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tammulberry · 8 months ago

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MIRACULOUS GENESIS | The 1st Season of the Miraculous Dynasties AU by T.A.M. Mulberry begins

SYNOPSIS OF THE SEASON: Miracle Jewels were once widespread throughout the centuries as they traveled through worlds and through dynasties. However, when the rise of machines came, so did the fall of miracles. The new world had long forgotten the old ways as capital cities soon advanced to reach for the stars. After a mysterious rumbling was detected in Paris, a hopeless romantic with dreams of being a fashion designer and a famous teen celebrity collide the new world with the old world.

This is the return of the century. The return of the Yin and Yang. The origin of Ladybug & Cat Noir.

Years of the Yapping™ started in 2021 finished in ?

RATING: PG-13 WORD COUNT: 2.8k+

CHAPTER 1. The Invisible String

Long ago, before the rise of machines, there were miracles…

For centuries, worthy heroes were given jewels that granted extraordinary magic from beyond this world. There are two miracle jewels, however, that stand on top of the hierarchy. The Ladybug of Creation and the Black Cat of Destruction. Juxtaposed for eternity — as one cannot live without the other.

Legend has it — that when both these jewels are used at the same time, one will have the power to alter reality itself.

“Are you willing to pay the price of absolute power?”

***

Along the many dark alleyways of Europe, an old Chinese man walked swiftly as if he were being chased. He had a red hibiscus shirt and board shorts underneath the long coat he wore in the chilly evening. On his back, he had a heavy knapsack.

“I can feel the tug, Fu! We’re almost there!” A small floating creature that resembled a ladybug whispered excitedly.

A string was shown to be present in the eyes of the creature. It was vibrating towards one source. The source that the strange crew had been following for months.

“Patience, Tikki. We must proceed with extra caution. We may never know who could be watching!" A floating creature similar in appearance to a turtle scolded. He seemed to be the same species as Tikki.

Just then, the frantic running stopped. The string was connected to an old crusty mansion that led to nothing but forested grounds. On the outside, it seemed to be abandoned as the vines were left to grow, the fences had paint falling off and the tall gate was full of rust. Nevertheless, it had shown signs of being beautiful once and Fu stared in awe at the sheer size of the mansion.

“So, this is where the string leads to…”

"After all these years … the Qiji of Destruction laid dormant here," said the small turtle creature in wonder.

Fu glanced at it with a knowing look, and the small creature bowed as Fu said, "Wayzz, Scute Down."

A magical energy traveled down his entire body and he transformed into a suit with the attributes of a turtle. A circular shield was on top of his head for good measure.

"Tikki, where does the string lead to next?" Fu asked.

"I think it's … I think it's inside the mansion!"

Fu contemplated before he took action. It was a gamble on their part. While the mansion looked abandoned, there is no saying that there isn't someone in the small village that was on to them. They needed to be careful.

"If you can feel the tug — then Plagg should be there. We'll retrieve him, Tikki. I promise," he reassured her, and they prepared to sneak in from the back.

Just as expected, the mansion was covered in vines, rust and dust. Luckily, Fu’s suit protected him from any dangers that lay ahead.

But not only was it armor — it also granted him superhuman abilities.

They stopped below a balcony that led straight to the string. Fu grabbed one of the vines and swung it with enough force for him to roll inside. Except, it didn’t go too well and his landing went wrong as he fell splat on his face.

“OW!” Fu groaned.

“Are you okay, Fu?” Tikki asked, concerned.

Crack! "Why, of course Tikki. I may be in my 70s, but I'm still young— ! Ow… right in the tailbone…” he rubbed his back in pain, which completely contradicted his previous statement.

“Don’t worry, I can still function. Good thing Wayzz is here to keep me safe.”

And so the old man and Tikki continued their search. Not a sound could be heard with each step he took. Fu could assume that the mansion was from an era before the rise of machines. Ornate doors that stood as tall as small trees, covered in dust. Statues that were in ruins. Curtains worn and torn. Elaborate paintings from moments forgotten in time.

As they shuffled through cobwebs and the occasional rat, they opened a door that was relatively smaller than the other ones they passed. They were in what appeared to be a storage room. It was dusty and cluttered. Much like the rest of the mansion from the outside.

"For such a beautiful mansion, it's really filthy," Tikki said, as she flew into even more cobwebs.

“Nevermind that now, Tikki. Now, we must look for Plagg!”

As they continued their search, Tikki felt a tug. This time, it was much stronger than the previous ones. She looked around frantically and discovered that the string led to the next room.

"Wait, Fu! It's in the next room!" Tikki whispered.

"Brilliant, Tikki!" Fu exclaimed.

After all these years, he was excited to see Plagg, the Qiji of Destruction. Fu had heard many things about him and if the legends were true, then he’d be face to face with the universe’s most dangerous force. It was fascinating to think about.

But … at the same time, it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. To him, it meant freedom. To him, it meant the guilt he had been feeling for decades will finally be put to rest —

CREAK! In his haste to get the job done, he moved recklessly within the storage room towards the door to the other side. The worn out wood of the floor squeaked loudly. He cringed at the sound in contrast to the almost heavy silence of the storage room.

“WHO GOES THERE?” an unfamiliar voice boomed, and the both of them panicked.

Fu and Tikki ducked beneath broken cabinets and cobwebs. Fu crawled as far away as he could from the voice. The latter was about to scold him for making that mistake but he shushed her. The two of them listened intently. Was someone following them this whole time?

Yes, admittedly, he already knew that going into an abandoned mansion like this was a gamble. In fact, he didn’t want to go here in the first place. There were rumors that a kind old man would tend to it every now and then so he thought he could play the part, but…

"They were here longer than us…" Tikki whispered in his ear.

The tension started to rise when they heard the doorknob twist. The two of them were hiding behind a grand piano and a curtain in one of the corners of the room. They prayed that they wouldn't get caught in a police search. Anything but that.

Just then, it opened. With Fu still being transformed, his senses were heightened, and he heard two pairs of footsteps walk into the room. He tried to peak from where he was but all he could see were vague silhouettes.

One of them seemed to be wearing a full suit with a tailcoat. The other looked to be in more casual clothing as he held a flashlight. And so the more sophisticated of the two spoke, "Has someone infiltrated the mansion?"

The other one surveyed the area more thoroughly, and Fu could hear his footsteps getting closer. He may not be in the best condition but he was still capable of defending himself through Wayzz. Fu tried to curl himself into a ball only for his back to betray him once again.

I hope this isn't permanent, he thought to himself.

As he braced himself along with Tikki, the man with the flashlight replied, "I can't seem to find anything."

"Very well. It must have been a false alarm," said the man in a tailcoat calmly and he looked up. "Perhaps a light bulb fell…"

Relief washed over Fu and Tikki as the former slumped down. He could hear the two men walking back to the exit of the other room. Fu peered over to get a better look at the two of them. Luckily, their backs were turned.

The refined young man coughed a bit as he walked into cobwebs. He swatted away at them and Fu couldn't help but feel amused.

"We must really renovate this storage room. It is an absolute mess. Just like the mansion's exterior."

"Agreed, sir."

Tikki nudged Fu. "Now that we know there are people in the mansion, we need a new plan."

"You're right, Tikki," replied Fu, as quietly as he could. "So — do you think we can sneak in from another route?

"I'm not too sure. I can't make it that far without the Ladybug Miraculous near me."

Fu observed Tikki as she concentrated. Her previous holder was not the most creatively adept person out there. A few moments later, Tikki jolted in the air.

“Tikki, what’s wrong?” he asked

"I don't understand — the movement is getting quite rapid," she said confused. “It's like someone is running and jumping.”

At the same time, when the two men opened the door. They noticed another silhouette at the entrance. One that was shorter and resembled a kid. Fu had the height of one himself so who was he to assume?

"Hey, boy. What are you doing staying up so late? And why are you here?" The sophisticated gentleman talked down to the silhouette.

"I'm not sleepy. What's the problem with me staying up late anyway? You don’t even come and play with me.”

That was most definitely a young boy, Fu thought.

"Do not question my rules, brat. Know your place. Now go on, shoo and return to your mother."

“Fine!” the young boy sneered and he slammed the door on the other side of the room shut.

Something seemed to click in Tikki as she tried to rush towards him.

"Wait a minute, the ring! It's on that child!" she whispered frantically.

“Tikki! Stop, they're going to hear us!” He yelled as he tried to grab onto her but immediately clamped his mouth shut as the two men looked around the place and at each other.

"We should call a medium to this place soon. I believe it’s haunted," said the man in the tailcoat.

"It's twelve in the morning, sir," the other man replied.

And so the door slammed shut once again. Everything was dead silent. The swaying of grandfather clock’s pendulum was the only sound Fu could hear as his ears started to ring.

“There’s still a chance to retrieve Plagg!” Tikki said but she was immediately stopped by an invisible force. The force that prevented her from going far from the jewels she was bound to.

“If we follow this string then maybe we can—”

CLAC!

“Oh, this was such a fun game of hide and seek," said the man from behind the other door’s entrance.

Fu wasted no time as he felt his life flash before his eyes.

“CARAPACE!”

He broke the window and part of the wall with the expanded circular shield as he hastily grabbed the box. Tikki’s trail followed suit. He landed on one of the bushes and rolled out. A spherical shield had formed around him. A shield that no mortal machine can penetrate.

As he rushed to the entrance, he looked around and noticed that there were more guards coming from the ground floor from both sides.

Did they already know someone was breaking in? Where did they come from?

“Fu!” Tikki yelled. “We can still go back there! The carapace can take on a thousand bullets! You have to fight!”

An unpleasant memory flashed in Fu’s mind but the adrenaline from the sound of gunshots kept him focused on running away.

“Nevermind that now, Tikki!” He answered back. “We need to keep running! They might track me down if I show my face!”

They were nearly out of the mansion. All he had to do was bulldoze through the gate and he can detransform somewhere safe enough to look like an innocent bystander.

Fu thought it was futile for the guards to continuously fire their ammo, but little did he know that there was a crack in the carapace. It was like time slowed down the moment he saw the first hole on the shield. The look of horror on his face as he wondered how that was possible.

I’m sorry, Tikki…

His desire to be free from the guards overrode anything else and he managed to break through the gate. He ran, and ran, and ran until he reached a forest outside of the mansion’s territory. It was guarded by thick trees and bushes that light couldn’t pass through. He kept himself transformed in case they used their weapons again. Fu could hear the guards as they walked in the direction that he escaped, his ears muffled by the intense ringing. He hyperventilated and prayed that they would stop looking.

He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not in a state so pathetic.

He overheard the man in the trenchcoat talking to what seemed to be the head guard of the mansion. “We need to issue a search party. What did the man look like?”

“I wasn't able to see his face clearly, sir.”

In the brief silence, Fu thanked the universe for Miànshā—the veil that managed to keep the identities of jewel holders hidden.

“However, I suspect he is one of those people.”

That silence was broken as he flinched at the light. “We need to issue a search party. We don’t know just how much that man saw. But if he is what you think he is, he can’t be left alive.”

The color left his face as the men walked in the other direction.

He can’t be left alive…

If he’s caught… then he’s going to die…

***

Four hours had passed since the fiasco at the mansion. Fu had detransformed. He, along with Tikki and Wayzz, found themselves in another dusty old shed in the countryside. They were able to hitch a ride on a train far from the mansion.

They were safe, at least for now.

Fu was afraid. Something wasn’t right about that place. Even a fool like him could tell. It seemed like no one was there when they snuck in but once the man in the trenchcoat knew, it was like the guards on the ground floor appeared out of nowhere.

“You understand the situation, right? You’re a wanted man now, Fu,” his Qiji, Wayzz reminded him.

“I am aware of that, Wayzz,” said Fu, agitated. “What I don’t understand is how those guards managed to damage carapace. It’s supposed to be impenetrable to machines and technology, and—”

“Fu. Those guns they were using had Mogui energy in them. Those weren’t just ordinary mortal weapons,” explained Tikki.

“But that’s impossible…” Fu got up from the haystack he sat on.

“Do not tell me what’s impossible, Fu. I know what I saw and I know for a fact that the mansion is hiding something more sinister than we realize. And you ran away.”

“I know! I know…” Fu said as he tried to calm himself and Tikki looked at him intently.

“How long are you going to run, Fu?” She asked him sternly. “How long are you going to keep up this act of bravery? Feeding us false hope? It has been decades.”

“I’m afraid I agree with Tikki on this matter, master,” said Wayzz ruefully. “Perhaps if you stayed and pursued Plagg then—”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Fu snapped and they stayed quiet. He couldn’t bear to hear the words of Wayzz or Tikki any longer.

"A hundred years to both of you is like a blink in time. You cannot die but I can! You don’t know what it’s like to fear dying! If I didn’t have to die then everything could have stayed the same as it always was!”

Wayzz and Tikki did not answer back anymore and Fu let out a deep breath as he slumped in front of the haystack, his hands on his face.

“We cannot go back there. I don’t think we can stay in this country any longer,” said Fu, more to himself than to the two of them. “If we manage to escape outside their borders, we will be outside their jurisdiction.”

Wayzz and Tikki looked at each other, as if they pitied him.

Fu started to regain control over his own emotions as he remembered something that made him smile again. Even after all this time.

“Wayzz,” he started as he looked at both of them. “Tikki.”

He looked at them half-heartedly. A million questions, a million memories, a million regrets flooded his mind but there was one that resounded in his head the most.

“Are you going to run away again?”

“It is time for us to go to Paris.”

Perhaps he had ulterior motives. Perhaps it was born from the primal desire of not wanting to die. There were many things Fu feared but to die without atoning for his mistakes terrified him the most.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Note:

I'm so excited to share my passion project with everyone. I've been working on it for over 3 years now and it's about time that it got published.

This isn't really a rewrite of the show per se but the beginning does follow the origin slightly before completely going off the rails in the next few chapters. This is just an exploration and my attempt at trying to make a living, breathing world for these characters because I really enjoy the quantic universe and I guess this is my take on it if it focused on one magic system specifically.

Some notable differences will be the age range and the target audience. This AU is not really for younger kids like the original show and that is why the main cast's age range in Dynasties is 18-20 as the story starts with them in their last year at Lycee Francoise Dupont.

There will also be some changes in terms to keep it consistent with the Chinese mythology that the magic system is based on (ex. Kwami is changed to Qiji) and a lot of changes and additions to the magic system like the powers or weapons to fit with the lore of the Dynasties AU better.

Hopefully, there will be people who can enjoy this silly little fanfic series of mine and I thank you so much if you do!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous fandom #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #master fu #miraculous tikki #plagg #wayzz #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #writers on tumblr #fanfic

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ofdeference · 1 year ago

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Anonymous asked: As soon as it caught sight of the Turk, the cat began to follow him, its green eyes fixed on his every move. As dark as the void, its sleek body moved gracefully, almost as if it were dancing to a silent melody. The regal demeanor and striking appearance were reminiscent of its newfound master. It is often said that a cat chooses its owner; he could only acquiesce to the terms that the cat had set.

The dreaded grocery day. The period in which he hadn't expected to be on furlough so long he'd need groceries to supplement the empty spaces of his refrigerator (of which there is a vast overstock). In essence he is staring down the few bags he's carrying as a waste as, inevitably, he will be called away for longer than it takes the perishables to perish.

Yet starving oneself in wait of an assignment seemed madness and when faced with the conundrum, the decision to take the potential loss was the more favorable. Performance on the job would suffer if all he could think about was the next meal.

On his journey home, the feeling of being followed settles over him, drawing his hand to his pocket where it rests for the duration. Halfway there, don't try it. He's not in the mood.

A few blocks more. Persistent? Very well, the keys won't rust if he cleans them after. They draw, clutched in his hands like a knife and he half turns to greet his soon-to-be assailant with a half hearted sigh.

There's no one there.

A black shadow languidly sidling along the ground catches his attention and he tilts his head to get a better look. Vivid green eyes peer up at him from the dark corner where the street light doesn't touch and he blinks.

"You? Well, no wonder I couldn't hear a single footstep. I'd thought it was-" Well, it wasn't. They wouldn't dare come into the city. Not this far in. The Turk kneels, bags dragging along small rivulets of water stagnant and stale.

"You don't have a home, do you?" Sleek and a coat well maintained, it was hard to believe. Thin enough it was a certainty. A wanderer, perhaps? He hadn't seen the creature since moving in.

"Are you hungry? I was going to cook a Behemoth steak if you're interested. Wait right there. Won't take long." Only the insane cook fine slices of meat like this longer than it takes to sear the outside and so it isn't very long at all that he returns to the cat with two plates. Each with their own pile of steak strips, one smaller cut than the other. And as they eat he finds himself talking.

To a cat.

"I wouldn't make a good home for you. You'd never see me. Trapped inside all day, running out of food every time I leave the house. I'd get you killed. Whereas you seem to be fairing better out here. Begging any and every poor lonely sap for a meal and-" He sets his fork on his plate and stares into the absence of space for some time.

"I'd like it if you lived nearby..." Maybe he does need a companion.

#Anonymous #Tseng dealing with existentialism and the fact that #he'll eventually die alone if he doesn't change anything?#All because of a cat?#More likely than I thought.

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caracteresolaires · 1 year ago

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character aes

i never did one of these for tiffany and she's been here well over a year (and had a bf for exactly one year) so i figure it's high time she gets one of these

[ COLORS ] crimson. red. brown. orange. yellow. green. dark green. olive. khaki. shamrock. blue. dark blue. purple. lilac. pink. black. white. teal. mint. silver. gold. grey. metallic. matte. cream. ivory. beige.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. fog. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. magic.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples. athletic. lanky.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. bow. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. telepathy. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words. wealth. knowledge. charm.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. grain.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. wildflowers. flowers. petals. thorns. weeds. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. birds of prey. singing birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. rats. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. livestock. foxes. jackals. martens.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. bitter. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. ice-cream. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. house plants. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. boxing. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. running. freerunning. exploring. yoga. meditation.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. heavy armor. medium armor. light armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. secrets. lies. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. kisses. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. cautiousness. compassion. practicality. chivalry. tradition. patience.

#character aes #ch: tiffany holliday

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blogzzs-world · 3 months ago

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Ranger Exhaust Mods: Enhancing Sound and Performance

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psalm22-6 · 3 years ago

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The set up of this article is so funny, just imagine walking randomly at night and running into characters from les mis. And why do they say that Grantaire is known for having a cold? Did they just combined him with Joly?

[Source: Image Magazine, 1933]

Let’s start this article with a sampled note, in a noble style: “It was during the horror of a dark night…” No stars, but every five or ten seconds, strange brushes of light flashed across the sky. In the distance, I am compelled to note that the air, like the earth, was impregnated with water, the frogs called back to the toads. An owl’s cry alternated with the trills of the nightingales. Nice setting for a scheme, hmm?

That’s just what I was thinking when, turning around a ruin, I perceived a camp. Yes, a camp: five, ten men, posing without mistrust who, in open country, were warming themselves around a wood fire.

How suspect! I did what you would have done: I advanced like a wolf, I was practically crawling, and I hid myself just in time behind a tree, so that there would not be two shadows…the shadows were speaking. Let us listen.

“Enjolras…”

(Remark that that name, really, is truly difficult to pronounce)

“Enjolras, yes, that’s really him: a wild Antonius, serious, full of faith, with tumultuous hair. As for Marius, we needed a handsome young man. Finally we have him, with his haughty face, pensive and innocent, his sincere and calm air. And Grantaire, is that him with his perpetual good humor and including his head cold…Not to mention Gavroche: It’s was truly for him that the word whirling was written, an almost irritating ability to be in two places at once that fills the air… And on to father Mabeuf, the specter of 1793, in person…”

Behind my tree, I didn’t understand much: this conversation, at this hour, at such a location--these enigmatic words and their bizarre assignation, from the shadow’s voice I could hear that he was underlining certain special words…but the voice became hushed, two shadows moved away…I listened to the men from the camp.

Even more strange: their outfits dated to the previous century. Tall curved hats, fitted coats of rust or green cloth, casaquins, plaid waistcoats…the favorites of the carbonari. Where the devil did I get lost to!

“Say then Enjolras, when will you recite verse?”

“After father Mabeuf!”

“No no, Marius, he’s been dead since yesterday.”

“Grantaire, I don’t recite any more: I’ve been dead since yesterday…But it’s not over for me. I still have more to film.”

“And waiting doesn’t tire you too much? I ask because you don’t look very rested.”

I pinch my arm: however, the dead are speaking, this isn’t a nightmare! The “father Mabeuf” begins speaking again:

“All the same my friends, 1830, it was a famous era, with magnificent boys…I would have liked to have lived then...we had more heart then, before the war. We loved beautiful things, poetry…

“Do you believe that Cailloux?”

I’m understanding less and less: father Mabeuf is also called Cailloux, for he responds

“Well, in the times of the Black Cat, we also loved poetry. Ah! Delmet…Marcel Legay…So, one day…”

The words float over to me: “30 years of theater, almost always with Gémier, 10 years at the Odéon…They joked that I had a ‘dog’s life’....Why! I really loved the Pekinese. And you, Vidalin, how much time did you spend at the Odéon?”

“Five years at the Odéon…”

The one who responds is the wild Antonius, with the tumultuous hair---it’s Enjolras, whose hand plays carelessly with a saddle pistol.

Oh well. I’m risking it all. Have courage, for heaven’s sake! Image magazine demands it…I advance towards the camp, and I can make out, from the glow of the hearth, from the dancing flames, the people’s characteristics. One by one, they appear as they had been described earlier by the fleeting shadow. Resounding exactitude. It’s them. Mabeuf, Enjolras, Grantaire, Marius, Gavroche.

But also, it’s Cailloux, Vidalin, Azaïs, J. Servais, le petit Genevoix...there is no scheme, no nightmare. It’s just five actors from Les Misérables taking a break to warm themselves. What a bargain! I take out my notebook. I latch onto Jean Servais, who is the same age as Victor Hugo’s Marius and has the same air of a serious daydreamer however Jean Servais has not stepped out of a book. He stepped out of the Conservatoire of Brussels and he was seized by the cinema as soon as he came to Paris, performing in production of the famous Mal de la Jeunesse, at the Œuvre theater (he played Criminel: Marius will be his second role.)

“Tell me about Les Misérables!”

“I read it when I was 13 years old, in a giant edition, big like a dictionary…So at that age, I must admit that it tired my arms more than my brains. Happily for me I have re-read it since then. But ask more of Azaïs.”

Paul Azaïs, in the role of Grantaire, is the terrible skeptic, a funny guy. But in his real and permanent role, he takes advantage of the fact that nature gave him the face of a “bad boy,” he is not an easy person. His anguished expressions have often permitted him to play with rare intensity Apachean characters, such as in the films Faubourg Montmartre and Paris la Suit, and on stage in les Messieurs-Dames. But behind that expression, he carefully hides the soul of a Parisian urchin--He was born on the rue Chàteau-Landon, where tenderness and fervor readily outweigh cheekiness.

“Oh! For me, it’s not a joke,” he says, “I cry while reading it…As for my role, I am so much my character that, for moments, I am not playing the role, I am living it…look, proof!”

And Paul Azaïs who, decidedly, does not want to soften, laughs, showing his nose and his left hand. On one is a gash, on the other are five grazes that bleed “for real.” The gash he received from a saber’s blow during the filming of the scenes depicting the riots in the days of June 1832. As for the grazes…Azaïs tells us of their origins:

“This…(let’s say this animal, a bit-player), he had to attack me, in the scene on the barricade, with a blow of a bayonet; I cried to him ‘Look out! Aim well, don’t hurt me’ ‘Don’t be afraid, I’m aiming, I even have landmarks.’ In the first take, a jab. I say nothing. In the second take, a second jab…I repeat ‘aim well’ and he responds for his part, with a magnificent accent from Toulon, ‘Don’t be afraid, I’m taking precautions!’ The third take, the third scrape…Luckily we stopped at five. If not, with all his precautions, he would have killed me!”

“You would have been believable in les Croix de Bois!” (Azaïs actually was one of the principal actors in that film from Raymond Bernard and based on the unforgettable book by Roland Dorgelès)

“And that will teach you, for having wanted to be an actor! For that, I don’t see what or who could have stopped me. When I remind myself that I abandoned the noble sale of umbrellas to work at the Châtelet as an extra…If I hadn’t advanced since them, what a hailstorm that would be!...”

“As for me, I certainly adore the theater; but I must admit that the cinema has a hold on me.”

The one who pronounces these words, in a warm voice, is Vidalin. He would have been wrong, clearly, to complain about the theater: so young, after having been a student of Silvain and of Duflos, he marked his place at the Porte-Saint-Martin where he played a unbelievably fiery Buridan in la Tour de Nesle at the Odéon Theater, where God and the rehearsal registers alone could say all the roles that he played, then at the Comédie-Française where he was one of the most brilliant members of the company.

“Is this your first role in cinema?”

“In a way of speaking yes, but I was the Camille Desmoulins in Abel Gance’s Napoleon…but I am ‘taken.’ The cinema asks for so much natural movement…What a school for actors! It is concerned with more than just the scene: It puts us into the skin of the character. And it is so favorable to friendship, to good comradery; more so than theater, because here we don’t play before the public. Oh! The cinema: let’s remember Antoine’s cry of alarm upon the constant decadence of the theater in the face of the continuous rise of the cinema: ‘Now that the cinema has words, soon it will leap!’”

“But you actors of the Comédie-Française, that doesn’t make you sorry? And you admit that even the screen is asked to restore the great, classic works?”

“Why not? If it’s well done?...Refusing to adapt classics to the screen would be the equivalent of refusing to play Moliere with electric lighting! And yet, I put Racine above all else!”

“Bravo, Vidalin!”

That’s M. Cailloux who, to show his approval, has ceased recounting his memories of being a manager and actor to Jean Servais.

“Bravo, Vidalin!”

Ah! But! Am I hallucinating? That voice there, that’s the voice of Michel Simon! I turn around: No Michel Simon. But Azaïs looks at me out of the corner of his eye…I remember how he imitated the astounding clo-clo in a piece of boulevard theater….

A torrent of whistles soar through the air, while ten projectors inundate with their purple-white light the camping filed and reveal, just nearby, the old Paris, brought back here by M. Renier, the decorator. The break is over. From all over, the extras come out, while the whistler grows impatient. But a voice appeases him:

“Don’t worry yourself, Jim! We’re coming!...My word! You’d think he ate a train, that man!”

#Les Miserables #Enjolras #Grantaire #Mabeuf #Marius #LM 1934 #my translation

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robbingprince · 3 months ago

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Chapter 7 now up!

Halden was a sizeable town, but by no means large. The fortunate location near the river Glomma allowed it commerce with inland Patras, Vask and even Akielos: the houses and establishments represented that to a mild scale. Here, a columned tavern advertising long pipes and khalis; there, a tarp-covered shop dedicated to Vaskian coupling liquor. Apparently the local delicacy was something called fist crab, which inspired a wary sort of curiosity. Laurent catalogued all he came across, slipping between shadowed alcoves to avoid the milling drunks outside the taverns.

Slipping was a generous term. Laurent’s usually controlled movements were disastrously uneven. One could say he was wobbling between alleyways, and even that would be sugar-coating the matter. Putting one foot in front of the other was a battle of wills: Laurent versus his legs, seemingly desperate to burst into flames. Laurent won (of course), and charged on, merciless. It was possible he developed a slight fever.

The high street was busy even in this hour, ship-crews and those who made good coin out of them. Laurent took a small detour to the waterfront, marked the four boats that looked easiest to sneak onto. He hid behind a rotting plank and listened to a truly mind-spinning hotchpotch of languages, managed to assemble some sort of schedule with a wide margin of error. One boat would (possibly) be departing in a couple of hours. It did not leave him long. But it was doable.

The residential part of town was far quieter, and mostly Patran in style. Further away from the sounds of lute, the smell of ale and fried crab, the general wine-scented hollering, there was only the moonlit cobblestone, and Laurent, on his search. White nightgown and red scarf, the ghost of Halden.

He should have kept better grasp on his surroundings.

Blame the fever; as he marched himself through the streets, he was aware only of the damned presence around his neck. The collar, too horrible to bear in mind, too tight to forget. He could not tolerate it a second longer. He needed it off. He needed—

A sound from behind had him whip round, a grand gesture, needless and costly. A cat. It was a cat. Black and white and pointy-eared, and still very much a cat. Laurent slapped himself, once, a ringing plea to regain his focus. Distractions and inattention, fever and broken body would come after. First he had to do this.

The smithy, he learned, was half-hidden behind the shoemaker’s shop. Nonsense directions from Eilert, of course, who had been to town four times, making him much more important and well-learned than Laurent. Laurent, laughing, conceded his victory, and Eilert did mope less afterwards, and even gave him this snippet of information. And here, behind the—cat—a sign. With a bad drawing of a boot.

“Thanks,” Laurent said, taken aback, and hurried out of the torchlight.

The smithy was a crumbling longhouse built bizarrely of metal that gave halfway in to rust. It was impossible to locate a door, and there was no light behind the windows. Abandoned, or worse, Laurent thought, and looked for a place from which he could break in to try and do it himself. Sure, without seeing the collar—and true that he lacked some experience with a blacksmith’s tools. But then again, how difficult could it be?

What Eilert failed to mention was that on the other side of the smithy was Halden’s worst, and only, brothel.

Because Laurent was Laurent, he arrived at this conclusion at the worst possible time. No, to be entirely honest: first, because he was Laurent, he made an already complicated plan blindingly elaborate, and hid his horse in the outskirts of town for reasons he could barely care enough to trace back.

And so without a horse for emergency evacuation, and too far from the water, he could only watch as the brothel’s door cracked open, expelling a man. He was a ginormous specimen, fairly foreign to the calm night. Laurent recognised him immediately, although the same could not be said for Govart. His face took a long moment to stretch from a scowl to an open O of shock, and then settle into a smirk.

“Well,” he said, “if it isn’t our little princess.” Already he was too close.

Read the rest of chapter 7 on AO3!

what if I promised it will all end well? As in, in the end. Will it make you feel better? 😔

Well-polished

Laurent was just deciding whether or not he should bother staying alive when the door opened.

“Oh,” said the man who entered, “You’re awake.”

Laurent said, “Yes, quite,” and turned as far as he could with the chains, which was not very far. There was nowhere to conceal the rock he had sharpened, and so he closed his fist around it. “Should I not be?”

“Pardon?” a step towards him, and another. He could not see a face, couldn’t raise his head high enough for it, but the torchlight still fell on polished boots. A large man, probably very tall.

“Did you need me asleep. I could pretend, if it helps. I can be very convincing.”

“Can you,” somewhat amused.

Laurent made himself frown. “Yes, I have the snoring down to the dot. Shall I give you an example?”

“Please do.”

Closing his eyes to a slit, Laurent said, “Snore.”

The man gave a bark of laughter so hard it startled them both. “Oh,” he said, afterwards, “oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to—yes, that was convincing indeed.”

“Are you speaking in jest? I can’t see your expression. The collar, you know, it rather impedes the motion of my neck.”

A breath travelled between the stone walls. It was a small cell, sound should not echo within it—and yet. “I cannot unchain you,” the man said. “I don’t have the key.”

“Right. Was there another reason you came, then? Now that you’ve been convinced of my snoring.”

“I… well. I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“All right,” Laurent said flatly.

“Yes. I’m aware the question is rather silly. But you were obviously beaten badly before you were brought here, and I wanted to check if you were treated.”

“Treated?” Laurent swallowed a whole host of unhelpful remarks. “No bones were broken, if that’s what you mean.”

“No. I mean, I knew. I wanted to see if you were treated for pain.”

That stalled him for a moment, as he was possibly shocked, or more likely disoriented, unable to find the point of deceit. It was difficult to divine true motivation out of boots, no matter how well-polished. If he wanted to get anywhere at all, Laurent would need a face.

“I am not,” he said, “in much pain.”

“You are aware you’re still bleeding.”

“Yes, thank you. I never said the stickiness was pleasant. If you had a spare cloth I would be most grateful.”

“I—” the boots came closer. “Will you tell me your name?”

Laurent rolled his eyes to the floor. “Do you normally take prisoners without verifying their identity.”

“No. No, I don’t. You are not my prisoner.”

“Ah. Of course, as you are not the one with the key. You’re not simply employed by my captor, either.” The quality of leather suggested high-born at least. “In that case, you are either a co-conspirator, or.”

“Or?”

Laurent allowed himself to straighten up marginally. It hurt like a bastard in his shoulder, possibly re-opening the knife wound, and did not allow him to see above well-defined, stocky shins; it was, still, something he could do. “Or you are here to decide if you’ll help me.”

“Help you,” Boots said. “I cannot help you.”

“Because you don’t have the key,” Laurent said. “Yet.”

A long silence stretched between them, somehow also echoing in the small chamber. Perhaps the cell had grown when Laurent was unconscious; perhaps it had blown and blown until it was humongous, a cavern or a palace, empty and gleaming. Waiting to be filled with sounds, most likely screaming. The imaginings were strangely soothing; Laurent had to recall his wits before he lost track of this very important, possibly course-altering conversation.

“I must leave,” said the horribly non-cooperative owner of the boots. “I will be back. I’ll bring water. And some food.”

“Very gracious,” Laurent said, genuine and inordinately annoyed. “I will be right here.”

A choked sound, some shuffling, then the creaking of the door. Before it had the chance to close, Laurent said, “It is Laurent, by the way.”

The man almost ran back to him. “Pardon? What was that?”

“My name. You asked. If you’re still interested, it is Laurent.”

“Yes. Yes. Laurent.” In the part of conversation where a proper gentleman would give his own name, the man said, “Thank you,” and left, shutting the door carefully behind him. He seemed to possess that key, in any case, which meant he could probably obtain the other.

He was not a small man, which might be problematic when it came to one-on-one fisticuffs. Feet that large, and shins that thick, and the voice that came deep and sure: the man was either a giant, or a very near thing, and he was probably well-versed in fighting on top of it, because that was just Laurent’s luck. He would need more than simple strength to outdo him.

It would be much easier to plan with a face.

Read the rest of chapter 1 on AO3!

#alternate universe #mystery #secret identities #lamen fic #captive prince #wip update #humor and agony #not worse than canon. but not nice either about the TWs

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kim-miyeon · 4 years ago

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Hell Above-Chapter One

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin X Female Reader

WARNINGS: Mafia!AU, strong language, violent scenes, use of weapons, mentions of blood, mentions of sex trafficking, murder, suggestive language, sexual scenes, unprotected sex. 18+ Please.

WORD COUNT: 6.8K

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This is a Wasteland, My Only Retreat.

The faint roar of the vehicle engine rumbled lowly as you sat in the driver seat of your car, both of your hands resting softly on the steering wheel. Your annoyed sigh released itself as your head turned to look at the sleek folder that laid in the seat next to you. You smirked to yourself as you averted your eyes back to the rusted standing building in front of you. The allure of the night caused the whole scenery to match the mood of this dreadful evening. Your eyes scanned over the area surrounding, four black cars parked to the left side of the building, the whole estate heavily guarded with about fifteen men, the soldiers. You stared for a bit before looking up to your rearview mirror and allowing your eyes to observe you. It was almost cliché the way you looked for the part you played. The way your features could kill a man alone and you knew that better than anybody. Reaching your hand into your purse that sat on your lap, you pulled out an item that was set to complete such a look of power, your blood red lipstick. You moved closer to the rearview to get a better view as you applied a layer of the tint on your lips, bringing your character to life. You rubbed your lips together and cleaned around the edges before your eyes naturally diverted to a dark figure walking towards your car. You groaned in annoyance as you unbuckled yourself and grabbed the folder to the right of you. Turning your keys in the ignition off, you opened the car door, throwing your legs over onto the pebble ground, where the heels of your black boots met. Your whole appearance could have blended into how dark the night became as you wore black jeans and a black sweater, paired with your favorite black trench coat. The only color that could be determined was the deep red on your lips and the silver gun that hung by your side.

“YAH Y/N!” the voice of the figured called out and you heard the thick accent of an Australian native come through

You slammed the car door shut behind you as you inhaled the cool freshnes of the autumn night. Shifting your direction to the young man walking closer to you. He had a slim figure, soft blonde strands that fit his small face and hints of freckles that coated him. On a usual day, he would be smiling and spreading his contagious positivity. But on nights like this, he was different. We were different.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked sternly, voice low and accent deep. You walked towards him with the folder in your hand.

“Is that anyway to greet your elder, Felix?” You smiled back playfully, shoving the folder into his chest. He grabbed a hold of it flipping through the contents before looking back at you.

“How did you find out?” he sighed in defeat.

“Well, I heard you caught a mouse,” You said as you started to walk towards the building, with Felix following, “the cat wanted to play.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Y/N, you know you can be comprom-”

“Cut the bullshit Felix,” You waved your hand, pushing away the topic. “Just tell me what you know.”

Felix groaned and you looked over to him, stopping both of your tracks, “He was one of the associates. Caught taking pictures and asked too many questions.”

“Is that why the soldiers are here?” You asked, arms crossing over your body.

“Mhm. We don’t know which associate can be trusted, and didn't want to create more trouble.”

You squinted in confusion at his statement and Felix bit his lip as if he was debating to reveal anymore.

“We think he might be working with ‘Y’.”

Y. The alias name of a mystery person who has had multiple failed attempts in trying to reel you out. Or reel out whoever they can in all honesty. Pathetic and yet intriguing, as you and your family have been on the hunt for this mystery person for the past 6 months. Your interest spiked up to the new found information.

You laughed sinisterly as you turned back to walk towards the entrance of the building. “God, I love a good Friday night.”

“Y/N, I’m serious. You really shouldn’t be here. We don’t know the multitude that ‘Y’ is working on,” Felix pleaded.

“So we find out.” You stated.

“We are. YOU just can’t be here because Min-“ you stopped in front of the door to the warehouse and you turned around to Felix who cut himself off from finishing his sentence.

“Because what, Felix.” You gritted.

Felix sighed and looked at you.

“Minho doesn’t want you here”

You clicked your tongue and scoffed in disbelief at the sentence. You felt the blood bubble in your veins as the adrenaline from anger rushed through you.

“Last time I checked, Minho wasn’t my fucking boss.”

You marched up to the warehouse doors and pushed it open. Felix following you as you both walked into the dark and musty place, smells of decaying animals and blood surrounded you immediately, which could have bothered any normal individual, but the smell was too natural for you.

Straight ahead was a dim light shining on a profound scene. Your sight was captured by a man tied to a chair, hands cuffed behind him, blood hanging from the ends of his hair dripping down his cheeks and arms. Barely hanging on to whatever life he may have left, he raises his head to a man who you assumed performed such a violent assault. The man’s brown hair was sweat ridden and he wore his white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up. On his hand sparkled a set of brass knuckles that he wiped off with his handkerchief. Walking closer, you witness the man as he swung his forearm back and connected another blow to the captured man's face, earning splatter of blood to the floor and a grunt from the victim. You scoffed softly as you approached such a disappointing scene.

If it weren’t for the loud clicks of your heels to suggest your arrival, it could have been the dark demeanor you had when you came into the lit area and the man looked at you, first in surprise and then annoyance. It was hard to admit, but he was attractive, his muscles bore through his shirt and pants. His face was one that could ruin a woman. His dark sweaty hair stuck to his forehead from the work he put in for the night. He scoffed when he saw you and you crossed your arms over your chest and smiled at him.

His eyes switched his gaze to Felix who approached behind you.

“You had... one job.” Stepping forward and raising his finger to emphasize Felix’s one job of the night, implying that it was to make sure you weren’t there.

Felix bowed his head in an apologetic manner and you laughed as you looked down at the floor and the back to the man.

“You’ve been relieved of your duties for the night Minho, you can go.”

He laughed at you and came closer, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” You stepped closer to him.

Minho paused and looked at you as you held his gaze sternly. He finally let up, cursing in the air, understanding the consequences of disobeying you.

Minho turned to grab his coat and walked away calling out for Felix to come with him.

You breathed out in content and removed your coat. The man sitting in the chair raised his head slowly as he had heard your heels come closer to him. You grabbed his bloody chin and forced his head up to look at you as you examined to damage Minho had done.

“Tsk tsk tsk, he really did a number in your face.” You let go of his chin and he hung his head low again.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?” You smiled at the question asked, “I can be whoever you want me to be.”

The man raised his head slightly as he saw you walk over and grab an empty chair, pulling it to sit across from him. You sat down and crossed your leg over the other one and pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket, along with a lighter. You pulled a cigarette out with your mouth and lit it as you inhaled deeply. The smoke burning the back of your throat, almost sobering you for a second.

“Who am I?” you reiterated, “ Well truthfully, I don’t think that’s as important. I actually came here cause I wanted to get to know you more”

“I already told the man before that I don’t know anything.”

You sucked in air as you pulled the cigarette out from your lips “See I could believe that, however, I know that’s not true, right... Danny?”

You paused as you saw no reaction, “ … or is it better to call you...SungHo.”

He looks at you in immediate terror and you smile, inhaling another drag.

“How do you-“

“Kim SungHo, father to two beautiful young girls, Mina, 3, and Hyerin, 5. A loving husband to Kim Ji Hye for 10 years. Congratulations, your anniversary was last month right?” You asked innocently as you watch the man in front of you begin to widen his eyes to your knowledge.

You pulled another drag from the cancer stick, “A former professional photographer. You had your own business that went bankrupt, right? So you opted into your dangerous pleasures to feed your girls, huh?”

“I was just doing what I can,” He mumbled.

“Life in prison without parole. I heard they were even considering the death penalty for the men they found, men like you, right SungHo?” You scooted closer to him as you watched a tear roll down his face.

“Did you like taking photos of those girls? Did you like watching them beg for their lives?”

He cried and choked on his own tears as you stood up and flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it to put it out.

“Tell me who you work for SungHo.”

“I can’t” he choked out.

“Oh SungHo, you don’t want to make me mad. I’m worse than that man before. Way worse.”

Sungho just cried and you grew intolerable to the minutes that past as you waited for information. You knew that beating him the way Minho did was foolish. So you did the one thing none of those bastards could ever. You grabbed your gun and cocked it back aiming for his head as he cried softly. You notice the lack of adrenaline, the almost inviting acceptance he was having to a moment of death you could implicate. So you moved your aim towards his groin.

“STOP! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” he screamed.

“Tell me who you work for Sungho, my patience is at an all time low.”

“I DON'T KNOW HIS NAME, HE WENT BY Y!”

“What did he want?”

“HE WANTED TO KNOW IF THE LEE FAMILY WAS STILL OPERATING, HE ASKED ME TO TAKE PICTURES AND FIND OUT WHO THE BOSS IS. TOLD ME TO BECOME AN ASSOCIATE TO DO IT!”

“When’s the next time you’ll see him?” He paused and you lowered your gun and fired a gunshot right into his crotch. He screamed in pain and you aimed your gun back at his head.

“ANSWER ME!”

“HE DIDN’T SEE ME, HE CALLED ME. TOLD ME TO GO TO THE TRAIN STATION AND DROP OFF MY CAEMRA BY THE HOUSE WITH THE MAILBOX!” he cried out as he looked down and saw the blood dripping from his crotch. “PLEASE, HE SAID HE’D KILL MY FAMILY IF I DON’T DO THIS! PLEASE!”

You stepped back and relaxed yourself as you had found all the information you needed. You stood back looking at him as your mind thought back to the kids he had. You can’t protect them y/n. You watched as Sungho cried out in the pain as he bled. Your curiosity got the better of you in the moment as you twirled your gun.

“Did you find out who the boss was?”

Sungho breathed out heavily,“I took pictures of the man before you.”

You smiled in disbelief, “and you believe him to be the boss of the Lee Family?”

“The associates say that he is the only one they have seen and fits the description of the son of Lee Won-Shik.” He looked up at you and your face went pale.

That name. One that you knew too well. Your father’s name.

You aimed the gun back at his crotch and fired another bullet in anger. SungHo screamed and gritted as blood began to pool from his groin area, surely ending whatever reproduction system he had left.

“I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING.”

“I know, it’s a shame.”

The pain you inflicted caused you to wonder how painful it could have been. You just watched him bleed out and scream as he begged you for help. You turned and saw the camera lying on the table and you walked over to pick it up. You scrolled through pictures of Minho leaving offices and greeting people, people who worked for your family for years. Any leakage of this information could be detrimental. The whole thing put a sour taste in your mouth.

“Unfortunately Sungho, you won’t be dropping off this camera tomorrow.”

“NO, NO, PLEASE!”

“It’s a shame. A man who watches girls younger than your own daughters be taken from their families and exploited in such a distasteful manner… makes me sick.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You walked over and you cocked your gun back again as you aimed the gun to his head.

“Also, Lee Minho doesn’t run this family,”

You turn to Sungho who was crying in pain and pulled the trigger of your gun watching his head fall back as blood and pieces of his head splattered, coating the wall and floor behind you both. You move away and placed your gun back in your holder as you turned back to grab your coat, walking toward the exit. Leaving Sungho’s dead body to bleed out.

“I Do.”

**********

Outside, you see four men talking as you closed the large door behind you. Their views shifted on you and you watched as Minho walked up to you in anger.

“Three gunshots. You killed him.” He spat.

“He saw my face.”

“I had everything under control.”

“An interrogation that lasted two hours is your version of under control? What kind of questions did you ask Minho? What kind of camera does he use? Can he get you a deal at Best Buy?” you mocked.

“Like he told you anything! You were in there for 30 minutes and now we have a dead man and no information, I bet. I bet you killed him because he disrespected you as a woman! I know that really gets your blood boiling and you act like a deranged child!”

“Do you want a demonstration?” You grabbed your gun and aimed it at him until you hear a yelling from behind Minho.

“GUYS SERIOUSLY.” You turned your eyes to the boy who yelled out at you and sighed as Minho began to relax is demeanor. “We are family, we shouldn’t be fighting like this.”

“Seungmin’s right, we could be in a world of trouble and we need to work together now.” Felix reassured as he walked up to you and Minho and pushed your gun down.

You walked up to the group as Minho avoided eye contact with you. You stood next to Seungmin who was looking at you with caring eyes. You smiled because he was the type to always bring down the heat of conversations and make everyone regroup. Next to you stood a smaller boy, with blue hair. He had a soft fox like face and you smiled at him as he admired you.

“What information did you find?” The younger one asked you and you nodded.

“He worked for ‘Y’ in exchange for immunity to his crime charges to come later this week. That camera is supposed to be delivered tomorrow at the train station on the west side but unfortunately there’s been a delay.” You looked the boys who were nodding their heads all except Minho.

“And I saved both of are asses tonight, Minho. The associates are talking a lot among themselves, they believe you are the alleged son of my father. He has pictures of you meeting with secret partners. Had I kept him alive, our secret would have been revealed and the Hwang family would had found you, not just ‘Y’.” You informed.

“Thank you.” he muttered.

“Everyone report tomorrow 9 AM sharp. Seungmin put together a strategy plan for going forth on the ‘Y’ issue. Felix dispose of the body near the train tracks, make sure you make a note for ‘Y’ to see. Minho,-”

Minho looked at you carefully having calm down from the interaction earlier, “Kill all the associates. None of them can be trusted.”

The boys all parted was and the youngest member stood by your side looking to you innocently. “What would you like me to do?”

“I need you to go find Sungho’s family and bring them to safety tonight. Don’t tell the others about it Jeongin, keep your tracker on. Take your soldiers with you.” Jeongin nodded and you hugged him close as he went off.

You walk towards your car and your phone dings in your coat pocket. You pulled it out and read the message that flashed across the screen.

“Just got on to my connecting flight, see you soon ❤️-HJ”

You smiled and put your phone back into your pocket, as you opened and sat in your car, ready to go home.

*************

You opened the oven and was blasted with a rush of heat as you removed the roasted potatoes in the pan and placed it on your stove top. The sound of the ongoing sizzle was still coming from the potatoes drowned out by the soft playing of jazz that you had in the background on your speaker. To the left of your view was the piece of steak you had searing on your pan. It had been a while since you had a nice home cooked dinner. It had been a while since you two have eaten together like this. It had been a while in general. Since you last saw him, leaving you a kiss, one that you still remember fleshed on your lips, and watched him drive away. Just the thought of you two being in the same room made your stomach flip. He was captivating in the sense that he could make you drown in his aura and remove everything around you. It was like you were light like a feather, floating around him, and he was the gentle hand that caught you every time. You blushed to yourself, deep in thought as you began to place the food on the plates you had grabbed from the cabinet above you, remembering how incapable you were when reaching all the dishware in your house, becoming grateful for the way he towered you and helped you in these moments.

You just missed him. And it was difficult for you to admit to yourself that he made you feel secured. There was always fear when you thought of him and how you felt towards this man only to be reminded of how deep of a hole you dug for yourself. Your heart ached every time you had to remind yourself what your true mission was, what the point of this relationship meant. And yet, you pushed it all away. You turned an eye to the ratchet truth because you needed more time. It was a constant fight between heart and mind. Playing a double character all this time exhausted you even when you felt like you were completely and unapologetically yourself in front of this man.

You carried the plates over to your small dining room table and placed them at each end. Stepping back, you absorbed the smallness of the dining room area in your home. You laughed as you took in the lack of luxury in the space, and the lack of luxury in general. You lived comfortably, you never felt drowned in bills, you never went hungry. You had a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in. And yet, if anyone were to ever find out about your true income, they’d wonder why you opted to live in a one story house on the north side of town. You were able to buy the whole damn country if you wanted to. You were able to live a life of luxury and protection, but this is what he wanted. He wanted to show you that he is not who he really is and you acted like you didn’t know what he did, who he was. All these years, he played a character too. That’s how you knew that he loved you the same, if not more. You knew that in order to be with you, he had to tell you, because you had to know what it meant when you took his last name. But in his secrecy, you saw the need of protecting you from a world you already knew so much about and also the aching to hide away and be normal.

You sighed as you reached over to the bottle of wine you had on the table. You unscrewed the bottle and grabbed your glass as you poured yourself a decent amount of red lush. You raised the glass to your lips as you walked slowly to the mirror on the back wall of your dining room. You looked at yourself, watching how the simple silk black dress hung loosely down your chest. Smiling, as the silk draped over your breasts teasingly and stopping just inches from your knees. Your hand caressed your collarbone, down to your chest as you rose your other arm to bring the glass of wine back to your lips. You drifted your eyes from the mirror to your drink as you took another sip of the sweet liquid. It was almost alarming the way your attention was brought back to the mirror when a figure appeared in your peripheral. Your eyes widened in shock as your breath sucked in rather quickly. You looked at the man through the mirror, as he stood long and tall. Dressed in a pair of freshly pressed black slacks, a white long sleeved satin shirt, and blonde straight hair that was tied in his most comfortable form. Half up with two strands caressing over his face. His complexion was such a creamy tone and had a natural airbrush effect. His thick pink lips were painted on his face with intent to make a woman go insane. His eyes were sharp hiding his dark orbs that made your heart flutter.

Ethereal would be an understatement to describe him. He simply was created by all the gods.

He smiled softly at your longing gaze through the mirror, sticking his hands in both of his slack pockets, tongue drifting over his bottom lip naturally.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you managed to choke out as you turned around swiftly to now face him.

“Should I have knocked?” The sound of his voice was honey and danced through your ears. It almost made you shudder. You exhaled a breath at his comment as he began taking small steps towards you, looking at the mess you made in the kitchen. “What’s all of this?”

“I made dinner.” You sat the glass of wine on the table as you felt your skin tremble with anticipation as he made his way over to you.

“What did you make?” He was so close, voice dropping volume as he walked closer to you.

“I-I made s-steak and p-potatoes,” closer.

“Mmm,” he hummed and got closer.

“and s-some salad-d…” closer.

Until there he was, in front of you. Eyes finally connected, his natural scent and cologne invading your sense of smell, you wanted to drown in it. The heat of his body could be felt on your own as he kept taking steps, making you stumble back until your back was against the wall. He removed a hand from his pocket and placed his fingertips on your forearm, brushing softly, slowly and teasingly dragging his fingertips up your arm as you felt goosebumps form.

“I thought maybe we could, sit and eat..”

Fingertips now close your neck, grazing over your shoulder blade. He tilted his head and his eyes looked down at your body and slowly came back to match yours. He hummed at your words and you eagerly let him stroke over your sensitive neck. It felt like years since you’ve been touched and the thought of him taking you, all of you, flooded not just your mind, but your core.

“That all sounds very nice but,” he paused as his fingers slid up to your chin pulling it gently to face him as he started down at you. He was now centimeters over your face, you were convinced you could already feel his lips graze yours. “I’m actually craving something a bit more….sweet.”

You were almost in euphoria, your mind was clouded with anticipation and desire. Lust was dripping down your legs and you were falling down a hole. Everything around you went black and it felt like it was just you and him. You barely heard the words that came out of his mouth.

“there’s ice cream in the freez-“

“Just kiss me.”

You nodded frantically as he pushed into you against the wall. One of his hands slamming against the wall, the other wrapped around your waist as he brought you closer to his craving body. You had your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him deeper. His lips molded over yours in such an artistic way. It was simply amazing the way you two fit into each other, as if the heavens created you from the same strand of souls. One in body, spirit, and mind, you both became. You longed for the taste of him and it was as if on cue, he connected his tongue with yours, deepening your kiss. There was so much fire and passion, it was as if you two were begging for this. You moaned into him, feeling the vibrations against his lips as he pulled away from you to catch his breath. Eyes hooded, orbs dark and the light of the room stinging your sight as he moved his head to pepper kisses on your bare neck. Your body responded to him by tilting your head to the side and he used his free arm to slip down the back of your thigh, hiking your leg to his hip. The wetness of his tongue coating the hidden veins of your neck as he nipped softly, earning the sounds of your moaning. You felt his hard aching dick push near your core as his fingertips brushed further up your dress, barely touching where you needed him the most. He pulled back, panting and eyebrow cocked up at you as you licked your lips craving his delicious taste again.

“No underwear?” You felt your blood run cold as you remembered your lack of undergarments under the dress. You knew this was how you two would end up but your mind had erased every detail you had planned the moment he revealed himself to you. You just smiled seductively to him as he growled.

“I know my baby girl didn’t think she was going to tease me tonight.”

In one fluid motion, you were lifted off the floor, legs around his torso as he carried you to your kitchen island sitting you on the cold surface, your bare ass touching the marble and you hissed at the sudden feel. He wasted no time pushing all your dishware away and you heard the sounds of metal crashing to the ground, as he made room for you to lay.

“Normally you would have been punished for that,” he uttered referring to your attempt to edge him on. He pushed you back so you could lie on the counter, you grunt as you felt the shivers down your spine. He pushed the fabric of your dress up, revealing your dripping heat. He nearly groaned as he saw the way you glisten and wasted no time taking his long finger to drag up your slit. You arched your back in delight as your pussy throbbed painfully for him. He leaned over your body, lips close to your ear as he let a low hot breath.

“But I’m fucking starving.”

You watched as he leaned down your body and bent his knees to make himself align face to face with your core. He never broke your gaze as he did so and you hitched a breath as you felt his velvet lips kiss your inner thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you moaned out involuntarily. It was all too much, your mind was so foggy and you heard his low chuckled.

“I have to savor every part of my meal, babe” his hot breath hit your wet lips and your breathing heightened. It was agonizing.

A sigh of relief and a cry from your lips rang out as he dragged his long hot tongue over your slit, collecting every drop of arousal you produced and laying flat against your throbbing clit. Your hands immediately rested on his head, fingers intermingling with his soft hair. You pulled yourself up in reaction as he lapped you sensually, drinking you, eating you. You were a mess, eyes shut and rolled to the back of your lids. Intoxicated by the way he performed. He looked up at you as you cried and heaved, sweating beads forming from the edges of your hairline. Profanities slipping from your mouth with every movement he made against you. You felt his tongue part your slit and insert inside of you, lapping all he could, moaning into you. You laid back and groaned, hips bucking up at him to chase more. Licking his way back up to your needy clit, he took the bud into his mouth, sucking and licking it. You felt two of his long digits slip into you with ease and stretching you out.

“Oh my fucking god.” You cried out as you felt him bring you close to your edge. The white hotness built in the pit of your stomach and your legs began to shake. You felt his fingers curl inside you and he lapped deliciously, eyes looking at you as you held on to his head. He smiled as he saw your fucked out face and your mouth was opened, loss of words. He pulled back from your pussy and replaced his ministrations with his thumb as he kept fingering you. Leaning forward he kissed you, your juices coating his face as you tasted yourself on him. He moaned when you arched your self into him and he pulled back to look at you. He knew you wanted to cum. He could feel the way your walls pulsated against his fingers and saw how fast your chest was rising and falling. Licking his lips he came closer your face, forehead resting on yours, one hand now pushing your hips down and the other fucking you into ecstasy.

“Cum for me baby girl.” He pecked your lips softly as you moaned “Cum for daddy.”

Your body spazzed and you cried out to him as he enclosed your cries by kissing you passionately. His fingers slowed down their pace and pumped into you deeper, thumb grazing over your worn out clit, which made you convulse every time he flicked over it. He pulled back and stood over you, pulling his fingers out of your dripping core. You tried to catch your breath as he raised his fingers to his lips and slipped them into his mouth. You watched as he sucked your taste of him. It made your cheeks flush red and grow needy again watching the erotic scene.

“I missed the way you taste,” he smiled at you. You smiled back and found the strength to raise your body to him, sitting up and grabbing his belt loops pulling him closer to you. He bent down and cupped your face as he kissed you again. Your hands fiddling with his belt and buttons of his pants frantically, craving his dick more than ever. You wanted to watch him come undone the way he did with you. As you started to unzip his pants he pulled back and placed his hands over yours. Your innocent eyes looking into his in confusion as he held your hands away from his pants. He knew what you wanted to do, but he had other plans.

“Later, love. Right now I just wanna be inside you” he said softly. You smiled and he resumed, taking his pants off along with his underwear. You watch as his hard dick sprung out of the fabric and you gasped in delight. He wasn’t big or small, but the perfect length, the perfect girth. You licked your lips in the thought of being filled by his cock. He took a hold of his dick and rubbed up and down your slit, coating himself with your cum. You groaned due to your sensitivity and lied back down on the counter again.

“I can’t wait to ruin you” he stated as he inserted himself into you.

“Oh my god, Hyunjin.” You slipped his name out for the first time of the night. His hands slammed on the side of your head, as he hung his head low by your neck, stretching you out. You heard his sighs and groans in your ear. He slipped an arm under your head, pulling you close to him and you gripped his shirt as he whimpered, “Even after all that and your still so fucking tight.”

He snapped his hips into and you yelped. He groaned into your neck and his free hand found yours as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Faster, daddy” you whimpered.

He lifted his head to look at you, “You want it faster, love?”

He was pumping in and out of you slow and deep. His body melding into yours and your juices slipping out, pooling under you. You bit your lip at his question and you nodded. He pushed his way up and towered you again, grabbing a hold of your legs firmly. He began to quicken his pace as the room was filled with the slapping of skin. The feeling of him inside you was immaculate and you cupped your breasts through your dress as your mouth slipped out anything that came to mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”

“You like that baby girl, you like when I fuck you like this?”

Your back arching off the counter again as Hyunjin fucked you into another world. It was almost impossible for this man to not bring you into a state of bliss. Each snap of his hip hit you in exquisite ways. His deep grunts and moans sent bubbles in your stomach you watched as he would roll his head back to the pleasure you gave him. The way he spoke to you in moments like this were difficult to overcome. You could cum just by his words alone.

“God y/n you feel so fucking good.”

You could feel the pit of your stomach grow light again. Your walls began to pulsate around him and he could feel that you were chasing your second orgasm of the night. He smirked at you as you began to convulse, feeling the white heat rise to your ears.

“Are you gonna cum again, love? Am I making you feel that good?”

“Yes Hyunjin, fuck, you’re fucking me so good...”

“God dammit.” He growled.

Everything paused for a second as Hyunjin grabbed you off the counter, still inside of you, and he carried you to the dining room, kicking one of the chairs out for him to sit on. He sat down bringing you on top of him, slamming down on his slick member.

“AHH,” you moaned, tossing your head back at the different angle you had of him.

His hands rested in your ass and he leaned into your ear, “fuck yourself to oblivion, love”

You nodded as you rested your hands on his shoulders. You began to rock yourself back and forth on his dick, moaning loud. His hands helped you as you felt your orgasm grow closer and you began to lose your strength.

“Come on baby, give it to me,” you rocked faster and faster and soon you felt your orgasm inch closer. The pit of your stomach churned and the walls of your pussy clenched. “That’s it baby, cum for me.”

You cried out again and you felt your lower half give out to the intensity of your orgasm, you stopped moving for a second as you breathed in heavily trying to catch your breath. Hands still resting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and head hanging low, you felt so light, so spent. Hyunjin gripped your hips and began snapping his hips up into you, your eyes shut tightly as you gripped him, screaming. Your head now resting on his shoulders, body almost limp to the overwhelming orgasm you just had. Hyunjin fucked into you like a mad man, having not reached his high yet. You moaned into his ear at the overstimulation as he grunted to you. You finally felt like you had enough strength to finish him off and you began rocking yourself back to meet his thrusts.

“FUCK” he yelled as you didn’t let up. Your lips found the skin under his ear and you lapped and sucked on it tasting the sweat that formed in his neck from tonight.

“I’m gonna fill you up so fucking good.”

You smiled against his skin as his thrust grew sloppy. Your lips moved to his ear and you placed a soft kiss before whispering, “do it, baby.”

He groaned on cue and whimpered as he snapped his hips into you hard. You felt the warm spurts of his cum hit your walls inside you and you didn’t let up to the way you rocked against him, wanting to milk him dry. He gasped and tried to hold you still, unable to handle the sensations.

“Fuck, oh my god y/n,” he sighed as you stopped overstimulating him and just sat there in the chair with him still inside you.

You raised your head to look at him, both of you fucked out, and you smiled as you leaned in and kissed him again. He cupped your face into the kiss and held you there. The heat radiating of your sweaty bodies and the smell of sex filled the air as the both of you kissed each other with so much need. Pulling back slowly, you rested your forehead against his with your arms around his neck.

“I am never leaving for that long ever again” he stated and you laughed as you moved a piece of his hair off his sweaty forehead, fingertips lightly touching his vein that the top that always came out when he was working hard like that.

“You were gone for a week” you responded and he pecked your lips a few more times and moaned softly.

“A week too long” he smiled and caressed your lower back as you still sat on him. “I missed you too much”

“You’re back now, and I’m not letting you go anywhere” you kissed his nose cutely and he pulled you in for another kiss.

“Sorry about dinner.”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you got what you were craving” he smiled.

“Oh honey, that was just an appetizer” he stated as he lifted you both up off the chair. You felt him grow hard again inside you as you laughed. He kicked his pants off his ankles and began walking you to your living room. Finding your couch, he laid you down and kissed your neck as you giggled. He pulled back and made a goofy smile as you reached your hand to caress his face. He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips softly as you smiled adoringly to him.

“I love you so much y/n” He leaned in to hover over your lips and your heart skipped a beat to his words.

Because you knew that no matter what, you were falling into that hole, deeper and deeper. And you didn’t know if you wanted to escape, no matter the consequences. Because this, here like this, with him was all you wanted. For the rest of your life.

“I love you too Hyunjin.”

***

A/N: Ahhh, it’s out. The first chapter!! I hope you like it and are excited about the series as I am! If you made it to the end and are reading this you are loved <3

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takuyakistall · 4 years ago

Text

???: Chapter 1

Note: Some random idea I had a few nights ago. I don't know if I'll continue it but I'll put this here just in case. There's a mention of nudity here but nothing too extreme.

Characters included: Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt, Grim, (Y/N)

Your eyelids fluttered open as the bitter scent of melting candles entered your nostrils. Your body couldn't move an inch, not a single part of it listening to your desire to move. All you could see was darkness and you felt the fear settle in the pits of your stomach—'run' your mind shouted at you. You managed to jerk your foot back but—

Chains?

The rattling of the rusted chains wrapped around your ankles filled your ear as you found yourself trapped. Thousands and thousands of questions filled your head and you couldn't pick just one to focus on. You frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings until a sudden flicker of flame made itself known in front of you as a voice whispered in your ear.

"What do we have here... A lost lamb? How rare! We barely get any visitors these days." You couldn't spot anyone. Your throat felt dry and your voice, hoarse.

"Who are you!?"

"Oh, calm down. Your answers will be answered in due time, yes. Though I am curious..."

You felt your whole body freeze up.

"Didn't your parents warn you of the monsters lurking in the woods?"

You couldn't respond.

"What an unfortunate soul."

"Now sleep." The voice commanded. It was as soothing as gentle waters on a spring day, something you hadn't expected hearing during your time in this dark, cold place. You wondered what he said that for, was it for show? Until you felt your eyelids drooping lower and lower once again, your vision getting blurry.

"Roi d’Effort! How was it?" A voice called out in one of the numerous hallways of the mansion, his voice echoing all throughout as he approached a silver haired man with glasses.

Blonde hair in a bob cut covered with a hat, and hunter green eyes—seemingly normal attributes for a human except for the part where a single tail was sticking out from his clothes.

Silver hair, silver framed glasses, and sky blue eyes. Seemingly... Normal human attributes. No oddities in sight, he was in the clear.

"Oh, Rook-san, were you waiting long?" The businessman smile he plastered on his face could've charmed anyone who saw it. But Rook, the blonde guy, knew better than to fall for it so easily.

"Non, non! Monsieur Fuzzball accompanied me here, we just arrived." Rook pointed to the velvet seat placed in the corner of the room, a lone cat dozing off in the middle of the seat.

Grey fur, ears with blue flames, and a tail resembling a pitchfork. Definitely an odd cat.

"F'nyaa~ Is Azul out yet?"

The moment Grim jumped out of the chair, a puff of smoke engulfed the small area as a human body suddenly emerged from it.

Black hair and blue streaks—the same ears remained. Azul had to throw his coat to Grim when he saw this sudden transformation, irked at the fact that he was naked.

"Put on some clothes. Seriously... Haven't we already told you to bring an extra pair of clothing whenever you transform? No one wants to see you naked."

Grim merely stretched his arms as he picked up the haori and wrapped it around his body so Azul wouldn't launch him outside the window. "Ehhh, it's not like there's anyone else aside from us here."

"Well do you see Rook running around naked? No? No. Follow his example."

"Roi d’Effort, I'm honoured you would use me as an example for Monsieur Fuzzball...!"

"It's not a compli—Haah, nevermind." Azul massaged his temples.

"Moreover, about the human you picked up the other day... Grim, did they have anything with them when you spotted them? A weapon, perhaps?" Azul pushed up his glasses.

"Nope. They had nothin'." Grim replied, stretching his legs as he bent over to the floor. Trying to get used to his new form.

"Roi d'Effort, do you have any idea about who they might be?" An innocent smile danced on his face, Azul couldn't tell if he was testing him or if it was just pure curiosity.

"I suspected that they were from those stupid—what do they call theirselves again? Oh! The demon hunter morons from the town at first but they didn't have the emblem anywhere on their body." He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to think of other possible reasons until he asked Rook his opinion about it.

"Then...! Perhaps they're just a little lost?" Rook suggested

"There's no way they could've gotten in. Shroud's barrier can't be broken that easily by a normal human." But Azul thought that Rook wasn't one to guess so blindly. Was there a certain reason behind his words?

"Then are you positive that there were no marks on their body? Can you promise me you didn't see anything, Azul?" Rook's gaze suddenly glowered at the silver haired man, the smile never leaving his face. Azul's muscles went tense, he was perfectly sure that he did a thorough search. The fact that Rook was doubting him made him feel an unexplainable amount of insecurity as well as anger.

"...What are you implying, Rook?" Nonetheless, he tried his utmost best to keep calm.

"Ah!" Grim suddenly butted into the tense atmosphere, snapping his fingers as he remembered. "I remember!"

"They had a bracelet with them, a red one. It looked like it was more of a rope though—so I threw it out."

Oh.

"Oh, is that so?" The light-hearted tone Azul used caught Grim off guard, he hadn't expected him to take this well.

"Rook-san~! Please tell the chef that we're having smoked Grim tonight."

"F'NYA!?" Grim felt all the hair on his body stand up when he heard Azul announce that. Of course, he didn't really expect Azul to eat him like that but the alternative of that punishment was far worse than he could've ever imagined. He shuddered.

"Grim-san! I have a task for you." Grim had to gulp down.

"Find the bracelet before the others come back."

"Or else...?"

"Make a guess, won't you?"

He was screwed.

#twst #twisted wonderland #self indulgent takoyaki #fanfic #twst writing #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #rook hunt #rook #twst rook #pomefiore #twst grim

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forgotten-contract · 1 year ago

Text

Voidtouched-blue--[prior]

Clawed fingers were quick to grab gently at cloth as if to hold him still, as always she was careful of her the sharpened points to not tear his fine clothing. But as she had moved close enough, the clear smell of that winter snow had her ears flick forward in an instant. Her cat-like eyes relaxed into their normal rounded shapes as the realization had quickly snapped her out of that wild focus. "You're hurt?" She looked up at him, starlit eyes scanning his face for clues before her vision turned to examine his clothes. "Where?" She would not accept anything less than what she deemed to be a satisfactory reply.

The sudden cut of her words matched with the brash movement of that treasured tome was a warning of many things, but before the hound could ask his obvious question of concern for her well-being; Cyra began to investigate his own.

Eyes closed did she sniff the air, trailing the invisible threads that would lead her to the tangled mess of his person. Pupils narrowed with that instinct the lord hadn’t thought to assume she possessed. Apparent in her focus did he quickly puzzle out her senses were keen-

Keener than his own it seemed. Which was a dangerous thing to learn.

What else had she noticed but kept unsaid?

Despite the way his heart hammered as those paws approached him - lacking that subtle pitter patter - Silvaire didn’t step away from her, but the instinct to flinch was fought as she was quick to grab the black of his jacket with careful claws.

Speaking so genuinely as those violet-blues looked up to him with such concern.

Behind dark lenses his eyes widened a fraction (ignoring the sting of that half-healed bruise) before he cleared his throat, knowing the pulled collar of his coat hid similarly dimmed marks, earning a soft lean from her person, from her searching gaze.

He hadn’t prepared for her to notice.

Despite the time of the night together, of the kindness and admittance he’d given to his friend, the lord still wasn’t prepared for her to care. It was such a concept that continued time and again to blindside him.

And after that stark reminder of the life the voidsent lived normally, he’d nearly forgotten it again with that harsh check of reality.

“It’s nothing.” The wrong answer.

So often was he able to lie on the turn of a dime - to spin a story with half truths or mislead with vague omittance - but after the time holding her in his arms, after those hours spent with such unburied fear for her life-

Seeing those stars staring up at him, he found it hard to deny her outright.

Looking away with momentary thought to the truth - to the thoughts of what list of injuries he’d already fixed with his slow walk back to her, not fully registering how his gaze turned to that case of crystals that caused the contract in the first place - he felt his fingers tapping against his wrist as he turned back with that painted smile, as if he could put that mask back on.

“There was some work that required my attention - a few scrapes from a mishap, but nothing to be concerned over.”

It would heal as any passive thing now. It wasn’t life threatening, it was just uncomfortable. Tiring. Aching. But he was alive.

Even if he felt such a weight to his shoulders from the feelings of memory, of the cold that seemed to have followed him through that doorway - it would pass with time. She herself was in much more dire straits than himself, though her light had mended so clearly, the rust of dried blood still coated the parts of her fur and hair; that took precedent, her comfort did.

If she needed the crystals again, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

As if his sparse - and poor answer - was good enough, the foolish lord gave a nod to the young woman who stood before him, with some attempt to change the subject - as if he’d learned nothing of the fact he wasn’t some ghost to be ignored by the Keeper who held tight to his coat.

“What questions woke you? You’ve not pushed yourself too far have yo-”

#(morbid curiosity) [voidtouched blue]#[aspects of black and white]#thread: voidtouched studies #[we got a class A idiot on our hands here boys]#[HE'LL LEARN HE'LL LEARN BUT GOD IS HE SOMETHING]

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

Text

"It’s A Personal Project”

This is just a drabble, unrelated to anything else I’ve done. I hope you guys enjoy ^^

CW: Sewers, general uncleanliness, death threats, tentacles, implied limb loss

The flashlight’s beam illuminated, on and off, two pairs of feet-- one dressed in the tattered sneakers of a student athlete, the other dressed in the sort of black leather boot that would be shined and polished at the airport.

The footsteps from both pairs of feet echoed rather hollowly throughout the narrow, concrete hallway. Well, perhaps hallway was a little generous.

“The sewers? Really?” As Agent spoke, their leather cleats splashed through a murky puddle of water.

“You said follow in their footsteps, didn’t you?” Hero raised a brow, moving the flashlight beam forth a few feet. In an uneven, faded pattern, muddy bootprints could be seen, stretching out into the abyss. “If we’re going to find Villain, you can’t be squeamish about it.”

“You couldn’t have at least warned me?” The more professional of the two stuck their nose up, before covering it with a hand. “I could have at least brought... hell, I don’t know, a mask or something?”

“If I had warned you, you would have brought everyone else on the force. And when is the last time that worked?”

“I’ll admit our luck hasn’t been the best.”

“It’s not luck. Your coworkers are all just braindead.”

Hero shook their head, shivering as a fat drop of water (at least, they hoped it was water) plopped onto their scalp. They pulled up a hood.

With their forms silhouetted in the flashlight’s beam, the duo showed off a far more intimidating appearance than they were justified for having. On the right, Hero moved, their narrow form outlined with sharp shoulders and a long coat. On the left, Agent, far taller in shape and wider in form, kept pace. Their shoulders were broad enough that they struggled not to scrape them against the concrete walls of the sewer.

An intimidating form, certainly, only thwarted by the fact that one of them was a college professor, with the other employed by an agency that's main role was to be the butt of every joke at headquarters.

Right now, though, it made no matter. In the darkened sewers, no one could care less about their badges or their PhDs. Of course no one cared-- there was no one else down here.

There was no one-

Hero stopped, sticking an arm out to stop Agent from advancing any further. For a moment, silence reigned, aside from the distant trickling of water.

Thunk.

The two turned their gazes upwards as the footstep sounded, followed quickly by another, another, and another. Agent took a step backwards.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call in the other agents? This-”

“Isn’t their problem.” Hero practically growled in response.

“It is! It’s literally what we get funding for!”

“If you don’t want to help, the exit is that way. Uh, somewhere back there.”

“No, I want to help. I’m helping. I just think... maybe we shouldn’t do this alone?”

“Call it a personal project.”

“What?”

“It’s a personal pro-”

Another resounding thunk, from further away.

Hero gritted their teeth, gripping tighter the flashlight in their hand. The formerly evenly cast beam began, at once, flying all over the place as Hero began a reckless sprint forwards. Agent watched for a moment, before coming to their senses and following.

They hadn’t know Hero for awfully long-- only meeting in brief moments on missions, where they always seemed to inexplicably run into one another. They had spoken many times, certainly, but Agent had never been able to get a very good look at their odd acquaintance.

The way their coat sleeve flapped behind them, though... that didn’t seem normal.

Regardless, Agent didn’t get the chance to look any closer. Hero tore to the right, practically launching themself onto a ladder mounted on the concrete. Before Agent could blink, their compatriot was gone. With a shake of the head, they followed.

The two appeared from a sort of trapdoor into, luckily, a far drier area. The rectangular room expanded around them, void of anything but trash and dust.

And footsteps.

The flashlight beam shot to the catwalk above, just barely catching the shadow of a figure who disappeared around a corner.

Hero didn’t hesitate.

By the time Agent had even realized that they had moved, they were already on the catwalk, twenty feet above. With a sparing thought about how they were going to get so fired, Agent followed, though they loathed to admit that it took them significantly longer to ascend the steps.

The catwalk, so rusted that it barely held its own weight, groaned as the three figures tore across it. The game of non OSHA compliant cat and mouse continued for what must’ve only been a few minutes, but felt like eternity. Ducking around corners, leaping cracks in the grating below, nearly tripping over all manner of scattered trash.

Villain-- Agent could only assume it was them, if only based upon Hero’s reaction to the whole situation-- had the ever-present advantage of speed, like the lithe little bitch they were. On an open field, they would have won the chase, easy.

But this was no open field.

A screech tore through the concrete structure as Villain skidded to a stop. Agent swore they saw sparks fly from the heels of their shoes. They turned, panting, but still smirking.

A dead end.

Behind them, a railing. A wall on one side, a railing on the other. And in front?

Hero took a step forth, one hand on the flashlight, the other, presumably, flapping about within their limp sleeve.

Beneath their coat, something slithered-- a series of bumps, sliding around, writhing and twisting and unraveling.

A black, whip-like tendril sprung from their coat, tearing a gash in it as it went. Another soon followed, then another, until Hero’s coat could be more accurately described as a rag, and six tentacles sprouted from their spine. Each twisted and squirmed over the others, as if they all had their own minds.

Hero took a deep breath, before speaking, in an awfully measured tone:

“I’m going to kill you now.”

The tendrils were fast. Agent was faster.

They weren’t sure what had compelled them-- not even as they leapt. Perhaps it was protocol. ‘Captura Non Nocere,’ ‘Capture Without killing.’ It was their agency motto, inconspicuously printed at the top of every official document. Maybe it was morals. It felt wrong, shooting a trapped bear, even if it was a bear. Maybe they were just stupid.

Whatever the reason, Agent tackled Villain.

Neither had been expecting it, and Hero clearly hadn’t been either. Agent wanted to turn, to yell at Hero for being so reckless, but, at the moment, they had other issues.

Namely, the fact that they had tackled Villain straight over the railing, and the fact that the ground was approaching quite rapidly.

It stopped.

Like they were a ragdoll, Agent felt themself flipped over, so that their back faced the ground below, and their gaze faced an awestruck Hero above. A few feet to their right, Villain floated in a similar position. They quickly righted themself, so that they were practically standing mid-air.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me, now?” Villain raised a brow. Agent kicked, or did their best to, at least, but found their limbs held firmly in place by some invisible force.

Hero blinked a few times, as if they had yet to register what had just happened. Like a dog putting its tail between its legs, their tendrils bunched together, pulled against their back.

“You are so fucking stupid.” Hero finally spoke, locking eyes with Agent.

“Hey, hey, my eyes are over here.” Villain pointed to themself. “Though, I agree, your friend here is pretty stupid.”

“They’re not a friend.” Hero bared their teeth. “Come back up here, and fight me, you fucking coward.”

“Not a coward. Just working with what I have. And right now I have, hmm...”

Agent felt a shiver run up their spine.

“Well, I have your friend, here. And I have a whole factory’s worth of tools...”

Agent struggled to turn, but could only listen as clanging sounded from below them. Something, multiple somethings, brushed against their back. Some were rather dull, rounded, while at least one felt to be the edge of a blade.

“And, right about now, I’m the only thing standing between your friend, here, and the inconstestable force of gravity.”

“Do it.” Hero snapped, one hand gripping the rail until their knuckles turned white.

“Drop them."

#whump #whumpe #whumper #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt #agent

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violetnotez · 4 years ago

Text

Dabi x reader

This is loosely...LOOSELY based off the myth of Persephone and Hades-honestly, I tried to do the fic based off the legend and it just turned into a yandere Dabi, so enjoy!😘😘

⤷ Genre: Yandere, angst+fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2898

⤷ Warnings: cursing, abduction, mentions of spicy themes 🔥

⤷ Synopsis: You wake up in a new place, feeling tired, achy, and not understanding a single clue of how you got there-until you realize you have been taken prisoner by non other than Dabi, who has seemed to take a strange liking to you.

Song Recs: ⤷Tourniquet-Evanescence⤷Hollywood’s Bleeding-Post Malone ⤷The Reaper-Chainsmokers

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

You groaned, your eyes barely opening to slits as your mind awoke from its foggy state.

Everything felt numbingly painful: your joints ache as if they were rusted metal, unmovable and thick with time. Your feet tingled with exhaustion and your arms were heavy with fatigue, your forehead throbbing slightly from your uncomfortable nap. Your chapped lips parted, the skin detaching itself from being molded together for so long as you began to try and awaken yourself.

Feet-then legs- then hips-then arms- then head.

You began to pick apart each piece of body, the connection running slowly as you moved each ligament and limb, awakening them from their ill rested sleep.

What the hell had even happened to you?

Nothing was familiar to you- this room you were able to slowly piece together was foreign and solemn, almost akin to a warm dungeon with its steely brick walls and frugally decorated exterior. The only thing that seemed remotely comfortable was the bed you were laying on, the cool black sheets chilling your bare skin.

Your heart skipped a beat as your heavy head lazily looked down at your body: these were not even your clothes, if you could call it even that

You could sense on your skin that you were still wearing your undergarments, but the only thing covering you was a thin white shirt, the fabric charred at the top with gaping holes and flowing just past your upper thigh.

Everything was so strange-this foreign scenery, these clothes that were hastily thrown on you, your aching body....

The shock of the newnness couldn't seem to feel frightening. Your senses and survival instincts were cloudy and murky, your mind slowly trying to piece together the situation in front of you.

But it was like trudging through a river upstream-the rush of the water was too powerful, slowly pushing you as you climbed desperately to fight your fatigue and understand your situation.

“Oh good, your finally awake-thought you’d be out for another hour,” a voice drawled out from the shadows, sending a shiver through your thoughts.

Your body stiffened instantly at the sound, your heart beating against your chest like a hammer pounding against a nail. The voice seemed to speak from the shadows of the room, a body less phantom, it’s voice low and bored sounding as it slowly came closer to your fragile body.

“-seems your body didn’t like the drug Kurogiri made- youve been out for a while now,” it continued, a smile eminent in the voice’s tone as it creeped in the darkness.

What the hell was going on? Who was Kurogiri? And what freak drugged you?

And why couldn’t you remember anything from the last night?

Questions swarmed your brain, each one more complex and confused than the last. You were completely awake now, your eyes wide with shock as they darted across the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

You took a deep swallow through your dry mouth, coating your tongue with thick saliva as you willed your beating heart to squeeze out any courage it could.

“Who-who’s there?,” you stammered, your voice craggily and thick like sleep, “Who are you? Where am I?”

A low chuckle tumbled against the room, turning your blood ice cold.

“Slow down dollface, introductions first. Cant be demanding things when someone welcomes you into their home,”

“I never asked to be brought into your home-”

“And I never asked to like you so damn much, but here we are,”

Like...you? Your shocked eyes turned into confusion, trying to decipher the meaning of that sentence.

Who even was this guy-and what did he want with you?

Steel boots on wood floor pounded against the wall, small details finally being able to be seen. Fear pooled in your stomach, making it difficult for you to look and see who your captor was.

You started gazing at the bottom of his tall stature: boots, black and worn….black pants to match, a trench coat inky and dirty in spots with dirt…..a white shirt, looking painfully identical to yours…silver details glinting like knives as it wrapped around your captor’s lean forearms, strangely scarred purple skin….

“the name’s Dabi,”

He gave you a crude smile, those piercings digging into his skin with the motion as his eyes light up with amusement.

Fear gripped your stomach and flooded your whole body, squeezing your lungs painfully and forcing you to be unable to breath. You knew who this was, he was hard not to miss, with his marred skin and piercing blue eyes.

A Villian of the LOV, a dangerous man with an even more dangerous quirk.

You gulped, noticing how the scars ran against his skin for the first time, covering most of his body in a thick film of painful markings.

“Telling by our face, your already know me, dont ya doll?”

If he had those marks because of his own quirk...you shivered at the thought, knowing full well it would be 10 times worse for yourself if he used his fiery power against you.

You had to be careful with this one if you wanted to come out if this on one piece...extremely careful.

His face turned down slightly in annoyance, his blue eyes squinting as he peered at your shivering form.

“Answer me, I don't like being ignored,” he chided, his tone extremely calm and dangerous.

You gulped, shifting quickly so you could sit up and talk to the man directly.

“Yes, yes I know who you are-you're part of the LOV,”

“So you already know? Such a smart girl,”

That thin smile returned, almost like a grimace by how wide it was. He stepped closer, those boots like the ticks of a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

You couldn’t fathom why this-this Villian, wanted anything to do with you.

You were no hero or sidekick, just a frugal girl going to college in the city. Your quirk wasn’t anything special: it was called Plant Growth, which allowed you to grow plants by merely touching any part of it exterior. You had been told it was strong, but you had never really paid any mind to it, only using it to grow your own garden or help others who couldn’t seem to grow their own.

Was this why you had been kidnapped?

Did the League see something useful in your quirk, something I’d use to them?

“What do you want with me?” You asked, hating how terrified your voice sounded compared to his prideful, calm tone.

“I-Im not going to be apart of your League’s plans if thats why your kidnapping me,”

Dabi chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, the League doesnt know I have you. They think Im still trying to recruit more members at the moment. No, you, you are my dirty and innocent little secret, dollface,”

This was wierd-too wierd.

Why did he sound so possessive, As if he was a child protecting his favorite toy from the other kids? What was wrong with him-you had never talked to this man a day in your life, only knowing him from the occasional news reporting about him.

So why did he treat you as if he owned you?

You grimaced at the way he described you, the words making your skin crawl.

“Please dont call me that-”

“I gonna call you whatever I want to call ya,” he snarled, that disturbing grin still plastered on his face, “youre not in a position to be calling the shots.”

“Can you at least call me by my real name?” You asked, your voice timid and begging,” It’s-“

“Y/n, I know,” he smiled as you stared at him with terrified eyes, your mouth slightly agape.

So you were right-he did know you.

But how?

“How do you-“

Dabi chuckled again, the sound rich and deep rumbling out of his chest.

“Damn, you have hell of a lot of questions“, he sat himself down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his added weight.

The smell of burning wood and whiskey floated to you, your senses going into override from the smell. It confused you how comforting it felt, but the fear was still growing in your stomach.

You instantly brought your feet close to your body, your knees hugging your chest as you tried to grow distance from you and this man.

“Well, you did just kidnap me, so I kind of deserve a few answers,” you remarked, your eyes trained on him.

He seemed so calm, so collected, staring at you with patient and waiting eyes.

“So you wanna bargain with me?” He drawled out, almost sounding bored as he leaned his head forward.

You swallowed, the blood rushing to your ears. That shit eating grin he was sporting seemed so menacing, as if he was secretly playing some cat and mouse game with you.

“What’s the bargain?” You asked hesitantly. The thin shirt pooled against your thighs, sending shivers against your skin.

Even with the strangely warm room, the fright from this situation and this Villian sent up your spine.

You had to admit it to yourself-there was a strange charm to him. He radiates pride and commanded power, from his messy black hair to his piercing blue eyes. His marred skin rippled like infinitely connected rivers, the purple wine color quite pleasing once you got adjusted to the shock of it.

The only thing that showed weakness were the staples: they seemed so painful, the way they pulled taught against his smooth skin and stretched it agonizingly against his skin. A small part of you felt empathy for the Villian and these crude marking adorning his body, but he didn’t seem fazed by them.

He continued to grin, even with those staples stretching his skin to ungodly lengths.

His piercing blue eyes racked into your body, gazing you up and down with a hungry gaze, like a lion looking at a lamb.

“You ask one question-and thats it,” he instructed, his low tone commanding.

One question?! You stared at him in shock-He can look as pretty and ethereal all he wanted with his pale skin and sultry voice-but no way in hell was he going to allow you one question after he kidnapped you-he was out of his mind!

“But that’s not-“ you argued back, your face clearly annoyed by his proposition.

“Not fair??” He cut you off, his voice taunting you, “Well wake the hell up Princess, your under possession of a Villian-‘fair’ doesn’t mean anything,”

You pursed your lips, hating how smug he looked as he peered at your clearly irritated face.

If he wanted to play that game-fine, you could play too.

You turned your head defiantly to the side, your hair cascading across your face as you looked away from Dabi.

It was a risk to be so openly resistant, but if he liked you as much as he seemed to, he might break slightly.

An exasperated sigh came from the Villian, the weight in the bed shifting as he moved slightly closer to you.

“Fine then,” he said exasperatedly,” three,”

A wave of relief flooded your system, a small smile tugging against your lips as you looked again at the Villian. Dabi looked back at you, a change flashing across his face.

He almost looked-relieved? Peaceful? Dreamy?

You couldn’t quite place it, but before you could fully understand it, his expression turned back to its lazy default.

“Now go, before I change my mind,” he instructed, his eyes trained on you as you shifted in your spot.

Three questions? Better but still-not that much.

“How much time has passed?” You asked first, your voice soft and tentative as you stared at the Villian with expecting eyes.

“Time?” He repeated, a grin on his bi-colored lips, “ That’s a short one…it’s been 2 days.”

Your breath caught in your lungs-2 days since you’ve been gone? You felt a small bit of panic flood your system, realizing your life had been unattended to for a whole 48 hours...but you quickly brought yourself from the intial shock. 2 days isn’t that long...it could be worse.

“Okay…” You sucked in a deep breath, willing your body to calm itself “How did I get here?”

“Now that’s a long one….

You watched him sigh slightly, his marred hands rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed slightly vulnerable like this, almost, well, sweet, as he tried to find the right words.

“I’ve been watching you from afar for a while now, and figured out you like to go into your garden before you go to bed for the night.

It was simple-I drugged you with a little sleeping serum I got from another member of the LOV, Kurogiri. Your currently in the LOV headquarters, in my room. Your clothing got dirty getting here, so that’s why you're wearing my clothes.”

Well hell-that was a lot to process. You instantly looked at him with worrying eyes, unable to process all the information. Hes been watching you? And drugged you? And, on top of all that creepiness, saw your in just your underwear and bra? Oh god, maybe even more-

He seemed to already read your mind, a dark laugh coming from his lips.

“Oh don’t worry dollface, I didn’t do anything,” he joked, his voice sultry and dangerous, “you’d feel it if I did,”

You gulped, letting those words register.

So he was a stalker and a flirt-great.

You licked your lips, clearly not finding the remark funny as you continued to stare at him with terrfied eyes.

The room seemed extremely quiet, Dabi’s dominant exterior faltering as your body language oozed fear.

“Why do you want me?” Your voice wa s barely louder than a whisper, your legs wrapped close to your body.

Dabi was the quietest you had seen him from this intial meeting, his inky black bangs cascading across his face and obscuring his eyes.

“Ya know…” he finally said, his voice vulnerable and quiet, “shit, I wish I knew that,”

“I just know that you-you are so whole and innocent, so loving...I-I fell for that. Not many are accepting of me, not just because I’m a Villian. They see my scars and instantly want me gone-but your not like that.”

He turned to you, that sultry smirk framed on his lips as he leaned in slowly, his digits resting gently on your knee.

You stared at that hand, the soft embrace on your bone making your heart jump. He was so gentle with you, so soft and endearing-you knew that he wasn’t like this with everyone. There was something inside him that longed for you, and it made your head spin in confusion.

“I’m not as good of a person as you think I am,” you replied, as if desperately trying to convince him,” I’m sorry people treat you so horribly, but-but I’m not your savior from it.”

He continued to smile at you adoringly, his blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“See, your sorry for me. Your-naive like that, and that’s why I like you so much.”

“But I barely know you, I can’t care for you as much as you want me to-“

“But isnt that people like you do-learn to love everyone, for all their traumas and flaws?” His voice became louder, more passionate as he shifted even closer to you. His hand grabbed yours, the staples digging into your cold skin.

He was so warm, his palms radiating a comforting heat as that smell of burning firewood filled your shocked lungs.

“Your so naive to everyone, to the people who dont deserve it-,” he continued, “you love everyone and everything.”

“I promise doll, if you just care for me like I care for you...I won’t hurt you,”

Your breath hitched in your throat, fears and defiance filling your body.

“You took me away from home. That’s hurting me,” you remarked back, desperately trying to fight yourself from leaning into the naturally warm man.

“Falling in love with someone and having them not love you back is hurting too,” his face contorted into anger and some pain, as if your words cut into his ego as his blue eyes pierced into you.

Your lips pursed again, your eyes forming into angry slits.

“I’ll never love you. Never,” you spat back. He may be pretty, and in some ways endearing, but no way in hell would you be his personal side girl, kept against your will to satiate his needs.

But something in your tone flipped a switch in him-no more was the patient, flirty Villian in front of you.

Something changed inside him, a dangerous personality took over, his hand swiftly reaching for your throat and wrapping around it.

All you could see were those expanse of blue, the irises dilated with anger as the staples in his hand dug painfully in your skin. Your eyes blew out in fear, his palm warm and suffocating as your skin became hotter and hotter, until the point of pain as you stared at those icy blue orb.

A sadistic smirk flashed again Dabi’s marred skin, causing a intense chill to spread along your spine.

“Aw you sweet thing, you scared?” He taunted, his voice dripping with amusement and anger,

“ You should be,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Taggings:

@sergeant102105 @weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha dabi imagine #bnha dabi x y/n #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader imagine #mha dabi x y/n #mha dabi x you #mha dabi #bnha dabi x you #bnha dabi x y/n imagine

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lemondropsssss · 4 years ago

Text

ok so i accidentally posted the wrong version of this first chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows how i managed that, here’s the actual version with like, finished thoughts and shit. this story is on ao3 here

The mountain happens.

Words are said in a moment of anger and fear. Terrible words. The Witcher couldn't have hurt him more if he'd used his sword. Jaskier has made Geralt angry before, but this? This was different. This time he means it.

So he walks away.

Doesn’t get the stories from the others. He stops at their campsite and packs up his gear as quickly as he can. He knows there’s a few of his items in Geralt’s pack but he ignores them. Rooting through the man’s belongings with abandon is not something he should be doing anymore.

His ears are ringing and all he can hear is the steady thud of his heartbeat and the beat of his lute on his back as he walks.

His lute. Jaskier stops short and quickly pulls the instrument from its case. Still as beautiful as the day Filavandrel had given it to him, barring one small dent when he’d used the poor girl as club. He’d taken out four of the bandit’s teeth with that blow. Geralt had smiled at him.

Now thinking of that moment brings bile to his mouth, and he retches horribly into the tall grass. The rushing in his ears gets louder and louder. His grip tightens and he can hear the unhappy twang of pressed strings.

He needs to get it away from him as humanly possible so Jaskier grips his lute and flings it far over the mountain side. He doesn't hear it hit the ground, but knows there will be nothing left of it but scrap.

Good.

He keeps walking.

Jaskier is alone, half drunk on lack of sleep and actual drink from his hipflask when it happens. When the last twenty-two years of his life fragments around him.

It's the fucking metalsmith's that triggers it; one second he's ambling down the road in the vague direction of an inn, tavern, or otherwise amenable hayloft. And the next second he's brought to his knees by the smells of worked leather, hot steel, sword oil, and some burnt tang in the air he can't even name. It's distinctly Geralt and it breaks him.

Memories fall around him like shards of glass; cutting his skin until a biting stinging hurt is all he can feel. And when the pieces shatter they dig into him; flaming shards of the last decades burrow deep into him, the hurt taking root in his bones and the soles of his feet. And every piece sounds like...

Shut up, bard

Fuck off, Jaskier

Go away, boy

Why do you never listen?

He wanted you gone

You shouldn’t be here

He doesn’t like you

This is where we part, bard

He wanted to be rid of you

It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling

He’s telling you everything you need to know why don’t you take the hint you stupid useless excuse of a man

If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands

For once in your life do as your told

It takes Jaskier three months to get from the dragon mountains to Oxenfurt. Apparently, destroying his main way of generating income isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. It also doesn't help that most of the coin he does find he in turn spends primarily on wine and not say, getting to his destination in a timely fashion.

Cresting the hill, Oxenfurt is just as beautiful as he remembered it. He slogs through the city, thinking wistfully of one of Geralt's more useful talents; scaring other travelers well away meant less time pushing and shoving through people to get anywhere.

When he finally reaches the great carved gates to the University he’s stopped by two guards before he can even think to step closer.

“This entrance is for students, faculty, and the academics. Giving Door is around the back.” The guard gestured over his shoulder towards the back side of the citadel where Jaskier knew there was a free kitchen and a place to get staple supplies run by the University.

“Oh, but I am faculty, good sir,” He says with an easy smile. No need to antagonize the nice men with pointy sticks. “Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, at your service.” He mimes tipping his cap. The guards are not impressed.

It takes some wheedling, but soon the dean is summoned and Jaskier is recognized and clapped firmly on the shoulder and after just a little too long of the bowing and scraping and speaking of payment and contracts and gods cursed lesson-plans before Jaskier is allowed to retire to his rooms.

The rooms are as he left them, though he suspects that while he was being held captive by the dean someone came in to sweep, dust, and open the windows.

Here he is. Home. Or as much as passes for it anymore. He’d thought that Geralt was his home but- no. No. If he was going to do this and be here, he has to put that fanciful life aside. He has to accept that he doesn’t belong in the worlds of magic inhabited by witchers and sorceresses and powerful princesses. He was a bard. Less than that, he was a bard without an instrument.

Well then.

Time for a change.

The next morning he takes a long bath. His traveler's beard is scruffier than he likes, so he trims and shapes it carefully until he’s satisfied. It's important to look the part. He'd managed to squirrel away a hefty sum over the years, so he goes down to the city on a mission.

He buys new shirts, trousers, doublets, boots, coats, gloves. All in muted earth or jewel tones; burgundies, rusts, indigos, navies, and soft tawny browns. No black. He gets his hair cut shorter, something more fitting a professor at a prodigious university and not some fumbling idiot following a man who clearly doesn’t care for him.

When Jaskier gets home he carefully packs everything from his life with Geralt into a chest. His clothes, cloak, packs, songbook, and some small treasures children had given them as thanks. He grabs the last one, a crudely carved wooden cat. Geralt had been given this by an eight-year-old girl in some backwater village plagued by a nasty band of nekkers. She’d been so proud of her work, even Geralt couldn’t be a grouch to her. He puts that figurine back on the mantle, shuts the chest, and pushes it under the bed.

Slowly, he dresses in his new wardrobe. Shaking fingers struggle with new buttons, but he manages the shirt and half of the doublet. Trousers next, then boots. And finally, after an age of adjusting seams and doing then redoing buttons, he meets his eye in the floor length mirror.

The man before him is in his early forties. He's handsome, with a wide smile and bright blue eyes. Lightly built, but corded with muscles built over years on the road. A few streaks of grey swirl in his hair. He’s fit, almost six foot tall. Dark blue peeks from under his high necked burgundy doublet. Dressed like this, he looks like a professor and not some damned fool.

“Well then,” His voice is rough, even to his own ears. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” Saying it aloud made his breath catch, his stomach roll, but he stood firm. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” That felt marginally better. “Jaskier the Bard is dead.” Hardly any wobble to his voice at all that time. “Jaskier the Bard died on a mountain top, far from home and very alone.” Deep breath.

“My name is Professor Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

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thewhumperinwhite · 3 years ago

Text

ATTD: The Wolf Pup, Without His Pack (2)

previous // masterlist

@whump-cravings @favwhumpstuff @whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: minor whumpee (nonhuman); nonhuman whumpee; use of it pronouns; implied parental neglect/Bad Parenting In General; referenced parental death.

----

Old Cruci hated humans.

Usually it was hard to see what Old Cruci was feeling. Old Cruci said things like “I have sworn on my life to protect you” and “Your coat is dirty; clean it” in the same tone of voice. Saren had never seen Old Cruci smile, and even his frown was often hard to see—just a twitch down at the corner of his mouth, and up in the middle of one of his eyebrows. The only time, really, that Saren could tell what Cruci was thinking was when he spoke of humans.

“They are like flies,” Cruci said once, when Saren had asked him too many times. His lip curled up, to show his pointed teeth, and his nose wrinkled, like he was smelling something bad. “They breed like flies, and die like flies. One is easily swatted, but more are always coming. They eat dead flesh and carry disease.” Then he met Saren’s eyes—Saren froze, right down to his marrow, for Cruci had never looked at him like that before—and narrowed his violet eyes. “You have seen flies, pup. Then you need never see a human. One is as good as the other. Do not ask of this again.”

That had made Saren relax, a little. Old Cruci said “do not ask of this again” often enough that it was no longer frightening. In fact, it might be that Cruci said “do not ask of this again” more often than he said anything else, at least to Saren.

Saren had reasons to hate humans, too. He was small when the Betrayer slew the Great Wolf, and burned the old Den to the ground. He never met the man himself. But Saren remembered the Great Wolf—remembered the Great Wolf’s dimpled smile and bright easy laugh; remembered clinging to the Great Wolf’s back as they ran through the trees, faster than lightning; remembered riding on the Great Wolf’s shoulders and the smell of the Great Wolf’s pelt when he carried Saren, half asleep, to bed. Saren knew what humans had taken from the Wolves, and what the Betrayer had taken from him, as well.

But Saren remembered the Great Wolf, and he knew that his father would not wish him to hate a people he had never seen.

So he didn’t ask Old Cruci where the humans lived, or whether he could go, and see them for himself. Cruci was not his father; Cruci could not decide who Saren would hate. And, anyway, Cruci had said himself that Saren was not to ask him of humans again.

Saren didn’t realize until after the iron-tipped arrow had torn into his shoulder that since he had not told Cruci where he was going, all the promises in the world would not let Old Cruci come and save him, now.

The human den was like nothing Saren had ever seen before—huge and labyrinthine, a thousand times more than the caves around the Wolf Den, which he had thought himself so clever for mastering. And Old Cruci was right about at least one thing: there were too many humans. He must have seen a hundred of them, by now, and more every time he turned a corner, and at least a dozen carrying weapons, and running after him now, and shouting in a language he did not understand.

Saren was a Wolf, on of Those That Chase, he should have been able to leave all these men in their clanging armor behind in an instant. But the arrow was tipped in iron, and his shoulder still burned, even though he had pulled it out, and now his feet were clumsy and slow, and he could not stop even long enough to pull his pelt back around him and be a proper Wolf again. And he was entirely lost, now, with no idea which way was back to the gate, or even where the wall was; and he couldn’t scale it now, not before they could all reload their bows, and—

There was a human in the middle of the road. Saren barreled into it at full speed, landing on the dirt in a heap, then scrambled to gather up his pelt and turned, ran through the first open door he saw.

The building was empty, thank all Fathers. There were boxes, made of wood, scattered around, mainly empty, though a few had straw or bits of canvas or ceramic in them. Saren found one, tipped over on its side, that was just bigger than himself—in this shape, anyway, which was a little smaller—and folded himself into it. He pulled his pelt around his shoulders, wanting to be in his own shape again—to have his proper teeth and claws at least—but the box was too small; there was no room to sink into his pelt and change back.

Outside, a harsh voice barked an order Saren didn’t understand. A softer voice followed it. Saren curled tightly in on himself and covered his head with both hands, tucked his face into his pelt.

As though that would help. He was the son of the Great Wolf, and ought to rise to meet them. Even this many humans would not have overwhelmed his father—the Betrayer had done it only through lies and trickery. Old Cruci would see this many humans and roll his eyes and burn them all to ash.

The humans clattered in their armor, yelling again.

At least Old Cruci wasn’t here to see him cry, he thought.

It was strangely quiet, then, for a little two long. The box was very small; Saren had the mad thought that humans must have been cruel after all, to leave him here to get cramp before they took his head and put it on their coat of arms.

Then the building’s door creaked quietly open, and Saren heard the faint noise of bare feet on the packed-earth floor.

He still didn’t understand the voice that called out. But it was quiet, soft with dry-rusted edges; not very like the soldiers’ terrifying barks at all.

Then, after a moment, the same voice cleared its throat, and called softly, “Little Demon? Are you here?”

Saren had understood not one word since he had come to the humans’ den, but this was clear as day. He jumped, a little, and tapped his head lightly against the box, and then its lid slid free and slapped loudly against the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust, which made Saren cough.

Saren froze.

There was a pause, and then the bare foot steps approached, light and slow. Saren tried to fold himself even further into the box, but there was nowhere left to go. He wrapped his pelt around his shoulders, and bared his teeth, ready to bite.

The human knelt in front of Saren’s box. It did not step as close as he had feared. There was room to run past it, even, if he dared.

Saren stared at it.

It wasn’t the littlest human he had seen—right at the beginning, when he was clinging to the top of the wall around the human den, he had seen two humans littler than him, colored like Cruci with black hair and brown skin, heads bent together, laughing. This human was taller, and older—though not much, Saren reminded himself, since humans aged so much like flies—and colored different, with messy yellow hair cropped short, and pale pinkish skin, torn and red in places. It was taller, but a thousand times thinner, swimming in spun-cloth clothes far to big for its narrow sharp-boned frame.

Its pale skeleton’s face went soft the moment it could see Saren in the darkness. A sword hung at its hip, but the hand it held out toward Saren was empty.

“Hello, little one,” the human said softly, and smiled.

----

The demon, visible mainly as a pair of shiny cat-eyes, stared out of the crate at the boy called Will.

“…you speak human,” it said after a moment. Will almost laughed.

It was a child’s voice, clear enough. And it had looked like a child, out on the street. And it had left a little trail of blood inside this empty storefront. Will could just see the shape of it, now, curled with its knees to its chest, like a child hiding in a closet.

The thought of it made his chest ache.

“Here, little one,” he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “Isn’t that box a little small for you?”

The demon narrowed its cat-pupiled eyes very slightly, and said nothing.

“The guards are off away, for now,” Will told it. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

The demon stared at him, and leaned forward a little out of its tightly-curled position. Light from the empty windows landed on a lock of storm-gray hair; it seemed to be wearing a cloak of matching gray fur around its shoulders.

“Why?” it said, half accusing and half curious.

“You’re a child,” Will said, before he could think better of it. “And they hurt you, didn’t they?”

The demon crept further out of the crate, in order to give Will a deeply skeptical look.

“I am not a child,” it said, sounding less insulted and more—like it thought Will might be deeply stupid. “I am a Wolf. And only barely littler than you, any—oh!”

When it tried to put weight on its left arm, it winced badly, clutching at its shoulder. Will moved forward immediately, without thinking; the wolf moved quickly back, baring its teeth—but so clearly frightened, rather than angry, that Will did not even move back, only raised his hands, to show that they were empty.

“I won’t hurt you, little wolf,” he said softly. “I—"

(Another, smaller voice, saying: “You Promise?”

And himself, on his knees again, smiling with bruised lips: “I Promise.”)

The demon was staring at him, tilting its head slightly. Will had no idea what his face had been doing. He swallowed hard, and remembered how to smile with a little effort.

“I—” His voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat, flushing. “You have my word.”

The demon studied him with open curiosity. It opened its mouth, its small fangs just visible.

“Captain!—Look, there’s a whole trail of blood here, it must be—”

The first guard’s voice was high and excited; the best-armored guard, who must have been the captain, did not sound angry either, though Will had no doubt that part would come.

“What on earth’s the meaning of this, boy?” the guard captain said.

He was standing in the storefront’s doorway, his hand resting idly on his sword, gaping at Will. He hadn’t even really seen the demon yet; it was already disappearing into the crate.

There were a dozen guards on the street, now, wondering why their captain had stopped in the doorway, when there were children to kill inside.

Will felt his hand drop to the hilt of his sword, without entirely deciding it should do so.

“There must be a back door,” he said softly, his eyes still on the guard captain. “Find it, and stick to the back alleys. There’s an inn two streets down; stay out of sight, until you see a man come out, wearing a green shirt, like this one.”

“What the hell are you doing?” the guard captain said, just now beginning to raise his voice.

Will got carefully to his feet. He heard the wolf-child gasp, behind him, but put his back to it.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Will said, coldly, and drew his sword.

#all those that dance #whump #original whump #fantasy whump #minor whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #death of a parent

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bittybattybunny · 4 years ago

Photo

Me writing an Au of my original character’s story cuz I had a “what if” moment

This drawing is also a partial ‘redraw’ of an old Kaya picture

I used one of her older outfit designs for this cuz I wanted to. it’s simple but yeah I hope ya like.

Um but here’s the ficlet (this is a short oneshot AU based on my original story “Nightmare’s Dream” this is an Alternate Universe where her human dad isn’t dead and it’s modern age not ancient like her actual storyline):

“Sir, Miss, this way.”

She turned confused as she heard her father being called. She trailed after, doing her best to keep hunched over as they stepped over the barricade into the crime scene. Her nose burned and she reached to cover it disgusted.

The area was a disaster. Rust colored splothces covered the concrete and pavement. She frowned as she narrowed her eyes as she looked around. Something was bothering her but her dad kept chatting with the police officer.

Gabriel laughed as he tapped his cigarette package and put one in his mouth, lighting the end with magic. His silver hair was slicked back in a thick braid with many smaller braids interwoven. His brown eyes moved to look at the young woman as she was busy looking around. He chuckled.

She kept her hand over her nose as she wrinkled her nose. It was astringent smelling. She could smell blood, urine, feces, metal, rust. It was giving her a headache. There was also now her father’s smoke. She hated the cigarettes he smoked. It made her head fuzzy. She knew he did ti for his safety but it made her eyes spin. She grabbed the man’s sleeve as she frowned.

“Dad… it smells bad… really bad… it’s sharp and stingy,” she stated quietly as she tugged on his sleeve. She chewed her lip with pointed fangs as her gold eyes darted about the rubble. She gripped his sleeve tighter, “There’s a lot of iron and… dad it smells---” she whined as he didn’t respond. He was busy taking notes down. She made a whine in her throat as she put her chin on his shoulder, “Dad--”

“Kaya dear, just put your mask on if it bothers you that much,” Gabriel stated finally. Reaching into the pocket on his long grey coat, he pulled out a black fabric mask. He held the black fabric up to her and she sighed as she hooked it behind her ears, the smell of lavender overpowering her nose. It made her head dizzy but it was better than the bodily fluids and sharp smoke she was smelling. She looked around, her golden eyes wide open as she surveyed the scene. Her eyes flickered to slits momentarily.

The building had exploded from the left side. The sidewalk was littered in broken bodies broken stonework. Even though it was nighttime there weren’t even gawkers or passerbys. She listened and heard no cars and she frowned as she looked at the sky and narrowed her eyes. As she continued to look around something was annoying her and she couldn’t figure it out at first. Something wasn’t sitting right. This whole scene seemed off to her and she was having issues figuring exactly what it was. Was it the smells, was it the lack of noise, was it her father trying to make small talk with the officer? No. Something felt like eyes. Watching. She knew it wasn’t the normal paranoia she dealt with. This was something else. But where? Where was it coming from? She chewed her lip beneath the mask.

Her eyes paused near one piece of carnage. A large block that’d fallen when the building erupted. That was it! She felt a smile on her lips as she jumped past her father to the shock of the police officer who’d been leading them and made use of her large stature to get over the rocks and cement. The belts and buckles on her outfit created a clink and a clank as she moved. Slowling to a stop before the stone she shook her head to center herself. She put her hand to the stone and scowled, furrowing her brow as she growled. This was what was making her annoyed. She knew it. She looked around at the rubble trying to figure what was different. She pulled her mask down and sniffed at it. She retched slightly.

“Dad.” she stood back up looking over at the older gentleman and pointed. She looked back at the stone as her eyes glinted.

“What did you find? Is it something nice?” Gabriel asked as he took the cigarette from his mouth. He tapped the ash from the end with a small smirk on his face. He watched as she raised a gloved hand and large circles lit up, creating a gust of wind, sending her black hair fluttering. The officer gasped at the sight of the young woman using magic.

“I open at the close, the one who seeks my name shall perish in the blinding lights of my unjust rage. That which began will cease and begin once the time clicks forward.” she recited as the wind and circles faded. She frowned under her mask and pulled it down under her chin. She stuck her tongue out while she started to cough. She turned back towards her father and the shocked officer. Bright red markings dripped on her cheeks like jagged slices. The whites of her eyes appeared a greyer color, darkening as she stood there.

“Was it creature, beast, caster, or spoiled?” her father asked as she frowned. He looked at his notes as she stared at him. The officer looked confused as the others surveying the scene turned towards the commotion she was causing.

“Yes.” was her only response before she looked back at it confused. She raised her hand once more and pulled the glove off. Dark claws and darkened skin blurred together as she placed it on the large block. She began to scrawl on it. Symbols. She worked quickly as she carved line after line into the stone. It started to erode. She sided stepped as a skeleton fell out onto the street. When it clattered to the ground, coins fell out with it as well as a book and some pages. She picked the book up and tucked the loose pages inside. She flipped through it before she tucked it away into her coat with a huff. She would deal with THAT back at the office.

“Oh. a vessel.” Gabriel watched the officer vomit and sighed before laughing at the other man, “Good work sweetie. Is that why it smelt stingy?” he asked as he scribbled in his book.

“Mmhm. Kinda. Partially. Not really. This is more…. It was making me really uneasy? Like how people describe being around me. How I always feel the eyes of the moon staring.” she pulled her mask back up over her nose and knelt down poking the skull with her claws. She sighed heavily before she stood up, the various chains on her outfit ringing. She stretched as the slits in the back of her shirt showed her pale flesh and the dark markings on it and she took a deep breath.

“R I S E.”

Her voice was strong and had an echo that caused a shudder to run through the air as the bones began to shift. Shimmering black threads wrapped the brittle yellowed remains together as it slowly stood up. Its skull clacked and teeth dropped. It clicked and chittered as it shifted with the threads holding it together. A light behind the eye sockets glimmering.

“That’s new.” Gabriel whistled, “who taught you that?” he raised a brow as he watched, “that wasn’t your normal work.”

“Miss Holmes in the necromancy department.” she stated as her father walked over, “she said voice of authority should work for a limited time if the corpse was magic respondent.” she explained as she looked at him. Turning back towards the skeleton, she narrowed her eyes, “Who buried you in the block?” she asked it with a stern tone. It had a similar echo to when she rose it from the ground.

It stared at her. It clattered. It tried to point but it’s arm was limp and it couldn’t fully raise it.

“Hrm. I don’t think this will work sweetheart.” her father patted her back but her eyes were staring firmly at the skeleton. “Sweetheart?” he chewed his cigarette.

“The one who buried me sleeps in the earth but the descendants crave destruction of the barriers,” she stated in a hollow tone. “They knew not that I would rise and that I rested here. The child brings sanctuary.” Her gold eyes were blank as she spoke. Her pupils returned as cat like slits as she snarled some.

“That’s no good.” Gabriel sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly. “I’ve worked hard on barriers after all.” he chuckled lowly, “I would prefer them to not be destoryed.”

The man turned to the officers, “it seems this is very much a case for our office. I’m going to let my daughter loose to have a little look. It’ll cut on cleanup and casualties.” he laughed as he stomped on his cigarette and looked at Kaya once more, “Ready, sweetheart?”

She whined some as she bent down. He reached to undo the leather choker she wore. He gently unclipped the belts from her arms and legs. There was a sickening feeling in the air. It became heavy. The sensation of being watched. The air was thick and oppressive as he continued to remove the belts.

She stood up straight for the first time that night. Her stature towering over those deployed. Despite her height she was thin and wispy. Her face was hardened into a steely glare as the man held a black mask up. It had two small horns. 4 white slits decorated the dark surface.

“Here you are.” Gabriel chuckled as he handed it to her.

“Thanks…” she lifted it to her face and set it on. At once four eyes opened on the inky surface before a jagged grin spread. She yawned and the mask moved with her motions.

“Find the one causing this mess and bring them back. If they prove difficult. Eat them.” he ordered her. She gave a nod and in a flash was gone leaving a crater in the pavement. The skeleton wobbled and collapsed into dust on the ground. Gabriel sighed.

“Well that’s not helpful.” he scribbled a note as he looked at the remains. He took his cigarette packet out.

“S-sir… what exactly….” the officer whipped his mouth in shock.

Gabriel smirked as he lit another cigarette, “that’s my wonderful baby girl! She’s a special one for sure!” he chuckled as he blew the smoke through his teeth, “a wonderful girl ever since I found her asleep in the lost woods. My sweet little Kaya.” he chuckled, “she’s our best agent you know.”

She jumped from building to building. Her head was throbbing from the release of her seals. She stood on the church steeple and looked around. She raised an arm as the shadows squirmed and formed crows and bats and tore off into the sky. The moon shifted as eyes opened and the night seemed darker. She looked around as she closed her eyes and focused on the shadows that flew around searching for magic traces. For the one who exploded the grim’s holding.

They ran through alleys. They spied in windows. They flew through buildings that whistled with openings. Her eyes snapped open.

“Found you.” she jumped from the building and vanished into the shadows.

“Should we help her?” the officer asked as Gabriel sat down to pull a not book out. He rolled the belts up as he looked up.

“No, we’ll only get in her way. This is training for her you see.” he chuckled, “do you know who we are?”

“I know you work for Prometheus…” he frowned.

“Correction, I own Prometheus.” Gabriel chuckled as he took a pen to write. He scrawled the message his daughter had recited and frowned, “Someone is messing with the barriers my ancestors laid down to keep the other side from interacting with humans. Kaya is a key to maintaining those barriers.”

She jumped from shadow to shadow, the tendrils clinging as she ran through the city. She stopped as she arrived back on the scene and the officer jumped.

“Welcome back sweetheart.” he hummed, “did you find it?”

“Mmhm.” she pulled her mask off revealing she had four eyes below it. All four trained on the officer. The whites of her eyes were the same inky tone of her hair and claws. Her gold eyes glowed in the night air. The officer backed up. He shook as she kept her stare on him. Like a mouse cornered by a cat he was starting to have issues with his heart. Something wasn’t right.

“Isn’t it fascinating?” Gabriel continued, “how the very people who protect the common folk happen to keep others on their side?” he kept scrawling without looking up. The officer swallowed their spit as the young woman kept her multi-eyed gaze on him. Gabriel chuckled some. “The real way to keep the peace is to play togehter sometimes.”

She moved to open her mouth revealing larger fangs. A dark mist left mouth as she gave a low growl deep in her throat. A second mouth opened along her jawline creating the illusion of her face being a mask. It clicked aggressively as she open and closed it.

“I said it smelt bad,” she spoke in a grumbly tone from both mouths. An echo of her own words. “So bad. The moment I got here. Bad magic. ROTTEN magic. Festered, old, wrong.” she hissed word by word.

“I open at the close.” Gabriel recited from his notes. He snapped his book shut and tucked it away into the inner pocket of his coat, “Sweetheart what does that mean typically?”

“It’s where it started,” Kaya answered him as she dropped her shoulders, her claws seemed larger and her limbs longer. She moved closer to the trembling officer. Four large black wings spread from her back as an unease filled the air. She stepped closer as Horns lifted her hair like inky tendrils and she hissed another cloud of smoke. The air grew heavier.

“Do you know what it means to make thine enemy your friend?” Gabriel asked as he stood up. He dusted his coat off with a chuckle as he looked at his daughter. “It helps you immensely in the long run to not make enemies of those who dwell in magic. Officer.”

Kaya cackled as eyes opened on the wings and the officer fell over foaming at the mouth. She straightened up and sighed as she relaxed now. Her horns vanished like mist as she seemed to return to how she had appeared earlier in the evening.

Gabriel clicked her belts back on and the air returned to the normal calm evening chill. She stood up and shook her head as she shut her lower eyes and mouth. She let her father put the belts back on as the wings faded back to the shadows and she grimaced. She took her choker and strapped it on, the silver cross on it jingling as she did.

He pulled a bottle of cola from his jacket and gave it to her which she eagerly sipped on. She took a large gulp before she groaned and stuck her tongue out.

“What’s the point of making me run around if he was the one?” she frowned, “My mouth tastes so gross now.” she shuddered, “Dad. you said this was a simple thing. I ran all around the city.” she whined as she sipped the soda, “In the end it’s just bad smelling and now my head hurts because you removed so many seals at once!” she leaned on him tiredly as she complained about the evening. She gave a large yawn. Her forked tongue flicked as she shut her eyes tiredly. “It’s rotten and icky and bluh.”

“I had a suspicion. I mean this is nothing but a dummy scene.” Gabriel chuckled as he lifted the round stone from around his neck and peeked through the hole. “You noticed I’m sure. It’s far too quite for a thursday even if it is midnight. He would have done better to stage this during the day, but I feel he wanted to wait for less real victims.”

“Of course I did.” she pouted as she moved to grab the officer’s shirt. The shadows swirled and she threw him through it with a shudder. “I see everything.” she opened her lower eyes as the fog began to lift, “That’s why you bring me, isn’t it?”

“No, I bring you because you’re my daughter and you need to learn to manage this.” He looked at her with a small glare on his wrinkled face. “What will you do when I can’t be your handler?” he asked seriously, “I’m not going to be around forever young lady. You’re already 37. I’m hitting 80 next month. You may look like a teenager but you need to learn this faster.” he chided her.

She sighed and looked away from her father ashamed. She continued to grumble, “you don’t even know that. You found me as a toddler...ish.” she sipped her drink as she pulled her fabric mask back out to cover her face.

“Yes, but you’ve been in my care at least 36 years, and you’re still my baby girl. Now. clean the area up, eat the remains.” he instructed as he checked his notes, “that vessel is the only concerning thing.” he scowled as he looked at what he’d written, “the idiot mage I expected but not an actual vessel to be here.”

“It’s a grim. Not a vessel.” she corrected him as bright circles and symbols lit up. The rubble began to rise into the air. She waved her arms as black threads danced and tied the building back together and stitched them whole once more. She looked at the bodies and whined, “can we please call a clean up instead?”

“Kaya.” her father sighed with a firm tone. He stared at her with faded brown eyes.

“Ugh.” she frowned as shadows shifted and covered the bodies. She shuddered violently and started to retch and cough. She held back the urge to vomit as she continued to remove them and crumpled to her knees gripping her stomach. She wiped the black sludge tears from her eyes.

“The magic tastes so BAD it’s so out of order! Messy! Old! Miscasted! Yuck!” she whined as she bit back tears, “I hate it! Hate it!”

“I know sweetheart but you need to consume the fear they produce.” he rubbed her back as she hiccuped and groaned. “I’ll get you burgers on the way home okay? We can even get some sunflower seeds for your bird.”

“I just hate it!” she stood up and wiped her eyes, “this is the worst.” she looked at him as she sniffled.

“I know sweetheart.” he sighed as he looked at the street. He frowned as he raised a hand, “Oh powers which guide the night into the light I call upon your strength of fate. Return that which has wronged and repel that which is sight.”

There was a haze that quickly faded and the sound of cars was heard as people chattered.

Kaya looked at the city and leaned on her dad with a sigh.

“Let’s go home,” she stated as she stood back up and started to walk.

“We should get your mother a cake.” he laughed as they headed down the street into the crowd. A three-eyed crow taking flight.

#original #colors #kai #skull #digital #nightmare's dream #even tho this is AU it does give a bit of insight to how Kai's actual story is--- the only real difference is her father being there and she #lacks the experience she has in her actual plot but this is kinda what he actual job is when she's not a teenage disaster or an amnesiac #god I love Kai and I really want to get her stuff worked on more #drawing this art was a bit of a lovely nostalgia to work on drawing just kai being kai in her silly glory #i love my idiot demon king and i can't express that enough

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