I was so amazed at the response to it, thank you to everyone who commented or sent me messages. It really made my day. This story will probably be 4-5 parts. If all goes well part 3 should go up tomorrow!

Part 1 linked here.

Enjoy!

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“So are you Chloe’s twin sister? You two look so alike!”

Graham, the story’s hero, smiled handsomely at me, closing the distance between us.

I grunted in response, otherwise ignoring him as I reluctantly led his group into my small home. One young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, clutched an infected wound at her side with a groan as she walked. I helped her to my bed, uncovering the wound and gathering medical supplies to treat her with. I kept my face nonchalant, projecting a calm air, but on the inside I was bitterly complaining.

Stupid hero. Stupid plot. Even in the middle of the forest they manage to find me? Just what does a poor girl have to do to avoid these harbingers of doom?!

Unaware of my inner raging, Chloe had already stepped forward a bright smile on her face.

“Sister! I was so worried about you!” She reached out, and ignoring my efforts to step away, managed to pull me in for a tight hug. I struggled briefly, feeling uncomfortable. “I thought you were dead!”

I was happy that Chloe was still alive. Despite the bitter way we parted, I had never wanted anything bad to happen to her. But that didn’t mean I was pleased with her bringing the story’s plot right into my backyard.

I pulled away from her grasp. “I’m still very much alive.”

“Why did you never mention you had a sister, Chloe?” Graham’s face was mildly confused as he stared at her. Chloe froze, and I smiled to myself as I settled back next to the injured girl. Chloe obviously hadn’t talked about me, as she didn’t want Graham to know she had abandoned me, but how was she supposed to explain it now?

Her answer was apparently to cry loudly.

“I thought she was dead! I was so sad, I just couldn’t talk about it!” She sniffed back further tears, looking pitifully up at the story’s hero. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I just didn’t dare hope…”

I tried to hold back my laughter, and it came out in a suppressed snort. Chloe glared daggers at me for a moment, before turning back to Graham with a sad expression once more. He reached out to pat her shoulder, handing her a handkerchief to dry her tears.

“It’s okay, Chloe, I’m happy you were able to find her again.” His smile was so bright it was almost blinding.

Shuddering, I turned my attention to the wound in front of me. I carefully cleaned the dirt and dried blood, mixing herbs to stop bleeding and prevent infection to pack in her wounds. The actions reminded me of doing a similar task for Luke years ago. Smiling idly at the thought of him, I briefly touched the bracelet at my wrist.

I hope he’s doing well. His last letter said he was fine… but I would feel better if I could see him. Even though we only spent a few months together, I missed talking to him.

As I sat there, lost in thought, I slowly noticed that the room was silent. Glancing over, I caught sight of Graham’s face. His friendly smile was gone, replaced by a serious expression. His gaze was fixed on my bracelet. I felt uneasy, and tugged my rolled up sleeves down to cover my wrist, but even after his view was blocked, I felt his eyes still watching intently.

“Where were you and Chloe before you escaped?” His voice was quiet, but I felt a chill run down my spine.

I kept my attention back on his injured companion, wrapping the wounds while I answered. “At the household of one of the minor Lords.”

“…” The silence dragged on, causing a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, but eventually he turned away, starting a different conversation as if he had never asked in the first place. The tension drained from the room, and I felt myself relax slowly.

_____________________________

Later that evening, I sat out on my porch, my weapons close at hand, staring up at the sky. I was drained. I had spent so much time living in solitude since Blade left (not that she had been one for social interaction even when she lived here), that the now full house with all the chatter and noise was giving me a headache. I rubbed my forehead, looking at the stars, feeling lost. There was a sense of foreboding, of an inevitable fate bearing down on me that I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

“Do you need to talk?” At the sound of Graham’s voice I groaned quietly, turning towards him, feeling slightly ill at the sight of the overly-sweet smile he wore.

“No.”

He seemed undeterred by my unfriendly tone and expression. “It’s okay, I just want to help you. Everyone here has been through terrible things, but we’re stronger now that we’ve banded together.” His voice was earnest, his eyes kind, as he sat down beside me.

I inched away from him. “That’s nice.”

“You could join us, you know.” His smile widened. “Be with your sister again. And the others? We’re much closer than mere companions. We’re a family, you know? And you can be a part of our family.”

It sounded so simple when he spoke. As if I would be happy and welcomed with opened arms. I glanced at him, idly wondering if he had given a similar speech to all the other young women in his group. If they had joined out of loneliness, a desire to belong, slowly falling in love with the man who had welcomed them so gently. All of them thinking they were special to him, when he only saw them as tools to be used to achieve his goals. And he wanted me to join them?

Even the thought was suffocating. “I prefer to be alone.”

“No one wants to be alone.” He sighed quietly. “I was once like you. Not trusting anyone, thinking the world was against me. If it weren’t for your sister Chloe finding me… believing in me… I don’t know where I’d be.”

“…” I stared up at the stars, not caring enough to answer.

“We could really use your help, to be honest.” He laughed, a self-deprecating gesture. “To tell you the truth, I’m not just a simple traveler…. I’m a prince.”

Was I supposed to be impressed? I tried not to roll my eyes. Stop trying to drag me into the plot!

Graham stared intently at me, and seemed disconcerted at my lack of reaction. “Did Chloe tell you already?”

“No.”

“Oh…. Well, maybe you understand then. Being a prince in Armaria isn’t all that special. I’m just one of many sons that lecherous old fart has. The real challenge, the real test… it’s the throne.”

Graham stood up, obviously filled with restless energy, and began pacing back and forth as he continued.

“There’s three tests that one must pass to be named the sole heir to the throne. First is simple, you must possess the token of affection passed from the king to the mother of the son in question. For those women who bore my father multiple sons… well she has to choose who she thinks is the strongest.” He paused, looking down on me as if wishing to gauge my reaction to these words.

I shrugged, bored at hearing again the exposition from a book I didn’t even like. Graham finally frowned at this, tugging at a something at his collar before holding it before my eyes. It was a beautiful strand of pearls, with a small golden amulet hanging from it. “This is my token, handed to me by my mother before she died. It will stay with me until I’ve successfully reached the throne… after which I will give it to my one true love as an engagement token.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Congratulations, who is the lucky girl?”

“… I’m not sure yet.” He hesitated before he spoke. “I’ve yet to fall in love… but I feel that it could change soon.” His words felt loaded with meaning, and he was smiling charmingly at me again.

It honestly made me feel sick. I had never liked Graham’s character even in the book. For all that he seemed nice and friendly, he was too… disingenuous. Too willing to tell his companions what they wanted to hear. To easy to abandon them to their horrible deaths. The fact that everyone praised him as a hero while he did so made it all the more chilling.

Even Lucien the villain is better than him. I thought suddenly. He might be a violent killer, but at least he’s open and honest about it. This “hero” makes me want to keep a hand on my wallet and sleep with one eye open!

“Well, good luck with that.” I answered him unenthusiastically. I hoped sincerely that he didn’t choose Chloe. Whichever “true love” he eventually picked would have a difficult time with this dishonest man.

Graham laughed at my answer. “How rare to see a girl like you who doesn’t covet anything.”

“I covet plenty of things.” Safety. Silence. Separation from the plot. “Just nothing you can give.”

“All the more reason to have someone like you at my side.” He sat down again. “The second task is much more dangerous, you see. One must travel to the Northern Desert. The place is crawling with dangerous animals and large lawless bandit gangs. Each gang leader has a Tarif, a small amulet that serves as a symbol of their undying loyalty. To reach the third and final test, a prince must be able to acquire one of these Tarifs and bring it back to the Western City.”

Seeing he was finally done, I shook my head. “It’s seems like you already have a good group here. You should be just fine without me.”

“We need someone who can track. And it wouldn’t hurt if she could hold her own in a fight too. “ Graham sighed. “Lula, the girl you just patched up, was supposed to help with tracking the bandit gang, but now… there’s no way she would survive out there while recovering from an injury. We need you.”

I smiled at him, and he seemed to relax for a moment, obviously feeling confident that I would agree.

“No.” Standing up, I turned to walk away, only to have my arm grabbed and held back. I turned coldly towards Graham, who refused to let go.

“Don’t you want to be a part of something bigger? Something greater?”

Like this awful plot that kills off the majority of its main characters? “Nope.”

“You would be a part of the small group of people who placed the future king on his throne! Forever remembered in legends!”

“Not interested.”

His eyes widened at my calm answer, a faint trace of panic visible in his eyes. “What about your sister?! Don’t you want her to be safe? Shouldn’t you stay by her side as she faces danger?”

I shrugged, still trying and failing to pull my arm back. “My sister has made her own choices, as I’ve made mine. You and Chloe are different from me, going out to face danger and accomplish wonderful things.” I smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. “I prefer to stay at home. Some people are just not meant for greatness or adventure.”

“…” Graham continued to stare at me, and as the silence stretched out I became more and more uncomfortable, but I refused to show it, looking back up at the stars.

“You never told me your name.” When he finally spoke again, his voice was strangely serious. I glanced over, surprised to see a look in his eye I couldn’t quite understand. Fortunately he finally released his grip on my arm, allowing me to put some distance between us.

“There’s no need to. I’ve never been important enough to have one.” I laughed briefly, shouldering my weapons and walking out towards the forest. “I’m going out to patrol. Goodnight, Your Highness. Good luck with winning the throne.”

Graham didn’t answer me. He just silently watched, his gaze boring into my back as I left him behind.

_____________________________

I thought that would be the end of it. At least, I hoped it would. After all, I had turned down the prince multiple times; he had to give up at some point, right?

But when I woke up the next morning, it was to Chloe’s desperate tears.

“You have to come with us.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, her face pale, her hands wringing together in front of her. She looked so different from the confident girl she had been back in our world, the one who had left me behind with only an angry glance.

“I made myself very clear to your hero last night. I’m not going.” I got up, washing my face from the cold water in the basin by my bed, trying to wake myself up faster.

“You don’t understand! Graham says that if you don’t come along, he’ll leave me behind!”

“Good.” I smiled. “You remember how many of his companions died in the Northern Desert? Chopped to pieces, shot with arrows, poisoned… Better if you can meet up with him in the Western City. Then at least if you die there it will only be a quick stab in the back.”

Chloe stepped back, her face drawn. “How can you be so cruel? I can’t abandon Graham and my friends now!”

“Then follow after them. No need for me to go.”

“But…”

I shook my head, feeling frustrated. “Chloe, I’m living a happy life out here in the forest, away from the plot. I don’t want to risk my life for Graham. Don’t ask me to.”

Chloe sank down to the floor, staring up at me. “Please. I need you.” She hesitated, then reached out, her hand pulling on my pant leg. “This… this hasn’t been going well. I thought if I found Graham first, was his main support, he would see me as special. That I would be the heroine. But…”

“He still gathered everyone, treating everyone the same.” I completed her sentence after she hesitated for a long moment.

“Graham really needs someone who can track. If I convince you to come… He might look at me differently.” She sounded miserable. I tried my best not to care.

“It won’t change what kind of person he is, Chloe.”

“Please. This is my only chance.” She pulled herself to her knees, kneeling in front of me. “I’m begging you. If you do this, I will never ask for you again. You can come back here and live the rest of your life as a no-name background character. But please. You’re the only one I can rely on. The only family I have left. “

“…” I wasn’t an idiot. I knew she was using me. Chloe had always been selfish, always needing me to be the one to give in, to let her have her way. She had left me behind, never looking for me, and only now wanted to claim that she missed me, that she needed me.

Part of me wanted to laugh in her face. To ignore her and watch her struggle without me. To have her realize that she couldn’t always have her way.

But I couldn’t. Because deep down, no matter how angry or bitter my feelings toward her had become, she was right about one thing:

She was all the family I had left, in our world and in this one.

Just one more time. I promised myself silently. One last time I’ll give in, give her what she wants. Then I’ll hide away so deeply that she’ll never find me again.

“I’ll come along for the second task only. After that you and your plot are on your own.” My voice sounded tired as I finally answered her.

Chloe jumped up, excited “THANK YOU…”

“On two conditions.” I interrupted with a grim smile. “First, I want your word that after this, you will never try to involve me in this madness again.”

“Of course!” Chloe promised without hesitation. “What’s the second condition?”

“Forget my name from our previous world. In this place, in this life, I’m not someone important enough to have a name.”

“Really?” She looked shocked. “Do you really think that by not having a name you’ll be safe? That’s pretty silly…”

“Silly or not, it’s my choice. I’m not a main character, Chloe. I’m the nameless woods guide who will help your group for a chapter. After that I fade from the story, never to be heard from again. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I watched her agree with a smug grin, feeling sad.

I already regret this.

It’s just a short interaction with the plot, right? … What could go wrong?

I groaned at my own thoughts, leaving to pack my bags.

_____________________________

I sat down next to the campfire, feeling tired, although more emotionally than physically. The long day of riding on horses was tough, but nothing I hadn’t experienced before while searching for game. In fact, that had ended up being the least of my worries. The problem was the stupid hero of this story, who wouldn’t leave me alone.

Graham was annoying.

Despite his initial happiness at my agreement to help out their group, he seemed dissatisfied with my desire to not be too close to them. Which led to him trying to get me to open up.

It was giving me a headache.

At first he kept trying to have “heart to heart” talks, asking personal questions, trying to guess my feelings and motivations. When that didn’t work he began dropping “private” details about himself, acting as if I was his only confidant. (Which wasn’t very interesting, as I knew most of the things he spoke of from the book already). When I continued to ignore him he began challenging me to contests of skill, from knife throwing to archery to even smaller things like cooking. Perhaps he thought that if he could develop a rivalry with me, we would become friends?

At first I beat him quickly, trying to shut him up, but that only seemed to make him want to challenge me again. The last few times I lost on purpose, hoping he’d lose interest, but now he seemed to want to spend time “teaching me” about the skill I’d lost in. There was no way to win, so I’d gone back to ignoring his challenges.

I poked at the fire, imaging his smiling face instead of the charred wood, feeling bitter.

Doesn’t he have a whole harem to manage? Why does the hero have so much free time to bother with a nameless side character?

“We arrive at the desert tomorrow.”

Speak of the devil.

I looked up at Graham who had sat across from me, and frowned. “Should we expect trouble?”

“Perhaps. I’m not the only Prince after all.” He shook his head. “The King passed on six personal tokens to his various women, so there will potentially be five other opponents besides us in the desert.”

“How many Tarifs are there?” I tried to remember what I had read in the book, but couldn’t.

“Three. So only half of us will go the Western City to face the final test.”

“I see.” I didn’t ask any further questions, trying to ignore the feeling of being stared at.

“Thank you for helping out scare away those bandits, earlier today.” Graham spoke up again. “You’re an amazing shot with a bow.”

I shrugged. “Be pretty difficult to be a good hunter if I couldn’t shoot.” I had aimed to miss near their heads, and fortunately the small group of armed men had run off without a fight.

“Either way, I’m glad you’re here.” Graham smiled again, making me want to sigh.

“…” I’m not glad to be here, though.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” He asked quietly, after I stayed silent for a long few moments.

“Don’t have one.”

“We can’t just not call you anything. Can I come up with a name for you?”

His persistence was irritating. I found myself missing the days with Luke back on the ninth lord’s estate. We had spoken every day for months, but he had never pushed me to give him a name, or make one up. I felt somehow, that he understood me, my desire to stay out of the spotlight in this terrifying world.

I moved to touch the bracelet hidden under my sleeve, but stopped myself in time. “No thank you. I prefer to not have one.”

Graham sat back, rolling his eyes. “You’re very frustrating.”

I smiled for the first time since he sat down. “Likewise.”

_____________________________

We arrived at the desert the next morning. A large ravine separated the Eastern Woods from Northern Desert, with only a few bridges serving as possible crossing points. I grew more nervous as we neared the largest bridge, remembering in the story how Graham’s party had been ambushed here.

Fortunately Chloe had already tipped off the group. Everyone had their hands on their weapons, ready to fight at a moments notice. We slowly crossed over the bridge, and a relieved sigh broke out over the group as we touched ground on the other side. I, on the other hand, felt more uneasy, looking at the large rocks around us, many of which were large enough to hide enemies.

THUD

An arrow whizzed by my face, striking the young woman next to me in the chest. I jumped back, looking for cover, cursing under my breath.

Of course this horrible plot won’t go smoothly.

“Prince Graham.” A sinister voice called out. “I’m so glad you could make it.” A young man stepped out from behind one of the large rocks, his bright green eyes almost seeming to glow in the bright sunlight shining down. His handsome features were marred by the look of vicious pleasure on his face. He glanced at the girl who had been killed behind me and laughed quietly, making me dislike him even more.

“Corran.” Graham spat out the name, and I nodded with understanding.

Prince Corran, a secondary villain from the Deadly Crown series. He was less capable than his villainous half-brother Lucien, but still managed to kill off quite a few main characters before being annihilated by Lucien in the end.

“Do you really think you can get the crown, brother?” Corran smiled, looking around our group. “Maybe if you spent less time finding girls to fall in love with, and gathered actual warriors…”

THUD.

My arrow struck his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. I cursed, my aim had been slightly off as I shot as soon as I looked around my cover.

“WHO DARES STRIKE THEIR FUTURE KING?” Corran struggled to his feet, his pale face angry.

I stayed silent behind cover. Who would be stupid enough to step out to take credit after sneak attacking the villain…

“I did it!” Chloe clutched her own bow, stepping out with a smile. “That’s what you get for underestimating Prince Graham! HE’s the true future king, no a pretender like you!”

I groaned quietly, preparing to shoot again.

“…” Corran’s smile widened. “Very well. I had initially planned to leave some of you alive…” He whistled, and ten men stood out from cover, weapons drawn. “But since you have a death wish, I should be kind and grant it for you!”

With loud screams, they rushed forward, I fired shot after shot, disabling a handful, but as they reached our group, it was difficult to shoot without friendly fire. Fortunately several of the young women in Graham’s team were excellent swordswomen, but they were outnumbered.

I drew my sword, feeling frustrated. What happened in the book again? How did Graham escape? I struggled to remember, even as I moved closer to the fight, my heart beating nervously in my chest.

Oh wait…

As it struck me, I heard terrified screams from Corran’s men.

It wasn’t that someone showed up to help Graham…

The sounds of fighting grew louder.

Wasn’t it just that an even bigger villain showed up?

Fighting his way through the group, a strangely familiar figure cut through Corrans’ men, his blade moving faster than the eye could follow. With his help the tide turned, and soon there was only Corran left, injured and enraged.

“WHY DID YOU INTERFERE?!” His screams were answered by silence from the man who stood in front of him.

I stared at his back, feeling a growing unease. Even without seeing his face, I felt I knew him… My hand reached over, touching the beads at my wrist.

But it can’t be him… why would he be here? Unless… A terrifying thought, one I had always avoided, came back at full force. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I must be imagining things.

“If you destroy your token, I will spare your life.” The man’s quiet response caught everyone by surprise.

“You lie!” Corran scoffed. “There’s no way you’d let a threat like me live!”

The man shrugged. “Without your token, you can’t compete for the throne. Why would I need your life?”

Corran stared at him, silently struggling. I remembered from the book that he was a proud man. The idea of giving up probably sat poorly with him. But was it worth his life?

The answer it seemed, was no

“Very well.” He finally, reluctantly spoke up. He reached into his pocket, bringing out a golden ring. “I will destroy…”

An arrow bloomed in his throat, blood tracing a path down to soak the collar of his shirt. A startled expression frozen on his face, Corran’s body fell to the ground, the soft impact seeming unbearably loud in the shocked silence.

I stared over at Graham, who still held up his bow with a bright smile. Seeing the gazes of the crowd turn towards him, he shrugged. “I’m avenging our fallen teammate, Alara.”

Poor Alara. I shuddered as I thought of the girl who had died at the beginning of the fight. She was one of Graham’s most trusted companions. But she was a main character, and this terrible plot wouldn’t let her go.

The dark haired man who had rushed to our aid stared at the dead body of Corran for a moment, before turning to walk away without another word.

“WAIT!” Graham called out after him. “Are you really going to just help us and leave without saying a word?”

The man kept walking.

“Not even to say hello to your fiancé?”

He froze in his tracks. My breath stopped for a moment as he turned around to face us, praying silently that what I suspected wasn’t true.

At the sight of his familiar face, I let out the air I had held in, feeling lightheaded.

“What do you want, Graham?” He didn’t look angry or annoyed. If anything he seemed… nervous.

“Not much, brother.” Graham smiled, stepping closer. “Just thought it might be nice for you two to talk after so long apart. Even if she’s technically helping out your competition.”

“I appreciate the concern.” The young man’s smile was forced as he moved away from Graham, stopping in front of me. I studied him silently as he drew near. He was different than I remembered, he had grown taller, his face more mature and filled out. But his eyes… the blue so dark they seemed almost black… they were unchanged. A brief flash of guilt shone from them as he looked straight at me, and a helpless smile tugged at his lips.

“Hello again.” His voice was barely over a whisper, but I felt my heart beat faster.

“Hello Luke.” I paused for a moment, feeling tired. “Or I guess I should call you Lucien?”

He didn’t deny it, and I felt a pain in my chest.

He was my first friend in this world, one of my closest friends in either to be honest.

But he was also the story’s villain. The violent murderer who slaughtered everyone who opposed him? Whose parts in the book I often skipped because the descriptions made me sick to my stomach?

That villain was Luke?

I hate this story.

I looked up at the one person I had trusted in this world, feeling lost.

“I think we need to talk.”

#writing #part 2 #part 3 in process #fantasy #rebirth #violence #intrigue

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

Text

Too much said

A/N: This was requested by an anon, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests please let me now!

Summary; After a long and terrible day for Richie, he gets into a fight with Eddie, worsening his day.

Warnings: a lot of curse words.

The fight happened so fast and unexpected that Richie was left blindsided. Sure, Eddie and him have their arguments from time to time, but never have they been so cruel and vile before.

It’s honestly Richie’s fault, both for starting the fight and pursuing it, and there’s no excuse that he can give obtaining why he did that.

See, Eddie has this gift where he sees straight through Richie, past all the layers of defense and deflection until he comes across the real, raw Richie, and most of the time Richie loves that about him. But at times, it unnerves him too. The amount of layers he manages to surpass baffles Richie, no number of walls stopping him from getting to the truth. He scratches and tears to uncover everything about him, leaving him torn open for the world to witness. That’s how it feels at least, and Richie can’t help but want to scurry away from it sometimes.

No one has ever cared about him enough to do something like that, most noticed his overload of jokes and his overly outgoing personality and walked, no ran, away as fast they could. Richie was fine with that, as he was only able to see his negatives anyway and figured they were all right for doing so, but Eddie proves to him everyday that he is worth it. The anxiety in his mind and Eddie fight each other every day, thankfully with Eddie victorious, but the days Richie does succumb to his fears, give way to bad moods and even worse decisions.

The fight started with a simple question on Eddie’s part, an innocent inquiry that had no business leading up to the brawl it did.

‘Hey Richie, you okay? I haven’t heard you spout a joke all day.’ He says with a teasing smile, yet the corners of his lips a tad too low to genuine, a strong indicator that he’s faking the chaff, and worry is hidden behind it.

And that’s the loaded question isn’t it? A question that so many answers can be given too, either truth or lie, and a query that no is able to verify anyway. Today sucked for Richie, from waking up late to blowing his interview with the board directors and spilling water over his computer causing it to crash and delete all the documents on which he wrote his new material.

During the day Eddie texted to ask if he wanted to go out shopping for new suits that are required for Ben and Bev’s wedding. ‘You can’t wear a Hawaiian shirt to my wedding Richie. I’m a fashion designer.’

Richie agreed, not that he was jumping on the opportunity to go in and out of stores, but solely for spending time with Eddie, but then he got the text message. That god-for-saken text message highlighted the terrible day. He refused to mull over that now though, so while he adjust his smile to appear naturally, he nodded to Eddie.

‘I’m fine Eds, why wouldn’t I be?’

Eddie’s brow twitches, then stills and smooths out again. He’s suppressing his telltale of wary that Richie points out time and time again to taunt him.

‘Are you sure? Cause I have never heard you in my life say no to fast-food,’ he pushes.

Richie sighs inaudible, and walks over their liquor cabinet in the living room, pulling out a bottle of red wine, the only kind of alcoholic drink Eddie likes.

‘Like I said Spaghetti, I’m fine, tired but good.’

Grabbing two wine glasses by the stem, per Eddie’s requests, he uncorks the bottle and pours plenty of the drink into it and offers one to Eddie.

Eddie takes it with a small ‘thank you’, and shuffles over to their couch, patting the seat next to him to invite Richie over.

Too obvious, Richie’s mind hisses at him, use a joke, do anything to distract him from your mood so he doesn’t asks questions.

‘We’re not eating McDonalds’ right now because I wanted to cook you spaghetti, Spaghetti’, Richie explains with a grin, watching as Eddie works himself up again. During a party where he was highly intoxicated, Eddie entrusted Richie that he cherishes the nickname ‘Eds’, but he still absolutely despises the nickname Spaghetti.

‘Fuck you’, he responds with so much conviction that Richie blanches for a second, a stab of sadness straight to the heart, until he sees Eddie’s own teasing smile.

‘And anyway, you’re going to cook? I would love to be able to have a kitchen. Remember how you burned an oven pizza when we were kids?’ He adds dryly.

‘Oh Eds, you wound me. I was ten.’

‘Old enough to read a clock then.’ While chuckling, they both take a sip of their drink.

They fall back into their old pattern of ribbing and mocking, and Richie believes for a moment that he got away with his behavior. He’s not that lucky.

When the chuckling subsides, Eddie fixes Richie with a stern look, his hand falling on top of Richie’s knee.

‘Rich, you hate cooking. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.’

He knock the glass of wine back completely to the last drop, gulping it down in an effort to get drunk. ‘Will you get off my back already?’

That was a mistake, Richie never talks to Eddie that way, especially not for something so insignificant.

Eddie’s face hardens, not angry or upset, but determined, and that tells Richie that he’s not backing down now, it’s not in his nature.

‘Now I’m sure somethings wrong. Was it Steve, did he push you again to go on tour? You declined that once before, he needs to accept it.’

Richie slams the glass on the coffee table a little too harshly, while knocking Eddie’s hand of his knee and scrambling up from the sofa to pace up and down.

‘It’s not Steve, drop it Eddie I mean it. I don’t wanna talk about it.’

The lack of jabs is disturbing, so Eddie is not giving up, following Richie and attempting to hug him. Richie rejects the hug, and huffs as he storm through the backdoor into the yard to cool himself off.

The last thing he wants is to upset Eddie, but he has to be alone to get his mind in order, and maybe to wallow in self-pity.

Eddie trudges on the patio behind him, not allowing him to gain a second of peace. All traces of teasing disappeared and any underlying worry is now visible on the surface. Richie lights a cigarette, something he distanced himself from as soon as Eddie returned in his life, his fingers trembling harshly making it hard to light it.

A scowl is omnipresent on Eddie’s face, his lips tilted in distain, waving away the smoke with his hand despite Richie not having even lit it yet. Tears tingle to escape but Richie stubbornly fights then, but even he can tell that Eddie notices them. He loathes crying in front of others, Eddie not being an exception, and now it’s even worse because he’s striving to pretend that he’s good.

‘Come on Rich. What’s wrong with you today?’ Eddie questions, itching to grab the cigarette from Richie and disposing of it.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?’ Richie begins hysterically. He wishes Eddie would let him be, so that he’s blind to all of the bad things that make Richie Richie. His mind is firing solutions to the situation, and way that he can change the subject.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, you’re acting like your mother, following me around all the time, demanding to know what’s wrong with me, I can have some free time of my own you know?’

The moment the words fly out of his mouth, Richie aches to swallow them back in. He hankers to beat them to dust, set them on fire and then bury them so deep that no one ever lays eyes on them again.

Eddie’s face turns, the scowl evaporating and leaving a defeated face in it’s wake. The tears that were building a minute ago dry up too, and the cigarette falls uselessly to the ground. ‘Eds, I’m so so sorry’, Richie tries, his nails digging in his palm at his self-hatred, his trash-mouth once again getting him in trouble.

Not looking at him, Eddie stares at a far away spot near the back of their garden, silent and still. Richie briefly considers begging on his knees for forgiveness, and spout out a one-liner, or explaining what got him so bothered, but none of that comes close to the apology Eddie deserves.

‘Fine, fuck off then’, Eddie mutters, turning on his heels and disappearing in the house, banging the patio door shut in rage.

Richie sniffles, feeling stupider than he has ever felt in his life. He inhales deeply to stop the tears, having no right to cry himself now, and scurry’s to catch up to his boyfriend.

The house is silent, no Eddie anywhere in sight, and his shoes are missing too. When Richie checks the cabinet where all their keys reside, he observes that the front-, and car-keys are missing. Eddie left, and Richie is clueless as to where he is.

‘Shit’, he says, the panic building and building until every pore of his being is filled with a negative energy.

The urge to hit himself over the head is astounding, but he resists it in favor of grabbing his phone and calling Eddie.

Ironic, considering the reason Richie got pissed off was because Eddie gave him no space. The phone rings three times before Richie realizes that the ringing is coming from inside the house, placed on the kitchen counter top, odd since Eddie never travels without it.

Most likely Eddie put it there to show Richie there’s no point in calling him, and Richie nearly screams in frustration. He’s so fucking stupid.

He decides to try Bill instead, scrolling trough every contact until he finds it, and then stops. Bill might be Eddie’s best friend, but there’s no way Eddie would pay him a visit or discus this with him. He’s an a grade idiot about relationship, and anyway, Eddie only has conversations about his mom with one person.

Richie clicks out of Bill’s contact and seeks out Bev’s, the picture of her smiling face with sunglasses on greeting him. He’s in for an earful with Bev he knows, but if it helps him find Eddie, Richie is willing to endure it.

She answers the phone after the second dial, her breathing heavy yet she’s laughing too.

‘Ben hold on one second, it’s Richie.’

‘Hey Bev’, Richie maffles, leaning his back against the wall and tilting his head upwards. If only the day would start over.

‘No Nicknames? Okay what did you do?’ Bev asks him straight to the point, no beating around the bush.

‘I messed up.’ Richie confesses, holding his breath to wait for Bev’s answer. She halts for a second, then says; ‘Honey, you’re kind of an idiot, I’m going to need more information than that.’

‘Badly. I told Eddie that he was acting just like his mother.’ Repeating the words only hammer in Richie’s head how much he fucked up, how asshole of him it was to say such a thing.

‘Oh Richie. Why did you do that?’

‘I was upset, and I don’t know. There’s no excuse. But he ran off and took the car and I don’t know where he is, has he called you?’, he begs, a mantra in his sounding ‘please, please.’ He will never forgive himself if something happened to Eddie and it was his fault.

‘No he hasn’t’, Bev groans. ‘Make this right Richie, you know how sensitive a subject this is.’

‘Yeah I know, thanks Bev. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Oh hey Richie, maybe you can check out the lake? I think he jogs there.’ Without thanking her, Richie abruptly ends the call, rushing for their other car. Of course the lake, how did he not think of that?

Barely bothering to close the car door, Richie is already speeding away, until he drives on the main road. Traffic is jammed in L.A, moving an inch in 15 minutes, as it often it, unconcerning about the hurry Richie is under.

He bangs his hands against the steering wheel, and allows himself one yell in the confinements of his car, to let all the frustrated energy out, the scream galloping in the vehicle. A woman’s head whirls his way from the car beside him, a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raising.

Richie laughs awkwardly, gesturing his hands in front of him. ‘Traffic, what can you do huh?’ He mouths, The woman merely breathes through her nose and returns her attention to the cars in front of her, ignoring his antics as best she can.

It remains embarrassing between them up to the intersection where they split up, Richie taking a U-turn. The five minute drive from there to home took him twenty minutes today.

The lake-park in question is one that Richie only tagged along for once, back when he promised Eddie to jog along side him every so often, but after that first time and Richie not being able to move for a day, he gave up that idea.

Still, he locates it fairly easy, a small lake surrounded by trees and walking trails with a huge parking lot attached to it. Seriously, Richie bets that the parking lot is bigger than the actual park.

Richie misses the car Eddie occupied, but since it’s such a large space, that means nothing, and so he parks, and sets out to find him.

A cold breeze washes over, causing him to shiver and clench his jacket tighter over himself. He hopes Eddie took a jacket as well.

After an intensive search, Richie finally descries Eddie, sitting on the park bench that he covered in his overalls. Forgetting the situation for an instant, Richie chuckles, the whole thing so Eddie that his heart soars and sings.

The grass crunches under his feet as he approaches, loud enough apparently that Eddie is alerted and glances Richie’s way. He doesn’t smile or states anything, he just monitors Richie and what he does.

On the way here, Richie’s mind was so occupied that he forgot to think of what to say when he saw Eddie again, and now he’s coming up blank, the only words that mull in his head are related to an apology, and proving to Eddie that he knows he fucked up.

‘Eds, I’m so, so sorry.’ Richie tries, still two steps away from where Eddie is seated, unsure if he’s allowed to come any closer. He balances himself from the tip of his toes to the ball of his foot, rocking back and forth. He would love to humor Eddie, but that might not go down well, and another fight, no matter how mundane, is the last thing they need right now.

‘It’s not enough of an apology and I know that I’m just so sorry and I wish I would have never said it.’

‘She didn’t care about me you know?’ Eddie interrupts him, starting a whole new conversation that Richie did not expect they we’re going to have.

‘Sure, she loomed over my shoulder at every turn and asked how I felt every fucking day, but she didn’t care. What she cared about was being portrayed as this godsend and a way to do that was by making me ill, but if I died she would have been fine with that, that’s another to way to gain attention.’

Richie inches closer, dropping down next to Eddie but refraining himself from touching him, because he uncertainty loomed in the back of his mind.

‘I love you Richie, even when you’re a fucking asshole, and I’d rather you didn’t die, even though right now I’d really like to yell at you. I’m not her.’

With a startle chortle, Richie nods his head in agreement. ‘I’d let you, I deserve it. ’ Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing Richie lightly, not enough to hurt or push him off the bench, no more like a friend type of punch.

‘No you don’t. You’re a dumb ass sometimes and can be absolutely infuriating, but I shouldn’t have pushed you so much in the first place.’

‘I cherish that you care so much about me Eds, I wasn’t ready to talk, but that gave me no right to say such a thing You’re nothing like her, you don’t even resemble her at all, not even if you tried. I was bottling shit up again and I avoided the subject, but really I needed to be honest with you. I hope you can forgive me.’ Eddie merely shrugs, the small smile playing on his features when he looks up at Richie again giving him away.

Tentatively, Richie adds; ‘I guess I’m usually that pushes I you know what I mean, both in our relationship and me and your mother’s.’

The joke strikes the jackpot, Eddie snorting a hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelieve. ‘And I assumed your jokes couldn’t get any worse than those you performed when you started.’

‘Rude.’

‘You know what’s rude? Your boyfriend turning you into a laughing stock at Saturday night live, I know your moves bitch, and I’m onto you.’ Eddie jabs back, his bite and fiery spirit back on board.

Their lips connect, Richie pouring all his feelings and emotions into, conveying the many apologies he hadn’t spoken out loud. Eddie reciprocates enthusiastically, his hands sliding up in Richie’s hair, winding around a curl and tugging until they separate.

‘You ever say something like that again and you won’t get away with it that easily okay dumb ass?’ Eddie baits, waiting for Richie’s agreement.

‘Oh, and also, I get tv privileges, I want to decide what we’re going to watch, when we’re going to watch it.’

‘Agreed’, Richie relents, so happy that they’re well on their way to making up, that he would say yes to anything.

‘Now lets go home, my ass has been sitting here for way to long and it’s freezing off.’ Eddie states, standing up and seizing a hold of his cardigan.

‘Oh no, not my Spaghetti’s ass, what ever would I do without it?’

Entering the house again when they make it home, Eddie clasps his phone in his hands, frowning at the missed calls Bev left him.

‘Hey, why is Beverly calling me?’

‘Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be able to go visit for a while, I may or may not have ended the call without saying goodbye.’

#reddie #reddie fight #hurt comfort #making up #My writing #richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #Richie x Eddie #eddie kaspbrack #eddie kaspbrak imagine #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2 #mentioned Beverly Marsh

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Of Dust and Ashes: Chapter 30

Hello! I intended to have this up yesterday morning (on time!) except I was off in the middle of nowhere. The joys of family visits.

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 30: Leaving

“Can we take a break?” Rachel asked for the fourth time that morning.

They answered “No.” in unison.

Stopping wasn’t an option. It was warmer that morning than it was the morning prior and they were thankful for that. Thick white clouds hung low in the sky, tinted with the rising sun. A few fat snowflakes fell, threatening to call for more.

Under normal circumstances, Dee would have loved the possibility of a heavy snowfall. The snow wasn’t perfectly white but it was white enough. If she pretended that it was just some dirt or ash from a fire nearby, it was white enough.

A fresh snowfall covered the world around them until it melted some or real life came and disturbed it and every time that happened, Dee clung to it. It hid away the horrors of broken glass, covered corpses and auto wrecks just the same. It blanketed everything.

Dee sent a silent prayer to no one in particular that it would wait to snow until they made it to the truck. Right now, fresh snow could mean trouble. They were already taking enough of a risk in keeping to the main roads but it was easier walking, allowing them to make better time.

Still, it left them in the open in exchange. The last thing she wanted was fresh snow for them to leave obvious tracks in. Clint said he was pretty sure that the followers of King Jacob had abandoned the city but that only could give so much comfort.

It was a simple case of risk management. Trust hadn’t wanted to eat much that morning. He had little interest in water and lacked some of the energy he had the night prior. They told themselves it was the pain, they wouldn’t want to eat in his condition either.

But there was that voice, in the back of the mind, telling them that he didn’t have much time. They needed to hurry.

There was a chance that Sasha would refuse to help the dog. She wasn’t a vet. They needed her to help him though. Dee needed Trust. Sasha would help. She had to.

In her heart, Dee knew that Clint wasn’t above withholding aid to force her hand.

Clint looked back and Smiled at her. They walked single file, with Rachel in the middle and Dee in the rear.

“How much longer?” Rachel asked. “My feet hurt.”

“A few more hours.” Clint answered.

Rachel looked like she was about to say something, complain some more. Dee impulsive reached down and grabbed a chunk of old snow. Parts crumbled in her hand, some stuck to the fabric of her glove. Without thought, she chucked it at Rachel.

It landed with a light thump, falling apart on contact. Rachel’s head snapped back. Before she could say anything, Dee gave her stern look, willing her to mind her tongue.

They only stopped walking when the baby fussed. Dee insisted that Rachel try and nurse. Rachel protested the idea but Dee refused to give her a bottle until she tried.

The tiny infant struggled to latch. Dee had expected it and reassured Rachel as much as she could. There were layers and coats in the way, she was stressed and the baby was cold. Once she settled and the tiny body started soaking in the body heat directly from Rachel’s skin however, she made a better effort.

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Rachel hissed as she fixed her shirt and snached the bottle from Clint. “This isn’t warm enough.”

“It’s as warm as it’s getting. We don’t have time to boil water.” Clint said before starting ahead again. Break time was over, the babe could drink from a bottle while they walked.

“I know it felt like a failed attempt.” Dee walked next to Rachel. “It wasn’t, though. She latched and she got something. It takes time but your body will respond as long as you keep trying. Don’t give up.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“Not with that attitude.” It was a phrase Dee had once said to her children every time they said they couldn’t do something. Somehow, though Rachel wasn’t really all that much younger than her, it felt right to say it.

~~~~~<3

“Why are we getting off the road?” Rachel had been quiet most of the walk. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to complain, she did. They were simply walking at such a pace that she was almost always winded.

Dee was thankful for Rachel’s silence. She wanted to believe that Clint wouldn’t just leave the woman behind or that she wouldn’t let him. The truth was that she wasn’t sure of either of those things though.

“The truck is up ahead, off the road.” Clint answered.

“I don’t see it.”

Dee rolled her eyes. “That’s the point.”

“Why go through all that trouble?” Rachel asked as they got closer. “It’s not like someone’s going to steal it.”

“Never count on that.” Dee reminded her.

“Get this through your head, unless what you’ve got is locked up where no one else can get to it- never count on that. If you want to keep what you’ve got, always, always count on there being someone else who wants to steal it.”

“It’s not like I’ve got anything to steal.” Rachel grumbled as Clint uncovered the truck.

“You’ve got a coat. Boots too.” Clint answered.

“Your body, too.” Dee added. They all knew what was done to at least some of the women back in the city under the rule of King Jacob. “You never know who is going to want to take what you’ve got.”

Clint carefully nestled Trust on the floor behind the driver’s seat. The dog gave a small whine of protest at being jostled around. Still, his tail tumped against the seat as he licked Clint’s arm.

“Just a bit longer.” He whispered, scratching the dog’s neck.

“Careful not to bump him.” Dee said, helping Rachel into the backseat of the truck. It was small and cramped. Being an older model, the truck’s backseat was more of an afterthought than a proper seat but it did the job.

“You care more about that dog than me.” Rachel was more talking to herself but that didn’t stop Dee from answering.

“I do.”

The truck roared to life as Dee slammed the passenger door closed. The sound of the engine was music to her ears. As Clint pulled onto the ice covered road, Dee relaxed into the seat.

It didn’t take long for her to doze off. Between the movement of the truck, the sound of the road and the warmth that was soon pouring from the vents, it lulled her into a peaceful sleep. She shifted to get more comfortable, causing her back to pop. Clint chuckled to himself and the sound carried her off to sleep.

~~~~~<3

When the truck stopped, Dee jerked awake. “What?”

“We’re here.” Clint reached over with a reassuring hand, squeezing her thigh and offered her a smile. He knew every bit of what she was feeling. It was always a shock to fall asleep while in transit while on a mission.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rachel asked as she keeped between the seats.

“Yeah.” Clint answered before turning his attention back to Dee. “Stay here with her. I’ll talk to Sasha then I’ll come back out.”

“You make it sound like it’s not safe.” Rachel complained.

Clint paid her no mind as he got out of the truck. The force of the door slamming shut rocked them. He found it was easier to deal with Rachel if he ignored her. Dee’s ability to reason with the damned woman and shut her up was beyond his amazement. She would be a fine asset to any team and he was thankful to have her on his side.

“Sasha!” He called as he walked along the front of the building, making a point to be in view of the windows. “It’s us.”

There was movement of the curtains where he assumed she was watching him. He walked slowly toward the main door. Sasha was lucky, though this was a clinic it lacked the large panes of plate glass windows and doors that many modern clinics would have.

It was a cabin style building with thick walls and few windows. Icicles hung from the roof, showing evidence of the warmer few days they had enjoyed between the winter snowfalls. Newer buildings were often designed in a way to prevent them for safety but this building wasn’t newer at all. It had thick walls and a heavy wooden door, painted the color of berries and with only a small window.

Clint’s knuckles rapped against that heavy wooden door. “Sasha! If you don’t open up, I’ll come inside my way.”

The sound of something heavy being moved across the floor was muffled by the door. He didn’t like that sound. He didn’t like not knowing what was on the other side of the door. There wasn’t anything he had seen that made it look like anyone other than them had been to the Clinic but that didn’t always mean anything. In the back of his mind, he wondered if perhaps somehow the late King Jacob’s men had found this place and was lying in wait for him.

The door opened a crack, revealing Sasha’s tired face. She looked better than when they had first seen her. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and looked to have been brushed recently. Her skin was blotchy and had more color to it. It was amazing what a few meals, heat and a little support could give a person.

“You came back.” She said.

“I promised we would.”

“Did you bring more food?”

“Not yet. I- we need your help.”

“With what?”

“Trust- he got shot. I don’t think he’s doing that good. It looks like it’s probably just a flesh wound- I hope it is at least.”

“I’m not a vet.” She protested like he had predicted she would.

“That dog, he’s everything to Dee. You take a look. You do the best you can for him or you never see us again.”

“What if I can’t save him? What if he dies anyway? Then you’ll still leave me to die?”

“You have my word that we won’t. All I’m asking for is for you to give it your best shot. Just try, that’s all.”

Sasha signed. “Bring him in.”

“There’s another thing-”

“God, what else?”

“You remember the baby?” Clint turned and waved for Dee and Rachel, signaling for them to head inside.

“Is she alright?”

“She’s fine. Doing great actually.”

“Thank god.” She interrupted.

“She’s probably good enough for you to give her some of her shots. Anyway, we have her mother with us.”

“I thought you said she was captive in the city?” Sasha opened the door wider as her eyes flicked over to Dee and the new woman.

“She was. King Jacob is dead now. The city has been freed.”

Dee gave Sasha a warm smile as she slipped through the doorway. Rachel hung back, clutching the baby to her and watching carefully. Clint held his arm out to her, calling her forward. She didn’t want to get closer but she pushed herself closer.

She didn’t know what else to say, so she said “Hi.”

“This is Rachel.” Clint added, placing a reassuring hand on the small woman’s back, much to Rachel’s surprise. “Let’s go in and talk?”

It wasn’t a question of if they could go into Sasha’s space, though it was worded as one. Rachel was very sure that Clint was the one in charge. Sasha had very little say in the matter. It was only presented as if ‘no’ was an option for her. If what they had said was true, if Clint and Dee had given Sasha their word that they would supply her, she needed to keep them happy.

Sasha opened the door wider and stepped aside. The inside of the Clinic was warm, but dark. It felt good to be warm. Rachel hadn’t been truly warm in a long time. She hadn’t thought that it could feel better than being in the truck with the heat pouring out of the vents but it did.

“I’ve been trying to save wood, getting it nice and hot in here at night and keeping a low fire going during the day- mostly just embers to keep the smoke as light as possible so no one finds me.”

“Have you seen anyone else since we left?” Clint asked as she locked the door behind them. “Let me.” He said when she went to push the heavy arm chair in front of it again.

“Yesterday, a few men ran by on the main road while I was outside. They didn’t see me or even look down the road.”

“Are you sure?” Clint tensed instantly. “Why were you near the mainroad?”

“I found- Dr. Walker had a gun in his office. I was walking through the woods- along the road so I wouldn’t get lost. It was a warmer day so I figured if I got lucky, I’d see an animal or something. If I got luckier, maybe I could shoot it? I don’t know.”

“No, that’s good. And staying in the woods is good too. You did good.” He sighed, adding to his mental list of things to bring down to Sasha. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Not sense them.” She answered. “I should check the baby- and Rachel.”

“Not yet.” Clint answered.

Dee sat with Rachel on the large couch in the waiting room, watching. She knew that Clint was bartering, making sure Sasha remembered that he was in charge. Sasha longed to do something that reminded her of what was before the snap. She longed for something normal and to pretend for a few minutes that none of this had happened. Dee also knew that Clint was using that as a reward for after she’d done what they needed.

“I’m going to go back out and bring Trust in. He’s been shot. You are going to look at him and do what you can for him. Then, and only then, do you get to check out the baby and Rachel.”

Sasha sighed as she watched Clint move the chair again. She didn't want to treat a dog. It was an insult to her education. She wasn't a goddamn veterinarian. She was a nurse.

When Clint returned with the dog in his arms, she had to admit he did look in rough shape. She wasn't blinded to how much he meant to Dee. There was the simple fact that she needed them hanging over her head.

"Put him on the floor in an exam room. Hold onto him, don't let him bite me." She couldn't believe she was going to do it.

“Thank you.” She turned at the sound of Dee’s voice, tearing her eyes away from Clint as he walked back to his truck.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Elizabeth fussed in Rachel’s arms, drawing Sasha’s eyes to her. “Let me check her while he gets the dog?”

Rachel’s eyes darted to Dee as she opened her mouth. Dee spoke faster however.

“No.” She said. “Not until after Trust.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Sasha signed. “you all are."

Dee crossed the room, to the door when she saw Clint approaching. She held it open for him, taking the chance to give Trust a scratch behind his ears as they went by. When they were inside, she pushed the heavy armchair once again in front of the door.

Clint put the dog on a cushioned exam table. It was clear Sasha didn't approve but he paid her no mind. What mattered was if he approved. She needed him far more than he needed her and they both knew it. Power was in his hands.

"How much do you think he weighs?" Sasha asked.

"Why?"

"I'm going to sedate him. I don't feel like getting bit."

"Is that safe?" Dee asked from the doorway.

"There's always a risk." Clint answered. "Wait with Rachel? I don't want her alone."

Dee nodded but lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer. With a sigh, she disappeared.

"Probably around 80 pounds?" Clint said, answering Sasha's earlier question.

"Hold him." Sasha asked as she drew liquid from a vial into a syringe. "I'm doseing like I would for a kid. I can add more if I need to but…"

"Giving too little you can correct. Too much you can't." Clint offered and Sasha nodded.

His arms wrapped around the body of the dog. He moved Trust's head to rest on his shoulder, snout behind his neck. If he lunged from the needle poke, chances are he wouldn't get anyone.

Sasha gave the dose and Trust flinched, offering only a whimper of protest. It took a few short minutes for the medication to relax him and his eyes to slip closed. Clint tapped the dog's nose a few times, checking for a reaction.

"I think he's out."

Clint agreed. "I'll keep an eye on his breathing."

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @alcoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @winterisakiller, @missaphrodite23, @j-u-s-t-4, @toozmanykids, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @tnystrk-exe

#clint barton x ofc #clint barton fanfiction #Clint Barton x Female Reader #clint barton x reader #clint x reader

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meetthetank · 4 years ago

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Cruciamen Chapter 4: Salt Statues

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), Emil (NieR: Automata), Kainé (Nier) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104214/chapters/64353769

A2 comes to the realization that they hate sand. It’s gritty, nasty, it gets into their clothes every time the wind blows. The sun reflects off the dunes and into their eyes without fail, constantly blinding them. Most heinous of all the sand’s sins is the fact that it’s practically boiling in the midday sun and burning the bottom of their feet. For a brief moment, they consider wearing shoes of some kind. Instead they resolve to bitch at Kaine for sending them out here, looking for salt of all things, as part of their repayment.

The witch’s ability to mend A2’s injuries was far more than they had expected. Within a couple of days the wound left by Hegel’s energy blast had been reduced from a searing pain to a dull throb. All the bruises, cuts, and cracked bones they hadn’t known about were patched together with skilled, but brittle hands. When she wasn’t flying at A2 with two wicked swords, Kaine seemed like an unassuming old woman. Her hands shook when pouring tea; she couldn’t stand up for very long without complaining about her back. She would look out of the windows of her hut wistfully from time to time, her sunken purple eyes betraying an age beyond what her body could present.

That, and Kaine had all the ornery fury of an elder from back home. If “respect your elders” hadn’t been drilled into their being from the day they were born, A2 would have told the old witch to shove it. But A2 can’t in good conscience refuse someone far older than them, and someone who is giving them food, shelter, and medicine.

So they trudge through the scorching desert looking for ancient brickwork jutting out of the dunes. Kaine described these structures as easily spotted from a distance, the only splash of color for miles, but A2 has yet to see anything other than sand and sand.

Movement on a dune in the distance catches their attention. They instinctively reach for their sword’s hilt and crouch low to the ground. The heat of the sand burns their face and hands, but they grit their teeth and bear the pain to get the drop on whatever demon or predator could be lurking about in such an inhospitable place. They peek over the dune inch by inch, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Without any camouflage like foliage or rocks, their pinkish hair would attract the creature’s attention if they move too fast.

As their eyes adjust to the sunlight they can make out more than one humanoid figure, but just as their heart sinks they see at least three or four smaller ones stumbling through the sand to keep up with the rest of the group. Humans, a group of ten by their count, with what looks like everything they own strapped to their backs. Even the children carry heavy loads that make their legs buckle with each step. A woman catches one of the kids as they stumble down the dune and gives him a loving pat on the head before taking his hand in hers.

A2 debates on doing what they normally do when coming across rival vagrants, doing what earned them a bad reputation along their erratic path. It’s the kids in rags that gives them pause. Those children can’t be more than ten years old and they’re forced to suffer conditions like these.

So A2 lets them continue on. They have their own issues to deal with anyway.

With a frustrated sigh, A2 takes to the desert skies. They already did a sweep from the air before, but there isn’t any harm in trying again. Kaine won’t let them back into the hut if they don’t come back with her salt, after all.

Sure enough, the ruins they’re looking for were sitting right under their nose the whole time. Red brickwork like Kaine described juts out of the sand. It would be impossible to miss, that is, if A2 wasn’t stupid. They can’t believe they looked over the white spire of some kind of cathedral as many times as they did.

A2 lands on the ground next to the spire and the building it sits on, kicking up a cloud of sand with the beating of their wings. They screw their eyes shut and shake their head back and forth as they transform back to their human form to try and get the sand out of their eyes. When that doesn’t work they furiously rub their eyes with the back of their hand, and then their thumbs. That seems to do the trick, but they hiss when their eyes are still itchy. They huff quietly, resolving to blink the remaining particles away.

The ruins around them are unlike anything they’ve ever seen. Great walls of identical bricks emerge from the sand like the spines of a great beast submerged in the dunes. Spikes of rusted, corroded metals mark the remains of buildings that had their bricks striped away by sand and time. Whatever used to live here had a unique way of building. They were able to keep their buildings standing long after their people either died out or left the city to rot—though those people must not have been that amazing if they had all died anyway.

A2 rubs their face as they look around for… actually they don’t really know what they’re looking for. They’re supposed to be looking for salt, but where in this place would that be? All of the buildings that still have all four walls are filled with sand, or totally empty where parts are above ground. If they were going to have to dig for salt deposits, Kaine could have given them a damn shovel or something.

In the center of a cluster of ruins, a strange shape sticks out of the sand. It looks like a small pillar of marble, but that shouldn’t be possible considering how soft the rock is. The desert would have swallowed it long ago, but it stands in defiance of time or nature. A2 strides over to the little piece of marble to get a better look at it. As they close in, they see five appendages sticking out of the top. It looks like a hand reaching out for the sun, or cupping it in its hand. Maybe this was a statue of some kind?

They reach out and grab the statue’s hand, its sharp, crystalline edges digging into their palm. With a small tug the hand snaps of the arm. A2 staggers back, gasping and almost dropping the statue’s hand.

“What in the…”

A2 stares at the hand, at the desperate way its fingers curl into claws, at the subtle musculature in its palm and wrist, at the ripples on its fingertips…

“Th-... This is… “

With a dry gulp, they turn the hand over to look at where it broke off. Just as they dread, there’s bone, muscle, veins and tendons. The same thing is inside the remaining arm. A clean, but geometric break across the crystal faultlines, with minute anatomical detail rendered in salt. A2 even sees the marrow running through the center of the two arm bones. Their hands shake, barely able to place the piece of salt into the roughspun bag Kaine had loaned them.

They dig through the sand, uncovering more and more of the statue. The arm connects to a shoulder, the shoulder to a neck, and the neck to a twisted screaming face. Whoever this used to be was now a moment in time, frozen in the throes of pain and terror. The realization of what was happening is clear on the poor soul’s face as they reach for the heavens for help that will never come.

A2 takes a piece of the statue’s arm and its head, stuffing them both unceremoniously into the sack.

The contents of A2’s bag are emptied out onto the wooden table as Kaine looks on with little interest.

“What the hell is this?” they ask with venom lingering behind their words.

“Salt,” Kaine responds as she picks up and examines the hand A2 brought back.

“I know it’s salt,” A2 snaps. “Why is it shaped like a person?”

“Because it used to be one.”

A2 knew the answer when they found the statue at first, but hearing Kaine say it with the same indifference that she’d use when identifying an herb unnerves them to the point of silence.

“Wh… How?! What the hell did you send me to dig up?!”

Kaine sighs, her shoulders sagging as she shuffles over to a cabinet and produces a small wooden hammer and a glass jar before sitting at the table across from A2. She picks up the salt hand and eyes it with disinterest before setting it down in front of her.

“... They’re leftovers from an event that nearly destroyed the world. The Great Dying.”

“What?!”

“A sickness tore through the ancient civilizations that existed thousands of years ago. It turned the people who were infected by it into salt piece by piece until their whole body was nothing but a white statue.”

“That… “ A2 can only stare at Kaine with their mouth agape. It is the one thing that they actually remember from their history education. They guess only the stories of great atrocities and mass death could capture the attention of the rambunctious cub that only wanted to play with wooden swords.

“Those salt deposits out in the desert are what's left of that disaster,” Kaine says,

“What the fuck could you possibly want with salt made from people?” There’s no malice in A2’s voice, just simple curiosity and confusion.

She shrugs. “It’s good quality salt.”

With the force A2 saw the day they met her, Kaine slams the hammer into the table, shattering the hand into dozens of shards. Again and again she crushes the salt down into a powder, then brushes it into the jar.

A2 grimaces, “Yeah, but… It’s… people.”

Again, Kaine shrugs. “It sells well. People around these parts have always used things like this. I remember there was a town that mummified corpses in honey, then sold the honey as a cure for all kinds of diseases.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m fucking serious,” Kaine says with a barking laugh, “You’d be amazed what people think will cure shit like limp dick and cholera. I’m old, I’ve seen some shit.”

A2 laughs along with her, albeit with a twinge of hesitation. They’ve eaten a lot of things, but they’ve always steered clear of consuming human flesh. But this isn’t flesh anymore, it’s salt. And the human has been dead for thousands of years. So…

A2 stops thinking about it too much.

“So, you sell this stuff?” they ask, twisting a salinified chunk in their fingers.

“Yeah, but some of it I keep for other shit. Some potions and salves have to use this stuff specifically. Regular salt doesn’t cut it. That and it makes some damn fine cured meats.”

“You shouldn’t talk about the dead like that… “ Emil says, setting his long overcoat on a hook.

A2 doesn’t think they’ll ever get used to seeing his body covered head to toe in bandages like that, but at least this time they don’t gawk at him like a fish gasping for air.

Kaine scoffs, “What are they gonna do, salt me to death?”

“You should know better than to speak ill of the dead. It’s bad luck!” Emil huffs, putting his hands on his hip bones.

“Well I guess that explains my whole life then,” She mutters bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Silence passes between the three as what A2 brought back seems to fill the air with dread. Minutes tick by before Emil finally speaks.

“The Great Dying was horrible,” he says, his head hanging low. “One day everything was fine, but the next… It was like the whole world came crashing down in an instant. People tried to leave cities and towns to escape it but… You can’t outrun something like that.”

“You’re talking about it as if you were there,” A2 mutters.

He holds A2’s gaze with sad, lilac eyes. “People looked for something to blame. They hunted demons, dragons… each other. The Theocracy and their religion gained a lot of followers desperate for some sort of salvation or comfort.”

“That’s enough, Emil.” Kaine grunts and gathers up the chunks of salt. “What’s done is done. We can’t be burdened by the past our whole damn lives.”

A2’s chest tightens at those words, as if they were directed at them. Their eyes drift to their sword leaning against the wall and the black feather dangling from its hilt.

He’d be ashamed of them.

#nier automata #nier fanfiction #fantasy au #a2 #nier emil #kaine nier #Tanks fics

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thepeanutbutterwizard · 4 years ago

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Ninjago/Avatar (NinjAvatar?) au P3

What I have worked out of Koko’s backstory, and maybe an angsty awkward family reunion

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5)

So how did a nonbender from the Earth Kingdom wind up in the Southern Water Tribe you ask? Hold your ostrich horses, I’m getting there! Koko was born on Kyoshi Island (I’m not gonna try and come up with a Ninjago equivalent of Kyoshi bc she is a Queen and I love her. Probably would have realized I liked girls a lot sooner if my parents had let me watch A:TLA when it was airing tbh.) Her dad was a scholar from the Academy in Ba Sing Se (can’t remember if it had a fancy name or not) who was writing a paper on Avatar Kyoshi, and her mom was the leader of the Kyoshi’s Warriors at the time. They fell in love, got married, had Koko, and were happy for a few years!

And then they got sick and died (debated whether I wanted to give Koko two moms for a long time, but I don’t have the energy to come up with two oc’s, and I wasn’t about to bury any gays)

Koko trained with the Kyoshi Warriors for a few years (idk how old they are when they start, but lets just say young enough for Koko to become a very skilled warrior at a very young age) but she was always drawn to her fathers old text...scrolls?(pretty sure that they only have scrolls and not books in the A”TLA world. If I say books at all in this, I mean scrolls btw) fascinated by the history of the world. She wanted to be able to go to the same Academy her father did, but there was one problem: money.

So Koko set out into the world, looking for work so she could raise money and putting her training to the test. She mostly took security and guarding type work, and took every opportunity to read new scrolls and learn more about history. And then she took a job helping to take relief supplies to the Southern Water Tribe after a Fire Nation raid (that probably never happened in the show, but I Do What I Want).

Seeing what they were going through, seeing how defeated and broken the people in the Southern Water Tribe were, really shook Koko. Kyoshi’s Island had never been involved in the war, and she had always taken jobs that avoid going near any active war zones, so this was the first time she had actually seen just how bad it was. That was when she met Maya, who had just lost her mother in the latest raid. Her father had passed when she was a baby.

Koko decided that these people needed help more than she needed to go to the Academy, so she decided to put her plans on hold and asked the chief how she could help them, free of charge. She stayed in the village for a little while, helping them rebuild. Maya let Koko stay with her, and the two became close friends. When Koko learned that Maya was a waterbender, she made it a personal mission to help Maya become a great waterbender. There were no experienced waterbenders left in the tribe, and practicing was risky (they never knew if a raid was going to happen or if the Fire Nation was watching them).

Koko taught Maya how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior, and she had read a few things about waterbending out of curiosity, so Maya has her own weird self-taught waterbending style. That may or may not become a plot point later.

Everything with Ray and Garm happens, and Koko lets go of her dreams of the Academy and settles down with her family. She frequently left the South Pole for short trips, mostly for to get different supplies to make things easier on the tribe, occasionally she finds toys or games she can bring back for the kids in the tribe to enjoy, and she’s always on the lookout for new scrolls (yes, she has found some waterbending scrolls. Like, two or three. Yes, she stole all of them. She was just returning them to where they belong after all)

I am debating on whether or not to have Lloyd find his animal companion bc one of the cool things that Koko brought back was a dragon egg. She didn’t know it was a real dragon egg when she found it. It hatched when Lloyd touched it, and the baby dragon immediately bonded with Lloyd (yes, it’s Ultra). I might might come up with a different way Lloyd and Ultra meet, but I like having it be fairly early on in Lloyd’s life bc its cute and having a flying companion animal early on makes it so much easier to keep things consistent with the plot beats I wanna hit from both shows. Maya waterbends a series of hidden tunnels in the snow for Ultra to hide in whenever the Fire Nation shows up. (the whole tribe knows about Ultra and love him, as long as he keeps his fire breathing under control)

When she and Garm figured out that Lloyd is the Avatar, (after they stopped panicking of course) they decided not to try and keep it from Lloyd until he was older (preferably not until he was like, 15 or 16). They told Ray and Maya and the chief so that way they had some people to lean on and help cover for Lloyd and keep his secret, and keep him from bending anything but water (didn’t stop him from messing with airbending in secret. He was never told about the Avatar, so he doesn’t make the connection. He just thinks its cool as heck, and then he and Kai and Nya each had their own element to use!). After a lot of discussion and worrying, Koko set out to try and learn everything she could about the Avatar.

And now back to the confrontation at the South Pole! Lloyd and Nya get back from setting off the flare (Nya wanted to see if she could find something in the ship to re-purpose and use in the village, and Lloyd was bored so he tagged along) and run right into an angry Maya and Garm. The kids are saved from a scolding however by a rapidly approaching Fire Nation ship. There isn’t enough time to get into one of the tunnels with Ultra, so Garm drags Lloyd and Nya (who’s covered in oil from the old ship) over to the wall away from where the ship is coming in and Maya waterbends them a little hidden room to hide in. (There is a peephole thing for them to see whats happening.)

The Fire Nation ship makes its dramatic entrance, destroying the wall and all that. Kai tries to charge Morro with a spear, but Maya catches him and holds him back before taking the lead in talking to Morro. Don’t ask me why Sorrla, the chief, doesn’t do it. Wu is there, but he’s just hanging out in the background a bit. Garm doesn’t notice his brother, partly bc he’s too far away, partly bc he’s focused on Maya, Kai, and Morro. Morro ends up saying that he’s in search of the Avatar, but decided to check out the Southern Water Tribe when he saw the flare.

Maya is internally panicking bc ‘this can’t be a coincidence, he must know something somehow’ but plays it cool. Kai wonders outloud what the Avatar is, which made Morro a bit suspicious bc how could someone not have heard the stories of the Avatar, and decides to threaten to burn the village down to see if Maya was bluffing about not knowing anything. Maya starts internally panicking more, bc burning down the village will not only, y’know, burn down the village, but it could very well reveal not only the Avatar, but his father, the ‘dead’ Fire Nation Prince as well. So Maya makes a tough choice.

When the firebenders in the crew get ready to burn the village down, (and Wu tries to covertly get Morro to, y’know, not burn the village down) Maya uses her waterbending to douse the guards flames, before turning herself over in trade for leaving the rest of her tribe alone. Garm has to hold Nya back, and another water tribe boy named Lar grabs Kai to hold him back as Maya is brought onto the ship in chains. As soon as the ship is far enough away, and they’re no longer being held back, Kai and Nya are pissed. They both yell at Garm for letting their mother get taken by the Fire Nation bc no-one comes back from the Fire Nation, until Garm tells them ‘we’re going to rescue her, and then we’re going to have an important conversation. Lloyd get your dragon.’

So a rescue scene happens. Maya gets free on the ship thanks to her training from Koko (and Garm and Ray taught the both of them about Fire Nation combat training), and then Kai, Nya, Lloyd, and Garm show up on Ultra. Lloyd and Nya both use their limited knowledge of waterbending to fight. Garm keeps his face covered and his hood up to hide his identity, and doesn’t use his firebending at all when they’re fighting on the ship. Kai doesn’t use his firebending either, but he does end up punching Morro if the face. Garm gets distracted and almost takes a nasty hit when he finally recognizes Wu, who’s mostly hanging back from the fight, and only stepping in to deflect something coming his way, or to subtly help Morro.

They get on Ultra and start to fly away, but Lloyd airbends to shatter a glacier to help cover them and deflect some projectiles coming at them, revealing that yes, he is the Avatar, and uncovering Garms face on accident. So now Wu knows that his brother is alive and is with the Avatar, who is a thirteen-year-old child.

As they fly off on Ultra, Garm and Maya tell the kids everything. They already knew that Ray was from the Fire Nation (when Kai started firebending they told the kids just enough to satisfy their curiosity and confusion), but now they tell them about how Ray and Garm wound up in the South Pole, why Koko’s been gone so long, and why they waited so long to tell them any of this. The kids are stunned, mb a little mad at first but they understand why these secrets had to be kept for so long, and Lloyd is scared. He just got blind-sided by a huge destiny and burden, and it’s terrifying.

After the talk, they set a course towards the North Pole. Even though Maya can teach Lloyd her own style of waterbending, she thinks it might be a good idea to have the Avatar learn some traditional waterbending, and the Northern Water Tribe is much more fortified and would be the safest place for him to learn, regardless of who teaches him. And so the journey begins...

#ninjago #ninjago avatar au #this is fun!!#i forgot how fun it was to write up au's

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simplysoriya · 4 years ago

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Reprieve from Chaos

A breath of fresh air was hard fought. Every breath in the midst of chaos was labored. After months embroiled in the turmoil of the Vale, seeing nightmares play out both in mind and in reality. Watching friends, family, and ideals unravel and fall apart was a daily occurance. Seeing pain became second nature. Every day was a new horror; people in cages awaiting their fate, the spirits of the dead ripped from their grave and fed upon, otherworldly creatures roaming the hills as their haunting counterparts scoured the skies. Vying for favor or power the Mogu and Mantid had swarmed and sowed destruction in their wake, making a bad situation nothing but worse. Every single day there was a new source of heartache, a new feeling of sinking as a place so peaceful was destroyed before their very eyes. The fighting had calmed, if only minorly, but the pain had remained fresh renewed by yet another harrowing event after another.

Soriya was grateful for the time away from the Vale, even if not for the reason. Kirollis’ wounds had been worse than they were able to treat with nothing but the triage tents and wartime supplies sent in. He needed treatment to stem the blood loss, made worse by the Mantid poison that replaced it. The fighting had yet to spill in the Jade Forest, and the Temple dedicated to the healing arts of Mistweaving- a discipline she praticed herself. Nowhere else in all of Pandaria would be better for recovery.

Yet even with sound reasoning she could not keep the pangs of guilt at bay. Every ounce of her being screamed to rejoin the fight. Her mind constantly flipped through each situation where she felt she made a difference out in the field, only to concede that without her aid things would be considerably worse. Every warrior she had healed enough to get back into the fight or back to safety, every enemy that she had faced herself, each effort to help fight back the darkness. Every second she spent away was another life lost because she was here, resting, relaxing, recharging- while those brave men and women put their lives on the line for what they believed in.

Silently she wished she could do the same. Even when she was there, doing everything she could, it never felt like enough. It never felt like the difference was made no matter how hard she tried. No matter how much of herself she poured into it. It did nothing to shake off the feeling that it wasn’t enough.

Gentle was the spring breeze as it passed through the ancient grove. Rustling the milky pink petals of cherry blossoms, coaxing them down to the ground from the endless canopy above like a snowstorm without the cold every time the wind whipped. Hoisted high by the ancient and mighty tree trunks that rose from the rolling emerald hills. Carrying the faint but ever constant aroma of freshly sheared lilacs mingled with vanilla and almonds through the picturesque woods.

Well-worn cobblestone path running through the mountains led to the secluded cliffside grove. Breaking off into walked-in dirt pathways that led deeper into the mystic cherry blossom fields of Pandaria’s Jade Forest. Locals still toiling away at keeping the grounds walked whimsically though as they finished their tasks dutily tending to the Arboretum.

It was serene there in the Arboretum as peaceful energy was cultivated and promoted as carefully as the tended area itself. A serenity that was lost on Soriya as she sat and stewed in everything that upset her over the last few months.

Lazily she leaned forward on the railing of a wooden bridge as the babble of the brooke below added to the atmosphere. Her forearms planted on the banister as she leaned forward with an absent and dull look in her eyes. Simply staring out to the cliffs that sat above the Great Sea, littered with long rocky spires that obstructed the horizon as Cloud Serpents young and old slithered through them.

More often than not a sight that would inspire a look of awe and wonder in the young woman who frequently travelled the world. Yet one of her favorite locales in all of Azeroth failed to bring a smile to that weary face.

The sound of footsteps behind her wasn’t enough to stir her from the thousand yard stare she wore.

“Your father mentioned I might find you here.” The voice of an elder Pandarian rasped in a gentle tone.

Long elven ears stood perked at attention as she recognized the voice as Grandmaster Zheng. Almost immediately Soriya stiffened her posture and stood up straight before she turned to meet the mild-mannered Pandarians gaze. Her head dipped down respectfully, shoulders following suit as her hands clasped together before her chest in a bow.

Resetting her posture the young monk paid him a quizzical look with a single auburn brow hoisted in surprise, “I didn’t know you were looking for me, if I had I would have stuck around the Temple.”

The Grandmaster chuckled softly as he shook his head, “I don’t mind excuses to stretch these old legs. Besides, you were far easier to find than the other times I’ve tried.” His words came gentle as he referenced her penchant for exploring. They had always shared a close relationship and Zheng had often taken an interest in her life outside of their order.

Drifting forward with slow and deliberate steps Grandmaster Zheng took purchase of the space next to her on the bridge. Resting his forearms against the banister much like she had just before as he looked out over the Cloud Serpents hatchery. “This is one of my favorite places in all of Pandaria. Have I told you that?”

“Mine too.” Soriya agreed as she remained facing the cherry blossom trees as she leaned her back against the railing.

“You certainly don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.” Zheng noted.

Soriya grew quiet a spell as her arms folded under her chest. Always did she try and focus on the positives, of the good, even in the worst of situations. But that stubborn belief was all but extinguished as she stared out silently. Not wishing to bring to attention all the harrowing events that Pandaria had seen recently.

Zheng continued in her silence, “With everything that’s going on… it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. To lose yourself in the negativity that surrounds the creatures that embody it.” A wizened rumble emanated from his throat. “Darkness is always easier to accept when we feel it is the only thing left.”

Auburn brows knit together at the statement. She didn’t speak a word and still he honed in on exactly what was bothering her. Finally, after another long pause that was met with nothing but understanding, Soriya spoke, “I just feel so useless.” The admission came in a quiet tone.

“Have you not been doing everything you can to help those in need? Struck by hardship? Too weak to help themselves?”

“Does it even make a difference? No matter what I do I’m not strong enough to stop what’s here. I can’t save anybody from this.. it’s... I’m… not this amazing hero. I can’t just step up and… I can’t even help the people I care about.” Her voice shrank to a quivering peep by the time she had finished.

With a slow and singular nod of his head Zheng replied, “Spared the people from their suffering you have not. Not even the Celestials could circumvent the nightmare that descended on the Vale. But to say you have offered them nothing…” Seemingly offended by the ideal, “Master Duskhaven you give people hope. Reminding the people that there are those that will stand up when tragedy strikes can be as simple as offering a hand when all seems lost.” Turning to look at the monk he posed, “A lesson you knew very well once upon a time.”

Zheng continued, “Wars like this are not fought with weapons or troops. They are fought with ideologies. Darkness will never concede to light, just as light must never concede to darkness. For us to lose that hope, now, of all times? That is the true devastation that darkness wants.”

Soriya grew silent once more as he spoke. Her face grew longer with each passing word. The guilt she felt only amplified by his assessment of the grander scheme and how lost she was from it had never been more clear. He was right, of course, even if she didn’t immediately see it. And suddenly she was left to wonder why she let it get as bad as it did. Why she let those thoughts eat at her, consume her, putting aside all the good she had done in place of the abundance of bad.

“Times like these are never easy, my young friend. But we endure because we must. We endure because if we do not… then the darkness wins.”

Slowly Soriya nodded her head in understanding as she did her best to take his words to heart. In a muted voice she asked, “What if I’m not strong enough? Grandmaster I… I made a mistake.” She paused, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. “There’s a creature out there that wants something from me. Something it thinks I stole from it.”

“The last egg of the Eternal Serpent.” The Grandmaster added without missing a beat, much to Soriya’s surprise.

“How did you know about that?”

“It’s not every day a student of mine uncovers the truth behind a longstanding Pandarian legend…” Though he was always more in-the-know then he projected.

That reasoning, however, was fair to her. Continuing her explanation of her battles with one of the newly appointed Paragons. “He keeps going after everything I care about. He’s in my head… he almost killed my dad.”

“Kirollis filled me in on the details.”

“I don’t think I can beat him… I just… after all this time, all I’ve learned, it still doesn’t feel like enough. How am I supposed to use my fists to beat an opponent like that? How can I fight against these things if I can’t vanquish them…”

The elder monk smiled softly before placing a hand on Soriyas shoulder, “Monks do not always fight with their fists. You study the healing arts but wish to take on the monsters of this world. Perhaps you need a tool that would compliment your skillset.”

“I still use a staff, and I have these punching gloves…” Soriya interjected as if that was the answer to it all.

Rubbing a paw over his elongated beard Zheng would ponder this for a moment longer. Mentioning after that moment passed, “There is an old swordsmith that I know of who may be able to help you with this. Though it will be a hard path to follow. The last I spoke to him he was living in the Kun-lai mountains enjoying his retirement.”

“You think he’ll make me a sword? I don’t… even- I’m not too great with those.”

The elder monk smiled broadly as he corrected, “He will make your sword.”

#story #stories #vale of eternal nightmare #sori stories #RP #Canon #monk

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