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devalient · 3 years ago

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Tired But Never Of You (Part 1)

warning: slight cursing, blood, death

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

wordcount: 3.5k+

The nights may seem long but it was nothing compared to your longing desire to escape from your home. You’ve always been the first to rise and the last to fall ever since you could remember, bending over backward and breaking your back for the ones who reside in the house along with you. The only occasions where you were allowed to leave the house were a few - to run errands or to get groceries. To others, you were blissful as you were born in a family where you do not have to worry about losing the clothing on your body or the roof over your head. Hell, you were one of the few girls in your village who knew how to read and write. In the days where money is scarce and one may just freeze to death during the winter if they do not have enough firewood piled up, education is considered an unnecessary luxury.

You’ve been conditioned about how fortunate and lucky you were to never have to worry about money, but all the wealth that your family holds has nothing to do with you unless it was to benefit themselves. Whatever gorgeous yukata that you own does not actually belong to you although they were made for you to wear, merely something to present to the outside world about how well you were treated as a child of your family. Although you may be left alone to shop, you can be sure you were followed by a pair of hawk eyes, not for your protection, but to report your every move once the spy returns to the residence. To avoid another beating, you’d force the brightest smile you can manage, the sweetest words and the most elegant posture. That damn smile… you were convinced on a couple of occasions when you caught your reflection in the water or a passing window that everything wasn’t a facade.

Life has always been a dull repetition and it was often you found yourself living in the same loop. You had given up on making friends with the other girls from rich families, deciding their obsession with household power and status didn’t matter to you. Plus, they seemed to love lying for the slightest bit of attention and you were tired of the never-ending rumours that sprout from their vile tongues. You enjoyed being alone with no one to bother you, life was a lot easier and better lived that way.

There were a few occasional incidents that made your life interesting when warriors who bore the same black uniform and hidden swords underneath their belts came knocking on your door, usually requesting to be let in to stay for the night. There were an occasionate few who were wounded and had blood dripping off their clothes and onto the wooden floor they passed to get to their designated rooms. You were dying to ask who they were and what they do for a living, but couldn’t risk it due to the number one rule your family strictly follows - children should be seen and not heard. You would have scoffed if you dared, you were already 19 yourself, but you suppose that as long as you were living under your parents’ roof, you weren’t spared from the rule.

You have sent your stepmother and her son off that late afternoon. They spared you no words or waves as they set off in their carriage pulled by horses, happily chatting about their eagerness to visit the capital and what products they will buy from the crowded city. You shook your head and lock the doors after yourself, muttering that you’ll be surprised if they had responded with a word of gratitude to you for getting them ready for the trip. More than usual, you weren’t looking forward to their return. Last night when they thought you were asleep, the family of three had a row deciding which man to pick to wed you off. No doubt it will be someone who’s of the riches, they didn’t care about his personality or his looks. You were just another tool for them to increase their wealth, which was probably a major reason why you were still alive.

It has been a while since anyone of those black uniforms came knocking, and you wondered if they missed your house because of the faded paint of a wisteria crest on your door. Thinking you had better repaint it since no one was at home for another two hours, you hurriedly went to the shed to get what you need. It would be great if one of those people you’ve been wondering about showed up, you were alone with no one to watch it, it would have been a great opportunity to speak to your heart’s content.

But alas, the hope diminished and died as the sun went down. Your sharp ears picked up on your father’s horse’s heavy hooves and you rushed to put everything away before greeting your father. The man had clearly had a horrible day himself, you recognised the look on his family immediately. Who wouldn’t when it resembled thunder and lightning?

“There better be a hot dinner waiting for me on the table right now.” Your father snapped as he slid down the horse and threw the lead ropes at your direction. You would have caught it instead of letting the leather slap your face if you hadn’t froze at what he said.

Shit! There wasn’t even rice cooking at the moment, let alone a table of food!

Hearing only silence, your father turned back to look at you. You could have sworn that you could see the blood shoot up to his head when he saw the fearful look on your face. Then he caught sight of the fresh black paint on the front doors, and the crest told him exactly what you have been up to in his absence.

“I’ll see you in the room, y/n.” He spoke calmly and continued to walk in with his hands behind his back. You almost considered to fled on his horse, but a whistle from him would have easily called the horse to return to its original owner. With trembling hands and tears welling up in your eyes, you shut and locked the wooden doors behind you, hoping and praying for God to send someone to rescue you if there was one.

To many, the bright stars that dotted the sky served as a beautiful reminder that humans were born but only a handful of humans had the patience and knowledge to study them. A dark figure that had been traveling across the woods for what seemed like a lifetime was not one of them. He was about to give up and make do by sleeping on the forest ground when he caught sight of a lit-up lantern opposite the river. Jumping across the river was easy, he could have easily done that in his sleep. He made it to the front of the house and was impressed by his luck to be able to locate a house with the infamous wisteria crest. Good, that way he didn’t need to convince anyone to let him stay, or say anything in that matter. They’ll let him in once they see his uniform.

Much to his surprise, a young woman with a bright lantern came to the door after he had politely knocked on it three times. She had kept her head lowered and seemed satisfied to be staring at his feet. He was astounded, to say the least for the house was huge and he hadn’t expected anyone to come to him in a moment’s notice and was prepared to shout for the hosts. Sanemi grew uncomfortable when he saw the girl’s eyes looking at his body. He must have been a sight to look at, with his visible scars and a couple of bloody cuts here and there, but he wasn’t planning to frighten her with his appearance and be turned out into the night.

Instead of slamming the door on him like he thought she would, the girl pulled the door wider after sending a polite smile his way, “Welcome. You could have a bath first and attend to your wounds if you like.”

Sanemi almost forgot to blinked and ended up staring wide-eyed at the girl. She tilted her head to a side, wondering if she had said anything wrong or offended him. It snapped him out of his shock and he nodded solemnly at her, “That would be great, er… thank you.”

“Pleasure. You would have to wait a while for your supper I’m afraid, I am occupied with something and haven’t started cooking.”

As she led him through the corridor with him walking behind her, Sanemi couldn’t help but notice she was limping badly at one foot and there were parts of her yukata that were ripped. Under the guide of the dim light, he certainly couldn’t tell if the red patches on her clothes were part of the yukata’s design. His eyes trailed upwards and he saw that one of her braids was significantly shorter than the other. It looked like it had been chopped off carelessly.

“Okay.” He replied to her gruffly, suddenly growing alert to his surroundings. Had the girl just been attacked? It couldn’t have been a demon, she would have been screaming and running for her life and it would have come for him once it caught a sniff of his blood.

It was a while before he was ready for dinner and he had hoped for something warm and something sweet to fill his belly. He had wanted to request for ohagi from the girl earlier, but felt like he would be overstepping his boundaries. Besides, it would take hours before it could be done. He paced while he waited in the guest bedroom, waiting impatiently for the girl to let him know food was ready, but another half an hour passed and it was clear that no one was coming. Clinging onto his earlier suspicion, Sanemi slid the door open and left the room, opting to look around the parameter to make sure nothing was wrong.

While exploring the house, he found it odd that there seemed to be no one else beside you in the house. It would be weird if this giant house only has you as a resident and it ws aunlikely a girl your age is left alone. Sanemi had almost walked past the kitchen in the dark and had to double back to make sure he hadn’t just hallucinated the cooking stoves and appliances that were placed in there. He tensed, things were getting more and more suspicious, and just where in the hell was his host?

Sanemi was exasperated, he couldn’t have followed a ghost and waltzed into an abandoned building, could he? Screw Tengen and his shitty ghost stories.

Just as he was about to let a yell rip through the house, a loud clang from a short distance away caught his attention. Sanemi ran to the source and soon found himself staring at a shadow of a figure that was busy hauling an obese body into a hole dug in the earth, grunting and cursing as she did so. “For fuck sake, even a damn pig isn’t this heavy.”

For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, seemingly finding it difficult to understand the fact that his host was trying to bury a corpse. When his senses came back, he was next to her in an instant, a hand shoving her roughly away from the body she had been pulling and tugging at. The girl shrieked in pain as she was thrown a few feet away, her body landing and rolling a few times on the ground once she had made contact with the ground. Tears welled up her eyes and she began to wail loudly, feeling excruciating pain exploding all over at once.

A finger under the man’s nose told Sanemi that he hadn’t been breathing for quite some time now and the deep stab wounds in his chest and face told him there was no way the man could be revived. He couldn’t even tell what the man looked like originally because his face was badly disfigured. The girl was still sobbing on the ground and it irked Sanemi on how much noise she was making. He reached for the lantern she had left on the ground and stormed towards her, stepping on her back to stop her from crawling away. He had barely used a tenth of his strength when the girl started screaming in pain, prompting him to remove his foot from her in a flash.

“Why did you kill that man? You’re not one of the people living here, are you?” he asked her, his voice commanding so much authority and tone that dared her to lie.

“I- I am, I swear I a-am! Please let me go!”

“Answer my question first, why did you kill him? Who’s he? What do you have against him?”

“He-he-” You couldn’t finish your words and started bawling once more, burying your head underneath your arms.

Sanemi held the lantern over your head and all the menace in his face vanished when he saw how much of a sorry state you were in. The light was enough for all the black and purple bruises and cuts on your arms to be visible.

“Shit, what happened? Were you kidnapped by that pig? How long have you been here?”

Sanemi was quick to pick you up in his arms and the world was a blur as he took you back to the guest bedroom you had given him for the night. If he thought you looked terrible with your wounds earlier, you looked even worse under the lights that he had lit up in his room earlier. The top of your yukata was white whereas the bottom half was red. And instead of that original colour, Sanemi was looking at the version that was stained red. He could even see some of the blood had turned brown due to time. It sickened him when he looked at the bottom half of your yukata properly, he could tell there were huge patches of blood that wasn’t supposed to be there.

You hiccupped, gripping the fabric of your yukata tightly in your hands. “He- he was going to kill me I think, I had- had to.”

“That’s enough.” The man shushed you, using one of his feet to open the bathroom door.

Without a word, he sat you down on the stool you had left there for him and started tending to your wounds. Unlike earlier, he never once clicked his tongue or showed his annoyance when you winced and gasped. Mostly, you covered your face with a towel and screamed into it when you couldn’t take the pain anymore. Your leg had shot forward and almost kicked him in the face once, but he easily dodged it and continued his work. At one point, you winced a bit too hard and grabbed the wet towel out of his hands and threw it against the wall to demand him silently to stop. You had expected him to lose his temper, but he stood up and retrieved the towel after giving you a pat on the head. Feeling like you were the worst person in the world, you hadn’t moved since and tried your best to distract yourself by watching what he was doing. He was patient and blew on the wounds on your leg when it was starting to hurt a little bit too much, cleaning it with water and wrapping it medicine and bandage right after. He did your face next, retying your remaining hair behind your head before he got to work. Unlike your stepmother who used to tug harshly at them when she had to do your hair when you were a child, all you could feel was his soft hands. You were convinced he was massaging your scalp and had to force yourself to straighten up when you were subconsciously starting to lean towards him.

You tried to hold your tears in as the man kneeled in front of you and started to clean the blood off your face, but you couldn’t help the constant stinging of your nose and at last squeezed your eyes shut. Your father had always been careful not to whip your face when he was in a rage, only hitting the areas where your clothes would hide your wounds. You didn’t know what came over him this time as he was hitting you everywhere he could reach. You tried hard not to make a face or a sniffle, and wished you could cover your face to hide your tears from him. Warm, callous hands wiped your tears away tenderly each time they rolled down, but you never heard a word of complaint from him.

Finally, he was done and his face reminded you of a beetroot for what he said next, “Erm,” He was adamant in looking at the wall next to him, “You can do the rest of your body right? Is it any worse than your limbs?”

Your stomach was in the worst state compared to the rest of your body, but there was no way you would let him know that. Instead, you forced a smile and nodded. “There’s some leftover lunch and desserts in the kitchen. I’m sure you’re starving so please help yourself even though they are cold. I can manage on my own from here.”

It was embarrassing to be such a shitty host, but it can’t be helped given your circumstances.

And he was out of the bathroom like the wind. You chuckled in amusement, only to hiss in pain when you felt your wound started to tear. Slowly, you started to undress yourself, trying to move as little as possible as your brain raced to think of a believable story to tell your stepmother and her son about your father’s disappearance. It would be at least two weeks before they’ll be back, and you wondered if you should move your father’s corpse deeper into the woods instead of burying him in your back garden. As you continued to submerge yourself into the consequences of getting caught as your father’s killer, you failed to notice the amount of blood that was coming out of the wounds of your stomach, and that the blood wasn’t stopping. Your hear felt dizzy and you lowered yourself onto the floor to avoid yourself from falling off the chair and risk giving yourself a concussion, then suddenly deciding the floor seemed like a good place to take a short nap to regain your energy, you laid down and shut your eyes. You’ve had quite the day, it’s ok to get a little sleep before the next sunrise, right?

Instead of heading towards the kitchen like his host had expected him to, Sanemi was just on the other side of the door. When he no longer heard movement or noise coming from the bathroom, he called for you, “Oi, are you still alive?”

There wasn’t an answer or the soft chuckle he had heard earlier from you, and that immediately sent a panic-stricken Sanemi to burst through the door. Indecent or not, he had to check on your to make sure you were alive. He swore he had almost gotten a heart attack when he spotted you laying on the floor, and the throbbing of his heart got worse when he saw the amount of bloody bandages that you had thrown into the rubbish bin. He darted to where you laid and was momentarily relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. Seeing that you had lost consciousness and that he couldn’t just leave a wounded person on the floor, Sanemi picked up the towel he had left on the sink earlier and continued dressing your wounds, carefully propping you up against his front. Delaying the inevitable, he started on the wounds on your back, but it didn’t take him long to finish up. Sighing, he began to work on your stomach while quietly cussing about how he was not a fucking doctor and that he hoped that he was doing it right. At the crack of dawn, he will fetch Shinobu over, the Butterfly estate is always treating the injured. Better not move you and risk having your wounds tearing further. He thought it was lucky that your chest was still covered by fabric, otherwise, he wouldn’t know how to explain himself without being labelled as a pervert. Oh, and Shinobu can definitely change you when she’s here tomorrow. And you were also so much easier to care for when you out like light, he no longer had to endure the aching look you wore on your face and how you tried to hold your tears in and act brave. It both angered and saddened him immensely.

#kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny imagines #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba headcannons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer headcannons #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa imagines #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi shinazugawa headcannons

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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Hey Eve how are you doing I hope you're having a good day. Could you possibly if you want to make a fic like after the disownment fic and there's an interview with Sirius, Remus or (or the lions) on how they felt and there reactions and stuff only if you want to ofc I hope you are having a good day

This isn't a social media fic, but it does include include this prompt and was combined with an ask for Sirius having a hard time in the wake of a breakdown because he was doing so well before. Please pay attention to the TWs and let me know if I missed any. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW child abuse (past), angst, past trauma, mentions of going to therapy, and feeling overwhelmed

The studio cameras hadn’t seemed scary in a long, long time. Sirius stared at the white floor, toying with his ring and trying not to run screaming from the building; this is for them, he reminded himself. For everyone like me who never had someone speak up for them. The metal folding chair was cold under him.

“Sirius?” There was no hint of teasing in Marlene’s voice. “Are you ready?”

He had already saved himself and Regulus. Now it was time for the rest of them. “Oui.”

“Rolling in three, two, one…”

“My name is Sirius Black,” he said, channeling all the strength and control he could manage into his voice as he straightened up. “I’m 27 years old, the center and captain for the Gryffindor Lions hockey team, and a Stanley Cup champion.” He took a breath. “And I grew up in an abusive home. Last week, my biological parents officially disowned me for refusing to go back into the closet and under their control. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no media present. There was a lot of paperwork.

“But I’m not here to talk about that.” He swallowed, and felt some of his confidence return. Behind the camera, Marlene gave him an encouraging look with a shine in her eyes. “I’m here to talk to everyone else in my situation and let you know that you’re not alone. You can get out of there, and you can be the freest version of yourself. For the next month, 1/12 of all proceeds from Lions tickets will go to charities supporting abuse survivors and those currently living in abusive situations. My story is not the only one. We can make a difference.”

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

Sirius laid on his back on the lobby couch, letting “Radio Gaga” thump in his ears and drown out the tremors in his body. He had never said it publicly before—as far as the rest of the hockey world knew, his family was only rumored to be strict. He had been hesitant to do the video at first despite the tsunami of questions flooding their social media, and it wasn’t until Marlene suggested the charity aspect that he agreed.

Sirius didn’t like press. He liked it even less when it was poking around in his past, and when he had to support it.

The song ended and he paused the music, listening to his own breathing and steady pulse. You’re okay. You’re done. You made it through. He didn’t feel okay.

“—proud of him,” someone was saying inside the studio. Remus. “It was a complicated and painful thing to work through, but he never wavered from what he wanted and what was best for him.”

Six of his other teammates would speak, supporting the charity with a quick mention of their own feelings in case any assholes on the internet got bright ideas about speaking for them and their feelings on Sirius’ disownment. It was insane what people thought they found by digging through interviews.

“Hey, baby.” Sirius opened his eyes; above him, Remus was leaning over the armrest of the couch with a tired smile. He kissed Sirius’ forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Ready to go home?”

“Don’t we have to stay until the end?”

“Marlene said she had everything she needed from us.”

Sirius blew out a slow breath and stood, wrapping his arms around Remus on instinct. “This feels like it’s going to go badly.”

“I don’t think it will,” Remus said quietly, rubbing up and down his spine. “I think it’s going to help a lot of people, and I hope it means we stop getting nosy comments now that you’ve answered the big questions and made it clear that’s the end.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They walked to the car in relative silence, hand-in-hand; Remus took the keys without a word, and relief washed over Sirius in a cool breeze. He didn’t feel grounded enough to drive safely. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he ever would. The whole world was hazy outside the passenger window, blurring the city he loved so much into smudges of colors—Remus was a presence next to him, but what Sirius wanted more than anything was some hot chocolate and a long, long nap.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

Remus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “Do I need to pull over?”

“No, I just…” He sighed. “I thought I would feel better after getting this off my chest and helping people. I feel bad.”

“Can you eat?” He nodded. “I’ll make some soup when we get home if you want to lay down for a bit.”

Sirius’ eyes burned. “Sounds good.”

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Remus soothed, reaching one hand down to close around the one Sirius kept on his thigh as Sirius sniffled and shook with the effort of keeping in his tears. “It’s okay. You can call Marlene and ask her not to publish the video. That’s in your rights, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Sirius choked out, wiping his tears away with the back of his wrist. “It has to happen. People have to know that they can help. I—I just—I don’t know how to feel and so everything is happening at once.”

Nobody had taught Sirius how to handle Feelings-with-a-capital-f until Dumo; suddenly, he felt like all that hard work was being undone in one fell swoop. He kept ahold of Remus’ hand and let the tears slide down his cheeks as he breathed through it, keeping both feet firmly planted in some semblance of control. Remus parked the car and turned to him without unbuckling his seatbelt. “Do you want to go inside, or should we drive for a bit?”

“I really want to go to bed.”

“How can I help?” Remus laced their fingers together again and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “You really don’t seem alright, love.”

“I’m not, and I don’t know how to fix it.” The words were broken glass in his throat. “I was doing so good. I don’t know how to go back.”

“Oh, baby,” Remus murmured, taking his seatbelt off to kiss Sirius’ temple. “Let’s go inside, yeah? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Sirius nodded mutely, still pressing his lips together to stifle any sounds that tried to come out. It always seemed like when he started to cry, he couldn’t stop—whether that was a function of never crying for the majority of his life, he didn’t know, but it always felt horrible. No mistakes, his mother had told him. The video felt like a mistake. Still, he knew he couldn’t ask them to take it down. There were people that needed help, and he couldn’t let his childhood hide in the shadows anymore.

Remus turned as if to hug him when the door closed behind them, but Sirius slipped past and headed straight for the stairs. Sweatpants, hoodie, soup, blanket, talk. Talk, talk, talk until you can’t stop. Then sleep. He heard Remus moving around in the kitchen as he stripped down and dug his softest sweatpants out of the drawer, followed by Remus’ most worn-down and oversized Wisconsin hoodie that he always wore when he didn’t feel well. Sirius buried his nose in the neckline and inhaled deeply; the familiar scent soothed the rush of blood in his ears.

He didn’t bother with socks and made a beeline for the couch, wrapping himself in the afghan blanket one of Hope’s friends had crocheted for their wedding. Hope had kept it in the Lupin house so she wouldn’t forget to bring it with her, and it smelled like them, too. It smelled like safety and a happy house and healthy childhoods.

Another tear slipped out when Remus set down some water and the soup—Campbell’s chicken noodle, can’t go wrong—and Sirius curled up against the armrest to make room. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

The cushions dipped as Remus sat next to him and crossed his legs. “About what?”

“Everything.” His voice broke. “The way I grew up, everything about it. I—Re, I never lied to you, I promise. I just didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to scare you, but I have to be honest with you.”

“…alright.”

Sirius took a shaky breath; his mouth was dry, and salty at the edges. “My parents—my parents hit me when I wasn’t good enough, and nothing was ever good enough unless I could do it again, and again, and again—”

“Sirius—”

“—and I thought everyone on my team didn’t get dinner if they didn’t get a goal and—”

“Stop—”

“—and Regulus and I, it was like we couldn’t breathe in that house with them scripting every move—”

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand covered his mouth and Sirius closed his eyes as a sob ripped free, but didn’t fight it. “Sirius, stop, please.”

“I have to tell you,” he said hoarsely, trembling from head to toe. “I have to be honest with you.”

“I love you, and I’m glad you can talk to me, but I’m not the person you have to tell.” Remus’ voice was thick with tears. “Being honest with me doesn’t mean telling me every detail, please, please don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes,” he blubbered, leaning into Remus. “What kind of fucking freak tells a child they can’t make mistakes?”

Remus shushed him softly, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he went boneless into Remus’ chest. He could feel the hitching breaths under his face and regret reared up, but he felt so empty. There was so much more he could tell Remus and nothing he could say. “I love you,” Remus began, sniffling slightly. “I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I love you, I’m going to tell you that I am not the person you need to tell all this to right now. You should talk to someone who knows how to help, like Heather.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

“No, I understand.” A kiss pressed against the top of his head. “And I’m not upset at you. Both our emotions are running really high. I just—this isn’t blaming you or to make you feel bad, but it hurts to hear all the horrible things that happened to you. I already wish I could have stopped it before it happened, but hearing you say it is a lot worse than thinking about it and I wasn’t ready to hear everything.”

“That’s not everything.”

“I know.” Remus’ voice cracked. “I know, and that’s the worst part. This video was a bad idea, I should call—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Sirius caught his wrist as he reached for the phone. “The video isn’t the problem. It will help people. It’s just hard for me to talk about it without getting overwhelmed.”

Remus hesitated, but left the phone alone and hugged Sirius close again. “I’m here.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna leave.” His chest rose and fell. “But—but if you need to tell me things, not just today, please give me fair warning first.”

“I will,” Sirius promised. They sat quietly for a moment before he sat up and pulled the soup bowl into his lap, letting the steam roll over his face. “Mon dieu, I was doing so good before this. It’s been the best two years and now…”

“Now it’s going to be better,” Remus filled in when he trailed off. A slender hand tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s going to be better, Sirius. For you, and for lots of other people that you’re helping. But this is the hard part.”

“This is the really, really hard part,” he agreed, taking a sip of broth. It was the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“It’s just soup.”

“No, for everything. Everything you’ve done for me.” he rested his head on Remus’ shoulder, then left a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I love you more than I can say.”

A wry smile tilted the side of Remus’ mouth up. “In English or French?”

“Both,” Sirius half-laughed. “Both, I promise. I’m going to finish this, and then can we take a nap?”

“That sounds perfect. Make sure to drink your water, too.”

It would not be an easy evening, or an easy night, or an easy anything when the video came out. But he would work through it, and he would remember what he had learned from his family and his friends to move past the roadblocks his childhood always created. He would call Regulus, they would cry together, and they would be okay. He would be okay.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #marlene mckinnon #vaincre #sweater weather #my fic #fanfic #interview #lumosinlove #disownment #child abuse #overwhelmed #hurt/ comfort #angst

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires | Lost Boys x OC CH 1

Summary: Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who's never stuck in one place for very long...until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she's there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk's nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie

Also posted on AO3

My requests are open!

Chapter one | Chapter two

Warnings: Blood, gore, smut, all that good stuff

Vera had been to a lot of cities, some of them twice, some of them three times, some even more, but none of them were quite as unique as Santa Carla. The boardwalk was crawling with lost souls, kids with nowhere else to go, and she was one of them; no family to call her own, no real friends, barely any possessions…Vera was a wanderer, a lone soul, a lost girl. She drifted from town to town, hanging around for a day or two if nothing interesting happened before moving on...and honestly, nothing very interesting ever happened.

Sometimes she took the bus, if she had the money from odd jobs or pick pocketing her meals, but for the most part, she was left to her own devices. She traveled on foot when she had to, avoiding major highways unless she was feeling up to a fight. During the day, she took refuge under bridges if she was broke, or motel rooms if she had a little cash. If she felt particularly frisky, sometimes she even managed to seduce locals into helping out, but for the most part, she only had herself as company, traveling by night for no reason other than an insatiable wanderlust and nobody else to spend her time with.

Nothing had ever held her in one place. She had started traveling a long time ago, when she realized she had no reason to stay in her hometown. Plus...people started to grow a little bit suspicious when they noticed too many bodies cropping up. The world was changing, and for someone like her, it was best to stay on the move.

After that, it became a habit, and she got used to wandering and never having a place to call home. Did it ever bother her? Sometimes, when she was resting, it did. She could stop and look at the stars, with some kind of foreign aching in her chest, but it was rare that she thought about it. It had started up years ago, and she had forced herself to get used to it. She had never found any cure, and while she lingered around the east coast, it had finally dulled to a strange, quiet pain. A constant throb in her chest, next to her heart, some kind of strange tightness that she was happy to forget whenever she could. It was becoming more frequent, though, as she neared California, and she chalked it up to the fact that she had been alone and hungry for far too long.

She would have to do something about that soon. She hated feeling hungry.

Vera hopped off the bus when it stopped in Santa Carla, a coastal town that boasted a crowded boardwalk and just the kind of nightlife she needed. From the road, she could see the bright lights of a Ferris wheel and even a roller coaster, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had always liked fairs and carnivals. They were fun and exciting, and good places to pickpocket. Plus, the chaos made it easier for her to go unnoticed.

At the bus stop, she was greeted with boards and telephone poles covered in missing persons ads, and it was an oddly comforting sight. She would fit right in.

“Murder capital of the world, huh?” she said to herself, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She had seen the graffiti on the back of a big WELCOME TO SANTA CARLA sign on the way in, and the flyers only added to the town’s reputation.

Yeah, this place was worth checking out.

The pier was bright, neon signs and carnival rides lighting up the night. Kids and adults alike were enjoying their summer, stuffing themselves with treats or screaming their way around the roller coaster. It all looked fun, she had to admit, and maybe once she had a chance to grab some cash she could hang around and enjoy herself. She could use a break from running constantly, and she was finding that the boardwalk was already making her happy.

As she walked through the crowds, Vera spotted every kind of person, from middle aged parents toting along a family of four to dirty vagrant children to punks to a couple of weird kids lurking around the comic book store. There were pizza places, cotton candy carts, all sorts of dine in restaurants and bars...Santa Carla seemed like it had everything, but mostly, it was a good place for someone like her to spend some time.

She sat herself down on a railing, trying to ignore the hunger pains she was feeling as she people watched. Beyond the homeless kids and the weirdos, the boardwalk was full of partygoers, and it looked like summer vacation was in full swing. There were a million smells in the air—cigarettes, weed, funnel cakes—but none of them really caught her attention. She let out a sigh, leaning her chin on her hand. She hated being indecisive about dinner.

“Ugh, Surf Nazis,” a woman whispered to her friend as they ran by.

“Gross,” the other wrinkled her nose.

Vera looked past them to the men that were shouting about their asses as they left and she snorted.

“What’s wrong, girls?” One of them yelled.

“Come back, we’ll show you a good time!” Another cackled, tossing an empty beer can over his shoulder.

Vera rolled her eyes. Disgusting, pathetic creatures, all standing around a trash can as they smoked. They smelled awful, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose, and it wasn’t just from their smoke. They were nasty, leering at girls and laughing loudly with each other when the women they were bothering scampered away.

Well, they weren’t her first choice, but at least she had found a meal.

She hopped off the fence and sauntered in their direction for a moment before turning, giving them just enough time to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them perk up, and before long, all four of them were following her through the crowd, shouting profanities as she made her way down to the pier.

“Hey baby, where you goin’?” one yelled, jogging to keep up with her pace.

Vera looked over her shoulder. “Down under the boardwalk...unless you’re chicken.”

She heard a chorus of hoots and whistles and grinned to herself. Men were so easy.

“I call first dibs!”

“I wanna piece of that ass!” Another yelled.

They always did. Vera was a short girl, only around five feet tall, and stocky. She carried her weight in her legs, giving her thick thighs and a round butt that could never quite stay covered by the denim shorts she loved to wear so much.

Boys liked the way she looked. They liked how she seemed so easy to grab, so soft, so touchable. As the Surf Nazis followed her down the rickety stairs to a secluded spot under the boardwalk, their hands were already moving, unbuttoning pants and reaching for Vera as if they were entitled to her. She smiled sweetly as she backed into the shadows, cooing for them to follow, grinning sickly when they obeyed. They always did, like lambs to the slaughter, never clever enough to recognize her predatory gaze and dangerous movements until it was too late.

Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could catch a glimpse of her bra or panties before it was over, but tonight, Vera had little patience for the dirty fingers that tried to pull her shirt off and her shorts down. Their faces leered down at her, even in the darkness, grunting as they palmed themselves through their pants.

She gave them a second to enjoy it before her lips twisted into a sick grin and she reached for them, nails like claws and teeth like fangs. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of their screams, but the waves crashing against the sand drowned the grisly noises out. As she tore into them, she laughed, loving the way they were so terrified now that they had completely lost any sense of power over her.

Boys always liked the way she looked, until she was covered in their friends’ blood.

-o-

David was having a boring night.

His boys were under control for the time being, lounging on their bikes next to him. Paul and Marko were laughing loudly, occasionally punching each other just for the hell of it, and Laddie was reading a comic as he clung to Dwayne. Star had decided to stay home for the night, and nobody was complaining about that; at the thought of her, David growled to himself, grimacing at the reminder of the troublesome bitch. Max had wanted a daughter and a good mother for Laddie, and what had they ended up with? A mopey, whiny little cunt who refused to kill and feed like everyone else.

Feed...damn, he could go for a snack. He could practically taste blood in the air as he thought about grabbing a bite, fangs threatening to lengthen. He hadn’t even thought he was that hungry, but now that he was thinking about it, it was bugging him, and when David got the urge to feed, there were very few things that could stop him. The hunger would sometimes gnaw at him the way it did a newborn, and even Max was occasionally put off by it. It was something he expected from a younger vampire, like Marko, maybe, but David? His appetite could be insatiable, truly monstrous in a way that most others’ weren’t.

The boys picked up on his hunger and he heard a few growls of agreement before he nodded for Dwayne to take Laddie back to the cave. The kid was never allowed to go with them when they hunted, and Dwayne was capable enough to grab something for himself if he didn’t catch up with them. Ever since Laddie had gotten his pesky little hands on their bloody wine bottle, they had been stuck with him, and if Dwayne hadn’t turned out to be so good with the kid, David would’ve been irritated beyond belief.

It all worked out, though, and Laddie fit in well with the rest of the group. David just had to keep reminding himself to be patient.

“Anybody catch your eye?” Paul asked as his brother took off down the beach with their youngest member.

“Absolutely fucking no one.” David sneered.

The tall blonde straightened up to sniff the air. “Get a whiff of that, though…”

David paused, mimicking Paul. He was right. There was a metallic scent on the breeze, the sweet smell of fresh blood. It made him thirsty, and as he led Paul and Marko down the boardwalk, it only grew stronger.

“Shit,” Marko mumbled as they started down the stairs to the beach. Once they had broken free of the crowd, the scent had hit them like a train, and even David was having trouble controlling himself.

“Careful,” he warned, voice coming out with a ragged, heavy breath.

Murders happened in Santa Carla all the time, and not only because of the Lost Boys. It was a rough place, full of drugs and vagrants, and the violence only helped them blend in. Someone had probably gotten themselves in trouble under the boardwalk, and at this point David was just hoping that the killer was still around to sate his hunger. They never fed from corpses, so stumbling across them never yielded any good results unless they were in the mood to rip them apart for shits and giggles.

David was not in the mood.

He led Paul and Marko off the stairs and through the sand, hurrying now as the blood filled his senses. It was so fresh, and there was so much of it...this wasn’t normal, even for the murder capital of the world. What kind of sadistic human would cut someone up enough to spill so much blood? What the fuck was going on under his boardwalk? Sure, it was something he would do, but other than his boys, who could possibly be that brutal?

It was in the shadows of the pier that he finally got the answers to all of his questions.

Just like the blood had, her scent hit him like a freight train. He could tell Paul and Marko were just as confused by the way they stopped and hissed, fangs already out as they looked down at the bodies littering the sand. It was a gorey scene, throats and stomachs ripped open, Surf Nazis gutted with their pants down.

And in the middle of it all, she had the audacity to glance up at David, and then completely disregard him as she turned back to her final victim. She wasn’t worried in the slightest about the three males, and that pissed David off a little. When he would have snarled a warning at her insolence, he found himself distracted instead, head tilted and lips parted as he drank in her scent and checked her out.

She was wearing shorts that barely covered her bloody legs, ratty combat boots on her feet and an equally ratty denim vest over a ripped up black shirt. Her ebony hair was cut into some sort of shaggy mullet, falling around her shoulders. It was long and wavy and glossy, but tousled and messy, no doubt thanks to feeding.

He could only stare in shock at the black-haired girl that was feasting on a Surf Nazi. He couldn’t decide if he was angry at someone else hunting on his turf or happy to find a real female vampire, one that wasn’t stupid and whiny like Star, but the one thing he knew for sure as he took a step towards her was that he was just the tiniest bit turned on.

Paul and Marko could both smell the tiniest hint of their leader’s arousal, and it excited them. They weren’t used to supernatural girls, and the thought of getting a turn with her was enough to make the air heavy with the scent of lust as they followed David.

Paul let out a low whistle behind him. “Shit, first time I wouldn’t mind bein’ a Surfer. I’d take a little of that sugar right now, know what I’m sayin?”

The vampiress lifted her head from her victim and smiled, drunk on blood and high off the hunt. “I don’t usually share meals, but I’ll give you the rest of this one if it gives me a free pass back outta here.”

Paul tensed to take her up on the offer, but David stopped him. “Free pass?”

The girl sat back from the still-whimpering Surf Nazi, blood running down her chin. “Figure you wouldn’t want me in your territory. Sorry. Didn’t realize anybody else was here, else I’d have been moving on already.”

David smirked. “No need, sweetheart.”

She furrowed her brow.

“It’s feeding time, boys. Grab a snack.” David grinned, allowing Paul and Marko to surge forward and rip into the Surf Nazi. He watched with a twinge of annoyance as Paul turned from his meal and pressed his bloody lips to the girl’s, but that annoyance turned into surprise when she kissed back, albeit lazily.

She smiled as her lips moved against his, a hand moving to tangle in his wild hair. Fire tore through Paul and he growled, pushing her down until her back hit the sand and her chest touched his as her breaths turned into frenzied pants.

Hands ran down her sides, hard nails digging into her skin as Paul nipped at her lower lip. With a whine, she arched up against him, tugging at his hair until he snarled.

“Paul,” David growled a warning.

Paul sat back up with an irritated grumble, licking his lips before plunging his fangs into the Surf Nazi and leaving Vera alone.

David had to admit, he had never met a female vampire that wasn’t stuck in limbo like Star. They seemed rare, or at least they were around California, but Max had always told him that girls of their kind were a special breed. He was already feeling a tug toward her, some kind of something pulling at his chest whenever she moved, and before he knew what he was doing, he was crouching down to suck up the last few drops of blood while his boys turned their attention to the killer.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Marko asked, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Vera,” she answered with the sweetest voice either of them had ever heard, practically a purr.

Paul sighed, leaning in again. He was head over heels already. “What brings you here to our little corner of the world, Miss Vera?”

She blinked, and they were fucking mesmerized by those lashes and those hazel eyes. “Just passing through, boys. Don’t wanna step on any toes.”

Paul groaned. He wanted her to stay. She smelled amazing, and when she had returned the kiss he hadn’t even realized he was giving her, he felt jolts of electricity shoot through every part of his body.

He wanted more.

“Damn, babe, you’re breakin’ my heart,” he said, holding her face so that he could lick blood off her chin.

“No fair,” Marko nudged his brother. “I want a taste…”

David looked up from the drained corpse, listening as his boys slurred with love drunk voices. Max had warned him about females, about those with foreign sires. They could trap you in a web of lust, keep you dumb and happy there for as long as they wanted, rob you blind and kill your entire family...but somehow, he got the feeling that Vera wasn’t even trying to fuck with them. There was no misty, foggy sensation that would signify magic, no eye contact, no focus. As he rose to his feet, he realized he was walking towards her of his own accord, the only spell being that strange, unspoken one that kept pulling him to her.

He had an inkling of what it could be, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up.

“Got a place to stay, darling?” He asked as he shoved his boys out of the way and knelt before Vera.

She leaned toward him, a sweet smile on those bloody lips that told him she was confident enough in her ability to handle them all. She was calm, completely in control of herself, even when faced with three healthy male vampires. Her eyes were half-lidded, long lashes fluttering whenever she blinked.

When her tongue slipped out to lick blood off her lips, David’s eyes widened at the sight of something he had never seen before. It was split in two, each side moving of its own accord easily. Paul let out an eager noise, Marko shoving him with his shoulder to try to get a better look. Vera just laughed at their fascination, pulling her tongue back into her mouth and smiling.

David could feel her breath on his cheek as she took in his scent and he couldn’t help the shiver that went up his spine. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her better than Paul had, to fuck her and hear his name on her lips. He wanted to show her how strong he was, to impress her, to prove himself for some reason. He would kill a hundred surfers if he had to, if it would grant him her favor. He would sit out in the sun and burn himself if it meant he could be hers.

He had never felt this way about anyone, and it was pissing him off.

Vera laughed to herself. She could smell his desire, and she knew that it was because of her. Just like those Surf Nazis, these vampires wanted her, but at least she liked this little pack. What’s more, that aching in her chest had stopped when they showed up, and she had a feeling she knew why.

It was a little bit terrifying, though, and she wasn’t about to stop and think about it.

“What are you suggesting?” She asked, brushing her fingers along his cheek, a smear of blood following.

“Stay with us,” he breathed, blue eyes locked with hers.

“Darling, I don’t even know your name,” she quipped, never shifting her gaze.

“David,” he said with a slight growl as he felt himself getting lost in her eyes.

“David,” she repeated, voice soft and breathy. Her hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, nose twitching as he smelled the fresh blood in her wrist. It was sweet, sweeter than any blood he had ever encountered before, and all he wanted to do was sink his fangs into her flesh and get a taste.

Vera heard a sigh and finally took her eyes off David. The other two were watching, just off to the side, staring hungrily at their leader and the new girl.

“And what about you two?” She asked, hand sliding down to the side of David’s neck to keep him in check. She was confident enough in herself to handle him, but at the same time, he put her on edge. There was no way she was going to let her guard down around him yet.

That was the thing about female vampires, though; they had the uncanny ability to always put on a facade, and Vera was no exception. David made her nervous—they all did, honestly—but she wasn’t about to let them know that.

“Paul,” the tall blonde said quickly, rushing forward as if he would die without her touch. He pressed his nose against her throat, breathing her scent as if he was starving.

“Marko,” the smaller one followed, desperately reaching out to touch her hair.

“Paul,” she purred, earning a growl. “...Marko…”

Another growl.

They acted like they needed her, all three of them, but they were behaving themselves. She had no doubt that if she gave them the go ahead, she would be naked within seconds, but for the moment, they were listening to her. She had never experienced something like this before; usually, other vampires ignored her, or threatened her until she left their territory. These boys seemed to adore her, and she had to admit, she liked it.

“Paul, Marko,” David said roughly. “Clean up so we can go home.”

With a groan, the younger two did as they were told, dragging Surf Nazi corpses into the ocean before wiping their hands and faces clean.

“You’re their leader,” Vera said, more as an observation than anything else. “Are you their sire?”

David smirked as he helped her to her feet. “Depends on how you look at it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way to look at that, David.”

He melted when she said his name, leaning in to catch another whiff of her scent. It was sweet, like honey, sticky and sick, and all he wanted was to drown in it. “What have you done to me, Vera?”

She smiled and took his hand, raising it to lick blood off of his fingers. “Nothing on purpose, I promise.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind,” Paul suddenly grabbed her from behind, arms snaking around her waist as he buried his nose in her black hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a happy sigh. The feeling of her there in his arms, pressed up against him, was enough to make his fangs slide out again, and he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue up the side of her neck.

David snarled, snapping only inches from his brother’s face. “Behave.”

“You say as if you are,” Vera snorted, giving David a gentle push and easing her way out of Paul’s grip. “But you boys are all very sweet. I don’t mind the attention.”

“Oh, you have our attention, sweets,” Paul whistled as she turned and bent over to wash her face and hands at the water’s edge, giving them all a good view of her ass. A low rumble rose in David’s throat as he appreciated the sight, and Marko echoed it.

“So greedy,” Vera mocked as she straightened up again. “Are you this nice to every bloodsucker that hangs out on your boardwalk, or is it just me?”

“Just you, that’s for sure,” Marko said, almost cackling.

“The others aren’t so delicious,” Paul cooed with that signature laugh.

“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” Vera said, walking back to them. Now that her arms and legs were clean of blood, they could see that she was covered in tattoos, and David wondered if she had them as a human before she was turned, or if she had found some way to make the ink stay in her regenerative skin.

Paul gave her a cocky grin and David rolled his eyes. His brother was such a flirtatious bastard. He was a lady killer, literally, even more than David was, but Vera didn’t seem to mind his advances. She seemed comfortable with Paul, taking it all in stride.

It made David just the tiniest bit jealous.

“Come with us.” He said it more as an order than an offer, extending his hand out to her.

“Unless you got somewhere better to go,” Marko joked.

“And there ain’t nowhere better,” Paul snickered.

“There aren’t too many places to hide from the sun on a boardwalk,” Vera snorted. She was finally coming down from her high, the thrill of the hunt fading again and giving way to her less monstrous personality. “I was going to have to find a good spot anyways…”

Now that she wasn’t operating solely on instinct, she could take a moment and think about her situation. Three male vampires, none of whom had tried to kill her for stealing prey in their territory, seemed to be absolutely obsessed with everything about her and wanted her to go home with them. One had even kissed her and she had kissed him back, because it had felt so right. She allowed them to touch her, to taste her skin, to share her meal. They were stronger than her, and they outnumbered her, but she still felt like she was...in charge?

David, the definite leader of the little pack, was looking at her hopefully. His face was stony, but she could see excitement in his blue eyes, and when she smiled, there was a spark of something in those irises.

“Just don’t kill me in my sleep,” Vera joked as David took her hand and began leading her back up to the boardwalk.

“No promises,” Marko leered as they followed.

“You look good enough to eat, babe,” Paul growled playfully, lunging forward to cop a feel of her ass.

Vera only laughed, but David snarled dangerously at his brother, moving his arm to Vera’s shoulders and pulling her against his side.

“Relax, you big angry beast,” Vera said with a grin, raising her hand to his chin and giving a teasing scratch.

David huffed and Marko hooted with laughter. “Damn, she’s way more fun than you, David!”

“I dig this chick,” Paul snickered.

“You better share her,” Marko whined.

David smirked as they climbed the stairs back up to the boardwalk. Could he manage that? He only ever shared things with his brothers, but even then, he was terrible at it. Vera had some kind of magnetic pull on him, yeah, and his mouth watered at the thought of keeping her around, but Marko and Paul were both obviously into her...and she was into them.

She was into all of them.

He needed to talk to Max. He honestly hated having to ask his sire for help or advice, and he avoided it whenever he could. Max had never been very nurturing, despite wanting everyone to act like a big family. It worked out for the boys, sure, but Max was…not a great father. A patriarch, yes, always seated at the head of the metaphorical table, but he was cruel and cold towards David, and he had been from the very start. He thought they all needed a stern hand to keep them in check, and David didn’t like that.

Still, Max let them run free, and he knew more than David did about their own kind. He was helpful, sometimes, in his own way, and his son was going to have to defer to him. He had questions about Vera, about the pull he felt toward her, and Max was the only one with the answers.

As they returned to the boardwalk and joined the crowd of humans, Vera was pleased to see that the sea of people parted for the boys. They stepped aside, glancing with mixtures of emotions at the little pack. Girls looked dreamy, parents grabbed their children, Surf Nazis raised their lips in sneers. Was it because of their reputation, or did the humans somehow know that they should be afraid of the predators that stalked Santa Carla? She hoped it was both. She hoped that these boys were wild and rowdy enough to rule this boardwalk, and she hoped that they liked her enough to keep her around.

She glanced up at the sky, a few stars twinkling despite the light pollution from the city. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t itching to hop on a bus or hitch hike to the next town. For once in her life, Something was occupying her mind, and the wanderlust was giving way to another, completely foreign feeling. The ache in her chest was gone, but it was replaced by a strange, burning, almost longing that she had never felt before. It was almost similar to the emotions she experienced during bloodlust, but she was in control of herself. Her fangs weren’t poking through, her eyes weren’t shining...she was happy and her hunger was sated, so where was this coming from?

She was still avoiding the one train of thought that would bring her to the right conclusion. It was just too much to consider, especially with everything happening so quickly all of the sudden.

They came to a halt when they reached their bikes, Dwayne already back from dropping Laddie off. From the looks of it, he had grabbed a bite on the way, jeans stained with fresh blood that the humans would just assume was from a fight.

Vera stopped. There was another male here? She was finding it hard to believe that she had stumbled across a pack of four males without any females, but she couldn’t smell much in the way of estrogen on them. It was just odd; vampires didn’t usually live in bachelor groups like these, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely unheard of. It was just strange that they hadn’t found any girls they wanted to keep around for all eternity.

Most people got lonely eventually. Maybe these four were all actually lovers...but she hadn’t seen any marks that would mean they were claimed, and she hadn’t smelled or sensed anything that would lead her to believe that they were serious.

Odd.

The one leaning against the bike was tall, long dark hair falling around his shoulders and a curious, but serious, expression on his handsome face. She felt frozen under his gaze, uncharacteristically nervous, like a deer in the headlights. It was like he could see right through her, and she didn’t know if she liked that or not.

“Dwayne, this is Vera,” David said as he tugged her along. She found a way to make her legs work again and followed, letting a smile curl its way onto her lips when Dwayne bowed his head to her.

“And she’s tough,” Marko said, bouncing over to his bike.

“And she’s gorgeous,” Paul took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss as he passed her.

“I can see that,” Dwayne said, his voice deep and smooth, a seductive smile on his lips.

David narrowed his eyes, but tried to hide the movement with a smirk. “Keep an eye on her. I’m going to visit Max.”

“Oh, I’ll keep both eyes on her,” Paul winked as he beckoned for her to sit behind him on his motorcycle.

David rolled his eyes, desperately trying to not make a scene. “Control yourself. I’ll be back.”

He pressed a kiss to Vera’s head, inhaling deeply before leaving her side and stalking off down the boardwalk. He could already feel his sire tugging questioningly at his consciousness, curious as to why David was so eager to speak to him. His son had always been good at blocking him out, keeping his mind locked down unless he needed something or there was trouble that called for Max’s attention. The others were more open, but Max didn’t have as strong a link with them, and while David was supposed to be his prodigal son, he was so...secretive. Private. Closed off. For him to be willingly heading to the VideoMax store for anything other than annoying him or hitting on Maria out of boredom, something very important had to be going on, and Max was beyond itching to know what it could be.

“Who’s Max?” Vera asked, joining Paul to perch on the back of his bike.

“David’s sire,” Marko answered.

“A grouchy old bloodsucker,” Paul grinned.

“He runs the video store. He hates it when we crash.” Marko laughed.

“But...that cashier is pretty cute,” Paul said, thinking of Maria. “I’d love for a bite of—”

He was cut off by the breath leaving his body when Vera wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.

Marko hooted with laughter at his brother’s reaction and Dwayne let out a chuckle. Paul was absolutely speechless, and Vera wasn’t even making skin on skin contact with him.

Until she felt him tense, smirked against his back, and slid her hands under his mesh shirt.

If Paul could blush, he would have. He would have been a shade past tomato red. The feeling of her fingers running over his abs was all he could focus on for a moment, and all he wanted was to kiss her again, feel her again, maybe get a little tongue action...

“You’re supposed to behave yourself, Paul,” Marko taunted as he caught a whiff of the lust in the air and felt his brother’s excited thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul snarled. “I don’t need this shit from you.”

“I’m just repeating what David said,” Marko said defensively. “You’re the one who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little angel?” Paul shot back. “I’m the one with a goddess on his bike, might I remind you.”

Marko scoffed, lip raised in a nasty little snarl. “Not for long, Paul!”

Vera smiled as they bickered. Paul’s arousal hung in the air, but she didn’t mind; in fact, she liked it, and she hugged her arms around him tighter as he squabbled with Marko. She was eager to get back to wherever it was that they called home, and she was eager to sleep surrounded by them and feel truly safe for once. She was used to being alone, and she wasn’t scared of it, but she was always on edge, always ready to run or fight. It made her a light sleeper, and the concept of not having to worry was more tantalizing than any of these boys were on their own.

#goddamn shit sucking vampires #the lost boys #lost boys x reader #lost boys x oc #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys

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niseamstories · 4 years ago

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10 Lessons on Realistic Worldbuilding and Mapmaking I Learned Working With a Professional Cartographer and Geodesist

Hi, fellow writers and worldbuilders,

It’s been over a year since my post on realistic swordfighting, and I figured it’s time for another one. I’m guessing the topic is a little less “sexy”, but I’d find this useful as a writer, so here goes: 10 things I learned about realistic worldbuilding and mapmaking while writing my novel.

I’ve always been a sucker for pretty maps, so when I started on my novel, I hired an artist quite early to create a map for me. It was beautiful, but a few things always bothered me, even though I couldn’t put a finger on it. A year later, I met an old friend of mine, who currently does his Ph.D. in cartography and geodesy, the science of measuring the earth. When the conversation shifted to the novel, I showed him the map and asked for his opinion, and he (respectfully) pointed out that it has an awful lot of issues from a realism perspective.

First off, I’m aware that fiction is fiction, and it’s not always about realism; there are plenty of beautiful maps out there (and my old one was one of them) that are a bit fantastical and unrealistic, and that’s all right. Still, considering the lengths I went to ensure realism for other aspects of my worldbuilding, it felt weird to me to simply ignore these discrepancies. With a heavy heart, I scrapped the old map and started over, this time working in tandem with a professional artist, my cartographer friend, and a linguist. Six months later, I’m not only very happy with the new map, but I also learned a lot of things about geography and coherent worldbuilding, which made my universe a lot more realistic.

1) Realism Has an Effect: While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with creating an unrealistic world, realism does affect the plausibility of a world. Even if the vast majority of us probably know little about geography, our brains subconsciously notice discrepancies; we simply get this sense that something isn’t quite right, even if we don’t notice or can’t put our finger on it. In other words, if, for some miraculous reason, an evergreen forest borders on a desert in your novel, it will probably help immersion if you at least explain why this is, no matter how simple.

2) Climate Zones: According to my friend, a cardinal sin in fantasy maps are nonsensical climate zones. A single continent contains hot deserts, forests, and glaciers, and you can get through it all in a single day. This is particularly noticeable in video games, where this is often done to offer visual variety (Enderal, the game I wrote, is very guilty of this). If you aim for realism, run your worldbuilding by someone with a basic grasp of geography and geology, or at least try to match it to real-life examples.

3) Avoid Island Continent Worlds: Another issue that is quite common in fictional worlds is what I would call the “island continents”: a world that is made up of island-like continents surrounded by vast bodies of water. As lovely and romantic as the idea of those distant and secluded worlds may be, it’s deeply unrealistic. Unless your world was shaped by geological forces that differ substantially from Earth’s, it was probably at one point a single landmass that split up into fragmented landmasses separated by waters. Take a look at a proper map of our world: the vast majority of continents could theoretically be reached by foot and relatively manageable sea passages. If it weren’t so, countries such as Australia could have never been colonized – you can’t cross an entire ocean on a raft.

4) Logical City Placement: My novel is set in a Polynesian-inspired tropical archipelago; in the early drafts of the book and on my first map, Uunili, the nation’s capital, stretched along the entire western coast of the main island. This is absurd. Not only because this city would have been laughably big, but also because building a settlement along an unprotected coastline is the dumbest thing you could do considering it directly exposes it to storms, floods, and, in my case, monsoons. Unless there’s a logical reason to do otherwise, always place your coastal settlements in bays or fjords.

Naturally, this extends to city placement in general. If you want realism and coherence, don’t place a city in the middle of a godforsaken wasteland or a swamp just because it’s cool. There needs to be a reason. For example, the wasteland city could have started out as a mining town around a vast mineral deposit, and the swamp town might have a trading post along a vital trade route connecting two nations.

5) Realistic Settlement Sizes: As I’ve mentioned before, my capital Uunili originally extended across the entire western coast. Considering Uunili is roughly two thirds the size of Hawaii the old visuals would have made it twice the size of Mexico City. An easy way to avoid this is to draw the map using a scale and stick to it religiously. For my map, we decided to represent cities and townships with symbols alone.

6) Realistic Megacities: Uunili has a population of about 450,000 people. For a city in a Middle Ages-inspired era, this is humongous. While this isn’t an issue, per se (at its height, ancient Alexandria had a population of about 300,000), a city of that size creates its own set of challenges: you’ll need a complex sewage system (to minimize disease spreading like wildfire) and strong agriculture in the surrounding areas to keep the population fed. Also, only a small part of such a megacity would be enclosed within fantasy’s ever-so-present colossal city walls; the majority of citizens would probably concentrate in an enormous urban sprawl in the surrounding areas. To give you a pointer, with a population of about 50,000, Cologne was Germany’s biggest metropolis for most of the Middle Ages. I’ll say it again: it’s fine to disregard realism for coolness in this case, but at least taking these things into consideration will not only give your world more texture but might even provide you with some interesting plot points.

7) World Origin: This point can be summed up in a single question: why is your world the way it is? If your novel is set in an archipelago like mine is, are the islands of volcanic origin? Did they use to be a single landmass that got flooded with the years? Do the inhabitants of your country know about this? Were there any natural disasters to speak of? Yes, not all of this may be relevant to the story, and the story should take priority over lore, but just like with my previous point, it will make your world more immersive.

8) Maps: Think Purpose! Every map in history had a purpose. Before you start on your map, think about what yours might have been. Was it a map people actually used for navigation? If so, clarity should be paramount. This means little to no distracting ornamentation, a legible font, and a strict focus on relevant information. For example, a map used chiefly for military purposes would naturally highlight different information than a trade map. For my novel, we ultimately decided on a “show-off map” drawn for the Blue Island Coalition, a powerful political entity in the archipelago (depending on your world’s technology level, maps were actually scarce and valuable). Also, think about which technique your in-universe cartographer used to draw your in-universe map. Has copperplate engraving already been invented in your fictional universe? If not, your map shouldn’t use that aesthetic.

9) Maps: Less Is More. If a spot or an area on a map contains no relevant information, it can (and should) stay blank so that the reader’s attention naturally shifts to the critical information. Think of it this way: if your nav system tells you to follow a highway for 500 miles, that’s the information you’ll get, and not “in 100 meters, you’ll drive past a little petrol station on the left, and, oh, did I tell you about that accident that took place here ten years ago?” Traditional maps follow the same principle: if there’s a road leading a two day’s march through a desolate desert, a black line over a blank white ground is entirely sufficient to convey that information.

10) Settlement and Landmark Names: This point will be a bit of a tangent, but it’s still relevant. I worked with a linguist to create a fully functional language for my novel, and one of the things he criticized about my early drafts were the names of my cities. It’s embarrassing when I think about it now, but I really didn’t pay that much attention to how I named my cities; I wanted it to sound good, and that was it. Again: if realism is your goal, that’s a big mistake. Like Point 5, we went back to the drawing board and dove into the archipelago’s history and established naming conventions. In my novel, for example, the islands were inhabited by indigenes called the Makehu before the colonization four hundred years before the events of the story; as it’s usually the case, all settlements and islands had purely descriptive names back then. For example, the main island was called Uni e Li, which translates as “Mighty Hill,” a reference to the vast mountain ranges in the south and north; townships followed the same example (e.g., Tamakaha meaning “Coarse Sands”). When the colonizers arrived, they adopted the Makehu names and adapted them into their own language, changing the accented, long vowels to double vowels: Uni e Li became “Uunili,” Lehō e Āhe became “Lehowai.” Makehu townships kept their names; colonial cities got “English” monikers named after their geographical location, economic significance, or some other original story. Examples of this are Southport, a—you guessed it—port on the southernmost tip of Uunili, or Cale’s Hope, a settlement named after a businessman’s mining venture. It’s all details, and chances are that most readers won’t even pay attention, but I personally found that this added a lot of plausibility and immersion.

I could cover a lot more, but this post is already way too long, so I’ll leave it at that—if there’s enough interest, I’d be happy to make a part two. If not, well, maybe at least a couple of you got something useful out of this. If you’re looking for inspiration/references to show to your illustrator/cartographer, the David Rumsey archive is a treasure trove. Finally, for anyone who doesn’t know and might be interested, my novel is called Dreams of the Dying, and is a blends fantasy, mystery, and psychological horror set in the universe of Enderal, an indie RPG for which I wrote the story. It’s set in a Polynesian-inspired medieval world and has been described as Inception in a fantasy setting by reviewers.

Credit for the map belongs to Dominik Derow, who did the ornamentation, and my friend Fabian Müller, who created the map in QGIS and answered all my questions with divine patience. The linguist’s name is David Müller (no, they’re not related, and, yes, we Germans all have the same last names.)

#enderal #dreams of the dying #worldbuilding #resource #writeblr #writing tips #mapmaking #cartography #illustration #realism #writeblogging #novelwriting #writing research #research #writing

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dreadwulf · 3 years ago

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prompt #1: The Green Knight

(Warning: Major Character Death. Not the Major Character you think. Be warned.)

The Green Chapel stands still and silent when the Golden Knight arrives.

Once he had expected a fine cathedral to await him at the of his journey, but by now he is unsurprised to find a crumbled ruin overgrown with ivy. Only the stone walls remain of this “chapel”. The sunken paving stones admit dirt and weeds between them enough that it is barely distinguishable from the forest floor, and the roof is long since fallen in. Everywhere it is overgrown with thick green leaves and vines, and surrounded by a canopy of trees that opens only enough to admit a slice of night sky directly above.

Ser Jaime Lannister enters watchfully, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Green Knight is nearly invisible to him at first: concealed in greenery, grown into the landscape as though part of it. The bark of his skin is encrusted with moss, leaving no visible gap between himself and the plants around him. Judging from the growth, the Knight has not moved in a long, long while.

Has he stood exactly here for the entire year, waiting for him? It looks more like a statue, or a tree carving. Something long abandoned. Much longer than a single year.

“Ser Knight,” he announces, “I have arrived per our agreement.”

Silence.

There is only him here, and a tree that looks only a little like a man.

He is early, Ser Jaime realizes. Will be it dawn of the day, or the very hour of their meeting? He may be here for some time. It will be hours to dawn, and it had been another sundown after that when the Green Knight had ridden into Robert’s court on his enormous steed.

One year hence, the Knight had said. Well, at least he is not late.

The pre-dawn hours are quiet here, and the grove is peaceful. The trees overhead open out onto a pretty sprinkling of stars, and all the noise of the forest and the brook which has lead him here has faded away. He can see why the locals call this the Green Chapel. It is the sort of place that encourages one to pray, and to contemplate, at least if one is given to introspection and piety.

Which he is usually not.

The Golden Knight quickly grows restless. Waiting is not a skill of his. He is impatient by nature, impetuous and impulsive. Faced with delay he will rush things ahead, or abandon his course. Unless, as in this case, he has no choice but to wait, and then he will be overcome with unease.

He paces. His fingers twitch. His gaze darts around, landing on this and that.

There is no sign of movement from the Green Knight.

If he had not seen him walking and talking, he might assume this to be only a sculpture, and not a living being. He might wonder if he had been tricked, and if some unseen enemy hovered nearby laughing at his predicament. But he has seen the Green Knight up close, and ran him through with his own blade, and watched as the great gnarled hands pulled the greatsword from his own breast as casually as a thorn from his finger, and tossed the weapon aside as though it were a child’s plaything.

His hands curl around the same greatsword at his belt. He has carried it for a year, this sword. It was his prize for accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and ostensibly he is here to return it. When he does, the knight will return him the same blow, and stab him through the heart.

Was it worth it? What, after all, did he do with his fine sword?

Ser Jaime sighs and sits on the wet ground. He can grow no more muddy and disheveled than he is already. He left King’s Landing in his extravagant golden armor, wearing his lion’s helm, and riding the finest horse in his stable. But he arrives in the Green Chapel on foot, with no helm, dressed in shabby clothing and battered bits of armor. Even his golden hair is shorn, and only a thin growth of hair remains of his famous golden curls.

The only thing of value remaining to him is the sword. And to be quite honest, the Green Knight is welcome to it. If he could, he would exchange it for something much more valuable that he had found, and then lost, along the way.

It had taken many weeks to get him here. There were some diversions - misadventures, a strange episode in a Keep, and a good deal of wandering around lost - but he has come a very long way from Robert’s Court to find himself here. He had managed the journey only with the help of his squire.

The girl had joined him on the road on the very first day. She was part of the crowd that had followed him from the gates, those knight-hopefuls who so frequently followed his footsteps around the city. Most wanted some of his glory, hoped for it to spill onto them by mere proximity. Some wanted merely to see him meet his fate, others to be part of that tale if they could. But there was very little glory in this journey. They had been beset by bandits, wild animals, bad weather, and strange side-tracks from almost the very start

There had been six, even eight of them at a time, during the ride through the Westerlands, but as he traveled further and further from the capital and the weather worsened their number dwindled, and by the tenth night there was only her. Her name was Brienne. If she had another he has already forgotten it.

She was a strange girl, ungainly large, and dressed all in armor, in imitation of a knight. She had a face like rotten fruit, softly misshapen. Her straw-blonde hair, ruddy and pox-marked skin, and stubborn pout completed the picture. Her very presence proved subtly irritating. If a maid cannot be beautiful she might at least keep herself out of sight; or else be a servant, who are barely women to begin with.

His followers quickly decided to make a servant of her. This did not go well. Ser Jaime came upon her fighting three of the men on the third night. One of them had blood streaming from his nose already, another was sitting on the ground looking dazed from a blow to the head. The last was seemingly unfazed by the fate of the other two, and Ser Jaime observed him take a good punch to the chin that left him spitting out teeth. They were trying to steal her supper, she said. The girl should be cooking for us all, the men said.

“She is my squire”, Ser Jaime told them, deciding upon it at that very moment. “She will cook supper for only me.”

“Like hell I will,” the ungrateful wench spat at him.

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to be a knight or not? First you must be a squire.”

She did at that. She did wish it, very much. He can see it in her eyes -- striking blue eyes, with a determined gaze.

Brienne did cook his supper, the next night, over the campfire. Not very well, and he did not insist again. But she also tended his armor and sword, and that she did very well indeed. She handled his greatsword with tremendous respect and care, such that it touched him to see. He had long since stopped being impressed by the blade, after carrying it for a year.

Brienne proved a loyal squire, if not the most typical one. When wolves attacked she proved herself courageous, stood herself well in front of older and more experienced men. When there was work to be done she would be first to do it, and without being asked: gathering firewood, tending the horses. Drudgery she avoided, but practical, necessary things she performed without complaint.

She had very blue eyes. Sky eyes, clear and bright. He would have liked to look at them, except that she would be looking back, and that seemed to frighten her. She did not like to look him in the face. A shy maid, for all her armor and prickly temperament. He liked to tease her, and tell bawdy jokes with the other men until her face turned a pleasant pink.

A skirmish with the Brave Companions lost three of his would-be-knights and all of their horses,and it lead to their capture for a brief time. When they managed to escape, they were left traveling afoot, and without their supplies. His other followers drifted off then, losing their taste for adventure. Only the girl remained, and walked beside him along the road North uncomplaining through the long days ahead.

She was good with a blade, better than most. Not so good as Ser Jaime, who had a prodigious talent. But on the occasions he challenged her to spar with him, she got his blood up and roaring in a way he had not felt since he was a young man himself, and all his adventures before him.

She was kind. Too reserved to be gregarious, but generous in spirit. She took pity on every foundling, every poor farmer and milkmaid they encountered along the way. She wanted to help them, rescue them all; if he had not restrained her they would have been fighting for the honor of each individual cow from the Westerlands to the Neck. She was much disappointed that they hadn’t. What is a knight for, if not that?

She would learn, as he once had. The Knights of Robert’s Kingdom were more tarnished than a starry-eyed squire suspected. Heroes and legends in tales were only men in the flesh, and men with a bit of money and renown all went the same way. Given the best of everything they would indulge themselves, would grow greedy, would came to expect what had once been freely given. They fought not for gods and country but for glory, and mainly fought each other. They plundered wealth and women, sat by roaring fires, went slow, went soft, forgot hunger and killing cold.

Honor was a facade, nothing more. To become a knight was to learn it. It made him glad she would never be knighted, and fail that lesson.

“Entertain me, squire,” he said to her as they rode side-by-side, needling her. “I have heard all of the songs and stories of this land, and they bore me. Tell me a tale of yourself, Squire Brienne. What adventures set you on this course to become a knight?”

She bowed her head. “I have no tales to tell, my lord. It is only a wish, and an aspiration. But I have no adventures but the one we are on now. But you, my lord, are a famous knight, and must have many stories to tell. I would be honored to hear them from your own lips.”

Ser Jaime had hundreds of tales. He has boasted of his adventures to innumerable audiences as they looked on him admiringly, the great Golden Knight. Wins at tourney, duels with other knights, riding to war for King Robert. But for some reason, as he turned them over in his mind, he discarded each of his favorite stories one by one. He did not want to tell them now; those stories are not for her.

“I also have no tales to tell,” he said.

“Are you not on a quest, my lord?” She looked over at him quizzically, her blue eyes innocent. “I hear tell you are riding to the Green Chapel in the north…”

“I am, and to meet the Green Knight. But even I am not so bold as to tell that tale when I do not yet know its ending. But it sounds like you could, Squire Brienne.”

Again she frowned at him for that title. But she did know the bare outlines of the story, how the strange Green Knight had rode into King Robert’s court and invited the bravest and boldest of his knights to face him in battle, to strike a single blow and receive a blow in return, and for it they would gain his greatsword as a prize. How the Golden Knight had taken up the challenge, and in a blow of great talent and precision stabbed the Golden Knight through the heart, finding the weakest point in his armor on a single try. But instead of falling down dead, the Green Knight had easily pulled the blade from his own chest and mounted his horse. He told the Golden Knight to meet him in one year at the Green Chapel, where he would return his blow.

“And I see you do not hesitate to keep your word,” Brienne concluded the tale. “You are as bold and brave as all the stories say. But what will you do when you get there?”

“Fight him, I suppose.” Ser Jaime’s hand tensed around the ruby-encrusted pommel of his borrowed sword.

“Ser?” She blinked back at him in confusion.

“What, you expected I would meekly bow my head and be murdered? Of course not.” Ser Jaime’s shoulders shook. “Twas not a fair bargain, when he has such dark magic that he can take a sword through the heart and survive. I have no such magic, and it isn’t a fair exchange.”

“But you did not have to strike a deathblow. By the bounds of the agreement you might have only scratched him, and taken only a scratch in return.”

Well, yes. In hindsight, that would have been wiser. If he had taken the time to think it over, he might have put that together. But by nature he rarely takes that time.

“He was a large and fearsome Knight, and I thought only to prevent the return blow. Of course if I had known he would survive it I would have acted differently. I know it now. And when I see the Knight this time I will fight him with everything I have, and he will fight me with everything He has, and we will see who is the victor.”

“But you made a promise…” She sounded faintly disappointed, and it irritated him greatly.

“It was a trick, girl. A trick to snare a knight by his honor. Would you have me die for a trick? What good will that serve? No, I will keep my appointment as promised, but he will have to work to land his blow against me. I’ll have my skill and my wit to defend me, as he had his magic.”

“Are you not afraid, Ser?”

“Afraid to fight? Never. It will be a fine duel, perhaps the finest of my life, and I am eager for it. It will be the battle that will make my legend, the kind that songs are sung of, and I look forward to that.”

Brienne said that she hoped to see it, and let the matter lie.

She did not see it, of course. They came to the Crossroads instead.

An inn stood at the crossroads, and cast-offs from the Riverlands sheltered there. Orphans and strays. Jaime and Brienne arrived only long enough to see a great many helpless faces before bandits came riding, meaning to plunder the kitchens, and carry off the women and children.

Jaime told the girls to run away as best they could, and aimed to do the same. If they were quick about it, the raiders couldn’t catch them all.

Brienne, on the other hand, meant to defend them. They would not survive alone in the forest, she said, and if the bandits took away the food, the little ones would starve.

“Better the bandits take them then, one or the other,” he said quickly, tugging at her. “But we had best retreat. We will not manage another fight in our condition, and not without more men.”

This was entirely reasonable, to him; better knights than he had often advised the same. There was no glory in failure, and certainly none in a pointless death in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Brienne grew taller under his grasp, and would not be moved. “What good is a knight if he will not defend the innocent?”

“You stupid girl.” He holds her by the shoulders. “There is nothing you and I alone can do against so many men, no matter how skilled you are with a blade. They will surround us and cut us down -- it won’t even buy any time for your orphans. The best we can do is live to fight another day.”

“Someone must do something,” she says stubbornly. “I will not run.”

“Not to no avail! A battle is bravery, but this is suicide. It’s foolish, meaningless. It will make no difference whether you intervene or not - either way the women are taken and the children are killed. You will only add another body.”

“Someone must fight for them,” she insists. “Even if there is no hope. I am not enough, but if there is no one else, then it will be me.”

With that, she had shoved him in the larder, with a sudden and ferocious strength, and barred the door.

“Let me free, you stupid child!” He slammed his weight into the door sharply with his shoulder, enraged.

He could hear her through the door, her voice steady and clear.

“Someone must fight for them. If there is no one else, then it will be me.”

“Damn you,” he swore at her. “Open the door and I will fight with you. Two against a dozen is better odds than one. Open the door!”

“You have an appointment to keep,” she said, and then there was silence.

Jaime could not see what happened after that, but he could hear it. He could hear the disdainful laughter of the brighands, and the drawing of many blades. He could hear for a time the blades clashing, and much shouting, and one unfamiliar cry of pain, and for a brief moment he was hopeful that she might prevail. She was a talented swordfighter. If they fought her one at a time he had no doubt she could best them.

He could tell, even without seeing, that they did not. The fight turned, became a slaughter. He heard a single cry that he knew in his gut was Brienne, taking a blow she would not survive. There came more noise then, more steel and blows, and then the screams of the women and children being dragged from the Inn.

He screamed too. He wept, and clutched at his useless greatsword in a rage, wanting to throw himself through the door and impale himself on them like an arrow, these animals who would dare to touch a true knight. None of them seemed to hear him, or proved interested in the larder.

He didn’t know how long he had been left sitting there on the floor, with tears on his face and the earthy smell of raw meat weighting him down in the cool darkness. He waited for one of them, any of them, to remember him in the kitchens and come back, but no one did, and that was how he knew that no one remained. He wondered if he would be left there to rot. To moulder away with the bits of cheese and bread that remained there until he was nought but bones and a borrowed sword.

Eventually, quietly, a small boy with enormous eyes unbarred the door, having emerged from his hidey-hole only hours after the vicious intruders had left. Seeing Jaime huddled in the dark, he fled again and hid himself away in the Inn.

Jaime emerged into the twilight reluctantly. When he looked down the road, he imagined he could see them. The prisoners being taken away in the back of some wagon, women and children and women who were really children still, huddled together and weeping, down the long road and away. It was all for nothing, all of this. The brigands had taken them anyway.

There was no glory in this defeat. There was only a bloodstreaked trench in the mud where a terrible battle occurred, and in the middle of it a sad heap of metal. She was unrecognizable there, cut to pieces. Only a few strands of pale blonde hair remained to know her by.

The blacksmith’s armory had implements enough to break the cold ground. He dug a hole right beside the crossroads while the rain bucketed down on him. His chest hurt from the strangled sob caught in it. He put her in the hole and blanketed her again with the mud. If there had been flowers anywhere in that season in all the land he would have found them and laid them there above her grave. One day, he hoped, grass would grow.

It was a meaningless gesture, and made no difference to the blue-eyed girl. But it meant something to Jaime.

It was not meaningless to them, the shivering children and the sad-faced women riding away in the wagons. They had looked back, mournfully, at the place in the road where her body lay. Looked back down the long road, into the distance, through the rain and the trees and the tramping feet of the bandits’ horses and out of sight, and they kept looking. They would look back long after the rain and wind had wiped away any traces of what had happened there. They would not forget. When the enemy came for them, someone took up a blade in their cause. Someone thought they mattered. Someone thought they were worth dying for. They did not face their fate alone.

When evil comes, so long as at least one person stands against it, there is still some light left in the world.

He left the shovel there in the road and went back to the Inn. It took some time to locate the boy and persuade him to come out of the trunk where he had hidden himself. He carried the boy with him North to the next village, where he left him wordlessly at the Sept, and turned North again, alone.

The rain never stops now. The ground is crusted with snow and the air is wet and mossy and somehow the rains never wash anything away. It only soaks into the dirt and grime and ice and blood and weighs it down. Makes it heavier. Makes everything impossibly heavy.

There are more strange things that happen to him then: how the road curves and wanders beneath his feet and doubles him back to the start as though trying to throw him off his course. There were strange dreams, and visions, and he walks in a sort of fever. Nothing seems quite real after the Crossroads, nothing except the sword in his hand and his goal: the Green Chapel. He has an appointment to keep.

He grows only more determined to reach his destination.

The nights grow colder. He wakes up shivering, rolling over, trying to wake the embers of the fire, and every time his eyes open they are looking for the foolish girl in her armor. They find only blackness and he remembers then the crossroads and the hole he dug besides the road.

He missed her terribly.

He misses her still, sitting here before the Green Knight. It is a persistent ache, a weight that grows heavier by the day. It makes him feel ancient to contemplate. He sounds like one of the rusty old knights who cluster around Robert, lamenting the roads not taken, the women they might have settled down with. Lost loves. It has been only days and yet it seems like years ago, and a road already overgrown and impassable. He can see it already, the enormity of his mistake. His life might have become something entirely different, improbably better. The opportunity came to him, and he wasted it.

Brienne. The Maiden Knight. She could have been his lady love and his brother-at-arms all at once. Would anything have been so perfectly suited to him as that? He will never find her like again, and even if he did he would not want it; he will only want her, for the rest of his life.

Jaime muses over these memories through the hours. The journey, the past, the world around him. Time seems to settle into a hazy blur.

The sun rises slowly, impossibly slowly. He cannot see it past the trees, but the world gradually brightens, with gentle insistence. The greens grow ever more lush and verdant all around him. The wall where the Green Knight stands turns from grim grey to a lively grass color, the dark ivy wound around in loops that seem to form an altar of deep mossy overgrowth around the still and sleeping form of the Knight.

His hands worry at the hilt of the greatsword that he had come to return. He might leave the blade on the altar and go. Would that fulfill his word?

What did Jaime do with his famous sword, during the year he had it? Only held it aloft for others to see. Used it to threaten, and to cajole. Boasted of it to other lords. But the only time he had just cause to draw it he had chosen to retreat instead, and in doing lost the only thing of any value he had ever found.

If only he had gone with her. Agreed right at the first, without hesitation. If he had stood at her side it might have ended differently. One had no chance, but two, perhaps, might have survived. He might have taken her with him to the Green Chapel. He might have taken her home to the King. He might have seen her made a knight, and stood proudly beside her at the king’s table. The tales he might have made with her, he would be proud to tell.

The Knight’s form comes into clearer and clearer relief: looming over him, impossibly tall, improbably wide.

Jaime knows with cold certainty that the Knight is going to wake very soon. As the light grows stronger, the Green Chapel is waking around him with a thousand tiny movements. He can almost make out the subtle sound of leaves uncurling to the sun, and worms crawling in the earth.

The sword, Oathkeeper, quivers in his hands, as though outraged. How did he dare to carry that blade to this place intending to lie? To break his promise? More and more he thinks he did not. He came here for something else entirely.

Jaime finds, for the first time that he can remember, his hands are trembling. It is one thing to go to battle, but another entirely to go to an execution. His heart beats in his ears with a deep drumbeat of doom... doom... doom...

He’s not here to fight a duel, is he? What, then, is he here for?

Glory? Judgement? Mercy? Absolution?

Or only the cold, mechanical means of his inevitable end?

Was all this journey only for that? Is he truly here only to get a blade through his chest? And if so, might it be worth his while? After all, is there any better way for a knight to die? Will it not be a fitting end to his legend?

But he isn’t ready to die. Not willingly. Not without redeeming his honor, making something of himself. If he had another year… but would he do any more with that than he had the last? Than he has with all of the years thus far? Is there any amount of time that would make any more of himself than he has already?

The time he needed was these weeks on the road with Brienne. That showed him what kind of man he’d like to be. But he failed her when it mattered most. Perhaps he should be judged for that. Not a year from now, nor twenty. Today.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and paints the Green Chapel gold. The air warms, and birdsong calls to him on the breeze. The day is relentlessly pleasant, with a promise of endless more such days to follow. A bittersweet longing fills him. It has never seemed half so lovely to be alive as it does in this beautiful place. If only he could have brought her here.

I will be brave, he says to himself. Like Brienne.

All at once there is a great creaking sound of wood bending and tearing, and when Jaime looks up the green altar is moving. Green leaves tremble and wave purposefully, and twigs and small branches snap and fall away to rest in the dirt below. The trunk of the altar pulls itself free, excavates itself from the enclosure in the leaves and branches. Limbs pull free, and something nearly human rises out of the green, the bark of its skin glistening, newborn.

The Green Knight is standing.

Jaime looks up, and up, and up, from where he sits on the mossy floor of the green chapel, and his hand grips the hilt of his sword.

He is ready to fight, by instinct, and to flee, by sudden impulse. He is afraid, he realizes, afraid in a way he has never been before. There is more than a blow to the heart to fear here. There is the fate of his soul, which is suddenly entirely in question. Before his journey he had no doubt of his own worth as a knight, and now he is just as certain in the opposite direction. Is he worthy? He is not. He is not.

Slowly, he stands. The sun shines down on him through the same corridor in the trees where he had watched the stars the night previous, and its warmth is a rebuke; why should the sun shine upon one such as him? He is the golden knight no more. He is only a man, a man with a sword that does not belong to him.

His eyes raise last of all.

Jaime finds through the golden light the Green Knight’s face. The eyes first, through a thin bloom of leaves and moss, and then the nose, the jawline. He has never seen it so clearly before, not even when he had stabbed her through the heart. With slow realization his eyes travel down and up again, taking in the shape of his host, and her nature.

The Green Knight is a woman? Why didn’t he realize it before?

It seems only too clear now. The slight narrowing of the waist and wrists, and in the face… not a pretty face, but undeniably feminine. Full lips, round cheeks, and the eyes...

Blue eyes. Beautiful blue, sad blue, noble and sorry. The lost blue of long-forgotten clear skies.

When he sees them his hands stop shaking. All is well. His grand sword slips from his fingers and settles softly in the grass, sinks gently into the ground, is welcomed.

“It’s you,” he says. “I’m glad it’s you.”

The girl from the Crossroads is standing before him.

He doesn’t understand how it is possible. Was she always the Knight? Was all an illusion? Was the Knight in disguise when he met her, or was the Knight once that girl? But it doesn’t matter. Whoever she is, she is here now, and it is good and right that this happen to him.

Her voice is low and rusty, like a hinge that has not moved in many years, and slow in its opening.

“You... kept... our appointment,” the Knight creaks.

His mouth is gone dry. “One year hence. You gave me time enough. And so I am here.”

He thinks he sees her smile, faintly. With the crackling sound of breaking branches, the Knight gestures to his feet.

“You... dropped your sword... my Lord.” Ser Jaime glances down at Oathkeeper, already disappearing beneath the twining vines on the forest floor. “Is it not time... for our blades to cross? A duel to make your legend?”

“I made you a promise,” he says faintly, and puts a hand over his unguarded heart. “It seems my word is all I have, and if it means nothing to anyone else, it means something to me.”

She smiles. An oaken hand reaches out and touches him on the face, gently. “My brave knight.”

Her eyes are the bluest skies he has ever seen. He is not afraid. Not anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asks him, still stroking his cheek.

“Yes.” He is eager for it now. “Strike your blow.”

“Straight through the heart,” she agrees. Then she reaches out with her other hand to touch the other side of his face.

She kisses him.

#dreadwulf fic #jaime lannister #braime

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

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Humans are weird: Insurgency Part 1

Planet: Sepher III Status: Conquered Industrial Capacity: Limited - Reconstruction in progress Agriculture Capacity: Limited - Reconstruction in progress Orbital Capacity: 5 orbital platforms - 2 require minor repair, 1 requires extensive repair and overhaul Population: 753,682 Humans 35,321 Mentas 125,873 Menta Colonists enroute. Military: 0 Human 175,946 Menta Soldiers 2,653 Naval Personnel 3 Moltak Destroyers Leadership: Military Governor Galvin Zecks Sub Commander Cobal Oft ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +1 To: High Council of Menta From: Military Governor Galvin Zecks To my honored leaders I bid you well, I wish to once more thank you for your confirmation of my stewardship of our latest conquest from the humans. Already I have put to work the remaining population of humans that did not flee at rebuilding this planet and preparing it for the coming colonists. Within a few months of their arrival I will have turned this war torn world into the lynch pin for our future conquests in neighboring sectors.

I have just seen off the remaining military forces which left to continue the campaign. I have no doubt their victories will resound through the hallowed halls of the seven suns for ages to come.

May the eyes of the seven watchers gaze upon your deeds. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +1 To: Military Governor Galvin Zecks From: Cobal Oft

Per your instructions the remaining humans in the surrounding area have been put to work rebuilding the capital and space port.

Our initial strikes on both locations was deep and the damage is extensive. It will be some time before they are operational again.

In the mean time I have had our ground forces establish their base around the capital building. They have begun work on fortifications along with several barracks and depot buildings have already been constructed.

From here we have been able to launch extensive patrols around the surrounding area.

I have also dispatched several dozen garrison forces to occupy other cities and smaller towns. Once the capital is secure we can go about setting up additional garrisons. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +66 To: Cobal Oft From: Military Governor Galvin Zecks The first batch of colonists should be arriving within the next few days.

Finally we can get this dirt ball feeling like a proper Menta world. It will be refreshing to see the streets filled with our people instead of these dirty human rabbles.

To that end I want you to establish exclusion zones around the start port and capital. Expel all humans within and remove them to the outer quarters of the city. The use of lethal force is prohibited at this time for such implementation, much to my displeasure. We can not have our new colonists thinking this world is savage and unhospitable and if word gets out of executions or deaths among the human work force it could reflect badly and dissuade others from coming.

If such methods are required in certain cases make sure that they are properly contained.

After the humans have been relocated establish checkpoints at each of the entrances to the star port and capital. No human is to be allowed in unless with proper authorization. papers. It's time to remind the humans of their new place on Sepher III. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Year 2743 Formal Occupation +153 To: Military Governor Galvin Zecks From: Cobal Oft

Security of capital has been officially handed over to the Sepher police force. They're a bunch of green jackribs if you ask me but at this point there's no need for military units to be acting like this is a live combat theater.

In the mean time I am dispersing the remaining forces to the regional capitals now that they're finished. All twelve should have substantial reinforcements to support local enforcement which has become a problem since humans fled major cities to minor towns.

Speaking of troop deployments, I heard a rumor that we are about to lose a majority of our standing occupation forces. Can you confirm? If this is true then it might shake up our redeployment considerably. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +153 To: Cobal Oft From: Military Governor Galvin Zecks You heard correctly, but in the future I would encourage you to dissuade yourself from gossip. The war with the humans is taking a larger toll than first projected. Reinforcements are being called up from all of Menta space and shipped to Vergo Prime and since Sepher III has been classified as pacified the military leadership has decided such a large force is no longer required.

We can expect transport ships to be in system within the next few days to collect roughly a third of our ground forces. Have the finest soldiers ready on the landing pad before then. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +247 To: Cobal Oft From: Military Governor Galvin Zecks I am hearing disturbing reports from one of our mining camps at Golden Peaks. Some sort of violence against one of our guards by a human prisoner.

This came at a rather embarrassing time as I was meeting with several industrialists from the home world about their expansion to our world.

I was able to downplay the event as nothing serious but I want it under control now.

Dispatch several squads and make some examples of the human laborers there. Then go have a word with the mines foreman and express my displeasure with his lack of control.

Be enthusiastic when it comes to telling him how disappointed I am. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +262 To: Cobal Oft From: Military Governor Galvin Zecks I feel my previous message may have been unclear in what I wanted done with the mining base at Golden Peaks.

To be clear, I wanted the soldiers to publicly execute one or two human agitators and then beat several dozen more including the foreman.

What I did not want to happen was the destruction of the entire mining operation!

My office is still getting reports of damages and loss of life after the explosives went off.

Consider yourself fortunate that the industrialists had already left or I would have your head on a platter.

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

Year 2743 Formal Occupation +263 To: Military Governor Galvin Zecks From: Cobal Oft

I have had my men combing the area and we believe we have pieced together what happened.

Several squads arrived just as you requested two days prior and began the process of making examples.

The day before the explosion one of the soldiers executed a human female from the camp and displayed her body at the main mine entrance as a warning.

Later that night a series of explosives went off destroying not only the mining facility but the stationed squads as well.

We believe the humans were able to get their hands on some of the mining charges and wired them to detonate.

Officially I have been stating that the incident was a result of human negligence with improper storage of explosives and the cover story is working. The only problem is the final body count does not add up. It's true because of the blast several more bodies may be buried in the mines, but security footage shows several dozen human workers fleeing the mine before the explosion went off.

I have three teams combing through the surrounding area searching for them.

They will be recaptured and made an example of.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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emilyplaysotome · 4 years ago

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The Queen Makes Her Choice: Part 6

This is the final chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. This might be the filthiest thing I've ever written 😂

This whole series is for those 18+ only.

Catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Miracle finder makes it impossible to see anyone, and even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter.

Gavin is on a mission, Victor is on a trip, Kiro is on tour, and Lucien…

…well, Lucien isn’t replying, or posting, or commenting.

No surprise there.

I have no idea if he’ll show on Saturday even though the rest of them will be there. I’ve booked us a private room in one of Loveland’s hottest “sky clubs” - a lounge located at the top of a high rise with nothing but large glass windows and views for days to accompany the drinks and people.

It was a splurge on my salary, but I have to do this right.

If I do this right well...

...maybe there's hope of keeping them all by my side.

There’s still no reply from Lucien as I get ready an hour before everyone is supposed to meet. I decide to tell him that I need him there, and let that be the end of it.

I don’t have much in my closet for this event, but buried in the back I find an old clubbing outfit from my birthday two years ago. The top is an iridescent blueish-purple with spaghetti straps, a revealing back, and cropped to show my midriff. I pair it with a flowy dark skirt that balances out its sex appeal, tying my hair back, and putting on a simple necklace to show off my neckline.

I feel pretty and knowing that I’m about to meet four (well, hopefully four) men who have all confessed to me, I feel confident that they will too.

—

I arrive early and finish my drink too quickly in the hopes of calming my nerves. The waitstaff gets me another and I tell myself to cool it for fear of getting too drunk before they all arrive.

The room I’ve reserved is bigger than I expected, with seating that could easily accommodate 25 people. There are standing cocktail tables and ink blue couches that have a soft, velvet fabric accompanied by tables for drinks.

I’ve settled into the center of one of the couches and I’m distracting myself on my phone, hoping that my nerves will fade when I hear the door open.

I’m surprised that its Lucien who I see first.

“I didn’t think you were coming?!” I say.

He kisses me before sitting next to me, looking around the room.

“I wasn’t sure if I would.”

“But why?”

He sighs and shakes his head, smiling.

“Too much thinking. Too much worrying.”

I have more questions, but I won’t get to ask them as Victor enters next. Upon seeing Lucien I can see his defenses go up. He puffs out his chest, tilts up his chin sneering at him, making no attempt to hide what can only be described as a very sour expression.

I get up and stand between them, gently taking Victor’s hand and guiding him to sit beside me on the couch. Sandwiched between him and Lucien, I thank him for coming. The mood only grows more tense with each addition.

Gavin is next.

Kiro is last.

It’s clear that they all thought I had planned something for them and them alone based on the disappointment I see on their faces when they register their competition in the room. Once they’re all assembled, Lucien and Victor on either side of me, Gavin pouting with his arms crossed and standing by one of the cocktail tables and Kiro who paces like a wild animal in a cage, I begin.

“I know you’re all eager to understand what this is about,” I say. “And I first want to thank you all for being in my life.”

There are gruff acknowledgments all around, but no real words or statements from anyone. I can tell by the way they’re drinking and refilling their glasses that they’re just as nervous as I am, and not wanting to drag things out I continue.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want in my partner, and I keep coming back to daily life. Waking up next to someone I love each morning, making breakfast, hearing about their day…”

It’s then I look at each of them, one by one.

“…and I’ve come to the conclusion that none of you can do that for me.”

“Now wait a minute,” Gavin starts to say and I cut him off.

“You’re always gone on some mission for God knows how long.”

I turn to look at Lucien, “You disappear on me at the drop of a hat…”

Then Victor, “…you spend 50% of your time doing business outside of Loveland City….”

And finally Kiro, “…and you’re on tour for the foreseeable future.”

They all seem bashful because they know I’m right.

They all know they couldn’t be 'the one' unless they all made major concessions for me.

“So I think for now, until things change, I will commit to none of you and all of you.”

There’s shock from Gavin.

Laughter from Victor.

Annoyance from Kiro.

Anger from Lucien.

Gavin quickly spits out “That’s…” but Victor cuts him off.

“Only fair. None of us can really run to her side when she needs us, but between the four of us we can take care of her.”

I’m stunned that he actually agrees, not just understands.

I thought that out of the four he might be the most difficult to convince, but suddenly I’m watching as he argues with Kiro about what it means to love me. Lucien is silent, along with Gavin. They listen as they wrestle with what they already know about our world to their ability to accept being a part time boyfriend.

There’s silence when Victor reminds them aloud of the danger I face.

Being with me is not just being there for the good times, though I’m grateful that lately there’s been many. This time of peace may disappear just as easily as it arrived and they all know it, even if they don't want to admit it.

I’m surprised when Gavin is the second to agree to keeping things as they are, with the caveat that I not think about anyone but him when we’re together. I find myself feeling shy and can feel the heat creep into my cheeks as I nod back at him, knowing that his request is easily fulfilled.

Satisfied by my reply he smirks before making it known that he doesn’t want to discuss things further and will invite me on a date soon, leaving me with the others.

I can tell that Kiro is close to compromising, but Lucien beats him to the punch.

“Alright,” he says with that smile of his. “This just gives you more time to decide that you love me most.”

The comment makes Kiro look as if he’s going to rip Lucien’s head off, and he charges towards him. Victor puts his hand out and holds Kiro back, reminding him that this is not about how they feel about each other but how they feel about me.

Lucien quietly laughs and whispers in my ear, “I will try sticking around in the future in order to prove to you that I’m all you need, if that’s truly what you’re looking for.”

“It is,” I say.

I’m not lying, but for now I’m relieved to have found a loophole.

I’m relieved that it seems I will not have to choose after all.

“While I don’t like the idea of leaving you with these two, I must be off to a prior commitment. I only meant to stop by because you were insistent. And because I will always be there for you, despite what you may think.”

He’s being mysterious but I can tell whenever we’re together he can’t help but be pulled back to me as much as he tries to run away.

I can tell that he looks for excuses to be with me, even when he's busy.

“Thank you Lucien,” I say and mean it.

I’m grateful that I don’t have to say goodbye, especially to him.

I’m surprised when he kisses me, deeply, in front of the others and I can feel that his eyes are on them as he does it, almost as if he’s challenging them.

When he pulls away I watch as Victor rolls his eyes as Kiro grows incensed again. Lucien pretends not to care and leaves, ignoring the string of obscenities that flows out of Kiro.

“Enough,” Victor eventually says, sighing and returning to the couch next to me.

“I understand why we’re doing what we’re doing,” Kiro says, still standing. “But doesn’t it bother you seeing that?”

“No,” Victor says coolly. “It only motivates me to please her more.”

I feel his hand wrap around my midriff and he kisses me, passionately, in front of Kiro. I let out a surprised moan and after a moment he pulls away with a smirk.

“See?”

I’m embarrassed and I quietly scold him for kissing me like that in front of Kiro. Not to be outdone, Kiro comes over and kisses me too. I can taste the cocktail on him and the wine on Victor and between the alcohol and their touch I realize that I feel a bit light headed.

As Kiro kisses me, I feel Victor’s hand travel under my skirt and up my thigh. He starts rubbing me and I moan, prompting Kiro to deepen his kiss, moving his hands from my face to my neck and then chest. When he pulls away, Victor capitalizes on the opportunity and kisses my neck as he slides one of his fingers into me.

I can tell they’re both more intoxicated than they’d ever admit, and to be honest, so am I.

Sober me would have stopped this but drunk me is flying high on everything that is happening. It feels too good to worry about the waitstaff walking through that door, and I close my eyes knowing that Kiro is watching Victor play with me, eagerly awaiting his turn.

He’s impatient though, and my top comes off leaving me fully exposed to both the men and the city beyond the large glass windows. I feel myself reaching for both of them, to make them feel as good as they’re making me feel and I feel Victor’s other hand unbutton his pants.

What happens next is a bit of a blur.

It’s almost as if I come back to myself, stripped bare and breathing heavily on a couch that isn’t mine and in a lounge where anyone could have walked in at any moment. I see the two men next to me, panting and satisfied on either side, tucking their shirts back in as they return to a disheveled version of the men that appeared earlier in the night.

I will pretend that I don’t remember bouncing on top of Victor as I sucked on Kiro. I will pretend that I won’t remember finishing both of them on my knees, with my hands and my mouth before letting Victor finish me with his mouth while Kiro watches on, all the while stimulating my other sensitive spots.

I will pretend I don’t remember Victor playing with time to drag out my pleasure when it finally comes, and that I do not giggle when Kiro whines, “Oh come on, that’s just cheating…”

When the waitstaff finally do enter, we are all fully clothed and in the process of sobering up with cold glasses of water. I worry that the room reeks of sex and that they know what happened, but it would appear that they are none the wiser.

Victor grabs the tab that I was supposed to pick up and pays for everything, leaving just as much in tip before saying to us, “Let’s get out of here.”

On the street we are silent - the cold air sobering us to the reality that lies beyond.

“Do you mind if I take her home?” Victor asks Kiro politely, and I’m surprised when Kiro shakes his head.

“I have to catch an early flight for our next leg of the tour.”

“You’ll keep in touch, right?” I ask, almost scared that the greediness of my actions will catch up with me, but Kiro just smiles his bright, pop star smile.

“Of course Miss Chips. Until we meet again.”

He kisses me sweetly, and neither he nor Victor seem to care that the other is present for this moment.

He leaves and Victor takes my hand, slowly walking me back home.

We’re silent for a few blocks before he starts chuckling out of seemingly nowhere.

“What?!” I demand.

“You continue to surprise me.”

I look at him, puzzled as to what he’s talking about and he continues.

“I’ll have to come up with a new contract to ensure I get at least one fourth of your time.”

He’s teasing me, but I know him well enough to know that he’s actually impressed at how I’ve managed to get what I want despite how things are usually done. He’s known from the start that I haven’t wanted to say goodbye.

That I’m not ready to.

There’s kindness in what he’s saying, and it’s not lost on me. As much as I know he wants me for himself, he won’t rush me.

He loves me too much to do that.

They all do.

The topic changes quite naturally and before I know it we’re chatting as if our salacious night never happened. He’s mocking me for being a glutton and I’m pretending to be outraged that he’d call me such.

I invite him in because I’m back faster than I expected and to my disappointment, he refuses me.

“LFG calls,” he says, and I can tell he’s disappointed too.

“Ok. Thanks for walking me home.”

He smiles and kisses me and just as I turn to open the door to my building and head inside, he grabs my arm.

“But now that I know what you want, soon enough you won’t have this excuse to keep the others around…”

He lets go and turns on his heel, not glancing back and walking away with the kind of confidence and swagger I know only he posses. My heart races as I watch him turn the corner and out of my sight before turning in.

—

I shower the night off of me and change into cozy pajamas, crawling into bed. I have four messages, one from each of them, all wishing me good night and reminding me that this is for now.

“One day work won't consume my life,” Victor repeats.

“One day I will prove to you that I can stay,” Lucien says.

“One day my mission will be complete,” Gavin promises.

“One day it will only be us,” Kiro muses.

One day.

But until that day, I will savor having all them in my life.

And I will love them all as much as they love me, for as long as I’m allowed.

This was fun to write and *very* out of my comfort zone. As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, commenting to say that you enjoyed it/what you liked, or buying me a coffee!

While this is most likely the last installment of this short series, if you like my writing I hope you'll follow me for more in the future.

tagging:

tagging

@hifftn

@ho-lee-snow-balls

@redheadkitty11

@superllamaathleteshoe

@mamafishfound

@clilee

@uniunikilla

@x-klamstrakur

@itsannaslife13

@exosexosekai

@galaxystarrr

@minvirsa

@xxnxcxlx

@thirsty-for-mlqc-bois

@the-rlyn

@crystalrainwish

@kazuyaasai-serenaspencerli

@nad-zeta

@crystalcrystalcrystal

@britishatheartamerican

@goldenrosefae

@caitvoyancy

#mr love #mr love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mr love gavin #mr love kiro #mr love victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut

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loopy777 · 4 years ago

Note

RE: WIPs game: Actress Mai. what is she acting in? besides her ongoing starring role as Repressed Perfect Child?

Ah, "Actress Mai." This is a headcanon I keep chipping away at in the hopes that I'll eventually have something I want to publish. I have a whole host of little ideas and scene concepts, but only one actual WIP.

It started with the idea that Zuko and Ursa are theater snobs. Sure, Ursa apparently attended Ember Island Player performances, which Zuko disdained, but my thought is that she took what she could get in terms of live theater with her family even if she agreed with his criticisms. However, I like to headcanon that Mai loves the Ember Island Players, hates classical theater, and generally is the type of person who thinks that Michael Bay movies are great and more people should just turn off their brains and allow themselves to be entertained.

Why?

Well, because character conflict is what makes stories interesting. Zuko gritting his teeth through Mai's praise of how the EIPs finally made "Love Amongst the Dragons" interesting? Gold! Ursa and Mai getting into heated drunken arguments about theater styles? Gold! Mai convincing Kiyi of the good points of the controversial 'Love Amongst the Dragons II: Love Harder' (which is canon to at least two of my Maiko fics) while Zuko and Ursa grit their teeth? Solid gold!

This fun little conflict turned into something more, though. If Ursa and Mai are dark mirrors of each other in terms of theater tastes, then it felt like Mai needed a little acting history to parallel Ursa's own. But Ursa could be a publicly known actress because she was a peasant; such a profession was okay for her. Mai is a noble, though, and an acting job would be seen as beneath her, especially as a woman, as Polite Fire Society knows (or thinks it knows) that 'actress' is really just a polite term for prostitute. This is a takeoff from some real-life history stuff that I first learned of through Sherlock Holmes stories. Apparently, Irene Adler being an 'opera singer' was a thing British readers would recognize as being of a sordid nature.

So I decided that Mai did some secret, illicit acting anonymously during her childhood and teenage years. She stumbled across an opportunity, gave it a try, and found it fulfilling despite the social stigma. She liked being able to project emotions of all kinds in public, while at the same time shielded by masks or makeup or costumes or whatever. She liked being other people, people who find love with their heroes or die tragically to teach everyone a point or villainously ruin everything around them as a force of vengeful nature. It was the only opportunity for expression that she had, as well as a quiet form of rebellion. So for years she snuck out of the capital, down to Harbor City, and acted in all kinds of plays for a troupe that accepted not paying her as a fair trade for keeping her anonymous.

Naturally, moving to Omashu put a crimp on that, and so it ended.

So the idea is that Ursa eventually learns this about Mai after years of their butting heads over theater opinions, sees the parallels and perpendiculars in their lives, and grudgingly comes to respect Mai's completely wrong opinions about theater as at least being informed. And Mai, who is good at acting and does know the classics and would be wasted in the Ember Island Players, helps Ursa out with some plays she writes (still anonymous, although Zuko and Ursa know) even though Mai privately thinks the dialogue is too stilted and the stories kind of cliched.

But I have had trouble beating all of this into a proper story. I want to do flashbacks to Mai on stage, I want to show her conflict with Ursa, I want to reveal how Ty Lee found out and used that to get Mai to accept running away to the circus, I want Zuko's reaction to finding that his wife can recite soliloquies from all the major classics, I want Kiyi becoming an Ember Island Players groupie, etc. It's just missing a plot to hang it all on.

So here's a snippet of one of my attempts to construct something:

Noren grimaced. "Honestly, I was impressed we got enough people to fill out all the parts, never mind understudies. This play-"

"-is important," Ursa finished for him.

He hesitated just a moment before nodding. "And it's important for the same reasons that it was tough to get actors. I'm sure once Zuko sees it and can give it his official approval-"

"But he can't see anything without a Rinzen." Ursa thought about her son out there in the audience, anonymous amidst the 'peasants' of Hira'a. Zuko didn't mind mixing with his people, despite being their Lord, but the only reason he was here, tonight, was because Ursa herself had written the play, and he was a good son who would always support his mother.

Zuko had even brought his friends, including the Avatar. Aang was a delightful young man, and always very nice to Ursa, but she couldn't help but feel trepidation at his presence. After all, Avatar Roku, Ursa's grandfather and Aang's previous life, was a major character in this play, and while the story was based on real events, it was Ursa's hand that had shaped his dialogue and actions. She was putting her thoughts and philosophies, her very heart, out on the stage for public assessment, and this was tricky material. Would it do right by history?

Plus the lead actress was sick, and going by her complaints and the smell of the privy, perhaps dying.

Ursa had to tell herself that her audience, her friends and family and neighbors, wouldn't enjoy this play becoming a disaster. None of them were that bad. This wasn't the Capital. And she wasn't a princess. Not anymore.

So why had she taken it on herself to write this play, to positively dramatize a story of an ancestor who a few years ago was considered a heretic and traitor, to will into being a performance right here in the Fire Nation of a play that featured a heroic Air Nomad character whose actress was currently trapped in the privy?

Because her nation had hurt the world, and she wouldn't leave it to her son alone to do all the work of helping to fix that. That's why.

"Maybe," she ventured, "I could play the part."

Noren frowned. "You? But you're playing the Lady of Glass, and the characters share several scenes."

But Ursa was already analyzing the copy of the script that existed in her mind. "Rinzen has a lot more lines than the glass spirit, and I'm the only one who knows them. And playing a spirit is a lot easier than playing an Air Nomad. A spirit is just a voice, a costume, and some special effects. An Air Nomad character is a performance, and we're fresh out of actresses."

Noren's head tilted from side to side. "We could ask Kiyi. She knows the play by heart. She's a bit young for the part, yes, but-"

"No," Ursa cut him off. "She'd say yes if we asked her, but she hates being on stage. I'm not going to do that to her. I'd rather call off the play and see if our Rinzen is feeling better tomorrow."

Noren blanched at the very thought and made a gesture of good luck. "Well, maybe we can find a new Lady of Glass. And adjust the Rinzen costume. So are you thinking we'll just go on stage and ask the crowd who wants to join the cast, or maybe-"

And then there was a shift behind Noren, the red curtain over the office's doorway being pulled aside to reveal a living shadow. It seemed to Ursa that a chill had entered the room.

Lady Mai, Intended to Fire Lord Zuko, had arrived.

Ursa stiffened as Mai stepped into the office and let the curtain fall back into place. Time and familiarity had not made it any easier to be in a room with her son's lover. She had no real doubts about Mai, no resentment over the early difficulties Zuko that had apparently been overcome, but it was hard to reconcile Azula's shy and dour childhood companion with what existed now. Mai walked around covered with knives, watching everything; she never spoke unless there was an explicit need, but her gaze was always focused and her eyes missed nothing.

And it was in Mai's kind of silent, watchful abyss that Judgement grew. Ursa did not have a good feeling about how Mai likely judged her. How could a child of the Fire Nation's capital, someone who had become strong alongside Azula, a world-class warrior whose last stand for the life of her lover was already the subject of at least one popular poem, have any empathy for Ursa's life or the mistakes she had made?

Mai looked at her with dull eyes. "Is everything okay? The crowd is getting restless, and Zuko was worried. I told him I'd check on things so that he wouldn't miss the beginning of the play."

Ursa hesitated against that flat, low voice, and Noren stepped in to answer, "Our lead actress is sick. Ursa and I were just discussing options. There- uh, there aren't a lot of them."

Mai might as well have been told that dinner was planned to include green sprouts, but they were all out and so the yellow ones would be substituted. "Which part?"

Ursa swallowed. "The Air Nomad girl, Rinzen."

Mai quirked an eyebrow. "The heroine." She was still and silent for a long moment, and then sighed. "Zuko's really been looking forward to this. I guess I can help out. All right, I'll be your Rinzen."

Ursa wasn't quite sure she had heard that right. "You- you want to take the part? But-" Her voice faltered, as all the possible objections swirled through her mind. Mai was, to put it simply, completely lacking in charisma and non-threatening presence. She spoke without emotion. She moved so efficiently that no one in the back of the audience would even notice her. And she was so disinterested in everything that she'd probably nod off in the middle of the performance.

Noren offered a troubled smile. "Thank you for the offer, but acting is harder than it looks. It's not just about going on stage and reciting lines. An actress needs-"

"It's Nomad part, right?" Mai shrugged. "So we want a high, bright voice. Circular gestures. A bounce in all the movements. Here, like this." She stretched out her arms, shook her head, and then-

-and then-

-and then Mai was no longer there. The woman in red and black looked like her, but there was a wide mischievous smile on her face, and her eyes were big and bright. She stepped towards Ursa- no, they weren't mere steps. She kicked her heels high with each one, and the way she shifted her weight flirted with almost being a dance. She held her arms up at her side as she moved, and then when she reached Ursa, swung them dramatically to bring her hands together into a sign of respect.

She bowed, and in a voice that positively rang and filled the room, said, "Are you not the Firebender Avatar, Roku? What a fortunate wind blows to lay my path upon your own!" She rose again, and trotted in a circle around Ursa. "I say, you are taller than I expected, and must be quite heavy. Are you sure you're keeping up with your Airbending, young Avatar?" She raised a hand and held it out to the side.

Noren recovered before Ursa did, realizing what was going on, and quickly found a rag and placed in the waiting hand.

Mai's eyes never left Ursa the whole time, and as soon as the rag was in her grip, she moved again, taking a stance that had clearly been modeled on Avatar Aang's own style, and held the rag out in front of her, dangling it from her fingers and bouncing it in the air.

Mai gave a laugh that was echoed through the little room. "Your beard flutters in my breeze! Come, young Avatar, let's have a spar!"

There was a beat, and Ursa was tempted to deliver Roku's next line in response, but then all at once the younger woman slumped, letting the grandness leak out of her limbs. When she straightened, Mai was back, standing like a blade made of shadow, her face blank and her eyes dull.

Ursa blinked. What had she just witnessed? So many questions swirled in her mind, and she decided to ask the most important of them: "You know all the lines?"

#avatar mai #mai #ursa #avatar ursa

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czarojay · 4 years ago

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//This is gonna be a long, probably not properly formatted post, but i just couldn’t help but gush about and ramble about this. Also prepare for a wall of text why everyone is the traitor /hj//

I just have so many thoughts on what happened yesterday. Like all the foreshadowings and plotholes and plotlines have been set in motion, completed or filled. And it makes my little writer soul happy, you know?

It was obvious Techno and Wilbur would be the traitors, since Wilbur multiple times said so himself and Techno literally murdered Tubbo in cold blood. Maybe not so much cold blood cause “hE WAS PEER PRESSURED” and stressed af, but you get the point.

We knew Philza would join Dream SMP pretty much, since Wilbur showed him the script on stream recently. Also like Traitor Philza anyone? How many posts have you seen of the ultimate traitor being Philza? I have seen lots, but in the end weren’t like half the people traitors? Niki betrayed Pogtopia subtly by leaving and building another city, but i guess this depends on your point of view and opinion, since in the final battle she did fight for Pogtopia. Wilbur was the traitor (everyone knows that) by blowing up Manburg, when it all seemed to go right. Techno was the traitor to Pogtopia, but was also betrayed by Pogtopia. Techno was here to abolish government not make another, but at the first time, he knew what he was getting into. Tommy spoke about taking back L’Manburg for two months, since the election, so I do not know why the surprise. While I agree with Techno that they were just terrorists, because Schlatt was elected, voted, not a tyrant in full meaning of that word (this is so complicated, i love this). Eret was the traitor to Dream for a change, because he wanted to help and join Pogtopia, but was also betrayed by Dream, who had supposedly no way of knowing Eret was going to betray them, he just took the crown and plopped it down on our cottagecore lesbian George, who either sleeps or builds cute houses.

Also Philza being the one to slay Wilbur is just amazing, because there are so many possibilities motives. Philza said he couldn’t kill Wilbur, but he looked on the people of Manburg, L’Manburg, Pogtopia and Dream SMP, Badlands, he looked at all the people gathered here, staring up at him and he said he couldn’t kill his son. Wilbur said he was the one who destroyed L’Manburg, His L’manburg and ordered Philza to murder him. And he did. But why?

Did Philza kill Wilbur, because he knew, that even with Schlatt gone, Wilbur would continue to cause wars and battles and death and pain? Did Philza kill Wilbur, because he knew that Tommy looks up to Wilbur and wouldn’t be able to not let himself be manipulated? Did Philza kill Wilbur, because he thought nothing else could stop him from becoming a monster? Did Philza kill Wilbur, his son, because he couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to help his son, while one is traumatised, staring at them from where he miraculously survived the explosion and the other one was betrayed, but also a traitor and he just needed to do something? Did Philza kill Wilbur, because he looked at the blown up land and he heard his son begging for death and he at that moment was the only person who could make a change?

Hell if i know, there are too many posssibilities, but what i DO know is that i’m going to meet theories and conspiracies across my tumblr dash for weeks and I will be able to read all your amazing essays and I just can’t wait for it you know?

Chekhov’s gun. We knew L’Manburg would blow up. It would make no sense for it to not blow up after a month of it being the major plot device, one of the few things to keep it going. It needed to happen or otherwise the plot wouldn’t make sense. If this was a book and not minecraft roleplay, I bet everyone would be angry that the Wilbur character didn’t blow up as he said he would through half of the third book of the series! Sure there would be people happy that he didn’t, but let’s all be honest here, all the AUs would feature him blowing it up, it was really the only way for there not to be a massive plothole.

Tubbo becoming a president wasn’t that to be expected before the stream, but during the conversation with Quackity it was hinted towards. We all thought it would be Tommy who’d been hinted towards in the “You’re never going to be a president, Tommy” speech of Wilbur. And to be fair, he was a president for like 1.2 seconds, before he went back to get his discs which as exasperated leave me, because come on you’ve been at these discs for like almost HALF A YEAR WOW, make me happy cause it means more plot to come, chekhov’s gun right? I’m not sure if this applies here though, since they’ve already been used. We’ll wait and see right? Tubbo became a president like he was supposed to become. We all expected him to become the vice president, since Tommy always titled him his right hand man and the parallels were too strong. From Secretary of State through Schlatt’s right hand man through a traitor to end as the President of L’Manburg. Or New L’Manburg should I say?

And it’s even worse when you think about how Wilbur appointed Tommy KNOWING L’Manburg would blow up in a moment. He wanted to give him everything he could ever want and then steal it away the next second, violently, not leaving a shred of hope for it to return. Because, you see, with the discs? Tommy always could fight for them, steal them, get them back. Physical small objects, but worth so much. But L’Manburg? Tommy just got it back, his second home, his people, his place and Wilbur planned to immediately rip it away violently. Tommy would rage, he’d curse, he’d plan revenge. Which is exactly the reason Tubbo is the better choice to be a president.

Tubbo doesn’t hold grudges, so unless he’s manipulated, not many wars will be initiated by him. He was one of the people who tried to fight the wither, he was the one who immediately jumped to gathering people and making plans for the future of their country. He was the one who made plans to rebuild their nation stronger and better. He jumped to making and building and communicating rather than fighting, which seems to me like something a good leader would do.

Wilbur as the president barely did things, mostly used pretty words or fought. Only later in Pogtopia he actually did most of the stuff in their ravine, but he still left grinding and food for Techno and in the end he went insane and no good leader should be an insane one. Schlatt? Schlatt wanted to chop down the trees, kill the animals and destroy the nature. He may have been a better, closer and an actually elected leader compared to Wilbur, but that doesn’t mean he was a good leader. So it is possible Tubbo will be the best leader yet.

But will he even be able to be truly a leader? Tubbo said himself he’s not sure how the whole president thing goes and he agreed to just call it a friend group, so they’re not demolished by Technoblade again, so he’s never going to be truly a leader, especially since Philza joined and everyone looks up to Philza. They’re not going to have a leader, because Techno will kill anyone who even hints towards it and Dream would probably do that as well. Or so he says, but then he made Dream SMP a kingdom, a proper kingdom with a true king. Because let’s agree, Eret was never a leader before. He was just there, sitting pretty in his forest. There was no true kingdom before, just a group of people who decided to play along for the sake of the spy. But even then, it seems pretty hypocrytical of Dream, doesn’t it? He says down with the government, with organized nations, presidents and leaders and yet...

King George has happened. But at what cost, I would say sadly and possibly crying if I didn’t expect it to happen. It was bound to happen since the very first WHITE FLAGS, TOMORROW, OR YOU’RE DEAD. He’s earned no right to the title, he didn’t participate in this war, he hardly does anything on the server. He’s just an heir. Dream forcefully removed the last monarch, so George could become the king and I feel this is going to be a big thing in future, since it wasn’t that focused on during the last streams. I think so at least? We’ll see.

There’s just so many things to cover here, possibilities are WILD, the lore is just SO HEAVY and I am Thriving, capital T. But isn’t the whole fandom? We’re all loving it here, right? And I want to write even more, but at the same time, I’ve already got 1.5 k words and I’m afraid nobody will read it if i continue, SO HAVE A GOOD DAY IF YOU READ SO FAR. SUBSCRIBE TO PHILZA.

#dream smp #Philza #Ph1lza #Technoblade #Tommyinnit #Tubbo #Tommy #Wilbur Soo #Wilbur Soot #Jschlatt #Dream #Georgenotfound #Quackity #mcyt #16th november #november 16 #101 talks #ideas and analysis

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lyranova · 4 years ago

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A Fractured Diamond

Episode 6: Star Festival

——

Hi guys~! So I know I said i was taking a break and I did! I really love this chapter so much guys you have no idea 🥺! I hope you all like it too and I’m sorry it’s not very canon compliant! Also this is my longest chapter I’m so proud 😭!

Word Count: 3,129

Warnings: Language

It had been a week since they had gone to the dungeon, or was it a few days? Neva couldn't remember at this point. All the days seemed to blur together. The day after they had gotten back they were sent to visit the Wizard King, Julius Novachrono, and she had to admit he wasn’t what she was expecting. He was a total magic nerd, it was quite amusing. But she couldn’t shake the feeling she had met him before, many years ago, she had pushed that thought away when she figured it was because she had seen him walk through the Capital on occasion. Then the Capital was attacked by the undead and she ran into someone she really didn’t want to see ever again.

Neva sighed as she created more spiked Diamond pillars to pierce the undead with, she had been quite proud of herself at that, she didn’t want to use any of her close range weapons and didn’t have many long range spells, so this was quite the achievement. She was only able to make the spikes come through the ground but hey, she’d take anything at this point. Neva had created a dome around some civilians she was protecting but she knew it wouldn’t hold much longer and the dead just. kept. coming.

“ Why couldn’t all of you have just stayed dead?!” She shouted when suddenly, she saw at least half of the undead be sliced through with spacial magic. ‘No. No way, why is he here?!’ Neva thought with dread, she looked up to her right and saw the one person she disliked the most. Langris Vaude. Vice-Captain of the Golden Dawn. He was smirking down at her as usual, and all she could do was glare up at him.

“ Need a hand?” He asked before using another spell to get rid of the rest of the undead. Neva huffed before snapping her fingers to get rid of the Diamond Shell.

“ Here, this way should be safe now. If you all keep going this way, you should find some more magic knights that can help you escape.” Neva instructed, the people quickly thanked her before going into the direction she described. Langris floated down to her and walked over to her, his smug smirk on his face, she instantly rolled her eyes.

“ So, I heard the teacher's pet is in the dog house.” He commented, Neva glared at him and crossed her arms.

“ I heard you were in Kiten, looks like we were both wrong.” She snapped, causing Langris to scoff and place a hand on his hip.

“ Uh-huh, sure. Anyway, I also heard you explored your first dungeon. Congratulations.” Langris told her, she narrowed her eyes, knowing there was more. “ and you got your ass kicked by someone with the same magic as you, that’s gotta sting.” He added, there it was, Neva thought with a shake of her head.

“ Don’t you have more important places to be right now, Vice Captain?” Neva snapped as she began to walk past him, Langris grabbed her upper arm to stop her.

“ I do. But I thought I’d come and say hello to the teacher’s pet first, since y’know, the Captain gives you all sorts of special treatment.” Langris looked at her. “ You might want to be careful about how you stalk Captain Vangeance, before people begin to talk.” He added before letting her go and walking away.

Neva shook her head to clear away the memory that had been a horrible day. The Captain of the Crimson Lion Kings was found with his arm torn off, bleeding, and unresponsive. From what she had heard he was still alive, which was good, but it had made her angry that Captain Vangeance hadn’t been there to help. She stopped training for a moment as the memory popped into her head, unwanted.

Neva was beyond angry, she was livid. The Captain was supposed to be there, was supposed to help protect the city, but instead he left on ‘urgent business’, which she noticed he was doing a lot of recently. She walked into his office, not bothering to knock, and slammed her hands onto his desk.

“ What the hell Captain?! Where were you today!” She shouted. Vangeance looked at her calmly before leaning back in his seat.

“ As I told the Wizard King and everyone else; I was away on urgent business-.” He started before she cut him off.

“ Liar! You left us high and dry! What business was so urgent that you needed to leave us at that moment?!” She shouted again, she noticed a flash of annoyance in her Captains eyes before he leaned forward.

“ You’d best remember who you are speaking to, Neva. Unless you want to be reported for insubordination. Again.” He warned, she blushed and moved her hands off his desk and crossed them.

“ Apologies, Captain. But you’re always gone, and it’s always when something major happens.” She finished softly, she noticed a shift in his eyes, like his mood suddenly changed, it even felt like the mana had changed.

“ Are you accusing me of something Neva?” He asked in a dangerously low tone, Neva felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a chill run down her spine, her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her palms began to sweat; she was terrified of the person in front of her. This wasn’t her Captain. This wasn’t the person she had known most of her life. This was someone else entirely. She swallowed the lump in her now dry throat before attempting to speak.

“ N-No sir I…” she paused, that’s exactly what she was doing, or at least, what it sounded like she was doing. “ I’m just worried about you Captain.” She added softly as she looked away, all the anger being replaced with defeat.

“ There’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise.” He told her softly before going back to his paperwork. “ Now if you don’t mind, I have some work I need to finish.” He added, effectively ending the conversation. Neva nodded before turning around and walking away.

“ Oh one more thing; it’d be wise if you stopped stalking me whenever I am in the base. Rumors are being circulated and people are starting to get the wrong idea, and I’d like for all of it to be squashed before it reaches other squads' ears.” He told her, Neva only nodded and closed the door behind her.

“ Dammit!” She shouted as she accidently sent a sharp diamond blade soaring through the air, effectively cutting off a tree limb. Neva leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees, sweat was almost pouring off her in buckets at this point. She was so angry and so frustrated this was the only way she could think of to get rid of it. If she had stopped and looked to her left, she would have noticed three people watching her from afar.

“ S-Should we get her to stop? She’s going to be completely drained at this point.” Mimosa asked with uncertainty, she, Yuno, and Klaus had been watching her for the past hour. She had been trying to either work on her armor spell, or long range offensive spells. Klaus shrugged.

“ I’m not sure, I mean, we might accidentally get caught in the crossfire.” He said, uncertain himself. He looked over as Yuno sighed next to him.

“ I’ll go over there then.” He stated in his usual monotone voice. He even had to admit, he was worried about her, he only knew her for a few months but in those months he felt like he knew what kind of person she was and this was not her.

“ Wait a second; let her get a few more spells done then you can talk to her.” Mimosa whispered, as though Neva could hear them, and she looked over at Klaus. “ By the way, what’s the deal with her and Langris? From what I heard, they were at each other's throats during the invasion.” Yuno looked over at Klaus as well, he was very curious about it too even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“ Well, Langris used to be Neva’s mentor-.” Klaus started before Mimosa gasped in shock and even Yuno looked surprised.

“ Seriously?! The Vice Captain was Neva’s mentor!” Klaus nodded.

“ Yes but please don’t interrupt. He was her mentor for two weeks before the Captain decided it would be best if they no longer worked together, from what I remember, they almost killed each other.” Klaus stated before turning back to watch Neva. She seemed to be all tired out. “ I think you can go talk to her now.” He added, Yuno nodded before walking over to her.

Neva was trying to catch her breath when she heard footsteps approach, she looked over and saw it was Yuno. She smirked.

“ Are we being sent on a mission?” She panted, she hadn’t realized how out of breath she actually was until she stood up straight, she looked over at him and saw him shake his head.

“ No. I was just wanting to make sure you were ok.” Yuno told her honestly, she shrugged a bit.

“ I’m fine. No need to worry.” She muttered, clearly, Yuno wasn’t buying it as he pointed to the tree that was missing a limb.

“ I think that tree would disagree with you.” Neva looked and was very thankful her pale face was already red from training.

“ Yeah, that spell got away from me.” She admitted before looking at him. “ Are you going to the star festival tonight?” She asked, changing the subject.

“ Yeah, and so are you.” Yuno told her, not missing that she was trying to change the subject. He watched her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“ Who says I am? You’re not the boss of me!” Neva argued as she crossed her arms. Yuno nodded before turning around.

“ I know. But I think it’d be good for you. All of us don’t get to hang out outside of missions very much, besides, if I’m being forced to go against my will so are you.” He told her before walking away, the first part about them all hanging out was what Mimosa told him to say, whereas the end was what he wanted to tell her. Plus, Yuno wanted to get to know Neva better, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone that.

“ Who does he think he is? Telling me what to do.” Neva grumbled as she followed behind him, if she wanted to go then she would, if she didn’t then she’d stay home. ‘Buuut,’ that little voice in her head started. ‘It gives you the chance to get to know him better!’ The little voice whispered, Neva smirked to herself, she was finally agreeing with the stupid voice for once!

——

Neva couldn’t stop grumbling that night. After her talk with Yuno she left and took a bath, cleaned up, and was ready to go by the time the others were. She had to admit, the Star Festival was one of her favorite things about the city; good food, good music, games, it was pretty nice. The only thing she didn’t like was the stares people gave them because of their Golden Dawn robes. It made her uncomfortable. Some of the looks these noble people gave them just irritated her, it was like they were looking at them as their own private security or something. She huffed a bit.

“ Something wrong?” Yuno asked as he turned to her, she shook her head, Mimosa and Klaus had wandered off some time ago so now it was just the two of them and it made her very nervous. Even if she didn’t show it.

“ No, it’s just the stares. I don’t like them.” She muttered, Yuno tilted his head a bit before shrugging.

“ Ignore them. They’re not worth your time and energy.” He told her bluntly, she looked at him in surprise before a small smirk appeared on her face.

“ Easy for you to say, you’re amazing with your magic and everyone knows it, you even have a four leaf grimoire. So they don’t give you the same looks as me and the others.” She muttered, Yuno looked at her with a confused look.

“ You’re amazing with your magic too. You should really stop putting yourself down so much, you’re one of the few people that actually has an armor spell. Something like that takes time, hard work, and dedication. You know your magic inside and out, you know what it’s made of, how it works, and what your limits are. Not everyone can say that.” Yuno stopped in his tracks as he spoke. Neva couldn’t stop the small blush from appearing on her face, she wasn’t very used to receiving compliments from anyone other than the Captain so it was a little surprising.

“ Please stop trying to make me feel better. It’s not going to work.” She muttered, looking away from him. Yuno stepped closer to her and had the most serious look on his face.

“ I’m not. I’m just being honest.” He told her deadpan, Neva couldn’t help but let out a small laugh before she looked up at him, well, she looked around him. Something caught her eye and her face instantly lit up.

“ Ooh a desert stall!” She almost squealed as she quickly ran around him and to the stall, Yuno blinked in surprise. ‘What the hell?’ He turned on his heel and noticed where she had gone, giving reason to her sudden change in demeanor, he scoffed before following her over and standing next to her. He looked over the deserts and had to admit, they all looked very tempting, he wished he had just a little money left over to buy him and Neva something from it, but he gave all his pay to the orphanage in Hage village, they needed it more than he did.

Yuno then looked over at Neva and his eyes widened slightly; her face was lit up more than he had ever seen it, a smile he had only seen once before was currently gracing her delicate features, he noticed the way her eyes scanned all the deserts as though she couldn’t make up her mind on what she wanted. His smirk turned in a warm smile, he liked this look on her, it made her look like a completely different person. ‘Hm, I wonder if this is how she normally is, not how she tries to portray herself as.’ He wondered to himself, if this was her true personality shining through, he wanted to see more of it.

“ Hey Yuno, can I ask you something?” Neva asked softly, her head suddenly bowed down to hide her face. When he nodded she continued. “ Are there rumors circulating about me and the Captain?” She asked, catching him by surprise. Yuno rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“ Yea. There are.” He confirmed softly, Neva’s head lowered even more and she bit her lip. “Mimosa told me she doesn’t know where or who started it, but they’re trying to say you have a crush on the Captain and that you’re in love with him.” He added, Neva shook her head.

“ None of that is true. It’s actually pretty gross people think that, I don’t even remotely think of the Captain that way. He’s a mentor, a trusted ally, someone I can count on to have my back. Nothing more.” She told him seriously before raising her head and looking at Yuno. All the warmth and happiness from just a moment ago were completely gone, and in its place was a cold and harshness, she had reverted back to her ‘normal’ self, the one everyone saw. Yuno noticed he was a little disappointed, but he didn’t dwell on it much as they were suddenly pulled away by Mimosa and Klaus, saying the Stars were about to be handed out.

——-

Neva was suddenly bored as the Clover King began speaking, she honestly couldn’t understand why he was needed, he didn’t really do anything for the kingdom did he? She didn’t think so. But she watched as the Wizard King and King Kira began to have a small discussion and it was slightly amusing how everyone preferred Julius Novachrono to the Clover King. She watched as the stars were handed out, she didn’t recognize the new Captain of the Crimson Lions until Mimosa explained to her that she was Captain Fuegoleons sister Mereoleona, even from a distance Neva knew she did not want to mess with that woman. She seemed to be very powerful.

Neva couldn’t stop the smirk from appearing on her face as Yuno and Belle began to show off to the nobles, after the nobles tried to rag on him and Asta for being commoners that is. Even though Neva thought Belle was a little annoying, she had to admit she was a very powerful spirit. Neva could hear all the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from the crowd and it made her very happy. Until she heard a few feet behind her.

“ He’s very cute isn’t he?” One woman giggled.

“ Who? The blonde one?” Another asked, they were speaking in hushed voices as though trying not to draw attention to themselves.

“ No the dark haired one! He’s so cute and powerful, he even has a four leaf grimoire!” The first one giggled again, Neva glanced over her shoulder and noticed the two girls looked around her age or maybe a little older.

“ Hehe maybe you should try and ask him out when he gets off stage!” The other suggested causing Neva to straighten and clench her jaw, these girls were getting on her nerves.

‘Ooh is somebody jealous?’ That little voice teased causing Neva to blush and shake her head, nope, nu-uh, no way was she jealous! She wasn’t going to be like Belle and think Yuno was hers and nobody else’s! She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t!

Suddenly Neva’s ears picked up a few key words that quickly grabbed her attention; Midnight Sun, Royal Magic Knights, and an exam to enter. She smirked a bit, this was payback for the invasion on the Capital, it also sounded like fun and it was a way for her to prove to herself and to others that she was one of the strongest in her squad.

Neva was definitely signing up!

——-

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter I love it so much 🥺! If you don’t I apologize and I will try and do better next time, anyway thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#a fractured diamond #oc neva #black clover fanfiction #black clover oc #episode 6

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

Text

I Refuse to be a Named Character Pt 6

Hey Everyone I’m back! New job has definitely kicked my butt, but I’m kicking back! I’m going to try to write more and maybe post smaller updates in the meantime! So probably another part or two to finish off this tale!

Master post linked here!

Enjoy!

________________________________

“The others are fighting for all the advantages they can get prior to the first party tonight.”

The masked servant knelt on the cold floor without any sign of discomfort, reporting in a dispassionate tone. His master sat on the windowsill, staring out into the gardens, a single finger tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass.

“How many keys do my brothers control?” Luke’s voice was cold, as if he didn’t care much about the answer that every nobleman in the city would give all their possessions to know.

“None. Prince Graham’s mother has bought over some relations of the third, fifth and eighth Lords, and Prince Fetter has been blackmailing every servant in the city, but the Ten Lords themselves have not given their loyalties to any prince.“

“Holding out for the highest price?” Luke sneered, his eyes searching the gardens as he spoke. “I can’t imagine those greedy old men having any notions of loyalty or fairness.”

The servant bowed his head silently.

“So it will actually depend on the three parties? My father should be pleased that his final test will be carried out so well.”

“… Your Highness?” The servant hesitated a long moment before finally speaking up. “Why are you participating in this ridiculous trial? It’s a complete farce! With your forces…”

“It is none of your concern.” The chill in his voice seemed to freeze the air between them.

“…Very well, Your Highness.”

“She still sees something worthwhile in me.” He muttered quietly. “I won’t betray that.” His eyes caught a glimpse of a figure walking along one of the garden’s pathways through the glass, and his gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s end it here.”

“…” The masked servant didn’t move, staying in his kneeling position. Although his expression couldn’t be seen, his discomfort could be felt as he fidgeted in place. As the silence dragged on, Luke reluctantly looked away from the person in the gardens, turning towards the masked man with a frown.

“What is it? Something important?”

“I’m… not sure.” The man’s brows knitted together. “It’s a little… unusual more than anything.”

Luke waved a hand. “Well? Go ahead.”

“There’s been a… movement? A religion?” He shook his head. “Perhaps ‘cult’ would best describe it… spreading amongst the servants and craftsman in the capital.”

“I see.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “And why is this my concern?”

“Well, partly because the majority of your servants have taken part… but also because of its source.” The servant looked away from the prince’s gaze, uncomfortable. “You see… it’s a peculiar belief system, that states that by casting off one’s name and identity, one can avoid the deadly trouble and world and live a happy life.”

“…” Staring at the kneeling man for a few stunned moments, Luke couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. “How many have joined this cult?”

“Well… it began with just a handful among the areas she lived in… but it seems to have spread like a wildfire.”

“Of course.” A grinned tugged at the prince’s lips. “She can’t help but draw you in.”

“Your Highness…”

“Leave it be, unless you judge there’s any danger to her.” He turned back to the window, a finger tracing over the glass outlining the person in question. “Go make sure all my forces stand ready in case something goes wrong.”

“Yes, Milord.” With a brief nod, the masked man quietly exited, leaving Luke alone.

“I’ll play by the rules while I can, but I won’t let you get hurt.”

He whispered a name, so quietly even he could barely hear it.

________________________________

“So you’re saying that in our story, all important characters are doomed to die bloody, violent deaths?” The servant girl stared up at me with an awed expression, making me slightly uncomfortable.

“All except the main hero and main villain, yes.” I nodded my head slowly.

“And that’s why you don’t have a name?” The young man next to her smiled with understanding.

I hesitated at his expression, but finally answered slowly. “Yes. I’m just an unimportant, nameless side character. Fading into the background.”

“A nameless side character.” The small group of servants repeated reverently after me, their eyes bright and excited.

“…”

Something’s… off. When I had originally been asked by one of the servant’s in Luke’s quarters why I didn’t have a name, I hadn’t thought much of it. Without mentioning the “transported into a book world” bit, I had explained my theory that all important characters died terribly.

It had apparently struck a nerve.

Ever since that day, that servant had been bringing small groups to talk to me, sometimes up to several times a day. They all seemed eager to listen, despite my increasingly wary replies. Even stranger, I had noticed that the servants in the household no longer called each other by name.

What is going on?

“There you are!” A pleasant voice called out, interrupting my uncomfortable musings.

“Luke!” I turned with a smile, waving goodbye to the group I had been talking to earlier.

“He has a name…”

“Fool! His Highness is a main character!”

I thought I heard some muttering behind me, but right then Luke reached out, grabbing my hand and distracting me.

“Having fun starting a new religion?”

“Pardon?” I cocked my head to the side, confused. He stared at me for a few moments before laughing, the delighted sound making me grin back .

“Never mind, as long as you’re happy.” He squeezed my hand gently. “Ready for the party tonight?”

“I’m going?” The thought made me nervous. It would be the final trial, so all the princes would be there. Fetter… Graham… I swallowed uncomfortably. I hadn’t seen Graham or his mother since our last run in, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Who else would be willing to stand by my side?”

“And you… you’re participating?” I couldn’t help but ask; feeling confused. In the book his character hadn’t taken part in the parties at all, simply attacking the city at the night of the third party instead and trying to take the throne by force. It had been a vicious, bloody attack, every horrifying detail described. It was the final straw that made me unable to finish the fourth book Chloe had lent me.

Now I wished I had finished it despite how awful it was to read. I don’t even know what happened to Luke after the attack on Western City. Was he successful? Had he gotten hurt? Anxiety pierced my chest at the thought. He was so different from his character in Deadly Crown, but I wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt him.

How much have I changed the story?

Luke pulled me over to sit next to him on one of the benches in the garden. “It’s true, I don’t have the strongest political skills… that’s Fetter. And I don’t have a large base of support… that’s Graham. It seems like a hopeless cause.” Despite his depressing words however, he was smiling brightly at me.

“Then why are you so happy?”

“Because you’re by my side.” He chuckled. “Winning isn’t important. We just need to stay alive, and then once they no longer see me as a threat, you and I can go live a life of obscurity in the woods together.” He paused, thinking it over. “Or the desert, if you like, since Blade has named you her successor.”

I shook my head, ignoring the outlandish statement at the end to focus on the point of his words. “So you don’t want the crown?” My tone held some disbelief as I studied his eyes. If he truly never wanted the throne, he could have abdicated at the very start.

Luke didn’t look away, meeting my gaze head on. “I did once.” He admitted it openly, his smile sad. “But it was never for me. It was for my mother.”

“Your mother.” That surprised me. The book had never mentioned her.

“She was from the desert. She and Blade grew up together, but while Blade is a fierce warrior… my mother was the opposite.” He stared down at the ground, a bitter expression taking over his face. “She was kind, loving… far too trusting to be a woman in the Royal Court.”

I pulled his hand into my lap, holding it between my two hands. It was cold, despite the warmer temperature in the garden around us.

“She loved the king, despite his faults, his many women… his cold nature.” Luke’s eyes closed slowly, hiding the pain I could see in his eyes. “The man cares for no one but himself, but she gave her heart to him. She always hoped that he and I would get along, but I was only ever a disappointment to His Majesty.” He laughed softly, but it was not a happy sound.

“How…?” The question I wanted to ask died on my lips, I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to force him to remember, to make him hurt anymore than he already was. But even though I stopped myself, he understood what I wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued to speak, his tone flat, as if discussing a long forgotten history, or the weather, rather than the death of his only family member.

“Poison. I still don’t know who did it. Plenty of people with reason to. My mother was beautiful, favored by the King more than most of the other woman who had born him children. She died slowly, fading away in front of me into skin and bones, and there was nothing I could do. But no matter how much it must have hurt her, she continued to smile, to hope I would live happily without hatred or fear.” His voice cracked towards the end, his eyelashes damp from the tears he was trying to hold back.

I reached out, hugging him tightly, and slowly he lowered his head, resting it on my shoulder. His ragged breath felt warm on my neck as he slowly regained his calm. “So you decided to win the crown to avenge her?”

I felt him nod at my words. “They threw me into the Ninth Lord’s household after her death, beat me, cursed me, humiliated me. A useless prince with no backing. But I didn’t give up. I was going to take everything they wanted. The crown, the country, their power and wealth… I would crush it with my own two hands.” His tone was dark.

“I had planned it out. Get their guard down by participating in the first two trials, and strike while they are fighting and squabbling for power in the final party. Even if only one of them was the one who murdered my mother, they all stood by and watched, seeing it as one less opponent to fight with rather than the death of an innocent woman. I was going to kill them all.”

And he had… or at least he had tried in the book. I licked my lips nervously, stammering out my next question. “Umm… Are you still going to do that?”

He lifted his head, his tear stained gaze meeting my own. “Would you hate me if I did?”

“Hate?” I didn’t want him to be a villain. I was horrified still at the thought of him becoming a merciless killer like I had read about before. But even so, I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I can’t hate you. If you choose to turn against this world… I’ll fight them all with you.”

Maybe I’m the real villain in this story.

A hand reached out and brushed the hair away from my eyes. “I don’t want to see you fight the world for me. So win or lose… I’ll play this game until the end.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief, separating from him and standing up, brushing the dirt from my dress. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” His whisper could barely be heard, “That’s only as long as I can keep you safe. If they try to hurt you…”

I met his gaze, seeing a darkness that I didn’t recognize there. “Luke?”

He sighed, standing up and hugging me briefly, before turning back towards the castle. “Let’s get ready for the party.”

________________________________

By the time the first party started I was already mentally exhausted. Before we had even left, there was a brief fight over what I would wear. My initial suggestion of wearing camouflage and hiding in the bushes was vetoed, not only by Luke, but the entire service staff. Luke’s suggestion of a purple gown, the color only worn by royalty or those married to royalty was also rejected. We went back and forth a few times before deciding on a low key but expensive gown.

As I walked in a few steps behind Luke, I stared down at my ball gown. It was a little too fancy for a nameless side character, which made me nervous, but looking around at the other women in the room, I felt slightly relieved. Bright colors, large gems and very low necklines seemed to be in style. The dark green color of my gown was less eye-catching, but reminded me of my previous hunting gear, with a high collar open only at the throat, where a simple silver star necklace lay. The sleeves were long and loose, the skirt billowing out but less voluminous then those around me, the style choices allowing me unrestricted movement.

It wasn’t a bad compromise.

As I looked around the room, I realized that the room had separated into groups, each centered around an older man or woman wearing a red sash with a golden key attached.

The Ten Lords.

Now that I was looking at them in person, the plot, which had evaded my memory in the past years suddenly, was more clear. In the book, Graham had used the knowledge gained from all his followers he had saved along the way to sway the Lords to his side. Each girl he had rescued, who was desperately in love with him, conveniently knew how to convince one of the Lords.

At the time, it had irritated me. I thought it was the author’s way of explaining why Graham’s harem and terrible treatment of the girls who cared for him was necessary. But now…

I knew exactly what to say to get the Lord’s on Luke’s side.

Feeling excited, I started walking towards the first group, only to be stopped by a gentle tug on my hand.

“Luke?”

At my questioning glance, he bowed with a bright smile. “May I have this dance?”

“Sure.” Fortunately the dances in this world were fairly simple, not unlike a waltz back in my old life. Finally that ballroom class I took comes in handy! As we danced, we settled into an easy rhythm, and I cast a worried look around the room.

“Shouldn’t we be… you know…”

Luke chuckled. “Scheming?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head. “It’s only the first party. They’ll use this one to feel us out, see what cards we’re holding. If we’re too eager, they’ll be less likely to side with us in the end.”

“… If I told you, I knew exactly what each of the Lords wanted in exchange for their key, would you believe me?” I felt nervous. Graham believed that Chloe and I had psychic or prophetic powers, which was easier to explain then the concept of living in the world of a fantasy book series, but I had never used the knowledge in front of Luke openly before.

Luke’s gaze was serious as he continued to lead me through the dance. “I believe you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know?” A girl who had been trapped as a slave in the Ninth Lord’s household, and then spent years in the forest hunting. How could I explain my intricate knowledge of the Ten Lord’s motivations?

I could just tell him the truth.

Even as I considered that tempting, terrifying option, he shook his head slowly.

“I don’t need to know.” Seeing my confusion, he added. “You’re allowed to have secrets.”

“But…”

“So relax during the first party, and we’ll figure out recruiting the Lords in tomorrow night’s event.

The song ended, and Luke stepped away with a small bow. I curtsied in return, but as I straightened up, someone had stepped between us with a wide smile.

“I claim the next dance.”

Graham.

________________________________

Luke shook his head, reaching out to pull him away. “Don’t think about it.”

“Careful, brother,” Evading his grasp, Graham stepped closer to me, grabbing my arm. “If you make a scene here over a woman, it will be hard to gather support from the Lords.”

Luke rolled his eyes at the warning. “Like I care about that. Now let go…”

“It’s fine.” At my words, both men turned towards me, confused. I smiled at Luke, trying to reassure him. “It’s just a dance.”

“Are you sure?” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his brother’s hand which was holding on to me.

“Wait for me.” Pulling my arm from Graham’s grasp, I positioned myself across from him, a much more formal distance than what I had danced with Luke. “Your Highness?”

Graham frowned, but took my hands and began to lead. “Why are you treating me so coldly?”

“… Are you an idiot?” I stared at him as we danced. “You do remember that you tried to drug me last time we met?”

“Only because I love you so much.” His gaze was intense, with more than a little obsession brewing within. It was uncomfortable to face. “And I didn’t succeed, anyways. You drugged me in the end, so actually you owe me.”

I stepped on his foot. Hard. “I owe you nothing. So let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

“Don’t fight the inevitable, Darling.” His smile widened. “We’re destined to be together.”

Is this the confidence of the main hero of a story? I remembered that in the book he had innumerable women falling in love with him. Perhaps it had messed with his head? Realizing it would be impossible to convince him through logic, I stayed silent, hoping for the dance to end. Unfortunately, Graham kept talking, and was difficult to ignore.

“After the third party, I’ll have the token back, we can announce our engagement then.”

“Don’t be delusional.” I stepped on his foot again, smiling as he winced with pain. “We’re not even friends, much less in a relationship.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s. And you have at least eight women who would love to marry you.”

His hands tightened on my own, the grip painful. “I don’t want them.”

“And I don’t want you.” I shrugged. “That’s life.”

“Do you want my brother?” He tried to pull me closer, but I stopped on his foot hard enough to stop the motion.

Yes. “It’s not any of your business who I want.”

“Fine.” He snarled. “I’ll become King, and then you’ll have to listen.”

The song ended, and I gave a sigh of relief. Graham kept holding onto my hands, despite my less than subtle attempts to pull them free. Just as I was considering a more drastic escape strategy, which would involve kneeing him in the testicles, a voice interrupted our silent struggle.

“Brother, how good to see again! How about we trade partners for the next dance?”

I looked over to see an unfamiliar smiling face. He was obviously younger, at most seventeen or eighteen years old, his golden hair and green eyes similar to Graham. But his face was more angular, giving him a sharp, severe look, and his eyes seemed to roam around the room, stopping seemingly at random as he assessed everything before him. I felt his gaze crawl over me, and shuddered with disgust at the delighted light in his eyes.

There’s something wrong with this man.

“Fetter, what are you…?” Graham started to question him, but trailed off in shock as he saw the man’s partner. A very familiar woman.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Chloe, dressed in a long, purple gown, smiled sweetly at him.

“Chloe, you joined Fetter’s side?” I was shocked. As far as I knew, she had disliked that character in Deadly Crown, obsessed over Graham instead.

At my question she shot be a glare, before recovering her expression. “I happened to get lost in the castle, and Prince Fetter was kind enough to offer to escort me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Graham. “Shall we dance, Prince Graham?”

I watched, shaking my head as Graham took her hand slowly, studying her dress with a cold expression

He might be an obsessed, egotistical prick, but he’s not an idiot. Graham had been involved in intrigue since he was a small child. His mother was a scheming force to be reckoned with. Did Chloe really think he would trust her once she had shown support for Fetter?

“Let’s dance.” As i thought it over, Fetter took advantage of my distraction, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the center of the room, ignoring Graham’s look of anger at his gesture.

________________________________

The music started up again and we began to dance.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Why wouldn’t I be excited?” I answered in a flat tone. “I get to dance with all three princes today. I’m honored beyond all expression.”

Fetter smiled, the expression making my skin crawl. “Between dancing with the princes in a beautiful ball gown and drinking poison…?”

I thought it over. “I guess it depends on the poison. There are a few that might rank lower than this.”

“I see it.” He laughed. “I wondered why they were so desperate. But I see it now.” He leaned closer. “It’s your eyes. We’ve grown up crooked thanks to that worthless old man on the throne, never knowing what it would be like to have someone treat us as people instead of a tool to be used. Your eyes are refreshingly free of greed and desire. It’s almost as if you have no expectations from this world.”

I followed his lead silently. He was right. I didn’t have any expectations. This world was nothing but a nightmare for me, with the exception of Blade and Luke. I honestly wasn’t sure how I had gotten here, and if or when I would return. “Your point?” After a long silence, I asked coldly.

“My brothers covet that in you. Want to preserve it, or at least steal it away and hoard it for their own.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”

“Me?” His smile grew vicious. “I want to destroy it. Break you into a thousand pieces, and watch them cry as they try to put you back together, only to break you again.”

My blood ran cold. “You’re insane.”

“We all are crazy, darling. Each and every one of us in the Royal family. Our father wanted it that way.” He shrugged as he danced. “Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off. I’m just the most honest about it.”

Stepping away, I ignored the fact that the dance hadn’t ended, I ignored the political implications and the gossip that would be spoke about an unknown woman rudely interrupting her dance with a prince. My mind, my body, my entire being was overwhelmingly consumed by a single need.

To get away from him.

I felt it strongly. A sense of danger. A certainty of death. It hung over Fetter like a cloud, and the longer I stood next to him the more certain I was that I would not escape. I walked quickly, not noticing the mix of concerned and angry stares, until a familiar hand reached out and grabbed my own, startling me.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s face was pale as he studied my own, he looked over at Fetter and I saw hatred flare up deep within his gaze.

We all are crazy.

I shook my head silently.

“We’ll leave early.” Pulling me along, I was surprised, barely able to keep up with his pace.

“But the test...”

“It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t hesitate as he walked away. “None of it does.”

As we moved along, I heard Luke add under his breath. “As long as you’re okay.”

Feeling warm, I squeezed his hand in return, following him back to his rooms.

________________________________

We sat down, in the dark and silent rooms, facing each other. The rooms were cold with the evening chill, the only light from the moonlight streaming in from the window. But it was enough light to see Luke’s face.

He watched me, his expression concerned, his eyes studying every inch of my features as if to etch them into his memory. There was a hint of panic in his gaze, one hand clutched tightly at his chest as he watched me, as if he was worried that I would disappear the second he looked away.

“Should we run away?” He asked quietly, his voice serious.

“Would they let us?”

“…” He leaned his head forward, laughing bitterly. “This late in the game? They’d be more likely to have us hunt down for fear it was part of a scheme.”

“Then why would you ask?”

Luke stared at me in silence for a few moments, the pain and panic becoming more clear with each passing second. “I don’t want to lose you. I won’t let them even have the chance.”

Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Remembering Graham’s obsessed words, Fetter’s undisguised violence… I shuddered, and reached out to hold his hand.

He was shaking. I held his hand between both of mine, feeling him slowly calm down.

I had run away tonight. I was still afraid of dying. Of being involved in the plot too much. But I wasn’t going to run away again.

I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, tired sigh. “We need to talk, Luke.”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About how I got here, why I know so much, and why I refuse to have a name… it will sound crazy. You may not believe me.” I swallowed uncomfortably. “But I think it’s the key to surviving all this madness. Winning the crown if that’s what you want. But... If…after… you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

“...”

After a brief silence Luke smiled, the expression startling clear despite the fear I could still see in his eyes. “Nothing could be crazy enough for me to want that.”

I didn’t smile back. “Then I’ll tell you about a story… called ‘Deadly Crown.’”

#writing #I refuse to be a named character #pt 6 #fantasy #intrigue

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ckret2 · 4 years ago

Text

Gigan Invades Earth

I got a request on ko-fi for “something Gigan-Ghidorah,” and I don’t have any freestanding Gigan/Ghidorah fic plans right now, all my current plans are from farther forward in the chronology of the fics I’m currently writing.

So I was like, okay, I’ll just write a few scenes from, uh... like, sixteen fics ahead of where I am right now.

So here’s a few scenes from way ahead of where we currently are! I haven’t edited it because this fic ain’t done and ain’t gonna be for a long time, but enjoy the preview.

###

First contact was made on a Monday at exactly ten in the morning, local Central Zone time—as convenient a time as any for first contact to happen: late enough in the morning that just about everyone was up and about but early enough to ensure the arrival would dominate all but the early morning news broadcasts; and at the start of the work week so that all of the white-collar governmental sorts who were going to have to deal with this were rested from the weekend.

He'd planned it that way.

One moment, the sky above Constitution Plaza in Mexico City was clear; the next moment, a smooth object hurdled down from the sky so fast that passersby didn't even have time to send out panicked messages about their impending doom before it stopped, hovering, seeming to glower down on the National Palace. A thunderclap followed in the wake of its sudden stop, traveling out as a deep rumble across the city.

It sat there, a dark grey and black mass of machinery thrumming in the air, for exactly five minutes: long enough to attract the attention of damn near half the continent but not long enough for the panicking politicians inside the National Palace to start rallying the troops. Then a deep, slightly synthesized-sounding voice boomed out of the ship. It was clearly audible for blocks around in every direction:

"Buenos días. Vengo en son de paz. Llévame hasta tu líder."

Good morning. I come in peace. Take me to your leader.

Astute observers noted two things about the new arrival:

It had a sense of humor.

And it had done its research.

###

"On behalf of Monarch," Serizawa said, his Spanish stilted and slow over the video call, "I am honored that you have invited us to witness this historic occasion. But I don't understand what place Monarch has in a moment of... of interstellar diplomacy."

The video conference was cut into four windows: Serizawa Ishiro, who'd pulled on a button-up shirt for the call but who beneath the frame of the camera was sitting up in bed, still on bed rest from his near-death experience during the Titans' mass awakening; Xochitl Flores Rosales, scientist at Outpost 56-B monitoring Rodan and Ghidorah, and Monarch's official liaison to the Mexican government; a representative of the Mexican government, a stern-looking middle-aged woman with deep frown lines creasing her brown face, someone whom Monarch had never worked with before but who had been available to get on the line with them; and a live feed of the interview being conducted between the flustered Mexican president and the alien.

The alien took up most of Constitution Plaza; even sitting, it towered over the four-story National Palace, and every other nearby building. Footage taken of it standing when it had descended from its ship put it at fully a third taller than Godzilla. It was recognizably bipedal, seemed vaguely avian or reptilian, and called to mind comparisons to penguins, turtles, chicken, and lizards. Fully half of its body was covered in metallic-looking prosthetics or armor—unless that was how its body naturally looked? It was far too soon to know. They didn't even know what planet it came from.

"Unless you called us because of the size of our visitor?" Serizawa ventured. In the fourth screen, muted, cameras set atop the National Palace craned back to look at the alien's head. Its face was shaded beneath the spacecraft the loomed over several city blocks; only the glow of the red goggles-like visor that seemed to serve as its eyes helped illuminate its face. "Despite its scale, I don't think it's wise to count it as a titan."

"But it's already counted itself as a titan," the government representative said.

While Serizawa raised his eyebrows in surprise, Xochitl hurried to pull up a video clip—she'd been in the call longer than Serizawa and had watched more of the interview. "Here," she said. "One of the first questions he answered."

The president's voice was tinny and small as he asked through speakers, "What is your name?"

"Nothing you can pronounce," the alien said, then launched into what was clearly a prepared comment: "But the largest citizens of your planet—you call them 'titan' because they're titanic? I have the most in common with them, and since I'm gigantic—call me Gigan." His metal beak seemed to curve into a smirk.

Serizawa watched silently, hand over his mouth in concentration. Somewhat abashed, he said, "Gigan speaks better Spanish than me."

Xochitl laughed weakly. The government rep barely managed to crack a smile.

"And called the titans citizens of our planet," Serizawa went on. "Not animals, or residents—citizens. As fluent as Gigan is, I doubt it's a mistranslation."

"Maybe it misunderstands their status on Earth," the government rep said.

Serizawa said, "Or maybe Gigan is trying to tell us that we misunderstand their status."

The clip continued as Gigan answered another question: "I don't have a gender. I don't reproduce like species on your planet do. But most of you humans respect men more, don't you? So you can refer to me with male grammar."

Serizawa nodded slowly. "Yes, I think he understands how things work on Earth just fine."

Xochitl laughed harder.

"So that's why we thought Monarch should be involved," the government rep said.

"I understand now. We'll offer whatever assistance we can." Serizawa nodded at the clip. "Should we return to the live interview?"

"In a moment," the government rep said. "To get a full understanding of the situation, you should know why Gigan says he's come to Earth."

Serizawa nodded and focused on the clip again.

The president was asking, "Why have you come to Earth? Diplomacy? To trade resources?"

Gigan said, "I want to purchase some real estate."

###

He was in the market for a few acres near the gulf coast of Mexico—"just enough space for me to put my ship down and stretch my legs," he said.

He didn't represent any worlds or governments. He wasn't setting up an embassy. To his knowledge, no one else would be following after him. It was just him, a lone traveler in a lonely part of the galaxy. Most of the major population centers, he said, were way to heck and gone on the other side of the galaxy—and then he moved the conversation onward without elaborating on these alien civilizations.

He wanted to get his land the legal way—the human way. With currency. He reassured them that he understood currency, money, markets, capitalism, yes, all that—they all existed other places, with minor variations. He dealt in money most of the time. He had a job. He said he was an interstellar freelance mediator. When two parties had a conflict, one hired him to resolve the dispute.

He didn't intend to sell the fabulous secrets to interstellar space travel. He had a ballpark idea of how much that info was worth to humans, and he didn't need near that much to buy a few acres. He offered raw materials: enormous hunks of raw iron and gold. He'd harvested a few asteroids on the way into Earth. Effortless for him, impossible for humans.

Yes, he could accept money from the deal. He had a bank account. Or PayPal or Venmo, if they preferred. He also had accounts on YouTube, Twitter, Reddit, and Weibo. When he gave his usernames, the accounts were immediately flooded with thousands of new followers. He mostly lurked, retweeted titan pictures from Monarch, trolled flat earthers by informing them he was an alien currently orbiting Earth, and three weeks ago got in a heated debate on a M*A*S*H subreddit. He started responding to messages from new followers while still speaking with the Mexican president with no outward change in his demeanor or visible Internet connection.

By early afternoon, they had agreed—in concept—to Gigan's proposed sale of metals and purchase of land; in three days they would meet again to give Gigan a list of potential properties for him to choose from.

"And on behalf of the people of Mexico and the entire human race," said the president, reading off a statement that a speechwriter had prepared for him two hours earlier, "I would like to thank you for this peaceful and mutually fruitful first contact—"

"'First contact'?" Gigan cut in.

The president stammered to a stop. After a moment, he said, "Yes, that's... that's our phrase for our first meeting with intelligent alien life."

"I know what it means," Gigan said. "But I'm not your first contact. Some of my friends are already here."

Flabbergasted, the president asked, "Are—are they? Where?"

"I'm sure you've already heard of them," Gigan said. "We're former coworkers. What is it you've been calling them—Ghidrah, Gidora?"

as he asked the question.

And suddenly the entire meeting looked different.

There was something sadistically delighted in Gigan's glowing visor as he basked in the humans' stunned silence. "Speaking of, I meant to visit them before I headed back to orbit," he said. "Do you know if they're at home?"

###

It had been eons since Gigan had last seen the triple threat.

Eons since he'd grabbed himself a space ship and taken off across the galaxy to attempt to track them down.

Eons spent combing back and forth over the same five hundred cubic light-years where their trail went cold, trying to figure out where they'd vanished to—if they'd left that patch of space, or if they were still drifting through space in the heart of an unfallen meteor, or if they had died on some lonely planet...

Until now. Until he'd found traces of their signature in this little solar system. Until he'd found the one populated planet, jacked into the primitive locals' communication system, and found it riddled with pictures and recordings of the trio.

It had been so long since Gigan had seen them, the material of the only physical photo he had of them had long since corroded and crumbled. He'd digitized, reprinted, redigitized, and re-reprinted the image dozens of times, maybe hundreds. He was afraid his own electronic memories of them might have also decayed over time, byte-sized glitches switching 1s for 0s and 0s for 1s until the memories distorted, the images changed, and he forgot what they looked like.

But when he saw them through the humans' news feeds, they looked exactly how he remembered. Even compressed through humans' primitive sound recording processes, they sounded the same.

It had been eons—and now he'd be face to face with them in just a few minutes. He'd left his ship in orbit and was flying down to the island they'd been hanging out on under his own power.

And now he couldn't put off asking himself the question he'd been trying to avoid for millennia:

What if they didn't want to see him?

They were the ones who'd run off, after all—and he'd never found out why. Maybe they hated the sight of him. Maybe they would to try to kill him. Maybe by now they'd completely forgotten about him.

He could see a glint of gold on the island below. Sparks sizzled through his system.

No time left for doubt. He waited until he was low enough to be within hearing range, and bellowed at top volume, "Hey! You worthless, spineless, heartless featherweight! What's the big idea, bailing on me like that?!"

They started, shifting from reclining on top of their folded-up wings to crouched anxiously, long necks whipping around to search for the unexpected noise. It was Lefty who looked up first and spotted Gigan; and faster than Gigan could react, they were launching straight up to meet him in midair.

He'd definitely forgotten how fast they could take off. "Whoa, wait—"

they crashed into him, getting him in the gut with a double head butt; and then tried to grapple him with their claws while he was stunned. He barely managed to weave out of their way.

"You damn loser!" One jaw snapped at him, and another demanded, "Did you come all this way to ride on our coattails some more?!" Lightning crackled over their wings with every flap, the sky quickly clouding over.

"You wish! How's business been without me to handle finances for you, huh?"

They butted a forehead violently against his, static crackling back and forth over their skin. The rattling of their tails was nearly lost in a crackle of thunder.

They were happy to see him.

#godzilla #fanfic #my writing #(not stuffing this in all the usual tags since I haven't finished this yet)#(but if I don't stick this in ONE tag I'm not gonna find this later)#(if you try to read this and you don't know what's going on... it's because there's like 75 fics of context you haven't read)#(including 15 I haven't written yet)

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