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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Of monsters and men fic

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thatslikely · 4 years ago

Text

we - g.w.

we - george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of food, tooth rotting fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: ok... this was meant to be 800 words ish but I guess I just can’t write blurbs?? i think my shortest work ever was 800 soooo

“Hey, Georgie,” you said hesitantly, tapping him on his broad shoulder, “we need to talk.”

The laugh that quirked his lips and crinkled the edges of his chocolate eyes you weren’t shy of adoring fell as flat as the icy Black Lake during the harsh winter months. The slightest wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, nonchalant concern seeping through his pores.

The phrase you just uttered never led to anything remotely good. Those four dreaded words are what ended his juvenile relationship with Katie Bell all the way back in fourth year. Bill had stated the four words as he sat down a ten-year-old George so many years ago, who loved his older brother dearly, and broke the news that he would be indefinitely moving to Egypt.

It was safe to say he didn’t have a great history with the phrase.

With worry wincing his features, he agreed. “Sure, darling. Everything all right?” You nodded, grabbing his wrist and dragging him away from the group of Gryffindors that he had previously been enthralled with in conversation.

He sat on your curtained dorm bed with a creak uncomfortably, as if he were a guest visiting your house for the first time. “You look like you’re about to explode Georgie, relax,” you meekly smiled. “I just have something to tell you.”

The heel of his shoes lifted up and down, causing his knee to bounce every so slightly, a habit that was only expressed when fear truly racked his body. With a dry mouth and averted gaze, you said, “you see, after Hogwarts, there’s been a little change in plans.”

“I want to attend a Muggle college.”

“The Muggle world’s a lot bigger than I thought,” George said thoughtfully as his tongue licked vertical stripes up the scoop of ice cream in his palm. “No one ever told me there were so many places to go and see and do.”

“Yeah, they never did talk about its expansiveness back at school. Even Muggle Studies barely scratched the surface.”

As your mind swam through the previous school year, which was packed full with laughs, pranks galore, romantic dates with your titian-haired boyfriend, and an awful case of senioritis, George swiftly lurched to steal a bite from your cone with a mischievous smirk.

However, you were too quick for him, you always had been, and your treat was safe from his stomach. “Not today, Weasley.”

“Bummer. I regret not getting that flavor, ‘looks delicious.”

“I guess I’ll let you have one bite.” You turned your cone in his direction, and unsurprisingly, he snatched it from your grasp, dashing away from you, laughs interspersed with joking taunts escaping his strawberry cream-coated lips.

“Get back here!” you shouted at the lanky, retreating figure, moving your legs swiftly after him.

The sun had risen tranquilly to the center of the dreamy, blue sky above, and its golden beams were trickling down from overhead. The weather fostered the perfect atmosphere to tour one of the college campuses you had been accepted into, accompanied by no one but the doting, red-haired boy you could call your’s.

The brilliant idea of attending Muggle college had stemmed from Hermione, who one day in the library, when stacks of yellowing books and dusty pages crammed with research enveloped the two of you in a world of strictly academia, mentioned in passing that it was on her list of possible things to do post-Hogwarts.

Before you had learned that the blood coursing through your brains contained traces of magic-harnessing abilities, university had seemed some distant end goal expected from you after graduating high school. That notion had been quickly swept aside when you learned of your wizard ancestry and you received a letter informing you that you would attend Hogwarts first thing the next fall.

But now, observing the cliques of college students sauntering around the open-aired quad, you realized that this was the next step for you. The only next step for you.

“Hey, Y/N, I have a question,” a sixth-year George asked as his thumb lovingly caressed your skin, leaving warm, tingly patches in its wake. “When me and Fred open the shop the moment we’re out of here, will you come live with us? Me?”

“There’ll be a homey flat above the shop, perfect for us. Fred’ll be there too, of course, but I reckon we’ll have plenty of time just the two of us.” George’s umber eyes scanned your face in an attempt to know what thoughts and opinions ran through your mind. He meant what he said: he couldn’t imagine not seeing you after the both of your educations concluded.

“I’ll live anywhere as long as you’re with me, Georgie,” you replied with a grin.

A small chip of guilt flaked off your heart when you knowingly broke the promise you had sworn by not even two years ago. You outright refused to attend any universities not within the UK, as part of your internal compromise for leaving George.

George was beyond happy for you, though, and he was not shy of showing it. He’d unabashedly boast around the Great Hall or common room practically every day, saying with a smirk oozing with pride and joy, “I’ve got the smartest girl ever. She’s going to college.”

You and George strolled along the brick-pathed sidewalks and trails, admiring the different buildings with elegant architecture. When you two walked past the dorm rooms, varicolored flags could be seen draped from the windows; in the patches of well-groomed green that dotted the landscape, students were tossing frisbees and eating sandwiches on picnic blankets.

It was like no school you had ever attended, and you were undeniably enamoured by it.

As the afternoon faded away, conquered with a sweeping tsunami of darkness, the silver moon encroached closer to the pinkened sky. You and George treated yourselves to a nice dinner on the river, at a restaurant that you wouldn’t dream of dining at again if you chose to enroll.

You and George had covered all the logistics of college: how it worked, where you would live, when he could visit.

“Maybe Fred and I will open a shop down here someday,” he said, forking a bit of the food before him. “You think college students (or to-be college students in your case) would like pranks?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them, by the looks of campus so far.”

He gave you a genuine, innocent smile (his mouth still full of food, not unlike a squirrel’s), as if to say ‘it’s settled then.’ “You never were the neatest eater,” you giggled.

“I can be sophisticated if I want to!” he rebutted.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Definitely. One-hundred percent. No doubt about it. I’ll take you to another nice restaurant one of these days and watch me have the best manners ever!”

The string lights illuminating the patio looked great, the beads of contained golden light highlighting every detail about him that you love so much. It shone on the faint, near indistinguishable scar on his eyebrow from a failed prank when he was six. The glint of pure love in his eyes that he held ever since he laid eyes on you back in fifth year. The way one specific tessel of his soft ginger hair would never sit quite right, no matter how many gels and spells he’d apply.

The boy opposite you was so easily tempted to simper and tease you for so blatantly staring at him, every inch of him it seemed, as it was a trait him and his twin could never rid. But instead, a fuse in his brain finally clicked; the final piece of a undeniably complex and breathtaking puzzle fell into place, and he finally made up his mind.

He smiled warmly, his eyes prickling with joy. It wasn’t a grin of the same nature as one derived from one of his pranks, or a clever jab Fred would crack: it was an expression of ultimate contentment, resulted from the pure emotions that sputtered through his chest like a firecracker.

“You think we should apply here?” He’d accepted the fact that he had been grappling with for so long: there was no way he’d live without you, and if that meant leaving Fred the shop for a while, or even delaying its construction, then so be it.

“We?”

“We.”

general taglist:

@amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @accioweaslcy @theweasleytwinsgirl

twins/george taglist:

@horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972

send me an ask or dm to be added!

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thesameasbe4 · 4 years ago

Text

Tangled Up in Tuscany

Sebastian Stan showing all of us that he’s really just a normal guy with a nice jaw line.

It wasn’t my first time in Tuscany, but the last time had been over ten years ago on a high school trip. I wasn’t expecting it to be quite the same experience this time, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I stepped into the grand entrance of the hotel, doing my best not to look too out of place amidst the fine room and well dressed people. I had not traveled with the rest of the wedding party out of Atlanta, unlike the rest of them, I had a real job and couldn’t just take off three weeks for a luxurious wedding, so I was the last to arrive by about five days. And in that time I had been bombarded by the photos and messages on the bridal party group text of all the extravagant things they had been doing. Touring old churches, wine tasting, eating at the most elegant restaurants. While I was a tad jealous, I also got the impression that doing these things in the company of the other bridesmaids would perhaps detract from the overall experience. So it was what it was.

The door man walked me to the front desk where I shyly greeted the shrewd desk clerk. “Hi, I should have a reservation under LeBlanc.” I spelled it and his rather illustrious eyebrows lifted. “Tu parle francaise?” The man asked.

I smiled a little and shook my head, “Non, je ne parle pas francais, je parle l’anglais.”

“But it is a French name yes?” He pressed, and I responded in the affirmative. Seeming in better spirits he motioned to a man standing to my left in some kind of negotiation with another clerk. “It seems you two are here for the same event, do you know each other?”

I looked again at the man, he had dark brown hair and a five o’clock shadow covering his strong jaw line. He fit in here, dressed in his well cut European suit and perfectly coiffed hair. Returning my focus to the clerk and straightening my posture, I responded, “Nope, never met him.”

“I think you stole my room,” the gentleman interjected in what I was surprised to hear was an American accent.

I raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Indeed? I have arrived just now, so I don’t know how that can be possible.”

“No look, I think Liz switched the name on the last available room,” he persisted.

“Well I guess you do know the bride then,” I said, noting his casual use of my friend’s name. I replied, “Why would she do that?”

“Look I don’t know, but Joe said there was a room waiting for me here and that was a few days ago.”

I pulled out my phone, planning on giving the bride and groom a call to get this sorted out when the big white numbers on the screen reminded me that it was 3 AM. Sighing, I looked at the clerk, “Are there any more vacant rooms?”

“No madame,” he responded, his voice pinched again like when I first arrived, “that was how we first developed this misunderstanding.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I looked again at the gentleman, “Can you prove you know Liz and Joe?” He reached in to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped around till he found what he wanted and handed it to me.

“That was two years ago in Prague, we worked a movie together.” My eye swept the screen, finally making out the face of the man that stood before me in a cluster of several other people dressed in period clothing. “Also, Joe is allergic to shellfish, which he learned while in Hawaii only after eating an entire shrimp and pineapple pizza.” I laughed, anyone who knew Joe had heard that story.

“Well, you can bunk in my room tonight if you are desperate, then we can get this all settled at a decent hour tomorrow.” I wiggled my room card at him.

“I don’t wan’t to impose,” he said, suddenly looking concerned.

“Look, you already have. All I want is a hot shower and a few hours of sleep, and this compromise is now the quickest way to getting that.”

Maintaining eye contact with me he worried his lower lip, “okay, I guess.”

So we made our way to the elevator. “And I do really appreciate it,” he said as the elevator started going up, “I hope I wasn’t too rude, I just always have really bad luck in Italy.”

“Well let’s hope this trip breaks the cycle, cause I don’t know that I will get another shot at a Tuscany vacation.” I said stepping out of the elevator and into the hallway, locating our door by the small pile of bags that were waiting for us.

I handed him the key as I gathered my things. “Um, I think we made a very American mistake,” came a voice from inside the room.”

“Huh?” I said confusedly, groaning as I came to stand next to him. The room only had one bed.

…

A string of profanity ambled out of my mouth as I stripped in the bathroom. I had insisted that I didn’t need to be put up in such a nice hotel, especially if Liz was paying for me, but no, she wanted me to be with the rest of the wedding party, she wanted me to get along with her fancy Hollywood friends. So here I was in a swanky ass hotel with a strange man that I had, in my fatigue and delirium, decided to trust.

After several minutes of letting the hot water loosen my back and shoulders I climbed out of the shower and slipped into a pair of leggings and a tank top. “It’s all yours,” I said as I traipsed past the much too small bed on which the stranger was lounging.

“Hey, whats your name?” He asked and I stopped, realizing I hadn’t even thought to ask him his God damned name.

“Michelle,” I said, holding my hand out to him. He grasped it firmly and shook.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sebastian.”

I fell into a fitful rest quickly after laying down and I didn’t wake up till the sun began to enter the room through the gorgeous doors that let out onto the little balcony. I took a deep breath, finally taking in the fact that I was in Tuscany, for a glamorous wedding, and I didn’t have to pay for any of it. Then I flexed my arms, realizing too late that what I had thought was a pillow last night was actually the hulking form of a man. Shit what did he say his name was? Sebastian. I pulled my arm away from him quickly but the damage was done.

“Morning,” he groaned, sitting up. I replied with a wave of my hand, too embarrassed to speak, hiding my head back in the sheets. I felt the mattress move as he slid off the edge and bustled around the room and then let himself out. Now that the coast was clear I sat up and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to wake up. I pulled my hair up into a quick bun then looked around me for my phone. I had sent Liz a string of panicked texts last night about the room situation that she hadn’t replied to till this morning.

Sorry about the confusion. No, Sebastian isn’t a serial killer. Welcome to Tuscany! Meet us in the lobby at 10.

I glanced at the time. It was barely seven. I cursed jet lag as I marched into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard the door open while I was in the bathroom and stuck my head out.

Sebastian had returned with a porter, who placed a matching pair of brown leather suitcases in the closet (I guess all of Sebastian’s luggage hadn’t made it here last night) and then returned wheeling in a cart full of food. My nose perked at the smell of coffee and I hoped he was planning on sharing.

“So Liz finally confirmed that you aren’t a serial killer,” I said, leaning against a wall.

He smiled at me, “Oh, good. Well I just spoke to Joe, he told me the same about you.” I nodded, smiling now. “I got a little worried last night when you had me in a death grip,” he said, winking at me.

I cleared my throat and looked at the ceiling, “yea I’m a hard sleeper, I cannot account for the actions of my subconscious.” My gaze drifted to the cart with the heavenly smells of coffee wafting from it.

“Compliments of the bride and groom, for the mix up, I think we got in the way of some kind of argument they were having,” Sebastian said, handing me a white mug with cappuccino foam peaking over the brim.

…

It was two days before the wedding and I was beginning to think I should have delayed even longer. Liz had sent me instructions for both Seb and I to “dress casual” for the day which would be mostly wandering town. What I forgot was that casual meant something very different to a common working woman like myself than to the other rich Hollywood people I had to deal with on this trip. After greeting my friend finally and listening to her reassure me that I was not under dressed in my plain dark wash jeans and chunky sweater, I skulked to the back of the group taking in the dozen or so perfectly sculpted bodies adorned with designer heels, leisure jackets and other decidedly not casual ensembles. I had not seen my roommate come down to the lobby but as we headed out I noticed that he was wearing a very modest ensemble of black jeans, polished shoes and a blue denim jacket over a plain green shirt. I tipped my hat to him silently, either he was a normal like me or he was down to earth, either way I was glad to have gotten stuck with him rather than any of the others.

In the town of Sienna I lagged back, finding the group too noisy and attention grabbing. One of the tall skinny women in our party turned and waved at me, beckoning me closer. I took a few long strides to catch up with them.

“Your Liz’s friend that came in last night right?” She asked.

“Yep,” I replied.

“OMG, so your sharing a room with Sebastian then!”

Raising my eyebrows I replied again, “yep.”

“Well, whats he like?”

“Um, I don’t really know, I slept most of the time we were together, I assume he did too,” I offered in a confused tone. Who was this guy?

“But isn’t he so hot?” The woman asked.

“Well I was mostly concerned that he was a murderer when I first met him, I mean, he wasn’t happy and then I wasn’t actually sure he actually was with the wedding party.”

“But you knew who he was, so what did it matter if he was in the wedding party?”

Utterly confused I said, “Wait, who is he? Why should I know him?”

The woman giggled, “Sebastian Stan? He’s an actor in the Avengers franchise? He’s got a huge fan base and is notoriously private.

Okay so I didn’t really know much about those films but I was intrigued now and despite my greatest efforts to pay him no more mind than I had been, I noticed him more the rest of the day. Many of the women in our group would find reasons to stand next to him, they would grab his arm and laugh, or touch his chest. Interestingly, as the afternoon slipped into evening, he seemed to grow visibly agitated with all of the attention. By dinner time he looked like he was barely holding his polite facade together.

We were scheduled to all eat together at a very nice restaurant, however there was some conversation amongst Liz and Joe and our guides and they made a last minute call to eat separately. I was confused by this, the whole trip having felt micro managed up to this point, but I was glad to get away from the group that I felt so apart from and I took off rather than wait around for an explanation. There was a lovely outdoor patio bar down the street from where we were staying, so I leisurely walked that way.

The air was comfortably cool and I tilted my head back to breathe in the smells of the sleepy town as I sipped my wine. This was the kind of night I would have loved to enjoy with Lizzy, but that was before the days when she was famous.

“You must be American,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see two young Italian men standing behind me. As if that was an invitation to join me, they moved to sit in the vacant chairs on either side of me. “So what are you doing in our town?” One of them asked me in a thick accent and placed a hand on my knee, I shivered at how freely he touched me. I crossed my legs, shrugging his hand off of me. They both looked at ease and there were other people around us so it seemed generally safe, but I didn’t feel like doing this tonight. I slid my chair back, stood and walked to the far side of the bar, out of their line of vision. If they followed me I knew I would just have to leave so I steadied myself for that possibility.

It seemed at first like they had lost interest, but about ten minutes later I heard their laughter moving in my direction. But before I decided how to react I felt a warm hand settle on my lower back. “Hey, don’t freak out, It’s just me.” I looked up at the voice speaking into my ear and saw the grey blue eyes of my roommate. “There are two guys that have been staring at you from across the room, I wanted to make sure you knew that.” I nodded at him in thanks. But the men’s voices drew closer still so I turned to face Sebastian.

“Flirt with me,” I said to him.

“What?”

“They have already been bothering me,” I replied trying to keep my eyes on Sebastian and not give the men any reason to come closer. He nodded and moved closer to me so that we were sharing the same space. He kept his hand on my back and the other one combed through my hair. He touched his forehead to mine and laughed. After a second he drew away just enough to look up, scanning the bar for the two men.

I’m gonna kiss you okay?” He said. I gulped and nodded, after I had agreed, he drew my face up to his and very gently touched his lips to mine, leaving them there for a few seconds then breaking away from me. “They’re leaving,” he said and I sighed, though I honestly wasn’t sure if it was in relief or in reaction to the kiss.

…

I sat against the headboard of the bed, my hair drying from the shower and I flipped through the Italian television channels, trying to ignore how strangely domestic it felt to be sharing a hotel room with this person. A man who was apparently a very well known movie star who had recently helped me out of a sticky situation by kissing me. I held a cup of tea in my hands. I was bringing it to my lips when Sebastian emerged from the bathroom a napkin of a towel wrapped around his waist. My hands trembled just enough at the sight of his sculpted torso to spill hot tea all over my lap.

“Fuck,” I said as I stood, pulling the now damp fabric of my leggings away from my skin.

“You okay?” He asked, looking up from rummaging in his bag.

“I’m fine,” I shot back at him, “just put some goddamn pants on,” I muttered. He laughed and I squeezed my eyes shut, “I guess he had heard that,” I thought to myself. He straightened with a wad of clothes triumphantly held aloft then retreated to the bathroom again to change.

“By the way,” I said when he finally came back out, “thanks for the assist there in the bar.”

He winked at me, “Well I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” he said.

“But I haven’t,” I replied, “I have been watching women throw themselves at you all day and I did nothing to save you, “so really, what you did was an unselfish act.”

He walked to his side of the mattress that never felt so small and threw himself down, making the whole frame shake. “Yea, well none of them looked as hostile as those two men.” He shifted so that he was laying on his back distractedly watching the Italian soap opera that I had found. Soon he was breathing steadily with just a very light snore. I smiled and looked down at him. He really was very nice looking. He had well defined features, long eyelashes and full lips. I caught myself biting one of my own lips and rolled my eyes. Deciding that looking at him like this was creepy I switched the tv off and turned the light off, easing down into the sheets.

I was just on the verge of unconsciousness when I felt Sebastian’s arm wrap around my stomach and pull me into him. His body was relaxed but still solid. I hadn’t realized how big he was. I thought for a moment that I should release myself, that it was the right thing to do, but he wouldn’t know I was awake. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him? He shifted again this time nuzzling his scratchy chin into the back of my neck, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his lips were pressed up against the back of my ear. Now throughly enjoying his contact I relaxed into him, laying my arm on top of his.

…

Sebastian’s alarm went off at seven the next morning, the day before the ceremony being filled with activities. I groaned at the shrill sound and was startled to realize my voice was muffled by something I was laying on. I moved my head around, trying to get my bearings without opening my eyes yet. It couldn’t be a pillow, it smelled too good and was too solid.

“Morning,” the thing under me said. I stiffened. Apparently I had managed to fully lay the length of my body on top of Sebastian in the course of the night. He was still on his back and his hands were resting on my bottom, my head was nestled into the crook of his neck and my hands were splayed over his chest. Instead of being embarrassed, I found that I really was just comfortable.

“Do we really have to get up?” I whined into his chest.

I felt his rumbling laugh, “Well I don’t really wanna face the wrath of Lizzy if we don’t show up on time,” he said.

“I thought you were my protector?” I said. He patted my bottom a few times and tried to shift me off of him but I wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll bring you up a cappuccino if you let me get up,” he said. With one more groan fit for the stage I let him roll out from under me. He stood over me for a second and I looked up at him with a mock hurt look on my face. And then before I had time to think, he leaned over me, one hand on either side of me and gently brought his lips to mine.

It was brief but lovely.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered in my ear before turning and leaving the room.

Now fully awake I wandered about the room, unsure of what to do with myself. I pulled out of my suitcase the outfit I was planning on wearing today. The “rehearsal dinner” was more of a rehearsal excursion to the countryside complete with a quartet to play classical Italian music and a wait staff serving Prosecco all day. Lizzy had said to wear “cocktail casual” but I had no idea what the hell that meant. I had settled on a dark burgundy romper. The neckline was a low v and the straps criss-crossed in the back. I laid it out on the bed and was still assessing it when Sebastian returned, a tray of coffee in his hands. Intoxicated by the smell I lifted one of the steaming cups off of the tray and retreated to the small balcony. The morning was cool and the view overlooked the mediterranean rooftops of the little town. I breathed deeply the crisp air and the fragrant coffee.

Sensing his presence behind me I spoke up, “I never would have imagined that visiting a place this beautiful would be such a headache.”

He came to stand next to me. Leaning forward so that his arms rested on the edge of the balcony, the entire side of his body made contact with mine. The heat radiating from him was soothing.

“It is beautiful here,” he said, looking at me, not the view. “Why is this trip so hard for you?”

I sighed, “I guess it’s not. I’m just being dramatic. I knew Liz way before she was famous. She and I had always talked about coming to Italy, about hiking and living close to nature. And this- this trip just shows how we have changed, thats all,” I said giving up. “And I hate all of her new friends.”

Sebastian laughed, “Well I’m gland that I’m Joe’s friend then.” I turned my head to look at him and he winked. Then he straightened up and pulled me into him, “is this okay?” He asked into my ear. I nodded silently, my stomach churning. “Well I think all her friends are jealous of you,” he continued to whisper in my ear, “know why?” I shook my head smiling a little as his words tickled my ear, “because they all want the natural grace and beauty that you have.”

I moved to face him, his large muscled body trapping me against the balcony rail. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. He lowered his mouth to my neck as he pulled me closer to him. “Do you promise to come save me today if all those women don’t leave me alone?” He asked into my neck.

I squirmed at the sensation of his breath on me. “Of course Boo,” I said, patting his bottom in a playfully condescending voice.

He raised an eyebrow, “I think I like being your Boo,” he said moving from my neck to my lips, biting my lower lip playfully.

“Yea?” I replied.

“Mmmh,” was all he said.

“Then as my Boo would you please explain to me what the hell ‘cocktail casual’ means?”

…

After a bit of debate, Sebastian had convinced me that my choice of attire was perfect and he just so happened to have a shirt that matched my outfit, so we arrived in the lobby in plenty of time to meet the rest of the group. Unsurprisingly, I did stand out, most of the women wearing very short dresses and tottering on stilettos, however, when I considered that the alternative was having to wear a short skirt and heels all day, I decided I was happy with my ensemble.

We were ushered into a small bus that would drive us out into the countryside. The inside was nice, but Italians have a very different sense of space than Americans, as demonstrated by the very small seats. Because I had dressed for comfort, I was better able to maneuver my way to the back seat, so I found myself wedged into the very back corner of the van seated next to one of the men in the party who was a talent manager or something and wouldn’t shut up about all the famous people he worked with.

On top of that Sebastian was two rows in front of me, surrounded by needy looking women who were sitting too close to him and thrusting their scantily covered chests towards him.

Finally the bus stopped at a sprawling villa on the side of a mountain. I was antsy to get out both because of the view and because I was quite nauseous after all of the switchbacks we took to get up here.

The day was average, there were some speeches, a few games, lunch, and then drinks. During all of this I had noticed several footpaths that led into the surrounding countryside. As the group broke up into social clusters I slipped away, making a b-line towards a path that I was hoping would take me along the crest of the mountain to reveal more lovely views.

“Wait Michelle!” A voice called from behind me. I turned to see Sebastian scampering behind me, his jacket discarded and a few buttons undone on his shirt. Catching up to me he stopped, “may I join you?”

We followed the overgrown trail for several minutes, finally the brush gave way to a beautiful bald overlooking a valley that reflected gold and red in the low afternoon sun. I turned to Sebastian and found him looking at me. “What?” I asked.

“I want to kiss you,” he said simply. So I closed the gap between us and my lips met his hungrily. We pressed against each other desperately like we couldn’t get close enough to each other. Our breathing grew heavy and I got the sense that we were both wearing too many clothes, so with all my strength I pulled away from him. He let out a little whine and showed me his puppy dog eyes.

“I think we need to cool off a bit,” I said shakily. “If I take this thing off now then it’s not going back on,” I said gesturing to my romper. Sebastian nodded in defeat and took my hand as we walked back to the group.

…

As the afternoon turned to evening other guests of the the bride and groom arrived and the sweetness of the afternoon faded as my world went on repeat. I watched one woman after another try her luck with the dashing Sebastian Stan while I kept to myself, drinking alone. I wasn’t upset at Sebastian, I wasn’t really sure what to do with our short dalliance, was it just born out of convenience? Is it just something to pass the time on this miserable trip? No, what bothered me was watching the entitlement in the way these women acted. They knew they were beautiful or young or well connected and so they approached with confidence, but had very little to contribute to the conversation, literally “what you see is what you get.”

“Ah,” came a voice from over my shoulder, “you are the friend from Louisiana right? The one who Lizzy grew up with?” I turned to see a nice looking young man in a dark suit standing behind me.

“Who’s asking?” I said.

“Hi, I’m Dan, I’m a friend of Lizzy from LA.” He held out his hand, I took it, and in stepping closer I also noticed the alcohol on his breath and the slight waver in his voice. It had been a while since he was sober.

“Nice to meet you, Dan,” I said. He leaned into me slightly, as if he couldn’t keep his feet under him.

“Hey, do you wanna dance? Lizzy said you are a good da-dancer?” He said, hiccuping.

“Maybe in a bit, big guy,” I said, motioning to a waiter for a bottle of water.

“No, you look like you are here for- for a good time. Lets take this back to- back to my place.” He was too drunk to be intimidating but he was quite tall and I found it difficult to shift his weight away from me. Indeed he was very close to toppling over and taking me with him when suddenly his weight was no longer draped over me. Getting my bearings I looked behind me to see Sebastian helping, if a little roughly, to get Dan into a chair.

I didn’t think much of it, but I was surprised Sebastian had gotten to me so quickly. When some other guys came over to take care of the very sloppy and probably soon to be puking Dan, I turned my attention to Seb. He had moved to stand next to me and wound his arm around my waist protectively. “Thanks for the assist,” I said lightly. To my surprise, Sebastian didn’t think it was funny.

“Why don’t those kind of guys ever know when to stop?” He growled, his hand still firmly at my waist.

I turned to face him. “Hey, I appreciate the Feminist outrage, but I was okay, I didn’t feel intimidated by him like the guys in the bar yesterday.” I put a hand on his chest, waiting for him to slow his breathing. Finally he looked down at me.

“I think I was just jealous of your attention,” he said sheepishly.

“Well why the hell didn’t you come over here sooner, I’ve had to watch women fawn over you all evening,” I said with a little pout.

“But I thought you were gonna come save me.”

“I don’t compete with other women!” I said in a whispered yell, turning my back to him. I avoided him, embarrassed and feeling a little too tender after such a long day. Gently he twisted me back to face him. I didn’t resist, I did want to be with him here, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. Carefully, and slowly he tilted my head up till I held his gaze, then he brushed his lips against mine, holding them there just long enough for chills to run down my body and my breathing to quicken before pulling away. I moaned in frustration.

“You aren’t competing with anyone.” With that taste of drama that actors tend to have naturally, he pulled me into the light, closer to the music, and we danced. It was sensuous and romantic. We stayed close together, his nose buried in the side of my neck, my head laying on his chest as we moved in a slow circle. His hands would stray low sometimes, but I would pull them back up so they rested on my hips, and he would chuckle each time.

As the event wrapped up, we walked back to the vehicles together. And as if we had passed some invisible test, everyone left us alone, letting us sit together and talking around us.

Back at the hotel I paused to chat with Liz while Sebastian helped Joe out with something for the ceremony the next day. “OMG, I knew you two would be good together!” Liz gushed.

“Wait, did you do the room thing on purpose?” I asked.

She looked up at the ceiling, “I will not reveal my tricks, but just know that if you two are still together in a year I am so claiming that I set you up.” I rolled my eyes.

I made my way back to our room but was stopped by one of the pretty blonde women in the wedding party. “You are Lizzie’s friend from back home right?” She asked in a valley girl accent I thought had to be a joke. Thinking she had some scheme about the wedding tomorrow, I told her that, yes, I was her childhood friend. “Then what the hell do you think you are doing flirting with someone like Sebastian Stan?” She demanded, serious outrage in her face. I was startled, not expecting this little outburst.

I looked her over again, her makeup was looking a little fuzzy and I could smell vodka on her breath as she teetered on stilettos and pulled her dress down each time it slipped a little too high up her thighs. Before I could respond she continued, “I mean, look at you. You are at least a size ten, no make up, you are wearing flats for Christ sakes.” She gasped like it was the end of the world. “You have no idea the women who are interested in him. Models, actresses, I heard one of the Kardashians even made a pass at him. This is the big leagues little girl. You need to stay in your lane.” In parting she gave me a little push that I thought was more likely to have her on the floor than me.

I laughed uncomfortably as I made it back to the room. Sebastian was there, sprawled on the bed, his torso bare, a pair of navy joggers seated low on his waist. He looked like a snack. And all of a sudden I could only hear the words of that woman. I must have stood there too long cause Seb spoke up. “What did Liz do? Did she change something at the last minute? You look really distracted.”

“Oh,” I said, “Nothing, she didn’t change anything.” I turned away from him and reached behind my back to undo the top of my romper. Sebastian’s hands grasped mine and put them to my sides as he undid the ties, his fingers lingering on my skin. “Sebastian is this just for tonight?” I asked, biting my lip after the words left my mouth.

“Uh, I guess it can be, why?” He replied, his tone measured. I continued to stand with my back to him, needing the space to say this.

“I- I just don’t know how this would work with you being so mobile. I don’t want you to feel like this has to go beyond this trip.” I cut myself off, feeling like I was whining.

“Actually, I am kinda interested in making this work for a longer time. Where are you from? Louisiana? The long distance thing might be a challenge but I’d like to give it a go.” I gulped loudly, my arms and legs felt weak.

“Are- are you sure?” I pressed, feeling like I was in a dream.

“Have I overstepped?” He responded with a concerned look on his face. I shook my head fiercely.

“No, but why me? All those women who are prettier than me, they get the world you come from, you have so many options.”

I had moved away from him now, feeling exposed as I spoke, but he closed the gap between us. Pulling me into him, he gripped me tightly, protectively.

“I don’t want anyone else. You are intelligent, confident, beautiful. No one else has those things.”

I sank into him and felt a sob escape from my lips. A hand grasped the back of my head and pulled me in tight to his chest. I shook a bit with a few more sobs but he was there with me. When I had calmed down I reached up and kissed him on the jaw.

Stepping away from me, he pulled a shirt on and I made a disappointed noise. Laughing he said, “Why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and we can go to the bar and make people jealous.” Rolling my eyes, I smiled.

…

As we approached the bar Sebastian grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers. There was a small group from the wedding party that was gathered at one end of the bar. One of the guys called us over so we joined them, greeting everyone in the group. There was one available seat so I took it, Sebastian stood behind me and his hands lingered on my waist and hips. They were meeting to discuss a few last minute requests of the bride and groom, so I listened as attentively as I could with Sebastian’s warm breath tickling the back of my neck. The skinny woman who had trapped me in the hall earlier was staring daggers into us, but I just looked past her to the conversation happening.

After a few more minutes the conversation broke up. I noticed a few men pat Seb on the back as they left, our friend the skinny woman tottered off in a huff. I felt Sebastian shake a little as he chuckled. “That was more fun than I was expecting,” he said.

“Yea whatever, can we pleas go back to the room? It’s time for you to take your shirt off again.”

…

When we got to the room we both stripped to our underwear. We tumbled into the bed together, the playfulness of moments before leaving us quickly as we both let the exhaustion of the day settle in. Instead, we nestled into each other comfortable just to be with one another. I was laying on my back, Seb��s head resting on my chest. He clung to me, arms and legs wrapped tightly around me and thats when I realized we might actually have as shot.

…

It had been a month since the wedding. I sat nervously in the airport gripping my phone and my eyes glued to the arrivals screen above me. Finally I saw the word “arrived” appear in green next to his flight and soon after my phone pinged and it was a text from him saying he was on his way to baggage claim.

And then there he was.

In a tight t-shirt and joggers, his long legs brought him to me in a few quick strides. I brought him in close to me and squeezed him tight. “It’s been too long,” he said.

#sebastian sebastian stan sebastianstan fanfic imagine bucky

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mmmonie · 4 years ago

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Hi my other post? Got notes? And I already had this basically ready to go so………….? Here it is I guess! Also I’m so sorry for how long this is LOL…..I am incapable of shutting up once I get going so it’s under the read more for you…….(also?? thank you? for the followers uhm cheesed to meet you? 😳 lol)

This is basically what I imagine the manifestation of a demon's powers to be like??? I called it the “juvenile phase” in my other post so thats what im going with lol

Here’s some things I said in my first post that are relevant here, slightly edited. (I elaborate more on the different ways demons are born in that post and I think they’re pretty self explanatory, but u might wanna go read it just in case it’s not clear enough 😔 sorry): (link to first post)

* Demons have multiple forms, not just the two shown in game. All in all the brothers have 5, each becoming less and less humanoid. (Most demons only have 4)

* Half/human born demons are more likely to have both a tail and wings in their first demonic form. Stronger demons like the brothers are merely showing off the strongest of the two, but everyone has both. (Again bc I think they’re sick as fuck lol) This is why the stereotypical devil in our world has both wings and a tail.

*a demon's features can be influenced by what sin they are, but it’s not a hard or fast rule.**

***this does not apply to little Ds whose look is entirely dependent on their sin. They are an entirely separate conversation 😈 (I elaborate on this briefly at the very end LOL)

* half/human born demons can have two sins assigned to them, though this makes them less powerful in both. Usually there is a more prominent sin.

*It should also be noted fallen angels do not have a juvenile phase. While the powers they develop after the Fall are different, they already come prepared, having had intense restraint implemented in their training in the celestial realm. The only things they develop are tails and horns, which happens very quickly during the Fall. They still have the same instincts as demons lol they are just much better at maintaining control.

*another note: I’m gonna use acronyms for our different types of demons after a while to save me some headache. They’re pretty self explanatory (Ex: half demon = HD)

With that let’s begin, shall we?

~~~

*All demons are born with innate magical abilities, the juvenile phase is just the manifestation of their sins and some of their power. Some powers do not come into fruition until much later in a demon's lifespan. (Will elaborate later)

*They won’t have a complete hold on their powers after this either, it’s just like. The bare minimum of getting a grip so they don’t cause immediate damage LOL they have many years to get into the nuances. Magic to demons is about as easy as breathing, but it still comes with its own challenges.

*Many of the powers that manifest are shaped by what kind of sin(s) they display. I’m gonna say the sin(s) developed depend on the individual rather than it being hereditary. Though there are powers that are inherent to all demons. (i.e. hypnotizing humans like in lesson 11-14)

*The beginning of the juvenile phase starts when a demon develops their horns, wings, claws and tails.

*For almost every demon, the juvenile phase lasts about two or three weeks. A human born’s phase will immediately kick in the day after their ceremony. Because of a half demon’s heritage, their transition is delayed and will usually happen around “middle school” age. (However many thousands of years that is lol. Also imagine going through puberty AND growing a bunch of extra shit.........smh.)

*Natural demons have it slightly easier, they go through this phase very early (around toddler age). They develop the nubs of their horns, wings and tail a while after they’re born.

*However this is NOT easier for whoever is taking care of them. Demons that develop later are mostly self-sufficient, meaning you can leave them to rest a bit. Can't leave a baby alone for very long though, can you? Especially not when they’re hurtling objects around with their mind, or causing things to spontaneously combust. (Also imagine a regular baby during their teething phase……….now imagine a baby’s teething phase being ten times more itchy AND manifesting new powers. Congratulations on your very cranky and powerful baby, best of luck to you.)

*Parents take this in stride as it’s just how demon babies are. It is all very Addams family esque…. like awwww, our baby just tried to induce horrific hallucinations of our own deaths!!! 🥺🥰🤧 they grow up so fast!!!!

*HB and HD wings and things grow in very quickly. The nubs will sprout from the skin and then mature into wings and horns in just a few days. ND transitions are much more drawn out, taking about a week to complete. All the growth is very itchy for everyone though.

*You know when you have an itch that just won’t quit or that you can’t reach, so you have to use some outside force to get some relief? Same concept here. Much like deer and their antlers, demons rub their horns and wings up against things to get to those spots they can’t get to themselves. It also has the added effect of encouraging growth and getting excess skin/keratin off them. Family members often help with preening and scratching.

*There are special concoctions/spells to make the process easier and to help ease the itchiness. As well as products made for specific purposes, like to get at that space where your wings meet your shoulders lol

*There are also things to pad horns. Having your baby demon impale your shins is no fun. Neither is having your best friend accidentally get stuck in the cabinet because their horns went through the shelf.

*The first week and a half is usually when a demon is most active. They are encouraged to play fight, stretch their new wings and become familiar with their new instincts.

•Play fighting is a way to help learn to readjust to their new strength. (and thank god demons are near impossible to kill lol they can get VERY rough.) It’s also considered a bonding activity.

*Hunting instincts also come into play so it’s not uncommon to see a demon in their juvenile phase playing a really fucked up game of hide and seek with their loved ones (no one gets hurt. Probably <3)

*These two skills also help with learning how to fly. A game of fucked up hide and seek in the forest is both fun and educational.

*This is very much like when puppies' paws are too big for they got damn them, except y'know. with horns and claws. So expect some accidental scrapes and

*This is also usually the time where their sin(s) will manifest, along with their new powers. At this point this is where family comes in, as a newly developing demon is reliant on everyone around them to help them learn how to control their strength/powers. Taking care of a demon in their juvenile phase is a family bonding activity, and even those who are prone to being cold are a bit softer during this time. (A reminder that family can be anyone, not just blood related.)

*The second half of their transition is more about conserving energy for the introduction of their final form.

*Nesting instincts kick in and are important here, because any nest created will be that demon's home for a period of time. They won’t stray very far from wherever they’ve chosen to stay. Nearly all demons will just choose a comfortable place in their home to nest, however, some demons (i.e. demons like Levi) need a special place because of their final forms. They will be drawn there instinctively.

*A nest is just composed of soft material and sometimes extra objects. For example a greed demon might want shiny or precious objects around their nest.

*This will also be the home of the loved one(s) taking care of their demon. They will go out and find anything the other one might need or want. A demon will only choose one or two others to take care of them at this time. Other family members are allowed to visit, but the chosen demon(s) stay with their struggling one for nearly the entire last half of this period.

*It’s considered an honor to be chosen and it is a bragging point, especially if you have been chosen multiple times.

*Despite what you might think, parental/domestic skills are very important to demons. They live a very long time, and it be a waste to treat their spawn poorly. They’re stuck with them for nearly an eternity, so you might as well try to do your best with them. Being able to showcase being chosen to whomever your courting is, how you say.............a little sexy. So being chosen multiple times? “Wow you’d be a great parent? Tell me more…..😳”

*Demons will slowly spend more and more time in their nest as they approach the end of their phase. Growing extra things takes a lot of energy! Many demons end up mostly sleeping for the last couple days in preparation for the end.

*Since they are so sleepy, this is the most outwardly cuddly most demons will be. Close family members are encouraged to come stay in the same space for a while. The demon will often be asleep, but waking up and playing games with them is a great way to bond. If you’re REALLY special you might end up being allowed to sleep in their nest for a bit.

*The juvenile phase culminates when the demon reaches their final form (usually the fourth one.) Over this last half, they slowly grow more monstrous features. Scales, fur, claws, eyes, teeth, spines.........the whole lot! Anything and everything you can imagine. Each demon's final form is unique, though they do not get a decision as to what features they have. Final forms tend to be very large.

*This is where they are taught how to use their glamor and how to piece themselves back into a form that’s easier to maneuver. Think of it like starting from the top and working your way down.

*There are demons whose job it is to go mark down the details of every single final form. Things like what powers manifested, to how tall they are, their overall physical strength and what sin(s) they portray, etc. They are all recorded in the royal archives. It’s a bit like a right of passage, especially for younger demons and their parents.

*Going back to the very top, some powers won’t manifest until after the juvenile phase. Some won’t even manifest until the demon has hit sexual maturity (which takes a MUCH longer time for demons.) This is true of almost every power that Lust develops except for perhaps an increase in their charisma/ability to charm. Demons who are assigned Lust are considered the late bloomers of the demonic world, as almost all other sins manifest more power right away.

*Also relating to the top of this post: the reason Little Ds looks are biased on what sin they are is because they are pure concentrated forms of sin given life. They’re extracted from the souls of humans who committed sin, and used for grunt work/errand running. They develop their own personalities as they go, but it takes a bit so they’re kind of a blank slate until then.

~~~

I was gonna be like oh treat for you here’s how the brothers dealt with Satan and his juvenile phase but this is long as FUCK already so I will make…...a separate post. Edit: SURPRISE! treat for u! heres the link if u want

Thanks for reading! Until next time ig?

#The way I right is so unrefined I’m SORRY I suppose I’ll get better with practice so pls bear with me.......#*WRITE dear god #Are these posts too long? Dtygygyvbyctc I just get talking and I can’t stop hvyvyvyvyvyvtc #Literally the reason this exists is bc I was like what if #mc got turned into a demon and everyone had to c*are fr them and then i was like #oooooo how would that work actually lol #Me: aha this is a nice day dream abt fluff........what would the fucking logistics be though dfjnejlfkjefkjhekf'#i should say this AND my first post r bc of JUST THAT bc I cant leave well enough alone if my day dreams aren #ARENT fleshed out what am i doingggg #THIS IS ABT THE FAMILY DYNAMICS!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ITS ABT GOING THRU SM DIFFICULT AND HAVING OTHERS SAY THRU ACTION THT THEY WILL ALWAYS BE THERE TO SUPPORT U!!!!!#ITS ABT GETTING A SICK ASS SET OF HORNS & SHIT!!!!!!! Would you not ALSO want to look cool as fuck????#Im sorry for saying cheesed to meet u sdfkjnekjfhk i sadly think im funny #obey me!#obey me headcanons #mental eelness...........#ummm I GUESS THIS IS #world building #????

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greasygyeom · 5 years ago

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Title: Blame it on Me [Part I: Congratulations you got promoted!]

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: what is someone supposed to do when they have to choose between the love of their life and the career of their dreams.

Word Count: 8.2k

Yugyeom x Reader / Angst, smut..more angst. (i use noona but just pretend it’s y/n)

Warnings: Mature content please read only if 18+

Author’s Note: i am back after another year yay! hope you like it!! if you do leave an ask or write in your tags. i love hearing from you guys! tell me if it made you feel something. if there’s spelling errors, let me know hahaha. love you guys and thank you for reading.

Read Part II here

[I]

Your heart felt heavy. It shouldn’t have. You should have wanted to celebrate. You’d just been offered a promotion. After giving your 200 percent for the past four years, you deserve the recognition, you deserve the pay-scale, you deserve everything your new title has to offer you, but instead it left you with tears of melancholy. It had left you at a fork in the road you didn't ask for. A choice you didn’t want to make.

The breeze you felt on your face, standing on the roof of your office building was cold, but you could hardly process it.

You made your first phone call, after the meeting, to your best friend; to give her the ‘good news’.

It was an unscheduled call, and those were for emergencies only, so instead of beating around the bush you chose to open with it.

“I have….. good news, I guess. I got promoted” you said, feeling the weight of those words like falling bricks shattering a windshield.

There was no lustre to the statement and she knew something was not right. “This is not how you tell people you got promoted bro. Something’s up. Tell me?”

“I get promoted only if I transfer to the London office.”

The news would have affected your friend only positively, because she already was miles away from you. It wouldn’t have theoretically mattered to her what part of the world you FaceTimed her from. But, she also immediately understood your unpleasant mood.

“Oh. That’s a tough spot,” she replied, “have you told Yugyeom yet?”

“No. I’ve just told you, right now. I don’t want to tell him without making a decision. This is fucking awful.”

You were on the verge of crying, so you pulled out your pack of smokes and lit one.

“Okay, that’s one way to look at it, but from another perspective, if you go with the decision and it’s a decision he doesn’t like, it might not end well. He might feel left out?”

“Neither of the two options here have a good ending man.”

“How long do you have till you decide?”

“They gave me two weeks.”

“Look, I know congratulations is probably not what you want to hear right now, but you fucking got promoted, okay? That’s a big deal. They want you to head an entire division in one of their best offices. That’s massive. And I know you love Yugyeom, but I also know how long you’ve busted your ass for this; so I’m going to support whatever decision you make. But don’t keep this from him. Delaying this will not solve anything at all.”

“I fucking hate this universe. Can I not once have everything I want without having to make these awful decisions.”

You knew you were at a risk of being called ungrateful and by everyone who didn't have the same opportunity. There were colleagues of yours who would throw themselves at a chance like this. But it was a little more complicated on the other side of the fence for you.

You wanted the job, you so badly wanted it. For every second of every day since graduating with a degree in visual design, all you wanted was to become an Art Director. But, you were also in a loving relationship with a boy who held your entire heart in the palm of his hand. He was considerate and caring and kind and he gave you everything you had deemed yourself unworthy of. He changed the way you saw yourself and filled your life with laughter. That was the choice you had to make —between what you always wanted that you now had a door to walk through and claim and what you thought you’d never have, which you might have to give up. And the way you saw it, it would have been easier to decide between life and death.

Death, you would choose death.

Just having to go back inside and accept everyone’s well wishes and scoffs alike, was making you sick to your stomach, but you somehow managed to power through it. What you truly dreaded, was facing the love of your life. Because there was going to be no easy way to do this.

That night when you went home, tired and distraught, your boyfriend was there to hold you in his arms. You had kind of hoped that you wouldn’t have to face him, at least today, so there was an overwhelming amount of remorse when you flopped into his arms, on the couch.

“Aww...my baby is tired?”

You’d tried your very best to remove all evidence of having mourned silently on the metro ride while coming back.

“Very very tired.” you sighed.

He pulled you closer, getting you more comfortable in his embrace.

“How come you’re home? It’s just 8pm?” you inquired.

He was the principal choreographer at one of the most prestigious dance academies in the city and usually his days ran late creating new routines for Broadway shows and idols. You were so incredibly proud of him and everything he had done for his career; especially having seen him grow as a person and as an artist for the past three years. But his long hours had led to some harsh conversations and you just found it hilarious that the one time you wished his work would run later than usual, so you wouldn’t have to face him, is the one time he was home early.

“Heyyy... you’re making me sound bad.”

“Noooo I don’t mean it like that! I just mean, it’s not often you’re home at this time. You’re usually locking up the studio.”

“Yeah rehearsal got called off today. I thought you’d be happier than this to see me home.”

“Baby, I am!”

Even though you had hoped for some time alone to collect yourself, finding him sitting, waiting for you on the couch, felt warm and welcoming - like the second home you were trying to escape to, because your original terrain was turning hostile.

“I'm really happy to see you.” You nuzzled his nose, “I promise.”

“Okay I'll believe you this time. What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t think I’m hungry, baby.”

“Nonsense.”

“Really, Yugyeom, I don’t think I can eat.”

“But I’m so hungry. I was waiting for you” he pouted. You stroked his cheek, while he spoke, taking in every little detail of his face and leaned in to kiss him.

When his soft lips touched yours, you felt your shoulders give up all the worries they had carried around the whole day, but your mind almost immediately started accumulating the guilt of deciding to not tell him anything for now.

You wanted to ignore it, but the more he grabbed onto your body, the louder the voice in your head became, until you forced yourself apart.

“You need to eat first. I thought you were hungry?” You poked your tongue out, playfully, faking a giggle.

“Yeah, I can eat your pussy” he replied seductively

“Yugyeom!”

He did that often — making you flush with embarrassment, while talking dirty to you. It was his favourite hobby. The more inappropriate the setting, the better.

He knew just how shy you were about dirty talk and how your sexting game was not something you could brag about. But, while with ex-boyfriends you would immediately get put-off and awkward, he had the exact opposite effect on you.

Just the way he’d say some things – always with a teasing half-smirk on his face, and that strawberry voice fluctuating between sour and sweet, sending shivers down your body – would make you go red in the face. Instead of wanting to conclude the dinner at appetisers you ended up wanting to take him home for an ‘innocent’ cup of coffee.

He used and abused this information, to his advantage, every chance he got.

The same couldn’t be said once you were engaged in the act though, because he’d heard you say some sentences that would give a sweet, old pensioner a heart attack.

Letting out a loud laugh, he put his entire weight on you, leaving you no room to escape and truth be told, you didn’t want to escape either.

“You look distracted noona, is everything okay?”

“Uhh...yeah…”

“That would have been believable, but you’ve been frowning for the past ten minutes” he responded, touching the crease lines on your forehead.

“Kiss me, please.” you whispered, coiling your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He caught your lips between his and stroked your cheeks.

When he pulled away, lips red and swollen, he smiled, “I love you”.

“I love you too, so so much.”

He sat back and pulled you up with him. “I’m going to order some food. How about you take a nice warm shower till then? I might even hop in, you know, save some water.”

“Where is this ‘save water’ philosophy when I’m running late in the morning and you’re hogging up the bathroom?”

“I never said you can’t join me. It wouldn’t be the first time anyway.”

“At 8 am? Can’t risk it.”

“Why? I can be quick.”

He’d successfully got you all flustered again.

“Oh my god, just order the chicken.” You rolled your eyes, “And I’m going to lock the door so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Aah so cruel.” He replied, dramatically holding his chest like you’d stabbed him.

All this happiness and normalcy that you were faking was emotionally draining; you needed twenty minutes of solace to silently cry it out while the hot water rained on you.

Debating on whether or not to just rip the bandaid and get it over with, you came to the futile conclusion that right now, you just couldn’t. You needed to be prepared, to weigh all the options; to play out all possible outcomes of your potential decision and find all the answers to the difficult questions that you would have to face later. All this overthinking required some time, so you had to keep the secret a little longer.

You went into the kitchen, after slipping into your pajamas, to help Yugyeom.

“Is the food here?”

“No, I’m just setting everything up.”

You grabbed the two plates he’d kept out, only to be scolded by him.

“Noona, I’ll get everything, just pick something to watch.”

“It’s okay, I can carry two plates.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’d like it if you didn’t?”

You chuckled and headed back into the living room.

The food delivery reached you halfway through an episode of Good Girls. So you ate your super spicy wings, while he ate the rice bowl he’d been craving, completely engrossed in the show. By the time you reached the third episode you were so full, you rested your head in his lap, sleepy beyond your control.

“I should never believe you when you say you don’t want to eat” he suddenly said, running his fingers through your hair.

“I stress ate, I think, that’s worse”.

“What’s stressing you out, baby?”

“Rio” You pouted.

“Really. You’re telling me you stress ate because of a fictional gang banger? Actually, no, I take it back. That’s totally believable.”

“Yes, exactly, that fictional gang banger has a neck tattoo.”

“He has a fake neck tattoo. I have a real one on my back.” He sassed.

“Oh whatever, you’re just jealous.”

“Nah… I mean… He could try but I can actually kiss you.”

You laughed squeamishly when he started planting kisses all over your face, then asked you in a more serious tone. “Seriously noona, you look very down today.”

“It’s nothing just…. work.”

“You work too hard, I think you need a vacation. You wanna take friday off and go to the beach over the weekend?”

Unbeknownst to himself, his innocent remarks immediately unraveled the little cocoon you’d stitched around yourself. You wanted to trick your brain into believing, even if for a little while, that everything around you at that moment was not gloomy and dark. But as soon as his words registered, an alarm rang through your body; escalating your heartbeat and breaking you out in sweat.

The sudden change in your physical appearance derailed his chain of thought.

“You’re suddenly sweating so much? Are you getting a panic attack?” he asked, aware of your history with anxiety disorders.

“No, I’m fine,” you lied.

“Then is it a fever?” He placed his hand on your forehead and then on his, to tentatively compare his body temperature to yours.

“It seems okay” he mumbled then spoke to you. “Get up, I’m going to get the thermometer.”

“I’m okay, Yugyeom. I’m sure I’m not sick.”

“I’m getting the thermometer.”

Begrudgingly, you moved out of his way, sitting upright, your heart slowly returning to normal speed.

He came back five minutes later, and after thorough inspection, came upon the conclusion that your body temperature was no higher than normal.

“Happy now? I told you I’m okay.”

“I just wanted to be sure.”

“Or you could have just believed me.”

“Noona?”

“I’m… gonna go to bed” you replied, catching up with and simultaneously getting horrified by the unnecessary aggression in your tone.

“Okay.” he complied, “I’ll clear everything up here and see you in ten minutes.

The way you suddenly snapped at him, was unexpected, but only because you hadn’t behaved this irrationally in a long time.

The last time it happened was when he’d been dating you for a little while and you were terrified of accepting your feelings for him.

In most cases, you were a rather level-headed, logical person. While you couldn’t do anything about being an emotional being, you still regulated the role it played in decision making.

However, the fear of committing to being so effortlessly in love with someone had paralysed you so intensely, it had caused your mind to lash out.

He knew about all this because much, much later you had apologised for hurting him in that battle with yourself. He’d stuck by you when you had tried your hardest to push him away. And you had felt compelled to right that wrong, even though you both had moved past it. His decision to not walk away had been instrumental in helping your relationship grow into the most magnificent forest of love.

He hadn’t experienced this unexplained, irrational irritability since that time, but he chose not to bring it up when he slipped under the sheets.

“Will you be my tiny spoon?” he asked, even though you were facing the wall already.

Without a word you turned around and scooted close enough that you could bury your face in his bare chest. He liked sleeping in his boxers.

A small smile settled on his face. “Goodnight, noona.”

“Goodnight baby. I’m...sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you’ll figure it out ... whatever it is.”

“I hope so.” you replied, defeatedly, knowing full well that one way or another ‘figuring it out’ was going to break something for you.

The next two days were dull and dark. You smoked a lot, cried a lot, avoided Yugyeom a lot, amongst other mundane routines.

You were on the precipice of adding a third day to the list, but around noon you received a call from Jinyoung – Yugyeom’s senior/ colleague/ childhood friend and by extension now your friend; and he unwantedly altered your ‘gloomy clouds and violent seas’ moodboard to ‘a chill night out in town’.

Since no was never an option with Jinyoung, you ended up going for dinner and a movie with some of Yugyeom’s friends and, to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as you had expected it to be. There were so many people you hadn’t seen in such a long time, it did take your mind off of all the overthinking it had been doing for some hours and as a surprise cherry on top, kept you away from your boyfriend.

By the end of the night you were so tired and tipsy, the only memory that remained of being back home was falling onto the bed and then being tucked in.

The hangover, experienced by you, the following morning was not something you wanted to add to your already substantial list of inconveniences for the day, but it seemed almost inevitable at that point. When you rolled out of bed, he’d left for work and kept out a hangover shake in the kitchen, for you.

“Oh goddammit why could you have not been a douchebag.” You muttered in frustration.

You were angry at your boyfriend for being caring. That’s where you were at in your life. You were so cowardly that you were wishing he’d become an asshole so you could hate him and make it easier on yourself.

It wasn’t a pleasant place to be in.

Fast forward to the weekend, you were painstakingly aware of how little time you had with your wishy-washy-bullshit procrastination. Subconsciously you were aware of the choice you were going to have to make, whether you liked it or not, you just didn’t want to make it.

In the past week, every time your boss called you into the office or crossed you in the corridor you felt this overwhelming pressure, like you were being an ungrateful employee for taking so long to give an answer. And since you hadn’t yet told Yugyeom, who probably was the only person who should have been made aware of the situation the day it had transpired, it made everything even shittier.

You felt like asphalt laid out on the ground ready to get bulldozed.

“Are you sure you’re okay noona?” He asked, worry lines strewn all across his face as he once again caught you floating in your own world, on a very sunny Saturday morning, frowning at nothing in particular.

“I’m okay. I think. Maybe anxiety is catching up with me.”

“Do you want to visit your therapist?”

“Not right now… but, if it continues for longer than a month, I will. I can handle it”, you lied.

He gave you a small peck on the forehead, his way of offering comfort before asking if you needed anything from the convenience store.

You thought about it for 30 seconds before sighing “No, I’m good.”

He felt helpless when you got into this state of mind. But he also knew the best thing he could possibly do was give you your space and silence. You’d been together for three years and he didn’t know he could love someone so much. Even though, sometimes, it came with it’s own curve balls, he was willing to deal with them; because being with you was better than being without.

He knew in his heart that something was wrong. But forcing it out of you was not what he wanted to do, no matter how much he wanted to know or help. Throughout your relationship, you had prided yourself in the fact that you both were always transparent with each other. Sure, it had led to minor disagreements, but choosing to never hide information, out of respect for the other person, was something you both mutually believed in.

So it came as a bit of a shock to him when he ran into your work friend, while buying kitchen supplies and they divulged some information he had not been made privy to.

Needless to say, it didn’t sit well with him, but everything he’d observed about you in the past week suddenly made sense. He didn’t know how to process the information, so he bought the groceries and went back home to find you frowning, just as he’d left you.

“Oh, you’re back already?” You faked a smile, looking at your faint reflection in the window, to make sure you didn’t look like a mess after having cried in his absence.

“Yeah, I just went to buy some ramen and eggs.” He replied. “And I ran into Ahn, from your work.”

“Nice.” The repercussions of that happen stance didn't cross your mind.

“Yeah… yeah. He told me some interesting stuff.”

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He told me that my girlfriend was moving to London?”

You physically felt your heart fall to the base of your gut as your chest cavity tightened and it became difficult to breathe, all in less than a span of sixty seconds.

“Funny right. And he told me to congratulate you on your promotion since he has been out of town and hasn’t been able to do it himself yet. Apparently it’s been the biggest source of gossip this week because everyone knows about it.”

You sensed the iciness in his voice and were ready to launch yourself out of the window you were crying by earlier.

“Yugyeom....”

“What I don’t understand is why I heard about it for the first time from some random dude I’ve met once in my life for 2 seconds, instead of you.”

“Because, I – it’s not that simple.”

Your statement was met with silence. He didn’t look angry, he looked hurt and betrayed. He had the same face when he found out Belgian chocolate shakes weren’t necessarily always made with chocolates made in Belgium.

You wanted to just casually dissipate into golden dust.

“I might not have all day for this,'' he said, standing on the other side of the countertop.

When you still didn’t talk, because you were trying to squash your tears to avoid a pour out, he moved to leave the kitchen-dining area.

“No, Yugyeom! Please don’t leave ”, you begged.

“Then talk to me.”

“I don’t know how to talk about it. I’ve been trying every day.”

“It’s been a whole week. Seven days. You’ve known this for seven days.”

“It’s been five,” you sobbed, mutedly. “Okay… okay okay….” If you didnt let it out now, your chances of undoing the wedge that was now lodged between you two, were very low. So you began,

“I was offered the position of Art Director at the London office. I have one more week to give them a reply. And I don’t know what to do. There that’s all of it.”

“That took about three sentences and two minutes. Congratulations, noona,” he replied but his tone sounded the opposite of what encouragement would feel like.

He could feel his ears turn red and a sudden lack of oxygen in his lungs.

Without another word, he picked up his jacket and walked out, before the claustrophobia he felt in his own house worsened.

You saw his tall, lean frame close the door and your dam of emotions burst, like it was made out of twigs. There was no reason to pretend anymore — what you knew would happen, did happen. Could it have been avoided, yes, definitely; but at least, the cat was out of the bag.

You waited for him to come back, in spite of knowing how foolish and naive it was to think he’d come back any time soon. You had sent him a dozen messages and calls, all of which he’d chosen to ignore.

So you had to resort to contacting his friends, just to know if he was safe. Mark, Youngjae and Jinyoung were out of town on a business trip, Jackson hadn’t seen him since the movie night, Jaebeom was at the studio and hadn’t heard from him, which left BamBam. You prayed as you called him, for him to have answers regarding Yugyeom’s whereabouts

“Yeah he’s with me, don’t worry. He’s trying to get drunk, but I’m diluting all of his drinks.”

“What? It’s two in the afternoon!”

“What else did you expect? I’ll send him home in one piece.”

“Bam, I really need to talk to him.”

“I know, I know. He told me what happened. He’s… you know.”

“Yeah… I know. Thanks for keeping him safe.”

“Of course I’ll keep him safe, he’s my best friend. I’m also a bit mad at you, just by the way, but we’ll hash it out later- depending on how things go between you two.”

“I understand.”

“I’m gonna go back inside now before he hulks out and breaks some shit. Try to get some rest, okay? Don’t worry about him.”

“Thanks, I’ll try.”

You then heard a soft click and the line went silent.

At around five and much to your surprise, Jaebeom landed up at your doorstep.

Something didn’t seem right; because yes, you got along with him extremely well and had become good friends over the years, but he would never leave the studio in the middle of the day, especially when Yugyeom hadn’t come in. This was absolutely out of character for him.

“I got you some dumplings and kimbap.” He announced after you buzzed him in.

“I’m not really hungry.” You moaned, slouching back into the same position you had been in for the last several hours.

“You’ve been on that couch since morning, haven't you?”

His question was met with cricket noises.

“Yo, listen. I’m not leaving until you have two pieces of each, at least. I will chew your ear out until you do. I know you haven’t eaten anything.”

That's when it hit you, that wasn’t him talking that was Yugyeom talking through him.

“Jae... did Yugyeom ask you to bring this stuff?”

“Would anything change if he did?”

“For fucks sake… seriously?” You were definitely angry, but not sure at what anymore.

“He was worried you wouldn’t eat, so he told me to get you some food.”

“Even when he’s mad at me he has to be a fucking saint.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No, I’m fucking pissed. I know I was wrong but I’d much rather he fight with me than this passive aggressive shit.”

“I know.” He replied, “But…. I also know you know he’s not here because he doesn’t want to talk about it, just as much as you didn’t. Talking about it means he has to be there when you choose between him and your job. I don’t think he wants to hear it.”

“He’s just assuming I’m going?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well fuck if I knew then I wouldn’t be crying about it would I?”

“Dude I know this is hard for you, but don’t lie to yourself about it. I know you want to go to London, that’s why this is so difficult.”

“But I don’t wanna go without Yugyeom.”

He went back into the kitchen where he had placed all the food and brought it over to the coffee table.

“Yes, but what if you have to?” he then asked.

Holding a conversation with Jaebeom was like staring at the blunt edge of a knife and hoping you wouldn’t get cut just by looking at it for too long. He was this pool of wisdom you could turn to, to reflect, but since he never learned how to sugar coat things, sometimes his words could get difficult to swallow; just like right now.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes, but what if you have to.”

You turned to look away from him, because you knew too well what the answer to that was, you just didn’t want to say it out loud.

He read your silence and thought it best to give you your space.

“I’m going to keep everything here. Please eat and drink some water too. You’re going to get dehydrated otherwise. I’ll check up on you when I’m back at the academy. And I’ll be damn pissed if you waste any of those dumplings.”

“Fine.” You absent-mindedly replied having no intention of actually going through with it.

“It’s not for Yugyeom, it’s for me.”

You watched him leave and buried yourself under the blanket again. It wasn’t out of ego that you didn’t eat, it was more so the nausea and headache that had completely drained you and caused your body to shut down. You were asleep within minutes.

And it wasn’t until the main door opened, at an ungodly hour, that you woke up and sat on the couch, alarmed.

“You’re still awake?” he asked, feeling just the tiniest bit of buzz from a mixture of drinks in his system.

“I wasn’t awake, I fell asleep after Jae left.”

“Oh” his eyes darted to the untouched packet of food, painting a vivid picture of dissatisfaction all over his face. He wanted to ask you to eat, but he was still incredibly hurt over the secret keeping to want to talk to you kindly.

“You can sleep inside,” he stated in a monotone, “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. I’ll stay at Bammie’s, starting tomorrow.”

“Yugyeom please don’t do this, this is your house. Please talk to me?”

“You want to talk now, noona? Really?”

“I know I messed up. I know, okay, I know I should have told you earlier. But, every time I tried, I couldn’t. You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think this is what I want? Do you think any of this is what I want? I don’t want to make this choice, Yugyeom.”

“Do you have to make a choice?”

“Are you willing to uproot your life here and move to London with me, because if not then yes, I do. I have to choose between the only two things I love most and forgive me for not knowing how to do that. I don’t want to fight, baby. I love you and I love my job. You know how much and for how long I have wanted this. And you know I fucking love you.”

You’d fought the tears so hard through this monologue, you could feel the strain on your throat. But it was all in vain, because you did breakdown. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, so you covered your face with your palms, as best you could.

You wanted to scream and shout at the stars; to direct your anger somewhere, anywhere.

The entrapment that you experienced while blurting out all your emotions was a roller coaster ride you never consented to take.

His footsteps echoed in the pin drop silence and you assumed he was moving towards the door, to leave.

Of course, it would make sense for him to want to leave. All you’d just said right now was that you loved him but not enough to make him the obvious first choice.

So it came as a surprise when instead you felt his warm fingers run through your hair as he sat down next to you.

He didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his chest, as you cried profusely. Fighting back his own emotions, he rocked back and forth, gently, in an effort to calm you down. You smelled of smoke. It was alarming because it meant you’d smoked enough for the smell to linger in your hair and on your clothes but it wasn’t the right time to bring that up.

“Noona, I love you too.”

Your grip around him tightened when he said that, unleashing a new wave of tears that you were too exhausted to undergo.

“Come on, I know you haven’t eaten all day. Let’s eat something and then go to sleep.” He added, speaking softly, like he was talking to an injured puppy and was afraid to hurt it with his voice.

“Can we stay like this for two more minutes?” you managed to mutter, in between sobs.

“Okay baby, we can stay here as long as you want.”

You didn’t wake up until late in the afternoon the next day, still encased in Yugyeom’s arms. It was unusual for you to sleep in until 3PM, but your mind and soul were so spent from the past couple of days, it made sense to rest.

Being in his embrace comforted you beyond what words could convey. You pushed your back into his torso, desperately trying to reduce any crevices between your bodies.

In his sleep induced state he kissed your neck and tightened his hold around your waist.

You could feel that he was just a bit turned on, with your ass pressed up against his boxers and you should have resisted the urge to move your hips against his pelvis.

The unspoken tension between the two of you hung heavy in the air but you’d been on a streak of making bad decisions this past week, so what was one more.

His heartbeat quickened as your movements became more purposeful.

It was a confusing place to be in. You didn’t know if you were still fighting, if he wanted space, if you wanted more time. The only thing you knew with certainty was at that moment you wanted him.

By now he was fully awake and aware of your motives; and didn’t waste any time in reciprocating your pursuit either— his hands feeling up your body with an unmatched aggression.

Usually, he always made the first move, because you would get shy. So it took him by surprise when you pressed yourself up against him like that, but It didn’t take him long to get in the position of control. In a matter of seconds he had you pinned face down against the sheets with your ass protruding outwards, your clothes on the floor and his fingers slithering smoothly on your clit.

You heaved in response when he smacked and grabbed onto your buttcheeks, with force.

“You like that baby?” he asked, roughhousing you to lay flat on your back, so he could kiss you and bruise you and most importantly, watch you gasp and pant as he manhandled your body pleasurably.

You loved it when Yugyeom played aggressive; and nodded in response.

A cocky smirk formed on his face.

For the next several minutes he pleased you in every way he knew how to– kissing your body, sucking your nips, eating you out, pounding his fingers into you until you were begging to come. Just to tease you more he’d edge you then wait and start all over again.

It was always hell for you when he made you beg for it.

“Baby, please fuck me.” you moaned in anguish, as he parted your legs and licked your folds again, needily.

“Say that again, noona.” He demanded.

“Please, please fuck me. I can’t take it anymore” You dangerously tugged at his hair as he gently teased your lower body.

“Again.”

Your distress was giving him immense pleasure, tempting him to take his sweet time and get you even more desperate for his dick.

“Yugyeom...... please.”

The impatience in your voice was unmissable. You arched your back when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, losing all of the air inside your lungs.

He pressed his lips against your labia even harder and licked you surreptitiously.

“Oh fuck…. baby…. oh keep doing that” you whined, but he stopped abruptly and looked up, to study your face.

“What? Why did you stop?”

“You were having too much fun.”

“It’s not my fault, you’re too good at it.” Maybe caressing his ego would get you somewhere.

He laughed at your response and nibbled around your waist lovingly.

You sat up, messing with his hair and asked him to take his boxers off.

He nodded and got rid of the only piece of clothing he was wearing, at lightning speed, while you got on your knees.

A small groan escaped his lips, as you grasped the base of his length and moved your fingers rhythmically, pumping him. You licked your lips thirstily and took in his tip, swirling your tongue around his skin, like tasting a new flavour of lollipop.

It was no secret that he was turned on, but you miscalculated just how fast your manoeuvres would rile him up.

As you sucked his cock fully into your mouth, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged at it, barely able to keep his composure.

You could hear him mumbling profanities when you deliberately took a long time to feel his ridges and bulging veins with your mouth.

“Noona… fuck…..” he panted deliriously, his mouth watering at the sight of you. He wanted to buck his hips and fuck your mouth harder, hit the back of your throat, make you choke, but he wanted you to initiate it so he’d know that you were okay with it.

You looked up at him lustfully, his cock still suctioned between your lips. The way he eye-fucked you spread electricity through your body; making you want even more of him. When you removed your hand from the base and squeezed his balls, he knew your intentions. It was your tell-tale sign; the consent he needed to go harder.

He grabbed the back of your head and gained control of the way your neck moved on him. Your heart raced when he started hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, blocking your air supply every time he did so.

Tears collected in the far corners of your eyes, and you let out multiple muffled moans. You loved this feeling of asphyxiation, but your body’s reflex was to react against it.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him when a thin trail of collected water trickled down the side of your face.

He let go of your hair and asked “You good?”

That’s the kind of man Kim Yugyeom was, who’d stop in the middle of rough sex to make sure his partner wasn’t getting hurt.

That’s the man you were going to lose if you chose your job.

Did that possibility make right now the last time you could feel him like this?

You chuckled, licking your lips for residue, “I’ll be better when you cum in my mouth”.

“Fuck... you drive me crazy.” He exhaled sharply, finding your arms and pulling you up.

The kiss you shared after that was sloppy and greedy, laced with a desperation you’d experience if you were running out of time.

You moved backwards towards the bed, his lips wandering on your neck voraciously.

“Baby….baby please fuck me” you cooed, digging your nails into his flesh.

This time, you didn’t have to ask him twice.

Before you could wrap your head around it, he’d worn protection and was pounding into you greedily, ecstasy flowing through his veins.

The loud, wet sounds of his thrusts, as you writhed pleasurably under his lean form, were catalytic. Your walls clenched around his cock as he fucked you until he hit your spot.

Mesmerised by his lustful yet soft brown eyes, you let the wildfire, burning at the pit of your stomach, dictate your thoughts and move your body in-sync with his rapidly escalating fervour; making you huff and hum in relief.

With your eyes closed, you experienced the seventh heaven. He literally made you see stars. The tension in your pelvis dissipated and you came undone, panting and sweating heavily.

You wanted to at least make him feel an equivalent amount of gratification.

“I want you to cum in my mouth, baby. Will you cum in my mouth for me?” you asked, salaciously.

“Oh god noona you’re so fucking hot” he whined, fastening his momentum. Even though he’d made you orgasm, his thrusts were getting you all riled up again.

When he was dangerously close to erupting inside of you, he pulled out; and you greedily crawled towards him, to help him finish. As Yugyeom released in your mouth and you swallowed, not breaking the heated eye contact you had going on, he sighed delightfully.

He watched you lick the last traces off of his dick and your mouth, and he couldn’t get enough of the sight in front of him.

Catching you in his embrace, he kissed your forehead and tackled you back into bed.

Your heart felt full and empty at the same time.

“You got me all tired now.” he hummed, pulling you into his chest.

You checked the clock on your bedside table;16:30 it read. Never in your life span had you wanted to freeze time as much as you did that very second.

Yugyeom continued to shower you with more kisses and somewhere between his touch and the faint sound of the piano being played somewhere, you fell asleep again.

Filled with anxiety and your heart beating out of your chest, you sat up in a jerk movement. You didn’t know if it was day or night, if you were late for work or if you’d just woken up from a nightmare.

Nothing seemed to make sense to you. Yugyeom wasn't occupying his side of the bed either.

You took a few deep breaths and checked the time again. It was 8PM and you were still on Sunday.

You let out a sigh of relief and fell back on your pillow, your heart still beating like crazy.

“What an awful way to wake up” you thought to yourself, turning towards his empty pillow. It was then that you noticed the vase placed by Yugyeom’s bedside.

Flowers weren’t your thing, but they were his. He would get cheered up so easily if anyone got him a bouquet. He’d just shove his whole face in the petals and smell them and smile like a fool. There was a piece of paper still attached to the bunch, with ‘noona’ written on it.

Wait… did he actually get those for you? You rolled over to his side and started reading the contents, entering a panic induced state of mind immediately. It was barely five lines but it felt like an eternity to get through.

“Noona, I’m breaking up with you. You should accept the promotion and go to London, without me making you feel guilty about it. I couldn’t say this in front of you because you know I suck at this stuff. But I was more afraid that I’d ask you to stay. I love you. I want to make this easy for you. Please don’t call me…. I’m sorry.”

After the tenth read his words registered in your brain, like a ten year old typewriter running low on ink – the words were all there, just impossible to interpret.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Immediately you sprang out of bed, took a bath and got dressed, unwilling to accept this predicament on face value. Even if it was the only foreseeable decision, you couldn’t let him take the fall for it. You were the bad guy in this situation and you had to face it.

You first went to the academy, just in case he’d gone there to bury his emotions under a thick layer of hardcore choreography. To your dismay Jaebeom was the only one burying his feelings in the building.

“He wrote a note? Really?”

“Yeah he said he’s breaking up with me and left.”

“But… wasn’t that going to happen anyway?”

“Jae… not right now, okay? I don’t want your bitter pills at the moment, ‘cuz they will make me want to punch you.”

“You’re fucking violent. Fine. He’s probably hiding at Bambam's.”

“Yeah I was planning on going there if I didn’t find him here.”

“Cool, call me if you need anything.” You nodded and went outside to hail a taxi hoping and praying to find him.

If Yugyeom really was at Bambams, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even be let in, on account of you having hurt his best friend and all; but you still had to try.

Luckily, since his house was on the second floor and had a window facing the entry, you at least could be sure that he was at home. The lights were on.

You rang the bell and waited.

No answer

You rang it again.

Still no answer.

You then called his number, to see if the incoming call ringtone could be heard from outside. A millisecond later you heard his phone. There was no doubt that he was inside. And there would have been no need to keep you out unless Yugyeom was there as well.

“BamBam come on.”

The door knob melodiously clicked open and he slipped out through the tiniest gap, not letting you peek inside

“I can’t let you in bro.”

“I know Yugyeom’s here.”

“That’s why I can’t let you in. Didn’t he say not to contact him?”

“He said not to call. I didn’t call. Just let me see him Bam.”

“Why do you want to see him. He broke up with you, didn’t he? I told you we’ll hash it out depending on how it goes between you both. Well, this is how it is. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Bam he broke up with me to make it easy on me. So that I can leave ‘guilt-free’. Does that make any sense to you?”

“So you’re actually going huh?”

“I-”, you fumbled “I don’t know. Part of me that loves my job tells me I have to. The other part that loves him tells me I don’t want to. Let me talk to him, please Bam? It’s the last favour I’ll ask of you for a long time.”

“You know, you both are being really messy.” he sighed and punched in the code to his apartment. “I’m going to get some drinks. Make it quick.”

You hugged him before heading inside “Thank you.”

When Yugyeom saw you at the doorway, he cursed. “Fuckin hell Bam.'' He was not pleased to see you.

“He left to get some drinks.”

“Please I’m not in the mood for this, just leave. I know you came here hoping to change my mind.”

“Yugyeom did you really think you cutting me off like that was going to make me feel any differently?”

“Did you even try?”

“Try what?”

“Feeling differently?”

“Why don’t you tell me first?”

“I don’t have to. I’m not the one leaving.” That sentence stung you in the chest.

“And what if I don’t?”

“What?”

“What if I don’t go to London. What if I don’t accept it?”

“Then you’re a dumbass.” He got up from the chair he’d been occupying, several paces away from you and moved even further away as you finally stepped out of the foyer and inside the living room.

“Excuse me?” Did you just call me a dumbass?”

“Yeah, I did. Because you’re acting like one. Why the fuck would you turn down your dream

job?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Wow, the one time I expect you to use your logic, you don’t. Remember yesterday, you asked if I would pack up my whole world and shift to London with you? And I said nothing? So if I can’t do that for you, then you shouldn’t have to do that for me. I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your career noona.”

“But I have to Yugyeom. If I choose my career, we break up. If I stay here, I lose my promotion. Let’s call a spade a spade, yeah?”

“Yes that’s why I took myself out of this equation. I know I said I’m giving you an easy out, but really, it’s for me. I didn’t want to hear you say you’re choosing your job. Because of course that shit will hurt me. And I can’t ask you to stay because that’s a selfish thing to do. You know you don't want to pass over this opportunity. Why are you making this so hard for the both of us?”

“I’m making this hard?” you questioned.

“Yeah, you are. The faster I’m trying to bury it, the more you want to dig it out.”

“So is this it? This is how you want it to end between us?”

“Do you have another way?”

“We have five days.”

“I can’t watch you leave me and not be able to do shit about it. I fucking can’t.”

“Okay.. and you have made up your mind?”

“Yeah”

“Do whatever you want then, I guess” you conceded, your words full of anger and frustration, and went back towards the door.

His heart felt so heavy. He wanted to run to you and ask you to never leave him and kiss you so badly, but held himself back with everything he had. He had to hold himself back. If he gave in right now, he’d be in a much stronger world of pain later.

“Yugyeom, if you change your mind…. you know where to find me” you stated before slamming the door shut.

There wasn’t much else you could really do about it other than comply with his wishes.

The sad part of it all was that you always did intend to accept the promotion and transfer to London, you were too ashamed to admit it. The decision you’d been stalling had finally reached it’s obvious conclusion and you felt nothing. No happiness, no sadness, no anger - it was like falling into a grave of white noise, endlessly, without any safety net or ground to actually hit.

During the ride back home, while you sent out messages to all the people who needed to be told; back at BamBam’s house Yugyeom had chugged two bottles of Soju in spite of BamBam’s protests.

“You fucker, I’m gonna call everyone over so they can beat your ass, if you don’t slow down.”

“Don’t care” Yugyeom muttered, while opening a third bottle. “Let’s party. Fuck some bitches.”

“Oh you wanna fuck some bitches or you wanna fuck a bitch who just left like fifteen minutes ago.”

“She’s not a bitch be nice.”

“Oh fuck’s sake, I’m calling hyung”.

“Which one?”

“All of them”.

#got7 #yugyeom #GOT7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #yugyeom smut #got7creators #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom fanfic #yugyeom angst #got7 smut #greasy posts #fr:yugyeom #rating:m

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wearesorcerer · 4 years ago

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[5e] 9th-Level Spells

You may be wondering why I’m starting my review of 5e spells with the highest level spells available. That’s simple: you only get one.

The 5e Sorcerer table isn’t quite like the 3.x one, but it is like the 3.5 Warlock and Psion: at any given level, you can known X spells and have Y spell level as your maximum. The table is elegant, but you have to know to level your character from first level rather than reading the table straight across if you’re making a higher level character. (I’ve made this mistake many a time. It’s why I dislike this sort of table: it looks nice but isn’t actually helpful.)

If you’re trying to have as many spells of the highest available spell level as possible, you would have from 0th to 9th 6/3/2/2/2/2/1/1/1/1. I find it easier to work backwards in this case, as you can say “I want to reserve X spells known for higher-level spells” and then figure out how many low-level ones you can have instead of getting to a higher level and running into a corner.

The question with 9th-level spells is not “what’s good?” because they’re all good. Rather, it’s “what’s worth taking as my single most powerful class feature?” That should narrow things down a lot.

Primary List

gate · mass polymorph · meteor swarm · power word kill · psychic scream · time stop · wish

I’ve written about wish and time stop ZA WARUDO! (time crunchy noises), but not in the context of 5e. Wish has changed substantially; time stop hasn’t. You have a few options, but the majority of them are boom-boom.

Gate: you can hold open an interplanar portal for as long as you concentrate (up to a minute) at the cost of a 5,000 gp diamond; if you know the name of a specific creature, you can use the spell to summon that creature. For some odd reason, gate is both the most Warlock spell in the game besides planar binding, yet is only a Warlock spell through a UA variant. For a Sorcerer, this could be useful, but you’re making your best spell cost you money every time you cast it. Strategically speaking, this spell is situational enough (read: a Wizard spell) that if you wanted it in the first place you should take it with the Ritual Caster feat, but for some reason this most obviously ritualistic spell isn’t a ritual. There are better uses for your spell known, but this is by no means a bad spell. Save for a scroll or something.

Mass Polymorph: you polymorph (Wis negates) up to ten creatures you can see within 120 ft. for as long as you concentrate (up to one hour), just like with polymorph. It incorporates animal shapes into it. If you want animal shapes, you should find a way of getting it instead: you don’t need a 9th-level spell slot for it (so can cast it more often -- 8th + 9th level spell slots), it lasts for 24 hours, and you can affect more creatures (30 ft. area = radius = 96 squares - the one you’re in = 95 Medium creatures [more if they’re smaller and squeezing together]). I don’t care for the concentration aspect of the 5e polymorph spells. I mean, I get the rationale, I just find it odd for this particular spell -- and I’d rather not give my opponent a tactical reason to target me. Pass.

Meteor Swarm: four fireballs fall from the sky and each deal 20d6 fire + 20d6 bludgeoning (Dex half; average 140 damage), setting everything they touch ablaze. Beautiful. I love meteor-style spells, so this is high on my list even though it’s a boom-boom spell and I’m not particularly boom-boom oriented. The best part of this is that it has a range of one mile, so you can destroy enemy armies without risking getting killed! Yay! Yes.

Power Word Kill: one creature within 60 ft. of 100 HP or less drops dead (no save). 100 HP is more than the average of many high-level characters, so unless the DM gave a boss max HP you can use this to kill even major opponents reliably. An optimizer will tell you that a spell without a save is something you should always take -- and would be correct insofar as it makes you more difficult to stop. I, however, dislike that mechanic: there’s almost no reason a spell shouldn’t have a save. This one should have the choice of Wis (resisting the mental influence) and Con (staying alive despite the heart attack/stroke/whatever). A very good spell, but I’d call it OP.

Psychic Scream: 10 creatures of Int 3+ within 90 ft. take 14d6 psychic damage and are stunned (Int half [damage]/negates [stunning]); their heads explode if they die. The beauty of this one is that it goes off of Int rather than Wis (meaning Wizards are the only targets you really need to worry about) and it automatically avoids friendly fire. Yes.

Time Stop ZA WARUDO!: you get 1d4 + 1 rounds to act, but the spell ends if anything you do (including effects you create) affect other creatures or objects someone else is wearing or carrying or you move more than 1,000 ft. from where you cast the spell. The main purpose of this spell is to buff yourself a lot, run the fuck away, or stack delayed blast fireballs to deal a buttload of damage. That’s all very nice, but it’s a continuation of the 3.0 nerf to the spell: in 2nd ed, you could pull a DIO and attack people or an Over the Hedge and steal things. Now for my main quibble. 3.5′s Player’s Handbook II had the celerity line of spells, which you could cast as an immediate action (choice of reaction or bonus action). Each one dazed (incapacitated) you afterward, but gave you an extra move (lesser), action (no prefix), or round (greater) to do with as you pleased. I’m willing to guess that there are similar spells in 5e. In 3.5, there were ways of becoming immune to dazing; maybe there’s a 5e-compatible build for that. Either way, as a 9th-level spell, I should get to throw knives at people to my heart’s content before dropping heavy objects (like steam road rollers) on them. Good, but I’m going to go to my grave complaining about the restrictions.

Wish: you can do practically anything, but you have a one in three chance of losing your ability to cast your highest-level spell. IT’S A TRAP!

For very personal reasons, I’m torn between meteor swarm and time stop, but psychic scream is also up there. I think power word kill is unfair, but I cannot say that it’s a bad spell. I don’t like mass polymorph, but I think that’s more me not liking how 5e deals with durations. Wish is too big of a risk for a Sorcerer: you have the chance of losing the most powerful class feature you get and have nothing else that can compensate for that loss (unlike a Wizard); it’s better as a scroll. Gate really should be a ritual, but it isn’t, and it’s expensive, so it really depends on how badly you need to move lots and lots of creatures or summon forth an Elder God.

Divine Soul (Cleric) List

astral projection · gate · mass heal · true resurrection

I’ve already covered gate, thankfully.

Astral Projection: exactly what it says on the tin for you and eight willing creatures. I have never understood why this spell is so high-level. Mechanically, it’s riskier and more expensive than casting plane shift, which is two levels lower. Thematically, it’s a mass version of an effect which in folklore is almost always caster-only, which makes no sense, and it’s at max-level when this is fairly standard practice for shaman and shaman-like figures. (Heck, that’s what a bunch of the associated drug culture is about!) Maybe someone can explain to me why you would want to use this spell. Pass.

Mass Heal: heal 700 HP divided as you choose among any number of creatures (except constructs and undead) you can see within 60 ft.; also cures them of all diseases, blindness, and deafness. On the one hand, this seems like a great spell with a raid or during a cataclysm. On the other, you can accomplish everything this does with lower-level spells. Pretty good, but maybe hold out for...

True Resurrection: a creature you touch (or whose name you speak) is restored to life and perfect health (no wounds, no missing limbs, cured of all diseases and poisons, freed from any curses), even if there are no remains, provided the creature has been dead for no longer than 200 years and is free/willing to return. PICK THIS ONE!

Variant List (UA)

Foresight: for eight hours, a creature you touch can’t be surprised, gets advantage on most d20 checks, and causes all creatures attacking it to roll with disadvantage. This is better than the 3.5 version, which was already very good. Yes, this. Very.

Really Cool Spells It’d Be Great to Take If You Could

Or me lamenting about the limitations of the Sorcerer list

imprisonment · invulnerability · power word heal · prismatic wall · ravenous void · shapechange · storm of vengeance · time ravage · true polymorph · weird

Imprisonment: you know any of those fairy tale/folklore/mythology spells that trap someone for, like, ever? This is it. (Combines the spell of the same name, maze, and binding from 3.5.) You’ve got options if you want to seal someone away -- and it lasts until you say otherwise. Sure, it’d be nice if it were a ritual, but it ain’t; you just gotta take a minute to cast it (and throw in 500 gp. of material per HD of the target).

Invulnerability: you are immune to damage for up to 10 minutes (at the cost of “a piece of adamantine” [in D&D, that’s closer to depleted uranium than it is to diamond] of 500+ gp.). Maybe you don’t like the cost for a spell of that level, but hey, invulnerability.

Power Word Heal: target (non-construct, non-undead) regains all HP; has the charmed, frightened, paralyzed, and stunned conditions removed; and can stand up as a reaction if prone. This is a Bard spell, but it’s on the Cleric and Druid variant lists, so probably is an option for Divine Souls. I can see it being handy, but you’d think mass heal would be a better choice.

Prismatic Wall: you conjure up a rainbow wall/sphere (as prismatic spray) that’s a bitch to get rid of. You want an abjuration? This is it.

Ravenous Void: a miniature black hole that needs some errata (how many spaces do creatures and objects getting sucked in move each round?). It’s ludicrously awesome, though.

Shapechange: other than true polymorph, this is what you want out of polymorphing magic.

Storm of Vengeance: let’s say you want all of the boom-boom of meteor swarm but are more meteorologically focused. Here’s your answer. You end up dealing an average of 49 damage (of three elemental types and bludgeoning) to each creature below a storm cloud (360 ft. radius) you conjure within sight. There’s an arbitrary distance beneath the cloud included, as it doesn’t say how far up the cloud has to be.

Time Ravage: you decrepify someone with timey-wimey magic -- but it’s somehow necromancy!

True Polymorph: you can transform almost anything into almost anything else. The limits on this spell are basically to keep you from thinking you’re a literal god and overall I’d think this would work better in a skill-based magic system, but nonetheless it’s quite clearly the best polymorphing spell in the game.

Weird: this is mass phantasmal killer. It’s directly comparable to psychic scream -- Illusion rather than Enchantment, fear rather than stunning, and more potential targets in a smaller burst instead of headsplosions.

#5e #spells

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gruntydiecast · 4 years ago

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Casting Call: Vector WX-3

Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these, and now, here comes the second installment of probably my favorite saga to date: the Vector Saga. Thanks to the current situation, the delivery of my car was delayed, but it’s here now, and here we are.

Remember the W8? That wedge-shaped car which I felt was more extreme than the already extreme Lamborghini Countach? It’ll need a worthy successor... and this’ll be it. This... is the Vector WX-3.

First, as usual, a bit of background. The Vector WX-3 was a prototype American sports car manufactured by a company known as Vector Motors, then known as Vector Aeromotive. The car was designed by Gerald “Jerry” Wiegert, founder of Vector Aeromotive. The car was officially known as the AWX-3, standing for Avtech Wiegert Experimental Model 3; the “3” signified that the WX-3 was the third model Vector had made, after the W2 and W8.

The WX-3 was intended to be the successor to the W8, conceived by Wiegert in 1992. The WX-3 was more extreme than the W8 was, featuring three engine configurations, allowing for some ludicrous power that would be even on par with modern hypercar standards.

The beating heart of the WX-3 was intended to be a 7.0L V8 with variable boost for the twin-turbochargers. Yes, this thing had variable boost, just like the W8. This allowed for settings between 600 BHP to a staggering 1,200 BHP, on par with many modern hypercars. The prototypes used the same highly-modified 6.0L Rodeck twin-turbo V8 as seen on the W8.

The car’s interior was also very similar to that of the W8’s, featuring a screen as opposed to analog gauges. The car also featured the same Sony CDX-A2001 ten-disc CD changer gracing the right side of the cockpit as the W8, as well as the same 3-speed Turbo-HydraMatic 425 automatic transmission mated to that beast of an engine; the transmission also had the same fighter aircraft throttle-like device. Vector employees had stated that while the prototypes used the three-across seating arrangement found on certain W8s, it would be more likely that the production WX-3 would use two bucket seats.

The car also featured the same scissor door setup as the W8.

Rear visibility on the WX-3 still wasn’t too great, although it was a marked improvement over the practically non-existent rear visibility of the W8. The rear of the car looks a lot more subdued compared to the front. As usual, it appears the location of the license plate holder was likely an afterthought.

The WX-3 also incorporates what I guess could be considered a very early version of active aero systems, featuring two movable flaps which lifted up when the car was braking, acting as an airbrake.

The WX-3 was first shown off at the 1992 Geneva Motor Show, although at first, strictly a design study, sans engine. The car was originally painted silver. After the car returned from Geneva, a related car joined it: the WX-3R.

The WX-3R was essentially the roadster version of the WX-3, with both sharing mechanical components and similar styling. However, the WX-3R featured dual bucket seats as opposed to the three-abreast seating of the WX-3 and was painted purple.

The WX-3 and WX-3R were then both displayed at the 1993 Geneva Motor Show, with the WX-3 having been repainted into aquamarine; this was done to promote another of Wiegert’s companies, Aquajet, a manufacturer of personal watercrafts, as the Aquajet logo featured aquamarine and purple as its primary colors. In fact, both the WX-3 and WX-3R appeared on the Aquajet website; however it appears the website is currently broken and will require an archival tool such as the Wayback Machine to access.

The WX-3 was intended to be put into production in 1993; however, problems began to surface.

In 1993, as Wiegert was preparing for production of the WX-3, a rather shady Indonesian company with Bermudan ties named MegaTech forced a hostile takeover of Vector Aeromotive; this ultimately led to the firing of Wiegert from his own company. MegaTech then attempted to produce the WX-3, but Wiegert sued the company and copyrighted his own design, so MegaTech could not produce the WX-3. Ironically, this would also spell the end of the WX-3; only two were produced.

Wiegert eventually regained control of the company and has been working on a new car known as the WX-8 for numerous years now; in fact, it’s been so long we may as well call it developmental hell. The WX-3 and WX-3R also came back under Wiegert’s ownership. However, in order to fund development of the WX-8, Wiegert decided to auction off both the WX-3 and WX-3R at a Sotheby’s auction in 2019; both cars were ultimately auctioned off in mid-January 2019, with the WX-3 fetching $617,500 and the WX-3R fetching $500,000. Both are now in the hands of private collectors.

Prior to the auction, the WX-3 appeared in an episode of the Burke’s Law reboot and was also spotted at various car shows.

Okay, now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let’s get to the reason why you’re here.

This… is the Hot Wheels version of the Vector WX-3. Named the Vector “Avtech” WX-3 in the Hot Wheels lineup, this casting was first introduced in 1993 as a Vector employee exclusive, as shown above; the car was painted in the silver color that was originally on the actual car. Only 500 of this version was produced. This casting, like many other castings designed throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, was designed by Larry Wood.

A more common version, painted in the purple as seen on the real WX-3R, was released the same year. A version exists of the purple version with normal 5SP wheels.

The WX-3 has a plastic roof which is riveted onto the rear. No back window is present. This casting features notably very few tampos, apart from the Vector logo on the wing and the black semicircle on the door intended to represent the lower window. The side vents are noticeable open and one can peer through them.

For the record, there isn’t very much going on in the rear of this casting either. Just the rear mesh grill, taillamps and triangular exhaust pipes.

The WX-3 has one of the least releases of any supercar or hypercar concept made by Hot Wheels around this period, with only five known releases. The casting was retooled slightly in 1997, with the prominent side vents closed off. This would ironically be the casting’s last release to date, in the Super Show Cars 5-Pack in 1997 (a version exists with open side vents, shown below), alongside the Dodge Viper RT/10, Jaguar XJ220, Avus quattro and Zender Fact 4. A few other combinations of the 5-Pack exist but this is the only one containing the Vector.

As mentioned above, this casting has not been seen since 1997; it has not been featured in any edition of the Final Run Series, but is assumed to have been retired since the casting has not appeared in the mainline for over 20 years and is unlikely to return.

I hope this long writeup has given you a better idea on this turbocharged thrasher, and what is quite possibly my new favorite supercar from the ‘90s; step aside, Ferrari F50. As usual, I’d do something like this any day.

This article is the second in a three-part series I will call The Vector Saga. The series will document the W8, the WX-3, and the history of Vector Motors as a whole.

#hotwheels #CastingCall #vectorwx3 #vectoravtechwx3 #avtechwx3 #larrywood #ThatTimeForgot #vectoraeromotive #thevectorsaga

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moonlit-nest · 5 years ago

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I got our Wizard a gift

So I play 5E with all of my school friends, right? Quick background of our party makeup: Our DM, of course, and then me, a Paladin (don’t worry, I’m not the “Lawful Stupid” Variety) Sorcerer multiclass named Sunn. Additionally, you’ve got Fib the Rogue, Kepesk the Bloodhunter, Lotë the Druid, Edgar the Fighter and Minthe the Wizard.

So, my character, Sunn, is a pretty nice guy. At least, he tries to be. He thinks about others and likes to handle party talking and social skills, due to Charisma being his primary stat. Not always, but usually. He’s kindhearted, charming, and passionate about the people he cares for. Then you’ve got our Wizard, Minthe... complete 180. A Necromancer who tends to front a cold shoulder, and doesn’t seem to really care about other people. At least, not at first (there were backstory reasons as to why she acted the way she did at times, though that’s for another tale). She raises the dead despite the social stigma behind her specialized magic, and tends to take a no shit attitude, and an all or nothing approach. I guess in a way you could say she and Sunn both took the role of joint “Speakers” for the group, since Sunn was the lighthearted “let’s go, team!” Type of guy who rallies his comrades, and Minthe opposed this by keeping the group on track and focused, and was surprisingly level headed, even during times of crisis. You’d think they wouldn’t really get along, right?

Well, as it turns out, they actually clicked, and surprisingly well! Maybe it was that they were both dedicated and experienced casters, maybe it was that Minthe found my strange character interesting (he’s a Furry, which is almost basically unheard of in our setting by the DM, unless you count established races like Lizardfolk or Arakockra under the furry umbrella term. Buy and large though, Sunn was pretty unique), but they grew to have a slightly antagonistic but genuine friendship the first chance our group got to chill and roleplay in an inn. To get an idea of what their relationship looks like overall, Minthe’s player and I often joke about situations the two could find themselves in, and how, generally speaking, Minthe and Sunn make jabs at the others expense frequently, but always in good fun, as they know each other well enough to not take it so far as to hurt one another’s feelings. In fact, when things get serious, they work surprisingly well together! Admittedly, that may be in part due to the fact that Minthe’s player and I (we’ll call her... Sam, for the sake of privacy 💛) have a pretty good relationship outside of D&D, and we both are very experienced D&D and role players, so we just mesh easily. So, with that context in mind, we come to the story part. Our party had recently traveled underground (long story short, it was a more secret route into the castle of the city we were under, we were rescuing an innocent woman from execution). There was a puzzle we had to get past involving the guard of said underground path (Sam did a great job here, as she had to tell the guard a story that would entertain him in order to pass, and she rolled very high along with her very good roleplaying, which was more than enough to let us pass), and then we were in the stretch towards the underground criminal base that would allow us passage to the castle from the inside. As we make our way through the narrow cavern, which slowly filled with water, insuring we didn’t lag behind too much, we made our way to a... very... peculiar area. The walls seemed to end, and all around us looked like a night sky, even below the semi-opaque stairway that seemed to slowly crawl downwards. We had outpaced the water in this point, so we were free to carefully observe our surroundings in this otherworldly zone... I’m not exactly sure what this was to be honest, but my current theory was, at some point, we failed to perceive a portal of some kind that connected us to this magical hallway, a limbo between the cavern to wherever the underground criminal zone was. Anyway, no point in delaying, we begin proceeding downwards into the abyss, dimly (and I do mean dimly) lit by artificial star lights.

I should mention that, at this point, we concluded this session. A week passed us by, and we were hyped! Unfortunately, Sam was unable to proceed with this week’s session due to family business I believe, so we agreed to proceed with the session and edify her on the events immediately once the session concluded. As for Minthe, we felt it would be wrong to do her the disservice of just pretending she was there but not letting her do anything, so, despite our lack of a character sheet, we agreed to let someone use her character. I took that role, since I had the relative most experience with both 5E and Spellcasting out of the rest of the players at the time.

Now, resuming the in game events, we’re traveling through this odd realm of darkness, faint light, and downward stairs. Eventually, we begin to worry a little, so we all decide we’ll be making perception rolls to keep cautious. The dice were rolled, and every single one of our characters heard a strange series of noises as we listened... it sounded like... chittering...

Naturally, we’re unnerved. This was the first thing we had in this campaign that even felt reminiscent of horror themed, so we weren’t sure what the DM had planned... we get our vigil, and remained stalwart, proceeding further below. Eventually, we see the outline of a massive set of doubled doors, complete with large handles that were probably higher up than Lotë, who I wanna say was the shortest member of the party. However, the doors aren’t all we see. Above, we see multiple lights flicker in the darkness. One, two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty... tens... hundreds. Blinking in quick succession. They were a slightly different color than the stars surrounding us. These, as was obvious, were no stars. From just above the door, an incredible and mortifying sight revealed itself - a monstrous, gargantuan, opalescent Spider, the starlight now reflecting off of its revealed form, its razor sharp fangs, needle pointed legs and gemstone-fortified body sparkling in all of its death-foretelling glory. Then, as if things couldn’t be worse, the seemingly infinite eyes of above closed down towards us - hundreds of smaller twinkling spiders, raining down upon us.

Roll Initiative. Our Bloodhunter Kepesk went first, activating his crimson rite on his weapon and charging for the spider. Then a small group of the swarm attacked everyone in a small enough zone, dealing minimal, but still noteworthy, piercing damage. Keep in mind that the fact that this battle takes place on a stairway limits our mobility, lest we risk falling off of said stairs into who knew where...

The orders continue, Sunn strengthening the party with his magic, Lotë hurling spells and supporting friends when needed, wisely using fire to help ward against the webs that the many abominations sometimes used to keep us in place, Edgar bravely defending his friends with his viscous morning star, Kepesk distracting the leader of the creatures and dealing significant damage with his ice-coated scythe, Fib narrowly dodging and weaving through attacks and cleverly using the darkness to pass checks (presumably for being able to disengage and hide) before returning to the fray with impressive sneak attack damage, and Minthe channeling her most powerful spells at her disposal to decimate the army of spiders. Now, Kepesk, he’s a... cocky son of a bitch. Well, mayhaps not cocky, but I lack a better term. He’s absolutely chaotic, as is his player, though in the best way possible. He only does nonsense when he knows it can benefit the group, or at least himself and not harm the group, and it always makes for a good laugh! This boss fight would be no different, as he evades and disengages from the giant spider, and attempts to use her own weapons against her - by charming one of the spiders. Not, you know, magically charming them or commanding them. Just... you know, trying to tame it. In the middle of the fight. While also dodging the flurry of swipes and jabs from the boss. It may sound ridiculous, but we just thought it was as hilarious as it was badass, and we were dying of laughter, even the DM was into it (despite the fact that she later described never in a million years anticipating it, so good on her for being awesome about improvising shit). Now, he did, admittedly, have to earn it. A check to learn more about the spiders, a check to calm the spider, and then a few other things to make sure it didn’t die, fall, etc etc, since we were trying to kill as many spiders as possible, and he was sandwiched between the horde and the boss. He definitely suffered some hits and had to earn his pet gem spider, but, he did! Now, I see this, and I’m laughing while I think of a way to help. Maybe I have a spell that can make his checks easier, or buy him some time by getting the boss spider’s attention with a Divine Smite from Sunn, as I still had one last spell slot for him. But, I realized, Sunn rolled less than adequate on his initiative, and he was out for more than a few rounds, at least six or so. Minthe, however? She was next.

Now, for whatever reason, my thoughts lingered on Sam. “Man”, I thought, “what would Sam think if she were in this situation with Minthe?” Well, quickly, I had an answer. I smiled to myself, now giggling quietly. “She’d want a pet of her own, right?” I thought to myself. I mean, I wasn’t sure if she had a familiar or not at the time, but I knew the idea was humored by Sam and our DM. Maybe, just maybe, I could actually pull it off! A check to figure out what these things are, how to tame them, just get Sunn or Edgar to protect her from some spiders and boom, should be easy, right? Yes, it was. Just... not as easy as I thought it would be. “DM?” I ask, politely. “Wassup?” She asks in return, awaiting my response. “Minthe notices Kepesk not fighting with one of the spiders, and reasons that she’s away from most of the enemies... can she try to tame a spider as well?” She thinks on it for a second, and asks me to explain my reasoning, which I do. Minthe was known for being a little strange, since she was a Necromancer and didn’t really give a damn what people thought about her, so it’s not like it was out of character. I also add that it would be a nice surprise for Sam, since she had thought about getting Minthe a familiar before, and maybe this would be a way to ease that desire until a real familiar could be obtained (she ended up getting a... raven, or maybe a crow, as her legit familiar. He’s hilarious and can communicate using telepathy, he’s surprisingly eloquent with common, if a bit snarky)! The DM rules that I can certainly try, and to roll an Arcana check to learn more about these creatures. Minthe, being a wizard, had a very high score, and I rolled decently, between 10 and 15, so I was safe, and learned all of the information Kepesk had. Then, I roll another Arcana check to try and tame it (the reason I rolled Arcana and not Animal Handling, as I recall, was that Minthe was using her knowledge and actual facts of how to tame the creatures as opposed to intuitive care for the animal). I pick up my D20, shake it with both hands, and mumble “pleeeeaaase work..” to myself. I let go, and a few clacks ring out. People were curious if I could do it. Natural 20. I was pumped for the rest of the night - not only was the spider okay with chilling with Minthe, it fell in love! With two new allies on our side, we defeated the rest of the pests and took down the Massive Spider herself! Victory was ours, and the session ended as we pushed open the heavy metal gates, greeted with the sight of relatively civilized society. It was full of crooks, but at least there was an inn, so we felt pretty damn good. I eagerly texted Sam the report of the session that night once I was in my car on the way home (wasn’t driving, lol), and told her the tale of how she would have a viscous, dangerous little crystal spider to roleplay with as her character in the next session. To this day, both Minthe and Kepesk still have their spider kids and they honestly love them very, very much. The End! 💛

#dnd #d&d #dnd storytime

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iamalivenow · 5 years ago

Text

There's-

Claudia has to turn away, take a deep breath. An even deeper than that breath. Everything feels like it's on fire, metaphorically. Even though her head hurts and her chest hurts and she's probably having a prolonged panic attack. Which is fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. She's- she's still alive and Soren is still alive somewhere and so are Callum and Ezran probably and everything's okay. The battlefield is clearing out and she's mostly alone, Just her and her-

There's-

Okay so maybe everything isn't fine. This isn't just Soren paralyzed, this is way worse. Some of it seeps into her boots and she takes a few more steps back. The smell isn't that bad- but she guesses she's used to being around dead things. Most of them don't look like this but-

She coughs. She can fix this- she can fix anything. Broken is just another word for delayed solution. Dead is just another word for inconvenienced. She's got this- she's totally got it. It's not a-

There's-

Okay so. What remains of her father is splattered over the rocky earth, and she's all alone and she has to pull herself together and fix it. By pulling her dad together. Literally. Piece by piece. She's sweating, stress mostly, probably, hair plastered to her forehead. Weird how no one wrote any spells about making goo into a person again.

But she's got this, she's totally got it.

Just find something big enough to work as a reconstituting agent. Or at least something to put all of the bits back, for now.

One step at a time, just like dad always taught her.

She's in Xadia. Even the dirt is magic. The Sunfire staff is light in her grasp. She would know, she's been white knuckling it for the past two days.

One tiny baby step at a time.

She can start with not puking. That would be so good. Great, even. Think, Claudia, what's good for fixing bones, for fixing skin. If she can just fix the bulk of him, she can remake the organs. She's got this. She's totally completely one hundred percent got this.

“Okay.” Her voice sounds rough and she clears her throat. “Time to find some dirt.”

…

She finds a cave after a while, and the big bear thing that was living in the cave.

She's fine, by the way. She's still fine. Her hands won't stop shaking but that's to be expected with all of the magic she's using. Her clothes are gross, but that's a given too, what with all of the... parts of her dad she's been working with. Things stain. She'll get it out once he's back. One step at a time.

Her hair is turning whiter again. What used to be one single streak is spreading, further and further along. She thinks maybe there is some magic in her after all. That humans just have to worker harder to get it out, to pay a price while they do.

The big bear thing she puts to sleep after almost getting clawed to death. She'll wake it back up when dad's more himself.

And right around then is when the bug shows up.

It stares at her, covered in viscera, and at the big sleeping bear thing, and settles by Viren. It barely looks hurt and she has no idea how her dad could be in pieces and the bug not even bruised.

She hates it.

She really hates that thing.

“What are you.” She hisses out, eyes still dark from the sleep spell, and prods it with the end of her staff.

“Tired.” It tells her and she almost passes out right there and then. Really. A girl can only take so much and this bug is absolutely pushing it. Her hands itch in that... bad way they do sometimes. She swallows again. It's not like dad wouldn't believe that it got hurt irreparably right? It was a tall mountain.

Is it- is it smiling at her-

“How didn't you-”

“Don't fret the details.” It's voice is deep. Creepy deep. She grips the staff even tighter, nails digging into her palm. “I just need a moment and I'll be out of your hair.”

“Don't even think about getting into it.” She straightens herself up and walks out of the cave.

It's not that she hates bugs- bugs can be really cool sometimes. Really useful. It's just this one. This big purple glow worm thing.

Ugh.

Something is warm and wet on her face. She doesn't have time for it but it's there and the back of throat burns and her eyes burn and everything still feels like its kind of on fire.

She could leave, she thinks, and hates herself for it. She could turn away and find Soren and apologize and just leave. Her chest feels tight and it feels like her stomach is dropping into her feet. It's like it was with Soren but maybe ten times worse, because it was just Soren then. Now it's dad and Soren and the stupid worm and she has to do what she has to do. She has to save her dad- she has to- she has to because. Because she has to do what has to be done.

She feels sick.

She sits on the rocky floor at the base of a mountain. Head on her knees, holding onto her robes because her palms are sweating and the staff at her side.

She's never been this scared before.

…

When she comes back a day later with the rest of her spell components the worm is gone.

For a moment she thinks all of her problems are solved. That would be so great, if all her problems just solved themselves.

But then it comes crawling down the cave wall and she frowns.

“I thought you'd get out of my hair already.” She starts setting her tools around her dad, poking at the black and blue skin. It still has give, this can still work-

“You got out of mine.”

“You have hair?”

“Debatably.” Its voice is jovial and that just makes her hands itch again. “You don't have to like me, you know.”

“Good. I don't.”

It laughs, maybe chuckles instead, tilting it's head from side to side.

“Honesty is dangerous.” It tells her. It scurries down onto the cave floor and looks through her ingredients. “You would be of better use to your father if you could lie.”

“I can lie.” She says defensively, and pulls away the jar of scales before the bug has a chance to climb onto it. “I'm just not going to waste my many talents on a bug.” That gets another laugh. It would be so easy to lift her foot up and stomp down. So, so easy.

“You're angry.” It says and with out asking crawls up her robes instead. “At me or at him?”

Both, she almost says, but swallows the word. She stops it from climbing up higher with her staff, and it dangles off the end of it like a snake. Hissing would be preferable to chittering though.

“It doesn't matter.”

“It doesn't.” It nods. “Because you're going to do what has to be done anyway.” She's fine. She's okay. She's good. She's. She's- her throat burns again.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. Why is she the one in charge, why does she have to be the one to fix dad, why does Soren get to leave?

“I'm fine.”

“Hm.” It lets itself off of the staff and falls the short distance to the floor. “I'll be taking that side. You don't mind horrifically do you?”

“No.” She lies like it wants her to. “For what?”

“You're fixing your father's body. I'll be fixing mine.”

“You seem fine too me.”

“Sure.” It moves away from her, and up the wall again, all the way to the ceiling. “But I could always be better.”

…

Two days later, dad's awake.

He's bruised still, and half her hair is snow white, but dad's awake. She starts a fire while dad ignores her to run his hands over the bug's creepy glowy cocoon. She doesn't know what he wants out of it, what he's going to get out if it. What kind of ugly moth is going to come crawling out? She could ask, but the way dad looks, she's pretty sure he doesn't know.

Now that dad's okay though, her clothes are gross and she's still tired- exhausted all the way down into her bones.

“I'm going to sleep.” She says and Viren finally turns away from it.

“Anything you need. I'm so proud of you, Claudia.” He comes up and hugs her and she's almost frozen. But she isn't- instead her arms around his shoulders and she ignores him when he winces. She's crying again.

Dad hugs her back.

She remembers what feels like a million years ago now. She had done her first spell, started a firestorm in the backyard of their small summer house. She had singed her hands pretty badly, but Soren had yelled and jumped around and picked her up and brought her all the way to dad. And Viren had looked at her burnt hands and pulled her into the tightest hug and told her he was proud of her then too.

She cried then because her hands hurt, and she had felt bad, she thinks, for the beetles she had crushed to make the flame go bright and fast and radiant.

The stupid ugly light show behind her bathes all of the walls in blue.

The beetles had been hard to crush, the shells that held the phosphor were tightly packed for her eight year old hands.

A cocoon seems way easier to break.

#writing #full fic #long post #the dragon prince #tdp #claudia

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pickybearcub · 4 years ago

Text

Getting to know Spiderboy: Chapter 9

Pairings: Peter Parker x OC Genre: Friendship/ Adventure/ Family Warnings: None

Summary: Ten minutes. Ten minutes was all it took. She found his backpack in the alley and left before he got there. Now, before Peter knows it, Ned thinks he has a secret girlfriend and Spiderman has to be her kibble runner.

Note: Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Masterlist

"Internship retreat?"

"It was such a surprise for me too." May gushed. "Peter didn't tell me anything until Tony Stark himself came to say that he was accepted for the internship. Though, honestly, I don't like that man very much, but it will still be a once in a lifetime chance for Peter."

"Wow." Was all Nadia could say. She'd expected that Ironman would take notice soon. Trying to approximate time was still a tricky thing. Besides, a super-powered vigilante popping up practically beside the Avengers tower would garner attention quickly.

The "retreat" must have been related to something about the Avengers. The latest news was that Captain America had gone rogue. It was that, right?

"I'm proud of him. But I wish he told me. It was a bit of a rush when Mister Stark had him whisked away for the retreat." May chuckled.

Nadia smiled. "He probably just wanted to be sure that he got it before he told you."

May mirrored the younger woman's expression. "That would be just like Peter."

Nadia spent a bit longer with Peter's aunt, sharing some gossip and a recipe for turkey meatloaf. She figured there wasn't much she could do for now. Peter would be in Berlin for a few days.

She didn't want to go to the archives to study. She'd already gone there months ago. She knew that she would start overthinking things if she went through the books again.

The dark-haired woman thought about the fight that the teen was going to be involved in. She knew she didn't have anything to worry about and that Peter would pretty much have the time of his life.

But still…

He was going to face some heavy hitters.

"New York, Queens. It's a rough borough, but hey, it's home-"

"Who you talking to?" Happy interrupted.

"No one. Just making a little video of the trip." Peter smiled sheepishly, reverting to his normal voice.

"You know you can't show it to anyone."

"Y-Yeah…" He hesitated for a split second. Nadia would love to see this when he got back. "I know."

"Then why are you narrating in that voice?"

"Uhhh, 'cause it's fun." The teen said simply like the answer was obvious.

"Fine." The man said flatly.

"So why they call you "Happy"?"

When the divider hummed shut, Peter stopped recording. The dismissal didn't dampen his spirits though. He was going out of the country for the first time in his life. All the way to Berlin too.

Still hyped, he couldn't help but send a quick text about the truth of his trip to the only person he could tell. His aunt probably told Nadia all about what Mr. Stark said, but his sister figure would definitely know that something was up. Ironman wasn't exactly the kind of person to have time to personally congratulate every person who was lucky enough to get into any Stark-related grants or internships.

His phone buzzed before he could though. When he saw the name on the message, he couldn't help but wonder if clairvoyance was part of Nadia's ability to use magic.

Nadia: So… nice job getting into the Stark internship. May said you're on a way to a retreat?

Nadia: I'm thinking Stark knows then?

Peter: Yeah! Berlin. Can you believe it?! No one's told me exactly why I'm going there though.

Peter: But still… Berlin! On a plane! Gosh I've never ridden a plane!

Nadia chuckled at how Peter's message was punctuated with emojis at the end. She could imagine his voice as he spazzed out at the opportunity.

Peter: Yeah. Mr Stark knows. I was surprised wen he showd me that vid f me on youtube w/ the car nd the bus.

Then her phone gave a string of beeps and several messages popped up one after the other on her screen.

Peter: Can u believe Ironman chose me?

Peter: Ironman!

Peter: mAbe that means I get 2 b an avenger!

Peter: 8'll b awezm 2 mEt Thor. Hez sppsd 2 b d god f thunder!

She smiled at how the messages deteriorated more into text speak. Peter always spelled out his words. He must have been really excited.

Peter: Oh yeah, I think me going 2 Berlin has something 2 do w/ Cap America going crazy

Peter: I'm not sure.

Peter: We're arriving at the airstrip. Happy might get mad f he sees me texting. Promise I'll send u a message once we get 2 Berlin.

He seemed to have mellowed out a bit in the last messages.

Nadia: Okay Spiderboy. Enjoy your trip. If you really are going up against Cap, be careful. He may be a grandpa, but he's a super-soldier.

Nadia paused before she sent one more message.

Nadia: Get me a souvenir if you can. :)

"So he texted you."

The young woman wasn't surprised to see the man standing in her living room. She did see the sports car parked in front of her apartment building.

"Yup." She answered simply, popping the "p". She continued on to her kitchen, putting a hand on Stevie's head and giving his ears a scratch to calm him. The canine had been standing tense at the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, growling at the billionaire. "Coffee?"

"Judging from your lack of a real reaction, I think the little Spiderling already told you about me."

Nadia shrugged and brought two mugs of coffee to the living room, setting them on the table. Stevie followed close behind.

"The moment you left his apartment." She took a seat in the armchair beside her couch, watching the man look at the pictures she had on her wall, “His aunt told me about the retreat.”

Stevie lay down protectively by Nadia's feet and gave Stark another warning growl. The billionaire just threw the dog an uncaring glance.

"He really trusts you. Sees you as a sister even." He picked up a particular frame and angled his body away from her. Tony thought he was being subtle, but Nadia saw the glint of his high tech phone when he pointed it at the picture and scanned it.

"I guess. I see him as a little brother, plus he's attached to me because we both share a secret." She looked pointedly at Stark with her next statement. "But, you know my secret too."

"You can say that, Sabrina." He turned around, holding up the picture. It was one of her as a child, with a woman in her twenties who had ash brown hair and blue eyes. His phone pinged and he glanced at the screen, raising an eyebrow before he looked back at the young woman sipping coffee.

"Anya Capelli… She's your mother?" Tony asked. "You look like her, except for the hazel eyes and dark hair."

Nadia gave a nod, not really minding the nickname. "I always thought that was a side effect of the magic." She shrugged. "On the other hand, I think I have the same eye shape as my father."

Tony gave her an unreadable look. The billionaire and the young woman both raised a single eyebrow at each other.

"Well then…" He clapped his hands together. Nadia could see the tension in his shoulders. Funny, from what she knew about Tony Stark, he wasn't one to get awkward. But then… this was a unique situation.

"You look like you're doing alright. Cute dog and nice apartment, by the way." He gestured around. "Cozy place. A little small though..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "I just came by to tell you myself that I'll be taking Underoos on a little trip. Don't want you doing voodoo on me or whatever if you jump to conclusions about the kid suddenly leaving." He wiggled his fingers.

"Just promise to watch him, Stark." She sighed. "You'll know just what "voodoo" I can pull if he gets hurt on your mission," Nadia said almost threateningly.

"Of course I will." Tony rolled his eyes. The young woman just gave him a pointed look.

"I'll make sure he eats his vegetables." He said flatly.

"Good."

There was another moment of silence before Tony turned and made for the door. "Now, that that's set, I better get going. Gotta go after Capsicle and his boy band after all."

Before the door shut closed behind him, Nadia called out from the living room.

"Be careful out there!"

The young woman stared at the door. Stark was leaving now. His original departure might have been delayed a bit because of her and the man waiting for her to get back to her apartment. Leaning back on her couch, Stevie jumped up on her lap and she couldn't help but indulge him with a good scratch behind the ears. She closed her eyes, deep in thought.

Berlin….

The airport fight was probably going to happen by tomorrow once Peter arrived and got his new suit. After that fight, Nadia wasn't sure just when she would get the chance to see Steve Rogers again. She'd been in New York with her mother during the Chitauri attack years ago, subtly lending a hand and keeping civilians safe. She'd only caught glimpses of the Captain in action then, though hadn't really met him.

Sad… Steve was technically the first hero her grandmother decided she would watch over back in the 1920s. And Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier... There was just no chance once things were set into motion. It would have been nice to get to know both of them personally before they were labeled war criminals and were forced to go into hiding.

---

Tags are open: DM me if you want to be added or removed.

@spiderkittene @livecheerlovedancing @weavulex @bethelnie-blog @tregua-oca @lagunaleonhart-blog @venerican-blog @lenncola-blog

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actualfanfictrash · 6 years ago

Text

Scars (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Warnings: none

Requested

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror from a different angle and sighed sadly at your reflection. As always, this was as good as it was going to get. Before rushing out the door, you grabbed your robes from your bed and put them on, careful to pull the sleeves down far enough to cover the scar on your left arm. You hated that scar. You hated a lot of things about yourself, but that scar was hands down your least favorite feature. Hurriedly you speed-walked to class, praying that you wouldn’t be late again to charms. You managed to rush in just as professor Flitwick began the lesson. The only seat open was next to Draco Malfoy. You didn’t really know him, but you certainly knew OF him. He had quite the reputation among your house and honestly among the whole school. You probably would have rather sat by anyone else, but this is what you get for walking in late. As quietly as possible, you slipped into the seat next to Draco and pulled out your wand. You searched through your bag for your textbook, but couldn’t find it. Dang it. You must’ve left it in the dormitory. “Forgot your book?” Draco asked quietly. You felt your face grow hot with embarrassment. First walking in late, then forgetting your textbook. What was next? “I must have.” You tried to sound nonchalant. “We can share,” he pushed his book toward you and flashed a small smile, “if you want to.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion. This couldn’t be the Draco that everyone talked about. That Draco would have laughed at you, or said something like “running late Y/L/N?” Very loudly just so the whole class would look at you. This Draco seemed... nice. “Thank you.” You said giving a little half smile in return. Flitwick carried on with the lesson, which was just a review of charms you had learned your first and second year, but were now reviewing for the upcoming O.W.L.s (turns out you didn’t even need your textbook.) and eventually turned the time over to you and the rest of the class to practice.

“I don’t know why we need to review these.” Draco said, conjuring a small flame from the tip of his wand, “I’m sure none of us have forgotten the classic flitwick ‘swish and flick’.”

You laughed a little at his Flitwick impression and continued your own review practice, mildly aware of the boy behind you who seemed to be struggling with Incendio.

“Finnigan.” Flitwick said to the boy, “You learned this spell in your first year! Remember your wand movement. And for heaven’s sake, point your wand somewhere else!”

“Incendio!” The boy aggressively shook his wand and a massive flame erupted from it. Immediately, people started screaming and jumped from their seats to avoid the flame.

You jumped up to, but you weren’t quick enough and your sleeve caught fire.

Your eyes widened and you shook your arm, desperate to put out the flames climbing further and further up your arm.

“Your sleeve is on fire!” A girl pointed out.

“I can see that!” you snapped back at her.

Draco scrambled for his wand and pointed it at your robes.

“Aguamenti!”

Water gushed out of the wand and drenched the whole left side of your body.

The flame was out, but now you stood in front of your peers not only late and without a textbook, but now sopping wet, with one sleeve of your robes almost completely disintegrated.

“Uh… sorry about that.” The boy that had started the fire said sheepishly.

“It’s fine.” You said. Anxious for class to be over so you could change.

“Oh my gosh!” The same observant girl from earlier said, “Your arm! Is that from the fire??”

Everyone, including you, looked down at your sleeveless arm. The scar you tried every day so desperately to hide was now in plain sight for everyone to see.

“It can’t have scarred that badly already you dimwit.” Seamus told the girl, his voice laced with annoyance.

Quiet gasps and whispers rumbled through the classroom as they all began to notice your arm. You felt your face growing hotter and hotter and the voices around you mixed together in your ears until it sounded like you were under water. You needed to get out. You pushed past several of your classmates in an effort to get out the door. Once in the hallway you ran. Down staircases, through corridors, and finally out to a secluded courtyard where you let yourself slump against a cool stone wall.

You were so embarrassed. Not only because of scar at this point, but because you had actually run from the classroom. You ran away. You’re so dramatic. Why couldn’t you have just been okay with it? Why couldn’t you have just laughed it off like a normal, secure person would have done? Why did you always hide that stupid scar anyway? Someone was bound to see it eventually. Hiding it for the past four years had just been delaying the inevitable. It was a part of you and you couldn’t get rid of it. You just needed to accept that.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you silently loathed yourself.

“Hey.”

A quiet voice startled you and you looked up to see Draco, standing with his hands in his pockets, bouncing awkwardly on his heels.

“Can I sit?” He gestured to the ground next to you.

You couldn’t believe that this was Draco Malfoy. This boy who everyone was afraid of. Who supposedly hated Gryffindor. Who people said could have been the son of Voldemort himself. Who bragged about his money and his family and his blood status. The boy that cared about nobody and nobody seemed to care for.

And yet, standing in front of you now, he was none of those things. He was Draco malfoy. The boy who smiled at you when you walked in late. Who shared his textbook with you when you forgot yours, who put out the fire that had nearly engulfed you, who had followed you out of the classroom after your ridiculous exit and was now asking to sit next to you on the cold and uncomfortable ground.

“Sure.” You said softly, avoiding eye contact.

For a moment the two of you just sat there silently staring at the opposing stone wall. You weren’t about to be the first one to speak up, especially given the fact that you were still crying and probably couldn’t speak if you wanted to. Luckily, Draco finally gave into the silence and said something.

“So,” He started awkwardly, “Cool scar.”

Of course that would be the first thing he mentioned. He said “cool” almost like he meant it. But you knew he couldn’t. It was horrible. It made your arm look like a carcass and you knew it.

“Look. You don’t have to lie to me.” You mumbled, “I know it’s terrible.”

“What?” Draco asked, sounding genuinely surprised, “It’s not terrible! I really think it’s cool.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” You said, “ I just don’t believe you. That’s all.”

“Will you just take a compliment?” Draco raised his voice slightly, “I think it’s cool. That’s all. If you don’t believe me that’s your problem.”

You weren’t sure how to react to his little outburst, so instead you just didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.” Draco said softly, “I just think it’s kind of dumb that you hide it.”

You still stayed silent. You knew it was dumb to hide it. But you weren’t going to stop.

“I mean, it’s fine that you do,” Draco continued, “But is it really that big of a deal if people see it? Maybe you hate it. Maybe it’s your least favorite part of yourself. But that doesn’t matter. That scar is just a scar. It doesn’t define you.”

“And what does define me then?” You finally spoke up.

Draco thought for a minute.

“I guess that’s up to you. You can let that scar define you or you can define yourself based on your fun personality, or your wicked sense of humor. When it comes down to it, you’re the one that gets to decide who you are.” He explained, “People will label you based on a million different things, but if you know who you are, their opinions shouldn’t matter.”

You stayed silent for a minute, thinking about everything Draco had just said. Of course he was right, and it did put a new perspective on your insecurities, but you couldn’t help wondering if he had really been saying all of that to convince you of it, or to convince himself.

“How do you define yourself?” You asked curiously.

Draco looked into your eyes with an unreadable expression for a minute before answering.

“I’m not really sure yet.” He finally decided.

“Me too.” You said softly.

“Well, I guess that’s something we have in common.” Draco flashed a little smile.

“I guess so.” You echoed, mirroring his grin.

“Soo…” Draco started after a minute, “What do you say we don’t go back to class and take a rebellious walk down to Hogsmeade’s for some ice cream instead?”

Your smile widened.

“I’d be okay with that.” You said.

“Good!” Draco stood and put out his hand to help you up, and then gestured to your charred robes, “You may want to change first.”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, “I’m not going to let my ruined robes define me.”

“Oh...” Draco said uncomfortably, “I mean… If that’s what you want…”

You tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but a laugh burst from your lips.

“I’m kidding!” You giggled.

Draco visibly relaxed and playfully hit your arm.

“Geez. I thought you were serious!” He laughed, “I wanted you to take my words to heart, but I didn’t think you’d take them that far. You’re practically wearing rags right now”

“On second thought, I might start a trend.” You pointed out.

“You might.” Draco nodded, “Or you could just change already so we can get going!”

He pushed you forward lightly and you laughed.

“Okay, okay!” You said, “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

You smiled as you practically ran back to your dormitory. You were ready to embrace your scar and you were glad that Draco was around to help you do it.

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #x reader #fluff #hogwarts

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

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703.

1. What previews did you see at the last movie you saw in theaters? >> Oh man, I definitely do not remember now. Wait, I remember Wonder Woman... 1986 or 1988 or whatever it’s going to be called, lol. I remember going, “god, I guess I have to hurry up and watch the first movie now because that looks fun as hell” -- but I guess I don’t have to necessarily hurry after all because its release is probably delayed just like every other movie this year. 2. Have you ever washed your hair with mayonnaise? Don’t think so. I’ve heard that’s good for it, but wet mayo makes me want to gag. I have a hard time rinsing out the jars when they’re done and the mayo just falls out in clumps like rotten milk…ugh. <-- I already thought mayo was gross and then I read this. 3. How many things are you a fan of on Facebook? >> Nothing, I barely use facebook. 4. Do you have more friends on Myspace or Facebook? >> ---

5. What generation iPod do you have? >> ---

6. What celebrities share your birthday? >> I don’t remember who shares my birthday except Rudy Giuliani and I try not to think about that at all.

7. What’s your first and last name spelled backwards? >> You can have my first. It’s Derdrom, and the reason I can type that so quickly is because like 10 other surveys have asked the same question and I’ve memorised the answer as a result. 8. What song is playing at the moment? >> None. 9. Do you clench your teeth when you’re angry? >> I don’t think so. 10. Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? >> No, I’d rather not see a movie with that much demand until at least two weeks after release. I can’t abide a packed theater.

11. Have you ever been to a midnight movie? >> Maybe, back in the day with like Anubis or someone. 12. It’s 2010; are you gonna say oh-ten, twenty ten, or two thousand ten? >> I prefer twenty-ten, and “twenty-” for all subsequent years too. It just flows better. (It does get awkward in the aughts, though -- you can say “twenty-oh-five” but it’s a bit weird -- which is why I didn’t mention those.) 13. How many of your classes change next quarter? Next semester? >> --- 14. Do you believe in the paranormal? >> I am open to experience. 15. How old are the shoes you’re wearing? >> --- 16. What’s your state’s weather usually like this time of year? >> Well, it’s... a bit of a tug of war, I guess you’d say. Winter is trying to hang on, but Spring is gently nudging its way in. “I’m going to succeed you whether you like it or not, so you might as well start getting used to it, Mister Winter, you old windbag.” 17. Do you get those leg cramps in the middle of the night? >> I used to get those a lot, but I haven’t gotten one in a while. 18. What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? >> I haven’t had that experience. 19. Do you have a Twitter account? >> Nope. 20. Did Obama deserve the Nobel Peace Prize he was awarded? >> Damn, I’d completely forgotten that happened. I definitely don’t have an opinion about whether he deserved it or not. 21. Is your cell phone a qwerty (full keyboard) or no? >> Heh. 22. What was the last website you logged onto (besides the one you’re on)? >> Uh... hmm. Facebook, maybe. 23. What’s your home page? >> It’s just the generic Firefox homepage, with the “most used” links and the Pocket articles.

24. Put a line from the song you’re listening to right now: >> I’m not listening to a song.

25. Music artists you listen to: Are they a little or a lot older than you? >> It varies, of course. 26. What always has to be in the refrigerator? >> Uh, I don’t know. The usual stuff we eat. 27. What was your favorite movie of 2009? >> District 9 came out in 2009, so I’ll just go with that. 28. What do you want for Christmas? >> I have no idea, Christmas is so far away. 29. If you could go to three places in the world right now: >> *shrug* 30. How many days until your birthday? >> 64. 31. Who are you crushing on right now? (Famous or not, it’s your call.) >> *shrug* 32. Do you squish bugs or put them in a glass and let them outside? >> I put them outside, if possible. 33. Do you have split ends? >> No. I barely have ends.

34. Isn’t it ridiculous that movie theaters sell hot dogs and nachos? >> No? Hell, with as long as movies are these days, people should have something filling to eat. Will always hate how much concessions cost, though, but I just sneak food in and that solves that problem. 35. What school subject do you absolutely fail at? >> --- 36. When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? >> On my general-use laptop, I use the trackpad. On my gaming laptop, I use a mouse. 37. When’s the next day(s) off you’ll get at school? >> --- 38. If you’re learning a language, what year are you in? >> --- 39. Do you think you’re done growing or will you grow a couple more inches? >> I’m reasonably sure I’m done growing. Height-wise, anyway. 40. What’s your mom’s mom’s name? >> --- 41. Do you replace “and” with an ampersand (&)? >> Sometimes. 42. What do you usually get at school for lunch? >> --- 43. Have you ever encountered a creepy neighbor? >> Not to my recollection, no. 44. How many texts can your phone’s inbox hold before it’s too full? >> --- 45. Do you like the foam soap or the liquidy soap? >> I guess I just like whatever does the job. I assume both of them do, so either is fine. 46. Do you like the automatic sinks or the ones with hot and cold handles? >> I prefer handles because they’re far more reliable (and you can adjust temperature), but I understand why the automatic ones became a thing. It was annoying for a while though because the sensors always seemed to have problems with dark skin... 47. What day did/does your birthday fall on this year? >> Thursday. Just like when I was born. 48. Do you tend to lean towards bright colors or more subtle colors? >> I like both. It just depends on the situation. 49. Do you use British spelling even though you’re not British? >> It’s not even British spelling, it’s “everyone-but-America” spelling, and I use it for some things. I just spell things the way that looks prettiest to me personally, because I damn well can. 50. Name the farthest/weirdest/most unique place you’ve ever been: >> I couldn’t say for the other ones, but the farthest place I’ve been from the East Coast (where I’ve lived for most of my life) is Colorado.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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buttsonthebeach · 6 years ago

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The Last Game, Pt. 2

Here is Part Two of my longfic commission for @scharoux! Part One can be found here.

Other fics/commissions in the series:

1. All Things Green and Growing

2. The Same Kind of Scar

3. World Without End (this picks up directly after it)

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots currently open as of 6/12/19)

This kind of commission is not currently open since I want to give Rhaella and Solas the attention they deserve, but I hope to open commissions for longer fics again in the future. I will post about the process in greater detail when I do :)

Pairing: Rhaella Lavellan x Solas

Rating: Teen for vague sexual references; rating will go up in the future.

*************************

There was a night Rhaella and Solas shared in the Emerald Graves, years before, when she was still Inquisitor and he was still her arcane advisor and everything was simpler, somehow, despite the hole in the sky and the Anchor burning away in her palm. Despite the fact that her whole clan lay dead in the forests outside Wycome and Rhaella had only come to the Emerald Graves because she wanted to save everyone from herself, for her failures and faults and her inability to wrap the whole world up in a suit of armor and protect it.

Even all of that was simpler than this - marching towards their best hope of finding Solas, Fen’Harel, and the father of her child.

Rhaella found herself turning her memories of the night she and Solas spent in the Emerald Graves over and over in her mind, like rough cut gems that needed study and polishing before their true nature could be guessed. His understanding of her grief, of her sense that it was all her fault, of the unbearable weight pressing down on her shoulders all day, every day. The way he pulled away from her just as things grew heated, just as it seemed like he might grant her the comfort of his body.

She was a fool not to see all of the signs. She was a fool for longing to feel it again - his weight above her, his lips on her collarbone, the way his breath caught in his throat whenever she held him tighter, tighter, tighter.

“Are you well?” Loranil, her loyal Dalish recruit, the one who had fought so hard to leave his clan on the Exalted Plains behind. He had been promoted since then, thanks to his expert tracking skills. He was the one who’d found them this lead under Leliana’s supervision.

“I am well. Ma serannas.” The truth was that her back was killing her from riding Thistle for so many hours, and so were her swollen feet, and that she was embarrassed and frustrated that she’d had to ask them to stop so she could pee every hour, but he didn’t need to know all of that.

Loranil nodded, a deferential smile on his lips. He’d stuck close by her on their journey to the Emerald Graves. She wondered whose idea that had been - Leliana’s or Cullen’s.

She did not like to think of Cullen after the way they’d had to say good-bye. They’d been in public, and they’d shared a moment where they looked at each other in dismayed realization, thinking of how most couples said good-bye to one another before a long journey, of how most expectant fathers would behave to see their pregnant partner about the leave them. Cullen had handled it better than she had. He had drawn her close, kissed her temple, rested his hand on the swell of her belly. He’d remained there, like it was the only place in the world he wanted to be, his body smelling of sword oil and sweat and the polish he used on his greaves. So different from Solas, from what she really wanted.

“I will wait every day for your safe return,” he said, too softly for anyone else to hear it. Not really part of the ruse, then. Part of the truth.

Rhaella had forced herself to soften into him, to smile up at him. She had looked back once on her way out the castle gates, had waved good-bye to him. It was the least she could do.

How would she react to Solas when she saw him? Even she could not say. She did not think she would find him here. He was too clever for that. Her best hope that this was a particularly brazen cell of his organization, and that she would find information that would lead her to him someday.

She wondered how old their child would be by the time that happened. Because she would find him. There was no other option. She would find him, and then -

She would have to kill him. She didn't know how. He was far more powerful than she was. She could not unsee the stone qunari, the arcane scorch marks made by his most powerful blasts. She’d done all the studying she could to understand the magic, to try and replicate it, and even for all her own power and knowledge, she could not come close.

Would their child be a mage? Would they be as powerful as their father? What would that mean for them? Those were the questions that followed her the way gulls followed ships, no matter how far into the Emerald Graves they went.

As if on cue, said child kicked at her. She could probably have seen the movement if she wasn’t in the special armor Harritt had designed for her. She’d worked with Dagna to incorporate a special enchantment into it, one of her own design, that would provide the most complete protection possible to her baby.

“Be still,” she murmured. Her own mother had told her once that all babies knew the sound of their mother’s voice long before they were born.

She wished she could drop Thistle’s reins and touch her stomach, feel the kicks against the palm of her hand. She had precious few moments to simply enjoy the idea of being a mother, of holding her child, smelling the soft new skin and touching the dear little points of their ears. She had not been overly focused on those moments before - she had not yearned for the weight of an infant in her arms as she came of age - but now that it was her child, she was beginning to understand the feeling.

Of course, on cue, the baby stopped kicking and settled lower, pressing against her bladder again. Rhaella closed her eyes in frustration, not wanting to ask for yet another stop.

“We are here,” said one of the agents who’d journeyed with them, an Orlesian woman named Victoire.

‘Here’ was a crack in the stone near one of the waterfalls. It looked too narrow to allow a grown adult to pass through it, but they knew better than that from their reports. Rhaella tapped into her mana and reached out, lacing fine strands of it into the enchantment around the crack, like a hundred keys into a hundred locks. It took her a moment to get them all properly attuned - the enchantment was rather more similar to rock armor than it was to earth-shaping spells, which was interesting - but it soon worked, and the illusion dissipated, revealing a rough-hewn passage into the cliff. The baby bounced back to activity at the use of her magic, something she’d noticed in the past.

“We proceed single file,” Rhaella said. “I will stay in the lead so I can better assess the possibility of magical traps. On second thought - Adeline will walk beside me to assess for more traditional traps. Loranil, I want you to stand guard outside with our mounts.”

Quiet murmurs and nods of assent passed through their small group. Besides Loranil, Adeline, and Victoire, there was only one other: Raphael, an old grey-bearded warrior who’d fought in the armies of Redcliffe against the Blight ten years before. Adeline and Victoire were from the same alienage in Montsimmard, clever and hard as anyone who had grown up in such circumstances would be. Looking back at them as she dismounted with Loranil’s assistance, Rhaella was again amazed at the diversity the Inquisition had forged. She really was getting emotional the further she went in her pregnancy.

She did not look back once she was in the tunnel. She was too focused on all that was before her. The stone walls of the tunnel were damp and dark-colored, with only a few outcroppings of deep mushroom glowing blue to light their way. Rhaella summoned veilfire to add more light, and to check for the presence of potential glyphs. Adeline prowled quietly beside her, eyes darting from floor to ceiling to walls and back again. Twenty feet into the tunnel, their careful attention paid off when a glyph glittered to life, iridescent green-blue. Adeline checked the area surrounding it for traditional traps, found none, and Rhaella approached, reaching out to the glyph with her hand and her magic alike.

The old magic sent whispers into her mind - the idea of a spiral curving ever left, left, left, the idea of heading down lower. It was more like the books in the Vir’Dirthara than it was like the other glyphs she’d found around Thedas, which gave her direct instructions on how to create various runes. When she disconnected from it, she was left with a general feeling, a taste in the back of her throat - deep, cool well water.

“Directions, I think,” she murmured. “Let’s go on.”

There were other glyphs like it on the tunnel, which seemed to be carved more or less straight back through the rock and earth. Rhaella detected low arcane signatures off of most of it. It had probably been carved with magic. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, thinking of what she had seen Solas do in the Crossroads. Had all of this been his work - the glyphs and the tunnel alike? All the glyphs seemed to give the same general impression of keep going and right track and all repeated the image of a spiral turning left forever.

When they reached the first and only fork in the tunnel, Rhaella hesitated to go left. What if this was the trap?

"Let me go down a ways and check," Adeline murmured.

Rhaella turned to Raphael, and indicated that he should go with her. It was only when the warrior's bulk was gone that she saw Loranil, and not Victoire, was bringing up the rear.

She blinked rapidly, startled, her heart speeding up.

"Ir abelas. Victoire changed her mind at the last instant. She does not do well in enclosed spaces. We did not want to delay our exploration or draw attention by calling out to you."

Rhaella nodded once, turning towards the right hand tunnel and casting out her aura, sensing for any magic that might be in that direction. Eluvians were not generally subtle. How much further would they have to go, and how had Solas gotten so many people in and out of so narrow a tunnel -

Her aura was up and her senses were straining and yet Loranil was still there, behind her, hand over her mouth, faster than she could react. His hold was gently but firm and there was a cloth over her mouth and she was woozy, suddenly.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “You will be safe. He means you no harm. He just wants to talk.”

Rhaella’s world turned thin and insubstantial before she could get off a spell or scratch or kick her way free, and then it turned dark.

Rhaella woke in a bed, swathed in thick brown furs. She sat up as quickly as she could, heart racing, and felt her belly, pressing here and there until she could feel the baby there. She sent out a small pulse of magic, hoping to wake them. It worked, and she could breathe easier once the fitful kicks started, assuring her that all was well.

She took in her surroundings quickly. The room was more like a gazebo than a room - it was hexagonal, made of red cedar, and where the walls should have been there were only half walls. You could look straight out over them and see that you were high in a massive tree, somewhere in the mountains. The air was cold and smelled of pine and frost. Rhaella got out of bed - she was still wearing her armor, and her staff was propped by the bed, good - and went to one of the railings. She looked north, and then south. These weren’t the Frostbacks. She didn’t recognize a single peak. The Vinmarks, then? The Anderfels? Either way she was far from where she had started. Her team was deep beneath the earth with no idea what had happened.

Loranil.

I am sorry. You will be safe. He means you no harm. He just wants to talk.

Rhaella walked the perimeter of the room, coming at last to a staircase that dropped steeply down to another platform beneath her. As she made her careful way down them, the pieces fell into place. The strangely obvious behavior of the agents near this supposed eluvian. Loranil’s direct involvement in all of it. Solas had warned her, hadn’t he? That any organization was vulnerable? She had disbanded the Inquisition but she had kept some people on. People like Loranil who were honest and good and dedicated to her and to their cause. She had left the door wide open for Solas after all.

She’d already guessed who had done this, and yet it was still a shock to get to the bottom of the staircase and turn to survey the rest of the platform and see him, sitting there, on a sofa looking out over the sea of trees beneath them. His back was to her but she would have known him anywhere. The breadth of his shoulders, the noble carriage of his head, the points of his ears. Solas was sitting there, waiting for her.

Rhaella steeled herself immediately. She looked around the platform quickly. It was similar to the one above, except there was a table and chairs and then the sofa on the other side of the tree trunk, and some kind of cabinets built into the trunk of the tree itself. A living and dining room, where the one above had been a bedroom. She located the next staircase down. Her best means of escape. There were no obvious weapons lying around.

Except he was always the weapon, wasn’t he? The deadliest one in the Dread Wolf’s arsenal was his own hands.

The baby had settled back into sleep now. Rhaella felt a new wave of anger at herself and at Solas sweep over her. She should not have gone into the field. Solas had relied on her stubborn independence to make her vulnerable. She had placed her child in danger. But he - he had done all of this.

“I can’t believe you dared to do this,” she said, voice low and dangerous. There was no need for hello.

Solas stood slowly from the sofa, walked around it towards her, hands clasped formally behind his back. His normally full lips were thinned out with anger. She could not help but notice the way his eyes dropped to her stomach, lingered, and then flicked back up again. And, gods, she could not help but notice all over again how lovely he was, and how tired, the shadows beneath his eyes more pronounced than she had ever seen them.

“I had no other way to assure that we could speak uninterrupted.”

“And the Fade wasn’t good enough? I have never sought to keep you from my dreams, Fen’Harel.” The name felt wrong on her lips but she liked the way it made him flinch.

“I had to see this for myself,” he said, his eyes flicking down and then back up again.

Rhaella’s fury was no longer cold at that moment. It turned white hot. She crossed the distance between them.

“Well? Have you had your fill gawking at me? Do you want to return to planning how best to kill every person on the face of Thedas so that you’ll feel less guilty?”

His rage was apparent now too from the narrowing of his eyes and the broken laugh he let out.

“I thought seeing it would make me believe and understand it, and now here you are, and I still find that I cannot. You truly have allowed this to happen to you.”

“Allowed it to happen?”

There were words on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t allow to spill over. Words that reminded him how she was no passive vessel in this. That she had never once been passive with him, with the love and intimacy they had shared. How he was as much to blame as she was, if blame was going to go around. But she couldn’t say any of that. Not until she knew if he had put the pieces together on his own.

“You are an intelligent woman, Rhaella. How could you fail to prevent such a situation from arising? And with the commander of your forces, no less? It is not only inappropriate in the extreme given the very real power you have over him - it is baffling to me that of all the people you could have, you would choose one who still flinches when you cast the smallest spell. Who we both know said mages weren’t even people a few short years ago. Who still believes in the Chantry and its mission, despite all it has done to our people. You would carry that man’s child?”

Rhaella clenched her jaw and her fist alike before she gritted out her reply. So the ruse had worked. The ruse had worked so well that even Solas’s own agents had carried it back to him, and he had believed it.

“It is none of your business whose child I choose to carry. You left me over and over and over again, Solas. Did I have no right to move on?”

Solas’s jaw was clenched too, his words terse and sharp as gravel.

“Move on? Yes. To someone suitable to who you are. To a man like him? And to bring a child into this world, knowing what you know?”

“You mean knowing that there is a maniac in this world who wants to burn it all down? You mean knowing that you are in the world, Dread Wolf?”

The name had made him flinch the first time and it made him flinch again and Rhaella liked him this way, back on his heels after all the times he’d set her back on hers.

“This is not about me.”

“Really? You kidnapped me and brought me here and it isn’t about you?”

He made a frustrated sound, threw his hands in the air and turned away from her, turned back.

“I only want to understand -”

“Understand what? What understanding do I owe you? From where I am standing, I owe you nothing. Nothing.”

Tears pressed on the backs of Rhaella’s eyes and she was ashamed of them. It was the truth. She owed him nothing. If it was the truth, it should not hurt.

“I want to understand how you could say you loved me, that you would have followed me anywhere, and then turn around and become pregnant with another man’s child barely a month later. Were all your words to me in the Crossroads so empty? Was what we shared that meaningless?”

Now Rhaella was the one set back on her heels - stunned to hear jealousy from Solas, of all people.

“You don’t get to be jealous,” she said finally. “You could have had me. You made your choice.”

“You do not get to dictate what I feel and do not feel. I told you, Rhaella. I told you how impossible this is for me, being faced with the choice of my duty and my love. None of my actions have been done with a callous disregard or without causing my own heart pain. I cannot say the same for what you have done now. Was this the last weapon you had against me?”

The rage flooded back, so quickly that her mana snapped within her, seeking fire. She seethed a moment, trying to master herself, to control her impulses.

“There is truly nothing you can say for yourself, is there? You cannot even admit that what we had meant nothing to you, then?”

She was exhausted and overwhelmed, in an unfamiliar place, and every word he said ratcheted that anger within her higher, higher.

“Stop it.”

“Admit it. Admit that what we had meant nothing, that it was easy for you to throw it away.”

“No. I -”

“Do not deceive either of us any further with false promises of -”

She cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth like a waterfall.

“The child is yours, Solas! Yours. Not Cullen’s. There has never been anyone else!”

The silence that followed was absolute. So absolute you could choke on it, so absolute that it made Rhaella sick to her stomach. She reached down and cupped her belly, wishing she could take the words back, wishing she had not given in to her impulse to prove him wrong, wishing she had listened to every reason she had concocted for why telling Solas was never going to work over the last four months since she learned she was with child. Solas’s mouth had dropped open. His blue eyes were wide. They flickered down to where her hand rested, then back up to her face.

The wind rushed through the airy gazebo, picking up the loose strands of Rhaella’s dark hair where they had fallen out of her braid. It ruffled the fur on the thick wolf pelt Solas had slung over his forest-green tunic.

“Say something,” Rhaella said finally.

Solas looked away from her, out over the trees. He cleared his throat. He looked back.

“You are certain?”

“Are you - ? Yes, I am certain which men I have slept with, and I am certain the only one in recent memory, the only one who mattered, is you.”

“The ruse about Cullen was to protect the child.” Solas said the words as a matter of fact. The pieces were dropping to place in his mind as they did when he played chess with Bull.

“Yes. From your enemies.”

Solas closed his eyes, and the pain was written clearly on his face, and part of Rhaella softened at the sight, and part of her wanted to keep screaming at him, to bring all of this back to his plans, the awful things he wanted to do. The other part of her was suddenly so, so tired of it all. Solas cleared his throat once more.

“I need - I would like time to process this. I had not - I truly had not - this was not what I was expecting when I brought you here.”

“Perhaps you should think more carefully before kidnapping people, then. Am I free to go now?” Even as she said the words her chest tightened at the thought. This was her chance - perhaps her last chance - to try and make him see reason.

“Of course. You can descend to the forest floor and ask the guard down there to take you to the eluvian. They will blindfold you and take you back to your people, who are unharmed.”

“So no drugging me this time?”

Solas winced. “That would not have been my preferred method of extraction. Loranil has been disciplined, although he explained that the concoction was extremely weak and guaranteed to cause no harm to you or the child.”

“Fine. I’ll go then.”

She moved away from him, towards the next staircase, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Rhaella.”

And, of course, she turned back at the sound of his voice saying her name, rounding out each syllable, soft and reverent as it had ever been.

“You are right. You owe me nothing. I have no right to ask this and yet I find I must. Would you stay just a little longer? Just until nightfall? I - I want to speak to you again, after I have had time to think about this.”

“‘This’ being our child.”

It was the first time she’d gotten to say the phrase. Our child. She wanted to take it back, to remind herself and him that it was her child, that she fully expected and planned to raise them alone.

“Yes. Our child.” Solas was testing the words out, too. His voice was uneven.

And then, because Rhaella was a fool, she relented, and she stayed.

I am a fool.

The words played over and over again in Solas’s mind, a sharp, angry tattoo like the beating of war drums or a jailer pounding on a prison door. He walked the dirt lanes of the encampment he’d brought Rhaella to in a daze. The agents who knew who he was nodded deferentially to him, and he did his best to acknowledge that. Thankfully, it was only a select few. The majority of the people in the encampment - Dalish elves who had lived in these forest homes for millennia, having never taken up the roaming habits of their cousins - saw him only as another agent of Fen’Harel, and not as Fen’Harel himself. It was how he wanted it. Even Loranil had not known that the man he worked for was the same quiet apostate he had met in the Exalted Plains years before. His anonymity allowed him to wander the encampment, playing and replaying the words in his mind.

I am a fool.

Some wisp of Mythal rose in the back of his brain.

You are not, old friend.

But who was to say that it really was Mythal, that it was not his own mind deceiving him, soothing him into a sense of complacency that he did not deserve?

When he’d woken from uthenera, this Veiled, broken world had seemed simplistic to Solas. Maybe even animalistic. The solution was equally simplistic. To burn it all down and start anew. Now he was finding it grew more and more complex with each passing moment. Now it was a world that Rhaella would welcome his child into.

Solas have never expected to be a father, not even in Elvhenan. Even before things grew dire, he had been too involved in improving his status, currying favor, engaging in intrigue. He’d expected to have forever. He assumed he’d have all the time in the world to decide if he wanted to be a parent, and to find the right person and the right time. Then things grew dire, and then Elvhenan was gone, and the idea dropped completely from his mind.

Even when he was part of Rhaella’s Inquisition, full in the new flush of his love for her, he had not allowed himself to think of the idea. Back then it would have been luxury enough just to lay with her, to indulge in his need for her, for the union and comfort of their bodies. He had restrained himself even from that, until she nearly died in the Vir’Dirthara and he had saved her and brought her to his side. Then he had not been able to resist any longer. It had been so long - so very, very long - since he had any kind of closeness, any kind of touch, and what Rhaella offered she offered wholeheartedly. She offered it with the full knowledge of who he was. What he had done. Each touch of her hands had felt too much like forgiveness for him to say no.

So he had not said no, and he had not paused to consider that they had not used contraception, and it hadn’t been quite so easy for women in Elvhenan to become pregnant in any case, their immortality meaning that they could not afford to have child after child after child who would also be immortal, and he’d forgotten in the heat of the moment that it was not so for modern elven women, and now Rhaella was walking around this encampment too, her belly grown big as the moon, his child within.

His child.

He had to stop and catch his breath. His throat wanted to close at the idea, as if so much terror and joy could not pass through it. His abrupt stop drew one or two stares from the elves around him, but no matter. Nothing mattered other than the rage in Rhaella’s eyes, the truth of her words.

I owe you nothing.

When he’d first heard of the child he’d believed, utterly, that it was Cullen’s. Her people had done a convincing job of spreading that rumor, after all. And Solas had already believed that Rhaella deserved better than him, that she owed him nothing, even before she’d spat the words in his face. But the months had gone on and he had visited her in the Fade every night and saw how her thoughts danced around the idea of a little child, her own little child, the life she might have, and his pain had only built until he could hold it in no longer and he had had no choice but to bring Rhaella here so he could see it for himself.

He started walking again, heading towards the smithy on the forest floor. Of course he’d had a choice. He’d made it. He’d fabricated the activity in the Emerald Graves, gotten word to Loranil, and lured her here. Brought her here nearly by force, even though he wished Loranil had found some way other than that.

I am a fool.

The only thing he’d done that was not quite so foolish was bringing her to this very remote outpost in the Hunterhorn Mountains. This was one of the few Dalish clans that had joined his cause in full, likely because of their long isolation from other clans and other elves. Their beliefs hewed more closely to the beliefs of Elvhenan, and their memories had stretched further back to what the Evanuris had truly done. Conveniently, they had preserved many of the crafting traditions of their ancient kin, and so Solas (through his agents and intermediaries) had tasked them with crafting weapons. They did not know where the weapons went or even fully why they were being made, in some cases. Even as Rhaella wandered through the encampment, she would not be able to gather very much in the way of actionable intelligence.

She is carrying your child and you are still making sure she can’t stop you from destroying the very world your child will be born into.

Solas had reached the smithy by the time the words stopped ringing in his ears. Abelas was there, consulting with the blacksmith. He saw Solas and gave a small, deferential nod of his head. Not enough to give away who Solas was, but enough to acknowledge that Solas carried the last piece of the woman they had both served, that he was the one fighting to bring back the world they’d both grown up in. Abelas had kept his name, in the end, despite Solas’s offer to help him choose a new one.

“There is still sorrow ahead on our path,” he’d said when he made his decision final.

Abelas had been right, of course. Solas stood there watching the forging of a greatsword and thinking of all the death he’d brought into Elvhenan, all the death he would bring into this world, and the one speck of life he’d made, growing now within the woman he loved. He did not deserve that speck of life. She still owed him nothing. He could not be angry with her for trying to keep up the ruse, to deny him the knowledge that the child was his. Not after what he’d done. What he planned to do.

But was it possible? Could he protect Rhaella and their child against all else, and carry out the rest of his plan? Would she even accept such a solution, or would she see it for what it was - selfishness on his part, an attempt to have everything he wanted, everything he did not deserve?

He knew only one thing. He loved her, and he loved their child, the child he had not even felt beneath his palm yet. He needed to tell her that, whatever else happened.

He walked back through the encampment, through the towering trees and the buildings woven in and around them, back towards the one where he’d seen Rhaella earlier that day, and spoke to the guard standing at the base of it.

“She returned not long ago and retired to her room on the highest platform. Should I go up and announce you?”

“That will not be necessary. I will go up myself.”

Time had gotten away from him more quickly than he anticipated. In the time he’d wandered the encampment in a daze and stood observing the forging of the greatsword, then come back to the tree, at least two hours had passed, and it was now nearing nightfall. He’d woken that morning full of rage and pain, knowing that this was the day that Loranil would execute his extraction and bring Rhaella to him, and now Solas found that he was full of simple exhaustion as he climbed the staircases higher and higher until he reached the level where Rhaella had gone.

She was already asleep. She was lying on her side, facing towards him where he stood by the staircase, her mouth parted softly and her chest rising and falling with deep even breaths. She’d taken off the armor she was wearing when they brought her in (Solas had noted the special enchantment designed to enhance barriers around the belly, had been pleased with it, would have suggested the same himself). Now she was in a simple sleeping shift and the line of her belly was softer against the billowy fabric and the furs draped over her body. But it was still there: the most obvious outward sign of their love, the proof that it all happened, that against all odds, they had found one another. Solas wanted to cross the distance, to lay his hand there, to feel the warm firm skin, to feel for the movement of their child within, but he owed Rhaella her space. He retreated to the level below, instead, and sat on the couch where she’d found him before.

He looked out over the Hunterhorn Mountains. They had not existed in Elvhenan’s time, at least not the way they did previously. The earthquakes that wracked Thedas in the wake of the Veil had birthed them. The clan who’d constructed this encampment had sought sanctuary from the chaos and violence that came afterwards here. It was a safe, peaceful place. It was still so removed from the rest of Thedas that he could sit there, watching the gently swaying trees, the arcing paths of the birds looping through the evening sky, the stars pricking through the inky blackness, and he could almost forget all of the ills plaguing the world. The remaining Circles, the spirits so baffled by the division between worlds that they became demons when they crossed over, the elves in slavery and destitution in every corner of the world, the Qun bearing down on all of it. He could almost pretend this was an ordinary night, and that he and Rhaella lived here, and that he would soon go upstairs and curl himself around her sleeping form, and that all would be well.

Night had deepened by the time Rhaella stirred on the platform above. Her steps were heavier now than they had been before, no doubt because of the pregnancy. He was sure she hated that. She was a mage but she’d been a hunter first, and she prided herself on speed and stealth. She was as prideful and as stubborn as he was in so many ways, and he found he loved that in her, and feared it in her too. His pride and stubbornness had brought him pain in the end.

Eventually, the steps headed towards the staircase, and then she was descending towards him. He rose this time to greet her, to watch her as she descended, and she was luminous in the moonlight, the curves of her body lit up through the thin fabric of the shift, her grey eyes bright and shining in the darkness. She’d redone the braid and already he wanted to undo it, to comb his hands through her long dark hair, to kiss the lips that were set in an angry line as she stared at him.

“Were you sit here making sure I didn’t escape?” she asked at once, voice rough with sleep. The tone had its intended effect, cutting at him like a dagger.

“No. I wished to speak to you, but I did not want to disturb your rest. And it is peaceful up here.”

“Somehow I didn’t think you valued peace.”

Solas thought of all the quiet moments they had shared in their time together. All the natural wonders they had found when they were on the road from disaster to disaster, the times they had gathered herbs and roots and flowers and laid them out and examined them. They’d always carved out peace together. He knew she had not forgotten.

“You know that I do.”

She looked away, muttering something he did not catch. She looked back.

“Well. I’m awake. What did you want to say to me?”

Standing there, looking at her, so impossibly beautiful, so strong, so sure of herself, all of the carefully considered words fled from his mind. All of the careful machinations, justifications, and plans dissolved. There was only him, and her, and the child, and the moonlight.

“That I love you. That I love you beyond reason, and it makes me a fool, and an ass, and that it makes me strong, and that it makes me weak. It makes me feel afraid and it makes me feel lost and it makes me feel found. I love you, Rhaella. It is the deepest truth I know.”

He stood frozen, trying to conceal the trembling of his hands, knowing that she would sense his turmoil if she reached out with her magic, because it was vibrating up and down his like a struck bell. It was the deepest truth he know and it unseated all of the other truths and he still wasn’t sure that it was fair - that his love for her, his need for her, could upend everything else. That it would of course extend to their child.

Rhaella walked towards him, and stood on tiptoe, and kissed him hard on the lips, and Solas loosed his turmoil into that kiss muffling his grateful, terrified sob against her mouth, clutching her against him, feeling for the first time the unfamiliar barrier of her belly between them. He kissed her and he let everything else fall away, like the last evening light fleeing the sky.

#beach does commissions #beach writes #rhaella lavellan #solas #solavellan fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #scharoux #you guys know what is nexxxttttttt

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gloomy-goober · 5 years ago

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Dear Remus,

Logan thinks that I should write to you.

Says it might help me ‘cope’. Whatever that means.

I don’t want to cope.

I don’t want to feel.

They say you are gone. That you are dead somewhere better.

I know they want me to believe it. I know how they watch me as I move out of our room and into the kitchen every so often.

They have given up, but I haven’t. As soon as I can I am running back into the imagination and starting up my search.

The dragon witch is working on a tracking spell. It is taking her longer because I need it to be long ranged. Using our pendants, well mine. I hope you will have yours or this plan is going to be a flop.

Just like most of them are.

I don’t know why I am writing all this down. Or how this will help.

I know that I am not actually sending these to you. If I was then I would be writing about how I am going to punch your face in for having me worried for so long. Or I would be going to where you are instead of sitting on your bed writing in this dumb journal.

Still it is nice to write the words down: I miss you.

Our room is too quiet with only me in here staying up till the ass crack of dawn. There is no one there to lecture me, no one there to wrestle me back to bed, no one there to ask me annoying questions at three am.

Although the lack of dirty laundry stink is an improvement. An improvement I did not think I would hate.

I know you are not reading this, but please come home soon.

*********************************************************************************

Dear Remus,

It had been six months since you disappeared.

I think everyone else has given up hope of your return. I know that the others did not like you too much, but I thought they were just as hurt as I was when you were in pain. Maybe I was wrong.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

It has been three months since they blocked me from entering the imagination again. I thought by now they would have admitted that I was rested enough to return to the search.

I tried to go back in through the main door. Patton caught me and asked where I was going.

When I told him my intentions, he told me that is was not a good time. Led me away to help him in the kitchen.

I am not proud to say I ruined dinner out of spite. I was not hungry anyway.

You would have found it hilarious. The fire on the stove was not extreme but it reminded me a lot of that SpongeBob episode. Where he has to forget about everything that was not about fine dining and breathing.

You would have laughed.

We’d probably be up all night laughing about it.

I miss those kinds of nights. We haven’t had them in a long time.

When you get back, we are going to have a movie marathon. All your favorites.

I am getting a little too sentimental. Glad you are never going to read these.

Hope Logan isn’t reading these. They were his idea.

I need to hide my journal better.

*************************************************************************************

Dear Remus,

It has been five months since you’ve been gone.

I guess I should do something worthwhile with these letters or entries or whatever this is. If I do allow you to read them then they might as well tell you what has been going on during your absence.

First, Deceit has been sleeping over sometimes. By sometimes I mean a lot. Hardly ever leaves.

I gave him my bed since I have been spending most of my nights in yours. I washed the sheets first though. You really need to stop eating in bed, I think I found a full cookie under your pillow. That is gross, bro. Gross and terrible that you never offered to share.

Anyway, I don’t mind Deceit spending the night. It is comforting to have another person in the room again. Makes our room feel less empty.

He doesn’t snore like you. He doesn’t wake me up or tell me to go to bed when it gets super late either. Actually it is really hard to get him to wake up. I learned to not listen to his promises of five more minutes after the third day.

Can’t trust a snake no matter how much their pleas for more sleeping time resonate with you. How badly you want to crawl under the covers and sleep the day away, you must resist.

Going along with Deceit sleeping over, it now seems Mr. Lyde is just a part of this family. Patton is less tense around him, though it is still taking some time. Virgil is not openly trying to fight him.

It is weird. I wish you could see this. Maybe you could figure out why the shift because I am at a loss.

Speaking of Virgil, he is my second point.

Virgil has been spending the evenings in our room. Just sits on your bed or my bed. Deceit, him, and I usually just do our own things quietly. Sometimes we watch a movie together.

I like the change, but I am also confused by it

Maybe they just don’t trust me to not run off to look for you once more.

They only delay the inevitable. I do not see what could go so poorly with speeding up your return.

Well, that is all I can think of. Going to draw a dick on Deceit’s head while he sleeps in honor of you.

**************************************************************************************

Dear Remus,

Eight months since you disappeared.

Patton has suggested that I make my own room. It was not an unkind or ill meaning, but I still got defensive. I should not have yelled at him.

Or ran off instead of apologizing.

I’ll summon a puppy tonight. Make sure he knows I did not mean to explode like that.

I can’t say that having my own room would not be interesting. We did try that once in our teen years but that did not last long. Remember? You kept sneaking into my room at night. Really scared me.

Still have no idea how you crawled across the ceiling like that.

Thinking about it right now, though, I don’t think I want to know the answer.

More on the bedroom thing, I can’t leave. If I leave this bedroom, then Deceit will lose his roommate.

Oh! Should probably tell you that we have a new roommate. Don’t think you would mind. You always liked Dee. Saw how much of a dork he was behind all the hissing.

You were right, he is funny.

When you get back, I’ll make us our bunk beds again so Dee can keep my bed.

It’ll be fun. Like a sleep over every day.

We can even invite Virgil!

Or we just all live in one room together. Forever a sleepover!

Okay maybe that would not be a fun idea. Or was a very good idea.

I haven’t been sleeping well lately, so my ideas are a little bland. Sorry.

I am going to go apologize to Patton now.

Write to you soon.

************************************************************************************

Remus,

Where are you?

You have been gone almost ten months! A year is about to pass, and you are nowhere.

I expected you to be back by now.

Why do you keep doing this to me, Remus? Why can’t you stay put?

I don’t want you to be gone anymore.

****************************************************************************

Remus,

I went back into the imagination today.

It has been a year since you have been gone. Since I have stepped into that place. I was not supposed to be gone so long, but even after the others stopped trying to make me stay at home, I could not bring myself to go back in there.

The dragon witch was not very happy with me. She had the spell ready for so long and I showed up so late.

I have the pendant back now.

I stood on the cliff face where your old sailor man said he had seen you last. I looked out at the sea.

I wanted to throw it. Throw it out and let the waves take it away. Let this necklace be destroyed in my anger but I didn’t.

I didn’t recite the spell either. Please don’t be mad at me for that but I can’t.

I just can’t.

I know you are alive. I feel that you are alive, but what if…

What if you aren’t?

What if I say this spell and it points to nowhere? What if it is too late to even try it?

I don’t want to think that everyone else’s hopelessness has rubbed off on me but God dammit, Remus, it has been a year.

You should have been back by now.

Why aren’t you back? The only reason you wouldn’t be back is if they are all right.

***************************************************************************************

Remus,

I am in a new room now.

Deceit has his own room next to Virgil now.

Our room is boarded off. I just couldn’t stay in there any longer.

Virgil let me borrow his white noise machine. It fills the silence. Going to have to get myself one.

**********************************************************************************

Remus,

Wherever you are, if you are anywhere, I hope you are happy.

Things have gotten better for me. Not to say things are good that you are gone but that I am coping. Just like Logan was hoping would happen by writing these.

I still expect you to just pop up one day. Though the need to look for you around every corner has started to wane.

Thomas is back to work. His fans understood the need to have a vacation thankfully, but I feel guilty for making them wait so long. I have been focused one some amazing works for them, putting all my effort into them.

I do hope they like these new videos.

That is all I hope for, really.

Wish I could get your input on them. Most of your ideas don’t really go with the theme but you at least get me out of Disney safe territory.

I don’t know if I am going to continue writing to you. I don’t know if it really matters now. You won’t ever read these and even if you somehow did come back, I would never let you read them.

There is too much honest emotion. It’s gross.

I’d rather give you a letter that says ‘f--- you’ for leaving. Something that wouldn’t be all weird.

But, at the same time, if I stop writing in this letter/journal thing I feel like I am closing the door to you. That once I let these letters go and move on it will all become more real then it feels.

That you really will be gone.

I don’t want you to be gone. I don’t want to be the only creativity.

We both tried to pretend like we were the only true form of Thomas’ creative endeavors but we both knew it was not true. We were once one.

How am I supposed to do this job without literally the other half of my job?

If you are gone does that mean I won that stupid best creativity contest we were holding? Cause this is the worst way to win it.

But if this is the way it happens, then so be it. I will do my best to be the creativity that Thomas needs.

For you. For Thomas. And for myself.

Goodbye.

Your brother, Roman.

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