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earth-ambassador-jim · 3 years ago

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Parent/Mentor Swap AU

The swaps:

Aaarrrgghh – Bular

Blinky – Nomura

Barbara – Strickler

Yeah so this was meant to just be a short explanation but it’s not so please enjoy my 2500ish word backstory for this AU. (Jim will still be the Trollhunter.)

Bular

Shortly before the Battle of Killahead Bridge Bular is talking with his father about their plans for their future kingdom. In the course of the discussion Gunmar reveals that he wants to eliminate all humans and bring about a literal Eternal Night. (Gunmar has talked about the Eternal Night before but Bular assumed it was a metaphor.)

Bular doesn’t like humans per say. He definitely agrees that their numbers need to be reduced. He certainly wants them to be cast down into the dust and subjected to the rule of trollkind…

But he doesn’t want them gone.

The thought has frankly never occurred to him.

Humans are pests but they are tasty and create useful things. The world will be worse off without them.

The second point is even worse. Bular may be rash at times but he is not a fool. Trolls may not survive under the sun but they won’t survive without it either. Bular has traveled far and wide recruiting trolls for Gunmar’s cause. He’s seen what the Northern Lands become during the winter when for a time the sun ceases to rise.

Based of off that he has a fairly good idea of what the surface will become like under the Eternal Night and it is not desirable. There is no point in taking over the surface only to decimate it.

He tries to argue these points but his father will not listen. Eventually shutting the conversation down entirely with a warning snarl.

Bular is left uneasy. He wonders if it is wise for Gunmar to be the ruler anymore. He wonders if there might be more substance to the rumors of his father’s madness then he thought.

As the War comes to a head and the Battle of Killahead Bridge draws near, Bular tries to convince his father to change his mind. He receives only growls, sneers and a couple beat downs for his trouble.

Eventually he decides that other measures must be taken.

He considers starting an uprising but he doesn’t want to kill his father. Eventually he learns of Deya’s plan to banish Gunmar into the Darklands and decides to assist her. He thinks that spending some time in a world without humans or the sun might bring Gunmar to his senses.

Unfortunately Gunmar learns of this.

Bular, not wanting to fight his father, flees. Gunmar can’t leave to pursue his son, so he sends a detachment of soldiers lead by his most trusted general Aaarrrgghh after him.

Centuries later he comes to Arcadia. He is not accepted by the local troll population for a very long time. They don’t believe he’s really changed sides. It also doesn’t help that unlike Cannon!Aaarrrgghh he is not a pacifist. (He has sworn off eating humans however.) He eventually wins them over by helping the Kanjigar protect Trollmarket. He’s brought into the market for the first time because his energy drops to dangerously low levels (he’s completely catatonic when Kanjigar finds him) because he hasn’t been near a heartstone for centuries and doesn’t eat humans anymore. (I headcannon that eating humans allows for trolls to live away from a heartstone because humans produce a similar energy but in very small amounts).

Aaarrrgghh

Aaarrrgghh’s origin story is the same as in cannon: he was given to Gunmar by Usurna to be his champion.

In this story he doesn’t switch sides at the battle of Killahead. Seeing the destruction wrought by humans on uninvolved trolls leads him to believe that Gunmar is in the right about wiping them out. When the battle of Kilahead happens, he and his detachment of soldiers become the only Gum Gums outside of the Darklands (or rather the only known Gumm-Gumms) because they were hunting for Bular at the time.

Aaarrrgghh works rather loosely with the changelings as well as doing “recruiting” of more trolls to the Gumm-Gumm cause. (More like threatening into obedience).

Aaarrrgghh comes to Arcadia when he learns of the Trollmarket and Trollhunter’s presence there.

Aaarrrgghh’s presence combined with his small battalion results in more skirmishes with Trollmarket than in cannon. Bular and Draal work with Kanjigar to protect trolls that go out to scavenge against the Gumm-Gumms. The Janus Order has their hands full keeping the constant fighting secret.

Aaarrrgghh generally stays in Barbara’s basement which has a tunnel connecting it to the sewer system. (Disguised with magic so Trollmarket trolls and maintenance workers don’t find it.)

He often leaves the window open and tries to lure cats in for him to eat. This is how he meets Toby.

Toby happens to be looking for one of their missing cats. He finds paw prints leading to the open basement window. He attempts to get in the window but is shoved back by a pole. (Aaarrrgghh has been told repeatedly to not eat the neighbors since this will draw to much scrutiny and they will have to find him a new den if he does.) This distracts him from the cat as he is now more interested in learning about the strange something living in the basement of what he thought was an unoccupied house. He starts asking Aaarrrgghh (who he can’t see) questions about himself and Aaarrrgghh (who isn’t quite sure what to do in this situation) awkwardly responds.

Eventually Toby falls into the habit of visiting Aaarrrgghh’s basement window in the evening and jabbering to him about his day. He brings him little treats and will occasionally ask him questions.

Aaarrrgghh ends up growing fond of him and decides that while he doesn’t like humans in general this one is okay and he starts making plans to keep Toby alive after Gunmar returns.

Blinky (Bartholomew Georgiou)

Blinky is given as a whelp to the Gum-Gumms by his brother Dictacious (who was working as a spy for Gunmar at the time) and made into a changeling. He’s slightly older than Barbara.

Blinky works at the Arcadia museum. He is in the habit of swapping out old, rare books with exact replicas so he can horde the originals in his secret library.

He has an incredible collection of books from many ages and places. He guards them zealously. Entering his library without permission is suicide and generally ends in the offender being blown to pieces by one of Blinky’s booby traps.

He has very few books of Trollish origin and would do just about anything for more.

Nomura

Nomura was stolen by the Gumm-Gumm’s when she was a child but her parents survived the initial raid and several decades later they are able to rescue her. Her time with the Gumm-Gumm’s have left its mark, however, and she no longer fit the other trolls in her clan. Her family eventually moves to Dwoza Trollmarket.

She doesn’t really fit in with the younglings her age there either but she makes friends with the archivist. He eventually takes her on as his apprentice and when he passes she takes over as the Trollmarket librarian. She takes her job very seriously and does not tolerate loss or abuse of books.

She becomes friends with Draal (due to having similar temperaments) and later she becomes the first troll to truly accept Bular in the Arcadia Trollmarket.

Barbara

Barbara is a 700(ish) year old changeling (equivalent of 40-50 human years) and the head of the Janus Order. She’s still a doctor and has the most knowledge of how troll and human bodies work of any one person on the planet. This is partially due to how long she’s been alive but also to the large number of often highly unethical experiments she’s carried out on both species.

Barbara meets James Sturges when she’s working on retrieving a piece of the Killahead Bridge in Maine (officially she’s just a nurse at the hospital named Janet). They hit it off and start dating. Barbara finds his expectations for how she’s supposed to act a little annoying but it suits the role she’s currently playing so she goes along with them.

Then James makes the mistake of breaking one of Barbara’s rules and goes through some of her off-limits stuff, so she kills him and disposes of the body.

She assumes that’s the end of that but about 4 months later when she tries to shift into troll form she can’t. Aside from a curse, there is one thing that will prevent a changeling from shifting back into a troll. A trip to the local pharmacy confirms it: she’s pregnant.

This is certainly a dilemma.

Until she’s done with the pregnancy (one way or another) she’s trapped in her human form.

In the past she would have had an abortion without a second thought, but with Gunmar’s release and the destruction of the human race drawing closer and closer this will probably be her last real opportunity to experience pregnancy. So out of pure scientific curiosity she decides to go through with it.

Quite a few arrangements have to be made but soon she’s on her way to her hidden cabin out in a remote area of Alaska.

The pregnancy and birth go well and soon she is the mother to a little boy. She names him James after his father, figuring that will keep her from getting attached. She plans to keep him for two or three years to observe his growth and see if any changeling traits manifest after which point she’ll drop him off at an orphanage or something. As far as the Janus Order can tell human-changeling unions produce completely human children, but one can never beat first hand observation and experience.

She initially chalks up the warm and mushy feelings she’s getting to hormones. It isn’t until Jim is about two and a half that she’s tucking him into bed one night and Jim gives her a sleepy smile and leans into her hand that she realizes that she really truly loves him.

This was not in the plan.

After Jim is asleep, Barbara calmly goes outside and devotes an hour to cursing. (One of the perks of living centuries is that she’s had ample opportunity to amass an extensive collection of swear words.) After that she feels a lot calmer and more ready to look at the situation in a rational manner.

The fact of the matter is that she genuinely cares about Jim. She’s developed feelings for people in the past but it’s always been something she’s been able to pass off as part of her cover. (She still misses her pirate crew sometimes). Jim however is not. Barbara has a lot of enemies. If Jim’s relationship to Barbara is discovered he will never know peace and if Barbara keeps Jim around it will be discovered.

So it’s with a strangely heavy heart that Barbara realizes that this changes nothing: the best thing for Jim is for her to give him up.

On his third birthday she gives him some tea that will make sure he stays soundly asleep. Barbara can’t go through the legal process of giving up a child because: A. Jim does not exist in any legal manner and B. As changelings are everywhere and Barbara is well known (infamous really) there is a very real possibility that someone would find out. So she leaves him on the doorstep of a foster family she has carefully vetted out as responsible and trustworthy and keeps watch from some hidden cameras until she knows he has been found and is going to be taken care of. With him are a note with his date of birth and first name and a necklace with a pendant carved from Barbara’s own stone (Barbara isn’t very good at magic but she was able to enchant it with a simple protection and luck spell.).

Once she’s satisfied that Jim will be cared for she goes on her way and forces herself to not look back.

Nine years later she moves to Arcadia and three years after that she is very shocked to find a found add describing the Amulet of Daylight of all things. She calls the number but is told that the amulet was already claimed. Further investigation reveals that the amulet has chosen its first human bearer (or so everyone thinks). Barbara feels a bit of a twinge in her heart when she learns that the new Trollhunter is about the same age her son would be and that his name is Jim but doesn’t think too much of it. There are a lot of Jims in the world after all and she left hers in Alaska.

She immediately arranges a very minor “accident” as an excuse to make contact with his father in order to keep an eye on him.

Walter

Walter Strickler is a history teacher at University of Alaska Anchorage. He enjoys his life and his job but there’s one thing lacking: he’s always wanted a child.

He’s had a few relationships over the years but none have ever stuck. He’s also of the opinion that he shouldn’t go into a relationship specifically with the end goal of having a kid.

He weighs his options and decides that he’s financially very stable at the moment. His work hours are consistent and he can afford to cut back a little; especially since his stock investments have been doing well in the recent years. All things considered: he decides he’s in a place that he can be a single parent.

He begins looking into adoption.

Eventually he finds Jim. As Jim has no parents or relations on record, the adoption is relatively simple.

Jim is very shy at first (having spent his life so far out in the woods with only his Mom for company). Eventually he warms up to Walter and then becomes very clingy. Living with only one other person for his early years and then being left behind has left Jim with some attachment issues.

Walter ends up taking him to his classes where he sits in the back and doodles while Walter lectures. He’s a rather quiet kid (most of the time) so this works out well. Walter’s students adopt him as the class mascot.

When Jim is five, right before he’s ready to start Kindergarten, Walter’s mom falls ill. Walter is an only child, so after some debate he ends up moving back to his hometown of Arcadia, California to care for her.

He meets Nancy Domzalski through the chest club and through her Jim meets Toby. The two boys become fast friends.

When Walter’s mother passes away four years later, he decides to stay in Arcadia. Jim is well settled and Walter enjoys his job teaching history at Arcadia High School.

Things are going well.

Then his son finds a strange blue amulet in the canal. It looks fairly expensive so Walter puts a found add up and assumes the owner will give him a call. Then settles down to work on grading papers.

He is definitely not prepared when his son, sitting across the table from him, reads an incantation off the amulet and starts floating.

He is even less prepared when a large stony monster the size of a large grizzly barges into their house.

Bular attempts to explain the situation to the father-son duo but they both faint from terror.

Not quite sure what else to do he wraps them up in a tarp and takes them to Trollmarket. He figures Vendal can sort it out.

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Bular #walter strickler #Barbara Lake #Blinky #blinkous galadrigal #Aaarrrgghh #Nomura #jim lake jr #James Lake Jr #my posts #my writing #my AUs #Parent/Mentor Swap AU #Parent Swap AU #Mentor Swap AU #I need a better name for this #feel free to make suggestions

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 05 (first part)

(Masterpost) (previous episode) (this episode, second part)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes of the Untamed

The Pride of Yunmeng

Waterfall Date

Lan Wangji gets to experience the two extremes of Wei Wuxian’s interpersonal skills within the span of a few seconds. This is even better than his rooftop date with this horrible annoying terribly, terribly attractive boy.

Lan Wangji has come here on a mission to make Wei Wuxian do his homework, which is why he immediately tells him “let’s go to the library” gazes at him silently for several seconds...

...and then lets him adjust his sleeve for him and step allll the way into his personal space.

Unfortunately Wei Wuxian is about to guess a Lan Clan secret, so Lan Wangji ends the conversation by saying “let’s go to the library” grabbing him by his sexy arm muscle and dragging him off. Did he hold his arm all the way to the library? Even if he didn’t, his “I don’t touch other people” later at the lake is clearly horseshit. I don’t touch other people unless they are named Wei Wuxian and our brothers aren’t watching.

(more after the cut!)

Apology in the Library

Wei Wuxian splits his library time between actually doing his homework and trying to make friends with Lan Wangji. And he tries really, really hard, starting by sincerely complimenting LWJ’s calligraphy and offering a pretty okay apology for his prior rooftop antics. Lan Wangji tells him to put his leg down but doesn’t tell him to go sit at his own desk.

Lan Wangji exhibits steely self-control as he resists this look, which would cause anyone else’s robes to spontaneously un-weave themselves into a pile of threads.

When Lan Wangji won’t look at him because he feels his apology was not sincere, Wei Wuxian becomes much more formally apologetic. First he says “sorry” two more times, and he starts prepping Lan Wangji’s ink. This involves grinding an ink stick against an ink stone with water, to make a pool of ink for the calligrapher to dip their brush into.

This is not Wei Wuxian being annoying and messing with stuff on Lan Wangji’s desk, a la Zhou Yunlan (Guardian). This is an act of service; a genuinely helpful thing to do if you know how to do it properly --which all of these young scholars definitely do--and an action that casts Wei Wuxian in the role of a servant or junior.

Then Wei Wuxian offers to kneel down (to offer a major formal apology), while giggling like an adorable dumbass. It's unclear if this is sexual innuendo, just being ridiculously unconcerned about dignity, being slightly into abasing himself for this beautiful person, or all of the above.

After taking a long moment to consider all this, Lan Wangji slowly and deliberately gives Wei Wuxian three seconds of the eye contact he’s been begging for.

Then Lan Wangji spoils the moment by dropping a silence spell on him.

Wen Can I Have Some Fun?

The Wen siblings hang out and talk about their secret villainy and then fret about how much it sucks to have a chronic health condition, which is pretty relatable TBH.

I know life seems boring now but just wait until you’re an itinerant zombie with nails in your head.

Wen Qing is a devoted older sister just like Jiang Yanli, although with less fainting and more scheming.

Good kitty.

Porno in the Library

Now, since this next scene ends with Wei Wuxian being a boundary-crossing jerk, let's start by remembering that Lan Wangji has magically gagged Wei Wuxian against his will three times now, as well as hiding his vulnerable family member behind a ward while lying in wait in order to attack him. So, you know. Teenagers in lust. They are both learning what is and isn't okay.

Lan Wangji steals a long glance at Wei Wuxian while Wei Wuxian is drawing.

Wei Wuxian is putting the finishing touches on a gift for Lan Wangji. The gift is a portrait of Lan Wangji with flowers in his hair. This boy is SMITTEN. I think he knows it, too; he just doesn’t think it’s a big deal yet.

Wei Wuxian, who is good at everything, is really fucking good at drawing.

When Wei Wuxian presents the drawing to Lan Wangji he says “this is my gift for you.” This is very good-mannered of Wei Wuxian; Lan Wangji had to supervise him for three days, so he is presenting him with a gift to thank him and say farewell.

Lan Wangji completely ignores him, which is really breathtaking, next-level rudeness.

Wei Wuxian isn’t bothered by this, however, and just embellishes the picture with an extra flower or something before offering it again. This time Lan Wangji takes in and is very very very pleased with it, as evidenced by his slightly widening his eyes and how carefully he places the drawing on the far side of his desk.

Also he gives Wei Wuxian some prolonged eye contact, and engages in what, for him, is playful banter, calling the gift “extremely boring” when Wei Wuxian prompts him to use more words than usual.

Then Wei Wuxian spoils the moment by pranking him.

Now - let’s look at this erotic-book situation. This is a boundary-crossing prank, yes, but it’s also an invitation to engage in some form of intimacy. For teens who have access to erotic images, looking at them together can be simple naughty fun. Or it can be a way of discovering and bonding over shared sexual identities and interest. Or it can prompt more direct engagement, up to and including having sex with each other.

Lan Wangji’s horrified reaction means that Wei Wuxian has to characterize this as a prank after the fact, but he might very well have intended it as an invitation to get horny together.

Either way, his response to Lan Wangji’s “shameless” comment is bound to make an impression.

Wei Wuxian is from the clan of "be free" and he just doesn't see why this is a big deal. And now he’s told Lan Wangji it doesn’t have to be a big deal. And through him, the producers are breaking the fourth wall and telling every viewer that this doesn’t have to be a big deal and that they shouldn’t feel ashamed.

Threats and rudeness and book destruction ensue, and Lan Wangji is left alone in all kinds of emotional disarray, with a bunch of torn up erotica to tape back together throw away.

Boys on the Rocks

Wei Wuxian brags about his prank to Jiang Cheng and bestie Nie Huaisang, telling them that he got Lan Wangji to cuss at him. He’s going to put a notch on his sword handle for this achievement.

Jiang Cheng is pissed at Wei Wuxian about this, like he’s pissed at him about everything all the time. Possibly he has already started the seedlings of his lifelong jealousy of Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t realize that he’s essentially prepared Wei Wuxian to court Lan Wangji by constantly criticizing, hitting, and threatening him. After a decade of Jiang Cheng’s rough style of brotherhood, Lan Wangji’s elegant and refined hostility rolls off of Wei Wuxian like water off a duck’s back.

Nie Huaisang wants to make sure Wei Wuxian didn't rat him out, but isn't worried about the destroyed book because he has a whole external drive full of porn.

Several Brain Cells Trio

These guys do make some questionable choices together, but actually they are all really bright and effective in complimentary ways.

Jiang Cheng is growing into a strong future leader - authoritarian and dickish, yes, but also decisive and unflinching. Wei Wuxian is observant of things around him, always ready for combat, and thinks deeply and strategically about events. Nie Huaisang is a bottomless font of knowledge, sourced from books and from his own observations.

So when the Wen spy bird shows up, they spot it, drive it away, identify what it is, and understand that it’s a threat and that its presence has political implications.

They are all goofballs at times, but highly gifted ones.

Doo Doo Doo Lookin Out My Back Ward

Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji if he’s found out who was sneaking around his the back ward and Lan Wangji hesitates before reluctantly saying “Wei Ying.”

Ok seriously - nobody calls him Wei Ying. Nobody refers to him in the third person as as Wei Ying. Calling him Wei Gongzi or Wei Wuxian would be totally normal. His own brother calls him Wei Wuxian. And Lan Wangji has only called him Wei Ying to his face when he was angry.

But now--immediately after the erotica debacle in the library--he is Wei Ying when Lan Wangji is speaking of him privately with his brother.

By the way, Lan Wangji's shoulders seem super wide in these robes, don't they? I'm not complaining.

Forgettable Disciple #1

Now we meet apparent nobody Su She, who sucks. He wants to take care of the water ghosts himself.

He is a no-headband disciple which is like - none of the juniors in the later timeframe go without a headband. The guys who got set on fire at the gate had headbands. One of the Lan Rules is “wear a headband.” Is there anyone else who doesn't rate a headband? This is a plot point later when it comes to the ice cave but for now it just seems that he's that one perpetual intern who never gets promoted and never learned embroidery.

Doctor Qing, Medicine Woman

[OP laughed way too hard at her own joke just now.] Wen Qing is helping Jiang Yanli, and Jiang Cheng is super happy to see her. When did he develop this crush? Because it's already in full swing.

Did Wei Wuxian just sneer when he noticed Jiang Cheng’s crush? Like macking on Lan Wangji is more appropriate than this?

I love you and I’m going to advocate killing everyone who matters to you

I’m a nosy jerk and I’m going to be your best friend for life, quite literally

Wei Wuxian complains about Wen Qing ignoring him and she gives him the prettiest, loveliest *sigh* death glare ever.

However when she sees that he's a little brother whose sister utterly dotes on him, she starts thinking maybe he's all right.

For the Yanli-Qing shippers, there is a tiny breadcrumb here, where Yanli says they met by the river bank. I don't personally ship my personal girlfriend Wen Qing with Jiang Yanli, but I support your ships wherever they may sail.

Continued in Part 2, right here

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed memes #wangxian #the untamed stills #the untamed spoilers #restless rewatch #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen qing #jiang cheng #nie huaisang

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years ago

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equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location.

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist.

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––” Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face.

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note.

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself.

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body.

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules.

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edbella #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella fanfic

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braindeacl · 3 years ago

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Splinter | Solomon & Eilidh

SETTING: The woods. TIMING: Current, early morning. PARTIES: @shroomsbysolomon & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh means to put an end to Solomon’s trail of death, permanently, but ideologies get in the way. WARNINGS: Drug use

Anger had driven him from his home. Rage had fueled the destruction he’d left in his wake all those miles from here. But it was fear that brought him back; heavy in his gait and thick in his throat. It was fear that coaxed him toward the coast, that sent sharp aches through his body and violent shivers up his spine. He’d been gone too long. What might have happened in his absence? No, no, he couldn’t rationalize it that way, he—

How was he to reconcile this?

It had taken several centuries to forget the first time, and he wasn’t sure how many more centuries he had to spare.

Lumbering through familiar forests, a sense of calm began to worm its way into his anxious mind. Perhaps he had strayed too far—this was his home, after all. His roots were here, in more ways than one. His thoughts drifted to soft lips, the snarling curl of a scar amidst a warm smile… sunlight streaming in through the window, all golden and peaceful. For a moment, blissful memory overtook the hate that had inspired his trip out west, cleansing his conscience of all the horrible things he’d done to those people—

As with all things, it was not meant to last. A sound snapped Solomon from his reverie, golden eyes darting to his left, where they fell upon a most peculiar figure in the distance. A beat of silence passed between them: the human-shaped silhouette, half hidden by foliage, stood small before the towering fae, all bark and thorns and lichen and antlers.

An uncharacteristic vocalization bloomed in the leshy’s throat, deep and growling. He recognized this one. He’d seen them out in his woods before, coming upon the bodies of the unfortunate souls he’d turned into hedge hounds… as well as the ones that the vines had refused to make hosts out of. Even after the first failed attempt, Solomon had persisted, not having any better explanation for his own existence and hoping that perhaps one would work out.

“What do you want?” he snarled, his ancient, unnatural voice pouring forth from the skull that adorned his head.

It started as an attempt to find answers. Searching for potential leads on the gateways that kept sprouting about White Crest. But the trail led nowhere. Might as well have fun heading back. Eilidh took to the forests, exploring what they had to offer. When Eilidh came upon the first body, she was a mixture of disturbed and intrigued. Just as the corpse was a mixture of flesh and plant. It had been hard to distinguish at first, the protruding vines blending in with the surrounding vegetation. But something felt off. On closer inspection, she noted the way the vines curled and twisted into a familiar shape. A human shape. Unlike most of the hedges she’d see in town, which were forced into poses by the cut of a blade, what lay before lacked any sort of obvious manipulation. This was simply how it grew to be. Out in the middle of the woods. Interesting. Further inspection confirmed a suspicion. Someone had been snipped of their true form, forced by powerful magic into this construction. Part of her wondered if this had been the fate of all the hedges she had seen moving about town. But unlike those, this was still. More plant than creature. Is this how all the hedges will end? One side winning out?

What started as a fascinating oddity became a repeated occurrence. Again and again. Sometimes it was like the forest floor was made of those bodies, for they looked one and the same. In perfect tandem. The harmony was almost beautiful. But the amount was becoming concerning. Whoever was the cause clearly had no plans on slowing down. How long until the forest was only corpses? She began to take the inspection seriously. Time was taken to observe the area, face obscured so she may not be observed as well. A plan began to formulate. She suspected fae, perhaps a nymph. An angry one. Her iron dagger was close at hand.

Over time, she noticed a pattern. Realization brought forth a path in her mind; a path that hopefully led her to the source. Following that trail of death, it brought her to the being before her. Massive in form. Something powerful. Maybe even ancient. She had seen such a sight before, lingering near the bodies, but for her was from a safe distance. Only a vague idea of what she would face. That luxury was lost as the being placed their sights on her, and she was able to fully behold what she had gotten herself into. Her hand immediately went to grab at the syringe of Bliss nestled near her chest. No more close calls, it was time to do this right. James was saying something, probably an attempt to stop her. She couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear. Fuck the consequences. Temptation gnawed at her hands and throat as she gripped the needle. The cravings willed it.

She stabbed it into her neck.

Only enough for one hit remained. Her lucky charm. Pressing down, the contents filled her, worming its way through her body. Too soon to fully take over, she waited. Staring. Something sent a shiver down her spine as she fully studied her target. Ancient knowledge banged in her head, wanting to be realized. Details previously lost came into focus: head replaced with skull, towering like a tree, horns outstretched like branches. Horns like branches. Horns. Familiarity caused her to gasp. This didn’t seem right; part of her was skeptical. But before that side could win, the other part willed her to proclaim, voice in awe, “Adharcach aon… Carson a tha thu…”

Staring the stranger down, Solomon could tell by the tone of her voice that she was overwhelmed by his appearance—not an uncommon reaction, truth be told, but something was different about it, this time. Something that reminded him of the way the humans used to react to seeing him many hundreds of years ago… shortly before they would begin to treat him like one of their gods.

He didn’t know the language that she spoke, but it sounded old, like the one he’d been taught growing up. Taking a step toward her, the leshy growled out a warning, though it was in the tongue of long-dead vikings. “Get out of my forest,” he commanded, “and do not return.” Not caring if she understood the language, he took another threatening step toward her. His long digits splayed out in a way that made them seem ready to attack, antlers angling down toward her.

“You are not welcome here,” he added in English, just for good measure.

Eilidh’s thoughts were still swimming in a pool of questions. Why had The Horned One taken on this form? Should she offer him something? Was this even real? An illusion? Did she get hit with something again and was seeing things? The being that stood before her was exactly as she had imagined him all these years, these centuries. The Horned God. She’d never thought she’d see him like this. Usually he could only be felt—in the leaves, the bark, the grass below—his presence permeating everywhere, everything. Her body was electrified at the sight.

She did not understand him. And he did not seem to understand her, which casted a heavy shadow of doubt above them all. But the way he spoke brought upon a memory she had thought was long lost. Momentarily transported back centuries ago, she recalled a man. A vampire. His voice carried the same rhythm, the same flow and pitch. The same forgotten song. Even then, in the encounter so long ago, it was understood what he spoke was old and long gone. How much older it has grown since. Whoever stood before her was very ancient, or was very good at pretending to be.

His image, who he appeared to be, was still causing confliction, contradictions, in her mind. Awe? Confusion? Anger? She wasn’t even sure whether to move, leave, or remain frozen. But in her pause, the drug was able to finally make its nest. It stole all those questions. Quieted her mind for a moment. Until the anger, no longer having competitors, was able to move to the forefront. Her body felt electrified for a different reason. Power.

Glamour activated, it was like her form suddenly struggled to retain its shape. It shifted and lurched this way and that. Fighting to be free from this humanoid container. Nothing about her looked the same for long. “ToUGh shIt.” Even her voice fought against her. “I’vE seeN wHat you’VE doNe, FUcker.” Her iron dagger was drawn, preparing for an attack. Fast clicking emanated from her. Teeth chattering. Too fast to be human. Then she was on the move. Not directly at the other being, but in the general vicinity. Here, then there, back again. Maneuvering through the trees as if she had ran through the area many times.

That spark of anger ignited, and it was fueled by something Solomon did not fully comprehend. There was a voice in his head that demanded sacrifice, that demanded he protect it, no matter the cost. He was compelled by something unseen, a phantom that haunted him—draped over him like a blanket made of shadow. It was warm, though, that wispy embrace… inviting. Solomon was beginning to lose himself in it. The heat bloomed and rose in his chest, the flame licked higher and burned brighter until it was white-hot, blinding him to reality.

All he knew was that he had to defend.

Golden orbs tucked away in black pits struggled to keep up with the rapid, erratic movements of his enemy, his large head jerking this way and that as he took a wary step back.

“I did what had to be done!” he bellowed, heart racing as she drew near. With a furious stomp, the leshy dug his trunk-like feet into the earth as roots erupted from them, racing through the soil in all directions, trying to create a protective circle around him. They lashed out of the ground wherever the stranger flicked into existence, reaching with the intent to strangle, but never quite quick enough. The glint of metal in his attacker’s hand sent a shiver of fear up his spine: he might have had very little understanding of what he was, but as a fae, he had discovered at a young age that iron was something he did not want to be injured with.

“This does not concern you!” the leshy tried again, focusing his attempts to get a handle on her to hold her still.

As Eilidh’s feet struck down, the ground below awoke. Roots shot out, cracking the soil, like nightcrawlers returning from a winter’s nap—wriggling, writhing, grasping—with only one goal. Stop her. But they only touched her shadow. Their attempts grew more powerful, more desperate, the closer she came to where the being stood, hidden behind a barricade. Coward. The sight alone would’ve culled any lingering wonder as to who the being was. This was no god. This could be killed.

This could be a meal.

Her teeth snapped in anticipation. Hard click of canines that wanted to bury into the other’s head. The thought was distracting enough to allow a root to knock on her heel. Almost enough to lose balance. Almost. Onward it went, the eternal game of cat and mouse—but who was which? In the repetition of actions, her mind wandered to the previous words. What had to be done. When humans uttered that phrase, a weak attempt at justification, it made her want to rip their throats. And they ironically would want to do the same to those who simply did what had to be done in order to survive, gore and all. Was the latter true in this case? Ever the curious soul, even with a tampered mind, she barked out. “FeEl FRee to eXplAIn yoUrseLf bEforeee I eAT yOu.” The chase continued, continued, continued; her energy seemingly never ending, the roots seemingly ever growing. Her patience, however, had a limit. Erratic feet found a singular goal, and she grew closer. When the roots became frantic, instead of retreating, allowing the stalemate to carry on, she pressed onward. Switching to the defense, her blade was in motion, aiming a slash at any root that dared to come near.

That rage was returning as Solomon failed again and again to catch her, to stop her—it was burning white hot in his skull, bleeding out to his chest and stomach, smothering him. He felt something catch, but just as quickly as it had made contact, it was gone. The leshy let out an infuriated wail that made the branches of the trees around them shiver in response, and doubled down on his efforts. Only now… now something was hurting him. Cutting into his roots, burning like the anger that was making him lightheaded.

Fear escalated to panic, threatening to overtake him until finally—there! Got her.

“The humans,” he moaned, the root that had managed to catch his attacker’s foot snaking around her ankle and working up her leg, “they hurt us. They come into my woods and cut them down—” The barrier fell away as Solomon emerged to face whoever this person was, his lithe body trembling with emotion. “—they kill the creatures I call my family, they burn our home to the ground!” One root had become many, each grasping at her and trying to hold her in place, recoiling in pain with each slash of her weapon. And yet Solomon still lamented, the anguish laced in his tone only fueled by her attempts to break free. “I must take back what they have claimed, I must show them—listen!—I must show them that they are not the center of all creation! Can you not understand that?”

Eilidh continued to slash—the resulting wails only fueling her frenzy. But it was her against an army; she could only hold them off for so long. The distinction between ground and root was lost. All below writhed: reaching, reaching, reaching. She would not back down. Until something forced her to. Attention could only be divided so many ways; a hand can only be in so many places. One of the roots darted out from such a place. Ensnared its prey. To the ground, she fell.

Is he… monologuing? She did technically ask for this. Nevertheless, she preoccupied herself with repeatedly stabbing the root snaked around her leg. More quickly followed. One replaced the battered root that had been encircling her shin. Others gripped her attacking arms, trying to slow her movements into less offensive blows. She bit into the barked flesh, ripping off pieces with her canines. Their hold diminished until her hand was free to send another flurry of stab, stab, stab, stab. Discarded bark littered the forest floor, revealing wooden innards. Weakened by her ambush, or discouraged by her hostility, the roots peeled away by the will of her hands. Freedom at last. She rolled, and when feet struck ground, she returned to a sprint. Intent on continuing the chase, waiting for the next opportunity to arise.

But with her predicament solved, his words started worming into her brain. Just as the roots had done to her body. Encircling. Ensnaring. Contorting her to a new position, a new viewpoint. What he said struck a chord with her. It did make sense. If Bliss had been stripped from within, she might have even felt sympathy. Or she might have discarded his words as bullshit. She wasn’t sure. The drug wiggled its way through her mind all the same, dancing with his words. James saw the look on her face; tried to remind her about something. Something she couldn’t bring herself to care about now. “Ya gOt A poINt.” She readily admitted, musing out loud. Sprint turned into a brisk jog as her legs lost some of their fire. “So tHOse bODiees ouT thErE. THat’s tHeem?”

Seeing her break free, Solomon fell into retreat. She was by far the toughest thing he’d encountered in quite some time, and he had apparently grown weak with such easy domination of his foes. Roots slithered back toward him, reforming into his body as he took a few steps back, waiting to see if she would come running at him again.

She did, and he continued to move back, lashing out again and again with the extensions of himself, paralytic thorns whizzing through the air as he tried to put her down a second time.

It wasn’t until he noticed the change in her body language and how her pace had slowed that he too allowed a moment of respite, grasping at a tree trunk as he passed it by, worn down from the constant effort of defending himself.

“Some of them,” he answered with a growl, pushing off of the tree to keep moving away from her, though it was certainly less energetic at this point. “Others are retaliation… for the centuries of destruction.” The wounds she had left him with were sapping his strength, and after a few more steps, the leshy dropped to one knee and leaned forward, a shudder running down his spine. “Please,” he groaned, “please, don’t… I have to care for this place.”

The tides were turning in Eilidh’s favor, and the cravings enjoyed that very much. Seeing him relent under the weight of his injuries, his actions. The excitement tingled down her arm, her fingers, shaking against the handle of her blade. But she did have standards. It seemed his soul was not as ripe for the picking as she hoped. Virtue could be found in his actions, at least from her type of sensibilities. Disappointing. She had been so close to finishing. He was practically on his knees, waiting to be eaten! She could still continue, just for sustenance instead of satisfying that side of her nature. But as he brought up the need to protect, to provide for the surrounding habitat, Eilidh remembered his own nature. Killing him would remove this forest its guardian.

She looked to James, her source of moral direction when in this state. He was cautiously eyeing the being, anger clear on his face, but the wink of sympathy in his eyes betrayed him. She recognized it easily, an expression he wore frequently. Always such a gentle soul. But his fleeting moment of empathy sealed the being’s fate. If Eilidh had watched longer, the two would have locked eyes. He would have motioned for her to carry on, frustration and anger and sadness at the other’s cruelty urging his damning hands. He would have sentenced his death. But instead, Eilidh looked away. Considered his importance to the flow of this environment. Considered further still the unreadiness of his soul. Perhaps in another time, another place, it would become much riper. Richer. Delicious.

“KeEP tHaat shIt ConTained to thOSe wHo HUrt tHiis PLace, or I’lL fiiiND yoU AGain.” Though some of her wished he would go against her words. Ripen his soul. Give her something to truly feast on. With that she started to leave. Footfalls as silent as James’ protest might as well have been, falling on deaf ears.

#splinter #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. solomon h.#glitch tag #drug use tw

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 4 years ago

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WIP INTRO || WRETCHES AND KINGS Writeblr Masterlist

GENRE || Adult Urban Gothic POV || Third person omniscient STATUS || First draft completed, second draft in progress SETTING || Modern day THEMES/FEATURES || Modern mythology, criminal aesthetic, found family, immortality, death, revenge, grief cycle, moral crises, platonic soulmates

SYNOPSIS

An undeniable crime problem plagues the city of Easthold, an affluent city rife with thieves and bandits of all pedigrees. This in and of itself is not all that strange. What’s strange is the incredibly high volume of unsolved crimes, of acts no one has claimed, ones even the Easthold Police Department can’t even begin to find blame for. Even when committed in broad daylight, even when the police arrive on the scene in the middle of a heist, no one manages to catch more than unclear glimpses of the culprits, no bullets hit their marks, and when all is said and done there is somehow never any reliable evidence. No camera ever manages to catch a thing, no trap is ever successful, and never has a single witness managed a coherent report, like somehow none of them ever pay enough attention. Like somehow what they’ve seen can never be put into words.

Throw a stone in Easthold and you’ll hit a crook, from thugs to conmen to masked killers who all call the city home. They all know their place, yet somehow the balance of powers never really makes sense. Like something is missing. Like everyone is fighting to be the second best while the title of top dog remains empty. Not that the reluctance to take charge is all that surprising, considering the way any crew which starts to grow big enough to extend their hold over the city is cut down. Driven out or found murdered, often laying in the remains of what was clearly a vicious shootout, though the killers are never found. Like vigilantes, only not so altruistic; the spoils belonging to the defeated gangs are always taken, only to reappear at the scene of yet another unrelated crime.

There’s something deeply wrong in Easthold. Something strange and unsettling. Like a catastrophic event has knocked the whole city just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. It’s in the way the EPD have cabinet upon cabinet of unsolved crimes that never manage to make their way into reports, years of unacceptably unpunished offences that would bring the might of a federal investigation if only they were disclosed. In the way a startling amount of those offences resemble crimes from days long past.

There are secrets in Easthold. Things no one knows, things everyone knows, and awful, impossible, inescapable reality they’ve all been trapped within. It’s in the way unease builds and dissipates without cresting, citizens never quite recognizing their own discomfort, never fully acknowledging the oddity of acting without reason, of crossing the street or averting their eyes, of taking the long way home simply because that one corner just didn’t feel right. In the way the city is beset by sudden explosions, the way gunfire rattles, the way streets echo with chilling laughter like the ghost of a memory, the phantom chill of a nightmare, the ceaseless loop of those who will not be laid to rest.

MAIN CAST

MARLENE WALCROFT || As the leader, Marlene has always has to present herself as reasonably level-headed, controlled outside the occasional snaps of frightful anger, a little overbearing in her need to dictate every plan maybe, but what criminal kingpin isn’t? What’s odd is the new fear kept behind closed doors, Marlene second guessing her own ideas to a degree that is wholly out of character, running over plans again and again, pulling them apart and looking for flaws, debriefing even after successful missions when everyone else just wants to celebrate, unconsciously pressing her hand to her heart like reassurance that it’s still beating.

SPENCER MCFARLANE || He may be happier in a no-holds-barred fist fight, but nobody could say Spencer isn’t good with a gun, an excellent shot with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. What’s odd is the little burst of panic he gets right after firefights, patting his own chest, checking again and again like he can’t quite believe he wasn’t hit.

HYRENE BRAEDEN || For all her quick temper and flippant attitude, Hyrene can be utterly pedantic about checking and rechecking the timers on bombs, which honestly isn’t an awful trait. What’s odd is the way Hyrene gets angry about it sometimes, storms about the penthouse yanking out every last alarm clock, the way she swears she can still hear something ticking with furious intention, like the last seconds of a countdown.

TERRANCE PHOENIX || Terrance isn’t wracked by guilt, doesn’t regret what he does the way some might; he’s a killer and he owns it, he chose it, and it truly doesn’t bother him. What’s odd is the way he still can’t sleep, can’t close his eyes some nights when the darkness squeezes close and he feels so cold, like the depths of the ocean are pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. As Marlene’s second in command, he feels the responsibility to hold the crew together in the event that the kingpin finally snaps.

KYE || In terms of safety, Kye is as reckless as they come, all slapdash impulses and delighted disregard, chasing amusement at any cost when it’s only their neck on the line. What’s odd is that sometimes Kye walks around with a parachute strapped to their back and no intention of flying that day, utterly overzealous precaution without any real explanation as to why, like some part of them is always terrified they’re going to fall.

CAIM ROBINETT || Caim drives like he made a deal with the devil, like every vehicle is just an extension of his being, inherent ability paired with unmatchable knowledge of ever backroad alley in the city. What’s odd is the nightmarish daydreams he gets sometimes, when he looked back at his latest baby and sees flickers of crunched metal and shattered glass, the phantom scent of spilled gasoline and the unmissable click-swoosh of a catching flame.

ELIAN REED || There’s nothing odd about Elian. Just an unfortunate case of someone who got caught in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Or perhaps something is off. Every moment spent with her savior, the queen with hair like fire, it’s almost as though she’s in the presence of a ghost. They’re all like ghosts, and she can’t quite place a finger on why. She also can’t place a finger on why not just Marlene, but everyone in her inner circle, is so hellbent on making sure she’s never around them for just a moment too long.

EXCERPT

This job. Shit.

Terrance had his own suspicions about how aware the others were of how frequently he snuck off. Hyrene knew. And that didn’t necessarily mean the others did, too, but it left the possibility. That was enough to set his teeth on edge. Marlene asking him to play such a pivotal role in the job only made it worse.

If she knew about what he was doing now, then she was undoubtedly asking him to do it with the belief that he would not be walking away from it.

And for that alone, he would be sure to prove her wrong. How dare she disrespect him like this. Besides, when he died and woke up still in her home, then that would be cause for a great deal of fun.

He hadn’t been prepared for it all to happen so soon, though. He’d expected another few months to prepare to get rid of the threat that was Marlene McFarlane, but in that time she, too, had identified him as a threat, and was making the first move to see him taken off of the playing board.

“Terrance.”

Not a question of his presence. A statement. He heard the clacking of Marlene’s heels on the hardwood floor before she appeared.

Maybe the first punches would be thrown tonight, then.

“Yeah,” he said in answer, dipping his head in Marlene’s direction as she made her approach. She stalked forward with the gait of someone intent of making him into prey. He did not appreciate that.

“I had a question for you,” she said, positioning herself across the island from him. A smart move, if she really knew the extent to which he could harm her. If he tried hard enough, there wasn’t anything in the world that could bring her back.

But she didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Right now all she needed was the reliable second in command that he had dutifully played the role of for many years. The time for surprises would come later. Perhaps sooner than expected, but they could still wait.

“Go ahead,” he said invitingly, even going so far as to open his hands to her. Nonthreatening.

Her pale green eyes fixed on his mask, still settled near the corner of the island. Her eyes tightened. Okay, maybe a little threatening.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

Terrance laughed out loud. “I’ve done a great many things in this life you’ve given me. You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Marlene kept her expression flat. Though emotionless, she somehow appeared angry when she asked, “How did you kill a god?”

Terrance paused in the middle of his drink, suddenly finding that he had to channel all of his focus into making sure he didn’t choke up what he’d already swallowed. Carefully swallowing what was in his mouth, Terrance lowered his glass to the counter with a quiet thunk.

“Who’d you hear that from?” he asked, his voice rasping slightly.

“People whisper,” said Marlene with a nonchalant shrug, leaning with her elbows against the surface of the island. “They spin the most splendorous tales out there, do you know that?”

“They’re also a bunch of crackheads who hallucinate half of the things they think they see,” Terrance countered. It certainly wasn’t false.

“But the imagery they spin is so vivid, wouldn’t you say?” said Marlene. “You haven’t heard the tales they tell about you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“They whisper of the Renegade in a skull mask.” Another flicker of her eyes in the direction of the very same mask. “They worship the ground the Master of Death walks on as he mingles with the living.”

TAGLIST

@firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @davairys @aetherwrites @ryns-ramblings @teriwrites

#writeblr #wip intro #original writing #writers on tumblr #original stuff #wretches and kings #trying to get back into a pattern of posting #lets see how it goes #i've been wanting to introduce this wip for a while #finally just had to suck it up and do it #anyway #enjoy?

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space-------kid · 4 years ago

Note

Ack! It’s perfectly okay! But in short, Akaza, not hakuji, is human, still apart of the 12 moons, meets a flower shop owner, who after becoming friends with, ends up showing him a flower that they found, the blue spider lily, the flower of which he needs, and he contemplates over turning it in and potentially risking the owner’s safety (cause like, hey, where’d ya get the flower) and keeping here and potentially getting in trouble for not finding it. Maybe smol angst with a fluff ending?

Thank you for your patience, understanding, and clarification - I appreciate them very much! 😭💕💕💕

I hope you like what I come up with, anon! 😊💕

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝓰𝓸𝓸��𝓫𝔂𝓮, 𝓶𝓻. 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮𝓯 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃!𝒜𝓀𝒶𝓏𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The strum of Nakime’s biwa is the last thing he hears before he is transported away from the Dimensional Infinity Fortress. Akaza gets up from his kneeling position, sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted from his meeting with the demon he calls his master. Behind him, the sun is starting to rise from the horizon, signifying a new day he has to face with only one thing in mind.

Despite his abhorrence for humans, Kibutsuji Muzan finds it in himself to tolerate the presence of the only man occupying a spot among his Twelve Demon Moons, more so giving said man the title of Upper Moon Three – the rank branded on his back. Human though he may be, Akaza knows that Muzan favours him along with the top two Upper Moons because of his many uses. For one, no one will suspect that a human like him is willingly working for a demon. And two, he proves to be more useful in the progenitor of the demon’s search for the mysterious blue spider lily - having the capacity to look for the flowers in broad daylight rather than being limited by night. Perhaps these are simply the reason why Akaza hasn’t been turned into a demon yet, and he’d rather not if he’s being completely honest.

The danger of being eaten or mercilessly killed by his fellow Moons remain, however, and it pervades within the ranks of the Lower Moons. While the Upper Moons may have been lenient because they also recognize the uses of a human belonging in the ranks and being of service to Muzan, the Lower ones hate Akaza with a burning passion. How could one measly human gain Muzan’s favour, something they can’t even obtain (maybe with the exception of Lower Five, Rui, who sees Muzan as a father-figure and Akaza some sort of an older brother)?

But Akaza is used to the threats by now. He’s learned to live with every single one of them -- that, after all, is what it means to be a human who chooses to be subservient to the creator of demonkind.

Prepared for another long day ahead of him, Akaza squares his shoulders and sets off on his journey.

Akaza’s trail leads him to a post town called Magome located in the Kiso Valley.

While the town doesn’t look promising enough with regards to his journey, the third Upper Moon still sees the charm of the place itself. He initially plans to stay only for a day and move along with his search, but he hears talk of Demon Slayers converging on the next town he is headed so he decides to lay low for a few days. While he is confident that he can take them on with the use of his Destructive Kill Style - a self-taught Breath Style he has formulated to oppose the Demon Slayers’ - he finds it prudent that secrecy will better help him with his quest for the time being.

Akaza, however, doesn’t count on finding all three inns in the town fully booked. His displeasure must have shown on his face because most of the townspeople have been veering off his general direction. He would have ignored them, but a soft tap on his shoulder sends him turning around to look at whoever it is with a glare.

Looking back, Akaza doesn’t expect that his short stay in Magome will earn him a friend in the form of [Name], an unassuming yet kind owner of the sole flower shop in the town. She has heard of his plight and - as her usual routine - offers to let him stay in her home above the shop. Akaza wants to turn down her request for he barely knows her save for some of the townsfolk encouraging him to do so. After all, they say, [Name] is known to take in those who have been unfortunate enough to be unable to find a place to stay in during their time in the town.

He continues to harbour doubt. What if he’s a thief who wants to take advantage of her offer? What if he’s a murderer? His questions and doubt are short-lived, for [Name] is completely safe under the protection of three older brothers who live close. While not being a part of the Imperial Army nor his enemy the Demon Slayers, [Name]’s siblings are capable fighters who dabble in kyūdō, jiu-jitsu, and kenjutsu each. Despite being capable of defeating all three of them easily should a combat ensue, Akaza is more than satisfied with the knowledge that the unexpected and only friend he’s ever made is safe from the scum of humanity.

And despite his better judgement, Akaza has actually enjoyed his short stay with [Name]. Aside from her kindness, he sees that she’s also understanding and considerate with other people’s plight. She seems to also possess the patience of a saint, and only gets angry for the right reasons. She knows not to pry with other people’s business if they choose to be secretive, but she’s also perceptive enough to know if someone is bearing any malicious intent or ill will towards her. But what Akaza finds endearing about her the most is that she is a genuine person - every action and decision she makes doesn’t contain even an ounce of a hidden agenda of some sort.

After his stay, Akaza surprises himself with visiting [Name] at Magome whenever he can. He thinks at first that she will make a great asset with his search for the blue spider lily, what with her owning a flower shop and all. Slowly, however, he finds that the reason for his visit becomes less and less about the rare and mysterious his master has long coveted.

The Upper Moon incognito gratefully accepts the tea [Name] serves him, fighting the urge to blush under her kind gaze. A bright smile is painted on her face as she begins chattering about the goings on in the town during his absence. Akaza shares the mundane events he encounters as well, mindful not to expose who he is, what his reasons for traveling are, and who he is allied with.

“…then my brothers chased him away and threatened to throw him to prison if he ever sets foot in town because I found out that he’s a liar and has already promised the tailor Hanako-san marriage!” [Name] recounts of a time, during Akaza’s absence, where a shameless man attempted to court her despite being already engaged to one of her friends. “You would’ve disliked him instantly if you’ve been here and saw what he did, Akaza-san. That man has no respect for women!”

Akaza quietly agrees, and it doesn’t escape his notice why the offender would offer [Name] courtship. She’s single and at the perfect age to get married. Aside from her behaviour, she is also an undeniably beautiful woman, with lively [colour] eyes, [length and colour] hair that flows like silk, and [tone] unblemished skin. She is very attractive, both in appearance and personality, and Akaza would be a hypocrite if he denies ever wondering what she’d look like in a shiromuku.

Heat spreads on Akaza’s cheeks at the thought. Maybe… maybe when he’s done with his quest and Lord Muzan has finally achieved his goal, maybe Akaza can…

He shakes his head at the thought. As much as he wants to court [Name] and later ask for her hand in marriage, he has a feeling that his master may not approve.

But maybe Lord Muzan can make an exception? Maybe if Akaza can finally present the demon lord his long coveted blue spider lilies, maybe he’ll grant the third Upper Moon any desire he’d request?

Akaza falters, almost dropping the cup and hearing [Name]’s worried gasp. He’s her friend, why is he thinking and desiring of marriage, of all things? And since when has he started to fantasize about making [Name] his woman? Does a male friend think of his female friend the way he does these past few months of knowing her?

“I’m sorry,” he tells her with a reassuring smile. The lie – he’s the only one who manages to deceive her, why? – comes out smoothly from his lips as he greedily drinks in her reciprocating smile, “I’m just tired from the long journey. I apologize for making you worry.”

Red paints [Name]’s cheeks as she holds the tray close to her chest. Akaza likes to think that it is because she is affected by his smile, just as hers affects him in more ways than one.

“O-Oh!” She blinks in surprise and ducks her head in embarrassment at his claim. “I’m sorry for dragging you off to chat as soon as you came, Akaza-san! Please stay here and let me tidy up your room!”

She is up to her feet before he can stop her, and he tilts his head in curiosity when she rushes back to him with an excited smile on her pretty face.

“Before I forget–! You should come to the forest with me, tomorrow, Akaza-san!” [Name] tells him, looking positively thrilled that it bleeds into Akaza’s chest. “I found something that I want to show only you!”

Something that has excited her– something that she wants to show only to him?

Akaza smiles softly at her retreating form, anticipation building in his entire being. He can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

The trek to the forest has showered Akaza with opportunity to spend more time alone with [Name]. While her older brothers have been kind and open to him, they still exude that protective air around her whenever Akaza’s gaze stays at her longer than they’re comfortable with.

Kiso Valley is beautiful during the summer season. He admires the way [Name]’s face lights up as she points at the flowers they pass by on the trail, explaining to Akaza that the area is where she mostly gets and cultivates the flowers she sells in her shop. He’s seen and heard her talk about her beloved shop and flowers for what seems to be a hundred times already but Akaza doesn’t tire about the topic – not one bit, not when [Name] glows with passion for the things she loves.

The trail soon becomes steep, and Akaza is quick grab [Name] by the waist when she almost stumbles in the uneven ground. He can feel her softness through the fabric of her kimono, marvelling at how perfect she fits against his battle-hardened frame. They stare at each other in surprise, the close proximity between the two of them painting their faces a bright shade of red. Akaza reluctantly lets her go, immediately missing her soft and sweet frame against his, and he wonders if it has just been his imagination working in overdrive when he notices that [Name] sort of looks like she is feeling the same. He offers her his hand instead, and his heart leaps with joy when she shyly accepts his offer.

[Name] looks around fifteen minutes later, seemingly checking for anyone in the trail with them.

“Do you see anyone else here, Akaza-san?” she then asks him, her free hand clutching the sleeve of his dark blue gi like a child looking for an adult’s guidance. Akaza bites his lip to keep himself from smiling at the adorable sight, and focuses in their surroundings.

Utilizing his heightened perceptions, Akaza shakes his head at [Name] when the only battle spirit he senses in the area is hers. “We’re the only ones here, [Name]-san,” he tells her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

[Name] smiles eagerly up at him and, to his surprise, leads him off the trail. They walk in silence deeper into the forest, to Akaza’s mounting confusion. [Name] seems to be growing more excited while they walk, and a gasp of delight slips past her lips when they reached a small clearing.

“They’re here again!” she exclaims giddily and excitedly tugs Akaza along with her. Akaza looks around, unable to find the source of her excitement until his blues eyes shifts their focus on the small patch of flowers in the middle of the clearing.

“Look, Akaza-san! Aren’t they pretty?”

Heart beating wildly in his throat, Akaza gazes wide-eyed at the blue spider lilies before him. He cannot believe what he is seeing, cannot believe that the one thing his master has been looking for for centuries now lay in front of him.

Akaza’s done it, he has succeeded more than the rest of his fellow Upper Moons! His long search for the mysterious blue spider lily has finally come to an end!

[Name]’s delighted laughter reaches Akaza’s ears, snapping him out of his stupor. He watches as she plucks one of the blue spider lilies and shyly offers it to him.

“I knew the sight of them would render you speechless,” she tells him softly, [colour] eyes glowing with pride and happiness, “just like they did to me when I first saw them two years ago.”

Akaza lets [Name] guide him down until they are both seated on the grassy earth. He takes the proffered flower and studies it with open curiosity, prompting her to tell him what she knows of the strange flowers.

“I found them by accident, you know,” [Name] says. “My first thought upon seeing them was how much money I could be earning should I sell them, but I realized that they’re better off staying here and flourishing by themselves. They’re strange, see, and I found out why the hard way. From what I’ve observed, they only bloom for three days every year! They only bloom during daylight and wilt when the sun sets. How very strange!”

Ah. So that was why Lord Muzan’s search has been ruthless for the past centuries. The only thing he needs to fully unlock the immortality he so craves is perfectly guarded by the Sun he cannot conquer. And with such a short lifespan, it’s no wonder his fellow Upper Moons’ contacts cannot find even the shadow of the blue spider lilies.

The success belongs to Akaza now, doesn’t it? He’s finally found the blue spider lilies. Plans to contact Lord Muzan and tell the latter of his find runs rampant in Upper Moon Three’s mind, but [Name]’s smiling face instantly derails his thought process.

He knows Lord Muzan is a man who believed that his word is absolute. If Akaza tells him that he’s found the flowers through [Name], he is sure that the progenitor of demons would hold her accountable for his centuries’ worth of fruitless searching. Lord Muzan will accuse her of keeping the blue spider lilies’ existence and location a secret, thus endangering her and her brothers’ life should Akaza report his find.

Akaza reminds himself that his loyalty is with Muzan alone. But what stands in his way of proving that loyalty comes in the form of the only friend he’s ever made his whole life – a friend whom he is quickly falling in love with. Would he be willing to trade the happiness [Name]’s presence offers him for the undying loyalty and servitude he’s first offered Muzan? Would he willingly go far as to endangering her life for the fulfillment of his mission?

“I’ve been keeping their existence a secret from the townsfolk and the outsiders,” he hears [Name] speak to fill in the silence between them. Akaza looks at her, and he is reduced to admiring the way her cheeks flushed under his gaze, how her eyes brightened the longer she stares at him.

Akaza’s heart is flooded with a surge of warmth and deep affection at the words she say next.

“I want them to be just mine and Akaza-san’s secret, because… because Akaza-san is special to me!”

The way [Name] speaks with such conviction has Akaza come to a decision himself.

He would rather get himself into trouble for keeping his discovery a secret than to have the only light in his life be snuffed out because of him. He would lie to his fellow Demon Moons, would lie to Muzan himself, if it would keep [Name] safe. Akaza has never been this sure his entire life – in exchange for making him experience what it feels and means to be happy again, he would willingly die in his master’s hands in exchange of [Name]’s safety.

At the end of the day and their trip to the forest, Akaza promises [Name] that the blue spider lilies’ existence will be their secret.

The third Upper Moon – should he still call himself that? – gazes up at the moon through his room’s window. He can hear [Name] moving in her room next to his and soon enough, her soft footsteps approach. Akaza turns just in time to see her silhouette through the shoji door.

“Akaza-san? I’m sorry for the intrusion, but are you still awake?”

He gets up from his seat and moves to open the door. [Name] blushes under his gaze. She is carrying a tea set on a tray with her, and she seems to be fidgeting where she stands.

“W-Would you like a cup of tea before you sleep?”

She is acting like a caring wife, and Akaza is now convinced that he won’t trade her for anything in the world.

He lifts a hand and softly pats her twice on the head, smiling affectionately at the meek smile she gives him.

“Only if you join me,” he softly tells her. He quickly backpedals, however, when he realizes that he hasn’t been clear with his words when [Name] gapes up at him with wide eyes and a deep blush on her face. “W-With the tea– d-drinking t-tea, I mean! Please, h-have a cup of t-tea with me, b-b-before I sleep!”

Face still flushed a lovely shade of red, [Name]’s tinkling laughter echoes in her humble home as she enters Akaza’s room.

#akaza #akaza x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

GOC; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 7.2

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@dancingcoolcat

@queen-paladin

@kinole009x

________________________________________________________

The scene once again changed and now you stood out in an open field. However unlike the other scenes before, it was the middle of winter because all that lay before you was nothing but pure white snow. Never have you seen snow this white and pure before (at least to this degree).

You both hear footsteps coming up beside you and coming up standing just a few feet beside you was Serafina. She looked older roughly around 15-16. She wore black winter dress with a blood red overcoat around her. Her hair was now almost down to her butt but it was tied up in a French braid.

Soon coming up beside her were two men roughly around their mid to late 40s. They almost looked alike except one had short hair and the other had long hair. Both their hairs were as black as night and they both sported short beards.

The one with the long black hair had piercing blue eyes and he held his presences like a king. His watchful eye scoured the field with intensity. The wind softly blew his hair around but he remained unfazed by it.

The second man was slightly younger than the other man and had a lighter shade of blue eyes, almost hazel like. He had a more relaxed spirit about him but there was still a wise aura you felt around him (the same aura you get from Brian).

“Protecting the borders of our homeland is sacred Serafina. It has been our family right since we were chosen by Thomas Riddle Deacon himself. No creature gets pass these rolling hills, and one day it’ll rest on you to defend it.” The long haired man spoke. Wow just when you though John’s father had a deep voice, this guy’s voice was like soft thunder.

“But father I just don’t understand why magical creatures need to be killed. Why not give them a warning or allow them to go free?” she asked him.

“They’ll seek to destroy us all if they could. Nagas, Dragons, Nokks, Faes.” You hear Freddie scoff.

“But it was Riddle who started this war! And we’ll gladly finissshhhh it!” Freddie hissed angrily.

“Easy Edmund no need to scare the poor girl.” The second man spoke. His voice in a way reminded you of Brian’s. Soft and warm and held a sense of comfort. “We understand your concern Serafina but…..there are some creatures who unfortunately cannot be reasoned with. Plus it’s just the way the Deacon family law states. And has been for thousands of years.” He said to Serafina as he placed a comforting hand to her shoulder.

“You always did try to sugarcoat everything Albus. But Serafina is my daughter and I know what is best for her to understand.” Soon a flash of light was shot up high in the sky. “It’s Regulus he’s found it. Come on!” he roared out the command and soon with a flash of speed, all three of them shifted into wolves and ran across the snow towards the flash of light.

“On her father’s side, as you now have heard, the Black family has been the protectors of England’s wizard tribe since the reign of……” he trailed off and when you turned to Freddie you swore you saw a flash of anger in his eyes. He took a deep breath in before exhaling out and continued, “The Deacons saw that the Black family were not only skilled in Transfigurations, which came in handy for less threatening creatures, but also their knowledge on Mythical creatures themselves. In fact a rumor has been said that the Black family may be connected to Archimedes himself. Because only he had such power of knowledge especially when it came to Magical creatures. But it’s never been proven.”

“I thought you could prove that? After all you see the past and future right?” you tease. Freddie glared down at you which made you back off.

“You are one step closer to finding out what the inside of a Naga’s stomach is like if I here another comment like that.”

“Sorry Freddie won’t happen again I promise!”

“Good. Now there is one last thing for you to see. And it’s what truly began John and Serafina’s journey.”

The snowy fields disappeared from your sight but for some reason the rest of the scene didn’t change. It was sunny and the field before you was now filled with tall yellow meadow grass.

“John! John wait. I—I still don’t feel comfortable about this.” Serafina’s voice said. Soon enough coming up from behind you were John and Serafina.

They were now the current age you’ve come to know them as however John looked slightly different. He had long black hair that went well past his shoulders, his skin seemed paler than when he was a child, but he was still pretty handsome.

And of course Serafina was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was now the same length as John’s. The two of them holding hands with each other as they finally stopped and Serafina said.

“John you know what my father has said about being out this far. Especially with what’s been lurking around the border lately.”

“I know but—he said he wanted us to meet here.”

“John I—I have to be honest with you. I’m scared.” John cupped Serafina’s face in his hands as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I’ve heard of the things your grandfather has done, and……what if—”

“Nothing will happen to you so long as I’m around. Besides he—he’s known about your skills and said that there’s no one better he/d rather have at my side.” He stroked her cheeks lovingly with his thumbs, “Plus he seems to be the only one in my family that actually approves of us.”

“I know you want respect from him but my father……he’s always feared your grandfather and if he finds out I met him……you won’t leave my side, will you?”

“Never. I’ll never leave your side.” She softly smiled and the two of them softly kissed one another when the sound of the grass rustling started them. “Grandfather?” John questioned after a moment of silence.

“It is time. You both musssst follow.” A familiar voice spoke. You quickly turn to Freddie in shock but he pointed out for you to keep watching.

“Get behind me John!” Serafina stood in front of John and took out her wand. “This man is under the protection of the Black family. Whatever you are, show yourself or face the consequences.” Soon slithering out of the tall grass was Freddie. Both John and Serafina stood there in horror as you watch Freddie tell them.

“Be calm. I do not wish to harm either of you. It issss time. You both are finally ready. The world needssss you both now. Follow me.”

“We aren’t going anywhere with you Naga! Now leave us alone!” Serafina growled as the tip of her wand began to glow.

“That is not your decision Serafina Rhea Black!” Freddie warned as he slithered closer to them and stood almost two feet taller than them.

Both John and Serafina stood there terrified and frozen with fear. They knew that magic wouldn’t work against a Naga so they were completely helpless at this point. As Freddie continued to glare down at the two of them, he was unaware of something stalking behind him.

A thunderous roar soon came from behind as Freddie was now jumped by a very large dark maned lion. The lion continuously scratched and bite at Freddie. He tried to grab the lion with his coils but it soon leapt off of him, leaving Freddie bleeding from his back and sides.

Soon all of Serafina’s family both on her mother’s and father’s side surrounded the area.

“GET OFF OF OUR LANDS NAGA!!” Her father roared as he now stood where the lion once stood. Her mother, cousins, aunt, and uncles all glared at Freddie with pure hatred as their wands were at the ready, glowing with the most powerful spell they could think of that would at least drive Freddie away.

Panting he lowered himself to the ground but not before staring once again at John and Serafina. Then with a quick burst of speed, Freddie disappeared into the grass never to be seen again. Serafina’s father now once again as the lion let out a fearsome roar as he panted aggressively.

Serafina turned to John and checked him over as did he, the two young lovers cupping each other’s faces to make sure the other was still there. For no one had ever survived a Naga encounter.

“Did it hurt you?” her father’s voice suddenly said as he took Serafina away from John. He soon began checking her over as Serafina said.

“Dad stop it I’m fine.” He then cupped her face as he said.

“Don’t ever do that to us again. We were so worried.” He placed his forehead against hers in a comforting gesture. Thankful that his daughter was still alive.

“Nothing happened dad, I’m fine. As is John.” That’s when her father briefly glared at John before turning to the two ginger haired twins.

“Fred, George. Take Serafina back to the Burrow along with the rest of the children.” The twins soon walked up towards Serafina and linked her arms with theirs.

“Fred, George put me down! Stop it you guys!”

“You’re lucky to be alive Serafina.” Said one of the twins.

“Yeah Serafina. Nagas eat wizards and witches. You would’ve been a perfect appetizer.” Then with a spiral of wind, the three of them disappeared from the field. You remember John calling it apparating.

The next scene however would prove to what Freddie told you earlier about Serafina’s father. And you would find yourself even being afraid of her father more than John’s.

When Serafina was gone, her father turned back to John who tried to make himself smaller.

“How. Dare you!” her father growled.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“YOU’RE SORRY!?” He roared. “First you take my daughter away from watching her younger cousins. Then you take her out straight to the border despite KNOWING! A NAGA WAS IN THE AREA!!!”

“I know a Naga was here. I don’t know what it wanted, I was only here because my grandfather—” that’s when John stopped talking and as Serafina’s father let out a low yet angry lion growl out of his throat, John’s face suddenly changed to an ‘oh shit’ face.

He knew he had screwed up by mentioning his grandfather before her father.

“YOU’RE GRANDFATHER WAS HERE!?!?” Edmund roared out.

“No. I—” John tried to save himself but Edmund pointed his wand right at John. The tip glowing bright green as he sneered.

“Do not lie to me John Deacon!” he towered over John’s frightened form. His eyes filled with fear as he looked up at Mr. Black. You wished you had existed that way you could defend John from the oncoming wrath of Serafina’s father.

“My grandfather said he wanted to meet Serafina. And he insisted it be out here but I’d never let him hurt her I promise!” John suddenly spat out as fast as he could. It almost sounded like he wasn’t even speaking English with how fast he was talking. Suddenly he was hit square in the chest with a blue blast of magic and knocked down to the ground.

The wind practically knocked out of him as he tried to sit himself back up.

“I don’t know what my daughter ever saw in you. But it ends now! YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN A CURSE UPON MY FAMILY!!” John curled in on himself trying to hide like a turtle in its shell. That’s when you saw Edmund Black raise his wand and began to say.

“Avada Ked—” but then a crash of lightning lit up the sky before it began to suddenly downpour rain.

Serafina’s entire family was confused and one young girl around Serafina’s age (probably another cousin) spoke up.

“Why’s it raining? It’s dry season.” That’s when her mother said.

“It’s true. The Curse of Grindelwald!” that’s when her father backed away fearfully.

“You did this. You’re-you’re a demon! I’ve known it since you came into our lives!” he screamed down at John.

“What? No I’m not! I’m…….” John trailed off not knowing what else to say.

“If your grandfather won’t let me kill you. Then I’ll just erase my daughter’s memory of you. Every last ounce of it!”

“Edmund No! She didn’t do anything I’m sorry it was all me! Erase my memory just—”

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!! DEMON!!” then like Serafina and her cousins Fred and George did, Edmund Black apparated out of the fields.

John turned towards the rest of Serafina’s family and pleaded over the sound of the rain and thunder.

“Someone help me stop him! Serafina’s innocent in all of this! Rhea please!” he turned towards Serafina’s mother who refused to look at him with her chin up and her eyes closed.

“You’ve endangered my child for the last time John Richard Deacon. As her mother I know what’s best for her, you will be obliviated from her mind.”

“WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU!?!?” He roared at her. “You would willingly allow your daughter to have her mind erased!? You’ve never liked me! Hell you never even loved her! If you were really her mother you wouldn’t allow this to happen to your only child!” John continued to unleash his wrath on Serafina’s mom.

“I do love her John! I love her so much it hurts! And never have I seen her more happy than when she’s with you!” her mother wept. “That’s the problem. Don’t you see?” this time her mother spoke with venom in her voice. “Merlin’s beard! You are a descendant of Balthazar! You are a Deacon for Merlin’s sake! And yet……”

She exhaled her anger shakily as she now continued in a softer tone.

“When I think back on the chaos your family has caused; All I think is the danger my daughter will be in. It makes me feel—” she trailed off as her face now showed pure heartbreak and you could swear from the rain, you saw a teardrop fall down her face as she choked out. “Afraid.” Her fearful expression then hardened as she spoke in a stronger tone now, “Fear. Is one thing that your family has forbidden in the cult!”

She then turned away from John once again as she spoke gravely.

“That’s why I never looked at you. Serafina should’ve done the same to protect herself. Love like that gets you killed. And if she has to be erased of that…….so be it.” She then turned to the rest of the family. “Let’s ensure that Naga is far from these borders everyone.”

Soon her whole family took off on their brooms to do a search party for Freddie but you watched as one wizard stayed on the ground. Serafina’s uncle Albus.

“Albus wait!” John pleaded. “You know this can’t be right. Please I really need your help. I can’t stop your brother alone please. Serafina wouldn’t want this.” Albus whom you had seen earlier to have a clam exterior finally broke as he turned to John and spat at him venomously.

“I may have been accepting of your romantic relationship with my niece John. But now I draw the line here!”

“I’m sorry. I was stupid to bring her out here with the Naga on the loose. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“It’s not the Naga I’m upset about. It was the mention of your grandfather that broke my trust in you. You know as well as I do that those you meet your grandfather never. Come. Back. Alive!”

“I said I’m sorry what else is there for me to say?!” John begged to her uncle.

“We don’t care what you say from here on out. We care what you’ve done. All of this is your own fault. As I once taught you back in school, you can solve this on your own.” He walked a few feet away from John.

“Albus come on!” her uncle Albus lowered his head before turning back to John with broken eyes and spoke softly.

“For the first time in 35 years I agree with my brother. After today I don’t want you anywhere near Serafina.” After he said that, John’s eyes filled with tears before he apparated away broken heartedly. All the while Albus with his own heartbroken expression on his face before flying off.

The scene faded away before slightly altering itself. You turn to Freddie, tears pouring down your own face.

“Must they really blame him for his families actions? Why couldn’t they see that he’d never hurt Serafina? Hell, even now a thousand years later he never harmed her.”

“That’s the fear of the hierarchy. The Weasley’s and the Black’s feared the Deacon family more than anything. As did almost every other family all over England. That’s what power and bloodline can do for you. But this is what really set John over the edge.”

The scene still showed it was raining. The ground was even more wet than it was in the last scene you saw.

“After they saw me, both John and Serafina’s memories were wiped away of seeing a Naga. But when her father tried to erase her mind of John like he promised, Serafina fled and no one saw her for three days. That’s when in secret her cousins Fred and George told John about Serafina’s disappearance. He was planning on fleeing England since he didn’t belong anywhere but when he heard about his beloved missing, he feared the worst. So he went searching for her, never stopping till he found her. Even as it rained for days on end. Till finally he came across something that changed the game for him.”

You soon saw John land down on the ground racing across the field crying out Serafina’s name.

“SERAFINA! SERAFINA MY LOVE! If you’re out there please! Please answer me!” you then saw him trip over something. “Morgana damnit what did I just trip—on?” a flash of lightning soon revealed the most horrifying sight that made both you and John scream.

There on the ground motionless, scarred up and eyes glazed over was the corpse of Serafina’s father. Dried blood stained from his gaping mouth and his back littered with whip marks.

“The first of the hierarchy will perish. The family that he……no!” John first muttered to himself before gasping in horror. He was just about to take off when a blue fire whip wrapped around his waist slamming John to the ground before dissolving n the rain. John slowly turned around and you could see a figure from the rain and mist that started to form around the man.

When the mist cleared there stood a man that just gave you such a feeling that you couldn’t help but hide behind Freddie just to shield yourself away from this man. He had the same hair color as John’s father but instead of long it was spiked up and each side of his head looked shaved off. Both his eyes were different colors, one was deep dark brown while the other was so white it almost made his eye blind.

A slight mustache could be seen from his upper lip and in his hand was a wand unlike any other wand you’ve seen. It looked like it was made out of human bone and the joints of them stuck out like little bulbs along the length of the wand.

“Play nice now Johnny boy. No cheating.” God even this man’s voice sent fear up every inch of your body. The way it groveled in that low baritoneish register.

“G-Grandfather Grindelwald. Th—this was the family you…….”

“A little overboard on your mother’s part. Now where are the rest of them?” his grandfather said as he got right into John’s face.

“I……..”

“As I said to you earlier John. No lying. Play fair for your grandfather unlike this poor soul.” He said as he gestured towards Serafina’s father. John remained silent before his grandfather snapped. “Answer me! Now boy!”

“They’re searching for one of their own! And the younger children are at the family home at the Burrow!” John surrendered. Oh god John what have you done?

“That’s a good boy. I’ll have to thank ole’ Albus for that little tip of his brother’s weak spot. It was very……informative. Now, my dear grandson. The time has finally come for you to take your stand amongst your family.”

“Wait! You can’t kill them!”

“You would still defend them even after they abandoned you?” his grandfather stroked John’s cheek with the back of his hand. You could visibly see John shaking underneath his grandfather’s touch as he continued to pull the heartstrings on John. “John Richard Deacon, my grandson. The next in line for the title of Sorcerer Supreme. Surpassing my own sons and your older brother. Mistreated by your own blood, unloved. And feared by others. Oh……but not all. There is one—who loves you so dearly.”

The whispers of his grandfather were haunting to listen to. This man was a true manipulator.

“If her family really knew her, they would’ve found her already. What do you say lad?” John stayed silent before looking down. His shoulders shaking and his grandfather wrapped his arms around John. “We can be her family now. You both can be together forever.”

“If you really want me to prove myself to you, let me be the one to do it.” John said. His grandfather released him from his hug and said.

“How do I know you’ll finish all of them?”

“I’ve been with them for over 16 years there’s no one they’ll trust more than me. I’ll kill every last one of them. Find Serafina and bring her to the manor. Even if I have to put her under a spell to do so! But call off the hunt and let me kill every last one of those filthy Half-blood traitors and cowards!”

His grandfather eyed him while John held firm. His eyes showing darkness and anger behind them.

“Very well. Go.” John walked past his grandfather but he gave John one last piece of advice. “And Johnny boy. None of this is personal. It’s what one does in order to keep the peace. We can’t allow naysayers or doubters in our midst. Once your Sorcerer Supreme by the end of the Summer, you’ll understand.” With that John flew off.

You and Freddie follow behind John to see him now landing at the Border’s entrance of the English wizard’s homeland. John turned around with solemn eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“JOHN! JOHN!!” His head raised up at the sound of a female voice calling out to him. Racing through the rain was none other than Serafina.

“SERAFINA!” he dropped his broom and raced towards her. The two of them embraced as he lifted her up and spun her around in his arms. The two of them frantically kissing each other. “What are you…..doing…..here?! Are you…..okay!? Why did…..you do this? Why!?” John said between his kisses.

“My dad was trying to erase our memories and I couldn’t let him do that to me and then I heard that my dad hurt you! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I should never have allowed Fred and George to take me away! If only I fought against that Naga then my family wouldn’t have been there……this is all my fault!” she wept brokenly.

“No, no, no. Shhh, hey, hey shhhh. Shhhh” John embraced her tightly. He rocked her back and forth as she wept into his chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry I put you in the middle of all of this.” He kept Serafina close to her, kissing the top of her forehead and the crown of her head.

After she calmed down, Serafina looked up at John and said to him.

“When my family finds us, I can explain everything to them. Including my dad. They’ll understand I promise.” Hearing the mention of her family’s ultimate fate and even seeing her father’s corpse with his own two eyes made John look down in shame. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” John said solemnly.

“No. Something’s on your mind. What is it John?”

“It’s just……I—I’m running away from home.”

“What?” she gasped out. “But you know you have a home with me. My aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur accept you. As does uncle Albus. I don’t care what my parents say you can stay with us at the Burrow.”

“It’s not that it’s just……” he trailed off again. His silence was beginning to worry Serafina down to her very core.

“John you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on?” suddenly a flash of lightning was heading straight down for Serafina but just before it could strike, John apparated the two of them out of harm’s way.

“Serafina I need you to trust me right now I promise I’ll explain everything but now is not the time! Please my love come with me!” John desperately pleaded with her as he extended his hand out to her. Serafina turned back towards their home before looking back at John.

“Are we—ever coming back?” her voice choked out. John remained silent before saying.

“Unlikely.”

“I’ve never been further than this before. I’m frightened.” She whimpered. That’s when John took her left hand with both of his and he said as he held her hand to his lips.

“Me too.” He gave her hand a soft kiss before continuing, “But as long as we’re together, we can face anything. Right?”

“Okay. As—long as we’re together.” John brought Serafina close to him and the two of them shared a soft kiss before getting on top of their brooms and flying off away from their homes, their old lives.

The scene fade to black as you felt that feeling of being pulled back upwards and you let out a gasp before coughing and finding yourself back in the attic.

It was now nightfall as you and Freddie stood there in the darkness of the attic together. Stumbling back, you left the attic and collapsed half way out of the hallway at everything you had seen. That familiar pain in your chest that you felt just shortly after your final test was now growing stronger.

You clenched your heart as you tried to take deep soothing breaths. You feel a pair of hands touch your shoulders and soon you’re looking into the eyes of Brian.

“I know what it is you saw. For it has also been in our minds.”

“I—I can’t……..” Brian rubs your back comfortingly as you feel the tears trinkle down your face. “Does…..Did she ever find out?” you say after a while of nothing but silence.

“She’s clever. After a few months of traveling together she pieced why John took her without a good reason. And she found out from John just who exactly killed her father.” Brian said.

“Earlier when John knelt down before Serafina and she looked like she wanted to attack him. Why did he not try to fight back?”

“Since it was his family that killed hers, every year on this date. John nulls his magic so that he’s powerless to even fight against Serafina. He then offers himself to her as penance for her to unleash her magical rage upon his body. To inflict every ounce of pain that not only has ran through her body, but her families. But every year she can’t bring herself to do it. Because she knows it wasn’t John’s doing.” Freddie explained.

“Poor Serafina. I can’t imagine the guilt that plaques her mind. Or what she’s going through. I mean I’ve lost family members naturally or back during the War but—I can’t imagine mass murder.” It was then Freddie left the hallway without another word.

“One other person can though.” Brian tells you. You turn to the Elven lord and he continues, “Remember when Freddie said that he and Serafina share something in common?” you nod. “Did he sneer at the name of Thomas Riddle Deacon?”

“Yeah in the flashbacks he mentioned that Thomas started the war and—wait. You mean……” Brian nodded solemnly.

“Never did I think it could be possible, but he did it. Thomas Riddle Deacon. John’s great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather was the first wizard of Balthazar’s line to destroy the kind wizard name of the Deacons. Thomas Riddle forged the most powerful wand known to all Wizards and Witches. The Eldar wand, made of the bone of a wizard and harnessed by the most powerful lifeforce. Legend says that that wand has enough power to extinguish an entire race. And with that wand, he used it to obliterate all the Nagas of the world. The Nagas fearing this power was too much for one wizard to handle, assembled an army to stop Riddle. In the end…..Freddie was the sole survivor of the massacre.”

Poor Freddie. No wonder why he’s so cautious around others, so quick to strike first. He had to watch his entire family be killed right in front of him.

And now learning of how Nagas can live eternally and last eons, carrying that guilt with him for that long—no wonder why he is the way he is.

“Can—can I see Serafina?”

“You won’t have much luck. She’s never spoken until after a week of mourning her family. You can try but don’t get your hopes up. And be cautious of what you say around her. Last time I tried to help, I got shot back 30 feet and ended up stuck in the tree of a wasp colony for 2 days.” You stand up and walk back out towards the garden.

The crickets chirping away their nightly orchestra song, the stars twinkling in the sky and the half moon high at the center of the sky. You saw Serafina, Roger and John in the same position as this morning, none of them moved an inch.

Slowly you walk up towards them and finally speak up the names of your teachers.

“John? Serafina?”

“What do you want?” John’s voice graveled out as he kept his head down low.

“I—I know what happened. I know your stories.” You say. None of them move till John slowly turns his head towards you. His eyes narrowed and cold.

“How much do you know?”

“Everything. Freddie showed me with Brian’s mirror and using both of your tears. The day you both first met each other, your families, even the day you both left. I know everything. I—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry! You don’t know the first thing about what we went through. Seeing it is one thing but actually going through it is another! Now leave us and let Serafina grieve in peace!” John snarled. His hand slowly starting to glow purple.

Fearing that he was going to attack you out of pure rage and send you flying across the sky, you slowly back away from John fearfully.

“Wait.” A voice spoke up. Roger’s and John’s face turn to pure shock as Serafina now finally free of her broken shell spoke up. She steps toward you and says in the same low tone, “After knowing everything, do you still trust John Deacon with your life (Y/n)?”

You turn to John who looks at you with a grim look on his face. Even after seeing what John went through in his childhood, you knew that wasn’t who he was today. You’ve seen how he’s acted around you, the guys, but especially Serafina. How loyal he is to her and how he’s protected her.

“Very much so.” You say determinedly.

“Then your final test was a success.” She said softly. “I had hoped mine would be the same after all these years, but—” she turned her head away from you, shutting her eyes tightly and biting her lower lip. You could see tears at the corner of her eyes even through the half-moon’s light.

“It wasn’t your fault though Serafina.” You say softly before reaching out and placing your hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped right back to yours and you saw for yourself her eyes glowing pure red with rage as she snapped at you.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” the red light faded from her eyes as she looked down and spat out, “I don’t want any more pity!” you back away from her. Even feel John’s hands on your shoulders as he pulled you away from her rage. “For this next week; Freddie, Brian and Roger will continue your training. I’m sure you also know why you’re learning all of this?”

“Yes ma’am. Freddie told me the morning of my final test.” You didn’t bother to even ask how she could’ve found out about that. Being a witch (and a very, very skilled telepathic witch as John told you on your one on one sessions) she must’ve known from reading either yours or Freddie’s mind.

“Of course, he did.” She sighed solemnly as she got down to her knees. “After a week John and I will resume your magical training.” With that she became that broken shell once again. Her face frozen yet her eyes looking like they were traveling far back in time.

Searching eternally for answers on why but only coming up with pain and regret.

“There. You’ve spoken your mind to them. Now let Serafina rest and John to accept his punishment.” Roger tells you sternly.

With that you don’t say another word. You turn your back on them and leave the three of them in the garden in the cool spring weather.

In your bedroom you just lay there staring up at the ceiling digesting everything that happened today. Suddenly an even greater pain struck your chest. You don’t know whether it was sympathy pains for John and Serafina but this time around after seeing their childhood, the pain in your chest was growing bigger and more painful than ever before.

“I’m sorry Serafina. I’m sorry John. I wish you both didn’t have to go through all that.” You shut your eyes, and fell into na restless sleep.

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missjosie27 · 4 years ago

Text

Better Luck Next Time

My submission for the @hphmbang2020! It was definitely intense to write. So @nikyiscreepy I really hope you like it!

Fair warning, this gets pretty violent.

Penny Haywood considered herself a fairly happy person- upbeat, engaging, and always ready to lend a hug or helping hand when someone required it. “A bright little ball of sunshine you are” her dad would often say. While some would suggest it was disingenuous (“No one’s that happy,” Merula would often sass behind her back) the thirteen year old Hufflepuff had come to be proud of the fact she embodied the traits of her house: hard work, loyalty, and above all, kindness.

Though only in third year, it was no secret to anyone how well liked she was. Adventuring with David Grant certainly played a factor in that equation. Though the sibling of an ex-student once thought to be mad, the bravery displayed earned the mutual respect and liking of the student body. But her accomplishments stood out in her own right. Among other things she was a brilliant potioneer, so talented in the subject that even the perpetually miserable Professor Snape tolerated her presence. The kindly demeanor exhibited daily created a sense of trust among her peers that they could tell her anything. So while she enjoyed gossip, none of it carried any malicious intent. Another factor was involved, one unspoken of mostly but certainly whispered by many of the boys in her year: Penny Haywood was extraordinarily beautiful, the radiant personally only matched by soft, shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires in a fountain. To the untrained eye or those who did not know her, the young Hufflepuff was the envy of just about everyone in Hogwarts.

However, even the brightest angels have inner demons. Some unexpected.

It happened rather suddenly at the end of a standard Herbology class. It was a lovely September day, the kind one aches for during the harsh winter of the Scottish Highlands, and Professor Sprout was instructing the class on Valerian root. Though not always the best at managing plants as many of her house peers were, this class held particular interest to Penny as Valerian was a common ingredient in many potions. As head of Hufflepuff, the young teen hoped that Sprout might allow her to take home some spare leaves, something that had often occurred in the past. As a result, she remained on her best behavior.

“Gather round, everyone!” Sprout called out. “Too much water on the Valerian root will kill it within moments. I will demonstrate the proper amount to use. Miss Haywood, will you fetch me that pail on the shelf?”

Practically bouncing with joy, the Hufflepuff did as told with gusto. Approaching the closet where the pails were kept she could overhear Tonks discussing a possible prank with David on Madam Pince, the latter of whom seemed skeptical.

“Which of these plants do you think would work best for bothering a certain, irritable librarian?”

“Tonks, just how many detentions do you plan on getting this year?”

Those two, she thought with a silent laugh while simultaneously opening the closet door.

From out of the wild blue an enormous, shaggy beast popped out and began roaring with vicious snarls. Penny recognized right away what it was and it practically paralyzed her with fear: a werewolf.

No sooner than this happened she unleashed a blood curdling scream causing everyone to look in her general direction. The situation might have turned into absolute bedlam were it not for the cool, timely intervention of Professor Sprout.

“Everyone remain calm!” she ordered. “There is nothing to fear. Please stand back, Miss Haywood.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, diving under the table and didn’t move, barely registering the command ‘Riddikulus’ issued from her head of house or the muffled voices above. It wasn’t until Professor Sprout peered underneath the table Penny came back to her senses.

“Miss Haywood, you may come out now. You do not need to be afraid any longer.”

She did so, but trembled so badly it was a wonder she was able to stand at all.

“Oh, you poor, dear. I think a trip to Madam Pomfrey might be in order just to be safe.”

“I’ll take her,” her roommate Chiara Lobosca immediately volunteered. “I have some experience helping in the Hospital Wing. It’s the least I can do.”

The platinum blonde Hufflepuff hooked her arm into hers, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder, though Penny was still traumatized to the point of being shell shocked.

“That is very kind of you Miss Lobosca,” Professor Sprout nodded. “I think we’ve all had enough for one day. I will also be forced to report this to the Headmaster; to my knowledge this is the first time a boggart has ever been seen inside the greenhouses. Class dismissed.”

She allowed herself to be led away by Chiara, vaguely remembering the concern etched on the faces of David and Tonks. But that was not the worst part of this horrifying debacle. No for Penny Haywood, the scars ran much deeper.

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

The domain of Madam Pomfrey was about as safe it could get for any student that roamed the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry especially given the fact that unexpected danger was a constant at the institution. However, Penny could not have felt any less secure at the moment.

She was given a calming draught and a bar of Honeydukes chocolate to soothe her nerves, but the delicious treat had no appeal at the moment and so remained untouched. Something far more sinister lay at the heart of her fear.

‘It was only a boggart, dear. Not the real thing. You were never in real danger.’

But for Penny, it was small comfort. As far as she was concerned, any werewolf, real or fake, was a monster...a cancerous disease and certainly something to be afraid of. That Chiara showcased the classic virtues of Hufflepuff and assisted her also caused a source of conflict. Tossing to the side of the soft hospital bed, a surge of horrible guilt threatened to engulf her, nearly erupting into tears.

Chiara’s your friend...she’d never….you know she’s not….

Chastising herself for even entertaining the thought of her dorm mate even being remotely dangerous, she had to summon a reminder that Chiara fought against Fenrir Greyback in their first year. Though discovering her secret by accident, the young teenage girl eventually came around to see Chiara as a kindred soul rather than an enemy. The two were friends. So why the anger? Why the fear?

Cursing her own prejudice, images of David popped into her mind.

‘Chiara isn’t a killer. She’s nothing like Greyback or any of the other werewolves that try to hurt people.’

This statement led to Penny explaining the full story of what happened in the past. Unpleasant as it was, the memories came flooding back as though an old dam finally broke through. Much as the happy go lucky girl had tried to bury them...they were very much alive.

Flashback

A warm summer’s night in June was one of Penny’s most favorite times of the year. She simply loved the warmth and all the splendor that came with it. Most of the time in England one had to wear a jumper, trousers, or stockings during soggy, wet, and cold cloudy months on the island every Briton called home. But for a few measley months of the year, better weather could be found.

It was all the more important for the young girl to witness some kind of sunshine and freedom. The world was a very dangerous place as her mother kept reminding her. ‘You Know Who’ may have been gone but those who served him were still everywhere and not at all favorable to those they deemed inferior to them. It was an unfortunate reality for the thirteen year old who had many friends within the area of their vacation home directly north of London. Being on holiday might have caused some to relax but not the Haywoods. Her mother was muggle born and had also married a ‘muggle’, deeming their daughter a half blood, a controversial status in the magical world.

“Penny, sweetheart. Please don’t venture too far. There’s so much you don’t understand just yet, but we live in an unforgiving society and I cannot afford to lose you or your sister. Listen to daddy and mummy whenever possible and do not stray too far.”

By and large, the blonde girl obeyed her parents, whom she knew loved her and her little sister Beatrice. By the same token no child can stand being locked up for too long and it wasn’t long until she practically begged to be let outside.

“Please, mummy! I wanna go outside!”

“Penny, don’t argue with me right now…”

“But it’s so light outside and it’s not even eight o’clock yet. Why can’t I see Scarlet?”

“You know the reasons why. I’ve explained many times.”

“You Know Who is dead isn’t he? What do we have to be afraid of? Please, mummy I can’t stay inside all summer. I’ll go positively mad before I go back to Hogwarts.”

The blonde woman, so alike in appearance to her daughter sighed and finally relented.

“Alright, Penny. But be back before the sun sets. Promise me.”

But the thirteen year old barely acknowledged her mother’s words, too excited to pay them much mind.

“Yes, mum. I’ll be back soon.”

Tying on her favorite sneakers and adjusting her favorite yellow top, she practically sprinted out the door and into the street where it didn’t take long for her best friend to greet her.

Scarlet Wilson was a long time friend since childhood, a vivacious long haired brunette who wore a red head band, with an adventurous streak that rivaled even David Grant and his inner circle. Had she been born with the gift of magic, Penny was almost certain she’d have been sorted into Gryffindor which almost brought a streak of irony into their relationship: despite being best friends, she was forbidden from telling her anything about the magical world or the prospective status of being a witch. That being said, her wand stayed in her back pocket just in case.

“There you are!” Scarlet exclaimed excitedly, giving her a huge hug.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. Convincing mum is always annoying.”

“I don’t get why she’s always so skittish. It’s the best time of year to go outside and do something.”

Scarlet was wearing a light orange dress, with a white collar, ankle socks, and Mary Janes. She liked to dress up even more than Penny did, though her spirit still retained its tomboyishness.

“She’s just weird like that,” Penny tried to dismiss casually. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“I found this cool forest down the road. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside it for years but I already went in today and it’s great. Let’s go!”

“Brilliant!”

And so the girls locked pinky to pinky, something they did since they were eight, and skipped down the sidewalk to the left until they reached the end of concrete gravel which marked the beginning of a sloping, downhill path taking them past several remote more rural homes.

“Scarlet just so you know, I have to be back before sundown.”

“Aww, come on Penny. We have plenty of time.”

“I know but she made me promise and I can’t break that rule. She’s already making Bea stay inside.”

“Your sister is also seven,” Scarlet laughed. “We’re thirteen. We can handle being out this late.”

Penny allowed herself a degree of carefree excitement as she realized her friend was right. There was no use worrying over danger that wasn’t going to happen. She was older after all...though part of her still felt guilty over not being able to tell Scarlet the true nature of the powers she possessed, that was quickly set aside as they came upon the forest, it’s trees tall and bushes thick with greenery with an old forgotten path at the center.

“See? I told you it was cool!” Scarlet said excitedly while they traversed along the narrow way.

Both girls giggled as they began chatting and telling each other stories. Who said boys were the only ones who could enjoy physical activity? The feeling of adventuring was as exhilarating as anything in the world; the light breeze blowing her plaits, the touch of warmth that brought great comfort to her soul, the fact that the sun didn’t set until past nine thirty...it was truly a perfect day to a perfect start of summer. Of course, no summer day, no matter how long lasts forever and soon enough the track of time was lost.

“Come on let’s keep exploring!” Scarlet pushed as Penny began to grow weary. By now the sun had melted behind the backdrop of the underbrush which consisted of numerous trees and bushes. In fact the light was rapidly giving away to darkness.

“Scarlet...it’s getting a bit late.”

“Your mum said be back after sundown. We still have some time left!”

“But…”

It was too late, however. Scarlet had already run further into the brush. Penny was ready to relent to the enthusiasm of her best friend until the crack of a twig in the distance caught her attention.

Peering a little closer, Penny took one cautious step to see what was the matter though her thought process was interrupted by Scarlet.

“Hey, Penny! You gotta see this!”

“What?” she called ahead.

There was nothing to indicate something was off. The tall trees were silent as the grave and gave no indication of hidden evils within. Just...a normal summer’s night with normal undergrowth and vegetation.

But that turned out not to be the case. Penny caught up to her friend and about ten or fifteen feet away was a creature that to the untrained eye resembled a cross between a gray wolf and an emaciated bear. But the young witch knew better. It was a werewolf. Apparently the sun had set and the full moon already rising. Given her ignorance of the danger, Scarlet appeared fascinated.

“Isn’t it cool? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Scarlet…” Penny tried to warn in a whisper. “We need to go.”

But she was interrupted again by her friend’s fearlessness.

“Come on, let’s check it out. Maybe we can report it to the local paper!”

This particular werewolf, an extreme danger to humans in most situations, appeared to be quite meek and so retreated into the bushes at the sight of the two newcomers with Scarlet heading towards it. For her part, Penny knew that was beyond a bad idea but was so paralyzed with fear herself she suddenly froze as her body did not allow itself to go any further. What was she to do? Risk both of their lives? Draw her wand despite being prohibited from using magic outside of Hogwarts? Her mind was racing so badly and yet there was no will to move or act.

‘Take out your wand. Take it out now!’ her instincts told her, yet she did not. A tiny fraction of her psyche hesitated still despite the warning signs. Palms became sweaty and her heart practically pounded out of her chest.

And then it all came to a head so fast, Penny barely had time to process it. A growl issued forth followed by the snapping of jaws, ripping of flesh and a high pitched scream.

“Scarlet!”

It was too late. By the time she reached their location, the wolf was standing over her friend, its muzzle dipped in blood, Scarlet’s unmoving body prone on the ground.

“NO!!!” Penny screeched. All sense of hiding her abilities finally dropped. Rushing forward, wand in hand, she sent the most lethal spell she knew of to get the beast away from her friend.

‘Diffindo!’

The spell hit the werewolf on the back, causing a nasty wound to appear and a howl of pain. Penny didn’t stop there and sent two more cutting hexes, one of which gashed the wolf over the shoulder and down across its chest.

That did the trick in bringing its attention away from Scarlet but it created a new problem in that its vicious sights were now set on her. Gulping, the blonde was suddenly paralyzed by fear and froze for want of a new solution.

‘Come on, you have to get to Scarlet somehow!’

But she barely had time to think as the wolf bull rushed her, bloody sharp teeth brought to bear in an image of gore and horror. Thankfully, Penny was able to jump out of the way just in time and was thus spared lycanthropy or worse. But counting on a lucky maneuver a second time would have been foolish reasoning. Scarlet was likely seriously injured and they both were all alone in the countryside of England.

What she did next was purely instinctual and memory of what she was taught during the first British Civil War. Though a tricky spell for young witches and wizards, the blonde had been shown how to produce red sparks in the event of an emergency.

Raising her wand, Penny issued the sparks at least thirty feet in the air which had a simultaneous effect. Within seconds, her mother had apparated to the scene while the werewolf became spooked by animal instinct. Though it tried to run away, it did not stop Mrs. Haywood from sending a bone breaking curse, partially crippling the beast in a yelp of immense pain, though it continued to limp away.

“Penny, stay behind me!”

But she was no longer preoccupied with the werewolf or even her mother. The only thought on her mind was Scarlet and getting to her in time.

‘We can get her to St. Mungo’s! They treat muggles in emergency situations. It’ll be okay….’

But upon reaching her best friend she found her attempt too little too late. The sight was nothing short of horrific: Scarlet had been scratched across the face, bitten on her right arm, left leg, and torso. But as Penny tried to lift her up she discovered the worst injury of all, a deep seated bite mark around her side near the hip. Placing a hand there, she withdrew it to see it soaked in blood which formed a pool on the ground.

Gazing into the face of her best friend, the final blow was hammered home. Pupils were no longer seeing, the whites glazed over completely. She was dead.

“N-no! Scarlet! Wake up! Please….w-wake up!”

Her stammering pleas drowned out all other sounds. Penny barely felt her mother trying to pull her away from the carnage or the *pops of numerous Aurors arriving on the scene. She didn’t want to leave her best friend. And amidst the full moon hovering in the sky, tears mixed with blood that marked the grass on a tragic summer’s night.

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

“Are you alright, Miss Haywood?”

Madam Pomfrey’s kindly tone interrupted her flashback causing the Hufflepuff teen to crash back to earth.

“Oh uh...yes. I’m sorry.”

The nurse did not at all look convinced, cocking an eyebrow at the distractedness of her patient.

“Miss Haywood, though it was only a boggart, seeing a werewolf that realistic would be enough to frighten anyone out of their wits. I would prefer you to stay longer but in this case I will leave the decision up to you.”

Penny didn’t think twice.

“I’d like to go to lunch, please.”

“My dear I don’t know that-”

“If it’s my choice, I’d like to leave.”

Oftentimes it wasn’t a student’s choice to leave, not if Madam Pomfrey insisted. But given the circumstances, the hospital warden relented.

“Alright, Miss Haywood you are free to go. But promise me you will eat that entire bar of chocolate, before anything else.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The blonde hopped down from her bed, grabbed her bag and thanked Madam Pomfrey once more. But she couldn’t have exited the premises fast enough for once doing so, the emotional tidal wave barely held back earlier unleashed in a torrent of tears. Throwing her back against the wall, Penny wept as silently as she could wishing dearly for her friend back.

Wishing she could have acted sooner.

Wishing it wasn’t her fault.

Wishing she could somehow forget the unbearable pain.

Wondering why luck had favored her to live but Scarlet to die.

Better luck next time.

#penny haywood #muggle friend #tragedy #reverse bang #hphm bang #hphm #hphm fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #werewolf #chiara lobosca #madam pomfrey #nymphadora tonks #david grant

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make-it-mavis · 4 years ago

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Homesick (Entry #35)

(cw: discussion of addiction) ----------

01/23/88 4:02 PM

Hey.

So. I’d admitted that I was an addict.

Which was, as I’d realize in the days after, not just a sentence you could say and be over with. It was an admission to so many things, many of which I’d been trying so hard not to believe over the course of my addiction. That it really was that bad. That it wouldn’t just go away with time. That I could not stop of my own free will. That I couldn’t fix myself alone.

That counselling really was my one chance at beating this thing for good.

Which, in itself, was a scary thought. If it was my last chance, I could not screw it up. And I’ve always loved screwing things up. It’s so, so important that I get this thing right, and it’s been really hard at points to picture myself doing that. Even as early as the second step, I felt doomed to fail.

The second step, of course, is Hope.

Hope that a higher power could save us from ourselves.

Yeah. It’s not that I don’t believe in the Devs. I do, unfortunately. It’s just that I’ve always believed they’re fickle dickwads who don’t give a crit about any of us. They’ve only ever been a source of pain for me. Honestly, I outright hate the Devs. So being faced with this idea that if I didn’t find faith, I could not complete this extremely important counselling, I was understandably more than a little stressed. I didn’t get why that had to be part of the deal. So many of the steps are built around this faith. It’s integral. I had to beg the question: Do only Devout deserve saving?

Fix-it’s response to my spirited rants was to suggest that it did not necessarily have to be the Devs, just a higher power. Something bigger than him or me, some deeper meaning to life, something I truly believed in. Like he, himself, while he is a practicing Devout, places more importance on ‘duty’ than anything else. ‘Duty’ informs his actions, ‘duty’ colors his lens of the world. I probably don’t need to tell you the jokes I made out of that. He didn’t seem to get it.

That widened things up, I’ll give him that. But it widened them too much. I could either pick the Devs, or pull something out of my ass and make a religion out of it. The latter sounds like something I’d only enjoy doing while high, for cuss’ sake. I’ve never been too big on philosophies in general. Partying hard had always been enough of a philosophy for me, but then I went and partied too damn hard and wound up the mess that I was. A junkie with no rhyme or reason.

Step two was looking even more depressing than expected.

On the night before my third session, Fix-it brought out a surprise that he thought might help me relax or cheer up or what have you. He laid down a tarp, a few blank canvases, and gave me an assortment of tubes of paint and scraggly, used brushes. I was a little taken aback. I so rarely use normal, boring, non-magical paint. I was worried that using it would just make me feel worse about my brush still being on the fritz, but I was drawn to the naked canvases anyway. Fix-it sat at the table and watched as if he had put down food for a feral raccoon and wanted to give it space. Having him watch may have bothered me at one point in time, but he had done a genuinely pretty cool thing for me. I’d deal.

And let’s be real -- I am a feral raccoon.

It didn’t take me long to decide what to paint. The one thing that had been consistently on my mind: Revenge on Worluk. All in various gruesome ways. In one painting, I’d ripped her throat out with my teeth. In another, I crushed her with a giant fly swatter. The last one, which was my favorite, showed her dismembered and built into a chair that I was sitting on.

Fix-it said they were all beautiful, and they’d look so good on the shelf in the broom closet. I argued for a place in the kitchen, but no, he insisted that they’d look better in the closet.

As I worked, as I painted the gnarly details on that bug’s face, I couldn’t help but wonder what she had done for step two. What was her higher power? What could she possibly turn to for peace after what she had done to me? The Devs? Duty? Or are there just some things you can never make peace with? That is, if she even felt remorse for it at all. I couldn’t imagine a remorseful pixel in her body.

And then that led to me thinking, of course… What about me? What could ever really bring me peace? I knew for sure that I felt remorse. I definitely wished I had not gone down the path I did over the course of… well, ever since you left. I’d seen and done some really awful things. There was Tapper, there was that poor sap I threatened for a hit of GC, there was… everyone else I’d come in contact with, really. My actions had taken a darker turn than I’d ever gone down before, even in my past pits of depression. My mind was so haunted by then, I didn’t recognize it anymore. Relentless, nightmarish thoughts plagued me all the time. Trauma, guilt, hopelessness, existential questions without answers. Your death, and the blame I placed on myself. My Dev-given, meaningless lot in life. Hatred from what felt like the entire arcade over a crime I didn’t commit, enough to nearly get me killed. All this weighed down on me. It had trapped me. And the only escape I could ever see was in buffs. The thing that I felt the most fondness for, the thing that I had come to long for above all else, was a mind-numbing high. Buffs could save me from my mind, even if they ended up killing it in the process.

That was my argument in favor of the addiction.

I had to find something, anything, that would bring a counter-argument strong enough to hold up. My guilt for hurting Tapper, while it was very deep and genuine, would only have so many legs to stand on. I even remembered my weird, buff-induced conversation with the river, wherein I realized I owed my own survival to you… and to myself. That had been a groundbreaking epiphany at the time. But it was not enough. I knew that. Because I remembered what it felt like to be in the thick of my addiction, and I remembered how no one around me mattered anymore. Nothing I owed to anyone else would make a difference to me if I relapsed and fell back into that state of mind. Neither would anything I owed myself, certainly, not with my self-preservation offline. And in the face of all those facts... I was scared.

I didn’t feel safe. I felt like the floor beneath me could have broken at any moment, and I’d lose control again. I needed something to hold onto that could actually bear my weight, because I had become quite heavily burdened. But I had no idea what that thing could be.

It was so frustrating, nearly enough to bring me to tears as I painted. I kept remembering what Wreck-it told me when we fought, about how I didn’t actually want to get better, how I just wanted to keep using everybody, so there was no use helping me. That in particular stuck with me. I didn’t understand why at first. Maybe that was true when he said it. But it wasn’t anymore.

I didn’t want to be miserable anymore. I didn’t want to be a plague on everyone around me, not really. I wanted to get better. But the means to do so felt like a cruel puzzle I couldn’t solve. Like a battle I had already lost.

Fix-it went to bed, but I stayed up into the night painting and pondering. Even after I was done, I took one of the paintings and began slowly and idly covering it with lazy patches of color. I did some serious soul-searching that night. I tried to harness whatever it was that drove me as a living being. Whatever it was, it must have been old. Older than my knowledge of the Devs, even. I tried to cast my mind back to my very first days and remember what inspired me then, before the Devs’ gospel tainted my life. But I couldn’t come up with anything substantial. Fun, mischief, laughter, all very important things, but no solid foundations for philosophies. Philosophies that could keep me away from substances, mind you.

It seemed hopeless. But I tried to relax with my painting. I took deep breaths and let the color flow, creating no image in particular. Just beautiful, abstract motions that felt self-soothing in the cleanest way I had attempted in a while. It really did feel great to have access to a full spectrum of color again, even if it was real, physical paint and not magical like mine. I so deeply missed having full functionality of my tools. All that time without it, I’d felt like I was hobbling around with a missing limb. I need my color. It’s just embedded in who I am. Always has been.

My very first coherent thoughts after being plugged in were about the color pulsing inside my code.

I froze.

Was that it?

Could that even work?

The force bigger than me, the deeper meaning to life, the one thing that had been with me since the very first second I remember entering consciousness… well, that was color. I see it and feel it in all things, and always have. It inspires me. It does guide my actions, in a sense.

But color? It felt too obvious, almost. It was one of the most important things in the world to me. But could I really pull a philosophy out of it?

I felt cold, but not in a bad way -- more like a refreshing breeze on a sweaty day. But that breeze also felt hundreds of miles high, with me suspended on this one new idea that I had to strengthen before it could break. What if there was something even bigger than the Devs? Something that ignored games, roles, class, age, gender? Something that, if I played my cards right, could free me from the life I felt trapped in?

Something strong enough to weaponize against the Devs’ presence in my mind?

Even kill it for good?

I remember bursting into Fix-it’s room and scaring the bits out of him. I leapt onto his bed and stained the blanket with my paint-splattered hands.

“Color,” I said firmly.

Fix-it stammered, reaching to turn on the lamp. “Wha-- Wha-- What’s-- Mavy?”

“Color,” I repeated. “That’s my higher power. I think. The thing I believe in? I think it might be color.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands raised cautiously, his mouth open in hesitation to speak. “Mavy-- Mavy, settle down, now--” he said, not really registering my relatively controlled demeanor after my very aggressive entrance.

“Don’t tell me to settle down,” I told him. For some reason, I was shaking with adrenaline. I was so unsure. I wanted to be right, but I barely felt like I had an idea.

“Oh, it’s-- It’s just that last time you started goin’ on about color, you went and stabbed your hand with a fork, so, I just wanna make sure you’re not gonna--”

“Oh...” I said, the memories blowing up in my brain. “The kaleidoscope. In my dreams-- trips-- whatever-- the kaleidoscope… Me becoming color…”

I held my sticky wet glove to my forehead, my mind connecting more and more wires. Every thought and memory coming into my head was telling me that I was right. I stared past Fix-it, feeling my heart pound. “That can’t be a coincidence. There’s no way. That all has to mean something, right?”

“C-Color?”

“Yes!” I jabbed him in the shoulder, at which he groaned in pain. “That’s it! My stupid higher power homework. I think I’ve got it!”

I heard him give vague and confused murmurs of encouragement as he sank back down to the pillows. “That’s great, Mavy, that’s wonderful… I’m so… so happy for you...” And he was out like a light, even with the light still on.

Whatever, I thought. Maybe he didn’t understand, but I… sort of did. That was what mattered.

The following night, though, I’d have to put that thought to the test. I went into my third session of counselling with a nervous sweat. I would have to explain my revelation to the group in words, when so much of it was just… how I felt. I’d been running through my speech again and again up until the moment I sat in that circle of chairs, and as I did, I began to doubt myself more and more. I don’t know anything about making solid philosophies, or if what I made could even be considered a philosophy. Maybe my idea was actually garbage, and they wouldn’t accept it. It was so vague. I hadn’t even worked out all the kinks in it yet. I just hoped I would understand it more as I said it out loud.

Stage fright has never been a problem for me. I’m a born performer. But this was not a performance. This was real life. I had trouble opening up like that even to you, and now here I was in a room with sprites I barely knew, including one who tried to kill me. I definitely didn’t like the idea of showing vulnerability in front of her. I didn’t want her to know anything about me.

But I knew the drill. Just deal with it.

When the turns eventually came to me, I introduced myself as an addict, and told everyone that I’d done some work on step two. There were a couple claps and nods.

“Except,” I told them, “I, uh, didn’t pick the Devs as my higher power. That’s not against the rules, is it?”

“No, no, of course not,” Clyde told me. “We have a few others here who also picked their own.”

“Charity,” someone said, waving slightly.

Another piped in, “Honor.”

Then, to my shock, the raspy voice of Worluk chimed in, with just about the most unexpected word I could think of.

“Friendship.”

Yeah. That threw me off. I tried not to raise my eyebrows so obviously at her, but I had to glance at least. I found her still not quite looking my way, but without a hint of shame in her body language. Who the hell was this chick?

I told myself to shake it off. The spotlight was on me, and I had no time to be tripped up by murderous mosquitoes.

“What about you?” Clyde asked me. “Would you like to share?”

I swallowed. Now or never. “Sure. I picked, uh… color.”

Clyde’s featureless brows raised a bit, making my stomach clench in embarrassment. “Really? Well, that’s one we haven’t heard of before. What does color mean to you, Mavis?”

I looked out at the expectant faces. Except Worluk, who was still not looking, which I tried not to read into and just carry on. She could not ruin this for me. I had to be strong and confident, like I know I am. All I had to do was say a few words. It seemed like a simple thing to do, but I felt so damn seen, and I didn’t like it. I saw some impatient frowns from sprites who still didn’t want me there, I saw some eyes full of curiosity over what I’d say, but the rest just looked… neutral. Like I was just another part of the process. Like it didn’t matter to them either way if I fumbled or stuck the landing.

Normally, I’d hate that. But in this context? It seemed to take so much pressure off. It wasn’t about them. It was my step to take, and they were just witnesses to it.

So I took a deep breath, and I just started talking.

“Color is… everything. I mean, it’s what I do, but it’s also who I am. Y’know, inside. Color is the first thing I remember from the moment I was plugged in. I don’t just see it, I feel it. And it’s… I mean, it’s in everything. Almost all of our games have color. That’s all we are at the end of the day, just blotches of color behind screens, and that’s… that’s kind of awesome, when you think about it. It’s something everyone has in common, no matter what game or role you’re programmed into. That makes things a bit simpler, y’know, to think of yourself not as a Good Guy or a Bad Guy or an Easter Egg, you’re just… a living splash of color.”

I wasn’t sure if I was actually making any sense, but to my surprise, I saw quite a few receptive faces even leaning in a bit to listen. They were intrigued, which was encouraging. So I took it a step further.

“As far as philosophies or things to live by, well… It just got me thinkin’ like... I’m an artist. And artists know that every color is useful. Any color can be mixed, or painted over, in any shade, in any shape. And usually…it takes a lot of different colors and shades to make a beautiful painting. So when you’ve been using the same color again and again, just monochrome, or even analogous, like I have… you’re not gonna be happy. There are so many things I’ve believed, so many things that I’ve thought to be absolute truths that have led me to take buffs. Like… I’ve never been into the whole Easter Egg thing. And I thought buffs were the only thing that could save me from that. But… maybe they’re not. Color, to me, feels like…”

I sighed, trying to pull the words out of myself. “...Flexibility. Possibility. An open mind, I guess. A new color is like a new way of thinking. And... there’s always another color. There’s always another way. And… y’know, it’s probably high time I started acting like it.”

There was silence for a moment.

But then I saw smiles, and I heard claps, even some small words of encouragement. They were congratulating me and thanking me for sharing. Even some sprites that had given me standoffish looks before were giving me grudging nods.

I… did it. I did it right.

I could hardly believe it. I felt like I’d just spilled out some of my ugliest, most confusing guts, but they loved it.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. It was too heavy. I was too vulnerable.

But all I could do was… grin.

“Mavis,” Clyde said, “thank you so much for sharing. That’s just fantastic to hear. You’re gonna do great things here -- and remember that even when you stumble, it’s that faith of yours that’s going to lift you back up again. You’re going to have to hold onto it from here on out. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah,” I sighed so hard, it made me dizzy. “Yeah, of course.”

There was a bit more discussion, and the meeting carried on as usual, as if I hadn’t just done something incredible (for me, anyway). But I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to that. Bending myself in unnatural ways to reach this lofty goal of sobriety, and then carrying on as if everything was normal.

Because that was going to be the new normal, after all.

And my first night in that new normal, I tried to find ways to embody my colorful philosophy in whatever small way I could. I looked around at everyone in the circle, and I asked myself to examine the colors that each of them made me feel, beyond what I could see. Specifically Worluk, the one who had been giving me so much trouble, making me so much more nervous than I already was.

To me, she felt… like a toxic yellow. Barely touched with green. Just bright, garish, nauseating and impossible to ignore. While everyone else just blended into each other’s vague, muted tones. It became very apparent just how much I had been ignoring the rest of the group and honing in on her.

Surely, there was something I could do about that.

I wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but I dared to challenge myself with this: If I could not mute Worluk’s color in my mind, maybe I could at least let the rest of the group grow brighter.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #original character #homesick

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paradisecost · 4 years ago

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TIMELINE: ATTICUS

Are you ready for 1600 words of Atticus lore? Then BOY HOWDY do I have some good news for you. I ran out of steam by the time I hit the last few verses so they have way less detail, but whATEVER. I’ve also completely skimmed over so many details (like Atticus’ lingering issues with being cut off from his Indigenous heritage; his father’s disappearance; his relationships with various friends and lovers throughout his life; some of the shit he did and witnessed throughout his time with the gang and in order to escape them; etc) because otherwise the word count would be RIDICULOUS.

Note: There’s no set time period for this. A lot of Atticus’ mainverse is tagged as “v: age of sail” for the convenience of keeping most of my verses vaguely within the Black Sails timeline (1705-1720 usually) but realistically these are probably within the 1800s somewhere. The real question is: who gives a shit, it’s MY sandbox and history is what I say it is.

Under the cut for length. Warnings include talk of gangs, gang life, and so on.

Note: This is VERY much a work in progress and almost no detail has really been hammered out, especially regarding Atticus' time as an outlaw within the gang since I have a lot of research to do in that area (since I know more about modern gangs and cult dynamics than Ye Olde ones). Nonetheless, all of these verses are open for interaction/asks/etc - though verses marked as (intermission) or (segue) really exist more to bridge some verses together.

v: before it all (childhood) (0-13)

Atticus' early, pre-outlaw life, spanning from his birth to the age of about 12-13. He lives with his mother and sister in a small town in the middle of buckass nowhere; his father visits once a year or so up until Atticus is about 10, when he mysteriously stops coming. It isn't long after this that Atticus first becomes involved with the [redacted] gang, likely through befriending one of the younger members by accident. By the time he's about 12, he's built up a steadfast trust and codependence on the group - and his relationship with his mother has steeply declined, in part due to her reticence about his Native father and determination to erase any non-Whiteness from their children, and in part because of how vehemently she opposes his involvement with the gang.

v: drinking the water (gang member) (12-28)

Spans around eight years, from when Atticus is 12-13 to roughly 20-28. Atticus is ass-deep in the cult-like dynamic of the gang and has lost all contact with his mother, though he and his sister exchange letters here and there. He is extremely loyal to the group and considers them 'his people', is inherently distrustful of outsiders and has precisely no interest in living amongst them.

Grievances with the gang's behaviour towards both him and others start accumulating, however, when Atticus is about 18-20. They start off small, but as his sense of self develops and he starts to get more of a feel for who he is as a person, the problems start building up. This may be in part due to exposure to other dissenting members of the group who were swiftly either disposed of or, uh, re-educated; Atticus did not like seeing that shit At All despite his usual cognitive dissonance.

That isn't by any means the only factor; as he gets older, he's also granted significantly more freedom, which results in exposure to all kinds of people and places that he simply wasn't aware of as a kid. By the time he's about 25, he knows for sure that the life they're living now isn't one he wants to keep, but you don't simply leave a gang like that. It takes him a couple more years to a) figure out some kind of plan and b) gather the resources, courage, and knowledge he'll need to pull it off and live.

v: the aftermath (post gang) (28-30)

Somehow, Atticus finds his way out of cult-gang hell. There are no dramatics involved - he simply disappears during a hunt one day, to arouse the least suspicion. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone on the hunt- the gang's leader had sent someone along with him to keep an eye on him, as (unbeknownst to Atticus) his growing resentment and flightiness had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. It's likely that the person sent with him was someone Atticus liked a great deal, as the leader hoped that this would dissuade him from doing anything stupid to get away--

--but needless to say, they were later found dead in the woods, and Atticus was gone. He spent the next two years flitting around as much as possible, trying to get as far away as he could. The gang sent out hunts for him, of course- at first with the intention of simply talking to him and seeing if they could persuade him to come back. After Atticus started killing them off, they sent out searches for him with significantly less friendly intentions.

It's during this time that he takes on the name Atticus as his own. No forename/surname: just Atticus, or Mr. Atticus if folks are feeling polite. It's also during this time that he acquires Bad Jim, a black and white horse that accompanies him for the next several years, often as his sole companion. He buys Bad Jim (then unnamed) from a horse trader entirely legitimately, but pays an absurd amount for him because the trader--according to Atticus--had "clocked [him] as a wanted fella of some sort and wanted to capitalize on his desperation".

(The truth is a little different: the trader had, indeed, clocked him as a wanted man, but he raised the price of the horse to compensate himself for the risk of selling a horse to a possible felon).

It’s during this time that he meets The Captain--then called Amelia--for the first time; the two stay in contact for the remainer of Atticus’ life.

The gang stops actively searching for him about a year and a half in, though Atticus still doesn't let his guard down for a good couple of years afterwards. During this time, higher-ranking members of the gang begin to spread the story that Atticus is dead. In later years, this story will become that Atticus never existed - younger members who join later on have no idea who he is, as to their knowledge, no-one escapes the gang and lives.

v: solo outlaw (30-36)

No longer quite so intensely on the run from the gang, Atticus encounters a problem: he is definitely still wanted by various authorities for his involvement with them. Not only that, but he has no damn idea how to exist outside of them. He makes a few token attempts at honest work--tries taking odd jobs for people, herds cattle and has a brief stint as a stableboy--but in the end, he just can't take to it. Within a few months, he's more or less going off the rails: where before he'd at least tried to steer himself towards being what he thought of as a Good Man(TM), he repeatedly finds himself committing actions he would abhor from anyone else. He tries real hard to find some kind of moral balance between doing what he's good at and doing what he wants to be good at, but alas, the poor bastard's more or less on his own and having a shit time of it.

Other than that, no fucking idea about the details of this verse. He's an outlaw still - he's just on his own instead of with a gang, and more often than not, he takes on jobs from people who need someone killed or threatened.

It's during this time (when he’s about 32) that he meets the woman who eventually becomes Icarus' mother. There's no immediate spark, nothing like that; she neither trusts nor likes him at first. It's when he tells her--a half-Black, half-Indigenous woman--that his father was Indigenous that she first gives him the time of day, and it's long after that, when he talks about his feelings of inbetween-ness and his frustration at being cut off from half of his heritage that she starts to actually warm to him even platonically.

Icarus is born soon afterwards, but by then, Atticus and [I'll think of a name one day]'s relationship has already begun to... not deteriorate, exactly, but shift. They were never really in love to begin with so much as they were good friends who found a comfort in one another they couldn’t find elsewhere.

Anyway the point is, they separate when Icarus is still very small; Atticus is losing direction and feels as stuck as he did before, and his presence is causing more problems than it solves. He vows to stay in touch, though, and he does- and later in life, much of the money he makes from bounty-hunting goes back to his friend and their kid.

It's towards the end of this verse that Bad Jim is killed in combat, during a run-in with Atticus' old gang - specifically some newer, younger members of it that don't know him, but Atticus is able to recognise them. The horse falls atop Atticus as it dies and essentially crushes him to the ground- he's only saved from being completely crushed by the overturned wagon beside him that takes some of Bad Jim's weight. Despite still sustaining severe injuries from it, Bad Jim's death saves Atticus' life: he has no choice but to play dead until the shooting's over and the smoke clears. The gang members give him a cursory check to see if he's dead, but given that they have no idea who Atticus is, they have no reason to do anything but check and move on.

v: in recovery (intermission) (36-38)

It takes Atticus a long time to recover from the injuries sustained in the fight that took Bad Jim; he's essentially forced to find somewhere to lie low and recuperate, and has to rely on the kindness of strangers and mere acquaintances during it.

Towards the end of this time, he also acquires the dog that now accompanies him almost everywhere; an Anatolian Shepherd I still don’t have a name for.

v: bounty hunter (segue) (38-42)

TL;DR; Having recognised that he Fucking Hates being an outlaw but isn't much good at anything else, Atticus finds a compromise: he becomes a bounty hunter, straddling both sides of the law at once.

It's during this time that he he meets Isaiah, who helps him out of several rough patches.

v: bounty hunter (42+)

Just the previous verse but at the default ‘canon’ point in the timeline sdkfjnsdjfkn. All interactions take place in this verse by default, which is often also tagged as "v: age of sail (atticus)". Local cowboy is a sort of bounty hunter, blahblahblah.

#facts: atticus #verses: atticus

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radgivare · 4 years ago

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ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN, 22, MATTHIAS SVERRESSEN. ❝ ⤚⟶ EUROPE, 1458. thanks is given by the DUKE OF SKÅNE & ADVISOR OF THE DOWAGER QUEEN, MATTHIAS SVERRESSEN, from THE KINGDOM OF SWEDEN, CURRENTLY A GUEST WITHIN THE FRENCH COURT. they are at best DETERMINED, and at their worst RUTHLESS. whilst abroad, their ambition is to BROADEN RESPECT, OPPORTUNITIES, AND ALLIANCE OPTIONS FOR SWEDEN WHILE TRAVELING WITH THE FRENCH COURT AND THE DOWAGER QUEEN. HE seem/s to remind everyone of ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN & THICK WINTER SNOW, THE DIM LIGHT OF CANDLES IN AN EMPTY ROOM, THE SMELL OF SPRUCE, AND CRYSTAL BLUE FJORDS. ❞

i swear... he’s the last one i’m bringing in

I have decided to include a rough timeline as this is an original character of my own. CW: stillborn, death, major injury ( just wanted to warn! )

timeline.

1380 : Harald Magnussen is born, and is the oldest son of the current Duke and Duchess. He is raised with an education to be the advisor of the Swedish Royal family, as has been tradition for years. This is due to the family’s great wealth and influence with the people.

1397 : Harald, Duke of Skåne, marries Lady Margrethe of Gotland.

1401 : Their eldest son, Sverre Haraldsse, is born within Skåne.

1405 : Lady Ragnhild Haraldsdottir is born in the Kongsgård estate, though Margrethe dies in childbirth, buried in St. Olav's Church at Avaldsnes.

1408 : Harald has a son, Henrik Haraldssen, with Ingrid Bjornsdottir, a wealthy Norwegian noblewoman.

1415 : Harald decides to marry Ingrid Bjornsdottir, though she is much younger than him.

1419 : Duchess Ingrid of Skåne gives birth to Lady Astrid Haraldsdottir, being the last child of Duke Harald.

1425 : Harald passes due to rapidly declining health, and Skåne passes to Sverre Haraldssen at the age of 24, along with the role of Advisor.

1428 : Lady Ragnhild is married to an influential Swedish noble, who thoroughly supports the prosperity of the wealthy duchy Skåne.

1430 : Sverre Haraldssen marries Gunnhild Ragnarsdottir, naming her Duchess of Skåne, which was a major advancement from being a childhood friend without a title who gained the affections of the King. She is five years younger than Sverre.

1433 : Gunnhild delivers a stillborn daughter, which is upsetting for the couple.

1436 : Duchess Gunnhild successfully delivers Matthias Sverressen, their eldest child.

1439 : Another child is born, Lady Madeleine Sverresdottir.

1441 : A set of fraternal twins are born, which marks the end of Gunnhild’s births: Karl and Andreas.

1447 : Matthias Sverressen suffers a major injury to one of his legs, causing the bone to break. The break was so bad that he now has a perpetual difficulty walking, and uses a walking stick regularly even though there isn’t necessarily pain.

1452 : Despite his physical setbacks, the people of Sweden began to cherish the heir to the Skåne duchy, as it was clear his intelligence and ambition was growing.

1453 : Sverre dies from unknown circumstances.

1455 : Gunnhild suffers from pneumonia, which ultimately kills her. Matthias fully inherits the Duchy and Advisor role. His young age causes others to fill in for him for the time being. He did not travel to France with the Dowager Queen initially.

1457 : At the age of 21, Matthias Sverressen travels to France to accompany the Dowager Swedish Queen, replacing the filler advisor and remaining in their court for the time being, by orders of his role and the Queen.

1458 : Matthias travels to Lisbon with the French court, hoping to broaden his opportunities and spread his reputation.

introduction.

Choose two of four prompts to answer. Each response must be a minimum of 150 words and reflect understanding of both the character and surrounding plots.

What current conflicts does your character face?

As a prominent and young Duke of a country that is not extremely social internationally, Matthias faces the conflict of bringing an attractive reputation to Sweden for the major powers of Europe and the east to consider. The late Duke of Skåne Sverre had wishes of sending his eldest son to a dignified and reputable nation’s court in order to improve bonds with different countries aside from those surrounding Sweden, due to his utmost respect for the Swedish Royalty. He has been taught all of the appropriate etiquette and behavior for the French court, but it is proving extremely difficult for the nobles to accept him and the Dowager Queen, as they are judgemental towards those they see to be useless. Every moment of his stay with the French, Matthias has to improve his status and his right to be within the court with the Queen, even though he has inherited a great fortune. His position is not threatened, obviously, but he must make use of interactions and friendships to advise the Queen and create strategies for prosperity. This causes Matthias to not understand the resistance from the French court and any other countries that may be cautious of the representative of the unfamiliar nation.

Another conflict Matthias faces is with himself, and this is quite personal: he struggles with his religion and the ideals of the Catholic Church. At this point, the presence of Christianity had only been relevant in Norway for a few generations. It wasn’t that he was necessarily against the church, rather he was interested in old traditions as well, and he learned them plainly for the history and stories. He wishes to represent ideals from both old mythologies and the Catholic Church in order to form a stronger nation, and he wishes to do this with the aid of other powerful allies.

What are some potential plotlines you are interested in pursuing?

I would like to pursue any relationships within the French court. Since the French court is currently welcoming Matthias as their foreign guest with the Dowager Queen, it would be interesting to see how certain characters view him. I would like to know if some would think of him as a threat, like the Russians with the English, or if they would believe he would be beneficial to France as they have a developing militia and raw natural resources.

Relationships with characters from the Ottoman Empire/Cordoba/the Spanish Kingdoms could also be intriguing to pursue as well. I think it would be interesting to see what Matthias would learn from these Empires with such different practices than his own, and maybe if they would take anything from his practices also.

The French kingdom houses the Dowager Queen of Sweden, which is a role I would really like to see filled. A relationship with the Dowager Queen in general would be interesting to pursue as, of course, he is the royal advisor and he just inherited this title. I would like to pursue how she would view him, as he is much younger, but has great intelligence and understanding of politics and affairs.

Provide a blurb introducing your character generally. This should include an overview of strengths, weaknesses, aspirations, and set backs. ( Bonus )

Even among the well-drawn characters of Crowns, Matthias Sverressen stands out as a complex fellow. From moment to moment, Matthias can be needlessly cruel and domineering, or touchingly vulnerable. He is genuinely curious in other countries, as 1457 was the first time he ever left Sweden, but he is also extremely determined to show these countries the curiosities of Sweden. He wishes to bring his nation a more recognizable and positive reputation, since he knows the Dowager Queen is not too fond of the country, and since he is a wealthy Duke, he wishes to find potential hands in marriage. He does not have a filter, unfortunately, and is not the best smooth talker in the world. However, he has the kind of personality that causes people to be intrigued after meeting him, since he is an enigmatic type of mystery. Swedish noblemen describe him as intelligent and diplomatic, and he wishes to live up to these titles, but it proves harder when foreign royals are not exactly welcoming to his presence.

three bullet-points.

Please provide three bullet-points describing your character. We ask that you reserve one bullet-point for their personality, but the other two may be used for things like their history, goals, or an event in their life. Minimum 300 words.

This international trip has caused Matthias to realize he is quite the adventurer, and he wishes to improve his knowledge. His charming and appealing nature that comes from his curiosity and artistic tendencies will lead him to form strong relationships and alliances, and this will provoke further future travels. He wishes to be a nobleman that brings more enlightenment to his people, as this will help every aspect of the nation mature. Though, with these positivities, he is also easily over competitive and unpredictable. These traits do not come across as trustworthy to potential alliance members and cause some to be driven away from him.

Matthias Sverressen is not a part of the highlight of Sweden’s military, but he improves their power with the strategies and battle plans for the country. His logical and analytical type of mind has proven to be favorable to many nobles of Sweden, even though he is still quite young, thus improving the support of his position with the Dowager Queen. He is well versed in politics and war games, and he isn’t one to cause unnecessary conflict, but he will demonstrate his skills if need be. He wishes to portray Sweden with a forceful demeanor and will challenge whoever attempts to halt him.

The Duke of Skåne and advisor to the Queen has very close relationships with his three siblings, and since they were not sent to France with him, it has been an extremely long year and a few months. Thankfully, his siblings are not attempting to steal his title, as his sister is gracious and kind and his twin brothers are too young to attempt. They are aware that he holds all of the family’s power and wealth, however; all four siblings know that Matthias would not unjustly use his opportunities and abilities. They all support Matthias being the Duke of Skåne, as he is a headstrong and bold figure.

#crhs.intro #!!!

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pineaberry · 5 years ago

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Fictober 2019: #15

Star Wars: The Old Republic.

Inspired by all the Quinn love on my dash, here it is:

The Transponder Station Pt. 2 aka Why Pissing off a Sith is a Bad Idea: An In Depth Analysis.

Pt. 1 Found Here: [X]

For all my Quinn fam:

@sunsetofdoom, @fluffynexu, @doomhamster, @riajade01, @aliyamirat, @kunoichi-ume, @cinlat, and the great @semper-draca

________________________

His actions were precise, she would give him that much. She’d often teased that he could remove someone’s lungs without as much as a drop of blood. The assessment would prove correct as both droids advanced and sought to corner her. He had meticulously written each line of code, each weapon designed to seize on whatever opening she left. All too soon she felt the burn of a blast nicking her side as she swung an arch a bit too wide. Her heart raced as she realized how naked and exposed she was without him. For too long she had been blind to how much she depended on his skill to clean up the edges. Now, with him standing impassively, she could see just how easy it was for someone who knew her so intimately to poke through the holes in her defenses. A multitude of emotions swirled around her like a maelstrom: anguish, fear, rage, despair. Yet she knew that if she allowed herself to drown in them, she may as well shut off her lightsabers and accept her fate.

Volatile emotions had always been a particularly toxic element of the Dark Side. Hatred, cruelty, and rage had a way of igniting destruction chaotically. She had used them before sparingly wielding them like a controlled explosion. However, in her current state, control was a hindrance she could ill afford. She needed chaos to circumvent the killing machines so attuned to her fighting style. And so it was that she reached into the void and the blackness she had vowed never to abuse.

His stomach was in knots as she saw her fight. It would be over in five blaster shots. She would never know how much he loved her. She would never know how thoroughly he he had broken his vow to Baras for her. Darth Baras had demanded her head the moment Draagh had been destroyed and it would have been easy for Malavai to comply. He could have tainted her kolto infusions, or murdered her through hundreds of different ways as she slept in his arms. Instead he lifted his blaster, the same she had gifted him, and aimed at her shoulder. How much of her destruction would come from the very kindness she had crafted for him?

One…

Two…

The first shot struck true and he saw her fall back. Guilt rose like bile in his throat and the second shot went wide, deflecting off one of the droids. He felt ill wishing this to be over, and yet, when he looked into her deep blue eyes he knew: He would die soon. He raised his blaster once more as his heart and his mind warred for supremacy. His head ultimately won and his fingers squeezed the trigger.

Three…

Another blast, perfectly executed pierced through the opening she’d left. It was the gap he had defended countless times in the past. It was the same gaping hole in her shield he would have given his life to protect not fifteen minutes ago. He felt nauseous and his only solace was the constant mantra promising it would be over quickly. His body once again reacted with a sickening ease as he spotted more cracks in her defense.

Four…

She reeled and one of the droids landed a blow. To those facing her she had been as unstoppable as the rising tide. Yet he knew every twist of her form, every hum of her weapon. He alone could perceive the weaknesses no one else could, and so of course, Baras would choose him to execute her. Darth Baras had always lured him with promises of grandeur in return for his patience and blind loyalty.

All too late he realized, he didn’t want this. A traitor’s death at her hands was merciful. He deserved to suffer. His heart felt as though it would rupture. The pain spread from his chest as he heard her lightsabers hiss and hum frantically.

He had to remind himself why he was doing this.

Balmorra was a means to an end, he was a pawn being hidden away from other players in the game. Even his mission with the Wrath was just a way for the pawn to navigate across the board until he could strike. Now was that time. Baras had begun gathering his power and there was no place left for an apprentice who would one day threaten to snap her leash.

Revolution was coming. The Empire was changing, it had to or it would certainly fall to the Republic. Baras had only confirmed what Malavai and many other officers already knew: The Emperor only cared about the Emperor. While his empire and subjects were at the brink of collapse, he had run off on scholarly pursuits that would do nothing to alleviate the resource shortages. Consolidation of power was the only viable option. But consolidation behind whom? Baras? The man didn’t know or care about anything that didn’t feed his own ego.

Consolidation would come, yes. The Empire would rise but it would be Lord Tremas who would lead the charge.

Unfortunately, such a revolution meant sacrifice.

He was beholden to Darth Baras but the man was quickly weakening. His terror was not misplaced. Lord Tremas would soon end his little charade and after today she would be cleansed of all weakness. He would obey Darth Baras, as was his duty, but he would forever belong to her. He would die to eliminate the crack in her armor.

Malavai’s heart screamed in agony as he saw the first lick of blood on the floor. He had destroyed the only person who had ever cared about him. He was betraying what he held most precious. For the Empire. It had to be done for the good of the Empire.

He took a frantic breath realizing he was already too far gone into the abyss to know how to pull away. He had to make this quick. He had to be the one to do it, not out of hatred or deceit, but out of mercy. It would be better this way.

Five shots. Only one more… one more and it would all be over.

My life for yours...

Five…

The blast echoed so much louder in Quinn’s ears than all the others before it.

The final blow came with sickening precision and a blinding flash of light. She screamed like a feral beast as her pain and rage bubbled over. Time seemed to slow as Dark Force energy focused and gathered within Tremas’ form. The red laser blast had slipped past her defenses and burned into the left side of her face marring her porcelain skin. She twisted away before it could do any real damage. Her movements were a blur and shower of sparks scattered over the ground as she tore out one of the machine’s legs with a vicious crush of raw Force. Her entire body was rippling in savage power.

With a start, Malavai stepped aside as bits of droid littered the floor. Dread coiled around his heart as he saw her straighten for the span of a breath before lashing out. She fought and slashed madly at the machines like a rabid manka cat. Her movements were little more than a streak of color and, before the programming could compensate, the first droid fell torn to pieces. She stood triumphantly stepping atop the mechanical corpse. The second droid advanced, turrets firing. Crimson blasts clipped her shoulder and thigh, but it only seemed to enrage her more. Quinn ducked as he saw a pair of violet crescents fly from her hands as she cast out her lightsabers towards the attacker. The droid’s primary weapons were cleaved in half and it stumbled back now crippled and damaged beyond repair. She plucked her weapons from out of mid-air as they were recalled and she stormed up to the damaged droid. She clenched her lightsabers tightly as she summoned a tidal wave of dark force energy to blast at the droid. The dark pulse burst forth like a weapon in its own right and slammed the battle droid into the far wall denting the metal plating and crumpling it like tissue paper under the impact.

She shook with ill contained fury before turning to her betrayer. His blaster remained in his hand but, like a prey animal suddenly caught in the presence of a ravenous predator, he stood deathly still. Her eyes bore into his, smoldering in fury and hatred. She stormed up to him as her lightsabers hummed at either side, as though daring him to fire.

It was over. He knew it was over, just as his calculations predicted.

Her mind was a whirlwind. Had he foolishly confused her mercy with weakness? All of his supposed admiration and devotion, had it all been a lie to hide his condescending thoughts? She had raised him far above his station, far above HER to the point where she depended on him. Oh how amused he must have felt each time she deferred to him. How he must have reveled in keeping a Sith Lord like a simpering dog vying for his approval. How easily he led her to the slaughter in a noose fashioned from her own idealist interpretation of love. She lunged at him and his shield generator flickered as her lightsabers made contact. He was jolted into action and he attempted to move away, shooting haphazardly at her as she continued to slash at him. Her wrath was clearly visible, but her power was fueled by pain. Gone were the numbers and all of his meticulous planning. She was chaos incarnate and he was forced to use depend on sheer instinct to stay out of her reach.

Memories bled through the red haze of her vision and tore at her soul: his flustered mannerisms, his discreet smirks, their first mission together, his touch on her skin, their first embrace, their first kiss… all of it a lie. All of it had been nothing more than the machinations of a bloated spymaster in Dromund Kaas.

She would not be manipulated.

She would not be mocked!

Each tainted memory physically manifested itself with a vicious strike of her blades. He fought back desperately using his blaster hoping she would be forced to exert her efforts on defense rather than attack. Yet he knew no amount of knowledge could ever make him a match for a Sith. His blaster soon ran out of ammunition and he tossed it aside worthless. He drew his vibroknife, a laughable action. Soon he was cornered and his shield generator wavered as it was depleted. One more stroke and it would end.

Malavai’s gaze then flickered behind her and she spun about just in time to block a mutilated droid’s desperate attempt at crushing her with a cross of her violet sabers. She all but growled before throwing the immense war machine back in three pieces. Dark crimson energy flowed around her in wild deranged patterns visible to even the most force-blind creatures.

She spun about and her blue eyes were burning crimson as she met his gaze. There was a moment when neither of them moved and Malavai realized she was regaining control. He had to give her a reason… he lunged fully expecting to be speared by her lightsabers but the pain never came.

Instead, he felt his blade enter her side with a sickening ease. There was a hum and he released the knife just in time to avoid losing his hand. He stumbled back onto the floor disarmed and defeated. The severed handle clattered and skittered across the room.

Malavai looked up at the Sith Lord he had so deeply wronged and only now did he realize his mistake. She should have blocked that. It was easy. Simple. Clean. She should have been able to block that!

The Wrath loomed over him, her mind’s focus sharpened to a lethal point. She would not be weak, not in front of him, not ever again. He would learn through pain since patience seemed to have no effect on him. Her gaze burned as the dark side corruption tinted her eyes a brilliant reddish gold. This betrayal could not stand unpunished. An example had to be made. Discipline was the core of the Imperial Military, and she would bring him to his knees. He reeled back cowering from her while holding his side. Her mask had fallen and the terrible sith beneath filled him with more dread than any audience with Darth Baras. She had let him stab her. Why? Why wasn’t he dead? Why had she... How could he have gotten so much so wrong?

“I should have known…” he uttered frustration and defeat evident in his voice, “I thought I’d programmed the perfect killing machine for you. I was painstakingly precise.”

“After all your calculations, all the time we’ve been together, have you not realized that I am unbeatable?” she spat with disdain as her burnt orange eyes bored into his wavering gaze.

He didn’t recognize this Sith Lord. Her features were hard and mottled damaged encircled her left eye. There was no warmth in her voice, no life. The gentle core he had believed her to possess had in-fact been durasteel. She was not some meek child playing among the stars. His lord had simply learned to control her darker tendencies behind a mask of oblivious kindness for her companions’ benefit... And he had repaid her considerate accommodation by ripping it off. Regret overwhelmed him and he bowed his head in shame.

“I’m at a loss,” he whispered, “I have betrayed you, conspired with your most hated enemy. I know it is meaningless to express my deep regret. I don’t expect your mercy.”

Her eyes flashed red and a dark twisted voice echoed within her thoughts.

Mercy. My mercy. Sith have no mercy. To the very end he mocks us, laughs at us in defiance.

Teach him respect. Make him beg, and plead, and grovel! TEACH HIM HIS PLACE!

Let him die laughing.

He felt a spike of raw terror as he inadvertently detonated her rage.

“It’s useless to defy me,” she growled before unleashing a feral triumphant burst of power which cast him into the far wall. Like a child with a rag doll who had caused some perceived slight, she tossed him aside before letting him crumple to the floor.

He managed to pull himself to his feet but no sooner had he turned to face her when he was met by her piercing gaze. Blood red eyes glowed menacingly before she raised her hand in a claw-like gesture. He had seen that motion many times with Baras and it had often sent fear through his heart. Her own gesture when executing a force choke was sleeker almost delicate, but this time it was different. There was true rage behind the action. A new sort of terror flooded him as he realized that he had never witnessed her execute a force choke before, but the ease with which she did it betrayed practice. Fear and panic set hold as a coil of intangible power constricted around his throat.

He was dying… just as he planned...

Malavai fell to his knees before her as she extinguished his life with the same ease one could blow out a candle. The last thing he saw was his lord’s scarred face twisted in anger. Her eyes, once so warm and blue, were now blood-red with corruption. She was Sith, as cold and vengeful as the darkest of them. As his vision dimmed and he felt his life slip away, Quinn could only feel horror at what he had forced her to become.

Now he knows… now they will ALL know...

She observed him claw at his throat in vain and it soothed her vindictive edge. His body twitched as he choked and gasped for a breath that he would never draw. Tremas saw the terror in his blue eyes before they fluttered closed and she released him only once he’d collapsed in an undignified heap.

He felt a rush of power and she closed her eyes to let it flow through her.

Power. Control. Subjugation. It feels good. It’s been so long…

She stretched out her arm enjoying the sheer rush of power at her fingertips. Her kind facade had evaporated. All of her self-imposed rules and social etiquette were tossed aside. That particular mask lay discarded and the monster beneath could finally breathe.

Yessss... That’s what I’m talking about.

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