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7m7n7 · 4 months ago

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First off - yup, it seems i posted the wrong link, but hey, i can post the pic now. this person also was trying to implicate levihan and rivetra fandoms, saying they're not an eruri and following a lot of people who had beef w eruris. they do this a lot. ive seen them try to implicate levihans and rivaereris here and on twitter before as well, even tho anyone who knows them could tell. that's the issue, most people here don't know them enough and they're mad bc i tell people about it, particularly when it's a manipulation attempt where they try to disguise themselves.

and two more things about the so called "context" you added - which is funny bc looks like you picked a rather empty rb out of so many - ...if you think people in self-ship fandom are more maladjusted than shippers, you're either 1) lying shamelessly 2) have NO FUCKING CLUE what you're talking about. as someone who indulges in both (and usually just ship mlm btw, since it matters to you freaks SO MUCH), self-shipping fandoms cannot even be compared with ship fandoms. now, not every mlm fandoms are nearly as bad, obv. but even a surface level observation could tell you that shippers tend to be more obsessed, more competitive, more inclined to completely derp canon and engage in extreme OOC. second, why are you talking like tumblr is the end to the known universe? Most of the shit occurs on twt bc everything is searchable yet there are no functioning tags and dumb popular opinions get boosted and shoved in your face bc of the algorithm. you have barely any shippers (eruri or otherwise) even actively posting here, ofc you can fucking *avoid* it 🙄 try being on twitter and have them qrt every fucking levi related content with their disgusting degrading shit.

also its funny how you're so oblivious you can't even think to hide that you're obv engaging in this drama bc you wanna feel like a "legitimate blog" you attention starved mf 🤡

anyway, back to the main topic.

a lot of personality traits are social/performative, like being "polite", stoicism is also similar, but that doesn't make them coping mechanisms. coping mechanism IS a maladjustment bc its a response to trauma. it means that that person wouldn't have that trait without trauma. that's what i mean when i say cosmic called his stoicism "fake" 🙂 and a fucking braindead loser eruri anon already proved my point lmfao

this little insecure roach too threatened by levi's personality wants pretend he'd be like fucking MARCO of all people 🙂 and the same disgusting rhetoric, "oh heartless masculine alpha man" Hey, loser eruri cunt who was stalking me on twitter, im waiting for you to point out where does being masculine or alpha correlate with being heartless you fucking worthless trash 🙂

Aaaaanyways ^_^ those are @ anon by the way since you mfs have such a hard time differentiating who i am even talking about, though naturally applies to people who agree with what that roach is saying too 🙂

if you struggle to understand that, then you must be walking into street signs irl. I personally STRUGGLE TO UNDERSTAND UWU how can you even pretend that making a very defining part of his personality entirely about past trauma isn't woobiefication.

then you should also be able to understand my irritation to anything that resembles woobiefication towards levi. i disagree that i was hostile to begin with, but also with how you frame your own side, you're refusing to see it in context, even if CJ meant it in the suuuper niche way (which i disagree, bc they contradict themselves constantly) it's still an argument that helps people who resent levi. And CJ immediately got a fucking anon saying Levi would be like fucking MARCO LMAO. That alone should tell you anything you need to know. They wanna pretend he'd be like one of the most irrelevant, boring, unattractive characters in snk :))) So yes, whether in good or bad motives, CJ's arguments are still serving the same disgusting rhetoric average eruri stan uses.

also lol, youre saying you get hate thats why you're all soooo sensitive uwu, while being completely blind to the hate self-shippers get (or other shippers, but former one is here, happening IN FRONT OF YOU while the second one is mostly on twt). somehow only YOUR hcs are worthy of protection and you are the only ones who has a right to get mad at others :-( hmmm

"you perceive" and who fucking died to make you the authority on how *I* perceive anyone? you're COMPLETELY fucking off the target. If i had put CJ in the same category, i wouldn't have approached them this nicely :) theyre the one who accused me of sending them hate and blabbered endlessly after one comment, the one prejudiced against me bc i hate that ship is them. i already said that i don't have any problem with anyone *including shippers* who criticize the fanon or how fans behave in general - the problem is that it's insanely rare, and shippers themselves bully their own when it occurs. shouldn't your bestie cosmic know that better than anyone else? 🙄

your argument for "needlessly combative" be like

"i find it telling" girl, you fucking think im gonna answer every nonsense you mfs blabbered about? you losers went on for DAYS. you wrote a fucking NOVEL in which not one word worths a damn. and no, that panel @jayteacups posted isn't "telling" anything. everyone is shaped by 1) genetic makeup 2) their environment. it doesn't make those things "coping mechanisms". i don't see you guys blabbering about how being good isn't in his "true nature" bc he wouldn't be such good man if his mommy wasn't so loving and caring☹️ oh no instead you'll talk about how empathy is his "sole defining trait" (hilarious)

i used hypermasculine not in a clinical sense, lol. and im not a native english speaker. i meant that he's EXTREMELY masculine. it should be obvious to anyone who isn't just trying to derail from how i spoke about him before. and also LMAO i don't find "treating women badly uwu" and being a douchebag as masculine traits 😹 and he isn't characterized like that in self-shipping fandom, that purposeful mischaracterization of top levi fanon comes from haters (again, ERURIS), and the fact you adopt that same narrative says enough about where your loyalty lies. if you put OUR side with that side who constantly shits on levi on the same level, then you're part of the problem.

first off, i heaaavily disagree w the implication here that being "hyperaggressive" in bed or having a degradation kink (?) is "hypermasculinizing". those are separate things. a woman can be hyperfeminine and sexually aggressive, or be a sadist. it doesn't make them masculine. Aaaaanyways. "hyperaggressive sex dom who degrades women" like where, in bed? it's called kink and it's not how majority writes him anyway, he's usually a soft dom or vanilla, and there's nothing wrong w any of that. unless you bring to me where everyone's writing him like a misogynist who thinks women are lesser and argue it's canon, then you're full of shit. meanwhile eruri cunts characterize him like an ugly little doormat loser subservient to their self insert everywhere so that erwin comes off looking like The Superior Man and push it like its canon, it's not even a sex thing alone (actually the sex position is only there to serve this narrative too bc, again, they think bottoming is degrading) and anyone with half a brain can tell that.

also lmfao, i said it MULTIPLE TIMES that i see levi as a kind, heroic man FROM THE START. cosmic*joke* and now you are the ones who choose to ignore it.

Uhmmm, no. it has everything to do with eruris, bc that's the entire reason we're having any of this conv, CJ blamed me of things i didn't do, and part of it is bc eruri stans tried to push the hate /they/ sent on me before, even in contexts where the source was proved to be known eruri blogs by CJ. And theyve been trying to paint my /REACTION/ to their toxicity as not a reaction, but an instigator while they try to paint themselves as a "mostly peaceful" group when they're pretty much the source of all trouble in this fandom, and im the bad guy bc i out them. Like, what do you expect me to post about to prove my point LMFAO

two anons i saw they sent to CJ after CJ made that callout for eruris. i love the way the first eruri instinct is just to lie shamelessly in all contexts hoping some of it sticks 🩷 almost a talent!

also...derailment? if you mean that im bringing the topic to eruris like when CJ said before, then it's bc a lot of the times ppl don't know the source of a particular problem like i do, bc you guys barely engage directly w them here unlike us on twt. a lot of criticism of levi fanon for an instance people have that may seem unrelated to shipping at first come directly from them. Just a seemingly unrelated example is "levi is selfish" argument or when people say "oh you make levi a bland hero". Personally, if these takes were not related to shipping, i wouldn't care (unlike CJ, who'd froth from mouth at the idea of a morally impure levi lol) but I can %100 guarantee you whenever someone says it it's bc they have #That narrative for midnight sun. perfect fanon may not exist for anyone, but there's no other fandom that assassinates levi's character like they do.

that's bc it's used in a degrading fashion you absolute dumbfuck. that's why i say "degrading and emasculating" instead all the time and almost never "feminizing". you can actually feminize in a glorifying way but that's NOT why or how they do it. (also, don't go pretend making levi "toxically masculine" and "feminine" are similar levels of OOC either lmaooooo be serious. but anyway lets not derail.) shit like this should have made it fucking clear but i guess you need to be shoved into your face once more lmfao

all of this is just emasculation and degradation, so called femininity is just another tool. not only they do it but also they harass and mock people who like top levi and just mind their own business. the last one is about a dick size poll by the way, all eruris FOR SOME REASON UWU ganged up together to vote for that NPC so levi would lose lmfao 🥴 they're actually quite obsessed with the topic actually, wonder why!

"all you can do to stigmatize someone is claiming theyre eruri" Lol, like you stigmatize me and blame me of the source of every fucking bad thing that happens just bc i openly bash on a bunch of disgusting eruri stans? first of all, if an eruri is active in that fandom and isn't bothered about fanon at all, then yeah, they SHOULD be stigmatized. they can always come forth and criticize the harassment, fetishism, character hate, obvious ego wank their fandom participates in and prove themselves to be better. simple as that :)

you're pretty bold for someone who doesn't know such a fucking well-known steretoype. How the hell have you not heard "tall, dark and handsome" and "gentlemen prefer blondes"?

..just searched some things for you since you're so foreign to popular culture 🥴 searched the opposite too just to make sure lmaoooo and try not to be so fucking chronically online i guess!

I didn't say "cosmic" left invisible comments, i meant eruris orbiting that mf did. don't worry, i don't think mr high-and-mighty cosmic"joke" would ever engage in such suspicious behaviour LOL 😩

BUT this is the funniest fucking ""defense i ever saw LMAOOOOOO

lmao @cosmicjoke just curious...do you actually even believe what you wrote? or are you just that pathetically lacking in self-awareness? it literally takes an EFFORT to even scroll through how much you blabbered about me FOR DAYS, HOLY SHIT LMFAO. anyway, scroll away in this one i guess, since it includes some receipts from poor blameless wittle ewuwi fandom you're claiming is "mostly good" and just must be "defensive" to awful people such as myself :-(

Yeah, i said you woobiefied him (which is a degradation of character no matter how much you froth from mouth 🙂) and YOU wrote me 3 different wholeass paragraphs and in one of them accused me of sending you hate. And you still do, despite the fact i had literally no reason to do so. wanna suck up to eruri fandom that bad, huh? you're so fucking stupid and SO obsessed with retaining that moral highground you SO CLEARLY jack off to, you're even letting eruris who hate you using you to get back at me. who do you think those anons and sock accs you're chatting w are? "this dumb bitch comes at me with insults and accusations" what a hilarious sentence! can you write one sentence without projecting so intensely that you need to be in a mental ward?

"self shippers are so jealous uwu" OHHHHHH MY GOD LMAO. the fucking eruri rhetoric of GRAND PROJECTION. NO fucking self-shippers gives a fuck to eruri you absolute dumbass 😭 entire discourse happens bc eruris harass them (and other levi shippers) bc of THEIR OWN JEALOUSY holy fuck!!! how can you be so fucking disgustingly biased? and even though you know i also like rivaere and have no problem w other levi ships, you're trying to use me as a scapegoat to "prove" self-shippers are "homophobic" and against "gay ships" start discourse with real levi stans bc some of them also didn't validate your ridiculously awful levi takes apparently. even though you also should be well aware tons of OC shippers also enjoy or don't mind eruri, you're literally attacking people JUST bc they disagreed with you in a previous discourse, just like what you're doing to me right now.

LMAOOOO nobody's crying anything you braindead loser, and the only one getting "curb-stomped" is your pea-sized brain trying to generate a sentence that doesn't have five contradictions and failing pathetically. "if they just left a sentence exactly like what i had in mind uwuwuwu i wouldnt have started to froth from mouth uwuwuuw how dare they accuse me of woobiefying levi when i obv woobiefy him uwuuuwu 🥺" LMAO nobody is obligated to treat your fragile ass like glass, not my goddamn problem you're so fucking pathetic you start losing you GODDAMN MIND when someone strays a little outside what you deem as acceptable. i didn't throw insults or anything at first either, i just said what it is: that you woobiefy his character, and you clearly can't stand being told the truth. Once again: you %100000 woobiefy him and resent people who don't agree with you. the fact you're THIS vitriolic towards people (thanks for showing i wasn't the only one, at least!) acting like i tainted your honor shows that enough. you literally wrote a "call out" bc of one comment which YOU turned into a fight. you lack introspection madly and you constantly project, so ofc you're just gonna spiral into another fit of rage when you see this, but you can't fool people who are unbiased no matter how much you blabber on 🙂

Ohhh lmao, it reaaaaaaally couldn't be more obvious you have beef with people who like top levi. that's literally it. Do you fucking realize how goddamn creepy you are when you talk about how i must want to get "smacked around" by a man just bc i said you were woobiefying him? You're a fucking freak. You have no idea what i even like (since you're so curious, i enjoy a wiiide range of levi) but this doesn't have anything to do with what we talk, you think people don't woobiefy characters they like as tops? bc it's SUPER common in most fandoms. the way you immediate resort to talking about people's sexual fantasies is freak behaviour and shows where your true problem lies. and what does this even mean "what the actual reality of Levi's sexuality would likely be"? Do you think people who have trauma can't be dominant? "Assuredly wouldn't enjoy sexual aggression" Why, were you in the room when he was banging people? That's just your hc you're pushing as canon, AGAIN. You want everyone to act like their hcs are just ooc hcs, but they have to accept your hcs as canonical regardless of how much bullshit they are. There's this insane push against *any* top levi content from eruri stans which they dub exactly as you do even though it doesn't reflect the fanon at all, and it makes it TOO OBVIOUS what your real issue is. Lmao, an eruri shipper who has a problem w ppl who like top levi, what a fucking surprise! 🙂

also this is from that @p-ssypink imbecile who's also obv an eruri

stop projecting and pulling discourse out of your ass. "forced masculinization" levi is already a hypermasculine character in canon, you clown. which probably makes you cry :^) and what does this have to do with homophobia? you think all gay men are feminine? pretty sure such stereotyping constitutes as homophobia. anyway, i said "my deal is im in love w him" bc that clown said something like "your whole deal is your hate for eruri rather than stanning levi" i think that message was cut from the og. obv loving a character doesnt make anyone an authority. but "every eruri is out to get self shippers bc they're ego-maniacal lunatics who cant separate fanon from canon and only see levi as a smol bean omega bottom to be protected" Yes, you got one thing correct, congrats! :) 👏🏻 That's exactly how %99 of eruri shippers are like and anyone who has been in this fandom long enough knows that. But "to be protected" is misplaced, since they mostly get off on degrading and torturing him. sometimes they just like to pretend they have any sympathy for him since they've been accused of being levi haters since ALWAYS, lmfao, but don't worry, i can send you a lot where they admit that too. and ofc, the pretend sadness fits right into their agenda with that sad pathetic little doormat levi they want.

anyways. am i homophobic or are people who consistently emasculate a character in %99.9999 of their fanon bc they think being feminine or bottom is degrading the ones who are homophobic? or maybe calling him the f slur constantly, you'd think qualifies? you don't think treating him like a "little twink who's only job is to get fucked" is fetishistic and homophobic, is that tooootally okay for you? What about bullying and mocking people who think differently and forcing their hcs on them, is that fine?

"inability to top" hmmmmmm i wonder how do these people see t/b roles and why they're so aggressive about them 🤔

plotting to get a levi/oc video down....kudos on that courage to admit that on their main! 👏🏻

there are so many, this was veeeeeeery hard to pick tbh but here are just few examples. and no, these aren't just one off events or "bad apples" and all of these people are known eruris, and some have thousands of followers. you may accuse me of "making hating eruri my entire online identity" which is fine and dandy. but ENTIRE eruri fandom makes their identiy hating on what they deem is a threat to their glorification fantasy.

as a bonus here are some multishippers who love eruri talk about the same issue being so common as well 🙂

i think it should be clear why :')

and @jayteacups saying this nonsense, idk if theyre just playing obtuse but lmfao. some people just don't know mentality in shipping communities enough soooo

having an OC/self-insert have NOTHING TO DO with what im talking about when i criticize self-inserting/identifying etc with a character. and what i'm criticizing isn't even the fact they self-insert into a character lmfao, it's the entire toxicity it brings, bc through overly identifying w some inadequecy of a character (in this case it's obviously the fact levi's more popular and attractive than erwin that bothers them) they grow jealous and resentful, bend canon to alleviate their insecurity + derive ego wank and attack others who don't validate them. as a result, practically all they do is degrading levi in every way and use him as a validation device (and other characters too btw, just look at how they treat zeke) to make erwin come off "superior", gatekeeping levi bc they can't stand seeing him w other characters, even real life fangirls, both out of possessiveness but also bc it ruins their narrative where erwin's the "conventionally attractive" one. that's the reason for the push against people who like levi in a "hetero" way (read: Top, masculine, alpha, daddy, het, whatever bc they think it translates into "conventionally attractive" lmfao, and precisely why they love bi erwin but NEVER bi levi). and this isn't just against self-shippers, they treat every other levi fandom similarly, and these ships also get mocked as "self insert ships". ironic considering their treatment of erwin puts early ff.net mary sues to shame 🥴 they can't be honest about jackshit bc it ruins their glorification fantasy where erwin has to be the one that ship is all about. they're the definition of "have my cake and eat it too", they act like they barely tolerate levi just for erwin's sake but bitchfight over him every second with everyone, depict him as a one-sided simp for erwin, try to alleviate their insecurity by reducing him to a loser doormat while doing the exact opposites towards erwin.

⬇️ gotta be pretty self explanatory lmfao

^ Very famous and beloved people among eruris

despite the fact there's a lot of pushback, they'll still argue tooth and nail that women wouldn't like levi and would prefer erwin. Why do you think this is soooo important to them? :^) ⬇️ lol wonder why they want him to convince ppl he's "feminine" so bad! almost like it's bc they see it as unattractive and degrading! but sure, we're the sexist homophobes for hating eruri fans, right? oh and the white supremacist rhetoric also so common - bc i've never seen anyone refer to being blonde in MEN as a good thing outside eruri fandom - since it's a feminine stereotype. "tall DARK and handsome", no? :') But they'll use ANYTHING just to make erwin look better, so they're pretend it's related to generic beauty standards rather than, idk, fucking rantings from hitler's headquarters. maybe some other day i should post them calling him aryan, hmmm....

look at how they act towards even their own (rare good ones lmao) artists when they depict levi in a conventionally attractive way, they bash on it and call it "hetero" hmmm :')

Oh oops they already said the quiet part loud! 😱But going around shitting on artists and calling levi "erwin's submissive little bitch" is okay to you, right?

By the way, one of the anons cosmicjoke made a fake acc to come at me just now on twitter bc i called out one of the eruris calling levi f*ggot. Apparently according to them it's just no big deal, that's just calling levi "gay". :') linking it bc too many pics: https://x.com/emeraldsas77759/status/1801556666556559451

Just a small taste of what eruri fandom is like, since most people here on tumblr don't have a fucking clue. Anyway cosmic"joke", what an apt name. Now, you can puke blood all over all you want like the useless, pathetic eruri ass-kisser you are and write few other novels for my sake! don't get too comfy with those erwin stans who are now sending you their love instead of harassing you tho lmfao!

(^ bc they said levi had a bolo tie of his own and MAYBE he wasn't wearing erwin's bolo tie in the FUCKING OFFICIAL ART LMFAO)

"don't ruin the rep of our fandom they're not eruris uwu" Familiar argument, isn't it? :') bc THAT'S what they do, creating ungodly amounts of toxicity, shitting on everyone, intruding in everyone's spaces, then when they get even a little pushback, they start screeching like little rats trying to shift the blame on others. These are the people you defend when you defend eruris. But hey, you can continue to suck up to them, try not to step one milimeter out of line tho, saying levi isn't erwin's dog may get you death threats. Have fun, goodnight, good luck! 😘

#icb you bitchasses wrote shit like this 10 times a day about me thats insane like how am i being called obsessive aorund here

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edge0fmydesiree · 3 years ago

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FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

Thank you so much for the tag @ash-mcj and @falling-for-boys ! I adore ya's the bunches of bunches.

How many works do you have on AO3?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

124378

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

One, teen wolf 😌 BUT… I’m eyeing 9-1-1 Lone Star. Tarlos is calling my name. I CAN HEAR IT!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Truth Is, I… Theo gets hit with a truth spell.

Maybe You’ve Had Skin Next To Your Skin, But When Was The Last Time You Let Your Self Be Touched? Touched starved Theo, and Liam being a king and comforting him.

We Have Your Boyfriend Theo gets kidnapped. Kidnappers call Liam and assume Theo is Liam's boyfriend. HE REALLY WANTS FRENCH FRIES.

No Thing Theo and Liam have a thing. According to everyone else, at least, they have a thing. To Theo, they have no thing. Okay, so maybe they have a thing.

Holding Onto The Memories Of Us. (I really need to work on the next chapter). Theo had to leave. He couldn't stay. It was too painful. So, he leaves. He starts over, finds friends. He's happy, kind of. But, one by one, people from his past show up. Except for the one person he wants to show up.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes. Of course, I do. I appreciate and adore each and every comment, and kudos. I don’t ever expect it, but it’s the best kind of surprise to wake up to. They always make me smile. I appreciate the comments more than I can say, and in return, I want them to know how much I appreciate them. Plus, I love talking to people and fangirling over our shared love.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Not gonna lie. I always try to have the ending hopeful. Not to say the fic itself isn’t angsty. (Again, blaming @falling-for-boys @attempted--eloquence @frustrateddumbbar and @inabottlelikelightning for my long-ass angsty faze).

But I think it would have to be a multi-chapter fic for @thecenturiestrickle : Holding Onto The Memories Of Us. The ending of the last chapter is kind of an angsty cliffhanger, I guess.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No, and I don’t see myself doing any crossovers anytime soon.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully, no. I guess that comes with having only a small group of people who read my fics. I know a lot of more popular authors get hate, and I don't envy them. Getting hate on something you're proud of and worked so hard on sucks.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Listen… I am an INNOCENT bean, okay. I enjoy reading it. But writing smut is an area that I am NOT skilled in. So I will leave that to the professionals; thank you very much. (Writers who write smut, put into their fic’s, I applaud you).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I don't think so

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Lol, no. I’m not at the level that gets your work translated.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. But I have plans too, with one of my favourite people. I’m excited about it. I have collaborated with an author I really admire @jmeelee. I was her artist for her amazing fic: Like Rain In Spring.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Thiam. AND I STAND BY IT.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

LISTEEEEN. Okay, so there’s this puppy pack fic I was writing for @falling-for-boys Which I have every intention of finishing. Eventually. Maybe. Probably.

But while I was trying to write this fic, I read all her WIPs that were never published—WHICH SHOULD BE A CRIME! THEY’RE SO GOOD. But I’ve read them, so I’m cool with it. They were very angst heavy. It was also around the time a lot of my favourite authors were bring out Angsty fics. I HAD A LOT OF EMOTIONS. None of them the right tone for my crack, humorous, puppy pack fic. I literally couldn’t write it. Maybe now I’m in a lighter, happier mindset, I can finish it. Maybe. Possibly.

What are your writing strengths?

That I finish the fic.

What are your writing weaknesses?

That I finish the fic.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Love it! I’m a sucker for character’s who are multilingual. I will probably incorporate that into my Tarlos fics. If I ever finish it. Writings hard you guys!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Teen Wolf

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

At this moment, probably: Let's Say All Of The Things That We Couldn’t Before.

It deals with themes that I feel very passionate about, and the content is an area I work closely in. I’m no expert, have never experienced it myself, and I hope I did it justice.

#ask game #thanks so much for the ask!#thiam

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lizzieraindrops · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny) Characters: Saint-14 (Destiny), Osiris (Destiny) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Self-Destructive Tendencies, Caretaking, Trauma, Comfort, Trauma Recovery, Loss, slow-developing relationship, not in the fic but like in universe, Sometimes New Trauma Reignites Old Trauma!! Summary:

Sometimes you need to be with the only person you'd feel safe to break down around, even if you never have. In the immediate wake of Sagira's death, Osiris comes to find Saint in the City. POV Saint-14.

wrote this because i made a fic-writing pact with @hencegoodfortune

i have never destined a knee in my life but i am care about sad bird boys

read here or on AO3

Saint had never thought the sight of Osiris would strike dread into his heart. But there was something completely wrong with the sharp-soft-fluid outline of his gleaming helm, his cowl’s feathery tresses and the flowing robes. His posture remained as impeccable as always as he strode through the echoing Tower hangar. Yet something troubled the lines of him. It was as if each exposed surface were on the verge of collapsing inward on a vacuum, and the only thing preventing it was the sheer force of his considerable will. Saint had never seen him like this. A cold feeling ran through his body as if injected directly into the ducts of his circulatory ichor.

“Osiris,” he whispered, even though they were not yet within earshot. Saint trotted out on restless feet from the shadow of the Gray Pigeon to meet him. They drew together at the end of the long sun-emblazoned rug that sprawled before his ship. Saint could not help but begin to reach for Osiris, but he stopped when he saw the man’s unresponsive stiffness.

“Hello, Saint,” he said shortly. He crossed his arms. Only a stripe of his upper face showed between his helm and his mask. The lines around his eyes had gone flat and the ones between his brows had deepened.

“What is wrong?”

“Take your pick. This time? The Hive.”

“No. What is wrong?”

Osiris just gave him a pained look. “We should speak inside.”

Saint nodded acquiescence. He turned his feet back onto the path of the rug, slightly crooked: a rumpled casualty of Guardians playing soccer in the hangar. After only a moment’s hesitation, he offered his arm to Osiris, looking at him in askance.

Osiris blinked, surprised. Then it was Saint’s turn to be surprised when Osiris tucked one hand into the bend of his elbow and placed the other hand atop it, gently squeezing and encircling his armored forearm. They fell in step together and walked all the way back to the ship that way. If Saint hadn’t been so worried, the rare tenderness would have left him radiating contentment.

Saint took them to the Gray Pigeon’s close yet comfortable living quarters. It was just a simple serviceable room with a few little tables and a bunk, and probably more cushioned seats than the space warranted. Saint took a seat in one of them and removed his helmet so he could take a proper look at Osiris, who was doing the same. His skin looked weathered, as always, but darker than usual below the eyes. They both sat their helms down on the table between them, trying not to knock over the abandoned teacups there.

Osiris’ lip quirked at the sight of their tea-stained insides. “Ikora has been here, I see.”

“Indeed,” Saint chuckled. “A woman of fine taste. She believes the tea grown in the City these days tastes different than it did a few centuries ago. Less… what was it? Astringent? Smoother now, she said, more mellow. She wanted the opinion of someone who has not been drinking it throughout the entire transition as she has.”

“Of course she did.”

“Yes.” Saint eyed the way Osiris’ hands molded themselves to the armrest of the chair and went still. Likewise, his feet remained flat on the floor. His usual energetic presence, like an overflowing cup, was now subdued, stilled as if frozen. Saint waited for him to melt and kept talking.

“You would think I am the perfect test subject. I had not tasted tea for many, many years since I left the City. And I certainly had tea with Ikora many times before that, when your studies distracted you from visitors. She and I had many fine conversations. After my return, I ought to be perfectly poised in time to tell the difference.

“Ah, but I think my answers disappoint her. I do not know, because for me, everything has become new again. Not only the tea and the cookies - there are the new faces of all the new Lights and of the Traveler itself, and the City has grown, of course. But even that which remains the same still feels different now, yes? New eyes,” he said, watching Osiris’ softly closed ones.

“It is sometimes hard to tell the changes in others from the changes in myself. So yes, Ikora’s tea remains a mystery. I shall be surprised if she does not recruit you for her research, as well. If you stay in the City for more than a few hours, that is.”

“Hmm.” Osiris’ rigid demeanor had softened, but he had crossed his arms, head bowed. His eyes were still closed.

“I did not even know you were in the City,” Saint said, softer. “I believed you to be still roaming the Shore for answers. Geppetto has heard nothing from Sagira, not even a hail when you arrived.”

Osiris flinched.

The cold that had flooded Saint earlier crystallized into pure ice.

“Osiris. Is she -“

“Like I said. The Hive,” Osiris said shortly, unmoving.

“Oh, my dear,” Saint breathed. He stood up only to kneel before Osiris in his chair, reaching for his hand. Osiris let him take it. Even in its glowing gauntlet, his hand was so small. No wonder it was so tense yet listless, without that brilliant presence shining beside him like a second sun to his own fiery brightness.

The initial rush of grief made the pistons in Saint’s chest hurt, aching from his core to his broad plated shoulders to the twisted cables of his neck. But he set it aside for now: Osiris needed him.

But Osiris had other ideas. He withdrew his hand from Saint’s caress.

“The Hive are going to pay.”

“Undoubtedly they will. That does not mean you cannot take the time to grieve.”

“I do not have time for this. Time is critical. Xivu Arath is fast approaching, and growing more powerful each day. The intelligence I have gleaned regarding her methods and movements is invaluable, and I must -“

“You do not need to do this alone, Osiris.” Saint rose to his feet.

Looking wounded, Osiris stood as well. “I am well aware that I cannot, now, Saint. But I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything necessary to avenge Sagira. To that end, I’ve enlisted the Young Wolf’s assistance.”

“Yet you are still acting as you always do. As if you must do everything yourself.”

“I cannot simply stand by! Without her, there is even more I must do, all that she would normally do for me.” Osiris broke his fierce stare and cast his eyes downward. “It is the very least I can do when I am the reason she is gone.”

If Saint could have cried, he would have then. How strange it was, to be separated by fourteen lives and untold centuries from the last tear he could possibly have shed, and yet still long for a release he could not even remember.

“Osiris,” he said, voice low. He slipped off the shining metal of one of his gauntlets, so that he could lift Osiris’ face with the most delicate touch of two brushed-alloy fingers on his dear, scruffy chin. “It is not your fault.”

Osiris’ eyes followed his fingers, traced his face. “It is,” he said hoarsely. “She even told me not to pursue the Celebrant on the Moon alone. I was rash.”

“Be that as it may, I know you would never willingly harm her. You have already told me this was the doing of the Hive.”

“Saint, please don’t…”

“Then why did you come to me?” Saint set his other gauntlet aside and cupped Osiris’ face in his bare hands. “Surely you knew I would not let you be cruel to yourself.”

Glistening golden-brown eyes rested between gleaming silver fingers. “I needed to know you were still here.”

“I am here. Because of you.”

Osiris looked away and laid his hands on Saint’s wrists, pulling himself free.

“You would not have been lost in the first place had I not betrayed you, as well. I will not make the same mistake a third time. I will learn to take responsibility for my actions, and do what it takes to contain the fallout.”

“You are not taking responsibility, you are punishing yourself.”

“Two birds, one stone,” Osiris sighed. He drew away from Saint while he was stricken into stillness by the statement’s casual cruelty. The negative space between them wrenched at the pins of Saint’s every joint like it was a magnetic field, and he made of nothing but so much iron filings.

Saint fell an unsteady step forward, but Osiris was already picking up his helm and angling himself toward the door. Saint did not need to simulate the future to know that if Osiris left in a state like this, he would likely not return.

“Osiris. Just - stop.”

Osiris stopped. The feathers of his cowl floated idly, suspended and directionless in the close air of the small room.

“Do not do this. If you will not hear your own pain, hear mine. Do not do to me what I did to you.”

Beneath the morbid weight of his resignation, Osiris went rigid. He turned to look at Saint, really look at him. Yes, he’d faced Saint before, many times, with exasperation in his brows or fondness around his eyes. Saint had been thinking about how he’s seen more and more of the latter lately.

But this gaze was something piercing and haunted. In it, Saint could hear the echoes of a keening that had never fallen on his ears, could see the marks left by an invisible memory wrapped around the man before him like grappling vines of poison ivy. He watched Saint, wordless and wounded.

“If you continue like this, you will hurt yourself, not to mention those who care for you. Sagira would not have wanted -“ Saint broke off, looking down at his fist. Its faint tremor faded as he sank deep into himself as if into the Void, calling stillness into his shaking.

“I am afraid, Osiris. For you and for myself. I do not want to lose you. I do not think I can bear that. I have seen the way you still look at me. Like...”

“Like?”

“Like you are... like I am still lost to you. I have seen how that loss haunts you, even though you have flown in the face of everything to undo it and succeeded. Even when you are finally here, your mind slips away like you cannot bear to be here. Are you still searching?”

“Of course not.” Osiris’ eyes did not meet his.

“Then what is it?”

Silence. “You died, Saint.”

“I am sorry.”

Osiris blinked, looked at him again. “You are apologizing for dying?” he said, skeptical.

“For causing you such hurt that it did this to you. Even in the best of all timelines that brought us both here: I hurt you.”

“Saint,” he said, reaching out for his hands and seeming unaware that he did so. Saint held them oh so gently, afraid they’d fly away.

“You cannot - Saint, you died,” he repeated. “This isn’t your fault. I’m the one who should be -“

“Oh, it is always about you, is it,” Saint chuckled.

Osiris scoffed. He made as if to pull his hands away. But when Saint made no move to stop him, he stopped himself.

“Truly, my dearest. If our places had been reversed, I have no doubt that the endless loss would come to outweigh the pain of the long but finite fall, in the end.” Saint closed his eyes. “Please, do not reverse our places. Losing each other once was enough. I have no brilliant schemes, no Sundial to bring you back, nothing but the strength of my arms and of my heart. And we have already proven that those are not enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It is true. I died before I could find you.”

Saint’s fingers were seized in a sudden vise grip. “Don’t. Do not speak that way. You are enough. You have always been so much more than enough. To me, you are - you are.”

“You know I feel the same.” They were standing so close, it was simplicity itself to bow his forehead to touch Osiris’.

“I know.”

“Then why? Why cannot you allow yourself to rest, here with me, even now? Especially now? Let me care for you.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I don’t know how,” came the whisper, barely loud enough to carry the short distance. “You should not bother with me.”

“Oh, my dove,” Saint sighed, and pulled Osiris to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. There, in Saint’s arms, Osiris finally crumpled against him like an empty spinfoil can as the absence inside him yawned wide, swallowing any resistance left in him. “Hush. I will always bother with you. I am here.”

Since arriving in this strange, strange future, touch, like everything else for Saint, had been different. Titan to his roots, bracing claps on the back and casual embraces had always been his native language of both camaraderie and comfort. With the long familiarity between him and Osiris, it had been easy enough to believe that an arm slung around the warlock’s shoulders or their hands long clasped in victory were merely an extension of the same. Though Osiris had often complained in mock protest, he had rarely refused the contact. Neither of them had admitted that it meant more until it was too late.

Now, though, in this City brighter than either of them remembered, every moment of this second chance was overwhelming. It was one thing to spend endless years isolated, touch-starved and battle-weary only to arrive in the new Tower, where homemade pastries were handed to him by scores of soft-handed civilians and eager-eyed Kinderguardians crowding close enough to brush shoulders with a legend. Though at first it jolted him like sparking Arc, each casual touch brought him a little more back to life.

It had been something else entirely to find the person he spent centuries searching for finally standing before him, close enough to touch. The idea of contact was a little too much for both of them, at first. They’d had to start sparingly: a palm on a shoulder, none too rough; knees or elbows brushing together when they could be avoided, but weren’t. It wasn’t the same as before they were separated by so much space and time and suffering, and they both knew it. The shape of Osiris was so familiar to him, but the illumination of that mutual knowledge made the lean old frame as new to Saint as those endless lost years did, if in another wholly different way. Together, such perspectives made a simple caress pierce him like a shout of devotion. They made a hand on a hand, on a heart, a home.

Although Saint was learning how to let the immensity of such small closenesses become mundane, he was near engulfed by the reality of Osiris, now yielding the entire weight of his body to Saint’s protective embrace while he shook and shuddered and clung like a desperate and heartbroken thing. It was so much, but the only thing Saint could do was hold him, hold his shattering self close and dear.

Saint had never seen him break like this. When the pressure of the lives laid at his feet as Vanguard Commander had become too much, he had always been more given to bouts of brooding and intensive study for sleepless days on end. But through all of that, Osiris had always had Sagira, who knew when to jolt him out of his melancholy with a sharp word, to soothe his weariness with a wash of Light, or to nag him into a semblance of eating and resting. No more. Though Saint could not weep, Osiris’ tears traced a shining abstract filigree upon his silvered breastplate. He ran soothing fingers along his spine with touch-aching hands, needing to offer any comfort he possibly could. Saint held him and waited for the storm of grief to subside.

Saint ended up seated on the rug on the floor, leaning against the side of one of the chairs with Osiris draped across his lap and curled against his chest.

“I do not know…” Osiris murmured. His head was tucked under Saint’s chin, one arm upraised to blindly trace the deep-violet ridge of Saint’s plated cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“What do you not know?” Saint asked just as softly.

“How to do this. Without her. Without the Light.”

“Mmmm,” Saint mused. He adjusted his grip around Osiris’ waist, making sure he was secure. The weight of him was comforting. “You will grieve. And you will learn. You are the strongest person I know. And that has nothing to do with your Light, your prowess in battle, or even your Ghost, may her Light be a bright and blessed memory. It has everything to do with just you. Just the strength of your heart, your determination, your tenacity. You, my dear.”

Osiris scoffed half-heartedly. “She was always the better of the two of us.”

Saint chuckled deep in his voicebox, his jawlights flickering gold. “She would agree. But of all the people in all of history she could have chosen to raise, she chose you for a reason. If you cannot trust my judgement, perhaps you can trust hers.”

Osiris uncurled and sat up to look at him, face to face. “Well, you can hardly claim not to be biased in my favor.”

Saint barked a laugh. “Take the compliment, you terrible man.”

“Hm, I suppose I am terrible. But you like it.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Hmm,” Osiris said again. He brushed a light kiss against Saint’s sharp lips, making his purple optics go bright with surprise. What a sheer paradoxical kind of beauty, that this unfamiliar and unprecedented form of touch between them should feel the most natural of all.

Osiris studied his face, tracing every detail, his eyes soft yet alert like the morning sun. “Thank you, my love,” he said.

Saint hugged him, hard. “Welcome home, my bird.”

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #o14 #saint 14 #osiris #destiny saint 14 #destiny osiris #long post #lizzie's adventures in writing #local lesbian takes a detour from her usual territory of traumatized ladies to bring you: SAD BIRD BOYS #fear not we will be returning to our regularly scheduled programme soon!#i have never in my life destined a knee #i'm just a little lore gremlin #nO i don't play destiny yES i am gay for eris morn #but we'll get to that later #destinewt

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7thheaven2021 · 4 years ago

Photo

Welcome to Seven Days in (Seventh) Heaven, where we celebrate the Tifa-centric ships <3

Submissions open on March 21 2021. The challenge runs until March 27 2021, and the Ao3 collection will close to submissions on April 21 2021.

Sunday 21st March: ::: New Beginnings ::: ::: “Please, don’t go.” ::: ::: Sunrise/Sunset :::

Monday 22nd March: ::: Wild Card (Anything Goes) ::: ::: “My shirts look good on you.” ::: ::: Star-Crossed Lovers :::

Tuesday 23rd March: ::: 6 Months, 2 Weeks, 5 Minutes ::: ::: The Life I Never Knew I Wanted ::: ::: “I Forgive You.” :::

Wednesday 24th March: ::: Mine ::: ::: Turk/SOLDIER Tifa ::: ::: “Come here.” :::

Thursday 25th March: ::: Friends/Enemies With Benefits ::: ::: “You don’t know what you do to me.” ::: ::: When She Sleeps Under The Morning Light :::

Friday 26th March: ::: “I never stood a chance, did I?” ::: ::: Honeybee Tifa ::: ::: “Stay with me tonight.” :::

Saturday 27th March: ::: Free Day (Anything Goes) ::: ::: “Make me.” ::: ::: "I am in a dress, I have gel in my hair, I haven't slept all night, I'm starved, and I'm armed! Don't *mess* with me!" :::

All creative content welcome! Please tag your work #SeventhHeaven2021 to be retweeted on our Twitter or our Tumblr

ALL ships involving Tifa Lockhart are welcome here. We don't discriminate <3

FAQ:

Q: What content can I create?

A: Anything! Fanfiction, fanart, poetry, cosplay... Anything that the prompts inspire you to create!

Q: I don't ship a rarepair. Can I still contribute?

A: YES! We support ALL ships here, so whether your OTP is Cloud/Tifa or you're jumping through hoops to make RufTi work, your submissions are welcome :)

Q: Do I have to create for every day of the challenge?

A: No! Have an idea for every single day? Great! Want to pick and choose? No problem! Got an idea that combines more than one prompt? We can't wait to see it!

Q: Can I share W.I.Ps in the run-up to the challenge?

A: Of course! If you're working on anything and you want to tease it, please tag it #SeventhHeaven2021 to be retweeted/reblogged.

Q: What are the Wild Card/Free Day prompts?

A: These two prompts are for any ideas people have that don't fit in with the other prompts. Anything goes, provided Tifa Lockhart is a central character.

Q: Is there a minimum/maximum word count?

A: No! Whether it's a 100-word drabble or a 25 chapter multi-fic, all fic/poem lengths are welcome!

Q: Can I create more than one submission each day?

A: Of course! This challenge is all about representation for the Tifa ships. The more, the merrier :D

Q: Can I use a prompt from a different day on Wild Card/Free Day?

A: Sure! Anything goes if you're using these prompts, so if you want to take a stab at a prompt from another day that's absolutely fine.

Rules:

~Submissions open on March 21 2021. The challenge runs until March 27 2021, but the Ao3 group and Socials will remain active until April 21 2021

~ALL Tifa based ships are welcome. NO ship bashing

~Tag your work #NSFW where applicable. NSFW content that isn't tagged won't be reblogged/retweeted

~Tag #SeventhHeaven2021 on Twitter/Tumblr so we can find you and share your work!

~All types of creative content welcome

#SeventhHeaven2021 #prompt challenge #prompts #challenge week #final fantasy vii #ffvii #fanart #fanfiction #reti #cloti #vinti #aerti #rufti #rudti #tifa #tifa lockhart

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sunarintoes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Whovever: [Kenma]

Synopsis: You and Kenma are both best friends and youtube gamers however you want to be more than just best friends so you decide to ‘man up’ one day and write a heart felt confession in a minecraft notebook before then putting it in Kenma’s personal chest.

WC: 3K

TW: slight swearing :)

[Episode one]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!]

“Hey gamers, Kodzuken here with Tulip-but-make-it-yellow! I've done a few Minecraft videos with Tulip before, but thought I'll start a new series that will be posted every Monday.”

“It's called Minedays with Tulip and Kodzu”

“I- no, Tulip. I'm not sure what we’re gonna call it. But you guys will know- obviously since it's the title of this video.”

You whine and pout into the monitor, “Kodzu I think Minedays is a cute name.”

Instead of replying Kenma rolls his eyes and hits you ingame. “Should we introduce the challenge and get it started?”

“Yeah that's a good idea!”

“Well, it's about eleven am right now, we have until eleven pm to build a Minecraft house from a random topic,” he pauses and moves to the side to point to a sectioned spinwheel, “on this bad boy,” whacks the spinner, “we have eight different themes, in a sec I’ll spin it and whatever it lands on will be what we have to build.”

You let out a high pitched ‘hmm,’ “I feel bad for Kuroo and Hinata, they’re both going to have to edit twelve hours of footage down to 10 minutes!”

Kenma chuckles, “fifteen minutes actually.”

This time you roll your eyes. “Hurry up and spin it you fool! I want to get buildinggg”

Smiling, Kenma moves back a bit and spins the wheel, after thirty seconds full of anticipation the wheel finally stops and its small arrow is pointing at- “Yes! Cottage core theme!” you yell out while Kenma groans.

“Really? That's lame why couldn't we have ‘Lucifer’s Bedroom’?”

You poke your tongue out to the monitor - which Kenma could see, after all, you are in a Discord call with him. “Don't be sad just because you're prancing in my turf…. Looooooser!”

Kenma playfully glares towards you, “You’re on! See you in twelve hours!”

Unfortunately, the difficulty of building a cottage core house in the woods - in survival mode, proved more difficult than planned.

“We spawned in a desolate area huh? Barely any flowers!” you hear Kenma make a sound of agreement as you sink into your comfortable ‘gamer’ styled chair.

“Don't tell me you've given up? Just because you can't find any flowers?”

You scowl at his cocky tone however your mood does a one-eighty when you suddenly get a good idea. “Ok everyone! I know what I have to do! I'm going to restart in another place because this isn’t working!”

Kenma makes a sound of surprise, “you're restarting? It's been an hour already-”

“Yeah and we have, like... eleven more.” Kenma sighs in response, “better get a move on.”

For the most part, the two of you kept quiet - not wanting to let the other know how well you were doing. However one look at your phone only to see that your twitter has blown up, you decide to take a short break, after all it has been four hours of you sitting on your ass playing Minecraft. Once you open Twitter you're met with a barrage of tags and mentions - all of which screaming ‘KenYn’ and ‘Kodzutulip.’ You felt heat rise to your face, you - yes you, Ln Yn with the online alias Tulip-but-make-it-yellow, has a big, fat, humongous crush on your best friend and fellow youtuber - Kenma, aka Kodzuken aka the cutest guy in the world. To make it worse - or better, you couldn't really tell, was that many of your viewers shipped you with him - as did his viewers.

You are of course, happy with this but you can’t help but wonder if Kenma feels the same way, does he feel weirded out by all this shipping content? Does he find it uncomfortable? Does he find it unsettling to be shipped with his in-real-life best friend?

“Hey Yn?” Kenma calls softly, “you've been looking at your phone for the past ten minutes and your face looks sad.”

You instantly look up to meet Kenma’s face and try to find the right words to say, “I… I’m just kinda tired and eventually got distracted!! Sorry Kenken!”

Kenma visibly cringes at the old nickname - the one you gave him in primary school, “if you say so… better get your head in the game though - my mansion looks epic.”

Your eyes narrow, “mansion? The theme is cottage core!” Kenma quietly chuckles in response, “a mansion can still have a fairy aesthetic, you should know that”

You huff in faux annoyance as you place your phone away and ‘get your head in the game’ just as he requested. “Be prepared to be crushed! I am the cottage core guardian!”

There are ten minutes left to your’s and Kenma’s excruciatingly long Minecraft challenge, your ass hurts from sitting on it for almost twelve straight hours - including bathroom breaks. When the buzzer rings the two of you step back from your respective buildings and make your way to the starting point - which had been marked by a stack of 20 or so dirt blocks.

“Well that was twelve hours of eye straining torture,” you say as you stretch your arms.

“You're tired already?”

“Kinda… I can't wait to go to sleep after this.”

“Weak, I’m playing Battlefield as soon as this is over.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “this is why you look like a living corpse in the morning…”

Kenma looks you dead in the eyes and with a completely serious face he says, “yeah but you love it.”

You choke on your spit at his boldness, “y-yeah I guess.”

If you were being honest, you were not the best at reading people and it was dark in Kenma’s gaming room, the only light coming from his three screen/monitor computer setup, but you think you see a light blush creep up to his cheeks. And you hate it, you hate when he says things that make your heart flutter, you hate it when he just sits there and the digital glow accentuates all of his delicate features, but what you hate most is yourself. You hate yourself because you have fallen in love with your best friend, you hate yourself because you know he doesn't like you back and you hate that you continuously give yourself a sense of false hope.

“Yn… you want to stay up and game with me don’t you? ”

You sheepishly look to the side, ‘mayhaps.’

Kenma sighs looking at you with a soft face as he whispers “then I won’t play Battlefield and I’ll go to bed and so will you, ‘kay?”

You smile tiredly at him, “sounds like a deal.”

“We'll get back on at the same time tomorrow and we’ll do the final part of this video - the reveal. Until then.”

You smile and wave at the camera “cya soon~”

[recording over]

After your call with Kenma ended you got ready for bed but for some reason, no matter how tired you were, you just couldn't fall asleep - your mind was screaming obscene ideas that you couldn't help but contemplate. At first it was just wishful thinking but then came a thought that refused to leave, ‘confess.’

It was a tempting thought, but how? Surely you couldn't just say ‘hey Kenma I've liked you since high school lets date!’ yeah no, that was a horrible idea. Maybe if you confessed with some originality he would be more likely to accept but for now, you were going to do your best to go to sleep.

[Episode two]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!]

In the morning you woke up feeling refreshed and excited for the day to come, Kenma had texted you and asked if you were feeling up to recording the reveal from last night and episode two today and of course you said yes.

The video goes on without any troubles and soon you find yourself staring at the computer screen at eleven once again.

“Remember to like, subscribe and comment below on who you think won this round.” Kenma’s voice is soothing - if you had to describe it you would say that it is silky like honey and smooth like dark chocolate; or maybe you would just say his voice is perfect. Kenma waves to the screen monitor, “hello? Earth to Yn! Are you dead or something? You look like a zombie.”

It takes a while to register, you weren’t really paying attention to the words he said as you were more interested in the way he sounded. You sit up and smile into the camera, “I'm awake… thanks for caring!”

He scoffs and swivels in his chair a bit, “I don't care about you, you're just my idiot best friend and flatmate.”

You playfully narrow your eyes, “well this idiot flatmate of yours helped you bake apple pie so you wouldn’t starve to death!”

“Hmmm, I guess. Well I'm going to head off. I'll see you later.”

You smile softly, “yeah I'll see you later, i'm just gonna stay on for a while.”

Kenma looks at you with an intrigued expression, “you're going to stay up longer? Better not be in this world, that's cheating. Want me to stay up with you?”

You roll your eyes and giggle, “it's all good I want to fix my house up in the other world. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He sighs, “if you say so.”

[recording over]

Your chair rolls back as you stretch, “maybe I should confess to him through a Minecraft journal…” you jump up. “Thats it! Thats a great way to confess! Its original and Kenma would appreciate it…. If he accepts my feelings that is…”

You groan and slump back down into the chair, “maybe it’s best if I don't confess at all. No! I've wanted to do this for years! If he doesn't like me back it's all good! Maybe I just won't do this on a stream!”

You reach over to the bench and pull up your phone, “who to call, mmm ok let’s call Alisa I’m going to need some emotional support!”

“Hey gamers, Kodzu here in another Minecraft live stream, today we’re just in mine and Yn’s regular world and i'm going to build a house - a cottage to be specific,” he pauses and looks at the comment section; ‘no Yn isn't here right now, no Yn won't be joining this video, no I didnt know shes streaming at the moment, yes my favourite food is apple pie, yes I have a calico cat, no Yn is not my significant other, yes we are just friends.’ Kenma moves back and takes a breath, “wow you guys sure are interested in Yn huh? Maybe I should get them in more videos, might get more views that way,” he laughs a bit.

“Let's start off by heading to my base, I have the materials I’ll need there- oh uh what's this?” Kenma pauses as he stares at the foreign object, “I don't remember having a written book in my chest… maybe Yn went in here and put it in?”

Kenma stares at the book for a while before he opens it, only to be shocked. The comment section notices the blush on his face and continue to spam him with questions:

[kodzusbabe]: what's in that diary!!

[Kenmastan]: hahAAAHHA LOOK HE’S SO RED IN THE FACE

[piefacecutie]: ^^ omg you're so right @/Kenmastan hes so cute 💓

[Kenmaxyn]: I hope it's a confession!

[ynhater]: @/Kenmaxyn from who? Cause I didn't do it and I'd be the only one for Kenma oppAr

[kennismaken]: I hope it’s Yn! They’d be such a cute couple

[applepudding]: umm? Kodzu! Why did he get up and leave??

[ynhater]: babe come back!

[Kenmaxyn]: OMG MAYBE IT WAS YN !!!!

After your late night call with Alisa, you decided it would be best to just do it and then ignore Kenma for the day - well, not ignore him per se, just simply decline all his Discord calls and Facetime calls so you could put off being rejected a little while longer. You woke up with a throbbing headache that you could only blame yourself for, after all you are the dumbass who stayed up until God knows when just to write a heartfelt confession. Eventually the angst of waiting for a message from Kenma overwhelmed you and here you are now; streaming Overwatch to get your mind off of a certain someone.

“Ah no! Cant believe that stupid Hanzo got me! What a pain!” you frown at the screen and let out a sigh, “the round is over… bummer. Well while we wait an eternity for the next round I guess I should answer some of your questions… oh? I didn't know Kenma was streaming, no I’m not dating him… “ you feel your heart sink as you read the next comment; “what do you mean Kenma ran away after reading a book? Was he unhappy?”

The next moments felt like a blur, your heart was heavy and you felt tears well up in your eyes and somehow you missed the sound of someone breaking into your apartment and then your bedroom. Within a second you feel someone wrap their arms around you from behind, your body tenses up but immediately relaxes when you recognise the perpetrators scent; sweet yet salty, like caramel toffee.

“Kenma! W-what are you doing?”

“I like you too… I have for so long.”

Your eyes widen and it doesn't take too long for a smile to appear on your face, “I'm so glad to hear that.”

You feel him smile into your neck as his embrace tightens, “finish up your livestream so we can talk please.”

“You don't need to tell me twice!”

It is eleven at night once again, but this time you’re not sitting alone in your gaming chair, instead you're sitting on Kenma’s lap - in his gaming chair as he slowly runs his hands through your hair and softly kisses your neck.

“So everyone’s pretty much freaking out over us huh?” you hum in response, “we’ve been officially together for what? Five hours?”

“Correct you are.”

You smile and hold up your phone while you continue to cuddle into him, “smile baby, I want the whole world to know that you're my player two.”

[Bonus - the love letter]

Dear Kenma,

This must be so strange - finding a journal in your chest.

I have wanted to tell you this for quite a while and I guess I have never found the write words to say; or the right way to for that matter,

But I love you

I have loved you since our first year at Nekoma

It's been a while hasn’t it?

I'm sorry if this inconveniences you, makes you uncomfortable or makes you never want to see me again;

Just let me continue for a little while longer because I need to get this off of my mind.

I love your smile - especially the rare one where you really smile, where your eyes crinkle and your cheeks begin to hurt

I love your voice - it’s smooth and silky, like honey being spread across bread

I love your scent - it reminds me of salted caramel, I can never get enough

I love your mind - the way it works to make me laugh, make me calm and all else

I love your lips - not necessarily in a sexual way, but more so in the way you talk and speak, they move softly and slowly in a way only your lips could move in.

I love your body - how although you're hunched most of the time you still possess a fine elegance in the way you move. How at times it reminds me of a graceful swan floating down a lake.

I love your hands - they are so pretty and dainty and soft, I want to hold them all day and all night

And most of all;

I love you

I love you in your entire

I could go ahead and pick the parts I love most and least but then you would no longer be you

I love you in your entire

Flaws and all

I know this may not be the most romantic, especially considering you’re reading this through Minecraft and I've never done this before but I had to let you know

Love

Taglist: [open] @ladyrenart

note: sooo this is another style that i tried and i have mixed feelings about it :) also if you can’t tell,,, i’ve never written a love letter before :’)

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma angst #dear whoever #dear whoever: a haikyuu series #kozume kenma x reader

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theladyofdeath · 5 years ago

Text

Rags & Riches {16}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: I never realize how much I drop “fuck” until I proofread...ah, oh well. 5 chapters left. Do y’all mind when I post 2 chapters in 1 day? yay? nay? I’ll only do 1 if it’s too much, but either way, R&R will be finishing up, soon.

Enjoy (you know, if possible).

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

One month had passed since they arrived in Hybern.

They had endured one battle, which lasted two weeks. Many of Hybern’s men went down, but a large number perished from their own side, too.

Even when they relaxed at camp, they were always on alert, always kept one eye open.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand sat around the fire.

The three of them had created quite the bond, never leaving one another’s side - both in battle, and out. Rhysand had an opportunity to stay away from the front lines because of his title, but he did not. He stayed with Azriel and Cassian, refusing the opportunity without any hesitation.

“Elain says she should start showing soon,” Azriel announced, the other two looking up from their letters. “She also says morning sickness is getting much worse.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Cassian grinned. “If a little you was growing inside of me, I would probably feel like shit, too.”

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah.”

Cassian knew that Azriel’s chest ached as he wondered how long he would have to be away. It seemed as if the war had only just begun, but he felt like he had been away from Elain for far too long.

“Any news from Feyre or Nesta?” Azriel asked.

“Feyre says Nesta is being extra bitchy,” Rhysand mumbled. “Other than that, she says she wrote to Elain, telling her to visit soon and their father is finally getting back this week. Oh, and they got a dog. Named him Oswald.”

“Oswald?” Azriel asked, brows raised. “That’s a….nice….name.”

Rhysand snorted. “And Nesta?”

They both looked at Cassian, who was reading his letter with narrowed eyes. “She gave me an update on the weather, says it has been raining a lot. I also hear of Oswald, and it is a terrible name, so don’t lie. She said she put a gift in here for me, but there was nothing in the paper.” He looked around for the envelope to put the letter back inside, and once he found it, and opened it up, he froze.

Azriel raised his brows as Rhysand reached for the envelope.

Cassian quickly put it out of his reach.

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

Cassian put the letter back in the envelope and closed it. “Nothing. A photograph.”

Azriel blinked. “Of what?”

“Hmmm,” Rhysand hummed, leaning back. “Is this photograph of Nesta?”

“You will never know, will you?” Cassian asked.

“Is she nude?” Azriel chimed.

Cassian backed up, toward his tent. “I am going to bid you both goodnight.”

Rhysand howled as Azriel’s grin widened. “Alright. Don’t get too vocal with yourself, no one wants to hear all that.”

Cassian rolled his eyes as he climbed inside, shutting the tent flaps behind him. He used a match to light his lantern, and his pipe, as he laid back against his blankets, atop the grass.

He pulled open the yellow envelope, once more, removing the letter and setting it aside as he reached for the other contents. He pulled out a long, silver chain, an oval locket attached to the bottom. When he opened it up, all the tension was released from his body.

On one side was Nesta, and on the other, was Marigold. Cassian chuckled at the photograph of the horse before brushing his thumb over the one of Nesta. She sat, poised, her chin lifted high. Even in black and white, he could see the intensity of her gray-blue eyes.

He closed it shut and clasped the chain around his neck, tucking the locket beneath his shirt.

There was another photograph inside of the envelope. Azriel’s guess had not been wrong. Cassian took it into his hands and brought it closer to the lantern, his heart beating wildly. Her hair hung loose around her pale shoulders, reaching just below her breasts, which Cassian admired as he brought his pipe to his lips. Her legs were open, waiting for him, and he suddenly had the realization that someone must have taken such a photo, and wondered how Nesta had swung it without anyone seeing.

He laughed, under his breath, at the thought of Nesta ordering someone around to take a nude photo, only to have it instantly taken away and put in an envelope to ship to him overseas. He turned it over and on the back, it read, I know what you are thinking. Do not worry, Helion helped me with such a project and kept all details to himself. Cassian snorted - knew what he would be thinking, indeed. Then, below, it read, For when you are lonely. At night, this is how I wait for you to return. Hurry back.

Cassian flipped the photograph back over and ran his fingers down the image. She was so beautiful, especially when she was natural, bare. Nothing but the locket in which she sent along, the locket that was now around his neck, covered her skin. The silver oval laid between her breasts.

He studied her until he could no longer bear to keep still.

After unzipping his trousers, he wrapped his fist around his cock and began to stroke himself. His head fell back and his eyes fell shut, but the image of Nesta, his Nesta, remained.

~~~~~

Rhysand was eating a bowl of some kind of slop the next morning when Cassian emerged from his tent and stretched.

“Have a nice date with your hand last night?” Rhysand asked, filling his mouth.

“Fuck off,” Cassian said, shaking his head but unable to stop his grin. “Where’s Az?”

“Bringing our letters to the post. They’re going out this afternoon.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for one of the bowls Rhysand had brought. “Okay, I grew up poor, but even this shit looks disgusting to me...and my standards are fairly low.”

“At least it keeps us from starving to death,” Rhysand said. “Hopefully.”

Cassian was just about to reply as a bell sounded from the middle of camp. Rhysand quickly met his gaze, his jaw set, as soldiers all around them got to their feet.

Azriel was running toward them, eyes wild. “They’re coming, less than a mile away. We have to go.”

Rhysand swore, dropping his bowl to the ground as Cassian reached for their guns. A moment later, helmets were atop their heads and rifles were tossed across their backs and they were running across the landscape. Once in formation, they marched as one through the valley and halted. Beyond was the battlefield they had already seen, the battlefield in which so many had died around them. Rhysand looked to Cassian on his left. His friend was focused, his breathing even. He had a good shot, if he ever had nerves, he did not show it. Then Rhysand looked to Azriel on his right, who was closing his eyes. Azriel was fast, could dodge anything. Rhysand was not worried about either of them. He would not allow himself to be. They would stick together. They would make it out.

“Stay together,” Rhysand whispered.

The other two repeated, in the same quiet calm, “Stay together.”

~~~~~

“Feyre?” Nesta called, knocking on her sister’s door. “A letter just arrived from Elain. She will be here next week, she says.”

The door was opened a moment later.

Nesta froze.

Feyre’s eyes were red and puffy. “Sorry, I just….” her words trailed off and Nesta pulled her sister into her arms.

“Has something happened?” she asked. “Is Rhysand okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Yes, it’s nothing like that, I just….Nesta, I’m pregnant.”

Nesta blinked. “Pregnant?”

Feyre laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Yes.”

Nesta smiled, wrapping her arms around Feyre even tighter. “That’s great news. Why are you crying?”

Feyre allowed Nesta into her room before she closed the door. They both sat by the fireplace, on the floor.

“I knew when I last wrote Rhys,” she explained. “But, I did not tell him. Now I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Nesta asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

Feyre nibbled on her bottom lip. “Is it truly better to tell him?”

Nesta’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...would telling him make him happier or just more upset that he is not here?” she asked. “He says he misses me, that all he thinks about is coming home, and if I tell him that I am with child, it would just be more of a burden. I thought perhaps I should wait, until he returns.”

Nesta nodded. “Well, I think you should let him know. He would want to know, considering he tried so hard to impregnate you to begin with.”

Feyre laughed, pushing her sister in the arm. “Perhaps. I do not know the right answer to anything these days.”

Nesta stared at her hands when she said. “Would you like to know something that will cheer you up? Perhaps make you laugh?”

Feyre raised a brow. “You are going to tell me something that will make me laugh? That seems unlikely.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “In the last letters we sent, I put a photograph of myself inside.”

Feyre blinked. “Why would that make me laugh?”

Nesta could not control her smile as she said, “Because I was not wearing any clothing.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open before she broke into a fit of laughter. “You? Nesta? You sent Cassian a nude photograph?”

Nesta nodded, her own laughter sputtering out. “Yes. I wonder if he has received it, yet.”

Feyre put her hands over her mouth. “I cannot believe you did such a thing! How was it? Was it awkward?”

Nesta shook her head. “No, Helion took it when he was here last week, in my room. It was actually quite invigorating. I have never felt so….I don’t know. Powerful.”

Feyre’s laughter died down as she watched the flames. “How very risque of you.”

“Indeed,” Nesta agreed, then looked at her sister. “I am happy for you.” She nodded toward her sister’s abdomen. “Truly.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, patting her sister’s knee. “And I am so very proud of you.”

Nesta looked over at her sister and they both broke into laughter, once more.

They were not certain of much lately, but they were certain that when their worlds were full of the unknown, laughter was the best medication.

~~~~~

Cassian had never seen so much blood.

The explosion happened quickly, no one had seen it coming. At the time, Cassian had his rifle pointed at one of the enemy, and the moment he pulled the trigger, as if on que, the ground exploded.

He was knocked on the ground, into the dirt, his ears ringing as he looked around for his brothers.

Rhysand was on the ground a few yards away, but he was already pulling himself up, rifle in hand.

To his other side, men lay scattered, motionless.

He called out for Azriel, and when he looked back to Rhysand, his violet eyes were wide and panicked.

“There!” he shouted, but Cassian could hardly hear him. He turned himself around, pulling himself fully off the ground, as he followed Rhysand’s gaze.

Azriel lay still, his gun a few feet beside him, his helmet having flown from his head. He was covered in blood, how much was actually his, Cassian was not certain.

They were all covered in blood.

Their fellow man’s.

Their enemies.

Cassian and Rhysand ran to his side, sinking down in the dirt alongside him. Rhysand instantly had his back to them both, his gun raised, protecting them.

Cassian pressed his ear to Azriel’s chest. “He’s still breathing.”

Rhysand gave a curt nod, the only sign he had heard as he pulled the trigger, firing upon any threat coming toward them.

Cassian found the gaping wound coming from his side and tore open his shirt, where blood was flowing. “Fuck,” Cassian breathed, pressing his hands down on the wound to stop the flow. “Fuck! Rhys….Rhys, we have to get him out of here. We have to get him to medical.”

“Can you carry him?” Rhysand called, still holding up his gun, not looking behind him.

Cassian panicked. He was losing blood. So much blood.

He tossed his gun up to Rhysand, who took it and put it around his shoulder without taking his concentration from his own. Cassian quickly pulled off his shirt and tore it into long strips, his helmet discarded. He bundled up a few of the strips and pressed them into the wound, then tied a few together to make it long enough to wrap around Azriel’s abdomen a few times. Once he tied it tight, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Rhysand called. “Let me know when to walk, I’ve got you both.”

The blood was still pouring from the wound, although not as bad.

With a grunt, Cassian lifted Azriel off the ground, carrying him over his shoulder. “Fuck, you heavy bastard,” he groaned, getting himself into a steady position. “Alright, Rhys, I’m moving!”

Then they both were moving, Azriel unconscious, but his heart still beating within his chest, against Cassian’s back. He was heavy, and nearly Cassian’s height, but Cassian did not let himself think of it as he hurried through the gunfire and around those that were already dead.

“Do not die on me,” Cassian grunted, Azriel’s weight starting to slow him down, “Do not fucking die on me. Elain would kill me if I let you die. Do not die, you hear me? You’re going to be a dad, do not fucking die on your kid!” Cassian yelled, eyes still ahead, blurred with tears but determined. “Do not fucking die on me!”

Rhysand’s gun fired from behind them.

“We’re almost to the clear!” Cassian called.

“I don’t see many more from Hybern!” Rhysand called back.

Cassian could feel the warmth of Azriel’s blood sinking through the shreds of his shirt, onto his own skin, down his arm.

He suddenly became lighter a moment later, once they neared the end of the valley. Rhysand, with both rifles slung across his chest, said, “I’ll take his legs, you take his arms.”

Cassian nodded, putting Azriel down as gently as he could among the grass. He put his fingers against Azriel’s neck and swore before putting his forearms underneath Azriel’s underarms.

Rhysand took him beneath the knees and they lifted him from the ground, and they hurried, as fast as they could, across the remaining distance.

When they reached the camp, the medical tent was the first to appear.

They brought Azriel inside and a nurse yelled for a table to be cleared. Rhysand and Cassian put him down, then both stepped back to let the nurses swarm him.

“He’s going to be okay, yeah?” Rhysand asked, face paled. “He’s still breathing? He’s going to be okay?”

No one answered him, which only made Cassian ask, louder, “Just tell us he’ll fucking make it!”

A nurse pressed her hands against the newly unraveled wound as she said, calmly, “Yes, he’s still breathing.”

“That doesn’t answer my fucking question,” Cassian spat.

Rhysand met him at his side and started to pull Cassian back. “Let them work.”

Rhysand’s hands were surprisingly calm as Cassian turned to him, Rhys’ face covered in the blood of others and dirt, his hair drenched in sweat and wild.

“He can’t die, Rhys,” Cassian breathed.

“I know,” Rhysand said, taking Cassian’s face in his hands. “I know, alright? So we have to let the nurses work. Yeah? We have to let the nurses work, Cass.”

Cassian nodded, and Rhysand did not let go of Cassian’s face until his breathing began to even.

A soldier poked his head into the tent a moment later and said, “Hybern retreated. It is done for the day.”

The nurses gave a sign of understanding and the soldier went away. Cassian had not even heard them coming back, had not even heard the shouts of victory from the outside.

“You two may stay, if you wish, but you have to sit to the side,” a nurse said, the one with her hands against Azriel’s wound.

Cassian nodded as he and Rhysand went to the side of the tent and slumped to the ground.

Neither of them spoke as they waited.

~~~~~

Hours passed, the day had gone and turned into night, and he did not open his eyes. The nurses had sterilized the wound the best they could and sewed his skin shut. He had lost a lot of blood.

Rhysand looked at Cassian every once in a while, but neither of them said a word, neither of them dared. Cassian still sat with his chest bare, covered in filth, dried blood matting his hair to his forehead. Rhysand assumed he did not look much better.

The minutes were passing too slowly, it was agonizing. Rhysand had killed more than he thought he would have to since arriving at Hybern. The thought was unnerving, but he tried not to dwell on it. He was protecting himself, protecting Azriel and Cassian.

“If he dies, how would I ever go back?” Cassian whispered. Face glowing in the lanterns that surrounded them. “How could I stand there, in front of Elain, and Feyre, and Nesta, and tell them that Azriel died?”

Rhysand cleared his throat, his gaze falling to his hands where he began picking off the dried, crimson coat. “I don’t know.”

Cassian nodded, eyes empty. “They have a baby on the way, Rhys.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand breathed, not bothering to wipe away the tear that fell down his tanned cheek.

Cassian shook his head, but said no more.

When the silence became unbearable, Rhysand stood and walked to Azriel’s side. His chest was still rising and falling, his wound closed. Rhysand reached up to feel his forehead. He did not feel feverish.

“Before we left,” Rhysand began, quietly, “me and Feyre tried, for a baby. Seeing you here now…” his words trailed off and he shook his head. “Elain needs you. That baby needs you. Fight for them, yeah?” he used his torn shirtsleeve to wipe at his eyes, his nose. “If you can hear me, you have to fight for them. Because if it were me in your place, and Feyre was pregnant, that woman would cut off my fucking balls.”

Cassian stood and joined them at Azriel’s other side. Rhysand knew Cassian was thinking of their conversation on the ship. I wanted to give her a baby, to look at, to love, to remind her of me, if I don’t make it back.

Azriel’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids, and both Rhysand and Cassian froze.

“Az?” Rhysand whispered.

Azriel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stirred, then groaned, softly.

Cassian and Rhysand said nothing as they watched, as they waited.

Rhysand thought he would collapse once Azriel’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “Rhys. Cass….”

Rhsyand nodded toward Cassian where Azriel’s eyes slowly trailed to. Cassian stood completely still, as if he were afraid to breathe.

Azriel let out a breath as his eyes closed, once more.

But his hands found theirs. One in Rhysand’s, the other in Cassian’s.

“My side…” Azriel began, as if each word brought him pain, “fucking hurts.”

Cassian, unable to control himself, began to laugh, and when he couldn’t stop, Rhysand started to laugh, too.

Azriel’s hands tightened around theirs, smiling faintly, eyes still closed.

That battlefield had been littered with the dead, husbands and sons and fathers who would be no more.

But Azriel would not be one of them.

They promised to stay together.

They would stay together.

At least, for now.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm @santas-dwynwen @starryandbooks @candid-confetti

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #period au #nessian #feysand #elriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction

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clansayeed · 4 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 5: The Long Story

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Oblivionverse tag list!

⥼ Summary ⥽

Freed from the Order's clutches, reuniting with Kamilah after all this time isn't at all like Nadya had imagined it would be. But they all have some catching up to do... And what Kamilah has to say will change everything.

content warnings: language, canon-typical violence, blood

[READ IT ON AO3]

Did anyone else know Kamilah had an entire building as offices set up in pretty much every major city, or was she supposed to just… like… find this out on her own?

Walking through the doorway into a near-exact replica of the woman’s New York penthouse should feel like a relief. Between the practically-identical furniture and layout to the fact that Nadya’s pretty sure she hasn’t let go of some part of Kamilah since they had managed to get that awful cage open; she’d even go so far as to say it should feel like home.

But it doesn’t.

And even though she over-thinks every possible reason until her head hurts, Nadya just can’t figure out why.

“You’re sure they’re okay?” She asks again; not because something might have changed in the five minutes since she last pressed about how Brandon and Greer had gotten out of the Order’s raid alive, but because the repetition helps make it feel a little more real.

Only Jax has clearly reached his limit on the matter. “For the last time, yes. A few cuts and bruises but surprisingly they held their own. I keep telling you I got them out myself but since you refuse to believe me…”

“No no,” hastily, swallowing around her dry mouth, “I do. I just…”

“Blame yourself?”

And it’s clear from even the tiniest glance that’s not a weight she’s carrying alone. Not saying that makes it easier, but…

A familiar touch brushes through her hair and Nadya leans into it on instinct. Kamilah’s fingertips tickle the spot underneath her ear and the tension just sort of… oozes out of her shoulders. “I’ve arranged for their recovery in a safe place. One that cannot be connected to any of us, and free of our kind entirely.”

There’s a knowing glint in her eye when Nadya finally looks up. Thank god, if she could cry any more she just might, that means Gerard made it out okay.

They haven’t even sat down and already Adrian is ducking out onto the balcony, new burner phone already pressed to his ear and a familiar worry etched into his frown.

“I guess Serafine was friends with the owner of the club where you were…” Cadence doesn’t say the words ‘attacked,’ ‘kidnapped,’ or any variation thereof for which Nadya is immensely grateful. “So when we had a solid lead on where you two had been taken, Adrian all but insisted she stay behind and help see to the injured.”

She’s almost hesitant to ask. “How did you find us, anyway?”

After all, the ride back to central London had been long. Well… long for a starving vampire and an exhausted human anyway. The Order had gotten them at least an hour out before the rescue team had swooped in and saved the night.

Her question is met with a long pause. Any other time Nadya might have guessed he was just gearing up for one of his long-winded explanations of this tracking method or that mysterious contact in the shadows. Not this time though.

Not when he pauses mid-step and knocks his shin into the dark-stained wooden corner of the coffee table.

She tries to meet his eyes but something off near the kitchen is far more important. Nadya glances over her shoulder to the sight of Kamilah in the doorway, frozen like a statue with an expression just as stony.

She catches the faintest shake of the woman’s head right before Cadence plasters on a smile a little too wide to be sincere.

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re safe, so best not to dwell.”

“Bullshit.” mutters Lily beside her, and Nadya reaches up to pet her head on her shoulder in solidarity.

There are definitely more questions to ask.

Questions like where the hell did Kamilah come from?

Or weren’t Cade and Serafine supposed to be leading their hunters on a false trail towards literally anywhere else?

And, possibly the most dire of them all, how close are those same hunters now that we’re all in a pretty conspicuous not-so-safe house?

All of them good questions, objectively. But they will have to wait.

Kamilah returns from the kitchen bearing a sterling silver serving tray. Steam and the familiar scent of Gerard’s favorite herbal tea tickles at the tip of her nose; she’s grabbing for it before the tray even meets the table.

Beside the cup and saucer is a blood bag, and not for the first time does Nadya find herself wondering why they didn’t think to hide out here sooner.

You’d think with the scabbing skin still slightly smoky around her wrists and the clear bags under her eyes that Lily would dive into the offered meal like it’s Taco Tuesday… which is something Nadya will now never be able to unsee, which is awesome. She doesn’t though.

Doesn’t even reach for it. Just stares at the thick plastic and how it catches the light overhead silent and transfixed.

And Lily’s not the only one.

Across from them Kamilah sits, rigid and alert. Jax grasps the back of an armchair with white knuckles and a set jaw. Even Cadence bites at his thumb nail with nerves he’s probably not even conscious of.

Nadya sets her teacup down to quell the sudden tremor in her grip.

It’s obvious from the sweat on her upper lip and the slits that were her pupils that Lily needs this.

What she doesn’t need is the pressure.

“Am I supposed to be waiting for Raines to nab a seat for the show?” She bites out, fangs clenched together. She’s making a conscious effort to keep her lips over her top row of teeth which muddles her words a bit.

Unfortunately nobody seems to get the hint to back off but Cadence, who silently decides to go join Adrian instead… with the balcony door closed firmly behind him.

Kamilah and Jax exchange a long look. No words; just quirked eyebrows and Kamilah’s inclined head.

Jax takes his cue and comes around to sit, elbows on his knees and every inch of the ‘stern parental figure’ look resolute on his weary face.

“It was life or death — for all of us. No plan, no escape; I want you to know I think you did the right thing, no matter what. It was kill or be killed.”

Familiar words for them all. They make Nadya’s hand clench into a fist on her lap. She shoves it between her legs at the knees.

This isn’t about her right now.

Lily raises her chin defensively. “You got a point there, Jax?”

Oooh this is bad. Very very baaaad.

“I saw something during the fight.” He laces his fingers together between his spread legs. “And it might’ve just been the chaos, the adrenaline… But if there’s even a chance it wasn’t…”

“Lemme clear that up for you.”

Lily snatches the bag faster than Nadya can blink. Faster than Kamilah and Jax seem to have expected, too; judging by their startled looks.

Faster than a vampire her age and in her condition should be moving, in summary.

She holds nothing back. Brighter eyes a little too much on the edge of carnal looking at the promise of sustenance with glee right before she sinks both sets of fangs in deep. It pops and ruins all future mental images of water balloons for Nadya in the process. But even through her messy eating Lily doesn’t spill a single drop.

Jax leans back and sighs with something like relief, but everything else on his face says the complete opposite. “It was just a flash,” he mumbles as if to himself, “and with everything going on I swore it was a trick of the lights. But then they took you and…”

“The Order is not in the habit of leaving survivors,” Kamilah explains for him; and she would know, “let alone taking captives.”

Lily drops the bag into her lap when she finishes — when there’s literally nothing left inside. Like… not even the weird little blood bubbles left. She looks like she wants to rip it open like a bag of hot cheetos and lick the insides just in case.

On the plus side, her wounds are already starting to heal. New skin fresh and practically glowing.

And thankfully not tinged that Feral-like grey.

“Well they’re good at it, habit or not. Their tech is so high it makes high tech look like dial-up.” She rubs at her wrists; the ghost of the memory dark in her now-human eyes. “And it sucked butts and all but…” how is there a ‘but’ to this of all things?I

“But even I’m not gonna say it wasn’t probably the only thing that kept us alive in the end. So. That’s all I’ll give them — only because we didn’t, you know, get shipped off to some vampire-Guantanamo Bay.”

A heavy silence hangs over them then. Nadya can’t even imagine what the club must look like now — what it must have looked like when Adrian and Jax had finished their share of the fight only to look up, look around, and see no sign of either of them. All the ash, all the bodies… and one of them, Nadya remembers with much displeasure, that she was even responsible for.

Kamilah doesn’t let the moment doesn’t last long though. Good, she really doesn’t need that flashback right now.

“Now that we’ve come to the inevitable source of tension,” she hesitates; rocks pretty much everyone else’s world because no one would ever look at Kamilah Sayeed and consider she was even capable of feeling uncomfortable like she is right now, “perhaps now is the time for explanations of your own.”

And she looks to Lily as she says it but that’s not where she ought to be focusing that judging eye of hers. So Nadya bites the bullet and waves her hand slightly — the shaking helps it look a little more sincere. “Actually, Kamilah, if you’re looking for someone to blame that… that would be me.”

Neither Lily or Jax come to her defense. That tells Kamilah all she needs to know about whether Nadya’s serious or simply blaming herself as per usual. She shifts on her cushion; crosses one leg over the other at the knee and keeps her spine almost uncomfortably straight.

Not that any of her proper etiquette could even begin to prepare her for this. She forces the slight furrow from her brow before she speaks again.

“Very well Nadya. As succinctly as possible, if you would.”

But there’s really no succinct way to go about describing what went down in the King’s Manor. From trying to keep Adrian’s privacy by glossing over his meltdown that led the crypt-Ferals to find and surround them all to how badly Nadya had gotten injured during their escape; to everything still kinda fuzzy but no less terrifying about their confrontation with the Duchess in the cathedral and… and what all that had meant…

Kamilah holds up a calm hand to interrupt her. Nadya closes her mouth so fast her teeth click on the still-swollen part of her cut lower lip. She winces but toughs it out.

“You’re sure you weren’t caught between the reality of the moment and a memory? You actually spoke to a…” But she can’t say it. Even Kamilah’s surprised she can’t say it. Sure it breaks all the rules they’ve known for centuries and implies terrible horrible tragic things — lives that could have been saved and fates that could have been changed — but that’s just another Tuesday for them.

So she just nods once. After a glance to Jax and Lily and their unnerving solemnity… still, Kamilah struggles to wrap her mind around the concept.

“I see. Please… continue.”

The color drains from Nadya’s face when she realizes what comes next. Thankfully Kamilah takes it as her usual anxiety; there’s an empathy lurking in the cool depths of her eyes that says I understand, you’ve been through so much, and I wasn’t there to protect you that Nadya feels more than understands. But that’s more than enough… or it would be if that were the thing she didn’t want to talk about.

Jax clears his throat and comes to her rescue. “We figured it was a long shot. But if whatever makes her blood special was strong enough to undo centuries of insanity on a fully-fledged Feral, then maybe it was strong enough to stop Lily from getting to that point at all.”

We. He means Cynbel of course.

But Kamilah looks rattled enough. The last thing they need is her going outside for a breather and pushing Cadence over the balcony railing.

So with Jax’s help they manage to piece together a sound-enough truth for the vampiress that she doesn’t feel the gaping holes in their memories. One that gives importance to the things that matter, like Lily and her shiny new fangs and the importance of their discovery.

And one that omits things like Nadya accidentally did the thing you were afraid of from the moment you met the man, the thing you wouldn’t tell anyone about; the reason the Trinity is tangled up in all this and puts us last in terms of millennia-old vampires on our side.

At the end of it all nobody knows what to expect, least of all Nadya. She has fifteen different kinds of apologies on the tip of her tongue and runs the risk of all of them spilling out at once.

Kamilah doesn’t let her get nearly that deep in, though.

She turns bodily back to Lily with indescribably scrutiny. “And how do you feel, then?”

“Do I feel like a monster, you mean?”

“No,” she continues clipped; terse, “if I had even an inkling to that being the case you would not be here as you are. But think back to your… first Turning.”

It settles around them thickly in the air that there’s a very good chance nobody in the history of vampire-kind has ever said that and meant it the way Kamilah does now. The importance of it gives her the responsibility to continue. “How does it feel this time; knowing what you are, what has made you this way? My concern here, Lily, is the threat you may unknowingly pose to yourself more than any threat you may be to others. The latter can be dealt with easily.

“But if you feel different? If your soul feels… different, then we must act now in the early days. While we still can.”

Act now. What a kind way to imply such a terrible deed.

Lily throws a sideways glance at Nadya before she speaks. After all they’d already had this talk, right? “I do feel different,” and she cuts Jax off before he can even open his mouth with a finger held up and a shake of her head, “no, I have the right to finish. Because I do feel different. I am different. But I don’t feel any less like myself Kamilah, and I know that’s what you mean.”

“The answer need not be so plainly given. In fact I think we would all prefer if you took time to be absolutely certain.”

“It’s my soul and my body. I think I’m pretty fucking certain.” There’s a harder edge to her voice now. Anger bubbling beneath the surface but not in a way that bares teeth or fangs. Just real and pure anger — the kind without an outlet. “I may not have had a choice in anything that’s happened to me so far but I do now. So either you take my answer here and now or you never really planned on believing me anyway.”

It’s a bold accusation. Makes Kamilah blink, lips pursed… before she gives Lily a short and curt nod.

“Very well. The only one fully able to doubt you is yourself. Especially given your… circumstances.”

Lily clicks her tongue in a “tch,” at the word but that’s all. No, really, that’s all. Everyone’s content to drop it there not just because they have nothing more to say but because they don’t want to add to it.

Things are tense enough as it is.

A tension which breaks when the balcony door slides open and the four of them watch Adrian and Cadence return with a hesitant melancholy. Kamilah quirks an inquiring look at Adrian; he runs his palm down his face with a heavy-hearted sigh.

“She wants to stay and help as much as she can,” he answers her unasked question about Serafine and her whereabouts, “and just asked me to call if we had a solid lead on what to do next. She’s pushing herself a little too hard, but I get where she’s coming from. Even if I wish she’d take it easy.”

Kamilah’s brow furrows. “The final confrontation with Antony left her with more than a simple injury. But alas, I can’t say I’m surprised at her tenacity.”

Antony. Just the man’s name brings all the events in Paris flooding back to the front of Nadya’s mind. The Order was a looming threat — probably now more than ever too — but the immediate one was like… two thousand times worse.

Four thousand if they’re counting Isseya alongside.

“So you’ve caught them up then,” asks Cadence, “on… everything?”

He gives a particular look Nadya’s way that she’s very much not a fan of. It gives her a gut feeling she’d thought—hoped, fleetingly—that they had left behind when they fled Paris. The one where everyone around her knows something about her that she doesn’t know — something they’re trying to spare her from.

Her stomach gurgles in agreement as all the knots start to collide with each other. She slides a hand over her middle and looks away from him before it gets any worse.

Kamilah face twitches in the barest flicker of irritation; schooling her expression with practiced ease but that’s just another mask. Just another cover-up. “I had not yet found the opportunity… Cadence.” She says his name in the same clipped and terse way Serafine does. Like her tongue is trained to know better. Her brain not falling for a trick played on her eyes. But that’s not the case anymore.

“I’m hoping it has something to do with why Isseya led us to believe Gaius had executed you.”

There’s an unfinished argument in the way Adrian looks at his mentor and friend. Kamilah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. “Indeed. I promised you answers when the time was right.”

“When we got Nadya and Lily back.”

“Yes—that needed to remain paramount to anything you may feel compelled to do in the near future.” When I tell you what I know, that’s what she doesn’t say. And she’s definitely got their attention now. All of them watching, waiting; silent and with Nadya on bated breath.

“It was an unnecessary evil; one I would not have gone through with had I any other choice. But we knew the fight was lost — that we had been betrayed by some of our last contacts in the Northeast. Between Miss Espinoza and myself —”

“Why isn’t she with you?”

Lily interrupts unabashedly. Judging by the look bordering on sympathy Kamilah gives her (disturbing in and of itself but about this… well there’s a brand new knot that joins the rest) she was expecting this to happen.

“Because she knew one of us needed to stay behind, much like before when it was you who we sent on ahead.”

“Why does that feel like a cop out excuse?”

“Because it doesn’t nearly begin to paint the picture of the truth.”

“You’re one of the handful of oldest bones roaming the earth Kamilah,” Lily snaps, though she catches herself — her anger — and does her best to reel it in before they have to revisit their earlier talk too darn soon, “excuse me for not believing that out of the pair of you she was the one could do more good if she stayed behind.”

There’s a war across Jax’s expression, half a thought forming on his lips before Kamilah raises a soft hand to stay him.

“No, she’s right. And that continues to weigh heavy on my conscience. But if you would let me continue then perhaps you may find comfort in the nobility in her actions rather than the cowardice in mine.”

Lily mulls it over with grinding teeth. She does eventually relent; sagging against her seat with her arms over her chest. That blue cuff Nadya bought her on their first night in Paris caught between thumb and forefinger like a totem that doesn’t quite bring the peace it should.

“As long as you’re aware of your being a coward.”

“Kamilah’s many things — but a coward…” Adrian looks to her like she’ll pick up defending herself where he leaves off. She doesn’t. So he falls quiet as well, falls in line just like the rest of them. They’ve done enough interrupting.

Anyone else, asks Kamilah silent and with nothing but a single raised eyebrow. No one dares, not now.

“It was not an ideal decision, nor was it the smartest. But we were forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Either we could act impulsive and with little thought and hope it would be enough to skirt by, or we could stand and do nothing, be nothing, and watch every effort to fight back be reduced to nothing before our very eyes.

“I said already that we had no allies left. That is only partially true. None that we could fully trust… but in dire circumstances one does what they must to keep their eye not on the battle, but on the war.” She takes a moment for herself; a long silence before she manages to look Adrian in the eye with the weight of her remorse. “I convinced Marcel to grant me access to the secret tunnels beneath his castle upstate.”

“That’s where Gaius is holding his Court, isn’t it?” Nadya asks; and earns herself a genuinely surprised look from Kamilah.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It’s a long story…” Please don’t make me tell it now.

And she’s grateful that Kamilah doesn’t. Because she gets it. “It seems most of them are these days…” But back to this one for now.

“I hope he will find it in his heart one day to forgive me. We’ve known one another for many centuries, Marcel and I. But needs must.”

Adrian rubs his mouth slowly, like he can feel her guilt in his bones. “At least tell me it was worth it.”

She nods; the entire room sighs in relief.

“Gaius holds his Court in much the same way he used to. The same pomp and fanfare but with different faces in the same roles. Priya sits at his side as some self-appointed princess,” and Kamilah is well within her rights to sneer the word like she does, “while Cecil’s men act as some adjunct guard service. Marcel is there, as was to be expected. And rarely is Valdemaras allowed to stray from his sight.”

Cadence shifts uncomfortably at the name. “The few times I got Isseya to open up, she made it sound like he was being held hostage. Insurance, almost.”

“If there’s one thing Gaius excels at it is finding the weaknesses of others and exploiting them to his own ends. I won’t say the Trinity are without fault; they haven’t exactly made it difficult to determine what they care about the most…”

And in a startling turn of events she actually does the exact opposite of what Nadya would expect of the Kamilah they had left behind. She’d fully anticipated the woman turning away both literally and symbolically; angling her own weaknesses away from Nadya where they’re the most vulnerable.

Instead she and Nadya lock eyes across the table. Pain, frustration, relief deep enough in honey-flecked irises and pupils dark and deep enough for her to drown in. Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, would it?

“But in this case their cooperation is just as damning as their complacency.” The moment passes. Nadya watches her walls go back up from the outside.

“I’m all for a bit of recon,” cracking his knuckles for something to ease his nerves, Jax leans in before she can resume, “but get to the point Kamilah. What the hell does Gaius want with Nadya?”

She doesn’t immediately answer. Adrian, though, looks at the younger vampire like he’s grown a second head. “What would possibly make you think it has anything to do with Nadya?”

What makes you think it doesn’t?

“What about this points to literally anything else, Raines?” Jax answers with a question of his own. One of the few rare times he and Nadya seem to be on the same page about all this.

Before he can make things worse Adrian bites his tongue. That he doesn’t have an answer is written in the worry lines on his fact.

“The guy sent two millennias-old vampires to hunt her down. Her, not you or Sayeed or anyone in this room who could actually pose a threat to him.” There’s a second where he almost looks like he might give Nadya the no offense card but she just avoids eye contact instead.

He’s fine with that. “I’ve had coincidences enough in the last few months for several lifetimes over. This, Kamilah suddenly showing up in the middle of it, isn’t one of them.

“Is it, Sayeed?”

“No, Jax, it’s not.” Though she might have put it in kinder terms; tried to spare certain mortals in the room.

“Then get to the damn point.”

Before things hit a boiling point Nadya coughs into her fist; fake and loud and with more voice than necessary but it works so that’s all that matters. “I can handle it Kamilah,” like she’s got any idea if that’s what holds the woman back; she doesn’t — but this is bigger than her, “I bet it doesn’t even make it in my top 3 of weird since we left.”

She tries to break a smile and ends up with a weak and strained grimace instead.

“Very well. Nadya, Gaius wants you returned to him, at his Court and in front of his subjects, alive and human.”

“I kn—”

“Because he plans to kill you. He plans to Turn you himself.”

Paris, Several Nights Ago…

“All the risks I have taken for you and you still return here?”

She keeps her voice to a low hiss in his ear; a viper full of venom in her fangs despite how she seems very intent on crushing him like some type of constrictor.

Not that she needs to whisper. Doubtful that their accomplices on either side of the fight can hear or see much beyond their frenzied duel somewhere around the alley corner. Steel scrapes against steel and rings out like church bells. Followed by the now-familiar battle cry of Serafine as she rushes in for the kill.

A kill she always tries for — yet always seems to fall short of the mark.

But even with Antony out of immediate sight Isseya doesn’t pull her punches when she sends Cadence flying back into the nearest building wall. His neck cracks uncomfortably, the brick behind him split in several places and just barely indented with his large and sprawling frame. But he shakes it off like he has all of her other attacks. He really has no choice but to do anything else.

He tries to look apologetic as he brushes red dust from the shoulders of his jacket. “It’s just the way things worked out, Isseya.”

“Don’t say my name.”

“I —” He can never tell with her. In Prague she was benevolent. In Rome she speared a rather heavy branch just a couple inches from his heart. In Venice she had him pinned against the wall, could very well have snapped his neck into unconsciousness or the unthinkable worse, but had pressed her lips hard-near-bruising to his temple before vanishing into the night instead.

Why is it they always end up grappling with one another, leaving Serafine and Antony to continue their seemingly endless duel? It makes sense in Cadence’s head that they’d get better results if they switched dance partners.

Another scraaape of swords comes from one alley over. If he’s going to try and convince her now is about the last chance he has left.

“You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Says a man who has nothing to lose.”

“I think we both know that’s not the case.”

Isseya grits her fangs. Suddenly she can’t look him in the eyes. “If you wish to waste the windows of opportunity I give you, Cadence, then there’s nothing more I can do.”

He watches and waits; sees her momentary distraction for the advantage as it is and strikes. He pins Isseya to the other side of the narrow alley, forearm pushed tight against her throat. A move meant to hold her still more than anything else; one of those moments Serafine calls him foolish for.

The ones where he tries to reason with a woman who has none left to give.

“You could have killed Antony a dozen times over by now,” he growls, “but you cling to the lie that Gaius’ way is the only way. Why, Isseya? Why won’t you… Why won’t you let me help you?”

His voice cracks at the end. They both notice, thankfully they can both ignore it too — what with the seconds they have left alone ticking down faster and faster.

There it is — just a flicker, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The smallest chip in her composure; proof that every effort in every city, every bruise and broken bone and every pleaded attempt he’s mustered hasn’t been for nothing… not quite yet.

“Because I cannot lose another,” her voice a whisper on his skin, “I would not survive it. I can still save him even if… even if…”

Even if you are lost to me forever.

Isseya shoves him back.

Cadence lets her, god help him if you ask him why.

“Antony’s a smart man,” she says instead; it takes the other a moment to realize she’s continuing a conversation they had started more than a week ago. In an alley much like this on the far side of Berlin, “he figured out a long time ago that you two are nothing but distractions meant to divert our course. No doubt he is all but convinced I had something to do with your first escape… but without proof he won’t risk my beloved’s wrath.

“Not with something as valuable as the Bloodkeeper —”

“Nadya.”

“What?”

Cadence huffs through clenched teeth. “Her name is Nadya. She’s a person, not a thing. So stop saying that word like it keeps her from being a living, breathing human being.”

Whatever he had expected her to do, it couldn’t have been close to the laugh his words elicit. Nor how Isseya looks at him with her chin raised and a newfound challenge in her eyes.

“I love it when you do that.”

She steps forward. Cadence steps back. The brick molds perfectly against him like a shadow.

“Do what, exactly?”

“That,” with a flippant gesture, “that thing where you’re so unlike him without even trying. It makes it easier to keep up the chase.” Just like it will make it easier to end things the same way.

Over their heads a shadow eclipses the moon. The pair look up to see the rapidly-moving forms of their companions, still locked in an argument all their own that will soon inevitably catch the attentions of one or more late-night Parisians.

“If Antony knows the others are long gone then why do you continue tracking us?” He snaps in her face to draw Isseya’s attention. There’s a sickening feeling Cadence can’t place — like this will be the last time he’ll be able to get anything out of her until the tides turn. “Why not continue your mission?”

He takes advantage of the proximity between them and searches her eyes earnest and open. He even dares — risks it all, really — and lets his fingertips ghost the inside of her wrist where it hesitates just shy of holding him hostage.

The moment passes between them like a live wire. Not for the first time, and if the universe intends on royally screwing all of them over before this is done then Cadence is certain it won’t be the last. But her sympathy, like her sanity, isn’t Isseya’s to control. It’s not even at her whim.

Serafine’s cutlass flies through the air and clatters loudly to the pavement beside them.

Too late — the moment is shattered.

Isseya flinches back. Yanks her arm away from him like his touch is a burning brand. Before she can say anything else there’s a cry from above. Serafine’s body follows the path of her sword almost perfectly; a swan dive without the water to break her fall and when she collides with the earth it’s to the tune of her breaking bones.

Time’s up.

Cadence’s jeans scrape and wear at the knees as he skids to Serafine’s side and aid.

He gently turns her over, checking for anything worse than the odd angle of her shoulder socket and the deep cut struggling to stitch itself closed along the curve of her jaw. She groans softly in weak protest.

“Ever think about ditching the sword for something a little more permanent?” He mumbles, half to himself and half as a laugh. It’s something Kathy would do — he’s had that thought several times through their ordeal.

It’s actually a greater source of comfort than he can begin to describe.

Unlike Serafine, her opponent joins them from the rooftop with a stalwart kind of grace. His footfalls barely a tap-tap as he lands just shy of a crouch. Fluid movement in how he stands and makes his way to Isseya’s side. His blade — an old Roman gladius, because Cadence has learned from experience that the older they are the more they tend to lean into the cliche — catches a glinting silver on the distant street lamp. Bright all except where the metal is dotted dark red with blood.

“Good thing we aren’t keeping score, old friend.” Antony remarks. His face twitches in a sick kind of satisfaction as together their hunters watch Cadence help Serafine up, her arm slung over his shoulders to bear the burden of her while she forces her body to heal on her time, rather than its own.

“Unless you wish to count this as an extension of our Nassau campaign, of course.”

“How did the Romans ever get anything conquered if all you do is talk?” Cadence remarks; though his own injuries aren’t as severe in the moment it would be foolish of him not to acknowledge how the constant running and chasing and fighting and more running and the cycle unending has taken its toll.

Antony’s brow twitches; he’s barely given Cadence a second glance since the last time they were in this very city. Not that he’s complaining… seeing as his turn with the brutal General seems to be looming inevitably closer now.

There’s a sickening pop too close to his ears but Cadence resists the urge to flinch. Slowly Serafine steadies herself on her own two feet, grabbing her cutlass from the alley floor to grasp the handle tightly and with the same unwavering conviction.

“He’s right Antony,” and even weak as she is she manages a voice like velvet; crooning in her mockery, “you must be getting soft in your old age. I don’t remember this much chatting in Nassau.”

It would be infinitely more impressive if they seemed to have actually unnerved the man. Instead he’s somehow more impassive than ever.

Beside him, Isseya gives a short and exasperated huff of frustration. “You know you cannot keep this up for much longer, Dupont. Doubtful you’d even last the midnight flight to your next safe home.” She steps forward — tries and fails to mask the pain that comes over her as she watches Cadence throw his arm across the other woman’s front as a shield.

“Just tell us where they’ve taken the Bloodkeeper. One little location… we won’t even bring you back to Court. We will leave you to lick your wounds in the gutters as freemen.”

“Doubtful though, that it would last very long.” Muttered in muted amusement beside her; there’s a dangerous thing to be implied in Antony’s words and eyes.

All the more reason to keep this going for as long as possible.

Serafine snaps her fangs. “Why does Gaius even want her?” The same question she’s asked before; and will continue to ask until they manage to piece together an answer from the scraps they’re given.

“There are hundreds of psychics more skilled he could have.”

“You know the Bloodkeeper is no ordinary psychic.”

“Nor is she a formidable threat to someone of Gaius’ age and skill.” Serafine looks to Isseya imploringly. There’s a lot to be said for the fact that the less sane of the pair is the more reasonable one. “You’ve been in her mind, Isseya. And don’t think I didn’t see the damage your snake of a progeny did there, either. Whatever Gaius would want with her will no doubt go beyond what she’s capable of at her age!”

The Trinity vampire gives a callous shrug. “It’s no concern of mine.”

Beside her Antony’s shoulders shift slightly — it takes more than a fair moment for them to realize he’s laughing. Somehow he was less intimidating with the large broadsword raised and ready than… this.

“If you had any idea what she really was… who she could be…” Antony clicks his tongue, glancing off to the side as if to say ‘you are no threat, I don’t even have to keep you in my sights.’

“No doubt you and anyone else who stands against him would be singing a different tu—”

The dagger, slender as it is sharp and keenly disguised without flair in the darkness, barely so much whistles through the air before the blade strikes true. Embedding itself deep in the vampire’s back just to the side of his spine as if in warning. Light as a feather but enough to throw the ancient vampire slightly off-kilter.

He stumbles on his words — rare for a man like him — and staggers one, two steps forward from the shock of it.

“You were always better suited for the stage, domine. What with the way you’re always running your mouth.”

The flash in his eyes, red and bright and vicious is enough to make it clear that Antony recognizes that voice. In fact if he thinks about it Cadence recognizes it too. As Isseya does, as Serafine does. But it shouldn’t be possible — the look he and his injured companion exchange long and in silent awe is proof enough of that. It should not be possible.

And yet.

Despite the odd angle at which the dagger rests deep in his back Antony manages to pry it free with a strange sort of grace. The kind befitting a man of his age and his role in the history of the world… always on the battlefield in some form or another. It slips from his flesh and muscle with a wet noise; catches the light in a strange array of glinting silver and crimson where it catches the light when he looks it over with cool indifference.

Anyone so well-immersed in their kind would know these blades from sight alone; who they belong to and exactly what kind of darkness they’ve invited in alongside it. Antony, of course, is no different.

By all accounts it seems to do nothing more than bore him. “And here I was under the blissful impression I would never again have to hear your snide and unjust superiority, Sayeed.”

His words are punctuated with the hollow metallic clatter of the dagger dropped from his hand and left abandoned by his feet. As inconsequential as the rest of the rubbish strewn up and down the narrow alleyway.

But when Antony finally turns towards the shadows to face the emerging Kamilah, that boredom is all but a fleeting dream. The hardness in his eyes is unmistakable. Already the gears are turning in his mind — evaluating the terrain, the advantages he has and even more importantly the ones he does not. It’s what’s kept him alive this long, that much is obvious.

Though judging by the way the former Bloodqueen looks him up and down positively murderous that may not be enough to save him this time around.

Her eyes never leave Antony’s, but Kamilah raises her voice to speak over the stone wall of him.

“You look a little winded there, Serafine. I do hope you haven’t lost your touch with a blade.”

Serafine who offers a meager, wispy laughter in reply. “I should hope not, Kamilah darling, but here we are.”

There’s a tic in Antony’s jaw. His teeth grind together audibly.

“I see the rumors of your demise aren’t the certainty they were made out to be.” And none of the vampires gathered miss the look he flits to his companion in the dark — barely even a twitch of his head but oh so damning nonetheless.

After all, it had been Isseya who told them — told Adrian and Nadya and Cadence himself — that there had been no survivors of Gaius’ final assault on New York’s remaining vampires.

No survivors typically means, well, no survivors.

But Kamilah Sayeed would be the exception to the rule.

She isn’t foolish enough to avoid Antony any longer than she needs to. “If I didn’t know better I would swear you almost seem glad of it, domine.”

“Glad of the opportunity to pry you like a thorn from my side, perhaps.”

Are they seriously bantering right now? Cadence shifts and holds Serafine closer when he feels her weight sag against him just shy of fully collapsing.

They stalk one another in the narrow space. Apex predators in the shadows — neither of them yielding or backing down; that simply isn’t their way.

But in the steely determination of their eyes Cadence swears — and maybe he’s just imagining it here, but he’s seen a lot of crazy things these last few weeks and this seems by far the least insane of them all — that a silent conversation passes between them. Not in their minds but in their movements and expressions. In centuries, millennia of history between them both. From when they served the same king to now, here, on opposite sides of the fight.

“One might wonder why a reputation such as yours would be so willing to vanish into thin air.” Antony muses low, practically under his breath. Kamilah blows a single strand of hair out of her eyes — the only part of her out of place.

“Reputation means little with so much at stake.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when the Bloodqueen no longer cares what her subjects see when they come face to face with her.”

He’s goading Kamilah — that much is plain as day. But the part that stuns Cadence (and Serafine at his side, judging by the tension rippling tight through her shoulders and how she fights off the pain of her wounds and hunger like she’s preparing herself to jump back into the thick of it) the most… is how it’s working.

Whatever that silent not-conversation they’re having is about, it’s enough to rattle her. Well and truly.

Suddenly Antony stops. Kamilah’s hand tightens around the hilt of her dagger; poised and ready to strike. But the Roman doesn’t use his gladius. He doesn’t need to.

Not when he can cast just as deep a wound in the knowing way he smiles at her through the darkness.

“You know what he’s planning then.”

He’s not asking so much as stating a fact. One Kamilah doesn’t deny. A quick glance down to the woman hanging from his shoulder tells Cadence everything he needs to know… frankly he’s happy to not be as out of the loop as he feels.

Even Isseya, when she shifts on the balls of her feet and draws Cadence’s attention away from the old foes, seems to only have a piece of the proverbial puzzle.

He’s really starting to hate puzzles.

Victory drips like poison from Antony’s smirk. He eases up in gait; leaning back to give the vampire he once called Queen a look far too cynical to be admiration, but the hint of it is undoubtedly there.

“I can’t say I’m all too surprised. Gaius was convinced your fixation on the Bloodkeeper girl would be a blind spot for you. Despite a fair few of us in his Court insisting it would pan out quite the opposite.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“On the contrary,” his frown returns deeper than before, “because now he may think twice before assuming to know more than his advisors.”

Advisors, Court. So much going on right now.

Antony waits — they all do — for how Kamilah will respond. It’s not something done out of politeness so much as it is a petty nail in the coffin; not the final one but damn well close enough.

She takes them all by surprise. Again. “I’ve never pretended to enjoy your ridiculous Roman politics Antony, especially outdated as they are. But there is nothing to gain from entertaining the ideas Gaius has come to believe over his century of imprisonment.

“Surely you don’t actually believe his claims.”

“Whether I agree with his ideas or not is inconsequential. You know as well as I do there is very little to be done when he demands something of one of us. Gaius demands the girl brought to him alive, it’s as simple as that.”

Antony shrugs — like he hasn’t met Nadya, hasn’t seen her cry in fear and rage and desperation. Whereas Cadence can’t seem to get the shrill noises out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

If this is what it means to live as long as them, he thinks, maybe I’m better off choosing compassion over years.

But… no. That’s not who Kamilah Sayeed is. He’s seen it with his own eyes — Serafine has too. Even now the very mention of what Nadya is (and what she might be, something they seem to be skirting around awfully carefully with their verbal chess) makes the woman stand taller; lights a different kind of fire in her eyes.

Now if only she would take the pair of them out and be done with it. But Kathy’s always had a thing or two in critique about his damned wishful thinking.

“Never in all my years did I expect to see the Marc Antony so willing to roll over at his Maker’s whim.” Kamilah sighs in something like disappointment. It just gets her another one-shouldered shrug while the man tap-taps his gladius against the pavement.

“All power is earned one way or another. You earned yours your way Kamilah, and I continue to earn mine… and the freedom it grants me… by doing what I must.”

An almost serene smile eases the tension in the man’s own shoulders. “And now, faced with yet another large shift in the way of the world, all I have to do is bring a girl to a king. Though I’ll admit I had started out thinking this would be a relatively simple task…” glancing aside, he looks knowingly, accusingly at Isseya and her stony mask of neutrality, “but I suppose that’s what I get for rushing in without a plan of attack.

“But if the girl truly is who Gaius believes her to be, if she can truly give him what he’s promised any vampire willing to abandon your feeble rebellion and bend the knee, then what’s a prolonged chase in the wake of a new age… of an immortal age.”

Cadence spares a fleeting, desperate look to Isseya for answers. She doesn’t have any to give.

And this is Nadya they’re talking about, yes? Nadya with her headaches and hallucinations and less control over her visions as she would let them all believe.

That Nadya?

“What the hell are you talking about, Antony?” he barks in growing anger; catches himself by surprise at the protectiveness in his voice, too. And he’s not the only one who hears it — Sayeed does too. “She’s the Bloodkeeper, that’s all there is to it!” Right?

He set himself up for that one though, to be fair.

Antony chuckles. Eyes flashing red and the hint of a fang curling at the seam of his mouth. “And do you know what that even means? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, but you’ve forsaken that part of yourself, haven’t you? And with it — answers.”

That’s getting them all nowhere. To Kamilah; “Please, Nadya’s desperate to see you again, Sayeed.”

Whose face falls before their eyes. The chill chased from her glare and her grip on her dagger wavering ever so slightly.

“I will not let him have her,” she says; and louder still, “I will not let Gaius take her away from me. He’s gone mad, well and truly, to believe in the myth of a myth. I would die before I let his obsession consume Nadya — before he would take her life on the chance that she…”

Chance that she what?

But Kamilah can’t bring herself to say it. There’s power in words; in speaking them aloud and giving life to them. Cadence knows that better than anyone.

But before he can even think of how to reassure her there’s a soft moan of pain near his ear that takes priority. Serafine sags heavier against his side; Cadence side-steps and balances them both to compensate for the added weight.

She won’t stay conscious for much longer (if she could be considered conscious now…) and this time is already far more different than their other encounters. Not just with Kamilah firmly between them and Antony’s game of cat and mouse either, but because the game seems to have finally played out longer than necessary.

They need to go. Now.

“I can’t recall ever seeing you rendered speechless, Kamilah.” Cadence isn’t the only one who knows they’re running on borrowed time. That’s why Antony goads her back his way — closer and closer still.

He thumbs a smear of Serafine’s blood from his gladius.

“Don’t tell me the renowned and vicious Bloodqueen is scared of — what did you call it — a myth of a myth? Or perhaps it’s the prophecy itself that disturbs you. I believe I recall your struggle for his affections so many years ago.”

Fuck. It works too well.

Kamilah rounds on him with renewed fury. “You have no idea what you speak of. And if you wish to live to see the dawn you’ll know never to speak of it again!”

“Ah, yes, well… I can understand the pain of an old flame extinguished; a love lost. I think all of us can,” but when he gestures with a sweeping arm no one dares, “or at the very least we might imagine what it must feel like to have your very being compared with a memory; a ghost.

“Everyone at Court knew, of course. How the Bloodqueen never quite measured up to the Goddess Herself.”

Kamilah Sayeed isn’t a woman to issue hollow threats but that’s not what this is. This is fear freezing her in her tracks, anger shaking her body to its core; an unfortunate truth — not all of it, but enough — being forced on her against her will.

“She cannot be brought back from the dead.”

Antony cocks his head to the side. “Are you quite certain? At any rate there seems to be little harm in trying.”

“If you dare…”

“What, Kamilah? If I dare what? What will you do — better yet what will you have the power to do when he gets his chance? Because it looks to me as though you would not be able to lift a finger, or a dagger at that.

“You would stand there as you stand before me now, held captive by your own weakness. Forcing yourself to watch Gaius Turn her, the Bloodkeeper fed the Blood of the First from his veins. And all would gather to see and bear witness as that blood would bring Her back in new form and face.”

Kamilah takes half a step back — a reflex she can’t control. Much like Cadence can’t control the feeling of his stomach dropping out from underneath him.

No one can truly rise above their own fear.

“He will never lay a finger on her.”

“Denial doesn’t become you.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cadence sees a flicker in the dark — Kamilah’s grip on her dagger renewed; made stronger by her own words. And oh how she practically shouts them into the night sky.

“Nadya is not the First Vampire!”

But the Roman remains unfazed. “Perhaps not yet…” he muses, and always with the same damned smirk.

“But she could be. And the King is quite determined to find out.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #lily spencer #jax matsuo #serafine dupont #marc antony #oc: cadence smith #oc: isseya #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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