#so I just drew a greyed out fella | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aurabird · 3 years ago

Text

Tainted Blood

Joel doesn’t believe in the demon, going as far as to ignore him entirely. But the Mezalean King’s defiance isn’t what draws Xornoth to him...but something dark and violent, a thirst for blood that cannot be quenched.

What use could a desire so strong be when mixed with corruption?

Tw: I think just blood/violence and corruption for this one.

Also on Ao3

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

Joel struggled against the chains binding him with a frustrated growl. It was obvious that he was in a dungeon of some sort as a prisoner given the way he was being restrained; arms above his head and his legs to the floor. Who would possibly have the audacity to capture him like this?

“Very funny guys. I’m not laughing, you can come out now and free me.” he shouted to no one in particular.

That is when he heard footsteps, his attention being drawn to the sound in time to see Sausage enter the room. The Mythland king wore attire in various grey shades, a black cape fastened around his shoulders by a ruby trailed behind him as he walked with calculated strides.

The outfit change wasn’t the only new thing Joel noticed about the king, black veins webbed across the man’s visible flesh in vine-like patterns, a faint crimson glow pulsating from them. Sausage turned to look at him, piercing red eyes only made more sinister by the same black veins on his face.

“Joel, good to see you’ve finally awoken!” he said with a grin that was far too sharp and a tone of voice that was only slightly off in normalcy.

“Sausage, what is this? I don’t have time for your silly games right now!”

“Games? Joel you wound me. If anyone has been playing games it has been you taunting Lord Xornoth.”

“That’s what this is about? As far as I am concerned the demon doesn’t exist, just some big elaborate prank someone is playing on all of us that we are falling for.”

Suddenly, Sausage was directly in front of him, the sharp grin still crossing their face “Ah, that’s right, he mentioned how you have been ignoring and irritating him.” the Mythland king took a few steps back before continuing, “But that’s why you’re here, he’s going to make sure you can’t ignore him anymore.”

Joel felt a shiver go down his spine at how calm and deathly serious those words were said. “He doesn’t scare me, Sausage, and neither do you.”

“We’ll see about that, King Joel. Yes we will.” came a distorted voice from everywhere in the room at once, the speaker soon materializing before the Mezalean king in a puff of smoke. Their skin was ebony in color, veins very similar to those on Sausage’s own skin covered every inch of their body and the sinister horns growing from their head were constantly pulsating purple and crimson underneath the shadows that slithered around them. A wicked grin stretched across their face, mouth not moving despite saying words.

“Leave us, Champion.” the entity that was definitely not a demon in any way ordered, dismissing the Mythland king with a wave of a clawed hand.

“Of course my lord.” he replied with a bow before taking his leave, the sound of stone grinding against stone was heard as a door closed behind him, leaving Joel alone with the entity.

“So, Xornoth right? Sausage claims you’re going to keep me from ignoring you.” Joel began with a bored, condescending tone in his voice.

“While that is true, your defiance isn’t what perked my interest in you, there is something else...something dark inside your soul that I am quite curious about. I believe you call it bloodlust?”

“What about it?”

“I find it something worth studying further.”

The chains binding Joel unlocked with unspoken command, causing him to slump to the ground where crimson tendrils were quick to coil around his limbs, preventing any struggle or movement as they held him against the cold floor.

The sound of a sword being dragged across stone drew his attention, Xornoth holding the blade in his hand, “What triggers it I wonder? Is it the sight of blood or the lack thereof?” Joel didn’t get to reply as the demon cut into his left arm, allowing crimson to poor freely from the wound.

He ran through the forest, the wolves at his heels howling as they bayed for the blood of their prey, Joel giving a wicked grin as the desire to kill urged him forwards. He could hear them in the distance, the King and his Hand fleeing for their lives.

“THE RED KING DIES TONIGHT FELLAS!” he cackled with sadistic glee, a look of madness in his red eyes as they entered the war-torn remains of a desert.

The scene faded as quickly as it began, Joel’s body shaking like a leaf in fear at what he’d just seen. He’d witnessed that moment countless times over in his nightmares, but never whilst awake.

Xornoth’s smile grew at the sight of the man’s fear, “Guess you aren’t as fearless as you like to believe.” he said.

Joel snarled, “Sh-Shut up. You know nothing about me!”

“I know you deny my existence and infuriate me with your defiance. I know of your bond with the Ocean Queen and the Codfather...”

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on either of them!”

His threat was ignored as the demon chuckled “Oh, I won’t. But you will.”

Agony coursed through Joel’s body at those words, a cry tearing from his throat as his skin burned where the crimson tendrils made contact with it.

His foot nicked the fiery liquid pouring from above, an ember quickly setting his pants ablaze and causing him to panic. He scrambled as fast as he could to get over the stone brick wall and into the swamp water he knew lay beyond it.

In his act of desperation he got caught up in a lava stream which trapped his legs in sheer agony as it wasted no time incinerating flesh, his vision going black from the pain, a mercy from one of the most painful deaths.

Green eyes bore into his brown ones as the girl glared at him with a satisfied grin, the flames licking the walls of his house out of revenge casting a shadow on her decaying body and torn clothes.

The flames danced around him as he panicked to try and put them out, but to no avail, once more his body was consumed by an inferno.

Joel’s eyes snapped open as he was brought back to reality, his gaze quickly locking onto the black webs slowly creeping up his arms from where they came in contact with the crimson tendrils.

Everything burned as the corruption spread through him, taking control of his motor functions and causing him to cease his struggling.

The demon's maniac laughter echoed throughout the room almost taunting him. Anger flared in his chest and the sight of blood staining stone from where he’d been sliced with a sword fueled a desire to kill.

His vision turned red as a haze began to wrap around his mind, but Joel didn’t fight it, the bloodlust was familiar and welcoming to him...but why there was also something different about it this time?

He had no time to question it as soon, Joel’s thoughts were no longer his own and the pain faded. The Mezalean King’s now-red eyes burned brightly as he looked up to meet those of his master, a twisted smile curving on his lips before he spoke.

“What do you wish me to do to them, Lord Xornoth?”

#empires smp #empiressmp #empiresblr #smallishbeans #xornoth #My writing #no idea where this came from #but have some joel angst #since something like red-life bloodlust #is bound to have some implications #when mixed with corruption

41 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 3 years ago

Text

Meeting Virgil (5x1) -Third Time

Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Virgil Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. Inspiration: @book-of-charlie asked: What did Virgil mean by “the last 5 times?” Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglectful Parents, Implied Miscarriage Taglist in Reblog. To Catch Up: First Time Second Time

Little Lacey was going to change the world. Remy knew it from the moment the baby girl’s eyes had lit up upon seeing him and his wings. From the second she had opened her mouth and let out the most contagious laugh he’d ever heard.

Even now, as he wound his way through the golf course parking lot crowded with stalls and people waiting for the fireworks to start on the hill above them, Lacey drew smiles from everyone standing nearby with that contagious bubbling laughter as she bounced in his arms.

He’d been tempted to put her to sleep when the twin lines of green and purple he’d been following led straight into this noisy place with music blaring, kids screaming, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy thick in the air. First impressions with new parents hardly went well if the baby was screaming their head off after all, yet Lacey apparently loved the chaos surrounding them. She’d perked right up, her giggles ringing in his ear before he’d even landed.

There was no doubt. Despite her previous parents’ best attempts to treat her like a forgotten dusty doll in a china cabinet, Lacey thrived in having everyone’s attention focused on her. For being in the limelight. Yes. Remy knew she would change the world once she was older if the way everyone cooed -from the lady waiting in line with her son to get their face painted to the burly motorcycle dude that looked like he could tear your head off with his pinky- at her was any indication.

It was attention that Remy wasn’t exactly used to dealing with himself anymore. Usually his S.T.O.R.K. duties took him to places that were...quieter...more…secluded environments. One on Two situations where he could meet the new parents away from watching eyes, give them their new bundle of joy and then take off soon after their bond was established.

“Oh, isn’t she precious!” A grandmother cooed at Lacey, her hands twitching with the obvious old person urge to pinch the baby’s cheeks as she gave Remy a warm smile. “You’re one lucky fella having such a beautiful daughter!”

His stomach did a little uncomfortable flip flop at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken as a parent, but it always threw him off when people assumed he was capable of such a feat when growing up it had felt like everyone expected him to die before he reached twenty.

According to Larry and Dot, however, despite the years he’d spent ferrying babies around -and getting them to their parents without issue...well, major issues-- he was still quite ‘rough around the edges.’

Ha.

He’d like to see them say that when faced with the burly motorcycle dude two stalls over. He couldn’t be that rough acting anymore.

Probably.

Maybe.

Eh.

Remy shook his head, wings twitching against his back as he grinned at the woman, glad his metallic green eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. “She’s adorable alright, but I’m just watching her for a friend while they grab a bite to eat.” He tilted his head to the twin lines that led towards the other side of the food stalls beyond the lady as Lacey giggled in his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.

The words flowed easily enough off his tongue, despite the bitter taste they left. Lying wasn’t really a thing with S.T.O.R.K.s hence his...technical truth. He was watching Lacey, though friend might be a bit strong of a word when he’d never met the parents before. But he was planning to grab some of those delectable chicken strips he could smell afterwards. So yah...basically the truth.

He was good at that.

Larry and Dot would visibly roll their eyes but quietly smile their approval at his ability to find and exploit loopholes.

The grandmother’s eyes grew softer as Lacey wiggled, reaching fingers grabbing onto the feathers her little hands could reach. “How sweet.” She murmured, placing a hand over her heart.

Did she mean Lacey or the fact Remy was ‘watching’ her? He sighed internally, keeping the smile in place with effort. He’d never been the greatest at interacting with old people who would ‘dear me’ and ‘oh my’ him to death if he accidentally slipped and swore in front of them.

“Mhmmm, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a nod, wings pressing harder against his back as he edged around her, waving one hand over his head like he was acknowledging someone in the distance and quickly vanished into the crowd, following the green and purple ribbons that would lead him to Lacey’s future family.

Still both glowing with the exact same shade of brightness. Still unknown just which one would end up with little Lacey’s shining personality in their lives.

Well. He paused as the two colored ribbons finally diverged. The Purple leading to the right to where the sun had just set. Green leading to the left to where hundreds of people were sitting, waiting for the show in the sky.

Both options meant still more people. But with the brightness being so close, he’d have to scope out both possibilities first before making a decision.

He exhaled, trying to remain relaxed as the crowd brushed by him, his wings trembling against his back. It wasn’t like anyone could see his wings so he had nothing to fear about being mobbed for his feathers. But still. The constant press of people unknowingly touching them had him on edge.

“Purple first.” He mumbled, adjusting his grip on Lacey as she sat back up, clapping her hands together with a squeal as he moved them closer to a brightly colored bouncy house. It wasn’t like the Edgelord would be here among the Good Old Rocky Mountains when he lived on the opposite side of the country, but it would be best to confirm that first.

With how quickly ‘Virge’ had vanished that night in the woods, it wouldn’t surprise him if the poor guy was still lost in the backwaters of Virginia.

No. Probably not. He seemed resourceful enough...unless he’d gotten himself captured by a Mothman colony--did they have colonies or were they more of a solitary creat--

Remy unexpectedly broke through the crowd, coming out where a line of porta-potties stood like quiet stinky sentinels in the fading light.

And there, right where the purple line ended, stood Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad himself in all his gothic glory. Wearing a black tank top that showed off his arms, artistically torn jeans, and purple dyed hair falling into his storm colored eyes.

Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to a stop, rapidly blinking to clear his vision of this impossible mirage. “No. Fu--Freaking. Way.” He breathed, staring at Virge just as the guy reached down and picked up a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, easily balancing her on his hip like he’d done this exact action multiple times before, speaking softly to her as he brushed the tears from her wet cheeks with his thumb.

Remy swallowed, bouncing Lacey as she wiggled in his grip. Lost maybe? Had to be. He couldn’t see the bonding lines between the two of them for all that Virge looked like a Father patiently calming his distressed child.

Of course, that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was his cousin, or even a niece or some kid of a friend. He would need to get closer to the girl to know for sure if there was any connection between the two.

Remy shrugged, drawing in a steadying breath. Well. Better make his move now rather than later. “Well, Laceyloo” He said, giving the girl a wink as he moved forward. “Ready to try your luck with our resident Emo?”

Didn’t the saying go that the ‘third time's the charm’ or something? With how adorably cute she was...and with how comfortable Virge seemed with this other little girl, perhaps Lacey’s laughter would be the key to convincing Dark and Brooding to accept his obviously destined role as a Father.

One could hope.

“Hey Stranger.” He called, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as the Edgelord jumped like he’d just been electrocuted, causing the little girl to cry out and cling to him as stormy grey eyes met Remy’s metallic green ones.

Virge glowered at him even as his hands moved to soothe the girl, low words leaving his lips as she buried her head against his chest, his stormy eyes only softening as Lacey sat upright in Remy’s arms and gave him a tiny wave of her hand and a delighted giggle.

“Hey.” He said, still focused on Lacey, a myriad of conflicting expressions crossing his face.

Hook.

Remy moved a deliberately casual step closer, wings fluttering with anticipation. “Fancy meeting you here.” He made a show of looking around. “Does Mothman usually attend this sort of thing?”

Virge rolled his eyes, glancing at the girl in his arms before focusing back on Remy. “Slenderman actually.”

A what? Remy paused, glancing at the sniffling girl with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” She didn’t look like a...whatever a Slenderman was.

Another thing he’d have to go look up if these encounters with V-man were gonna continue and he kept insisting on referencing random fantasy cryptid creatures that Remy had barely heard of.

That way he would be more prepared next time.

If there was a next time.

If Lacey failed to work her magic.

Which she wouldn’t.

Because she was Lacey the Amazing and this was their lucky third encounter. So of course he wouldn’t be seeing his stubborn Emo Nightmare again.

Unfortunately.

Virge snorted. “No. She wouldn’t be considered one if I was. Lily here has lost her parents. I’m helping her find them. Right Lily?”

The child glanced up, face tear-streaked, bright brown eyes shimmering with more tears waiting to fall. “They’re gone.” She whimpered.

“And we’ll find them.” Virge assured, voice going soft. “Remember? You were telling me what your Mommy was wearing. A pretty pearl necklace right? Her favorite that you can’t yet wear?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Yah.”

Remy shook his head. Well that was a helpful description.

Not.

Still. Edgelord had shown more patience with the crying kid than most strangers would in this sort of situation. “A necklace.” He repeated. “Like you’ll be able to see that in the dark.”

Virge rolled his eyes. “It’s more help than you’re currently being, Eagle One. Plus I am listening for anyone calling her name.”

“Mhmm in this crowd? The parents would need to scream quite loud.” He took another step closer, smiling as Lily and Lacey made eye contact, the baby in his arms wiggling as Lily straightened with a “Hi you!” as she waved at Lacey. “No, It sounds like you need help from an Expert.” He said, spreading out his wings, flapping them once.

A bad decision really with how many people were around that he could have hit, though the surprised sound Virge made as he lifted a hand, taking an automatic step closer as his grey eyes darted to the people continuing by made it well worth it.

He froze as Lacey laughed, making grabby hands at his wings and Lily gasped a soft “Angel?” leaving her lips, her brown eyes growing bright with awe.

A S.T.O.R.K. But he wouldn’t begrudge the child for her confusion. Remy nodded to Lily, bouncing Lacey in his arms. “I’m here to help you Lils. We’ll find your parents.”

This close he could see easily her parent line--the same Green one he’d been following earlier ironically enough, because of course it would be the same fu-freaking line he’d followed all the way here, winding its way upwind of the porta-potties to a low hill with a couple shade trees at the top. Well, if it didn’t work out with Mr. Reluctant here, at least it appeared Lily already liked her potential new baby sister if their shared giggles and fascination with his wings was anything to go by.

Virge stared beyond Remy, watching the crowd, growing more tense the longer everyone else continued walking by without reacting. “They can’t--” He whispered.

“See them? No.” Remy folded his wings, unwilling to keep them open and exposed around so many individuals now that he’d made his point. “Betcha that’s why people don’t usually see your Mothman either.” Probably. It had to be a magic related thing. Or belief thing. A blending ability? Were S.T.O.R.K.s like Mothmen? Bigfoot? Vampi--oh, yah no….his wings pressed against his back. If it turned out Vampires and Werewolves and Mothmen were actually real only then would he have a mental breakdown over maybe being in the same category as mythical creatures. Right now. He had to focus. Find Lily’s parents. Give Lacey to the Edgelord and walla. Mission accomplished.

Virge slowly shook his head, shifting Lily against his side before he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, there's been enough credible sightings of Mothmen by people to discount that theory.” He said, shrugging one shoulder. “It may explain why, when people talk about their encounters with Angels, that they rarely mention them with wings though.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Not an Angel, V-man. I already told you. I’m a--”

“Stork. Yes. But are you sure that’s not a type of Angel?” He asked, eyes gleaming in the faint light given by the lamp posts. “You bring babies to parents who want children right? You’re willing to help me find this girl’s parents. Therefore a Stork could be a subset of Guardian Angels.”

Huh.

“...You been thinking on this alot?” Remy asked faintly.

Which One. It shouldn’t thrill him that Gothica incarnate was thinking about him. And Two. Questioning his so-called ‘Angelhood’ was definitely not going to keep him up all night regardless of how this encounter ended. An Angel? HIM?! Ha. Larry and Dot would have a conniption that their troubled ward was considered some sort of goodie two shoes Guardian Angel.

Maybe.

Else Larry would tear up, crush him in a hug, and start blubbering Dadisms of ‘being so proud’ and Dot would pat him firmly on the back and say “about time.” It was hard to tell which they’d go most days.

Remy shook his head, raising a finger and jabbing it in Edgelord’s direction. “You.” He said. “Are distracting me from helping Lily” and Lacey “find her parents. Shame. On. You.” He spread a wing towards the girl in Virge’s arms. She immediately perked up, a shy smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his feathers.

Laughter danced in Virge’s eyes as tilted his head, purple tipped bangs falling in front of them, shadowing their grey color further as he maintained eye contact, not at all distracted by the wing inches from his arm. “Oh? Then tell me, O Mighty Stork, how can you find her parents?”

“Same way I keep finding you.” Remy said with a smirk, heart fluttering in anticipation as Popsicle blanched. So close. “Not that you can see it.” He pointed to the ground where the purple ribbon still shown between Virge and Lacey and then over to the green one that also streaked from her to run parallel to Lily’s line that would lead them to her parents. “But all children have a connection between them and their parents or guardians that we,” he gestured to himself, “can see.”

Virge licked his lips, glancing to Lacey, then to the ground, his arm tightening protectively around Lily. “And Lily’s parents are?”

“Right up that hill.” He said without hesitation, pointing to where the green line led. “I can’t see who it ends at, but they are over there. I can easily reunite Lily with them, if you don’t mind holding little Lacey here for me in the meantime.” He said, his wings rising and mantling around them to block Virge’s view of anyone else as he held out the baby for him to take.

Lacey automatically reached out to her potential new Dad, making grabby hands along with a soft cooing sound demanding to be held.

Line.

Virge reached out, arm already curving to take the baby from him, only to hesitate at the last second, grey eyes flickering with shadows as he met Remy’s green ones. “That first time. When you broke into my place. You said…” He licked his lips, hand trembling as he pulled it back to hold onto Lily. “I would only have to ‘hold her and see.’ What did you mean by that?”

….Smart Fish.

Remy exhaled, shaking his head. Sinker totally sunk. Suspicious Nancy here just had to remember some off hand comment he’d made ages ago and question it.

It was times like this that he wished he could Lie to potential parents. It would make his job so much easier. But at the same time, he knew all too well that starting out a budding connection with lies would mean a crumbling family foundation later on. Best to stick to the truth to give the child the best connection with their new parents from the start.

Remy pulled Lacey back into a more steady position against his chest, soothing her disgruntled sounds as she still tried to reach out to the Emo--or maybe it was Lily she was reaching for? The other little girl was bouncing in Virge’s arms hard enough to be a workout as she stretched towards Remy.

Probably a good idea to not have those two touch just yet. He wanted to try and make the bond with Virge work first before allowing Lacey to complete the bond with Lily’s family. He shifted to keep the two out of reach from each other before speaking to Virge. “A parental bond is only established with a child in the custody of a S.T.O.R.K. when said child is touched or held by the new parent. It’s a love at first contact sort of thing.” He said, not at all surprised when the reluctant Emo took two quick steps back away from him.

Stubborn. Why was he so stubborn about this?! Shouldn’t him showing up Three Fuc--Freaking times be clear enough indication that PopStar here was meant to be a Father?!

“So~. If I were to hold Lacey for you while you helped Lily--’” Virge asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I would have killed two birds with one stone.” He said simply. “Lily would return to her parents and Lacey here would have bonded with you and you’d be her new Dad.”

Virge growled at that, eyes flashing as his shoulders hunched high enough to nearly touch his ears. “I told you before that I’m not a good Dad.” He hissed. “And yet you just tried to trick me into--”

Well most people weren’t this stupidly resistant to becoming a parent.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah Huh. For some reason, LolliPop.” He gestured to Lily still comfortably resting in his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Virgil bared his teeth, arms tightening protectively around the girl. “This is different. She’s lost! I’m not going to leave her to wander around here all alone!”

“And Lacey is different how?” Remy retorted. “She is lost, looking for a new Dad, and walla you’re here to save the bloody day!”

Virgil shook his head, taking two more steps back, nearly hitting the nearest porta-pottie. “NO.”

And just like that the Purple line fizzled, growing hazy to Remy’s sight as the Green line took on an even brighter glow.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jiminy Crickets! And he’d had such high hopes that Lacey would be the breakthrough to Virge’s reluctance in joining the Fatherhood Club. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, you fuc--freaking scaredy cat!” Not that he had any personal experience in it, but he’d seen it. Seen how happy the men were to become fathers once the bond was established. “I don’t make mistakes in this. You’d be an excellent Dad no matter your doubts. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise!”

“You don’t know that!!” Virgil retorted, a tint of panic to his voice. “You can’t! How can I believe some guy showing up with a random baby in his arms--you could have kidnapped her for all I--”

“You’ve seen my wings.” Remy interrupted, spreading them out and flapping them for emphasis. “Obviously I’m not exactly some guy. I don’t kidnap babies. I rescue them from bad situations and take them to better ones. That’s what a S.T.O.R.K. does!”

“I can’t--”

“You’ll have to at some point.” Remy snapped. “I’m going to keep coming to you until you do. You do realize that right? You’re marked for Fatherhood and if it’s not me that can get that through your thick skull it will be a different S.T.O.R.K. who does.”

Virge violently shook his head. “No. I’m not--”

“A good Dad. I know. I’ve heard.” Remy rolled his eyes, snapping his wings shut as he turned away to follow the green line, adjusting as Lacey twisted in his arms trying to look behind them. “I still don’t believe you.” But it was obvious by how the purple line had faded to nearly nothing that Lacey wouldn’t end up as the Edgelord’s kid.

A pity. The dude could use some serious laughter in his life. Bright and bubbly like little Lacey’s. Too bad he was apparently immune to her charm.

“...Where are you going?”

Remy fought back the urge to snarl. “To take Lacey here to her next best option, which funnily enough is Lily’s parents so are you coming with me to reunite them or not?” At least he already knew that Lily would get along with Lacey. One hurdle gone in that regard.

Virge made a noise of surprise. “They lost their child and you’re taking another to them---”

“Mistakes happen.” Remy said shortly, glancing over his shoulder. “No one can be the perfect parent 24/7. It’s impossible. You get distracted at the wrong moment and walla your child has slipped away. Or you think someone else is watching them while they think you’re watching them and no one questions why they haven’t seen the kid recently. it---her parent line is still bright, Virge.” He looked away as Mr. Reluctant caught up and fell in step with him. “They aren’t horrible bad people just because they lost her tonight. They love her. No doubt about it.”

And if Cynical Gothica was so concerned about them and their parenting skills then he should have said YES to being the Dad to Lacey before his purple line had fizzled out!

Virge ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes. “...Okay.” He mumbled a dozen steps later. “But what if they--they loved--love her, but…but did something---what if something happened to hurt her? Badly? And they couldn’t--what if it’s not fix--fixable? What then? Would you really--”

Remy stopped just short of cresting the hill, wings prickling, goosebumps on his arms sending a chill through him as he turned back to Virge. This. He could sense. Was important.

“Mistakes happen, V.” He repeated in a softer tone. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made that you think disqualifies you from ever becoming a Father…” He stretched out a wing, brushing the Emo’s cheek, causing him to look up, eyes so soft and vulnerable that it made Remy’s chest ache. “It’s not an unforgivable one. Again. I wouldn’t be here if it were.”

People changed. People could become better than they were. Whatever had happened in the Edgelord’s past wasn’t a deal breaker to the S.T.O.R.K.s. The three times he’d shown up in his presence had to be some sort of proof. He’d never heard of someone refusing parenthood before, but the fact that Remy kept returning, the fact that Virge kept coming up as an option in the first place, had to mean something.

V bit his lip, eyes troubled as he looked to Lacey then back to Remy, the purple ribbon connecting the two flickering like a sputtering candle. “I’m not--” He whispered.

Remy let out a slow breath, well aware that his wing was still touching his cheek, but unwilling to pull away just yet. “It’s something to think on, Virge O’Doom.” He said, voice still soft. “Once is a Chance, Twice a Coincidence, Thrice? It’s a Pattern. It’s just a matter of deciding if you’re ready when I come back a Fourth time.”

As much as he wanted to convince him and make it to work between Lacey and the Emo...the line had already fuzzed once. He didn’t want Virge to have any doubts in this.

“LILY?!” A shrill woman’s voice suddenly rang through the air, breaking the tension between them like a snapped wire. “LILY WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“LILYLOO?” A man called out, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Lily?! Has anyone seen my daughter?!”

Remy smirked, pulling his wing back and raising an eyebrow to Virge as Lily jerked upright at her name, nearly pulling free from his grip in the process. “See? Not bad parents.”

Virge drew in a visibly shaky breath, his arms tightening around the little girl. “Right.”

“MOMMY!” Lily cried, wiggling to get free. “DADDY!”

“We got her!” Remy called, using his wing to push Mr. Reluctant forward up the hill, pitching his voice so it would carry to the frantic parents. “Over here!” He raised his free hand, waving to draw their attention as he moved his other wing to cover Lacey, hiding her from their view for now.

“Oh, Lily!” Her mother rushed forward wild curly hair streaming behind her like a banner, pulling her free from Virge’s grip with little effort to smother her with kisses. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Lily wrapped her arms around her Mother, burying her head against her chest. “Sorry Momma,” She whimpered.

“Where was she?” Her father asked, hovering anxiously behind his wife. His fingers running through his daughter’s hair.

“By the bathrooms.” Virge said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “She was crying, so we---” He gestured to Remy and himself. “Were helping her find you.”

We? Nope nope. “Pretty sure that was all you.” Remy muttered under his breath, shifting as Lacey wiggled in his grip, trying to peer out from around his wing. He would have never been aware of the girl’s situation if Castlevania hadn’t taken the initiative. His job usually involved helping unloved kids. Not loved ones. Even if they were lost.

“Lily,” Her mother scolded in a soft tone, lifting up her chin. “You know you need one of us to go with you.”

The girl sniffed, eyes welling with tears. “But I’m a big girl! I can go by myself! I’m no baby.”

Grief flashed across the Mom’s face, one hand dropping to her stomach before quickly rising back to cradle the back of Lily’s head.

Ah. Remy straightened, light green dust swirling at his fingertips as recognition flashed through him. He’d seen that particular look hundreds of times before from mothers who’d lost a babe in the womb. He’d bet his sunglasses that the baby would have been the same age as little Lacey here had they survived to full term, hence why the line was so bright. Lacey could easily slip into the family like she’d always been a part of them.

“That may be.” Her husband said, taking the opportunity to pull Lily into his arms, squeezing her tight as he gave his wife a concerned look, his own eyes showing a hint of grief as well. “But you know how your mother worries about you.”

“So much, baby girl. So much. If I lost you too-” Her voice hitched as she abruptly cut off, bowing her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“But you didn’t.” Remy said soothingly as he moved closer to the family, fingers of his free hand twisting to scatter green dust around them so that any nosy viewers would stop paying attention now that the little family reunion was complete. “Everyone is safe and sound. No harm done.” He pulled back his wing back to reveal baby Lacey, purposely brushing his feathers along her neck, causing her to break into soft laughter, twisting in his arms from the tickling sensation.

The Mother looked up at the sound, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” She breathed, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes shimmering as she stared at Lacey. “She’s--”

“Cute right?” Remy asked, holding her out in an unspoken invitation to hold her.

Unlike Virge, the Scrooge of Fatherhood, hovering beside him, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out to gently take Lacey into her arms, a hidden weight vanishing from her shoulders as Lacey giggled, nuzzling her face against the Mother’s neck, tiny fingers gripping onto her shirt.

“She’s absolutely precious.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her thick hair. “What’s her name?”

“Lacey.” Remy said simply, the tip of his wing stretching out to push the Father and Lily closer to them.

“Lacey.” The Father repeated, moving to her side, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife slowly rock the baby back and forth. “An L name.” He reached out, running a hand down Lacey’s back, causing the green line in Remy’s sight to flash twice indicating the parental bond had been accepted. “Just like Lily’s.”

Perfect. Remy exhaled, snapping out his wing to block Virge just as he tried to interrupt the moment.

Idiot.

Remy grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as his wings fluttered, sending more light green sparks swirling away to settle around the newly expanded family, ensuring that Lacey would be able to bond with them in peace without further interruption.

Virge struggled, twisting in Remy’s grip, unable to break free as the first set of fireworks burst in the sky overhead. “That’s it?! You can’t seriously just--”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Can. Did. Bought the T-Shirt.” Or food. Could he still get his chicken strips if the fireworks had already started? Probably not. That was disappointing.

“Seriously?! You can’t just drop off a baby and leave!”

Funny. Remy pulled them to a stop at the bottom of the hill, mantling his wings so that Virge stood in his shadow. “I’m a S.T.O.R.K., Grimm Reaper. You do remember what that means right? Leaving babies on doorsteps is kinda the whole jig.”

Virge bristled, not at all intimidated. “But you just left her!”

Must be all those Mothman encounters. Remy crossed his arms. “In good hands, Virgeroo. Not all parents need me to stick around once I give them a child.” Thankfully. He hated dealing with the ones who had a million and six impossible questions they wanted answered. But he wasn’t actually going to leave little Lacey there just like that. What sort of S.T.O.R.K. would he be to literally just dump a child in a lady’s arms and leave?

He’d double back around to check in once he was sure Virge wouldn’t go try to find them and ruin everything.

“But!”

“No.”

EmoDramatic threw up his hands. “How will they explain this though? Going to a fireworks show with one child and coming home with two!”

Remy spread his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Maaagiic~.” He smirked, snapping his wings shut. “They can explain it however they want.” The bond would ensure that whatever reason they gave for suddenly having another child, it would be believed by those who heard it. “It’s not your concern.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past him.

Not until Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad accepted his fate at least. And who knew when that would happen. Would his curiosity help spur him into taking that final step?

Virge whirled with him, fingers brushing his wing before landing on his arm, sending a shiver down Remy’s spine. “I don’t understand.”

“And you won’t, LolliPop.” Remy shrugged free from his grip, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Not until you say yes to Dadhood. That’s another thing you can think on until I see you next.” He gave his Edgelord a two fingered salute as he jumped into the air, shimmering dust whirling around him helping him to vanish from view as a series of green and purple fireworks exploded overhead.

To Be Continued.

#Meeting Virgil #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #STORK AU #Remy #Virgil Sanders #Sleep #Anxiety #implied neglectful parents tw #implied miscarriage tw

51 notes · View notes

dex-xe · 4 years ago

Text

Final Results of Ghosts Survey

Okay so, there was exactly 100 responses which I think is pretty mad so here are the results. I’m gonna give the TL;DR here and then give a FULLLL rundown and some of my opinions below the keep reading so yeh!!

TL;DR

Favourite Ghost (Round 1): The Captain with 50.0% of the vote Favourite Ghost (Round 2): Kitty/Thomas drew with 16.0% of the vote each (although it was veryyyyy close with a few others too) Favourite Ghost (Weighted Total): The Captain with 37.0% (weighted voting explained below) Second Favourite Ghost (Weighted Total): Pat with 12.0%

Favourite Episode (Round 1): Redding Weddy with 27.3% of the vote Favourite Episode (Round 2): Perfect Day with 19.4% of the vote Favourite Episode (Weighted Total): Redding Weddy with 22.3% of the vote Second Favourite Episode (Weighted Total): Perfect Day with 17.9%

Where from here then, boys?? The big fuck-off stats are gonna be down below but the whole “explain why you like this character/episode” I have other ideas for!! Basically, I’m gonna try and make a game where I put some of the responses and you gotta guess which character/episode its talking about. Which I think will be fun but let me know what ya think!! Also,, if you guys have things to say then let me know, what are your thoughts on the results fellas?? Inbox is there if you want it, replies are also there. Lets chat!!

Hiya everyone,, so if you’re here I’m assuming you’re interested in the stats!!

Weighted Voting

Firstly I should explain my methods. What do I mean by weighted voting for example? Basically, first round “favourite ghost/episode” votes count as 2 weighted votes, second round “second favourite” votes count as only 1. The weighted votes are then added together to make a final weighted score for each ghost/episode that is reflective of their status as favourite and second favourite. And if you’ve read that and are now thinking that I’m taking a silly sitcom about a haunted house too seriously by creating data and maths surrounding it, you are absolutely correct and I am not ashamed. Also you clicked to read the stats so you’re just as bad :P

Now we’ve established that we can chat about some results!!

First Round Ghost Voting (Unweighted)

While I predicted that the Captain would be the favourite I am genuinely shocked?? 50% is massive?? There were moments when I was watching the results come in and he hit 75% but thankfully it’s gone back down to 50% now because I’m shocked by that, let alone higher!! The written responses for the Captain fell into three very distinct camps: 1) I’m gay, 2) long paragraph about character development, 3) Ben Willbond hot lol. So that was fun to see XD Pat was second choice as favourite which I think is cool (he did well overall but didn’t win either). Fanny got a grand total of 0 votes this round which is genuinely very upsetting to me, Fanny appreciation 2k21!! The only other one that surprised me was Julian: thought he’d be slightly higher.

Second Round Ghost Voting (Unweighted)

A fun draw between Kitty and Thomas which I’m very happy about,, was worried Kitty wouldn’t get the appreciation she deserves but here we are!! Robin, Mary, and Pat were all also very close here which is nice too. 2 votes for Fanny is still upsetting but slightly better.

Weighted Ghost Voting

Weighted voting is the most accurate representation of results so the Captain is by far the favourite and Pat is actually the second, very closely followed by Thomas and Mary. My spreadsheet to figure out the weighted vote is mad, I’m such a nerd. Maybe I actually do miss studying maths,, I forgot how much I love stuff like this!!

First Round Episode Voting (Unweighted)

Again, my prediction of Redding Weddy being the favourite was correct but it was closer than I thought it would be. Perfect Day and Thomas Thorne Affair both did well too. I am surprised that Grey Lady and About Last Night didn’t get more appreciation: I feel like they probably get looked over because the final four episodes of series 2 are like fan favourites and really incredible but both strong episodes in their own right.

Second Round Episode Voting (Unweighted)

Prediction was correct again but this was wayyyyyy closer than I thought. First place was an easy win for Perfect Day but then Moonah Ston, Redding Weddy, Thomas Thorne Affair, and Ghost of Christmas were all super close. Also Moonah Ston is by far the series 1 favourite which I think is fair. Also more appreciation for About Last Night here.

Weighted Episode Voting

Nothing here that I haven’t really said so I’m just gonna let you enjoy the gorgeous data!! Series 2 was overall more popular than series 1 which I think bodes really well for series 3!! fyi the predictions I put down at the start were Cap as the favourite ghost and Redding Weddy as the favourite episode so surprise I was correct all round XD Big round of applause for me everyone,, jkjkjk XD

So there we go, those are the stats!! I’ll hopefully be back soon with the game I described at the top but idk how to do it atm so I’m gonna look into some options for it. Maybe another Google Form would work but let me know if you have any better ideas. If you wanna chat about stuff let me knowww,, or if I haven’t explained something well I’ll try again.

#bbc ghosts #oh god this was so fun #im just a massive nerd #so yeh #enjoy if this is your kinda thing!!

29 notes · View notes

pyramultimuse · 8 months ago

Text

In a way he was more like the man sitting at his table with him than other pirate. He didn't enjoy the murdering nor did he use fee to control his crew. No, his crew was his family and Smee was more of a father to him than his actual father. He chuckled and nodded at the statement of insults. "I can imagine and the same's probably been said to me one time or another." Killian replied and smirked at how the other didn't like the strong spiced rum he was drinking.

He raised his hook to tap his bottle to get the barmaid's attention. "Something sweet to drink for my fellow captain!" Killian called out and promptly a mixed drink made from tea and pomegranate with just a shot of vodka that could barely be tasted. "Better?"

Killian hummed in thought of what advice he could offer to Stede, lightly scratching swirling patterns into the wooden table as he thought. It was all the drawing he could do since losing his left hand, couldn't understand why everyone was so angry when he wrote and drew with his left hand growing up. "Well, its different for each captain. You gotta find your own style, mate. You're alot like me first mate Mr. Smee over there." He gestured to the grey bearded sailor with the red hat and round belly who was leading a shanty on the other side of the tavern. "Very jolly and kind man, you'd never guess he was a pirate if you just saw him strolling down the street. He was captain of the Jolly Roger before I came around. I got stranded on the same god forsaken Island they were and they took me in, I eventually helped them escape and he passed on the title of captain to me in gratitude."

A very quick and vague version of how he became captain, maybe he'd go into the details another time. Right now Stede was looking for some wisdom. "You have to find a balance between pirating and what you're personally good at. For fighting I've mastered a sort of dual wielding using my hook while sword fighting, I can disarm my opponent's weapon by snagging it out of their hand or I can disembowel by ripping open their stomach. On the other side of things, what I'm personally good at is seduction to get what I want."

The young captain glanced around a moment for a target and when a muscular pirate came close he got to his feet and placed his hand on the man's chest to stop him. "Aren't you a handsome big fella." Killians words were drawn out in a lustful tone as he delicately traced his hook up the man's neck and under his chin. "Bet daddy's pockets are oh so heavy with coin. Don't you think should share some with me?" As he was schmoozing the man he had him backing up until he hit a support beam. The pirate was completely enthralled with the handsome young man and didn't hesitate to hand over his pouch of coins. "This makes me very happy. Thank you~" He kissed his hook then pressed it to the man's lips then left him there dazed and flustered as he came back to the table. Dropping the coin pouch on the table then kicked up his feet. "See? You don't always have to resort to violence to get what you want. Just gotta find what you're good at, as you can see I'm very good at manipulating these horny fucks."

Stede was beaming with joy that the Captain Hook seemed to truly think that of him. Others that have said the same, or even complimented, Stede were being sarcastic and dishonest. Even laughed in his face about it. Something Stede Bonnet has dealt with all his life, really, but it never stopped him. Because if it truly had, he wouldn't be here as a pirate Captain, now would he? Not to say it didn't bother or bring him down at times, because it did, but he tried not to show it. But with Captain Hook? He really did seem genuine and that meant a lot to Stede. So of course he accepted the invite to sit with him at his table. He'd be a fool to decline such an invite.

"It is quite the work to look good while pirating, isn't it?" He agreed, what with his love for fancy attire and all that. "Can't say I've ever been called pretty-boy, though. Plenty of, um, other things, I have." Certainly nothing near as kind as pretty boy, but he could understand it for the fellow pirate Captain. He was handsome, indeed. Far more than others he's seen. Younger, too. And to hear how long he's already been Captain at his still young age?

"Wow." Stede exclaims as he takes the bottle with a 'thank you', pouring some into the glass provided. "You've been at this quite a long time." Something Stede wishes he could relate to. He often thinks about what it would have been like had he left his previous life sooner. Would he still be pirating? Would he have found something else? Would he even be alive? "Haven't been out here long, myself, but..." He takes a drink, making a face at how strong it is. "It feels like it's where I'm suppose to be. Where I've always meant to be..." Even if he's had a bit of a rough start. He sounds sad almost, when saying those words, but then he looks at the Captain again. "Perhaps I'll get to where you are someday. Got any... tips for a fellow albeit beginner Captain?"

#avastyetwats #{muse} killian hook #lol sorry I got carried away

16 notes · View notes

itsadamcole · 4 years ago

Text

christmas baby

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader goes into labor with drew’s baby, while drew is in the ring fighting for his wwe championship

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: pregnancy, dad!drew (bc why not), fluffy

— day 8 lets gooo. i literally wrote this up yesterday during raw —

masterlist || request an imagine here

***

Drew’s POV

"The following match scheduled for one fall is for the WWE Championship. Introducing first the challenger, weighing in at 267 pounds, from Dublin, Ireland. Sheamus!" is announced as Sheamus stands across from me in the ring.

The crowd cheers and boos for my former best friend.

After the crowd calms down, Mike Rome says, "And his opponent, weighing in at 265 pounds, from Ayer, Scotland. He is the WWE Champion, Drew McIntyre!"

The crowd cheers for me and I hold up my title.

The referee takes my title and holds it up. I prepare myself for my match as the title is handed off.

The lights come up and the bell rings. Sheamus comes right after me, striking me with his fists. I try pushing him off me.

He starts yelling at me. "Come on, fella!" he shouts. "Hit me. I dare ya!"

So, that's what I do. I deliver the Glasgow Kiss to him and Sheamus stumbles backward, stunned.

I run at him, clotheslining him so he lands on his back in the ring. He lays by the ropes, using them to get up. I run at him but he pulls down the ropes and I go flying over them. I land on the ground outside the ring with a grunt.

Someone runs over to me and says so only I can hear, "Drew, we just got a call from your wife. Y/N just called from an ambulance. She's been in labor for a few hours but her water broke so she had to go to the hospital. She called 9-1-1 since she was alone. She waited as long as she could but she had to go to the hospital."

My eyes widen and Sheamus is looking over the ropes at me. He knows what this means.

I have to end this match and fast. I need to be there for the birth of my child.

***

Your POV

You scream in pain as another contraction hits. They've been getting closer and closer together over the past few hours. You wanted to wait for Drew to get home before you went to the hospital but your water broke so you had to go to the hospital. You have been progressing quickly. You were at six centimeters when you got here a half-hour ago.

When the due date got closer, Drew gave you the number of a WWE official and a close friend of Drew's. You were supposed to call when you went into labor and if Drew was at the arena. You felt contractions begin to start about two hours ago and waited as long as you could. Once your water broke and you were in the ambulance, you called.

It’s Christmas Eve. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be giving birth on Christmas Day.

As soon as you were settled in a room, you turned on USA Network. It's about forty minutes later and Sheamus is setting up for the Brogue Kick. This match has been really long and you aren't very happy about it. Drew was the main event and he wasn't on TV when you called.

You grip the sheets on the bed as you breathe your way through a contraction.

Sheamus hits the Brogue Kick on Drew and you gasp, eyes still on the TV.

"No," you say. "Drew, no."

You watch as Sheamus goes in for the cover. The referee counts to three and the bell rings.

The contractions get worse and you scream in pain.

Drew lost his title. He was supposed to retain. He purposefully lost his title.

A nurse comes in and checks on you. "How are you doing, honey?" she asks. "Everything okay?"

The nurse checks to see how dilated you are now as you nod and say, "Yeah, everything's okay. Um, I know I said I didn't want drugs but can I pretty please have an epidural?"

Your nurse laughs and says, "Of course. Someone will be in soon so administer it. You're also at about seven centimeters dilated. Can we call someone for you? Family? The father?"

"The father should be on his way any second," you glance up at the TV as Drew gives Sheamus a handshake.

The nurse looks at the TV and asks, "Wait, you're Mrs. Y/N McIntyre, aren't you?"

You nod and say, "Yep, that's me, and that's my husband." You nod at the TV as it goes off the air.

The nurse sits in a chair beside you and says, "My husband and sons love wrestling. They're huge fans of Drew's and I know that they're not happy that Drew lost his title."

You smile and say, "I'm not happy that Drew lost his title. I know he's in a rush to get here and that's why but he didn't have to give up his title."

The nurse laughs softly and says, "Well, I'm sure they'll give him a title run. When he gets here, we'll be sure to get him up here as soon as possible. It's still a few hours before the baby gets here."

An anesthesiologist comes into the room to give you the epidural. The nurse holds your hand as you're given the drugs. The epidural starts to kick in about ten minutes later, and you have several contractions between when the epidural is administered and when it actually kicks in.

It's close to an hour later when Drew shows up. He's wearing a black tank top with grey sweatpants. You can see his tights peeping out from the top of his sweatpants because they're hanging a little low.

"Are you still in your gear?" you ask.

Drew nods and takes your hand. "I had to get here as soon as I could," he says. "How far along 're ya?"

You say, "I'm close to eight centimeters. I still have an hour or two left to go before I give birth."

Drew kisses your hand and says, "I'm sorry I couldn't get here faster. Ya called right before my match and I wasn't given the news until the match started."

A contraction starts and you squeeze Drew's hand. You pant out, "You didn't have to lose your title to get here."

Your husband rests his other hand on top of yours are you breathe your way through the contraction. They've been the closest than they ever have been. They're about three minutes apart and lasting about a minute.

The epidural has helped the pain a little bit but not a lot because it hasn't fully kicked in.

"I wanted to," Drew says as the contraction stops. "We got lucky that Raw was here in Orlando this week. Next week, I'd be traveling to Michigan and right from there I'd be traveling to California. I wouldn’t have made it in time. It’s the one thing I always promised myself.”

You look at Drew and say, “Baby, I would have understood if you couldn’t be here. Your job pays the bills since I said I would be a stay at home parent.”

He leans down and kisses your sweaty forehead. “I promised ya that I’d be here, and I’ve never broken a promise when it comes to ya and our baby,” Drew says.

You smile as another contraction starts. You cry out in pain and hold Drew’s hand.

This continues for almost two hours. The contractions get worse and are closer together. The nurse checks your cervix every fifteen minutes when it dilates to nine centimeters.

You’re taken into a delivery room as soon as you hit ten centimeters.

Drew is given a plastic gown so he can come into the room with you. He stands by your bedside as two nurses get you prepared to give birth.

You’re covered in a thick layer of sweat and your hair is a mess. Hopefully this will all be worth it after all the pain you’ve gone through in the past several hours.

The doctor comes in and says, “Alright, Mrs. McIntyre. When the next contraction comes, I need you to begin pushing.”

You nod as the doctor gets set up. You look up at Drew and he looks down at you. He smiles at you.

A contraction hits and the doctor says, “Alright, push me me, Y/N.”

So you do. You push, and you push.

It’s close to two hours of pushing before the baby comes out.

The sounds of a baby crying makes you sigh with relief that the pain is over and that your baby boy is here.

As the doctor wraps your son in a light blue swaddle, you can see a head full of dark hair. The baby definitely has Drew’s dark hair.

Drew is handed your son and you look up, seeing your sweet boy’s sleeping face. Happy tears begin to fall down your face. You’re definitely still a little emotional.

“Do we have a name?” the doctor asks.

You nod and say, “We wanted to name him Archie John McIntyre.”

Archie was chosen because both you and Drew liked it, and it had some Scottish meaning. John is his middle name because it was your great-grandfather, grandfather, and dad’s middle name. You wanted to keep the tradition.

Drew rocks little Archie back and forth and you let your son hold your finger.

“So,” Drew says, looking at you. “When are we trying again for another one?”

You glare up at your husband and say, “Not for a while. I cannot handle this pain again, Drew. At least getting hit with a chair won’t feel as bad since I literally pushed a baby out of me today.”

Your husband laughs and presses a kiss to your head. “I love ya, Y/N,” he says. “And I love this little life ya have birth to.”

Archie begins to fuss in Drew’s arms and you giggle, “Someone’s hungry. Give him to me.” You hold your arms out for Archie.

Drew hands Archie over to you and you breastfeed him.

A few hours later, you’re discharged. When you get home, you take a picture of Archie holding yours and Drew’s fingers.

Drew posts on his social media saying, “A future WWE champ was born today. He’s definitely coming for that title.”

You post on your socials saying, “What a Christmas present that we were given today. Baby Archie was born early this morning, on Christmas Day. We love you, Archie. Thank you for making us parents on Christmas.”

That night, Drew sleeps with his arms wrapped around your waist and you sleep facing the crib in your bedroom. You watch your son sleep.

A smile forms across your lips as you realize that this is your life now. You have a husband who loves you and a baby who is loved by both of you.

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre fluff #drew mcintyre x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling fluff #wwe imagine #wwe fluff #imagines #imagine #fluff imagine #fluffmas #christmas fluff #christmas imagine

78 notes · View notes

cryptic-cockroach · 3 years ago

Photo

Road to Roswell

One shot, 1280 Words

Some art to pair with a blurb I wrote about Bruce going to Roswell. I’m attaching it below if anyone wants to take a gander.

They say something crashed in the desert of Roswell, New Mexico in 1947. Reports spoke of a metal that couldn’t break but bent in your hands, of little grey bodies littering the scene, of gouges in the ground that extended hundreds of feet. Far be this the only strange phenomena that’s struck Roswell. Within it lies a rich well of superstition and conspiracies, only ever heightened by the crash so many years ago.

Whether or not it was truly a cover-up of alien life or simply the weather balloon the government and military would parrot about, something else would strike the captive interest of the people of Roswell in recent times, and like most stories do.. It started with a man…

There were plenty of conspiracy shows, plenty of curious minds looking for clout and attention coming through Roswell, but it’s the reports spoken by one local station that drew the most interest, and so the town one by one tuned in looking for answers.

He was unassuming, most people didn’t take note of him at all. He came into town in a small, battered RV that had seen far better days. Though the same could be said of this man, off one report from a waitress at the Cowboy Café diner. She said he stood out a bit when he walked in but hadn’t given him much thought until now. ‘He was a scrawny fella, his hair wasn’t too well kept and he looked to have missed a spot shaving but really it was the state of his clothes.’

She’d elected to remain anonymous when providing her comments. ‘They didn’t look to fit him, and just judging by the distress and dirt and tears he looked like he hadn’t been washing them much either. That or he must’ve ticked someone off something fierce to end up in that bad a tousle.’ While the report initially ended there, the waitress followed up some time later with a confession. ‘I must admit I hesitated to share what I’d really meant to share.. He was nice, you know? Spoke awful soft and thanked us for everything we did. Didn’t think eggs would be that big a deal but he must’ve been starving or something..’

‘What really gets me is the way he was looking out the window.. At the clock on the wall and his watch of his. Like he was waiting for something to happen.. And the way he was talking to himself. Couldn’t make out much of it but I- I ain’t gonna forget the look on his face when he realized I was listening. It was like I shot him. Didn't even finish eating, just dropped his pay on the counter and booked it.’

It may seem odd that we bring up a man, a bit of an odd duck but nothing too special when compared to giant snakes in the desert or ghosts haunting clock towers, but her report was in response to another that cropped up which spurred the town into a tizzy. This one came from a tourist who was scoping out the Bottomless Lakes State Park and Lake Lea in particular.

‘It was pretty early in the morning so it wasn’t like I was expecting anyone to be out there really. I know I heard of teens and rowdy kids who liked to get handsy there but this wasn’t that. Didn’t even notice him at first, like he was blending into the grass and shrubs the way he was all curled up on himself. He was nearly butt-ass naked with just some real shredded to hell pants which looked a number too many sizes too big.’

The man, who also refused to give a name, continued. The following details were enough to capture the interest of the imaginative and the conspiratorial. ‘He wasn’t even awake I don’t think, but he was muttering to himself. Something about.. Doors? Green doors? I couldn’t make much of it out and when I got close enough to try he shot up all in a cold sweat. To my credit I offered to call someone, go get help or something but he wasn’t having it. Just stumbled off holding up his clothes like he wasn’t gonna stick out like a damn sore thumb.’

But it’s what accompanied this report. Our inquisitive tourist here looked around the scene for anything telling about the whole experience. What he sent was alarming but familiar to those of you more up north. Photos of giant footprints near the edge of the lake where he claims this encounter took place. Sure enough, when he’d taken one of our local experts to the scene to make casts the footprints were still there.

‘They have remarkable realism if they are a hoax,’ Said aforementioned local expert Daniel Padilla, ‘The suggested running motion and the weight distribution we’re able to glean is incredible! It must have been a creature of great power and weight as well as size, this would be very hard to imitate, especially without risking someone noticing it. I can say with near certainty this is the real deal.’

Following this a sketch artist worked with our eye witnesses to create a portrait of this strange man. This spurned a flurry of other reports of similar, odd behaviors coming from who we can only believe was some sort of harbinger or perhaps worse.

While some locals and tourists took it upon themselves to try and find this man, it seemed the fame he’d been gathering must have scared him off. Until the assault of one of our very own star athletes, Anthony Marquez, brought a new energy to our story. He was found this week following the incidents mentioned just outside of town. Him and several of his friends were in a critical state of injury. It’s said most of their bones were broken, and that they suffered acute head trauma as well as internal bleeding for most of the cases.

Anthony was the only member of the party able to tell us what happened. ‘I should’ve known what he was. F***** stole from me, man.. He was wearing my clothes, must’ve broken in or something while I was out. I know it was mine, s*** went missing before I saw him. I was just.. Drinking with some buddies, I left the bar and I saw him. Next thing you know I’m chasing him outta town with them, sun set and..’

‘He dropped, we were kicking the shit outta him and he started twisting wrong. I- He… he had the devil in him. Must’ve been nine feet tall, with glowing eyes and grey or- or maybe green skin, it was dark, couldn’t make out much but the way it f****** grinned at me..’

Reports became scarce following this incident, with the RV many suspected to have been belonging to this mystery man having gone missing from the RV Village nearby. The story doesn’t end there however. Shortly after the attack and disappearance of the man a military unit passed through Roswell. It was personally headed by a General, Thaddeus Ross. He and his unit refused to comment on their passing through Roswell but many of the former witnesses refused to provide additional comment. We don’t mean to imply that there has been some initiative to keep this story quiet but it certainly seems like quite the coincidence doesn’t it? What do you think, dear listeners? Should this be a story to press or one to bury? Who was this John Doe? What did he bring with him into our beloved town, and will it return?

Until next time remember, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

End.

#Bruce Banner #Hulk #marvel #Art Stuff #Writing Stuff

3 notes · View notes

thorinthehottotty · 4 years ago

Text

May 18th - Lyn's Writing Event - Thorin

Prompt -Soulmate AU (where you can't see the color of your soulmate's eye color until you meet them.)

Warnings: None

Your parents knew it would be blue for you from a young age. When you couldn't tell overcast from clear skies. You didn't mind. You liked the color grey. It was soothing.

How many times had your friends tried to describe blue to you? Too many. Somewhere between green and purple. Both of those colors you liked. The thing that bothered you the most was how quickly your friends were finding their soulmates compared to you. He wasn't from Bree, evidently. But your wandering spirit was already aware of this.

The older you got, the more you wanted to go exploring. Not just to find your soulmate, but to explore the world.

Rivendell was your first stop when you finally had enough and move onto what you had always felt. The elves were notoriously kind there and you stayed a while as they saw the promise you had with bows and battle. Bree was after that, then moving further West with a lack of true direction where you were going.

That was when you had a nasty run in with trolls.

You'd put up a hell of a fight when they caught you trying to free the group of ponies that had collected. You'd managed to shove your recurve bow into the eye of the one that walking boogers. He didn't like that a bit and dropped you.

"Gahh! I'm blind! I'm blind!" It howled. You managed to duck and roll out of the way of one of them trying to snatch you.

"Get out of the way or she'll get away!"

"Grab her!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" My attention is drawn away when a tiny person peeks from pony's cage. Oh no. And from no where, dwarves began to pour in.

You cursed when they snatched up what you were quick to discover was a hobbit. Little fella was so out of his element, you felt dreadful and laid down your weapons with everyone else.

And then you were jammed into a burlap sack same as everyone else and grumbled out another curse. "I'll never get this stench out of this leather," you hiss.

"Is that elven armor?" The little hobbit asked from beside you, as if his friends weren't currently being roasted on the fire. You peaked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this a good time for conversation? We should be trying to get out of these," you scold softly. Then your squirming in your sack and the dwarf behind you grunts unhappily. "Sorry, Master Dwarf. Just fishing for another blade."

"Ey! You lot stop talking over there!" One of the trolls shouts as they continue to argue over how to cook dwarf. Evidently they understood well enough how you'd taste. That was an awful thought.

Bilbo launched into a quick witted spiel on how to best cook a dwarf as you drew a small blade you normal used for skinning game and sawed at the burlap. You paused when he said they needed to be skinned first and then gave a pained groan. "Oh dear gods. He's dumber than I thought," you murmur and several of the dwarves cast you amused glances. He quickly covered by stumbling out that everyone had worms.

The dwarf behind you kicked another when he protested. Finally you'd made it through the sack's tie near your throat and it loosened. You wiggled out a bit more and twisted. Both you and the handsomest dwarf you'd seen in your life froze. His eyes... They were the most beautiful color you'd seen in your life. And slowly it sunk into the world around you. Little bits of blue were soaking in like spilled ink.

A crooked smile lifts one side of your mouth in amusement. "Fancy meeting you here," you joke and reach up to slice at his own bag. No one notices the exchange as his lips part in surprise.

"A woman," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You throw him a wink and twist to help the others as well. Just as the trolls are getting fed up and catching on, an old friend emerges and breaks a rock, petrifying the trolls.

"Gandalf!" You gasp and throw the old man a grin. "Always up to no good!" You tease.

"I was not the one trapped by trolls, now was I?"

"Fair enough. How are you my old friend?" You reply and step up towards him.

"Traveling with dwarves is making me weary. Last I saw you were in Rivendell. Where are you heading?"

"I figured I'd take a stroll through the Shire, maybe learn about some gardens, roll in some grass." The wizard grins at you proudly.

The clearing of a throat has you glancing over to the tall dwarf eyeing you. "Ah, how rude of me. Thorin, meet an old friend of mine. Y/N, this is Thorin Oakenshield and his company. Thorin, this is Y/N."

"How long will you be in the Shire?" He demands immediately.

"Rather blunt, aren't you?" You laugh. But those blue eyes burn you as you grin. Blue is definitely your favorite color.

"I don't have time to follow you there. We are heading East a great distance. It will be a long time before I can return." Gandalf frowns, and so do many of his dwarves. Apparently this was not a reaction he normally gave. You grin at him and reach for your discarded quiver and bow.

"I'm not sure. But I'm sure you'll find me." You throw him a wink and attach the quiver to your back.

"I seem to have missed something."

"Good seeing you, Gandalf. A pleasure, Thorin." You give his name extra emphasis. The dwarf gapes at your amusement of the situation.

"You're leaving?" The dwarf bellows. You turn, grinning at him, planting your feet.

"Are you asking me to stay?" It's quiet a moment. Then he nods.

"Aye. Join us for our quest to reclaim Erebor." This has the dwarves around him gasping in horror.

"Thorin! Have you lost your mind!?" A burly, tattooed Dwarf grunts.

"A human woman!"

"What are you doing!?" Without looking away from your eyes, he replies back to them.

"She is my One." Gandalf arches a brow and jaws drop open. You nod at him, making your way toward him. He wanted you to stay, despite being human. You gave him every opportunity to deny you. He didn't. It filled you with warmth.

"Alright, I was looking for an adventure. Lead on."

"Thorin! Gandalf! I've found something!" The hobbit calls, popping up from a hole in the ground.

Gandalf shouts praise as the two of them move on. Two young dwarves saddle up beside you. "Hello, Auntie!" They call out. Oh, what an adventure this would be.

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @dabisburntnut @tomisbaeholland

#thorin #thorin fanfiction #thorin thursday #thorin durin #thorin x you #lyn's writing event

79 notes · View notes

diddlesanddoodles · 4 years ago

Text

DEAD WALLS RISE - CONNAR

PART ONE

The day that Connar found out he was red-green colorblind coincidentally happened to by the same day he first met Gen. And the two events were not all together unrelated. He’d been let out to play by his mother with the same vague warning she always told him, ‘don’t go passed the boundary’. The boundary being the yellow paint upon a selection of trees that marked the end of their property and the beginning of their neighbor Gen’s land. Or at least they said it was yellow. It just looked white to Connar.

He had never met Gen, but his father had several times and for everything that the boy had ever heard about him, Gen seemed to be a very nice fellow. He just so happened to be a Vhasshalan giant. His father once told him that Gen was an old man, widowed, and liked his privacy. So to be good and respectful neighbors, they created the boundary so they never mistakenly foraged or hunted on his land.

“We’re not poachers,” his father told him once.

Which was never a problem for Connar as his family hand plenty of space for him to run around and plenty of very good climbing trees. But what they did not have were the luscious blackberry brambles. They did have some brambles, but they had picked them clean of any and all berries earlier that season. From his favorite climbing tree near the boundary, he could see far into their neighbor's land and passed the low ridge near the stream, he could see the sprawling blackberry brambles. From even so far away and up so very high, he could see the berries. Sitting there. With only birds and deer to eat them.

The temptation became too great for the adolescent and he decided he was going to go pick a few of them. Not many. Just a few. Besides, Gen was a giant and blackberries were so small to him he would never notice or miss a few of them.

Careful of the thorns, Connar spent a good portion of the mid-morning greedily devoured handfuls of the little black jewels. It was only when he heard the first rumbles of thunder that he decided he had eaten enough and best head home before the storm rolled in. The sky was grey and the clouds thick. It would be a gulley washer for sure.

He walked behind the thicker part of the bramble, ducking under the foliage and slipping through, when all of a sudden there was a loud snapping sound and the screech of metal springs. The clear path in front of him and the one he had just come through were abruptly blocked by metal bars and the force of them rearing up from beneath the ground debris sent Connar falling back onto his bottom. Under him he could feel the hard bars of metal.

Sitting there for a long moment and listening to the frantic beatings of his own heart, Connar looked around himself as he tried to decipher what it was that had just happened. All at once he understood and he was on his feet at the bars to one of the trap’s doors. He yanked ineffectively at them and when that failed, he began to push. Bracing his feet against one of the bars across the floor, he pressed his back to the trap’s door and pushed as hard as he could. But even then he only managed to move the spring loaded door a few inches before his strength gave out and he fell back down onto the floor, panting and shaking.

He had triggered a game trap; a spring loaded one. Near his feet he could see the trigger plate, hidden beneath more forest debris.

“Oh no…” he got back to his feet and peered out towards the direction of his family’s land. “Daaaaad! Mamaaaaa! Help!”

Only crickets and bird song answered him and before long, the thunder had its own say. A rolling rumble drew across the sky as the wind began to pick up. He felt the first few drops of rain hit his head and looking up through the foliage covering the roof to forest canopy and the swathe of sky visible, he frowned.

“…Mama’s gonna swat me.”

…………………………………….

The worst of the storm passed within an hour, but the rain persisted all morning and into the afternoon. Soaked through and shivering, Connar huddled miserably in the corner of the trap, hoping he would hear his family calling for him so he might call back and maybe his father could think of a way to get him out without alerting their large neighbor to the fact that they’d been trespassing or in Connar’s case, poaching blackberries.

When he heard the crunch of footsteps, Connar got to his feet and looked back towards his family’s property, hoping to see he father crest the ridge and start yelling at him for worrying him and his mother…but belatedly realized that the foot falls were coming from the other side and were growing louder. Much louder. Until the sound of large boots sounded right next to the trap and through the foliage and brambles obscuring most of his view, Connar could make out a pair of very large feet. And then he heard the giant rumble above him.

“Hm…well ain’t that curious.” Connar edged himself to the farthest corner, staring up as leather clad hands pulled and swept away the vegetation covering the roof of the trap and revealing a greyed and wrinkled face. Brown eyes widened from under thick eyebrows as the giant huffed a short chuckle, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Well, well. Aren’t you a funny looking deer…”

Connar hunched he shoulders as though he could disappear into himself.

“Now then,” The giant said and raised an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Arthur’s little boy, would you?”

“Yessir…” Connar replied in a small voice.

Gen’s smile widened and he tapped the metal trap’s roof. “Tell me; how in all the seven hells did you miss seeing this contraption?”

“…it was hidden,” Connar explained, feeling just the smallest sting to his pride as the implied accusation.

“It’s bright red, son.”

Connar blinked and looked beside him at the metal bars and the green brambles beyond. They looked the same to him. He turned his gaze back up and squinted at Gen, feeling as though perhaps he was playing a trick on him. “They look the same...”

Gen’s amiable expression turned incredulous. “You telling me this…” he tapped the trap again. “…and these…” he brushed a finger through the brambles. “…look the same color to you?”

Connar nodded, but jerked in surprise when Gen abruptly broke out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Connar demanded, his face feeling hot and his pride feeling more than just a mere sting.

“Hate to tell you this, but I think you might be colorblind.”

“I can see color just fine!”

“Perhaps, but not all of them. At least not all the ones I can see,” the giant explained. “I paint my traps bright red so I can find them easily and also because deer can’t distinguish between the green of the bushes and the red paint. Humans should be able to see them just fine and dandy though. But not you.” He paused as though considering and then grinned. “So I suppose that really does make you a funny looking deer.”

Connar started to glare at giant, but a telling tickle at the back of his nose had him turn his face into the crook of his arm and he sneezed. Gen hummed thoughtfully and asked, “How long have you been stuck in there, son?”

“…a while.”

“And how long is ‘a while’?”

“Since this morning…”

With a resigned shake of his head, Gen sighed. Then, fixing the young boy with a curious, if not slightly amused look, he asked, “Suppose you’ll be wanting outta there, hm?”

“Please...”

“Alright,” he chuckled, slipping off one of his gloves and popping the top of the trap open. Connar felt a little silly for not having thought that the trap opened from above. But he had little time to contemplate as Gen reached inside, but with a deliberate slowness that may have been meant to keep from startling him. Large fingers wrapped around his back, cupping him into the large palm and lifting him up and out of the trap. Gen peered at him with a slight frown. “Boy, you are soaked to the bone.”

“It rained...” he replied. “A lot.”

Gen hummed to himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He then draped it around Connar’s shoulders. “That’ll keep you a tad bit warmer in the meantime,” the giant said and then rose to his feet carefully. “Now let’s get you back to your mother before she starts to worry.”

It didn’t take him any time at all to reach their little house, a handsome little homestead built into the side of a moss covered hill. His father was seated outside on a stool, idly carving a small piece of wood

“Hello there,” his father said, looking up with surprise at Gen approaching.

“Hello Arthur. Apologies for just wandering in,” Gen said and then knelt down to place Connar on his feet. “But I think this one belongs to you.”

His father leapt to his feet and marched over to his son. “Connar! What have you been getting into now? Gen, I am very sorry if my boy’s been bothering you...”

Gen laughed. “Not at all, not at all. Poor little fella had a rough morning though. Got caught in one of my venison cages near the stream. Soaked through and chilled, but otherwise fine. Don’t be too hard on him.”

His father grabbed his shoulder and began to steer him towards the door. “Maria! Come and get your son, please.”

His mother’s head peaked out from the door as she was wiping her hands on her apron and she planted them on her hips upon seeing her son. “Connar, what in the God’s Greenwood have you been doing? You are drenched!”

“Got caught in one of Gen’s venison traps,” his father said, echoing Gen’s explanation. His mother’s hand reached out and snagged his right ear and began to pull him along.

“WHAT?”

As his mother dragged him into their home, he heard Gen laugh and say, “By the way, I think your boy may be colorblind, Arthur.”

…………………….

Connar’s family and Gen remained very good neighbors and for the two years that followed his first meeting with the giant, all seemed well with the world.

And then Vhasshal declared war on Silvaara and their once peaceful lives shattered.

Retribution came swiftly and the first to suffer King Nethrin’s rage were the residents of the Blackwoods. Blue coats hunted at night, torching any human homes they found and capturing any human that came across. People they had known for years disappeared with nothing but the ruined and burned out shells of their homes remaining. Once trustworthy Vhasshalan neighbors became hostile. Though they had not heard or seen Gen, they all assumed he was of a similar mind.

And soon enough, the reckoning came for Connar and his family.

His mother had been struck with a nagging feeling all morning and all but demanded of his father that they leave their homestead that day and hide in their winter storage larder. Just in case. It was an underground cellar that when shut, was indistinguishable from the surrounding mossy rocks. It was secure, it was insulated, and well stocked.

That night, the blue coats came.

Five of them walked around their homestead, kicking over their cart and trampling Maria’s flowerbeds and smashing in the small windows. Their old pony, their heifer, and her calf were all taken away. And then they set it all on fire. From far off, they watched their lives be devoured by the flames and the smoke rising up into the uncaring sky. The question of what to do lingered heavily.

His mother wept and though his father tried his best to comfort her, he too had tears in his eyes. Their home had been in the family for seven generations. His grandfather carved the wood that made their bed frames. The quilts had been hand sewn by great aunts. But it all disappeared behind the wall of flames, framed between the voyeuristic silhouettes of the blue coats. Connar and his older sister huddled together near the back of the cellar, listening to the haunting echo of their laughter.

……………..

They were beginning to run low on food and though making soup of what little remained would have stretched it considerably, they could not risk a fire. His mother had feeling poorly for several days and his father did want to leave her side, so Connar was sent out to fetch the water. He wore his dark green tunic and hood so as to better camouflage himself in case any giants were about. He found a quiet bend in the stream that was well hidden by thin limbed trees with thick foliage and uncorked the water sac, submerging the end into the stream and letting the bladder fill with cool clean water. His mind began to wander and he was not as observant as he should have been.

The snapping of a branch brought him back to the present and he looked up and up and into a familiar face he hadn’t seen in months.

“…Connar?” asked Gen. The giant had been emerging from a cluster of trees just a few yards from the stream, a leather satchel filled with wild vegetation at his side. Upon seeing Connar, his eyes widened and then abruptly narrowed and then he was stepping forward with a purposeful stride down into the stream. Towards Connar. With a squawk of alarm, the human dropped the water sac and ran with Gen bellowing after him. “Stop!”

Not since the day before the war broke out had his family seen or heard anything from Gen. Connar knew from the stories he told him that he used to work at the Vhasshalan castle when he was younger and he spoke highly of King Nethrin often enough that it did not leave any room in his or his family’s mind just what side of the conflict he stood. It hurt his father and him to think that their friend and neighbor would or could do them harm if he found them. Supposedly there were bounties being offered for captured humans to entice those who would otherwise have left any humans they found alone. In that moment, the only thing Connar could think was to lead him away from his family’s hiding spot and hope he was able to lose the giant under the thick brush.

But as he dove for cover through a thicket, his foot caught and he fell forward and the sound of squealing metal springs echoed around him as the venison trap snapped shut. Connar looked around at the metal bars with a sinking dread.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He scrambled gracelessly to his feet and looked up just as Gen came into view behind him. He pressed himself against the furthest end of the trap and stared with terrified and bated breath as the giant bore down on him. It was all too familiar and he knew the outcome was going to be drastically different.

“Connar…”

“I won’t tell you anything!” Connar yelled angrily at his former neighbor. Gods, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. The giant knelt down beside the trap and with one hand, popped the top open. Huffing through his nose and shaking, Connar stared up into Gen’s face.

“Connar,” Gen said breathlessly. He did not reach in for him like Connar had expected. He only stared down at the human youth. “You’re alive…”

“No thanks to you lot!” the boy yelled, angry frustrated tears pooling into his eyes. He couldn’t get the image of his home burning out of his mind.

Gen flinched at that. “Please, just listen to me…”

“No!”

“Connar,” he said firmly as he reached inside. Bristling, Connar ran to the other side of the trap, but it was useless. There was nowhere to go that Gen could not reach. He felt thick fingers wrap around his torso and pressed into his belly, pulling him bodily from the corner and up. “Stop that…will you just…”

“No-! Don’t…don’t touch me! Let me go!” He thrashed and squirmed as best he could. He succeeded in shimmying partly out from his tunic, but Gen just tightened his hold and Connar found himself partially dangling from the giant’s grip. His cries for released were muffled by both the fabric of his tunic and Gen’s fingers. His legs bumped up against something as he was planted down atop it, the fingers retreating marginally, but only shifted to lightly hold him. Gen was sitting down against the thick trunk of a tree and had placed Connar onto his knee. For several seconds, neither spoke and were content to study one another. It was only when Connar began to struggle again that Gen spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you, son.”

“Yeah, sure. You’re just gonna give me to the blue coats and let them do it!”

“I would never…”

“Liar!”

“Would you shut your gob for one minute and listen to me, dammit?”

“What is there to say?” Connar demanded, his voice cracking. “We’re at war. And your King wants us all dead. We didn’t do anything!”

“I know. I know…”

“Then why? Why is this happening?” he demanded, but his voice was softer. More pleading. “We didn’t do anything…”

“I don’t understand either. I don’t know,” Gen said, looking down, with a visibly anguished expression. “But that man is not the same King I remember. The one who I loyally served for all those years. The man I knew was a just and kind man. Whatever he’s become…he is not my King. It seems that he died along with Prince Thadeus. And now some demon wears his face.”

For a long while, they did not speak and Connar took a moment to study his neighbor’s face. He looked so much older than the last time he had seen him. “…they burned our house...”

Gen nodded. “I know. I went to look for you all and found what was left. Gods…I thought for sure you’d been inside when…or that they took you.” He looked into Connar’s eyes, moisture pooling under them as he said in a hoarse voice, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happened. What’s happening. Everyone’s lost their fucking minds. The world’s gone mad and...” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “You aren’t hurt none?”

“No.”

“And your folks? Your sister? Are they…alive?”

“…yes.”

“Thank the Gods!” He said, falling back against the trunk and looking up into the canopy of trees above. “Blessed Mother, thank you.”

Connar shifted and was surprised when the fingers around him pulled back. No longer holding him, but merely cupping his back. “You…you’re not…you don’t hate us?”

“Why would I?” Gen asked. “You didn’t kill the Prince, did you?”

Connar glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then I have no reason to hate you or wish ill upon you. Or your family. I’m your friend, Connar. That at least has not changed.”

He wanted very desperately to believe Gen. If the giant did wish harm on him, why go through the pretense of making him believe otherwise? “I…I…”

“Listen to me, Connar,” Gen said before he could finish his thought and carefully scooped Connar up and placed him on his feet. “I’m gonna let you go. And you’re going to go back to your folks. Tell your father…tell Arthur that I can help. I want to help. The rangers are upping their patrols. Vhasshal is using the road only a few miles from here to transport their men into Silvaara. It isn’t safe for you all to be out here. I can protect you. Hide you. Please. Tell him.”

Struck dumb, Connar fumbled for a reply before finally nodding.

“All right,” he said with a tired nod. “I will wait near the south end of my property. If you don’t show up by sundown, I will know my answer and I won’t bother you again. I can understand…I do understand why you would not believe me. But I hope you will. I hope these passed years of friendship mean as much to you all as it has for me.”

…………………………………….

His father’s face was hard as stone and his sister wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Did he follow you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Arthur reached out and grabbed his son’s hand. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Connar said. “He…he looked really sad. And…he was crying. I think he was telling the truth.”

“But can we risk it?” his sister, Penny asked. “Maybe he just wants you to bring us all to him. For a bigger payout. They probably already gave our land to him.”

For a long time, Arthur did not speak. Heavy in thought he stared at the ground, at the cellar they’d made their home and to his children. His ill wife. Their all but used supplies.

“Dad?” Connar asked. “What do we do?”

…………………………….

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Gen said, relief clear on his face. But only Arthur stood before the giant in the small clearing at the furthest point of where his land met that of another one of their shared neighbors; a human couple who had disappeared soon after the war had begun. Connar, his sister, and mother were all back inside a thicket several yards away, hiding and waiting for Arthur’s signal.

“I do value our friendship, Gen. Which is why I’m taking this risk and hoping to the fucking Gods you aren’t lying,” Arthur slowly stepped closer, never tearing his eyes from Gen, “I’m weighing my life, my wife’s life and the lives of my children on your word.”

Gen did not move as Arthur approached.

“Marie’s been ill all this passed week,” Arthur said, tight jawed. “With the yellow reap.”

“I have medicine,” Gen quickly offered, his face slipping into concern and worry and it did not go unnoticed by Arthur.

“You would risk your own health like that?”

“Maria is a kind woman. A good mother. And my friend. As are you,” Gen replied. “Of course I would risk it.”

Arthur nodded, the hard steel of his face melting into abject relief and when he met Gen’s gaze again, it was with tears in his eyes. “I am so very glad to hear that. Because we need your help. Desperately.”

#DEAD WALLS RISE #g/t #G/t story #g/t writing #Giant/tiny #Connar #dumpling side story

23 notes · View notes

chain-unchained · 4 years ago

Text

...the game was rigged from the start.

“…You got what you were after, so pay up.”

A voice, gruff and curt as the darkness began to lift.

“You’re crying in the rain, pally.”

Another voice—lighter, carefree, calculated.

“Hm? Guess who’s waking up over here?”

A third, heavily accented. Three faces swam into view against a blinding backdrop of lights.

“Time to cash out.”

The second voice spoke again. One of the faces drew closer, too blurry to make out.

“Would you get it over with?”

The first, impatient.

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, dig?” Disdain and scorn weighed the second’s down. They drew closer, kneeling down to look the confused courier in the eye. “You’ve made your last delivery, kid.”

A shiny gun gleamed in their right hand.

“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is…”

They raised the gun and took aim, their finger resting on the trigger.

“The game was rigged from the start.”

####

Was it all a dream? Staring up at an unfamiliar darkened ceiling seemingly moments after the gunshot rang out, he struggled to recall the details once more. The faces, he couldn’t make out. It was like a fast-fading nightmare.

Who was he? He didn’t know. Where was he? He didn’t know that, either. Nothing from before that moment would come no matter how hard he tried to remember.

Simply trying to was enough to make his head feel fit to split in two, so he didn’t, and cautiously began to wiggle his extremeties. Maybe it was just a nightmare then; he was able to move around entirely too well to have taken a bullet to the grey matter.

Sitting up took some effort, though, as though his muscles had lost their strength. The shift in position made the world around him sway like a cruise ship in a storm and make his stomach churn; he had to stop once he was sitting and let things settle a bit before he tried to move again.

After a few moments, he swung shaky legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. His knees buckled slightly as he put weight on them, but they held, and he was able to stand with relative ease.

He definitely didn’t recognize this room. Nothing in it was familiar, but then again, that didn’t mean much when he couldn’t remember much of anything at all.

Faint voices filtered in through the gap under the door. Confused and more than a little curious, he took a careful step towards it, testing the waters of walking. No problems so far. Good, he at least had that much going for him.

The door swung open without him having to touch the handle, and light flooded in from the outside. He could make out two figures standing at the end of the hallway, one taller than the other—both strangers. The conversation came to a grinding halt at the sound of the hinges creaking, and their eyes were on him in an instant. Both looked extremely shocked to see him up on his feet.

“Well look who decided to join us in the world of the living.” The one who spoke first bore a weathered, wrinkly face, and he was quick to make his way towards the amnesiac man. “Here, come and take a seat. While I’m glad you’re on your feet, I want you to take it easy.”

“Should I come back another time then, doc?” The other jerked her thumb towards the front door.

“Yes, that’s probably best. Come on back this evening and I should have my list together then.”

The doc carefully led him towards a chair in another room and sat him down in it. A thousand questions flooded his mind. But where to begin?

“What happened?” He finally asked. As good a place as any.

“You took a bullet to the head.”

So it hadn’t been a nightmare. That just raised more questions, like—

“How am I even alive?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. You’ll have to tell me your secret once you figure it out.” The doc pulled up a chair on wheels and sat down in front of him with a bag in hand. “By all rights, you should be dead. The fact that you’re up on your feet, and talking, is nothing short of miraculous.”

He dug around inside and pulled out various medical instruments, with which he began to check all of the man’s vitals. “My name is Doc Mitchell, by the by. Can you tell me yours?”

“… I... don’t remember.”

“Not unexpected, I suppose.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Afraid not. You aren’t from around these parts as far as I know. We found you in a grave up in the local cemetery. Well,” the doc tugged the stethoscope from his ears and draped it around his neck, “I say we, but it was really ol’ Victor.”

“Did he know me?”

“Don’t rightly think so.” He patted the man’s shoulder. “Didn’t find anything to identify you in your personal effects either… ‘cept for a note, but I don’t think it’ll help much.”

“Could I see it?”

With a push, the doc rolled over to the nearby desk and picked up a piece of paper lying by a ham radio. He returned to the man and handed it to him. It was fragile, practically falling apart in his fingers.

Instructions for Courier Six

Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express Delivery agency in Primm.

Bonus on completion: 250 caps.

MANIFEST

This package contains:

One (1) oversized poker chip, composed of platinum

CONTRACT PENALTIES

You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss. Failure to deliver the proper recipient may result in forteiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclaimation teams. The Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life you experience as a result of said reclamation efforts.

His head swam as the words all filtered into his brain. It was a lot to take in all at once, and he read each part several times to make sure he fully understood them—it didn’t help.

“If only it had your name on it, eh?” Doc gave him an apologetic smile. “I tried radioing into Primm to ask about it myself, but I couldn’t get ahold of anyone. Still, it won’t do to just keep referrin’ to you as the fella that got shot, so is there a name you’d like us to call you in the meanwhile?”

“… Courier Six sounds like a name. I like that.”

Doc’s brow raised. The cognitive damage was worse than he’d thought. “… If that’s what you want. How about just Six?”

Six nodded. It would do for now.

#writing sprint #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #fonv #fallout: new vegas #fallout: nv #new vegas #new vegas courier

4 notes · View notes

headfulloffantasies · 5 years ago

Text

Haunted Destiny

What if the magic of Rapunzel’s tear had not worked? Eugene is dead, and someone is haunting Rapunzel.

Link- Ao3

Rated-G

Major Character Death (Eugene, off screen/ pre-fic)

Chapter 1

It happened like this: Mother’s knife slid between Eugene’s ribs. Rapunzel bartered her life for Eugene’s. She opened her lips to sing and he asked her to wait. A shard of mirror sliced through the golden magic hair. Mother fell from the tower window, reduced to dust. Rapunzel cried out, but there was nothing to be done. Her hair was gone, shorn short by the man dying before her. They said their good-byes. Eugene called Rapunzel his new dream.

Eugene died.

And though Rapunzel wept, and sang her healing song, the magic was gone. Eugene was gone.

Rapunzel didn’t immediately leave her tower. The secret stairs waited, the door unlocked, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet. She’d only descended those stairs once. To bury Eugene at first light the day after he died. The dirt at the edge of the pond was soft enough to dig. Rapunzel threaded flowers through his hair and made a cross for a marker. She painstakingly carved the Corona sun into the wood and painted his name in blue like his vest.

Rapunzel looked up at the path that led to the city. It pulled at her. Her new life, her parents, the kingdom.

Her new dream was dead, and Rapunzel needed time before she could face the rest of her life. The next day she woke to the sun streaming through the window and she knew. Today was the day. Time to go.

Rapunzel packed slowly. She’d lived here for eighteen years. Though she’d hated parts of it, it was home. She needed things. Her paints, her books, her frying pan. She packed them into Eugene’s satchel, the one thing of his she’d let herself keep.

Rapunzel gathered Pascal onto her shoulder. His scales turned a dull shade of blue.

“Me too, buddy. But it’s time to go,” she said. She turned to the stairs.

A crash startled Rapunzel. She whipped around. A ceramic bowl lay in shattered pieces on the floor.

Rapunzel cast her eyes about, but she didn’t see any reason for the bowl to have fallen.

“That was weird,” she mumbled to Pascal. Rapunzel turned back to the stairs. The door, a little wood trapdoor set into the floor, creaked.

“The wind?” Rapunzel muttered.

The door slammed shut.

Rapunzel jumped. “Not the wind!” Rapunzel clutched at Pascal. “What is it?”

Cold like frost crept up the back of her neck. Rapunzel dashed for the trapdoor. She yanked on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Something tickled the hairs on her arms.

“The door is stuck!” Rapunzel grunted, throwing her weight against it. Pascal leaped from her shoulder and tried pulling with her.

Something moved in the corner of Rapunzel’s vision. She snapped her head up. A pale figure flickered in the center of the room. Nearly transparent, it was impossible to make out any features.

“A ghost!” Rapunzel screamed. She tripped and fell back, her hand colliding with the broken bowl. She hissed as the shards cut into her palm. The ghost vanished and reappeared an instant later, close enough to touch.

“Back off!” Rapunzel swung her uninjured fist. It passed through the apparition like air. The ghost faded like mist with a sigh.

Rapunzel cradled her bloody hand to her chest, breathing hard. She stood and spun, searching for the ghost. It seemed to have disappeared for now. Rapunzel’s heartrate doubled.

“It’s trapping us here, Pascal,” she whispered. The thought hit her like a sledgehammer. “It must be Mother’s ghost. She doesn’t want me to leave.” Rapunzel’s breaths hitched into hiccups. Tears ran down her face.

“I’m going!” She shouted to the empty tower. “You can’t stop me anymore!”

Nothing answered.

The cut on Rapunzel’s hand was deeper than she’d thought. It took ages to stop bleeding. Finally, she bound it tight and approached the trapdoor again. She tugged and strained, but it didn’t budge. The sun was dying crimson on the horizon when Rapunzel finally gave up. Panting and worn out, she trudged up to her bedroom.

“We’ll find some rope tomorrow,” Rapunzel promised Pascal. “I’ll tear up the bedsheets if I have to. But it’s too dark to travel right now. We’ll start in the morning.”

Rapunzel fell into exhausted sleep immediately. She dreamed of rolling green fields, swirling sunbeams, and laughter. She danced in the town square again, whirling from partner to partner. Every time she changed hands, she looked into their face and felt disappointment cloying her stomach. Rapunzel turned her head, searching the clapping and laughing crowds for a face she could not name. Brown hair, brown eyes. Every flash of blue drew her, but it was never who she was looking for. The spinning was making her dizzy. Rapunzel closed her eyes.

“Blondie,” a voice sighed in her ear. Rapunzel opened her eyes and woke up.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel whispered into the grey dawn. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her heart ached. How long would she feel this? How long was it going to hurt before she could look back and smile at the dream they’d shared? How long until it stopped feeling like the blade Mother wielded had pierced Rapunzel’s heart?

Pascal chirped on the pillow beside her. His tail flicked away the tear that had trailed down her cheek.

Rapunzel gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Pascal.” She sat up and stretched. “We’re getting out of here today. Let’s go.”

Rapunzel ended up tearing the sheets. She knotted the linens together and tossed one end out the window, leaning out to measure how far. The makeshift rope didn’t quite reach the grass, but it was close enough to jump the last bit.

Rapunzel secured the rope on the hook above the window and gave it a tug.

“Ready Pascal?” Rapunzel brushed her new bangs out of her face. The little chameleon let out an excited chirp.

“Here we go!” Rapunzel leaped out the window. The soaring air rushed through her hair and lungs. It was almost as good as the first time. The sheets slid through Rapunzel’s fingers. The grass came up to meet them. Rapunzel tightened her grip and slowed their descent. The last five feet or so ended in open air. Rapunzel held her breath and let go.

Rapunzel’s feet hit the ground hard. Something in her left ankle gave with a stomach churning pop. Rapunzel cried out as she hit the grass, her legs giving out under her. She lay still for a second gasping on pain. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself to sitting. Her ankle didn’t look broken. She tried flexing it. A spasm of pain lanced up her calf. Rapunzel hissed. It was definitely sprained.

“Great,” Rapunzel mumbled. How was she supposed to walk through the woods on a sprained ankle? She glanced back up at the tower. There was no way she could pull herself back up the rope. Maybe she could make it to the stairs, but then what? The door was barred by the ghost. A shudder ran through Rapunzel. She wasn’t staying here. She had to get away from the ghost of Mother.

With a wince, Rapunzel pulled herself to her feet. She tested her injured foot. It hurt, but she could limp on it. Rapunzel gathered Pascal onto her shoulder and set her sights on the cave beyond the meadow. If she could make it to the woods, she could fashion a crutch out of a tree branch.

The sun crested the tops of the trees and fell on the fresh turned earth beside the pond. Rapunzel’s heart sank. She knew deep down she was never coming back here. Time to say good-bye.

Rapunzel knelt beside the marker she’d made.

“Eugene Fitzherbert,” Rapunzel ran her fingers over the letters.

Tears splashed down her face. Through the haze, she suddenly noticed a pale form standing behind the grave.

Rapunzel leaped to her feet, her ankle protesting.

“What do you want?” She asked, her voice shaking.

The ghost did not answer. In the sunlight, Rapunzel could see the green meadow right through its form. It stepped closer.

“I’m leaving, Mother,” Rapunzel lifted her chin defiantly. “You can’t stop me.”

The pale figure’s fingers closed over the cross. Red hot rage spiked through Rapunzel.

“Get away from there!” She yelled. “You already killed him, you don’t get to touch this place.”

The figure flickered and vanished. Rapunzel let out a wobbly breath. Her head was spinning with adrenaline and emotion. She quickly dried her eyes.

Casting one last long look at the grave, Rapunzel clutched her satchel strap and hobbled towards the cave entrance.

It took all day to limp into Corona. At last the bridge to the island was in view. Rapunzel leaned heavily on the crutch she’d made. The sun striking the parapets of the castle glowed like a jewel. She sighed happily. She’d been so excited the first time she’d been here. Pulling Eugene along the bridge, prancing around Maximus, spinning in the sunshine. It had been the perfect day.

Getting to the castle was easy. Convincing the guards that she was the Lost Princess was another thing. Well aware of her disheveled hair, crutch, and dirty dress, Rapunzel still thought they could at least listen to her.

“Fellas, I’ve walked a long way today,” Rapunzel explained with a winning smile. “And I just want to see the King and Queen. They’ll know it’s me.”

The guard on the left, Stan, shared a glance with his partner, Pete.

“I have proof!” Rapunzel dug into her satchel and produced the missing crown. The mustached guard’s jaw dropped. Rapunzel felt a twinge of pride that at last they believed her.

“Come here!” Pete the guard snatched Rapunzel’s arm in a vice grip. “You’re under arrest for the theft of the crown jewels.”

“What? No,” Rapunzel’s spirit dropped in dismay. Stan yanked the crown from her grasp.

Pete frog marched Rapunzel down the cold stone steps to the dungeons. “Please,” Rapunzel begged. “I’m telling the truth. I’ve been in a tower for eighteen years. I’m the Lost Princess.”

“Sure you are,” Pete growled. He shoved Rapunzel into a dank cell. “And I’m the Queen of Geneva.”

The cell door slammed shut. Rapunzel sank onto the damp bench that served as a cot. Pascal wiggled out of his hiding spot under her collar to chirp at Rapunzel.

“How did this go so wrong?” Rapunzel asked. “I thought… I thought they’d welcome me. I thought they’d love me.” Rapunzel pulled her knees up to her chest. “I was wrong. I was naïve, Pascal.” She turned to her little green friend. “Do you think… do you think my parents gave up on me? It’s been so long, maybe they think the princess is gone for good.”

Rapunzel fell into a fitful sleep. She kept hearing a voice calling for her, but every time she turned around, no one was there.

Rapunzel woke with a start. Nighttime whispered through her tiny barred window. Something had woken her. A noise. There it was again. A scraping of metal on stone. Rapunzel sat up. The cell door swung open.

Rapunzel gasped. The torch light was faint down here, but she could just make out a white figure at the bars. Rapunzel whimpered and curled in on herself.

“Go away,” she whispered. The ghost vanished.

The door remained open. Hesitantly, Rapunzel stood and poked her head out. Pascal chirped on her shoulder. She glanced down. A worried frown tugged the corners of her friend’s mouth.

“I know,” Rapunzel whispered. “There’s got to be guards around here somewhere, right? But if we can sneak passed them-,”

A scream cut her off. “Ghost!”

Rapunzel cringed. Heavy boots thundered down the long stone hallway. A pair of guards hurtled passed her cell, too intent on the shriek still emanating from out of sight to notice Rapunzel was no longer secure.

Rapunzel crouched in the dark corner of her cell until their footsteps receded.

“C’mon,” Rapunzel tucked Pascal into the crook of her neck and slipped out of the cell. She made to limp away from the screaming, but an approaching glow of torchlight illuminated the hallway from that direction. Stomping footsteps brought the light closer. Rapunzel scrambled to stay ahead of the light. She frantically scoured the hall for a door, a corner, anywhere she could escape the chasing guards. The wailing grew louder.

At last Rapunzel came to a fork in the hallway. The yelling came from the left, the right was dark and quiet. She dove to the right just as the torch caught up to her. Three guards whirled passed, heading to the left.

Rapunzel panted and slid to the ground, taking the pressure off her ankle. The voices around the corner grew louder. Rapunzel held her breath and listened.

“Shut up, Stan!”

“Tell us what happened.”

“What did you see?”

The screaming finally died into blubbering. Through the panicked sobs, Rapunzel heard Stan stammer, “A ghost! It attacked me. Flew out of the rafters. Flew through the wall!”

Muttering accompanied Stan’s account.

“I saw it!” Stan yelled, making Rapunzel jump. “White as bone and floating. It didn’t have a face.”

Rapunzel shuddered. Mother’s ghost had indeed followed her, it seemed. She had to get out here. Rapunzel groped her way along the stone hallway. Eventually, limping, she came to a set of stairs leading up. Rapunzel followed them, her bare feet silent on the steps. A massive door sat at the top of the stairs. Praying it wasn’t locked, Rapunzel tried the latch. It opened under her hand.

Rapunzel crept out into pale moonlight. Her feet sank into lush carpet. A long corridor spread before her, lined with white doors to the right and soaring windows to the left. Rapunzel looked down at Pascal. He shrugged. She’d just have to try the doors until one let her outside. She couldn’t stay in the castle any longer.

Rapunzel’s hands shook as she tried the first door. It was locked. She opted for the next one. Locked. Every door was barred. Rapunzel’s heart pounded. Each passing second was a chance for the guards to discover her missing. Finally, Rapunzel tried the last door in the corridor. The latch gave. She slid inside with a sigh of relief.

The ceilings of the room soared. A balcony window let an ocean of moonlight bathe the room. Rapunzel hobbled towards the balcony. Maybe there would be some ivy to climb down. Her eye caught on the center piece of the room. A baby basinet. Curiosity piqued; Rapunzel tip toed closer. A purple blanket draped over the crib, emblazoned with the sun of Corona. A tiny rattle lay in the crib. Rapunzel plucked it up with shaking fingers.

This was mine, the realisation hit. Rapunzel stood in the Lost Princess’ room.

“Who’s there?” The voice startled Rapunzel. She dropped the rattle. It clattered against the marble floor.

“I’m sorry,” Rapunzel stuttered. “I’m, uh, I’m lost. I didn’t mean to-,”

Out of the shadow stepped a huge man in a robe of flowing purple. On his head, a crown winked in the moonlight.

Rapunzel gasped. “You’re the King.” The King frowned under his mustache.

Rapunzel dropped into a curtsy to hide the expression on her face. Her father. She was facing her father.

“Come here,” a match struck and the King held up a candle. “Let me see you.”

Rapunzel limped forward. She kept her eyes respectfully downwards.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. His voice was gruff, but Rapunzel noted the lack of anger.

She took a deep breath. Now or never. Rapunzel lifted her head. “I’m the Lost Princess.”

The frown darkened to a scowl. “Young lady-,”

“My name is Rapunzel,” she interrupted. “Eighteen years ago, a woman named Gothel stole me away. I’ve been in a tower ever since. She stole me because I had the power of a magic flower. But,” Rapunzel stumbled over her explanation. “I don’t anymore. Eugene, my… my friend, he cut my hair to save me. He saved my life,” she whispered the last phrase to herself.

Rapunzel watched the King’s face. He remained frozen, with his lips parted, staring at her. Suddenly the candlestick dropped from his grasp. Rapunzel flinched as it hit the marble floor.

“Can it be?” The King reached out for Rapunzel. “Is it really you?”

He cupped Rapunzel’s chin and lifted her face. A breathless laugh escaped the King. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Tears flooded the King’s eyes. He wrapped Rapunzel in a crushing hug. She clung back, her heart soaring. This was all she ever wanted. Years of dreaming. With a pang, Rapunzel wished Eugene could see this. He had sacrificed himself for this moment.

The King pulled back. “Come with me,” he tugged her hand. “We have to tell your mother.”

#haunted destiny #tangled #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #fanfic #fanfiction #disney #ghost #why do i always write paranormal fics?

37 notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years ago

Text

When the Sun Sleeps in Canto Bight [7]

Previous Entire Work CHAPTER PLAYERS Kylo Ren, Leader of the Knights of Ren The Knights of Ren Enric Pryde, Sheev Palpatine’s right hand Sheev Palpatine, leader of the Palpatine Gang Rey Vale, Sheev’s granddaughter Ruby Girard, The Beautiful Singer Crystal Canon, Ruby’s roommate CHAPTER CONTENT Some Language; a little fluff; possessiveness (or signs of it?) Word Count: 1,973

With his Knights behind him, Kylo Ren walked into the Death Star Club. Kylo never really paid attention to how establishments looked, but this place was drab. Old wallpaper practically peeling away. Lit with what seemed like the first light bulbs ever invented, and from what they could tell from the lobby, filled with people who probably remembered the block when it was “nothing but trees”. They approached the hatcheck girl. “Mr. Ren?” the blonde asked before they could even speak. “Yeah,” Kylo responded, leaning on her counter. “Mr. Palpatine has been expecting you.” She picked up a phone and rotated the dial, eyeing Kylo seductively as she did so. He smirked and laughed in his mind, and in his mind only. “Mr. Palpatine’s guests are here.” A tall, grey-haired man with icy blue eyes led the Knights through the club, out a back door, through an alley, and into a small office building behind the club. Kylo took everything in. It was a long fucking walk, but he understood its purpose, and was actually impressed. Precautionary. They’d probably stalled many a person with this trek.

Sheev Palpatine was seated behind a heavy walnut desk, and a dark-haired woman sat on the other side. She turned around at the sound of footsteps and quickly rose to face the guests. Her hand instinctively rested on her skirted hip. “Kylo Ren...” Palpatine said with lifted arms. “I see you brought the whole gang.” Kylo stepped to Palpatine and kissed his hand. Then, he looked the young woman up and down. She scooted away and stood at the old man’s side. Then, she let her hand from her hip. “Nice to see you, Vic,” he said. “Likewise, Sheev.” “Young Ushar. Not so young anymore, huh?” Ushar grunted. “No, sir.” “Is this little Rey?” Vic asked. Rey pressed her lips together in a reluctant smile. She nodded. “Hello, Mr. Arden. Long time no see.” Her eyes fell back on Kylo. Annoyance filled her irises again. “May I sit?” Kylo asked. “Yes, yes. Everyone take a seat,” Palpatine said. “Thanks, Enric.” The man who’d led the Knights into the office nodded and stood at the door. The Knights exchanged pleasantries with Palpatine and an awkward Rey, before Palpatine finally asked to speak with Kylo alone. “I’m just going to cut to the chase, son...” Palpatine started. They sat in another office with only a banker’s desk lamp illuminating the room. He’d left only about an inch of space between the door and its hinge. “I’m not getting any younger. My gang, we’re all a bunch of old fellas. No young guys. So, having said that, I want to make you a proposition.” Kylo leaned back in the leather seat. “What kinda proposition?” “I’d like to retire in a few years. I don’t know when, but soon. I want to see the world. Lounge by an ocean. Go on a safari. Go fishing and smell the fresh air atop some mountains...” Kylo’s heart began to thump with anxiety-inducing impatience. He swallowed and shifted in his seat. “I’ve done well, I think. Made good money. Haven’t run into too much trouble. Taken care of the...situations...that have caused me trouble. But that’s been rare, surprisingly.” “Uh huh,” Kylo interjected, hoping to rush him along. Palpatine straightened his spine. “Well, young Kylo...I’d like for us to partner up. Merge, if you will. Work together and split the profits...” “Why didn’t you merge with Ren?” Kylo shot at him like a ping-pong ball. Palpatine huffed and smirked. “Reese wasn’t too keen on working with others. And...I think my affiliation with the police gave him reservations.” “So, he didn’t trust you,” Kylo concluded. “What makes you think I would trust you?” Palpatine shrugged. “I’m an old man who chews tobacco twice a day and has to carry a fucking inhaler when the weather is too hot, or too cold because I have the lungs of a damn newborn.” He laughed sorrowfully at himself.

“I have nothing to gain from fucking you over.”

Kylo leaned back in the seat again and looked into Palpatine’s eyes--searching. Wondering. Curious. “When I retire,” Palpatine continued. “I want to put my businesses into trustworthy hands. I like you, Kylo. You’re loyal. You were loyal to my cousin. You’re loyal to your guys...” “Don’t you have kids?” Kylo asked. “Why can’t you pass the business down to them?” Palpatine rose from his seat and walked to the window. “My ex-wife kept my children as far away from the business as possible. They don’t want anything to do with it. They’re all adults with grandchildren of their own, now. Living in weatherboard houses with picket fences.” "Is that girl in there your daughter?” “My granddaughter.” “Why won’t you let her take over?” Kylo asked. Palpatine whirled around to look at him. “Do you think it’s proper to let a woman go into this business?” “Nothing we do is deemed “proper”, Mr. Palpatine.” “Hmph,” Palpatine grunted.

“Nonetheless. I don’t want to make a target out of my own granddaughter. She’s good with numbers. In fact, she’s been quite the asset these last few years. But it would be irresponsible of me to put her in such a dangerous position.” Palpatine sat back down.

“But anyway. You’ve got the guts and the brawn, Kylo. Reese always spoke highly of you. You’re young and burning with passion. A little temperamental, he said. But you’ve got something that not too many people in our industry have. That Organa blood...” Kylo felt his eye twitch.

“Why, if I were the descendant of Organa family, I’d own nightclubs, bars, hotels, restaurants, and even fucking beauty parlors if I could.” Kylo’s leg began to bounce, but he rubbed his knee to self-sooth. “I appreciate the high praise, Mr. Palpatine. And the offer. But, I just ain’t that interested in partnerin’ up with anybody.”

He rose from his chair. “I like what the Knights of Ren have goin’ now. Everyone is taken care of. We don’t need more. Too much more puts too many eyes on you.” “I disagree,” Palpatine responded. He rose from his chair, as well. “But I respect your decision.” He shook Kylo’s hand. “But I want you to know that I’m not sharing this offer with anyone else. If you ever change your mind, and as long as I’m still alive, the offer will remain on the table.” ______________________ “May I help you?” Crystal asked. She blew cigarette smoke through the side of her mouth. “Is Ruby home?” Kylo asked. “Kylo?” Ruby called. Crystal looked over her shoulder, and reluctantly widened the wooden door. Kylo looked her up and down, then sauntered into the living room. Something good was cooking on the stove. “What are you doing here?” Ruby asked. She wore an apron over a green dress and a scarf on her head. Suddenly conscious of her appearance, she touched her hair and cringed at the feeling of her scarf. “I came to see you,” he said. He walked to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her close, but Ruby winced in his embrace. “Kylo, this is Crystal. Crystal, Kylo,” she said hastily. He smirked and pulled away, catching the hint. Then, he turned to Crystal and tipped his invisible hat. “Pleasure.” “Hmph...” Crystal responded. She exhaled smoke and disappeared into the kitchen. “Crystal can you turn the pot off?!” Ruby called. “What’s wrong wit’ her?” Kylo asked. They heard the click of the oven’s knob. “She doesn’t like you,” Ruby whispered. She peeked at the kitchen’s entryway, then stood on her tiptoes. She planted a kiss a Kylo’s lips. “Mmm...” he said, licking his lips.

He pulled away and looked around the living room--the old sofa, the rug; the vases of flowers in various places.

“Not too bad.” “It’s not bad at all,” Ruby responded, putting her hands on her hips. “I can give you better,” he said, eyes falling back on her. He watched her walk toward, then pass him to her sofa. She took a seat. “I can give myself better.” Kylo eased down beside her and pulled her legs onto his lap. “I can give it to you quicker.” Ruby laughed and shook her head, unable to shoot something back at him. “What do you want, Babydoll?” he asked. He ran his fingertips up and down her bare leg. “What do I want?” she repeated, hoping for clarity. “Yeah. What do you want in this life?” “I want...” Ruby started. Kylo was watching her attentively--and it made her nervous. She drew in a deep breath.

“I want to sell so many records and do so many gigs, that I make enough money to not only get myself a house on a hill, but get my parents one, too.” “What else?” Ruby shrugged. “I don’t think I want anything else.” “I can give you that if you let me. That and more.” Kylo’s fingers moved up her legs and rested on her thigh. “Kylo...?” Ruby mumbled. “Hmm?” “Are you being serious with me right now?” she asked. “Yeah, I’m bein’ serious.” “No, I mean. Are you just foolin’ around, or are you serious about me?” Kylo’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, I’m fuckin’ serious about you. Where the fuck is this comin’ from?”

“Can you stop saying fuck?” Ruby asked through clenched teeth. “Babydoll,” he started, rubbing her thigh. “The moment I stepped into that fu--into that restaurant, I knew I wanted to make you mine.” “Yours. Like a possession.” Kylo took in her face. Her eyes and lips were steady. She wanted clarity, he knew. She wanted to know exactly what he wanted from her. Maybe “make you mine” wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was what he felt. He wasn’t a “love at first sight” kinda guy. He was barely even a “love” kinda guy. But he was a “listen to your gut” kinda guy--and his gut told him that the girl on that stage was his wife. “Well, I ain’t got no problem bein’ yours, too,” he said. Ruby gazed upon his eyes, noticing that the apartment’s light illuminated the true color of his irises. She could hear Crystal’s spoon clinking against her bowl in the distance. “A man like you doesn’t belong to anybody, Kylo." “No, I belong to you. I go all my adult life never feelin’ anything for anybody. Then I walk into the Galaxy, and boom, all of a sudden I’m feelin’ butterflies and shit? Shit like that don’t happen for no reason.” Ruby sighed and looked straight ahead, staring at nothing in particular. “We barely even know, each other, Kylo. This is some heavy talk.” “Well, all I know is what my gut tells me. My gut told me the moment I saw you, that you was my wife. And my gut is always right.” Ruby looked back at Kylo and just shook her head in shock. It was a good shock. Emotion was overriding logic. She didn’t think Kylo was lying to her at all. “And I know you want me, too. I know you feel what I feel,” Kylo continued. “You’re just too busy tryin’ to figure out somethin’ that’s already figured out.” Kylo watched Ruby’s chest move up and down. He heard the air each time it left her nostrils. “I’m not supposed to trust men like you,” she said. “And you ain’t supposed to be wearin’ lipstick and goin’ to picture shows and singin’ about things that ain’t about the gods, but you do all of that anyway, don’t you?” "You would throw that back in my face,” Ruby mumbled jokingly. Kylo smiled and ran his hand back down to her legs, and right back up to her thigh. Ruby watched each movement, then looked back into his eyes. “You wanna stay for dinner?” she asked.

#when the sun sleeps in canto bight

7 notes · View notes