#“200 years and yet I fell for that same trap

[smg4kaizokinnie]

Scandal in Bohemia adaptation in SH22 would be funny because what if Holmes falls for the exact fuckign trick twice

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

taglist: @sp1rl @yennasaurusrex @ellen3101 @firefirevampire @directioner5life @littlegrapejuice @obxstiles @scopeiguess @newlifeforus @justsisse @zestytimbit @taygrls @charlosvibesonly @sparkleofpizza

[theladywholivesonthemoon]

LUCID DREAM

warning(s): spoilers, lot`s of them. Just a lot of fluff, angst if you squint;

a/n: It’s a very short piece about the reader and Astarion. After watching so many baldur’s gate content I fell in love with Astarion and I hope I can portray him nicely here ;). Gif not mine.

After the battle has been won, Cazador dead, feelings confessed and a future together building slowly, he needs to breath. They find themselves sitting on the stairs of an old mansion they now have chosen to call home, the light of the moon coats the pale elf in a cold light, making him more ethereal than usual, while she watches him in complete silence. The promise of forever, braving the world together exhilarates him at the same time it scares. It`s all so new, this freedom. Shackled for 200 yeas and now he is free, yet he has no idea what to do. So many things come to mind at the same time, and at the same time none at all. He feels so much, and nothing at all, but-

“Astarion?” She prompts him softy, a hand coming to caress his cheeks, pushing a stray curl behind his ear.

“Yes, love?” Mirth coats his voice, yet she sees right through his attempt of charming her- she always does.

“Tell me, please?” The vampire smiles crookedly, turning his sights away from the bright moon and towards the cobblestone bellow. A great sigh leaves him and after twisting his fingers nervously, letting out a humorless laugh, he finally turn to her. He is faced with soft, welcoming eyes and a small smile as she gazes into his eyes. Astarion offers his hand and without much thought she places hers in his. He tugs her closer, their knees touching and another heavy sigh leaves him before he can speak again.

“It’s just- I’m free, right? But, it feels so… hard. I keep coming back to those moments before his death, all that anger, pain. I can`t just let go of it all, forget it. Sometimes I feel like I’m dragging you down, having to cope with this mess of feeling. And I know what you’ll say- ‘You love me and nothing will change that’, but sometimes it’s just, hard”.

Her looks shift, and before he can call it one of pity, she holds his hand tighter, bringing her other hand to entangle with their hold. “I know, and I can’t even begin to fathom all that you’ve been though and I’ll hate that bastard until the end of my days, but you can talk to me. All that you want to say, I’ll listen. I love you, Astarion. And I’ll love you through all hardships, that is what we promised, wasn’t it?”

He stares at her again, gazing deeply into her eyes, her soul, searching for any trace of falsehood, yet he finds none. He thinks it silly, how he still distrusts her on occasions, hates himself for it. He should be able to trust her completely, but 200 years of abuse impedes him. But, he braves though it, pushes though his distrust and meets her warm embrace, reminding himself in her arms of the love and trust they share, at lets go. His arms tighter around her waist as his mouth meets her neck, delivering a sweet kiss to her pulse point. She drives her fingers through his curls, petting his hair slowly.

“I wonder,” He says softly, voice slightly muffled, “what comes after. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a lucid dream, trapped in my place as the world turns around me. I know I have carved a new beginning in stone, I know we are together always, I know my undying love for you, for us, and sometimes it all eludes me. Like I’m looking through blurry water. I just wished I could be more for you. Give myself fully. And I swear I’m trying my best to be the new and improved Astarion, believe me. I just wished it was easier”.

She pulls back slightly, cradling his chin to twist his face slowly towards her. She caresses his cheek lovingly, love overflowing from her gaze. A soft kiss is placed on his forehead, his eyes closing as their noses brush in a caress. No words are needed, for she knows now is not the time for sweet words. She comforts him with her presence, her listening ears, for him to whisper his fears and anxiety, to brave through his negative thoughts, to live the wonders, to acknowledge his feelings, to express all of him. They hug for a moment as the cold wind of the night brushes their hairs astray, but it does not disturb their little corner of peace, away from the world. Then, she untangles from him, getting up and offering her hand for him to take.

“Let’s go inside, shall we? I feel rather chilly and would rather cuddle in our soft couch in front of our fireplace”.

He smiles, a big and true smile, like the ones he always gives her, because it’s her. Astarion takes her hand and she tugs him up. Crashing softly into each other as they let out quiet laughs. He tugs her close to him by her waist, delivering a sweet his to her lips, dragging his hands lowers until she pushes back, reprimanding him with a glare of false disapproval as he laughs loudly.

“Of course, my darling”. He delivers a kiss next to her ear, “I’ll be delighted to ravish you inside”. Astarion follows her inside while they both laugh. He delivers a delicate kiss to her mouth before he closes the door and is filled with warmth once again. No words are said, just small laughs, velvety touches and each other, for always.

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 5

Loop #177

Scott had decided to take one vacation loop and this happened? A null loop? In an empires world where Xonorth won? Without an arm? ... The world tree was very very mean.

Loop #179

Grian had decided to take a vacation loop, nothing too big of course but something relaxing... of course this plan did not predict for a null loop stuck in the end with the most sadistic version of the Watchers possible. Grian would never set fire to the world tree...but the tree is making it really hard not to want to.

Loop #182

Pearl wanted to just have a good loop, being trapped for twenty years in a tower was not part of that plan. It being a null loop even less. Being a damsel in distress is extremely boring without something to do.

Loop #184

This is war, after almost 200 loops Scar had yet to have a Star Wars loop and now he instead had a Star Trek one... To be fair it was a good one but it's the principle! The world tree did it on purpose.

Loop #187

Scott: Guess Grian Isn't going to be the only god now...

Pearl: I guess so... So whose place did we take?

Scott: I know a bunch about this place, I took Mianite's place as god of order and you took Dianite's as god of chaos.

Pearl: Where's Scar?

Scott: According to the loop's memories he's taking Ianite's place as balance god.

Pearl: Wait, wasn't Ianite imprisoned for like...centuries?

Scott: ...

Pearl: Let's go get him.

Loop #189

It was two in the morning when Scar crashed trough the window of Grian's apartment. Grian was not excited to see him.

Grian: Another hero loop?

Scar: What? No! This is a villain loop! Watch and fear, I am the wizard!

Grian: The wizard? Really?

Scar: What!? It's straight to the point.

Grian: ... I'll stop bullying if I can join the villany. I still got a mother spore outfit from last time we looped into season 7.

Scar: Welcome on board!!

Scott: No chaos magic this time?

Pearl: Nah, decided to go waterbending for this hero loop. Get better at healing. Maybe if I get a villain next time.

Loop #191

This was early, Grian had gotten used to sometimes waking up in Hermitcraft season 6 or 7. He wasn't too surprised when he woke up as a Watcher or in Evo. But this? He didn't even think he could loop back to high school. Fortunately this wasn't a null loop so he could actually do something but still...

Loop #193

Pearl didn't mind being an hyena, it was the why that annoyed her the most. At the same time, she should have expected this to happen considering Scar's name. She tried not to sigh as she recites her part.

Pearl: And where to we feature?

Scar: Just listen to teacher. I know it sound sordid but you'll be rewarded when at last, I'm given my dues. And injustice deliciously squared, be prepared!

Loop #193

It's been a while since Grian had gotten to start in the desert, as much as he hated waking up here at the beginning of the loops now it was a bit nostalgic. He knew this was going to be a relaxing loop.

Loop #195

Bdubs: She's losing her freaking mind-

*Boom*

Bdubs didn't get to finish that he became smoke while his items fell to the ground... The spectators weren't happy.

Grian: ...Who decided to give Pearl a gun?

Scar: I did!

Grian: ...why?

Loop #196

Rendog: Give us back that banner!

Grian: Nev'r! If thee need t then cometh h're and taketh t thee phony king.

Ren: Phony? How dare thee, thee damn hippie! I'll showeth thee the wrath of the r'd wint'r.

Grian: Nay, I wouldst winneth.

Skizz: What's going on dude?

Scott: They are talking in shakespearian english.

Skizz: I got that. Why?

Scott: I have no idea. Ren isn't even looping, he's just going along with it.

Skizz: Looping?

Scott: It's nothing.

Ren: Cometh h're and visage mine own wrath thee heathen!

Grian: Is yond a dare? Prepareth thyself f'r a vanquish.

Mumbo: Grian?

Grian: There is a way we can still be friends.

Mumbo: Ther-

Grian: þū meahte geunon mē!

Mumbo: ... What?

Grian: What? It's just some Old english.

Tango: Jimmy? Jimmy? What's wrong?

Jimmy: It's Scar and Grian! Make them stop!

Tango: What do you mean-

Grian: 𒁠 𒂠𒀭𒋠𒍦𒋀 𒆭𒋠𒂠𒄀𒊠𒊀𒋀𒀀𒋠𒂠 𒆤𒄠𒀀𒋀 𒋀𒄠𒄀𒁠𒊠 𒁭𒊠𒀭𒁀𒇠𒄀𒈀

Scar: 𒁠𒊀𒍤Y𒄀𒀀𒄠𒌋 𒈀𒄀 𒋠𒄀𒁠𒋀𒄠𒄀𒊠𒍤

Joel: Grian, mate, please stop this.

Jimmy: You'll get used to it eventually.

Grian: 𓃀𓄿𓂧 𓃀𓇌𓋴 𓃀𓄿𓂧 𓃀𓇌𓋴 𓅃𓉔𓄿𓏏 𓄿𓂋 𓇌𓅲 𓎼𓇋𓈖𓎼 𓏏 𓂧 𓅃𓉔𓈖 𓏏𓉔𓇌 𓎢𓅓 𓆑𓂋 𓇌𓅲

Joel: I really doubt it.

Grian: ⊑⟟ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒ ⋔⏃⍀⏁⊬⋏!

Martyn: You do know I speak ender right?

Grian: ... I forgot.

Loop #199

Listen, Grian didn't mean to start a religion really. That was more Joel's thing then his. It's not his fault he went god mode right as Gem started her Dawn church. At least he turned the god war between him, an unawake Pearl and Joel into a prank war. Which he was winning by the way. But that didn't stop it from being... Annoying at certain times. At least now he could teleport, that's a plus.

Loop #200

Grian: People! We got an expansion to our loop!

Scar: We did?

Grian: Check your loop memories!

Scar: Why- oh! We are after Secret Life!

Pearl: Finally, we get see season 10!

Scar: Look Joel and Skizz are Hermits.

Grian: Good for them, kinda hardcore that their first month of the season is demise 2.

Pearl: I mean, they are used to the Life Games so It's actually a good way to introduce them mate.

Pearl: Mate.

Grian: I know...

Pearl: I'm so sorry for you.

Grian: I'm going to have so many fishing loops now.

Pearl: It's ok...

Grian: Curse you unawake baseline me! Curse you!

Pearl: ... Snails?

Grian: Snails.

Scar: ... What are we talking about?

Grian: Snails.

Pearl: Snails snails.

Scar: ... Ok then, I'm out of here now.

Pearl: Snails!

Pearl: Is it me or is there something up with the season 10 water?

Grian: It's not you... it might like a moon big thing.

Pearl: Not another moon big, please.

Prev Next First

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 5 - Call Me

[can also be read on AO3]

Summary: As Rory's mission comes to a close, she receives a call from Price - Laswell's been taken and the Lieutenant's skills are required.

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, smoking, anxiety, mild medical references, and just a hint on intimacy between Rory and Price, Gaz being a smart ass

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 5.1 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV.

the return of a throwaway oc from the first cod fic I ever wrote titled "Ten Years Earlier". Welcome back Sydney Macallen.

October 31, 2022 01:00 - Somewhere over the coast of Spain

It was an unfortunate state of affairs when the end of a mission going off without a hitch birthed a sense of unease in Rory. A quiet, reflexive dread. Too easy. As if the whole world should have been out to get her and Botha, and yet here she was, sitting in Nik's helicopter, several hours after the drop, the unrepentant weapons dealer handed off like a bratty child at daycare – somebody else's problem. Thank Christ. But with all the work Konni put into tracking down Botha, chasing him down before he could come clean, and the fact that American missiles had been stolen somehow in the first place, her stomach clenched. 

Definitely too easy.

Her leg bounced, foot tapping, a stored reserve of kinetic nervous tension slowly being released but with nowhere to go, bottled up while trapped several thousand feet up in the air and moving at 200 km/hour in a steel trap. Slipping her cigarette case from the inside of her jacket along with her lighter, she flipped the smooth metal inlaid with pink enamel roses open and placed one of the cigarettes to her lips, lighting it and taking the weight off her shoulders with a heavy exhale of smoke through her nostrils. 

Eyes fluttering shut, she leaned back in the seat and took a long, slow drag. The warmth of the smoke curled down her throat and into her lungs, spreading out into each cluster of blooming alveoli. Flora inside her chest, opening and closing with each breath like the petals of a morning glory with the rise and fall of the sun. “You should get some rest, Sinclair,” Nikolai suggested, stretching up to flip the necessary switches as they flew. “Won’t get you back for hours yet.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered. Pulling the cigarette away, grey puffs swirled over her lips as she spoke. “Still have a report to fill out while I’m at it.”

“You’re as bad as the Captain. Not much for breaks, are you?” She snickered and glanced over at the pilot, passing him the cigarette and watching his dark eyes light up as they flickered away from the night sky that carried on before them and brought the cigarette to his mouth to hang from the corner of it. “Got me there. I suppose that’s why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

His low hum of acknowledgement was resonant, filling the cabin with the ominous drone of a Gregorian choir. “Price was never one for settling down before you. Quite the woman you are, Sinclair. маленькая принцесса.”

She rolled her eyes at the comment about her being a ‘little princess’, never taking very kindly to the moniker Nik had decided on for her, even if she was used to being referred to as ‘Posh Spice’ by others. “Now look at him. Almost domesticated, living with me… Christ, it’s like we’re married already.” He gave a low chuckle in response, passing the cigarette back to her, and a comfortable silence fell over the two. The same easy kind that people who shared a foxhole or a sniper’s nest together came to find, a void that could exist without needing to be filled with constant noise. 

Sitting in the quiet, the dull throbbing in her shoulder grew louder. The pain meds must have started wearing off and she had at least eight more hours until she would be back in England. Reaching into the pack at her feet, Rory pulled out a tube of cooling gel for her shoulder, rubbing it into the skin for temporary relief of the ache that had only been exacerbated by recent events. The helicopter’s cabin filled with the pungent, medicinal scent of menthol as her hand moved under her shirt, massaging her tender joint and the surrounding muscles, allowing for brief glimpses of the bruises that had sunk deep into her tissue. 

Her mind drifted as her fingers worked the flesh, watching out the window as the clouds drifted past and the glowing LEDs of the switches and flight controls haloed in the dark out of the corner of her eye blending with the twinkle of the stars and the glow of the moon. Right now, down on the ground below them, Price, Kate and Gaz were preparing to take part in a reconnaissance mission against Al-Qatala and the Las Almas cartel. Another step closer to finding out what the hell was going on with those missiles and stopping them from being used by Hassan Zayani against his enemies. 

It was only a matter of time before she got dragged deeper into the mess. Rory was sure of it. 

Far too easy.

Tapping off the ash from the end of her cigarette into the ashtray that was filled to the brim with stubbed out butts from the Russian, she pulled out the satellite tablet from her bag and started typing up her report. The tedious relaying of facts: times, dates, places, faces. Details only added as required – half of it would end up being redacted anyway, as was always the case. 

However, at the first instance of typing the word Konni, her fingers curled up into a pillbug of a fist. That was a lead they would have to follow eventually, one that would leave her and the other operatives of the 141 on edge. There was nothing simple about dealing with that sort of threat, one that was supposed to have already been locked away squarely. A clean finish to a past mission.One she had been lucky enough to stay out of, finishing her officer’s training at Sandhurst, she hadn’t even technically joined the task force yet. Better late than never, she thought. It was only a matter of time really for her to have ended up on Makarov’s watchlist like the others and it was exactly these sorts of threats that made her relationship with John all the more dangerous. It made them a liability to one another, one they had yet to meet the repercussions of.

October 31, 2022 12:10 - Stirling Lines, Credenhill, Herefordshire, UK

Arriving back on the ground in England, the sun peeked out from behind heavy, grey clouds dense and swollen with rain that waited to fall. This was autumn, the bone chilling damp cold of it resting in the mist that clung to the leaves that had fallen from the trees surrounding the base and carpeted the grass with their waterlogged carcasses like melted paper bags. A different sort of humidity – the marine climate reprieve that had her pulling the collar of her jacket up to keep it off her neck. Halloween – and she could taste it in the air, feel it in the breeze. 

She craved a shower, the warm confines of a bed, some hearty food in her belly – Christ, what she’d give for some shepherd’s pie. Even the stuff from the canteen with the overly bland carrots and peas that had been boiled to bits, all of it needing to be drowned in brown gravy to make it worthwhile. Her paisley patterned china tea cup and saucer were already calling to her, as was the pot of Earl Grey with a splash of milk and a spoonful of honey. The grating sound of Simon’s “hehehe” laugh ringing in her ears, along with the usual snide remark of “‘Avin’ tea with the queen, Sinclair”. 

But it was all set to be a far off fantasy when her mobile rang insistently in her pocket.  

The rotors of the helicopter had barely been given a chance to stop spinning and cool before she answered the call. Stepping onto the tarmac, she covered her open ear with her hand in an attempt to drown out the noise of the goings on of the base around her. Armoured trucks drove past, other aircraft touched down and took off, soldiers marched, nothing else around her came to a standstill despite the fact that she stood frozen, immediately put on alert. It wasn’t like John to call in the middle of a mission like this, not when he was supposed to be on the ground, in the trenches. Her hackles started to rise. Something was off, something had gone wrong.

“What’s going on?” There were no greetings, no endearments, this was all business. A soldier speaking with her superior, not her partner.

“Nik still with you?”

“Yeah, just landed.” She glanced back at the pilot as he did his final checks of the aircraft before he’d need to get it refilled.

“Need you two to meet us in Spain.”

Her stomach dropped, chest clenching at the barely contained growl in John’s voice as he did his best to remain calm and in control. He was on edge, the gruff tone Price usually spoke with only grittier as if he were speaking through clenched teeth, his rage palpable even over a phone line.

“Why?” She was almost afraid to ask the question, hesitant to hear the answer, expecting the worst while hoping for something simple like a quick exfil being in order. 

“Kate's been taken.”

“Taken?” The word slipped past her lips in an incredulous whisper as she stood there wide-eyed and stunned. “For fuck's sake.” Raking her fingers roughly through her hair, she brought herself back to sense. “We're on our way. Come as quick as we can.”

Slipping her phone back in her jacket, she rounded the helicopter and met Nik, sitting in the pilot seat. Her hands gripped white-knuckled at the metal of the doorway, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she chewed them nervously, watching him work, ignorant to what had happened. Noticing her out of the corner of his eye, Nikolai tilted his head to glance at her over the rims of his dark aviators. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost, принцесса.”

She winced at the statement and pushed her hand through her hair once more, brushing her hair to swap the side of her part. “Hope you weren’t planning on a long stay, Nik. Fill up and then we head back out – John needs us.”

“The Captain?” His brow lifted while the rest of his face remained completely unfazed.

“Laswell’s in trouble.”

“Дерьмо.” His pace to ready the vehicle increased, she’d never seen Nik move so quickly unless he had Price breathing down his neck. “Give me 45.”

“Right, I’ll put the kettle on in the meantime.” She would say anything to get out of this situation, willing time to move faster while Kate’s life hung in the balance. Neither terrorists nor narcos were the type a person wanted to get captured by, more than willing to use savage means to get what they wanted out of a person. If it wasn’t such a twisted joke of karma she might have just laughed, but it felt too morbid even for her at a time like this. Kate was a friend, more than just another ally or colleague and while Rory knew what they were all capable of, it still stirred something inside her to protect one of her own by whatever means necessary.

Marching towards one of the auxiliary buildings on base with little intention of putting on a pot of tea, Rory hoofed it towards medical. She would need a top up on pain medication before heading off into God only knew what next at the command of Price. Popping her head in the door, a cursory glance into the ward had her ducking past other doctors and nurses, heading towards one in particular. A blonde with her hair in a low bun, swearing in Scots as she slammed the drawer to one of the supply cabinets shut. “And just what the fuck happened t’ you, eh?” Sydney Macallen halted in front of Rory, scolding her with a thick Aberdeen accent as she spun around, hands on her hips, catching sight of the bandage on the Lieutenant’s cheek. 

“It’s a few scratches,” Rory said with a shrug. “Nothing to fret over. I do however need some pain meds for my troubles. Might’ve landed on my shoulder…on a car.”

“Y’ are fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“Wish I was.” The appeasing smirk that curled her lips doing little to curry the medic’s favour.

“Christ on a bleedin’ cracker.” Syd’s eyes rolled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, sit your wee arse down there and let me give y’ a once over,” she said, pointing at one of the nearby vacant medical beds. Taking a seat, Rory settled on the thin mattress, a tired sigh escaping her as she stretched out her shoulder carefully. The bed dipped below her weight, and much like the Princess and the Pea, she could feel every bit of the metal frame below her. Fingernails tapping against the edge, she glanced at her watch. “This isn’t going to take too long, is it? I’m on a tight schedule. Bit of a life or death thing, actually.”

Syd huffed and drew the paper thin curtains closed around the bed, the fluorescents subdued, no longer reflecting off the stark white walls. Turning and pointing at the tee shirt Rory wore, stretched out of shape with how often the gel had been reapplied during the flight, she grumbled, “Off with it. Lemme see how knackered y’ are.”

Rory pulled the shirt gently over her head, no rushed movements, all in an attempt to not let herself wince in front of the doctor currently glaring at her. Left in just her sports bra, she sat there fidgeting with the bunched up material in her hands as the cool air of the medical wing drifted over her skin coaxing goosebumps to the surface.

Hands that ran cold touched her skin, careful with the swelling around her joint.“You and this shoulder. I swear to God, Rory.”

“It's not like I planned it,” she retorted.

Grey eyes flickered towards Rory, inspecting the rest of her for any more injuries. “And I'm assumin’ that the good captain already expects y’ back out in the field too, aye? Do I dare even ask what he's got you doin'?”

“Syd, I'm part of a special task force and we all seem to be knee deep in the same shit – of course I’m going back out.”

The medic sucked her teeth and tutted her tongue, brushing her thumb over the outside edge of the bruising, noting the inflammation. “You need to take a medical leave. Let this properly heal for once.”

“Yeah?” Rory’s brows lifted, skeptical about that ever happening. “Tell the terrorists to take a break as well then.”

“Shut it, you gobby mare. Should put you in a sling for the cheek you give me over medical advice. Especially considerin’ you were the one who always doled it out during the aftermath of a hangover.” Sydney stepped back from Rory and placed her hands on her hips, confident in her place as the one with more experience when it came to the cure for what ailed folk. “You know I'm right. Might just have to convince Price I am as well.”

“You wouldn't,” Rory said with narrowed eyes.

The blonde smirked, a cruel curl to her lips as she chomped on her nicotine gum in the corner of her mouth, delighting in messing with her friend. “Have the ol’ mother hen breathin’ down your neck to get some proper care instead of pretendin’ like you're perfectly fine all the damn time. Don't know who you’re trying to convince with all that shite either.”

Rory rolled her eyes and checked her watch once more. “Would you just give me the bloody pain meds already? Worst bedside manner I’ve ever seen.”

“Can't take the ibuprofen because of the Sertraline, right?”

Nodding, she couldn’t help but recognize the odd sense of being perceived in a way that only Sydney could know her – down to her very medical history, all without ever being in the room for what caused the issues in the first place. She supposed it must have been like that when she read people, understood emotions simply through pattern recognition, the subtle movements and changes in a person’s posture. It all told a story, just like the file that held slivers of who Rory was based on blood tests and prescription pharmaceuticals. 

“Won't give y’ any of the hard stuff, know you gotta be keepin’ your wits about ya. Just gimme two ticks.”

Briefly leaving the curtained off enclosure, she returned with a container of pills in her hand, passing them to Rory. “Take care o’ yourself out there, Lieutenant. I’m not havin’ my maid of honour fall apart on me. Still need ya to return the favour after all.” She smiled and tipped her head towards the curtain. “Now, get your arse out of my medical wing. And sleep more, ya look exhausted,” she said, looking over her friend once more.

“Yes, Doctor.” Rory said, giving her friend a salute before slipping her top on and sliding off the bed, her boots thumping onto the floor. 

She had just enough time left to refresh herself and get packed for combat, there was no denying what was coming her way. It was going to get bloody and dangerous, and the further they would dig in, get entrenched, the worse it would get. 

October 31, 2022  16:15 - Spain The sun began to descend behind the helicopter in the west as Nik flew over the mountain ridge towards the fields where Price and Gaz were waiting to be picked up. The interior of the aircraft was cast in rich golden tones to match the sky streaked in peachy pink and orange as the last rays and the blue sky started to be swallowed up by the coming early evening of mid-autumn and the dark clouds that settled overhead.

Gaz, appearing more like an ant in the distance below, waved them down while holding onto his hat. The grass, bending and sweeping in a wide radius, moved with the same fluid grace as the tidal waves at the beach, the long green strands rippling and swaying as the blades cut through the air. 

With a thump they landed on the ground, the jostle traveling up through Rory’s seat as the metal door to the bird was pulled open, and Price and Gaz climbed inside, wasting little time, moving with purpose. “Nik!”

The bark of the Captain’s voice caused both Nikolai and her to turn in their seats and face the newest passengers to ride along with them. 

“Where to?”

“Urzikstan. Need to meet with Farah first.”

“Farah?” Rory asked, her brow furrowed. Climbing out of her seat, her long legs stretched over the console. “Are we looking at a full scale battle to get Kate back?”

She grabbed onto one of the overhead storage compartments for balance as Nik prepared to lift off once more, the entire craft trembling as they hovered. Price and Gaz were quick to follow suit, holding onto what they could during the initial turbulence. “Somethin’ like that. AQ’s got a hold of her, headin’ towards Al Mazrah.”

“Al Mazrah… returning to the scene of the crime, eh?” Rory’s eyes drifted around the cabin, putting pieces of the puzzle together. “I assume that’s under the direction of Hassan then.”

“Very likely.” Price shifted his weight, stretching out his lower back. “Either way we’re gonna need support.” “So,” she said looking between the two men, “Besides all this business with Kate, did you come across any of the missiles you were actually there for?”

“No,” Price replied with a defeated shake of his head, curt and sharp like the edge he was walking on. “Seems they’ve already moved on to their next destination.” The steely glare in Price’s eyes, the grim set to his jaw, all made it plain as day that he blamed himself for what happened. The man carried the weight of every mission and his own self-imposed duty of holding the world on his shoulders, and in this moment, with the way even his fingers seemed to want to fidget, he was fighting to keep his knees from buckling. He had known Laswell the longest, counted her as one of his near and dear. Kate being taken was a personal slight against him as far as he was concerned, and the heft of the responsibility of getting her back smothered the entire interior of their transport. Rory, as ever, felt that indelible need to break the mounting tension. She hated the way it settled in her chest like an anvil, making it hard to breathe. Stewing in it served little purpose, sometimes distraction was key. She glanced over at Gaz and smirked. “At least tell me the ghillie suits were worth it?” she asked, breaking the dour mood that strangled them. “Silver linings, am I right?” The hard line of Gaz’s brow and scowl snapped, the sergeant’s mouth curling into a half grin, tugging at the small scar on his cheek. “They were bloody brilliant,” he replied, giving her a little nod of thanks as he settled down into a nearby seat.

Rory laughed quietly and shook her head. “Well, glad someone had fun.” Her attention returned to Price and she reached forward, her thumb brushing tenderly along his cheekbone, watching cold blue eyes narrow and follow the path she traced along his skin.

“Still had some grease paint left behind, love,” she murmured.

The cabin shook as the helicopter took a sharp turn, throwing everyone off balance. The pair shifted back and forth, their gazes holding and never breaking, stances holding just as firm. The unmovable objects that kept one another in a gravitational field.

“Not supposed to call me that on the job, Lieutenant,” Price husked, taking a step forward, cutting the distance between them. As if there wasn’t already enough tension, it had become pregnant enough to need a baby on board sign. The distance of miles, separated for weeks, culminating in the unstoppable softening of her eyes as she gazed up at the man who she eagerly marched into battle for.  The dimple already carving into her cheek was enough proof that remorse was not on the table for her falling out of line. “Oops.”

A low growl followed by the lift of a heavy brow was enough to indicate he was laying down the law and aiming for professionalism again. Distraction, as worthy of a cause as it was, couldn’t be accepted. “How about things with Botha?” He asked, changing the subject.

Deflating like a punctured balloon, Rory took a step back and followed his silent directive, returning to the matter at hand and the twisted web that surrounded missing missiles.“In the hands of a CIA Operative by the name of Delaney as we speak, headed towards protection and immunity.”

“And Konni?” He uttered the enemy PMC’s name like a slur, the growl in his voice unable to be ignored. 

“Under new leadership, I assume. Every good outfit has someone waiting in the wings, eh? Haven’t had the chance to look much into it yet, but I’m already anticipating a whole treasure trove of rabbit holes.”

There was nothing like being kicked while already down and there seemed to be more boots pressing down on their necks each day. Old rivalries were making the ongoing war into more of a personal affair as time progressed. The lives of those they were closest to being used as leverage, made into a weakness, like fingers poking into open wounds. It was Kate this time, but there was no telling who might be next on the list. 

“Fuckin’ hell. Things are goin’ from bad t’ worse.” Price rubbed a gloved hand over the back of his neck, the stress starting to collect in his muscles like lactic acid. Flexing out his shoulders and back like a caged animal pushed into a corner, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Makarov isn’t someone to play around with,” Gaz chimed in, pulling his hat from his head and running his hand over his hair, fluffing out the hat head with friction.

Rory opened her mouth to speak and then paused, not wanting to jump to conclusions. That was a quick way of losing sight of the real enemy. The last thing they needed was to create a boogeyman out of a prisoner. “I don't know if he has anything to do with this specifically, but…” her words trailed off into a conspiratorial volume, “It's an unnerving thought, considering he’s supposed to be locked away.”

“Playin’ puppet master ’s his style,” Price mused, his glare snapping towards the open sky through the windshield.

“You’d know better than I. Was still at Sandhurst when all that was happening.”

“Didn’t stop you from gettin’ caught in the crossfire this time though, did it?” He looked down at her, leaning back and pressing his chin to his chest. Cupping her cheek, the rough pad of his gloved thumb brushed over the soft skin of her cheekbone. “Glad you came out of all that relatively unscathed,” he rumbled, gently stroking over the abrasion on her flesh, a mark to match the scar in her hairline on the same side. Pressing his forehead to hers, his stare bored into her. Eyes that usually gave nothing away were stormy, windows into a mind that was already plotting a thousand different ways he could get back at those who had wronged the ones he cared for, deciding on the efficacy of each option. A mother hen, indeed - one who didn’t leave murder with motivation out of his wheelhouse.

“Tough li’l thing, aren’t you?”

She smiled, a quiet laugh shaking her shoulders. “Always.” Gazing up at him, her hands curled around his biceps, holding him close. The sound of the rumbling rotors seemed to fade into the background until it was just the two of them. The orange sherbet gleam of the setting sun flickered in his eyes, cutting striations of fire through his irises turning them molten. She could get lost in that gimlet stare. She always did when they looked like that, making her miss the comfort of home for a fleeting moment, the peace of sitting by the fire on the couch with a glass of scotch, his arm wrapped around her... 

“You know,” Gaz’s voice sliced through the couple’s intimate moment, “Thought you two would be more well practised at keeping what you have going on secret by now.” He chuckled quietly, deep brown eyes sparkling impishly as he shook his head. “Or is it just ‘cause Nik and I are doin’ such a fine job of keepin’ your secret?”

“Shut it.” Rory pointed at him with narrowed eyes and a mock-scowl. “You are talking to two superior officers, need I remind you, Sergeant.”

“Who are breaking several military rules about fraternization and have been doing so for five years. Yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

“Prat,” she muttered. Making her way to the seat beside John, she strapped in for the remainder of the ride until they would be forced to stop and refill once more. A sideways glance out of her periphery was all it took to notice him sit there stiffly. A spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, sharp point included, ready to pierce and draw blood. His jaw clenching and unclenching, hands curling into fists on top of his spread thighs. 

“Need a smoke?” she whispered softly, nudging his shoulder with hers. 

“No,” he gruffed, staring straight ahead. The brim of his boonie hat slicing a shadow over his features, the dying light of the sun streaming in through the window glowed upon each ridged and furrowed line on his face, his hard features in stark relief.

“This wasn't your fault, John. Kate knows the risks that come with this job. Just like I do.” She placed her hand on top of his, her fingers entwining with his as his hand unfurled from a fist. “You can't be everywhere at once, my darling.”

“Could've done more,” he husked, the low rasp of calling out orders clenching at his throat.

“That's hindsight talking, and you know it. Besides, there’s no point in playing white knight over this, it’s not like you either.” She refrained from giving him the pointed look, the last thing he needed right now was a firm scolding when he was already beating himself up about a failure on his watch. “Laswell wouldn't appreciate being infantilized, like she's some bloody damsel in distress, and neither would I. She’d have your bloody guts for garters if she found out you were talking that way.” He leaned forward, forearms sliding to rest on his thighs, shoulders hunched. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows showed off each minute little flex of his tendons under the skin, and the hair there standing on end. “I’ll have that ciggy after all. If you’re still offerin’.”

“Course, love.” Pulling the case from her pocket, she pulled out two cigarettes and placed them both in her mouth at the same time. Fanning the flame of her lighter back and forth against the ends, they each sparked and she passed one to John. 

With the rush of nicotine hitting him, John raised up to sit straight in his seat once more with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t his usual Villa Clara, but much like Popeye and his spinach, it seemed to work wonders on him, returning him to full fighting form or at least a close approximation of it. “Best get in touch with Farah, start making plans.” Giving her a quick little pat on the shoulder, Price rubbed at the whiskers around his mouth before collecting his laptop once more, and connected via comms with the Commander of the ULF in Urzikstan. 

It never surprised her how quickly he could turn the stress on and off, how he could let it simmer below the surface on a slow boil until the time came when the heat was cranked to full and he would be ready to rain hell down upon whatever target it was intended for – be it ones that were armed, or a superior who thought they knew better. It’s what made him such a successful leader. So long as he wasn’t stressed, no one else had a reason to be. And John made a concerted effort never to let that show, no matter how high the stakes were. Even when the stakes included the life of someone he felt responsible for.

[roxanneslosteyes]

Spill thy nightmare mode backstories, mootie patootie

okay!!

I only got some (the rest of nightmares are backstories haven't been thought of yet)

Anyways you are going to hear me yap about these nightmares and their backstories! Anyways I hope you enjoy mootie! ^w^

Tw/cw: mentions of murder, death, brief mention of cannibalism, animal death, cheating and not super detail but mature/suggestive themes (For Zoth that is), implied racism

💀Yan Luo Wang Diyu's backstory🐉

Yan Luo Wang Diyu was born in a small unknown village in somewhere of Ancient China. Her mother was a mortal woman who fell in love with a man who was dragon shifter.

Yan Luo Wang Diyu only saw her father every night, the reason why was her mother being worried that villagers who are bad people would tell bad people about Yan's dad so they can harm him.

One night, A villager saw Yan's father in his dragon form. The villager was happy to see this so they told other villagers about Yan's dad. The villagers saw this as amazing sight to see.

However the rumour of the dragon got to dragon hunters from another country. The Dragon hunters learned Chinese before sailing to the village.

When they got there, the hunters talked to the villagers. The hunters lied to the villagers about how they were interested in the dragon. The villagers didn't think they were hunters so they told the hunters to follow the dragon at night.

The hunters stalked Yan's father to his house where his wife and daughter lived and broke in.

The hunters killed Yan's father in cold blood and cutted off his tail in front of his wife and daughter.

Yan's mother ran for the hills with their 12 year old daughter to keep her safe from the hunters.

Soon they met a hooded figure who saw the crying and stressed mother with her crying child. The stranger offered to help them if she explained what happened.

Yan's mother explained everything, she wanted her daughter to be safe.

The stranger told her "I will keep your daughter safe. However you can't come with me unless you are asleep. Even if you are asleep you can't stay. You are a mortal, my world doesn't accept mortals to live but to visit until they wake up. Your daughter is adragon shifter so she can live in my world."

The mother agreed and the stranger took Yan Luo Wang Diyu away from her mother to keep her safe. The stranger raised her like she was the Stranger's own flesh and blood.

Years later, Yan wanted revenge of her father's death so she hunted down the hunters and killed them in the same way they killed her father giving her the name "The Princess of death".

😇Quachil Uttaus's backstory👁

Quachil Uttaus was once an angel, a very young angel that was childish and naive

She was seen as the most of joyful angel of Heaven. Cheering up angels the best she can!

One angel of the Heavens gates told her she can't mess around with the humans or she will fall. The young angel agreed to this lesson and only went to humans to cheer them up or reward them for their good deeds.

One day, She met a group of kids. These kids were pranksters who enjoyed thr suffering of people with their cruel pranks.

Quachil didn't know they were cruel pranksters, the pranksters befriended her to take advantage of her angels powers.

They told her to play cruel pranks on the people using her angel powers in the name of "fun". They knew she was easy to lie too.

Quachil started to make people do horrible actions with her angel powers. She was causing misfortune to the humans.

The older angels found out about this, when Quachil Uttaus defended herself after knowing the truth. The older angels didn't believe her so she was kicked out of heaven and became trapped in a void world for over 200 years before a worm thing summoned her then leaving her with a vampire.

⚰️Nyogtha Z'Mog's backstory💀

Nyogtha was a human in the Victorian Era, Her real name was "Elizabeth Feathergill". Her family were getting on their feet after centuries of the dark history of their ancestors. Sadly Elizabeth's family had to change their names to "fit in the society" when Elizabeth was very young.

Her father was a musician while her mother was shopkeeper selling food she made or fruits and vegetables to sell. Her mother helped the poor children by giving them her food or fruits.

Her father sang his songs to people of the local places. People of his neighbourhood enjoyed his songs. While the upper classes looked at him disgusted and called him horrible things.

One day, Her mother and her father fell sick. Elizabeth looked after her parents until their last breath.

She knew how the world treated her so cruelty and her people. So she decided to become a undertaker, so she could protect her family or anyone like this after death so no one rob their graves.

People were uncomfortable with her being a Undertaker. One day, a man broke into the graveyard and decided to dig up an older man's grave. Elizabeth saw this and tried to stop him but he shot her. Elizabeth walked to her parents graves for safety until someone find her and get her help.

She sat by her parents graves with a bleeding gun wound. But help never came and she died by her parents graves. Her body got ripped apart by animals after she died.

soon she woke up in a strange world, she was so confused what happened. A elephant told her she is dead and she is in a realm to keep her soul safe. Nyogtha goes to the humans realm to help them bury their love ones because they trust her bury them instead of another human.

👻 Dagda Crom Cruach's backstory👻

Dagda was a just a normal scarecrow on a farm, but the farm had a dark secret. The farm was owned by a cannibal farmer who killed his victims in brutal ways relating to what farmers do.

One day, A couple thought they could have a make out session in the farm because they thought it was "run down". The bloodthirsty farmer found the couple and broke in the car. He grabbed the girlfriend and dragged her away. The boyfriend ran after the farmer and his love one.

But the farmer atabbed her to death with a scythe. The boyfriend ran through the corn fields while a bloodthirsty farmer with a pitch fork.

The boyfriend fell in front of Dagda. The farmer killed him with the pitch fork. The soul of the man went into the scarecrow.

Dagda became sentient due to the possession. Dagda doesn't remember anything of the human's soul past.

Years passed, Dagda was left to rot. Due to negative energy that was left by the farmer, his soul became corrupted.

Dagda started to scare humans who come to the old run down farm.

Dagda only got to Astral Circle thanks to Xezbet due to his interest of Dagda scaring humans. (They are best friends)

✨️Lilith Lilitu Lilit and Anazareth Anazarel backstory🥀

Anazareth and Lilith who was twins in medieval period, Anazareth's real name was "Anastasia" while Lilith's real name was "Lillian".

Lillian and Anastasia was secretly witches. Anastasia would cursed men who did horrible things to their children or to women while Lillian focused on witchcraft as a whole.

The twins came from a big family of witches. They wasn't the only witches in their family.

Soon, the village found out their secret and buried them alive in their cottage.

Lillian and Anastasia hated humans for what they done to them so they continue doing witchcraft against humanity for their sins.

🔪Orcus Dis Pater backstory🐰

Orcus was a mad inventor back in early 1900s. His real name was "Winston Afton"

He created crazy inventions that was literally death traps. Using humans and animals to be in these inventions causing them to die.

He didn't care, he thought they were too weak for his genius mind.

One day, he decided to jump into one of his old inventions which didn't go well and he well die. He thought he was too smart he couldn't die in his own creation which he did.

His creation ripped off his skin and he was nothing but a skinless man.

He woke up in the astral circle and the first thing he did was ask himself "why am I ourple" then forgetting about it before trying to find skin for himself. Orcus only has one brain cell now.

His silly behaviour drawn in Yan Luo Wang Diyu and the rest is history.

🔪Barbatos Barrabam's backstory💀

Barbatos was once a humanoid monster living in his cave with his mother, his father and little brother.

Barbatos and his family never hunted humans, they only hunted animals to feed on.

Barbatos taught his his little brother his hunting skills.

Near their cave, there was a village. Full of humans. The humans saw Barbatos and his family alot. They never wanted to go near him or his family as they were scared of him and his family.

One day, a man who was a famous monster hunter came to the village. He told the villagers he will slay the beasts so they will be free of the endless fear.

The hunter went to the cave with a bow and bag of arrows at the dead of night while barbatos and his family were sleeping.

The man killed his mother first then father then his little brother.

Barbatos woke up to the corpses of his family, At that moment he saw red. He rushed to village, killing everyone.

He grew a hatred of humanity for killing his family. His hatred lured in Exael, Exael felt bad for Barbatos. Exael took Barbatos to the astral circle and they both grew a brotherly bond.

🍷Yog Sothoth Backstory🫀

Yog was always a vampire, he was born a vampire to two vampires.

Yog grew up in a vampire court, he was raised there.

As he grew up, the more attractive he got. Female vampires were dropping at his knees like a fly.

He wasn't getting any human blood to survive off at that time because of the humans putting garlic at their homes

He decided to seduce lonely women, to get the blood he needed. He took advantage of his good looks.

he seduced women left and right to drink on their blood to survive

One day, the town found out about the dead women and decided to hunt Yog down. Lucky he got out unharmed thanks to a lady of the Pests.

🥀Ishtar Ereskigal backstory🪳

Ishtar was the daughter of a god and a monster. She never knew her mother nor did she know what happened to her. She was raised by a god of insects.

Her father was very neglectful of his daughter as he was rather fool around with mortal women and female monsters then look after his daughter

He trapped his daughter in a pit full of bugs so his goddess wife didn't know he had another monster bastard child.

Ishtar was raised by a bug monster, the bug monster taught her everything she needed to know to be a lady of Pests.

Ishtar befriended bugs and animals who were seen as gross.

She slowly broke out of her prison thanks to her new friends. To show the world her powers however the humans found her scary and scared her away

Ishtar hidden in the shadows until a witch came along and took her to Astral Circle to have a better life.

🔪Abducius Morail backstory🫀

Abducius has always been a sadistic masochist. He loved hurting people because he gets off to it.

He was always been crazy ever since childhood or that what he says, he always put himself in danger. There is no explanation for his behaviour at the moment because he doesn't like talking about his past.

🪱Zoth Ommog💀

Zoth was once a human, he was a cult leader for multiple horror gods and goddesses back in Ancient times.

Zoth was known to be a very lustful man, sleeping around with women and men, cheating on his ex wives he had and fooling around.

His real name is unknown, he always called himself "Zoth". He even fooled around with humanoid monsters.

He was good friends with Yog.

Zoth also knocked up multiple women so he has multiple children.

One night, his first ex wife killed him in his sleep out of revenge for cheating. She also cursed him to be a worm thing to reflect hid gross lifestyle

and Zoth became a worm.

[elchatojay88]

At age 35 I should know better than to fall in love.

I guess since I never experienced true love I was curious to experience it before I die.

Except that it is just an illusion. It’s a series of chemical bonds and reactions that make us act all discombobulated and not think clearly.

The purpose of love is survival. Form relationships that will help you sail through life easier and that will benefit you in some way.

It’s not smart to form bonds where you’re the one that’s constantly doing all the giving, because then eventually you are left with nothing and nobody is gonna want to give you when you have nothing left to give in return.

Some people understand this concept at a young age, then there are those like me who are not blessed. Who don’t attract people always wanting to take care of them. To treat them. To help them. To look for them.

There are those like me who have to struggle everyday just to get by with nobody else’s help.

That is why god gave me my parents because he knew I was gonna need the most help I could get. The most support. Because I was born without grace. Without charm to win people over. Or the looks to get people to want to be with me.

All my life I have wanted to be part of the “hot people club”. I want to look good. I want to be wanted and desired. And instead of being one of them i just continuously got used by them.

Same goes for relationships. My current boyfriend is 20 years old who cannot visit the US and who cannot afford to give me anything. Half of his salary goes to his parents for rent money and the other half he spends on items that he wants.

He expects me to go visit him again and spend another $3,000 and him probably $200 euros if I’m lucky. I have low key invested a lot in this man and only because he gave me the attention, the time, the devotion

But it seems as though I was just a special type of conquest for him. He wanted to take pride in the fact that I fell for him and that I actually took a trip across the world to to see him.

I can see clearly he controls and manipulates his friends. He takes great pride in this. But he’s very good at keeping it subtle. He acted like he didn’t want me to spend money. And complained about not having any when we hung out, but yet he bought himself an $800 computer. And also the ps5. And went on clothes shopping sprees.

And I can clearly see that my relationship with him is going to be solely comprised of me investing all of my money. All of my efforts to be with him and make him happy.

And his money is gonna go to him. For his things. And once we get married, forget about it. He’s gonna claim ownership to everything you own.

You think he’s controlling now, wait and see. Domenico is not the man you thought he was. He’s not some poor innocent boy, he’s lived. And he’s lived HARD, that’s why he doesn’t talk about his past. He’s hiding something. Something very dark, and doesn’t want you to know about it.

He wants to trap me. And I think I’m smart enough to not let it happen. I’m a smart man. Even though I let my fear take over about 80% of the time, my intuition. My blood line tells me when someone is trying to fuck me over. I can feel it in my blood.

I’m not going to be his victim. He’s gonna be stressing over me, not the other way around. And I gotta find someone who is going to be able to give something to my life. Not just take.

[callophelia-ailingamnemonic]

Persona 5 Tactica revived the Persona 5 fan in me and now I'm making it everyone's problem by rambling about this original Persona story idea I made some time ago

It's just as the title of this post says: I watched a playthrough of Persona 5 Tactica and fell in love with the Persona franchise again which sort of reignited my will to think about this original Persona story idea I've been cooking for some time now.

I call this story "Persona Crossroads" (title still work in progress)

The gist of it is that after the P5 cast's journeys, the real world has been merged with the Cognitive World so many times that the barriers between the two have become fatally weakened. This becomes a problem when humanity begins wishing once more, hoping and praying that they could become the heroes of their journeys, to embark on a great adventure, and to live in a world, unlike the one they live in now. This wish ended up creating a being known as Anansi, a non-malevolent deity who decides to assign themself the role of narrator, who creates another being named Eris to be the evil to oppose humanity.

As Eris does in Greek Mythology, this Eris creates sheer c h a o s. I don't have all the details yet, but what I have so far is that the wildcard of this journey and their team go to Eris' realm with the help of all the previous persona users to fight her off and return the world to normal, except this ends up being a trap that results in the Real World and the Cognitive World to be merged into one once more and there's nothing any of them can do about it as people get attacked by shadows on the streets.

One of these people getting attacked turns out to be the current wildcard's younger sibling who- in a twist of fate, awakens to her own persona! Except it's not a mythological figure or a character from literature! It's... Raiden Ei? As in the dango-loving Electro Archon from the video game 'Genshin Impact'??? (Originally I was gonna make it Bayonetta, and then I was going to make it Venti, but Ei made more sense for her) which is kind of funny since not long ago, the wildcard's own persona evolved into the rumoured Raiden Makoto from the same game... and then they have an epiphany or something where they realise that there's no way to separate the Cognitive World and the Real World at this point in time and the only way they can pull it off is to wait for the people's wish of peace and normalcy to become strong enough to summon another god to help them separate the two worlds. So what the Wildcard does next is put their sibling into a Sleeping Beauty-esque sleep where they will awaken once the time to reach out to this new god is right.

All of that... was just backstory stuff lol. The real story doesn't take place until... like... 200 years later. In the future, being a persona user that fights shadows is basically a profession now... albeit a bit of a rare one since it's still uncommon for people to awaken to one, so instead of opening schools solely dedicated to training persona users, pre-existing schools will offer Persona Programs to newly awakened Persona users to teach them the ropes.

One such school, Kousaten High, end up being the ones to find the new wildcard's body and once they awaken (with amnesia for plot convenience), they are enrolled into the school's Persona Program where shenanigans ensue.

The funkiest part about it all is that because their story takes place in the future, all the characters' personas are characters from modern media lol

I'll probably talk about the story idea more later lol

[lesbiansforboromir]

"Yet even so it was Gondor that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed. 

 'Death was ever present, because the Numenoreans still, as they had in their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. 

  Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars. And the last king of the line of Anarion had no heir." 

Faramir's explanation for Gondor's ‘decline’ is... incoherent.. what the hell are you on about m’love?

The way this reads is so completely misleading when looking at the actual history and reasons for Gondor's receding borders and the loss of the watch on Mordor. Faramir puts the onus on Gondorian Kings wanting to live longer and not having kids... babe? Did you forget... the plague? Gondor WAS watching for activity in Mordor. For 1640 years! And then there was a plague so devastating that it turned the country’s most populous city into a near ghost town. It took 200 years for Gondor to recover, and even then it never truly reached the population levels it had maintained before. Osgiliath was never the same! And by then Mordor had taken the fortresses at the Morannon! 

There is absolutely no mention of Kings or Stewards who were desperately seeking to extend their life in Gondor’s history. Where are these tombs more splendid than the houses of the living? All the Kings not buried in Osgiliath are buried in the Silent Street... There is no mention of achingly elaborate tombs anywhere! 

There WERE however some Kings who did not marry or have children! ... Two, there were just two of them... out of thirty three. Narmacil I was Atanatar's son and reigned in the HEIGHT of Gondor's wealth. He essentially allowed his nephew Minalcar to run the country whilst he had a great time writing poetry and kissing men. And Minalcar did a really good job! He fought wars, he made alliances, he built the Argonath and when it actually came around to his time to be King, he had a nice and peaceful reign! And when his son Valacar wanted to marry a Northern Princess? Even though the worry in Gondor was that that would ‘weaken’ the King’s line and reduce their lifespan? He supported him! Gave his blessing! 

The other King who never married or had any children was Earnur! You all remember Earnur? Oh sure, he desperately wanted to extend HIS life past its natural limits! Fighting in two wars and then riding off into an obvious trap just because he'd been challenged really gives me a whole 'old man in his dotage fears death' vibe. And that was the ‘last king of the line of Anarion who had no heir’. You know WHY he was the last king? Because the King before his father Earnil II (King Ondoher) and his two sons had died! In a massive fuckall war with the Balchoth that nearly saw Gondor destroyed! PRINCE Faramir was TOLD to stay behind! But he was so anxious for his family and so wished to not simply sit and wait for death that he HID amongst the ranks of the Eotheod and went to war anyway!! AND DIED!! Asking questions of the stars??? Making strange elixirs?? Mused uselessly on heraldry??? WHEN? FARAMIR?? Was Ondoher daydreaming about stars and heraldry as he was cut down by a chariot??? Was Artamir brewing potions mid-battle?? WHAT are you talking about!!!

Where are these men fearing death who brought Gondor into it's decline that Faramir is talking about? Is he lying? No, I actually believe Faramir when he says he would not even snare an orc in a falsehood. The things Faramir says are things he believes. But then how, when he is so well known for his loremastership, can he be so misleading and plain wrong about something so basic to Gondorian history? Well I have a suggestion but it means Faramir’s at least a little homophobic so bear with me and I promise this is relevant.

So, obviously, the ups and downs of Gondor society in terms of queer liberation would be complex and rely upon a diverse number of factors. However, I’d say that, if you looked at an overall trend, it goes up in times of peace and takes a hit during times of strife. The basic reasoning for this is that one of the fundamentals of Gondorian society is the concept of doom and fate. This can give both correct and erroneous impressions of cause and effect throughout history. Gondorians tend to believe everything happens for a reason. And due to the (sometimes quiet but always present) elf-and-faithful-numenorean-ruled thinkers, who push ideas of proper marriage, celebacy, romance-superiority and other cis-het-normative agendas, the ‘reason’ that bad things happen is often blamed on the queer liberation of the times. The populace is open to being given reasons for bad things happening and Academia in Gondor is very much elf-revering, so it is often respected scholars who are pushing that narrative. 

HOWEVER, the queerness is rarely what is actually remembered or recorded in history, the wording of records are often bound up in the faithful numenorean rhetoric of ‘heretical kings’ and ‘they fell into the trap of king’s men ideology’ and so on and so forth. Scholars might understand what this means at the time, but it gets muddled further down the road and even academics in the future have trouble finding the intended emphasis. So! By the time we reach 3018 TA, the academic community as a whole has reached a general consensus that ‘the old sins of our past’ are to blame and that, whilst queerness was a part of it, it was more a symptom than a direct cause. 

So! The thought process I’m proposing for Faramir should be easy to guess at now, but I’m going to go more specific for the sake of... me uwu. 

GONDOR has not known peace for the last 500 years, not since Steward Denethor the first’s reign wherein the so called ‘watchful peace’ ended and Sauron returned to Mordor. NOW, before Denethor, his uncle Dior was the Steward and, as you’ve probably guessed, he had no children and nor did he marry. I would suggest that Dior lived through one of the most tolerant and open portions of Gondor’s history. I think he not only was open about his choice not to marry, but he also had a socially accepted partner and lived with him all his life with only a small, vocal minority voicing their objections. 

But then Sauron returned! And it was brutal, bloody and horrific. And that vocal minority saw an opportunity to use Dior’s life as a method to push Gondor once again into it’s regular crisis of conscience, faith and purpose. ‘We betrayed our founder’s’ and ‘We should have been ruled by Dior’s son but because of his weakness against his ill-fate we are doomed, he abandoned his duty! A pitiful fate but pitiful for us as well!’ And so on and so forth, there are reems of academic works written about it.

Now, this doesn’t have an immediate crushing effect on queer rights that one might fear. Denethor I loved his uncle dearly and would not hear a bad word about him, as did Boromir I! And Cirion? Cirion was almost more alternative than Dior. He sold off portions of land when the Stewards had been told to keep them IN TRUST for the king’s return. He made enduring and reciprocal alliances with the Eotheod ‘middle men’, he was very much anti-traditionalist! However, it was after his reign that Gondor truly felt the backlash of all this, spurred on by Cirion’s very alternative views, actions and methods. Because whilst he may have been an effective and charismatic Steward, Cirion had not found so much time to be a good father. And Hallas had been fifteen when his father had left him behind and ridden to war. He had a frightening and lonely childhood and was very open to the idea that his father was wrong, had gone too far, that things should be ‘brought back to normal’. Stability being key and all. The vocal minority had his ear. 

And since then, whilst opinion has still fluctuated, the constant unrest and simmering crisis of Gondor’s day to day has made progress against such concepts difficult and slow going. And it’s informed the opinion of history too, a lot more academic writing has compared Dior to Narmacil I (the first unwed and unmarried King) and has tried to find parallels between them and Earnur. Any explicit discussion of queerness has been relegated to Sindarin scripts (the language only really understood by academics and the upper classes), but the underlying tone is there HENCE! 

“falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep“ = Dior ‘abandoned his duty’ and Narmacil I ‘was indolent’.

“the Numenoreans still [-] hungered after endless life unchanging.” = A melding of heretical beliefs that occurred over centuries into one monolith that applied longing for endless life automatically.

“Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; [-] compounded strong elixirs, [-] asked questions of the stars.” = This is all both reaching back to heretical practices in Numenor, whilst also harkening back to the periods of time in which Dior and Narmacil lived, peaceful times where more introspective and experimental pursuits could be indulged. 

SO! This is where Faramir’s erroneous and misleading opinions come from. And why he is at least a little homophobic. There, I told you all I’d get there. 

[fanfiction-funtime]

Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka

AKA: Eis Cay'zar

Author of fate

A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.

_____________________

Physical description:

A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.

He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.

Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.

At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.

_____________________

Abilities:

Weapon type: Catalyst

Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.

"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"

Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)

"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"

Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.

"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"

Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:

"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.

"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"

"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.

"Meet my penultimate friend"

"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.

"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"

"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.

"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"

"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.

"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"

"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.

"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"

The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.

"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"

"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.

"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"

"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."

Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.

_____________________

Story

Abandoning a dream

As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.

He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.

Horrible truth

He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.

Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.

Those who fight

One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.

With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.

In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.

Stop the presses

When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.

Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.

Deus ex Vodka

One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.

That was until Alexander came along.

Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.

And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.

And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,

And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.

Vision: cold hearted

While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.

He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:

He imagined.

And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.

For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.

For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.

And at the end, he lied down to die.

Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.

But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"

He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.

Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.

"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.

"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"

"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."

The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"

Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.

"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."

_____________________

How is this an insert?

Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.

His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.

Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.

Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.

_____________________

Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm

[dude1818]

Part two of my Gideon the Ninth reread liveblog. First adventures in Canaan House.

Far away its king and emperor sat on his seat of office and waited, a sentinel protecting his home but never able to return to it. The Lord of the House of the First was the Lord Undying, and he had not come back in over nine thousand years.

We learn in book two that it's because of the Resurrection Beasts. Even when Cytherea explains that her plan was to get the Emperor back to the First House, I don't think it was ever explained why that was such a bad thing.

All the other shutters were closed up tight and had been for most of the trip, which had taken about an hour of rapid travel.

Just casual FTL travel in-system. My main issue with this series is how terrible Muir is with astronomical distances. It's not that hard to look up how far apart things are! Same with the location of the Mithraeum; why is it outside of the fricking visible universe?

[Teacher's robes] looked as though they had been made a thousand years ago and kept in loving perfection. Everything about him was ageless and pristine.

Oh, foreshadowing.

“I only count six shuttles,” said Gideon.

The only time anyone has ever been able to count in this series. Teacher's follow-up comment that they don't like discrepancies should also be a big red flag for, like, everything. How many keys? How many Beasts? No one ever knows.

[Protesilaus] was staring at Gideon emptily.

I forgot where I read this analysis first, but Gideon describes Pro the same way she describes Harrow's parents. And yet it's very Gideon that her only conclusion is "I could take him."

Then in the very next scene with the tea, the only people who don't drink are Harrow (who only drinks lukewarm water), Pro, and the priests. In fact:

[Teacher] was eager, interested, vital, alive. The penitent calm of his fellows made them seem more like the robed skeletons arrayed at the sides of the room: silent and immovable, with a red speck of light dancing in each socket.

(quote break)

Gideon watched, paralysed, as one of the very expensive shuttles fell hugely and silently over the landing platform: it dropped like a suicide and seemed to hang, grey and shining, in the air. Then it fell from sight. To its left, another; farther left, another. The scraping ceased. Skeletal feet pattered away.

I assumed, as I expect Muir wanted, that it was Teacher who directed the skeletons to scuttle the ships. Part of the whole mystery of Lyctorhood. But it was probably actually Cytherea, huh, who wanted to ensure everyone remained trapped in here with her.

“I think,” the bright twin was saying, “that it’s a hell of a lot better than sticking us in a room and playing who’s the best necromancer? Or worse—loading us up with old scrolls and having us translate rituals for hours and hours on end.”

“Yes, it would have been unfortunate,” agreed her sister placidly, “considering it would have demonstrated within the first five minutes that you’re completely thick.”

Again, a major twist laid out plain as day, but hidden in totally believable sibling dialogue. Corona and Ianthe can make as much fun of each other as they want, but Naberius needs to shut his trap. Also this, when Ianthe spots Gideon:

“I would not attract attention from the necromancer of the Third House.”

Note the singular.

Gideon looked down. She looked at her rapier, pointed skyward like a black arrow.

I love how horny Gideon is for Dulcinea. I'm so sad she never met the real Dulcie, because I think they would still absolutely have a ball together.

Did we ever get an explanation for why Palamedes's attempts to determine the age of Canaan House gave such wildly different results?

“A head start,” said her necromancer, “is the only advantage one can claim by choice. My other advantage is in workforce.”

People have made good points about Harrow recording the 200+ doors in the first night, although it's worth pointing out that she had skeletons doing a lot of the searching too.

[queenlists]

Stay

Request: A ghost!Dandy mott x reader (where he walks the old run down Freakshow grounds) bored and lonely until the reader shows up having bought the land and he takes a liking to them! - ANON

Post Date: 06/15/2020

Word Count: 1328

A/N: We’re almost at 200 which is unbelievable. I can not thank you all enough! Also, thank you to the anon who requested this fic. I really hope you all enjoy this ✌ masterlist

"It was cruel.

They are cruel.

They are all cruel for what they have done to me.

I pleaded. I screamed. I begged.

They didn't let up.

Instead, they all watched.

They watched the water rise and consume me.

I thought they'd let me go.

I'm rich. I could've given them money..not that I would have, but I could have.

'You suck! You all suck! You're all peasants. Freaks. You're nothing and that's all you will ever be!' I screamed over and over again until my throat felt raw. Rubbing my throat, I swallowed a sob as I walked around the abandoned Freakshow grounds. Who knew your throat could hurt in the afterlife?

When I passed away, I was greeted by the others. The ones I killed right here in cold blood. They said nothing, but they smiled and walked away. They walked towards this beautiful bright light. I watched as the light welcomed them and so I ran. I didn't want to be stuck here, so I ran and ran as fast as I could but before I could make it the light was gone and so were they.

I screamed 'I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!' until I tired and still the light never came back. I was completely alone. I am completely alone," Dandy sighed as he plopped down on an old bench with his head hung low "And scene. Good job, Dandy! You're the best actor in the whole world. Here's a new car, a new mansion, and your very own statue!" Dandy clapped as he gave himself a standing ovation.

There was no one else around for him to perform this to. There was no one to talk to. No one else around for him to touch or even to look at. It was just him, wandering the old Freakshow ground as he performed the same monologue over and over again. Hoping and wishing someone or something would accompany him soon.

Dandy heard the sound of a car pull up, followed by a door slam and gentle footsteps. "Yeah, I'm looking at it right now! There's so much work that still needs to be done, but it's very promising!" Dandy's heart raced as he followed the voice. His shoes crunched the gravel beneath his feet as he walked towards the person.

"The construction crew won't be here until next week, so I'm going to try to get some things done...No I didn't get a hotel room, but there's plenty of trailers here...It's abandoned, not haunted!...Oh, very funny! If I see some ghosts, you'll be the first to know. Goodbye. I love you," the person hung up the phone, shoving it into her back pocket. She twirled around, looking at every little thing. Her eyes eventually landed on Dandy. She smiled as she stepped closer "I'm definitely keeping you around!" Dandy grinned, but before he could open his mouth, she walked right through him and picked up an old vase. His smile twisted into a scowl as he watched the woman dust off the vase, admiring it in his hands. "What about me?" Dandy screamed, but she continued on. "Why can't you hear me?!" Dandy kicked at the ground, sending rocks flying.

"Ouch! What the hell?" the woman gasped, turning around. Dandy gulped as he stared at her with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I'm getting a hotel room!"

Y/N'S POV

Maybe it was haunted.

Maybe there are some souls here that are trapped.

There's no way I was hit by rocks from the wind..there wasn't even any wind!

I ran a hand through my hair as I carefully walked around the old grounds.

"Hello?" I called out.

No one answered.

"Hello?" I called out again, but louder.

No one answered.

"This is beginning to feel like a horrible start to a horror movie," I muttered to myself. "Hello? I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw rocks at me. Who's out there?"

Nothing. No one answered.

I shuddered as a cold chill ran down my spine.

"I'm going to ask one more time. Wh-" 

"Can you hear me now?" A man's voice boomed in my ear causing me to jump. The vase slipped out of my hands and landed into another's. I stared at the hands holding the vase until I mustered enough courage to look the person in the eyes. I gulped as my eyes trailed from the hands, up the arms, past the shoulders, and to the face..the oddly handsome face.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dandy Mott and I own this facility,"

DANDYS POV

I could tell that she was frightened. Who wouldn't be? I was expecting her to run, but I hoped she would stay.

Her big (e/c) eyes stared at me. I could see her body begin to shake. Clearing my throat, I smirked "Nice to meet you. I'm Dandy Mott and I own this facility,"

"But you don't," She squeezed her eyebrows together as she looked at me, her body relaxing. "I do. This is my freakshow!" I was taken aback as she grabbed the vase from my hands without a thank you. "This is a county fair in the making. The freakshow was closed before I was even born,"

The woman looked me up and down with concern as air caught in my throat. "How..how l-long have I been de-dead?" I stammered, holding my chest as I began to take notice of all of the changes that I hadn't noticed before.

Everything was gone except the trailers. There were tire marks all over the grounds. The grass had grown so tall. Even the smell of circus food was gone. "This..I wasn't..This.." I couldn't think straight as everything around me changed suddenly. I imagined everything was the same and yet everything had changed around. "Hey, take a deep breath!" She went to touch me, but her hand went through me. "How can I breathe when I'm dead?" I yelled at her causing her to jump back. I remembered the pain I caused others by the way I spoke to them. The last thing I wanted was for her to leave.

Before I could do anything, to my surprise, she began to laugh "You're right. I just keep forgetting, you're dead! It's not something I deal with on a daily basis," I smiled as she continued to laugh. Her laugh flowed through my ears similar to that symphony I would go to every year but better. Ten times better. "Come with me. I'll show you around," I held out my hand with a gentle smile. A smile remained on her face even after she was done laughing. She looked from my hand to my eyes "I'd love that, Dandy" 

I hissed in air as I didn't know if her hand would go through mine again. It felt like slow motion the way she reached for my hand. Butterflies flew in my stomach as tears slid down my face once her warm hand gently touched my cold skin. Her fingers intertwined with mine, fitting perfectly "Let's go,"

We walked hand in hand throughout the grounds. I talked to her about what used to be here and what I had done. Even through my darkest memories, her gentle eyes never left mine and her smile never faded.

It was nightfall before we both knew it. We laid together in a dusty old bed that she threw a stray blanket from her car over. It smelled of beautiful flowers, something I hadn't smelled in forever. She talked about herself and showed me what the internet was. We talked until she fell asleep right in my arms.

Maybe the light that took the others left me here, so I could meet my own light. A light that I would have never met had I changed a single thing.

I pressed my lips against her ear, closing my eyes.

"Please stay forever,"

[a-mythical-lady]

Books and me.

14 years ago

(Age: 7)

It was bedtime and maa had just made my bed when I heard the front door open. Papa was home from work and I could hear bhai running to see papa and tell him random stuff. I bet papa listened to everything, despite being tired. After that, he came to my room, "Look what I got you" he said, and extended a book to me. I was confused as he had never brought me a book before. It was a book called Panchatantra. A story of an old rishi who gives life lessons to his five shishyas at the gurukul through stories about nature and animals. I was excited about getting my first book and begrudgingly, maa let me stay up later than usual. That night, sprawled on my bed, I was entranced and fascinated by all the different stories and scenes and talking animals. The next morning, I woke up by myself and finished the entire book by noon.

The next thing I know, I'm collecting comics and storybooks and getting addicted to them. Piling up tinkle comics, Archie's and Amar Chitra Katha was my only goal. Every train journey to my native place involved dragging papa to the railway station bookstore and getting myself a comic book for the train ride. I begged my parents to subscribe to storybooks along with the daily morning newspaper, and they relented after a lot of coaxing. Then, every Monday morning I'd wait eagerly for the newspaper boy to deliver my weekly dose of happiness with books of chacha Choudary, chandamama, and champak. Soon, this became an obsession that even my parents started noticing. Maa began hiding my copies of storybooks during the exams and giving them back only after all my exams were done. I began pestering papa to get me more and more books every day. Sometimes he would get me a double digest edition of tinkle and I'd be ecstatic and over the moon. It's amazing how something so small and silly used to make me so happy. I'd re-read the same books once I'd gone through my entire stash of new books. Out of desperation, I'd read anything I could lay my hands on. In school, we used to get all our term textbooks a month before the reopening of a new academic year and my English textbooks fell prey to this obsession of mine. I'd know all the lessons and stories by heart before the school year started. I think that was one of the reasons for the nerd label I got in school. I even started reading stories from the Bible, borrowing storybooks from another girl in my neighborhood. Little did I know that this was only the beginning.

10 years ago

(Age: 11)

One fine summer afternoon, bhai was busy watching tv in the living room and maa and papa were at work. We had free rein on the tv as it was the summer holidays and I had free rein on my books. I was lazing around in my room and started searching the entire house for something new to read. And finally, I found a book among bhai's things. It was probably a gift. It wasn't a comic book or a usual storybook. This one was an actual book. A novel. And it had no pictures. I was skeptical but boredom got the best of me and I decided to read a few pages to pass the time. It was a hardy boys book, written by Franklin W Dixon. After reading a few pages, my 11-year-old brain almost exploded with fascination. The style of writing, the mystery, the suspense of the entire book drew me in completely and I knew then, this was a turning point in my life where books are concerned. I felt almost grown-up. And so I read the 200 page novel with wide eyes and a bursting heart in 3 hours, without even getting up to pee. I went and told bhai about the new book I read. He laughed it off. I told maa and papa when they came back from work. "That's good beta", they said. I was disappointed that they didn't feel the same exhilaration that I did. Papa still got my books whenever I asked him. For the second time, I found myself collecting and piling up books. All of the hardy boys and Nancy drew collections. Once again, I was entranced, trapped yet alive like never before in a whole new world.

After that, a multitude of options lay before me. I dived headfirst into reading mystery and moved onto classics written by Charles Dickens, The Bronté sisters, Mary Shelly, and even a dash of Shakespeare. I fell in love with David Copperfield, Oliver twist, treasure island, Jane Eyre and Frankenstein.

But eventually, buying books so often became a chore and at the pace I was reading, with one book hardly lasting a day, we couldn't afford to buy as many books. So, then one day, maa and I set out on a goose chase all over the city looking for libraries where I could borrow books from. At last, we found an old government library inside an even older building that looked almost haunted. And as we bravely stepped into the barely holding up building, we only found old uncles reading newspapers and gossiping. Thankfully, there was a rack of English fiction. Just one single rack. Although mildly disappointed, I was determined to make do with that. I got myself a membership plan and my reading palette had its first taste of Indian authors. That one rack had a fair collection of young adult books, standalone contemporary novels which sated my hunger for quite some time. While other people gushed over my habit of reading books, my parents were a little concerned. But as I started writing my own speeches in school, improved in my speaking skills, I'm sure they were convinced and over time, I think they accepted this obsession of mine. Or at the very least, were forced to.

6 years ago.

(Age: 15)

My love for reading only grew and now I had a book beside me during breakfast, lunch, and dinner which my parents barely tolerated. I even started planting a book in every corner of my house for easy access, under the coffee table, by my bed, on my study table. While kids my age sneaked mobile phones under their pillows, I sneaked in books to read.

After a few years, I finally met a kindred spirit with a shared love for reading. He was older than me and introduced me to books by Dan Brown. I listened with rapt attention to the plot of the book and I immediately knew that my days of reading hardy boys and young adult books were over. It's crazy how transitioning between genres and different types of books made me feel older and mature over the years. Few pages into the Da Vinci code and I fell, hook, line, and sinker. I finished the entire 500-page book in a day. Back then, I was pretty adamant about having my own copies of books and collecting them, which I guess stemmed from my childhood obsession with collecting comics. Soon, I'd exhausted the books at the old library and had no other option but to trade in my precious books for second-hand books at a wholesale book store very far away from home. Because they were at a secondhand rate, I could now afford more books and although the pages were worn out and yellowed, I was happy. The already folded pages, notes in the corners of some pages jotted down by the previous owner made me feel oddly connected and attached.

Present-day

(Age: 21)

As I grew up and left my teenage years behind, life and boards got in my way and there were gaps when I couldn't read no matter how hard I tried. But once I found my way back to books. I knew what I was missing and knew that I would never stop reading again. I still read books by Dan Brown, Sydney Sheldon, and Nora Roberts. I found quite a few talented Indian authors. Books by Durjoy Dutta and Ravinder Singh made me fall in love with contemporary romance and light humor. I've moved on to reading books on my phone now. I miss turning pages of an actual book, but on the bright side, I get to read countless books anytime and anywhere I want. I've explored many genres over the years, murder and crime thrillers, romance, contemporary, dark fiction, and comedy, and read them accordingly when the mood strikes.

If there's one thing that has been a constant through my childhood, it has been books. Reading is a huge part of my life and very close to my heart. Words and writing mean so much to me. Books have been my solace, my safe place, my companions as I grew up, my fantasy land, and my hiding place all rolled into one. I've cried, loved, smiled, and laughed with books and I can't describe how utterly grateful I am to maa and papa for getting me my first book when I was just 7 and letting me explore my love for reading.

Although, there's one thing I'd like to admit. There's this one genre that I've never read - non-fiction and strangely, I'm still very skeptical about it. But you never know, over time I might come to like that as well!

MAJ

[oswildin]

The War Within ~ Dhawan!Master x F!Reader

Request: Hi, an awkward bean here. But what about a TimeLady!Reader saving Dhawan!Master from that Green dimension thing. Perhaps the Master had feeling for her, yet never knew she had survived. Maybe she had a perception filter on and finally found the master having been looking for him cause she too has feelings for him. Hehe. ( @drapetxmaniia )

Summary: (Y/N) was a Timelord. She’d ran away, searching for her friends, but when she returned, her home was burnt. She knew she needed to find her friends.

Warnings: Angst and a bit of sadness.

(Y/N) had survived the destruction of Gallifrey. She had to watch her home burn. She mourned her planet, a fire within her burning as she felt rage. Rage against whoever had done it. She knew of the two Timelords that had ran away from Gallifrey. The Doctor and The Master. In fact she knew more than of them. She was their friend. Well, was.

She was more a friend to the Master, as she’d know him longer. The Doctor had ran away long before the Master followed suit. She always knew he was unpredictable. He was almost unhinged at times. It started ever since he looked into the time vortex. The drums.

She tried her best to be there for him, but it was hard. He was aggressive, spontaneous (in a bad way) and crazed. But she couldn’t help but still try. Try to make him better. She eventually fell for the fellow Timelord. She knew nothing could ever happen. He didn’t have interest in relationships. Friendship or romantic. He would say he only needed himself.

Then he left. He left her behind, disappearing from their home without a word. She somewhat resented him for it, but understood. He couldn’t stay in the place that had created him. She dreaded to think what he’d been doing over the decades. The war between the Daleks and Timelords began, ending in destruction everywhere. There were tales of how The Doctor saved them from the war, locking them away in another dimension, safe from harm but also trapped from the rest of the universe.

However, it seemed the Timelords only grew angrier, more reckless. They felt powerless, which led to utter chaos. The founding fathers started to do things that were unthinkable. They began to turn against their own. Wars were erupting around the planet. Timelords fighting Timelords. Their population was slowly dwindling. (Y/N) knew she needed to find the Doctor and the Master. They were the only two she knew could stop the madness.

So there she was; travelling the universe in a TARDIS she stole. Isn’t that how all great stories started?

She’d been able to trace the Doctors steps easily. She wasn’t exactly discreet. Any sign of trouble, she would be there. But the Master on the other hand...

Last she had heard he was dead. She didn’t believe it. It wasn’t in his nature to stay dead. He always somehow managed to survive.

So she kept searching. Hoping.

(Y/N) had decided to go home, try to find out more from the founding fathers, seeing if they could use them to track down the Master. But when she had arrived... her whole planet had been destroyed. Fires were lit, buildings had fallen... there was no sign of life.

That’s when (Y/N) had decided to go after the Doctor. If she couldn’t find the Master then at least she could find the Doctor. Her TARDIS had brought her to a bunker on Earth in England. Her ship disguised itself as a small brick building next to the bunker. She stepped out seeing the planes on the runway. Then she heard voices, and yelling. She quickly ran towards the bunkers entrance, peaking round the corner, seeing the Doctor and her companions with a man who felt familiar. They were surrounded by creatures that shone bright.

The Doctor played a recording of the mans voice back to him, as the man seemed to look disappointed, and annoyed. The next thing she knew the man had disappeared with the creatures, leaving the others alone.

“What happened? Where’d the Master go?”

One of the humans asked, causing (Y/N) to look surprised. The Master? He was the Master?!

She instantly ran back to her TARDIS, scanning the area the creatures had just been, trying to find an energy source or remnants of where they had come from. Finally she locked onto something, pulling a lever as her ship took off.

The TARDIS jolted as she landed. She quickly ran to the door, opening it as she was met with a dark, desolate place. She looked round, feeling her senses going off the charts. The energy was unbearable. She stepped out, walking forward, eyes searching wildly.

Suddenly, she was attacked from behind as a hand covered her mouth. She tried to get the persons hand off of them as she kicked behind her, causing the person to hiss in pain and loosen their grip. She took it as an advantage as she elbowed them in the side, managing to slip away from their grip. She grabbed a device from her jacket, aiming it at the man as he did the same. She narrowed her eyes, before realising who it was.

“Master?” She questioned, still holding her device in his direction. The Master titled his head slightly, wondering how the woman knew his name.

“How do you know who I am?” He asked, his voice low. She shook her head, lowering her device.

“Don’t you recognise me?” She raised a brow. “I know I’ve changed a bit but, come on.” She laughed lightly. “Thought Timelords were meant to recognise each other.” He narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“The Timelords are dead.” He hissed, stepping towards her.

“And yet, here we are.” She swallowed hard, looking at him in the eye as he slowly lowered his device.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, brows furrowed. She smiled at the man.

“Bout time.” She folded her arms. “Thought I was gonna have to get the photo albums out to remind you.”

The Masters features softened as he realised who she was. He blinked a few times, shaking his head.

“How did you survive?” He asked, looking her up and down.

“I ran away.” She replied shortly. “But you know Gallifrey has been burned.” She told him, walking back towards her ship, which had disguised itself as one of the bizarre wire/chord looking things. “We need to find who did it.” She entered her ship, the Master hesitantly following. He felt his hearts racing as she spoke. He didn’t know how to tell her, he was the one to destroy their home.

“I ran away, trying to find you and the Doctor.” She told him, as he entered her ship. “Chaos was starting to erupt in the city. Then the whole planet. Wars broke out between our people.” She shook her head at the memory. “They turned on each other.” She stopped, looking over at the man, whose eyes were soft.

“How did you know where I was?” The Master asked, raising a brow.

“I have my ways.” She responded shortly. She seemed colder than he remembered. He remembered her being full of life, loud, bubbly... the woman stood before him was different. She was colder, more stern, rarely wore a smile.

“How long has it been?” The Master inquired, walking towards her.

“I stopped counting.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Wasn’t important anymore.” She looked over at him. She couldn’t help her feel her hearts race at the sight of him. Little did she know, she felt the same. “Why did you never come home?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I was there.” She furrowed her brows. “I waited. Every day I wondered if you would show up. And when the wars began...” She shook her head, looking down. “For some reason I hoped it was you that had started one. Just so I could see you. My friend.” She pulled the lever, the TARDIS beginning to disappear into the vortex.

“I’m sorry.” He told her sincerely, grabbing her arm as she went to turn away. She looked up at him, her eyes holding tears, but she refused to let them go.

“It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that we find whoever burnt Gallifrey.” She told him, snatching her arm away as she rounded the console. The Master sighed, closing his eyes before speaking.

“It was me.”

The room fell silent as (Y/N) listened to his words.

“What?” She asked, turning back to look at him.

“It was me. I burned Gallifrey.”

“No.” She laughed lightly. “No, it couldn’t have been.” She ignored him as he tried to talk to her, before she snapped. “Why?!” She shouted. “Why?! Why would you do that?!”

“The things I discovered... they deserved to pay.” He told her, his eyes sad, but also holding anger of his own. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “They were corrupt... The Timeless Child...” He started but she cut him off.

“Stop. Don’t.” She shook her head, hands trembling. She knew the prophecy, the stories...

“I’m sorry.” He told her once more, as she felt her hearts break.

“Why? Why did it have to be you...” She looked at him, eyes glossy as her cheeks were red from anger.

“Because no one else was going to do it.”

An hour or so later, (Y/N) reappeared after storming off. Her face was pale as her eyes were red. The Master could tell she had been crying.

“Does the Doctor know?” She asked, looking over at him.

“Yes.” He nodded. “She has yet to find out the full story though.”

“Still fighting then?”

“Yes.” He bit his cheek.

“When will it end?” She asked, more herself as she sat beside him on the steps.

“Do you hate me?” He asked quietly, turning his head to look at her as she stared at him, laughing to herself slightly.

“I could never hate you. And that’s the problem.” She sighed, looking down. “I want to hate you. I’ve tried over the last 200 years.” She admitted. “But I never could.”

“Why?” He asked, raising a brow. “You have every right to.”

“Because I physically can’t.” She told him quietly. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I always stood by you? Why I always followed you round? Why I was so sad when you left?” He went quiet, looking at her as he analysed her features. “For a genius, you are thick.”

They both went quiet as the Master finally clicked what she was implying. She went to stand, as he grabbed her hand, looking up at her as she stood before him.

“If it’s any constellation...” He paused. “I feel the same.” He stared up at her. “When I... Destroyed our home... I hated myself for so long. Because, I thought of you.” He told her quietly. “I thought I had sacrificed you, to end the chaos. I thought I had killed you.” He admitted as she looked down at him, her mouth slightly agape. “I suppose I’ve been angry at the universe since.” He mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) sent him a small smile as she held his hand back. She sat back next to him as they just sat in silence, appreciating one another’s company.

“200 years?” The Master raised a brow. “I thought you said you’d stopped counting.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, lightly whacking him in the chest.

~

Taglist: @blamerogertaylor @asupersonicwoman @a--1--1--3 @dannighost @imagine-whatever @wonders-of-the-multiverse @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @impalasquiptyseven

~I’m beginning to get a bit confused with who wanted to be tagged! Please message me if you aren’t tagged and want to be!~

[ichabodcranemills]

I’m coming

I had a dream, leftenant. We were drinking coffee together and it was bright and safe, and the whole world smelled like coffee and you. I was happy for the first time in God knows how long because I had you in my arms-

A vine tangles in his fingers and Ichabod jolts awake. The smell of decay makes him choke and bits of dirt get into his mouth. Abbie. He had fallen asleep again. It was getting harder to stay awake. He shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts clear. If he died here, Abbie would be trapped in the underworld and it would be his fault. I have to save her, I can only die once she’s safe.

Ichabod tried to pace his breathing, lest he used all the fresh air still stored in his shallow grave. He was already getting light-headed, but he couldn’t allow himself to die. Not yet. 

You've been alive over 200 years past your due date. You can stand a few more days.

The grave was too narrow for him to properly move, but he managed to twist his shoulder around himself to reach his phone. It might have enough signal to send out a distress message. The more Ichabod moved, the more dirt fell on his face and he tried to fight off the panic bubbling in his stomach, crawling up his throat. He had no time for that. He could address the trauma of this ordeal later, and Abbie was safe and by his side again.

“Crane!”

She sounded distressed and he hated that. He was meant to protect her from any troubles. A pained whimper escaped his lips. “Miss Mills.”

He ran towards her, enveloped her small figure in his arms. I’d tear the universe apart to keep you safe, I was such a fool. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"Crane!"

This time, it wasn't Abbie. It was a man's voice. Ichabod tried to ignore it.

“Crane, talk to me! Where the hell are you? Where’s Abbie?”

Luke Morales's voice brought him back, harsh and angry, but real. A beacon of hope, a chance to get out of this horrible situation.

“Detective Morales! I need immediate assistance.”

At once, Luke abandoned the angry tone and went into concern mode.

“Where are you? What happened.”

“Buried alive, Abbie was taken. I need- please, help me.”

“I’m tracking your location. Stay with me, Crane.”

Ichabod allowed himself a relieved breath. A very small one. Luke's voice came to him again, very distant, but he said they'd locate him and a team was on his way. Ichabod blinked once, twice. I'm coming, Abbie. I won't ever leave you again.

"You better!" she said, in the pert tone he found so endearing, reaching out her arm towards him. Ichabod did the same and took her hand-

-clawing at the soil above him, earth getting stuck under his fingernails.Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision as Ichabod managed to choke out one final promise.

"I'm coming, Abbie."

                                                         --

PS. this is a very small canon divergence, Ichabod doesn't die here, I just want to make his 'buried alive' moment a little more dramatic.

[fifteenskies15]

The Immortal Water Pillar, Tomioka Giyuu

(Tomioka Giyuu x Mermaid! Reader)

Summary: Tomioka Giyuu, The Water Pillar has live long enough, more than you know... But how did that happen? Well, it all started when young Giyuu met a mermaid...

Admin's note: Hello again everyone! I came back and this time I'm with Giyuu content, hopefully this will turn out well... I'm actually nervous about this since this is adapted/referenced from Yaobikuni and because Giyuu ate mermaid (or merman aka reader's) flesh, he's definitely the oldest (and still the most handsome) Pillar in demon Slayer corps, I warn you, this'll be OOC and there will be GiyuShino here

TW: Mention of Giyuu committing suicide (Artwork does not belong to me)

Legend said that there is a woman who accidentally ate mermaid flesh...

She doesn't age and stayed like she was, young and beautiful, got married but then she became a widow, tired of living this life, she became a bhiksuni and travel around the world, and she died at age 800...

She might be dead, but mermaid's flesh did have a wonder for her... She can live for eight century, but in reality... Whoever ate the flesh will surely live forever or became an Immortal.

"Tomioka-san, you're not a human aren't you?" Shinobu said out of the blue, as she and Giyuu were sitting on the engawa while watching the full moon, the question definitely caught Giyuu off guard, he looked at the petite girl who looked at him with that typical smile on her face, but you could tell she definitely put Giyuu in position.

Giyuu remained silent as the night itself, he wasn't sure how to answer that.

Matter of fact, he is a human but...

"....."

"Tomioka-san, you should know that silence could mean as a yes, so I was right that you're not a human..."

Giyuu's blue and lifeless Cobalt blue eyes looked at her as in saying "does anyone know about this?"

Shinobu shakes her head no, "No one knows... At least not yet..." Giyuu keep staring at her, he seemed to weigh option whether he should tell her or not, seeing that he's aware that Shinobu doesn't seem to fancy him that much.

Shinobu however could detect distrust radiating from the man.

"Tomioka-san, You could tell me, I swear I won't tell any soul"

Giyuu still not believing her.

"...You promised"

Shinobu nodded solemnly signifying that she really won't tell anyone.

Giyuu stayed silent as he roll up the sleeve and pull out his sword from his sheathe, the blue color of the blade illuminated by the moon.

"Have a look, Kochō"

Giyuu cut his arm, a long, gross scar on his skin and blood dripping off from his arm, Shinobu were mildly shocked "Tomioka-san, what are you...!?"

Her purple eyes widen as she saw the cut on his arm are instantly healed, no cuts, he wordlessly put his sword back to its sheath

"Tomioka-san, may I...?"

Giyuu nodded and let Shinobu examine his arm, her eyes are filled with wonder and curiosity

"How curious, you had an exceptional regeneration ability, it's even more better than demons, it's quite fascinating..."

She looked up at Giyuu, frowning.

"But how...?"

Giyuu looked back at the full moon, looking wistful "...Kochō... Have you heard the tale of Yaobikuni?"

"Ah... That's the tale of female bhiksu who live for 800 years because she ate the mermaid flesh..."

A flash of realization hit her

"Tomioka-san, you're pulling my leg..."

Giyuu just looked at his feet, another silence blanketed the air, and it's really heavy that it's almost hard to breathe.

"Tomioka-san..."

"Kochō... I'm a human but I actually have live more longer than you know..."

Shinobu were out of words.

"Then...how long...how long have you...live?"

Giyuu thought of it, it's been so long since he lived he couldn't even remember how long he live now.

"If I recall correctly, I'm born in Kansei era..."

Once again, Shinobu rendered speechless, this man, who are known for his reversed personality and distance himself from the other pillars has lived for two centuries...

"I will tell you everything but I'm not sure if you're going to believe me"

Shinobu is not the person who believed about mythical creatures aside from demon such as mermaids.

But if she heard everything from the man who lived for nearly 200 years...

...

Shinobu looked into Giyuu's blue eyes intensely, demanding him to tell her everything "Tell me everything, Tomioka-san..."

"Very well..." He looked up at the night sky and told her everything...

200 hundreds years ago...

Young Tomioka Giyuu and his sister Tsutako lived near the docks, everyday, young Giyuu could see fishermen, sailors and travellers come and go by the boat or a big vessel, aside from that, he could feel the wind gently blowing against his skin, the salty smell of the seawater and wave crashing against the reef, sometimes he watch as the sun rise and when the sun is setting, whenever Tsutako off to the city, he always play at the shore, watching the fishermen taking off to the sea or just enjoying the calm and serene sea.

It was another day Giyuu played by the shore, laughing as he kicked the sand with his small feet, he lift up his hakama and enjoy the feeling of the sea wave against his ankle, smiling and laughing, forgetting the fact that the land were plagued by the demon attacks, he could see the seagull flying, the palm trees gently swaying, Giyuu breath in and out as he taking in the beauty of nature in front of him.

Sometimes he wonder, what kind of place that exist across the big blue sea considering how big this world is.

As he enjoyed the sound of the waves, he could hear a faint sob somewhere, he looked around, there was no one but him

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

"...help me..."

Giyuu craned his ear and followed voice

"Somebody... please..."

He kept following the voice, he didn't realize he's been walking further, but it's a good thing that he remembered his way back

Soon enough, the sobs and plea growing louder and that's when Giyuu find something unbelievable...

He saw a mermaid/merman, her/his tail were trapped in fishermen's net, the mermaid/merman is around Giyuu's age too.

How is it possible?

"Hey, it's okay! I'm going to help you"

The mermaid/merman seems desperate that she/he didn't mind a human helped her/him "Please... It hurts..." Giyuu carefully climbed down the jagged path as he try to help the poor creature, Giyuu had watch several fisherman fiddling with their nets so he knows exactly what he must do.

He can't help but to feel your (E/C) eyes staring at him, Giyuu stopped for a while, examining you "Are you a mermaid/merman?" Although it was obvious, You just nodded as he continued to free you, Giyuu focused on the net and finally manage to free you, you smiled as you sway your (scale color) tail freely, you looked at Giyuu with a beaming smile "Thank you so much for saving me, human, I'm in your debt, how should I pay you?"

"Pay me?" Giyuu ask a little confused "Yes! Paying you because you have saved me rather selflessly I say... So what do you want? Oh wait, I know! I know you want immortality!"

Young Giyuu knows that living as an Immortal being is dream of any people, but there's beauty of growing old and even death itself, Tsutako said to him that no matter how much you want to be Immortal, you will never understand how is it to have a change within yourself, either it's physically or mentally, Giyuu smiled and shook his head "No?"

"No I don't want immortality, I'm happy that I could help you" you pouted then you look at Giyuu hands, there's a bit of cuts, he probably didn't realize that releasing you did hurt him "Your hand..." Giyuu tilted his head then look at his own hand "Oh! It's okay! I'll be fine, I can just lick it!" You widen his eyes and grab his hands in rush "No! It won't do you any good!" You looked around and to see a stone with jagged edge and cut your finger with it

"What are you doing?!"

"Shush!"

You let the blood dripping into his cuts and miraculously his hands were healed, Giyuu looked at it his now flawless hands in awe "How did you do that??" You proudly huffed your chest "I'm a mermaid/merman remember? Our blood had regenerative ability, even if just one drop we could heal those who are gravely injured!" Giyuu watch as the cut on your finger regenerated in a blink of an eye "That's amazing"

"It is, isn't it?" You smiled as you lean against the rock watching Giyuu closely "By the way, I'm (name), what's yours?"

"Giyuu...Tomioka Giyuu" he say as he bow slightly at you "Ah, take it easy, Giyuu!" Giyuu just smiled at you and nods "Okay then" he then looked at you tail curiously "What's wrong with my tail?"

"I think it's pretty" he say sitting down and dip his feet in the cold but refreshing seawater, you peer curiously at his small feet "Wow, your feet are small!"

"Yeah, I know but it will grow soon...hey!!" He fell on his back as you lift his feet and looked at it in awe "Wow! Look at your toes! It's so small! I wonder if humans feet are sensitive?" You cluelessly touched his feet as Giyuu stiffled a laugh "Stop..." You looked at his face and smiled mischievously and tickled his feet, Giyuu burst out laughing "Hahaha!! Ahhh!! Stop!! It's ticklish!!"

You laughed and keep tickling his feet, at the same time you amazed at how sensitive humans feet are, maybe this is why they used a thing called...zori? or geta? Or whatever it's called... It must be used to protect the sensitive human foot

Fascinating!

You stopped tickling him as Giyuu exhaled a relieved sigh "Geez, you could just ask me not giving me a surprise attack like that" you giggled "Sorry, I'm just curious, it's just, you're the first human I ever seen in my life!"

"Really?"

You nodded and looked at him with wonder and curiosity "I want to know more about human things! What did they eat? Why do you all wear weird clothes? How is it feel to run free?" Giyuu smiled at you and seem gesture you to calm down "I will tell you if you tell me how is it feel to be a mermaid"

"Deal"

"Now what do you want to know?"

You thought about it for a while "Why do humans eat fish?"

Well that certainly one heck of a question coming from a mermaid like you "Because they're tasty" Giyuu said "But some of the humans didn't really eat fish you know, some of them eat rice with vegetables"

Your eyes sparked with interest "Rice? Vegetables? I want to try them! It must be tasty!!"

"Hehe maybe when we can, I will come and get you some"

"Please!! I want to try what you humans eat!"

"I will, what else do you want to know?"

"Well..."

That day you and Giyuu spending time talking about human stuff, and you told him about mermaid things, you both talked till the sun begin to set "Giyuu, look! Sunset!!"

Giyuu smiled at how the sun slowly sinking, the once blue sky turned orange "I have seen sunset but I never knew it looked so beautiful here!" He then stood up and give you a sad smile "Well, it's nice to meet you (name), but I had to go before it's too late"

You pouted sadly "Giyuu, wait! Can I see you again tomorrow?"

"I don't know, will you be here tommorow?"

A smile spread across your face as you nodded "Yeah, I'll be here, waiting for you"

"Then I'll be here tomorrow, see you, (name)!" Giyuu waved and run back to the docks as you swim away to place where you stay.

As he reached the docks, Tsutako just came back from the town as well, "Giyuu, where have you been?" Giyuu just smiled happily "The reef near the seashore, I was just want to see a change of scenery" Tsutako smiled at him and ruffled his hair "Well next time I have day off take me with you" Giyuu smiled and nodded, he knows that his sister is very nice so his mermaid friend would like her too.

The next day, Giyuu came with riceball he made himself, he hoped that you would like it, he arrived at the same place, as he wait for you, he once again dip his feet in the cold seawater while humming "I wonder if she's/he's here..."

"Good afternoon, Giyuu!!"

"Whoa!!"

Giyuu jumped a bit as you emerge from the water with a smile on your face, you laugh at him "Hahahaha!! You should see your face!" Giyuu huffed his cheeks and pouted "You almost gave me a heart attack" you giggled and climbed up to the shore so you sit next to him "Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to surprise you"

You peered at the riceball he bought for you "Ooh, is this what human food looks like? It's cute!! Look at how you put the seaweed on it!" You say looking at the food with sparkling eyes, Giyuu smiled and put the box on his lap "This called riceball, it's a simple dish but it's filling when you really don't want to cook, have a bite" he say as he offer you one, you gratefully accept it and take a bite

It's tasty!

"Wow! This is delicious!!" You say as you gobbled up your food, Giyuu ate on for himself and smiled at you "Right? When my sister is away, I always make this for myself so I don't get hungry"

"You have a sister?" Giyuu nodded as he looked at the vast blue sea, "She's beautiful, nice and knows how to cook, someday I want to take her here so she can meet you" You're intrigued, Giyuu is nice and his sister must be very nice too, you yourself didn't really have any sibling so you kind of envied him.

"(name) are you okay? Are you mad that I wanted to take my sister here?"

"Huh? Of course not! I actually really want to meet her, it's just that..." You sighed and take a bite of your riceball "It's just that I'm jealous of you, it must be nice to have a sibling, I have spent my life all alone, my only companions are fishes in the sea, but I can't just tell what's bothering me to them, I need someone who can relate to me and understand me like a sibling did" you say sighing, Giyuu pouted and patted your back, you looked at her quizzically "What are you doing, Giyuu?"

"I'm trying to cheer you up"

"Is this some kind of gesture that most humans did to another?"

"Yup!" He stopped and looked at you "(name), if there's anything that bothers you, you can tell me anything!" You looked at him with hopeful eyes "You will?" He nodded "Of course! That's what friends for!"

Friends...

That's sounds amazing...

"Do you really mean it?"

"Do I really mean what?"

"That you are my friend?"

"Of course we are! I know we came from different world, but that doesn't stop me from being friends with you!" You could feel tears welled up in your eyes, the way Giyuu said it and how it's reflected inside his eyes, he was genuine.

"Waaahhh!! Giyuu!!!" You tackled him to a hug while you cry into his chest, truth to be told, you have met so many humans but none of them are as kind and as genuine as Giyuu... your eyes, the way Giyuu said it... His feelings are genuine

"Hey, hey, it's okay, don't cry" he say as he hugged you back, he could feel something on his lap and to see...pearls?!

You pulled away, wiping your tears away, smiling at him "Sometimes I forgot that mermaids can make a pearl from their tears, well, why don't you keep it?" Giyuu looked down at the pearls, it will be nice if he sell them and the money can be used for his sister but...

...

He scooped the pearls and throw it away to the sea "Huh, Giyuu you sure you don't want it? It would give you a plenty of good fortune" Giyuu shook his head "I don't need pearls like those, I became your friend just the way you are not because of what you're capable of" you smiled again and hugged him, gently this time "You had a pure heart Giyuu"

"What is that even mean?"

"Hehe nothing, just wanted to say it"

That day, the two of you spend time eating the riceball untill the sun began to set.

----

Years pass, and Giyuu had grown up into a fine young man and so are you, Giyuu still visited from time to time, and the more you spend your time with him, the more you realize how handsome Giyuu is.

"Is everything okay, (name)?" You looked away and sputtered "N-nothing!! Anyways... How have you been doing? Especially with all the recent demon attacks" Giyuu's smile falter as he sighed "I have been fine...I trained with someone who live in the mountain so I can defend myself and other people" he looked rather distant, something must've troubled his mind "Are you worried that we can't see each other now that you're going to mountains?"

Giyuu nodded "The man, Sakonji Urokodaki is very kind, his training may be gruesome but he's still allow me to see you when I had a free time"

"I see..." You just sway your tail then looked at him "Anyways, how is Tsutako nee-san doing?" A warm smile spread on his face "She's going to get married next month"

"Really?! That's great!" You say smiling, Tsutako is really nice when Giyuu took her to see you, of course you like her almost immediately "When Tsutako nee-san is married you and I are gonna be aunt and uncle!/uncles!" Giyuu chuckled and nodded "Yes we do, I'm so happy for her"

"Oh! Before I forget..." You began to shed a tear as it turn into a very beautiful pearl "Here Giyuu, I want Tsutako nee-san to have this" Giyuu was astonished "(Name) are you really sure?" You nodded and give the pearls to him "This is my token of appreciation, a thank you give for her, tell her I wish her to have a happy marriage" Giyuu smiled and held the pearl before he put it in his pocket "Tsutako nee-san will love this"

You smiled at him, then you both watch the horizon sky in peaceful silence, you scoot closer to Giyuu and lay your head on his shoulder, Giyuu smile and lay his head against yours "I'm going to miss this once I got to the demon slayer corps..." You pouted sadly since you know you won't see him for the time being "and I will miss you too, Giyuu..."

Giyuu looked at you wistfully and take your hand on his "You won't lose me, when I can, I will come back here to see you and tell you everything that happened..."

You looked at him

"...You promised"

He nodded solemnly as he remove the strand of your hair from your face "You have my word"

You smiled sadly at him, you tried to cherish the moment before he went back to the mountain again and you want to give him the thing you made for him since you know this day would come

"Giyuu, give me your hand"

Giyuu was a bit confused but he did anyways, you handed her a seashell with a pearl on it and there's an engraving on the pearl

義勇富岡

"My name?" You nodded happily "I remember how you teach me how to write your name, I made this so you could remember me when you see it" Giyuu smiled and held the beautiful seashell close to his heart "I will treasure this forever... Thank you, (name)"

You smiled and hugged him as you both witnessed the last sunset together...

"I loathe to say it..."

"Then don't..."

Giyuu sighed and went on his feet "But I must go, tomorrow I have to go back to training" you tried to not cry and stay strong knowing that you won't see him for a long time, "I wish you good luck, Giyuu..." You swim to the sea and give Giyuu one last fleeting look, he looked sad as he waved and mouthed "until we meet again"

You nod and dive back into the sea...

Month has passed, you keep waiting and waiting for Giyuu to come back, he's not coming... But that's not going to stop you from waiting for him.

But this time you're worried, for the first time you swim near the docks where Giyuu lived, you could hear many fishermen or people talking

"... unfortunate... really"

"...such shame...she was a nice young woman..."

...What?

You peer closer and try not to get their attention "Do you know Tomioka Tsutako? It's unfortunate that she's dead right before her wedding day"

...What...?!

"Yes, it's such a shame that she died before the day she became a blushing bride, pity her, pity her"

"That's why many youngster trade their lives for danger to put people's heart at ease and become demon Slayer"

"Come to think of it, her brother is one of them too, right?"

"I'm not sure yet, but let's hope that boy is alive and well"

You felt like being hit, Tsutako is...

...

With tears in your eyes you swim aimlessly to take your mind off the ugly possiblity that will happen to Giyuu, you stopped and climb on a reef, sitting on it and sing a sad melodies, you mourned, you mourned of your friend's death and thinking about Giyuu, how can he deal with this?

"Giyuu, please be okay..."

----

A year had passed and you still wait for Giyuu at the very same place all those year ago, and he still didn't came

Giyuu, where are you now? How are you now?

You looked at the horizon, it feels disrespectful when you see this beautiful scenery without Giyuu by your side, you still remember his smile and how his eyes gleam in happiness Everytime he talk to you

"Giyuu, I wish you were here..."

Your eyes wander around just in case you actually see him, and you did...You could see Giyuu sitting on the sea cliff, motionless"

Giyuu!!" You called at him, but he didn't hear you... You then noticed he pulled out his sword as he stood up near the cliff

...No

No!!

"GIYUU NO!!!"

Too late, he already plunge his sword into his stomach, he then fall backwards and plunge into the sea, you swim as fast as you could to save him, you looked around and see his body slowly sinking in to the deeper sea, sword still stuck on his stomach and the color of ugly red seeping out from his abdomen

Just a little more...!

You manage to grab him and quickly bring him to the shore, you lay him down carefully and pull out his sword from his stomach, you put your ear on his chest, his heart were beating weakly, he's gonna be a goner soon...

You took his red streaked blade and cut your wrist as you let if fall on his stomach, the cut on his stomach is healed and there's one thing you must do when he's awake

You got closer to him, you did a chest compressor so he could cough out all the water, when it's enough, you get even more closer to him and connect his lips with yours...

...

...

Giyuu coughed as air finally filled his lung he looked around and to find you looking at him with worry in your eyes

"(Name), it's you..."

"Yeah, it's me..."

And out of the blue you punched him, hard that he stumbled back, but he doesn't seem to react anything as if he deserves it

"You idiot!!! What the hell happened with your mind?! Why would you do such stupid thing?!" You pulled his collar as his blue eyes didn't even met yours "Answer me!!! Why did you do that?! Did you forget the promise we made here?! Am I nothing to you know?! Is it what Tsutako nee-san wants?! IS IT?!"

You were so sad and angry at him, guilt spread over his now expressionless face.

He should've know there's another person aside from Tsutako and Sabito who cares about him.

"...No..."

"Then why...?"

He looked at you with his empty blue eyes, you realize that there is no light inside it like you used to see "I have lost my sister and I have lost my best friend, I'm punishing myself because I'm not strong enough for them, and I know I'm not strong enough to even protect you, so I..."

You cut him off by hugging him tightly, hesitantly he put his arms around you and hold you like you're his lifeline

"Giyuu, you still have me no matter what happens..."

"I know...and I'm sorry..."

You both embraced each other in silence as you spoke up "Eat me, Giyuu"

...

"(Name), what do you mean?"

"Just eat me!! I can't bear the thought of you dying!!! I won't let anyone and demons kill you! You have to stay alive to protect innocent people from the demons!!"

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead against his "I know this is very selfish of me to ask, but I want you to stay alive, for me, for Tsutako nee-san and your best friend..." Giyuu looked at you with mixed feelings "When the demons are eradicated, I want you to come back here, spending time together like we used to and tell me everything and if you're tired living as an immortal I'll be here" you say joked at the last part as you hugged him.

"(name)..."

"Go ahead, I'll be fine..."

With few hesitation, Giyuu bit your shoulder slowly before he began to "eat" you, blood dripping down from your shoulder, you could feel his tears against your shoulder as you assure him everything is going to be fine...

Then he stopped, he pulled away from you with mouth smeared with your blood, and tears running from his blue eyes "(Name) I'm sorry..."

"Don't be..." You smiled as you recovering slowly, but the bite mark on your shoulder remain there, you smiled at him "To remind me of you and knowing that one day you'll come back..." Giyuu then pulled you into his arms as you hug him back just as much...

Knowing that this is truly the last time you see him...

You patted away and go back to the water as you smiled at him "Run along now Giyuu, protect people with all your strength, no matter how long it takes, I'm here, I'm always here, waiting for you..."

He nodded as he wipe the blood off his mouth "I promise I will come back here..."

"You promised..." You smiled, tearing up.

"...See you soon, Tomioka Giyuu" you say as you dive back, Giyuu watch as you swim away.

"See you soon, (name)..." With that, he left the sea and go to where he belongs to.

Shinobu was speechless as he listen to Giyuu's story, she couldn't imagine what he's been through and what he's seen. "And does Oyakata-sama knows about your unusual condition?" Giyuu nods "He knows and he keep it a secret from everyone...which makes you the second person to know about this..."

He rummaged his pocket as he pulled out the memento you have him hundreds years ago, Shinobu watch in amazement as she saw it was still in perfect condition

"It's beautiful..."

And to her surprise, Giyuu smiled as he looked at it "It is..." The pearl were beautifully illuminated by the moonlight.

"This is what keeps me going...I promised her/him that I will come back once everything is settled"

It's definitely weird, but Shinobu couldn't hold back her smile "You sure secretly a softie, Tomioka-san"

"Be quiet, Kochō..."

Shinobu just chuckled as she and Giyuu keep basking under the moonlight, in his heart Giyuu promised that he will stay alive as long as he can no matter how cruel and painful life can be.

And someday soon, he surely will come back to you.

----

Admin 15: Wow, that sure very long! Anyways, I'm sorry if you don't catch what happened in the story or the GiyuShino reference here, thank you very much for taking your time reading this!