#‘nothing happens in isolation’ I’m glad you’ll have that to tell yourself when my brother and I cut you off!

[voiceshearingyouloud]

I was like dude why am I spilling my guts to my parents even after everything and why am I risking letting something slip that I don’t want to, and how do I stop doing that. And then I realised that I’m trying to fix my parents’ relationship with my brother and I went ah. I need to stop trying to fix other people’s relationships because it is not my job as the child to explain emotional maturity to my parents, nor do I need to hear ‘there are always extenuating circumstances’ from my mother ever again.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Azusa [Manservant Ending]

Monologue

I belong to Azusa-kun. 

And Azusa-kun belongs to me.

We shall live until our deaths,

yearning for each other like that.

I would not mind leaving my own life,

in Azusa-kun’s hands.

No, Azusa-kun is simply,

that important to me.

Azusa-kun.

You are the only treasure in my life.

These feelings are the absolute truth.

There is absolutely nothing you have to worry about from here on out.

Yet...

With each passing day,

Azusa-kun seemingly began to grow afraid of something.

What exactly,

is making him feel that way?

And what can I do for him?

No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t find the answer.

I would simply feel the blood pumping through my veins grow hot,

as if it was trying to tell me something...

ー The scene starts in the living room

Kou: Anyway, I’m glad Azusa-kun is safe...I was really fearing the worst at some point. Right, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: ...Not really.

Kou: You say that now but you were actually worried sick, weren’t you~?

Yuma: Don’t be runnin’ yer mouth now.

Kou: I’m not telling lies! I got worried just watching the stress slowly eat away at you from the inside! (1)

Yuma: K-Kou! Stop spoutin’ random nonsense!

Kou: Nonsense? It’s nothing but the truth though.

Yuma: Oi! You bastard...!

Kou: Uwah! No violence in this house! Don’t just stand there watching and save me, M-neko-chan!

Yui: Ahaha...

( Fufu, like this, they’re really no different from humans. )

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Huh...? )

Azusa: ...

...

Yui: ( I wonder what’s wrong? It’s almost as if he’s glaring at Kou-kun and Yuma-kun... )

Azusa-kun...?

Azusa: Ah...Yes?

Yui: You were spacing out, so I was wondering what’s up...

Azusa: Well...

...Let’s go, Yui.

Yui: Eh...?

ー Azusa drags her away

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

( He tugged me along so strongly, I couldn’t stop him... )

W-What’s wrong, Azusa-kun?

Azusa: ...

Yui: Kou-kun and Yuma-kun will be worried?

Azusa: Are you more concerned about those two?

Yui: T-That’s not what I meant but...

Azusa: But, that’s what you’re implying.

...Did they tell you something?

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: ...Sorry...

...

Yui: Azusa-kun, is something wrong? You’re acting a little weird.

Azusa: That’sーー

...It’s nothing.

Haah...I really am sorry.

You’re right.

Let’s return to them.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Azusa: ...

...Say, can I ask just one thing?

Yui: Yes?

Azusa: You’ll stay with me regardless of what happens, right?

Your feelings will never change, will they?

Yui: Yeah, they won’t.

Azusa: Really?

Yui: Yeah, really.

Azusa: I see...But...

I can’t...be the one. I can’t become Adam...

Somebody will eventually come take you away from me.

Yui: Azusa-kun, it’ll be okay. Nobody will come here, and I belong to you.

Azusa: No. You will be taken by someone, and there is simply nothing human feelings can do about that...

By Adam...By the people who are qualified to become Adam...!

I don’t want that...You’re the one person I don’t want to give up.

I’m begging you, don’t stray away from my side. Not physically, nor emotionally, not even the slightest bit...

Yui: Azusa-kun...

Don’t worry. I’m right here. By your side.

I’m not going anywhere.

Azusa: ...

Yeah...

Yui: ( ...I feel as if Azusa-kun is acting a little off after all. )

( I wonder what happened? )

Azusa: ...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the classroom

Yui: Haah...

( I’ve been lacking sleep as of late because I’m so worried about Azusa-kun... )

( Ah...Ruki-kun might know something. )

Ruki-kun! Uhm...!

Ruki: ...Yes? Do you need something?

Yui: You see...Azusa-kun has been acting strange as of late.

Ruki: Azusa has?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

I was hoping you might know something more...

Ruki: ...

Yui: I’m not sure but...Could it be related to this Adam or Eve thing...?

Ruki: Well...

...No, it’s nothing. Best of luck figuring it out yourself.

ー Ruki steps away

Yui: Ah...

( He left... )

( But something really is going on. )

ー The scene shifts to the hallway at school

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun...He looks as if he hasn’t been getting a wink of sleep lately. )

( His complexion is pale too... )

...Yui-san?

Yui: Y-Yes?

Azusa: You talked to Ruki today, didn’t you?

Yui: ( I wonder if he was watching from somewhere? )

I did but...Is something wrong with that?

Azusa: Stop that already.

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: Don’t talk to anyone. It upsets me...so very much...

Yui: O-Okay, Azusa-kun.

...But Ruki-kun is your brother, right?

Azusa: I know that!!

*Thud*

Yui: !!

Azusa: Listen...? Not even to my brothers.

Especially because they are my brothers...You shouldn’t...

You can’t, Yui-san...

That’s what becoming Adam means...

Since you’re Eve, they’d be able to take you away from me with ease...

Yui: A-Azusa-kun?

Azusa: You’ll be taken from me...!

Yui: ( He can’t hear me. )

( I wonder how I should make him understand I won’t go anywhere? )

( Right...There’s only one way... )

( For Azusa-kun’s sake, I will... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: ( ...Aah. I wonder what date today is... )

( How long has it been since I quit school and isolated myself in my room? )

( I haven’t been seeing anyone but Azusa-kun. )

( Haven’t been hearing anyone’s voices. )

( As if Azusa-kun is the only person alive on this earth. )

( But that’s fine... )

( Azusa-kun, this should do the trick, right? )

( Like this...You won’t be worried no more, right? )

( Azusa-kun... )

Yui: ...

( Aah...I...must have been asleep... )

( I wonder how much time has passed...? )

Azusa: ...Are you awake?

Yui: A...Azusa-kun...

Azusa: I was a little worried because you’ve been asleep for days.

Even if you would open your eyes every now and then, you’d doze back off right away.

Yui: I’m sorry, I...

Azusa: It’s fine.

I could watch you sleep for days, for years.

Yui: Azusa-kun...

Are you...okay now...?

I’ll stay by your side like this...forever and ever.

For your sake only.

Azusa: Yeah...Thank you...I stopped having worries.

Yui: I see...Thank god...

Say...But what exactly were you worried about...?

Azusa: It’s honestly pretty trivial once you voice it out loud.

I was afraid that you - being Eve - would be stolen from me by someone else.

That’s when...I came to the realiziation. 

...That I should simply make you mine already.

Surrender your everything to me, before you are taken away.

Yui: Azusa-kun...?

Azusa: Say...You don’t mind, rightーー?

ー Azusa bites her

Yui: Aah...!

Azusa: Don’t worry. I’m only sucking you dry.

Don’t protest.

You’re the only one I have left after allーー

Let’s become one...?

Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll treasure you...

Okayーー?

Monologue

Azusa-kun simply continued to single-mindedly,

suck my blood.

My body would grow heavy per usual,

and once moved beyond that point,

my thoughts grew faint...

Aah, I truly believed that,

I could become one with Azusa-kun.

By turning into Azusa-kun’s,

blood and flesh,

I get to be with him forever.

I will be closer to him than anyone else.

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally Kou says he was afraid a hole would open in Yuma’s stomach. However, this expression can also refer to someone being extremely distressed. 

[melanielocke]

Illicit Affairs

A while ago I wrote a fic about Alastair’s relationship with Charles and posted it on AO3 (titled Tolerate it there) 

The original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31293734

I rewrote it because some of the details were wrong and some parts I didn’t like anymore, so I’m posting the new one here. 

CW: toxic relationship, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), some of which sort of pressured (Since Alastair is a minor, it definitely cannot be considered consensual), mentions of alcoholism

It had been a long time since Alastair had visited the Paris Institute. Last time must have been the Herondale party when he was fourteen. It was a magnificent building, often said to be second only to the London Institute, and the second largest in Europe. He would be staying here for a year, away from his family. He’d pressed his parents about it for months. They’d thought he was too young for a travel year at sixteen, but after speaking of it with his mother he’d been allowed to go. Alastair guessed she felt sorry for him, being trapped at home again, and had decided he deserved a break.

Paris would be a chance to start over, or at least he hoped so. He’d thought the same of Shadowhunter Academy though, and what a disaster that had been… He didn’t quite dare hope here would be better, but he did know Charles Fairchild would be here and the few times they’d met he’d been very kind to him. Alastair had met him here, ironically, at the Herondale’s party when he was fourteen. Alastair had been so eager to impress powerful people, and Charles had seemed very impressed with his manners and his knowledge on shadowhunter politics. They’d started writing each other letters, and Charles had become Alastair’s first real friend. He certainly didn’t consider any of the boys from school his friends.

About a year ago Charles had sent him a copy of Machiavelli’s the Prince, which had become his favorite book. And recently Charles had informed him that he would move to Paris for a year to replace the head of the Institute, and had suggested he come there for his travel year. He was a bit young, that was true, but being so isolated wasn’t good for his progress and even his parents couldn’t deny that spending time with the consul’s eldest son was good for their family’s social standing.

He entered, carrying his bags with him. He’d tried to pack lightly, but Risa and his mother had added all kinds of things over the past week and now it was still heavy even for a trained shadowhunter to carry on his own.

‘You must be Mr. Carstairs,’ a woman said.

Judging from her dress and lack of runes, Alastair guessed she must be one of the mundane servants here.

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘I’m Madeleine,’ she said, ‘I’m a maid here. Come, I’ll show you to your room.’

He followed the servant woman to a bedroom, where Alastair dropped his bags. Madeleine left him there to unpack, and Alastair took his time. He hated mess, and preferred it when everything had its proper place. He’d packed a few of his favorite daggers, and took them out, looking carefully for a proper place for them.

After a while he noticed someone was standing in the doorway. Familiar red hair, styled carefully, and dressed in a stylish grey suit. Charles Fairchild. He didn’t look much like his younger brother, and although everyone was always fussing about Matthew’s looks, Alastair preferred Charles’ serious face, the way he dressed like someone powerful instead of like a clown.

‘Look at you, all grown up,’ Charles said. ‘It’s been a while, Alastair. I’m glad to see you arrived.’

Alastair hadn’t seen Charles in person in over a year. He still looked very handsome, and Alastair was glad he was here. Everything was better than being home around his father.  

‘I’m glad to see you too,’ Alastair said. ‘Congratulations on making interim head of the institute.’

‘Thanks. It is a great opportunity for me. I feel like every shadowhunter politician should have some experience at an institute. Growing up in Idris leaves one a bit sheltered from the harsh realities of Shadowhunter life, I’m afraid.’

Alastair wondered where his childhood fit in. He certainly hadn’t grown up somewhere safe and sheltered, but if it made him a better Shadowhunter he had no idea.

‘That’s why many shadowhunters take a travel year, don’t we?’ Alastair said.

‘Exactly. I lived in London myself before coming here, although of course that is where my family is from and demonic activity there is exceptionally low. Come, I’ll show you around the institute. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks myself, but I have figured out the lay out.’

Charles showed him around, leading him to the main hall where most of the meetings were held.

‘You’re not yet old enough to be in enclave meetings, are you?’ Charles asked.

‘I will turn seventeen in a month,’ Alastair said. ‘So no, not yet.’

‘Shame, I think you would do well. Of course, I will give you permission to come and watch. That way, you’ll still learn plenty.’

Did Charles really think he would do well?

‘You’re very mature for your age,’ Charles continued. ‘Nothing like my brother. I can’t believe you’re only sixteen.’

Alastair did not want to discuss Charles’ younger brother, but was flattered Charles thought he was mature. Of course, he had to be, since he’d had to take care of his father from a young age. Being young and immature was a luxury Alastair did not have, unlike Matthew Fairchild.

‘I think I would like to watch enclave meetings,’ Alastair said.

Charles showed him to the training rooms next, and asked him about his preference for weapons and Alastair told him about his spears.

‘Spears, huh? I thought I saw you with daggers in your room.’

‘Those are decorative, mostly. I collect them. But I always carry at least one spear with me when I go outside, you never know when something might happen.’

Alastair remembered the vetis demon Clive Cartwright had released all these years ago at the academy. How he’d been too scared to tell his “friends” how he felt about the prank, that it was a terrible idea. He’d gone along anyway, thinking that if he was there at least he had some control of the situation. Then Clive had died, and perhaps Alastair could have saved him, had he carried his spears. He’d never left them behind again.

‘Seems a bit unpractical,’ Charles said. ‘How do you even carry a spear?’

‘Not at all. You see, these can be folded, so I can comfortably carry them underneath my suit. And they allow me to fight demons from a bit more distance.’

Alastair hated it when he got covered in blood, ichor, and other bits of demon parts, but fortunately that didn’t happen as often anymore. He still hated the way he looked after a fight though, with his hair all over the place and his clothes messy, but it was better than being covered in blood. He always put great effort into his appearance. With people constantly judging him for how he looked, he couldn’t afford to be seen with even a hair out of place.

‘Would you like to show me a bit? I’ve never trained with spears myself, nor seen anyone else do it. It’s a bit of an unconventional weapon after all.’

Alastair hesitated, and then unfolded one of his spears from underneath his suit. He’d still been carrying it even when there was no need inside. He guessed he’d forgotten to take it off, that’s how comfortable they were underneath his clothes. It was convenient now though, since he didn’t see any spears in the training room. He didn’t feel like changing into gear just for a demonstration, that would come later during training, but he did step into the training room. It was much bigger than what he was used to at home.

Alastair threw the spear, hitting a target about as far away as he could hit from here, hoping it would impress Charles.

‘I usually carry more than one spear, so I can throw them as well without ever being left unarmed.’

‘Clever,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve mostly trained with swords myself. Of course, I do spend most of my time on Shadowhunter politics and there’s much I can teach you about that. And maybe someday you can teach me how to use a spear.’

Alastair suspected Charles wasn’t much of a fighter, but he didn’t mind. At least he didn’t have to worry about someone who spent most of his time writing letters and arguing with older shadowhunters. Charles was very unlikely to get hurt somehow, which allowed Alastair to let down his guard a bit.

During his first few weeks in Paris he continued to spend much time with Charles, the older man showing him around and telling him everything about his work, how to run an institute, and the experience he had helping his mother with her work as Consul.

‘Have you considered a career in politics yourself, Alastair? Maybe head an institute someday, or even become Inquisitor.’

Alastair had not, but he was intrigued. ‘I’d probably not do such a great job. I’m not great at getting people to like me.’

At the academy some people had liked him, of course. His “friends” who’d found his witty insults hilarious. And little Thomas Lightwood, who had followed him around for some reason. Alastair had always found his presence a bit uncomfortable, the way Thomas had seemed to see right through him. Yet at the same time, being adored did feel nice.

Most of the time he tended to antagonize people, keep them at a distance. It was safer that way, people who were scared of him would not hurt him.

Charles put his hand on his shoulder. Alastair knew it was only supposed to be friendly, but it didn’t feel that way. It sent a shiver down his spine and Alastair desperately hoped Charles hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to know what Charles would think of him if he knew how Alastair really felt about him.

‘You don’t have to worry about getting people to like you,’ Charles said. ‘Not when you can make them owe you.’

Alastair wasn’t quite sure what Charles meant, but it sounded promising. He could make people owe him. And perhaps with Charles’ help, he could make his way up in the Clave, and escape the shame his father had brought to the Carstairs name.

He also knew none of that was likely to happen. He knew that if people discovered what he really was, he’d lose everything. He’d bring more shame to his family than his father did, which Alastair thought was completely unfair.

‘I like that,’ Alastair said. ‘I can work with that.’

‘Sure you can. But if it’s any consolation, I like you.’

At that, Alastair smiled.

The evening before Alastair’s seventeenth birthday, he discovered a note in his room.

Come to my bedroom at midnight. Make sure no one sees you.

C.F.

 Alastair wasn’t sure why Charles would want to see him in his bedroom, but he was also curious. He liked Charles in a way he hadn’t often liked people. Sure, there had been men he found attractive, but he felt like he connected to Charles. The older man seemed to understand him in a way no one else could, and was always willing to give him advice and teach him about shadowhunter politics. He had no idea, however, if Charles was like him. He would think it unlikely. Charles was a respectable man, a powerful man. Charles would be consul one day. But Alastair guessed powerful men had their secrets too, and why else would Charles invite him to his bedroom?

Alastair decided to go. He used his stealth to get through the institute unseen, something he had been good at for some time. When he was young, he’d always made sure no one discovered him before he found his father passed out somewhere. He knew even then what could happen if the wrong people found him alone on the streets at night.

No one was up at this hour, but he made sure to be quiet and not wake anyone. He found his way to Charles’s room, and quietly knocked on the door. For a moment he worried he might have gotten the wrong room and someone would be asking what he was doing here at this hour, but Charles opened the door, and rushed him inside, closing the door behind them.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘You asked me to.’

‘I did. Come, sit.’

Alastair sat down in the armchair. ‘Why did you want to see me at this hour?’

‘You seem like a man of many secrets, Alastair,’ Charles said.

Alastair couldn’t deny that exactly. Between his father and his romantic feelings for Charles, he had plenty of secrets.

‘You might not have realized,’ Charles continued. ‘But I have a secret of my own. Something that I’ve had to hide. I haven’t told a soul.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘I wanted you to know my secret, because I’ve suspected for some time that your secret is similar. And I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out, so now is the best time.’  

‘What sort of secret?’ Alastair asked, trying to sound more innocent than he was.

He suspected what Charles meant, but he wasn’t about to reveal that in case he was wrong.

Charles took in a deep breath, and Alastair could tell he found it difficult to share, even now. ‘I like men,’ he said. ‘I’ve known for several years, but I’ve never been able to tell anyone. But I’ve noticed the way you look at me… The way you respond when I touch you. I thought you should know that… that you aren’t alone.’

Alastair was left speechless for a moment. Even if he’d suspected, hearing Charles say it out loud was different. He’d known he liked men for several years, but he’d never told anyone and had never met another man he knew was like him. And Charles was a man he was definitely attracted to.

‘You’re right,’ Alastair said after an uncomfortable silence. ‘I do like men. And I like you.’

Charles took his hand, brushing over it with his thumb. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Please,’ Alastair said, a bit overwhelmed from everything.

Charles leant over and kissed him, gentle at first, then a bit firmer. Alastair had never been kissed before, had never considered it possible, and certainly not with someone like Charles Fairchild. He’d never imagined Charles might be like him, and even then that he would want this with him.

They broke apart. ‘I presume you understand, Alastair, that no one can know,’ Charles said. ‘We would both be ruined, if people found out. But if we’re careful, we can be together.’

Alastair was fine with that. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know about him liking men and wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

‘I won’t tell,’ Alastair promised. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell.

Charles didn’t say anything and kissed him again, hungrier this time. Demanding. He dragged him to the bed. Alastair wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt good. He’d never thought someone could love him, but Charles did. He was a bit scared of rushing it, it was all so new. Charles began to remove his clothes and Alastair allowed it, still not sure what was going to happen. 

When they were finished, Alastair tried to find a comfortable position next to Charles.

‘Happy birthday, Alastair,’ he said, kissing him again. ‘But you do have to leave.’

‘Can’t I… Can’t I sleep here?’

‘I wish you could, but it would be suspicious if people saw you leaving my bedroom. At this hour, no one would see you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a gift for you.’

Alastair was a bit disappointed he couldn’t stay any longer, but he quickly dressed himself and sneaked back to his own bedroom. He slept well for a change. He could still feel Charles’ lips, his hands exploring him.

The next morning, Charles did indeed have a gift for him. ‘I realized how important your dagger collection was to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you have one of these yet. It’s called a poignard, and was popular in France during the renaissance.’

Alastair smiled as he took a look at it. He didn’t have a dagger like this one, that was true. He’d wanted one for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to buying it.

‘Thank you, it’s beautiful. It’s true that these were popular in western Europe for a while, but they were also the primary weapon of the army of the Savafid empire in Persia during the 16th and 17th century.’

‘Oh, I did not know that,’ Charles said.  

He spent much of the next months sneaking his way in and out of Charles’ bedroom at night. Hiding an affair was exciting, of course, and Alastair loved the thrill of it, but it was also difficult. When they saw each other during the day, Alastair had to fight to keep a neutral face, to hide any signs of affection. But at night he could be with Charles, comfortable for a while until he had to leave his room without being seen. With Charles he could let his guard down in a way he’d never done before. And he gave Charles everything he had, everything he could give. The other man could be demanding, and Alastair did not want to disappoint. He wanted to be enough for him, to be able to give him all he needed.

After a few months, Charles mentioned the topic of marriage when they were alone at night.

‘When I return to London, it is very likely I will enter an engagement with miss Ariadne Bridgestock. She’s the daughter of the Inquisitor, and such an alliance could prove quite useful.’

Alastair felt his heart sank. ‘But I thought…’ He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I thought you loved me, he wanted to say.

‘It will likely be a temporary engagement,’ Charles said, taking his hand. ‘I do not care for her as I do for you, you know that. But to be allied to the Bridgestock family will certainly help me be elected Consul when my mother’s term ends and maybe then we could truly be together.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’

‘Perhaps. But I would not mind if you chose to marry. I would still want to be with you.’

Alastair determinedly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I know I could never love a woman like I love you, and I’d never want to deceive someone of my love.’

‘Not all women mind,’ Charles said. ‘But I understand.’

Alastair was not so sure he did. But he didn’t like fighting with Charles and his lover had the gift to make him forget about whatever he was angry about as soon as they were in his bed together.

There were times when he did worry about the state of their relationship. When Charles decided he couldn’t accompany him when he wanted to see the city, claiming they couldn’t be seen together. Working together wasn’t an issue, nor was Charles teaching him about politics, but they certainly couldn’t go see the city together. And especially when Charles again brought up the topic of marriage, this time suggesting it would be good for both of them if Alastair got engaged.

‘I’m not going to change my mind on this, Charles,’ he said. ‘I do not want to be married to someone I do not love.’

‘And what will you do when your parents ask why you refuse to get married?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Besides, since we move around so much we barely meet other shadowhunters. It’ll be easy enough to convince them I simply haven’t met anyone I like.’

Alastair dreaded going back to his parents, away from Charles and from Paris and from everything that made him feel safe. But he also missed his mother and sister and regretted not being there to protect them. He wanted to mend the bond with Cordelia, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t tell her the truth about their father, and he certainly couldn’t tell her about Charles.

Charles paused. ‘You are very young. You still have plenty of time to find someone. But at some point you will be expected to marry. It could become very difficult to get ahead if you refuse. And what would your parents think, when you show no interest in women or marriage whatsoever?’

‘I guess so. But plenty of people marry for reasons other than love. My parents did, although they did fall in love over time. You’ll understand when you’re older.’

Alastair felt uncomfortable when Charles said that. His lover considered him a child still. Hadn’t he complimented him on how mature he was? Yet Charles often did not take him seriously, as if he was too young to understand. He often commented that he would understand things better when he was older. He was old enough to sleep with Charles though. He couldn’t make sense of it. So he did the best he could to please Charles, to show him he was mature and that he did understand. But when they differed of opinion, Charles always dismissed his ideas. That was fine though, he would be an adult soon enough and then Charles would have to take him seriously.

Except when Alastair arrived in London, nothing much seemed to change. Alastair attended every enclave meeting, now old enough to speak there himself, and did the best he could to have valuable input in these meetings, but Charles rarely listened. He preferred the sound of his own voice, even in the emergency they were in, which Charles wasn’t handling well at all. Just let me help you, he wanted to say. Just admit you cannot do this and you need me.

Not to mention here he was confronted with the presence of miss Ariadne Bridgestock, Charles’ fianc��e. Alastair didn’t resent miss Bridgestock, he didn’t know her very well but he understood that as an adopted Indian woman, she was in no position to refuse to marry Charles. But he wanted Charles all to himself, to be the first thing on his mind, he didn’t want him to get married. He guessed that was not possible for someone like him. They’d always have to keep up appearances. He’d always have to be a secret.

Charles wasn’t there when Alastair needed him either. He was busy with his work, or with his fiancée who was ill and unlikely to wake up anytime soon, when Alastair just needed someone to talk to, someone to hold him. He had no one but Charles, no one he could confide in. He loved his sister, but he needed to protect her, not burden her with his struggles. Nor did he think she’d understand how he felt about Charles and he did not think he could take that rejection. He knew Layla was frustrated by his distance, but what else was he supposed to do?

So instead he was alone in his bedroom, after Charles had told him he didn’t have time to talk, to be more careful and not speak to him like that in public. Charles had promised he would come see him late in the evening, and he would just have to hold on until then. He knew Cordelia was spending more and more time with James Herondale and although he didn’t hate them as much as he pretended he did, he didn’t trust them either. They were so reckless, running towards danger and dragging Cordelia with them. Just like Charles, Herondale and his friends had no idea what they were up against and vastly overestimated their abilities to solve the situation, and one of these days Cordelia would get hurt because of it. And what would happen when his father was convicted? When Cordelia would inevitably find out the truth? Alastair didn’t want her to know, but at the same time he could barely stomach how she tried to rescue him as if he was some sort of hero.

Alastair cried for most of the day. His mother and Risa had gotten used to him locking himself in his bedroom by now and had left him, Risa only knocking once to announce she’d made tea. He hated crying, he hated being vulnerable like this and having to hide, but sometimes he couldn’t do it anymore. The anger had faded away and all that was left was emptiness. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was crying over, the way Cordelia kept putting herself in danger, the state of his relationship, his father. Plenty of options. It happened more and more frequently that he collapsed when he was sure no one would see, and Charles was never there to help him through it. He guessed he was expecting too much. But if Charles asked for him, told him he needed him, he would be there, always, no matter how inconvenient. Because he loved Charles.  

He’d calmed a bit when it was time for dinner, and when everyone else had gone to bed, Charles did come for him. Alastair didn’t feel like arguing again, and instead accepted that even if it was a bit late, at least Charles was here now. He drew a soundless rune on the door, just in case someone would wake up and hear them.

‘Have you been crying?’ Charles asked.

To anyone else, he would have denied it. But Charles he trusted, even if his lover was not careful with his feelings at all. ‘A little,’ he said.

‘It is unbecoming for a man to cry,’ Charles said. ‘You’ll learn, in time, to deal with your emotions better.’

‘Perhaps I would have if you had actually made time for me when I needed you,’ Alastair bit back.

‘You know I was busy,’ Charles said. ‘Really, Alastair, I thought you were past this.’

He didn’t dare say anything else on the topic. He wasn’t sure he could take Charles’ dismissal. Charles was right, of course, he was too old to cry, had been for a long time, but what else was he supposed to do? The longer he held it in, the worse it got, and as long as no one actually saw him when he cried, it was alright.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘I am too. I missed you.’

Alastair wished Charles would stay with him, but as always he left when they were finished. It made sense, of course, Charles wouldn’t be able to explain sleeping over at the Carstairs house without anyone suspecting. Still, he wished he wasn’t alone. So he cried again, even if Charles had said it was unbecoming. No one would hear him. No one would know just how broken he was. He’d considered leaving Charles, but who was he kidding, Charles was all he had. He didn’t know how he’d survive without him.

When Cordelia came to talk to him about Charles, Alastair panicked. He was relieved to hear she still accepted him, but how could she have eavesdropped on his private conversations? That hurt the most, knowing that even if she claimed to love him, she didn’t trust him. He knew she hadn’t meant to find out he liked men this way, but she’d followed him because she’d expected him to reveal secrets he’d promised to keep. He remembered how she’d called Charles cruel. How he’d defended Charles’ actions to her, claiming he wasn’t cruel, how everything he did was so they could be together.

Charles said that all the time, but Alastair wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. It seemed more like everything Charles did was to further his career, and sometimes Alastair felt like an afterthought. Or perhaps someone Charles could satisfy his physical needs with, only tolerating that Alastair loved him with everything he had. They usually met to have sex, after all, but there could be much more to being with someone. Like how he’d taken Thomas to a museum, had walked along the Seine with him… Charles didn’t want any of that. The longer he thought about it, the more sick he felt. He still went to see Charles, even if he was disgusted by what he’d done to miss Bridgestock, how he’d abandoned her when she was in coma and replaced her with miss Grace Blackthorn. Even if he wasn’t sure he still liked it when Charles touched him.

Perhaps Cordelia was right, perhaps he should leave him. Charles wasn’t going to be what Alastair needed. And then there was Thomas Lightwood… Thomas, who’d grown up to be tall and strong, but also brave and kind and heroic. Someone Alastair didn’t deserve for sure. But perhaps he could have another chance. Perhaps he could leave Charles.

He looked at his dagger collection, one of the few things that brought him comfort anymore. It felt like there was one stuck inside of him, had been for years. Removing it would hurt, but it was the only way to survive. Having made up his mind, Alastair began to write a letter. He remembered how Alastair had refused Thomas entry into his house, refused to let him make the antidote. How Thomas had insisted that he did know what he was doing. Thomas was a hero. Charles had almost ruined the antidote, and Alastair wasn’t even sure he would have minded. If miss Bridgestock had died, no one would be able to contradict his story of breaking off the engagement before she’d fallen ill.

He knew it wasn’t the best way to break it off, that he should face Charles, but he wasn’t sure he could. He knew how well Charles manipulated him, making him forget his worries with soothing words and kisses. He couldn’t face him, but hopefully if Charles read his letter, he’d know to leave him alone. He was done with this half love, and even if he would end up alone it would be better than whatever he was to Charles. He deserved better.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was an ordinary day of work. I’d just gotten to the office when Li Man’man opened the door and entered the room.

Li Man'man: No way, no way! You’ll never believe it! I’m doing all of you a favour by reminding you to behave today.

Brother Mao: Huh? What’s gotten you into such a tizzy?

Li Man’man rubbed the goosebumps that had arisen on her arms, shivering as she recalled what she’d seen.

Li Man'man: I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…

Li Man'man: I thought I’d turn into a block of ice in no time flat the moment our gazes met!

MC: What?

Hearing her recollection, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think back to what happened yesterday during lunch hour.

❖☆———————————★❖

At noon, I’d compiled a set of documents related to jewellery designs, just as Evan had requested and brought it up to his office.

A voice sounded from within when I knocked on the door of his office. It sounded unusually indifferent.

Evan: Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Pushing the door open, I saw Evan leaning against his chair, his brows were furrowed, hanging low, and there seemed to be thick storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

He was still staring blankly out the window in a daze when I went up to his desk.

Evan: Just leave it there.

MC: Okay.

Hearing me, he turned. The dark look on his face instantly lightened up.

Evan: Hm? Oh, it's you.

Evan: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.

Recalling the unusual look he had on his face when I entered, I couldn’t help but step on eggshells around him.

MC: Don't worry about it. Here are the documents you requested. Are you… okay?

Before he could reply, however, the landline on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting our conversation.

MC: I'll leave you to it!

Evan nodded apologetically at me and I took my leave from his office.

❖☆———————————★❖

Did something happen to make him unhappy…?

With his personality, he wouldn’t tell anyone about his troubles even if something WAS troubling him, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

When I got home at night, I switched on the TV. It was coincidentally broadcasting a camping-related program.

The lush green forest, the joyous chirruping of birds and their songs… Everything there was powered by Mother Nature’s power of healing, capable of washing away all exhaustion in one’s body and mind.

I didn't know why I thought of Evan again, but I did.

MC: There’s a gigantic forest at the outskirts of Guangqi City and it’s clear weather out all the time now.

MC: Maybe he might feel better if I can somehow get him out to the forest for a walk...

An idea popped into my head and I scrambled to fetch my phone, searching for the familiar name in my contacts.

I was just about to hit the call button when I suddenly thought of a plausible issue.

MC: I don’t think he’ll reject me regardless if he wants to go or not if I invite him directly like that.

MC: Maybe I should feel around for his thoughts about it so that I don’t unknowingly coerce him into anything.

After pondering it for a while, I hit the dial button.

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan: (Y/n)? What's the matter?

MC: … Evan, I… err, have gotten interested in coffee lately.

Evan: Really? What flavour of coffee do you like? I'll be glad to recommend you things.

MC: Oh… I haven't decided yet.

MC: Ahem, have you ever seen a coffee tree? I've never seen it myself with my own two eyes! I really want to go see one~

Evan: About that…

He sounded hesitant, there was no doubt about it. I awkwardly scratched my head. 

Did I come off too strange by bringing up that question out of the blue!?

Evan: Coffee trees have strict requirements when it comes to the environment they’re grown in. And as far as I’m aware, the PH levels of the soil and the amount of rainfall here in Guangqi City do not fit their criteria.

Evan: So, I'm afraid it'll be hard for you to spot one in Guangqi City.

Evan: But we can go see one together in Africa during your next vacation if you'd like.

MC: Eh? Africa? No need then.

MC: Ahaha… then, how about...

When there’s a will, there’s a way. I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the dark path in my mind.

MC: Then, what about a bamboo pith?

MC: I had some bamboo piths while eating hotpot a couple of days ago! I find that it’s a very amazing fungus! I really want to see one growing for myself!

Evan: It is. Although information is now widely accessible, it still hits different when you see it with your own eyes.

Evan: When are you free? We can go check it out together.

MC: Brilliant!

That's what I've been waiting for you to say!

MC: Are you free next weekend?

Evan: Yes, my weekends are open.

Evan: You… Are you this happy just to go to the forest for a walk?

MC: Hahaha, yeah! Super happy!

Evan: I'll come fetch you in my car next Saturday at 10 AM. Will that be alright?

MC: Sure! We're all set then!

Evan: Then, have you ever hiked or camped out before?

MC: No… but don't worry!

MC: I’ve watched lots of videos about camping on the internet! I’ll prepare all the equipment we’ll need this time!

Evan: Alright. I'll be leaving it all to you then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Soon, the appointed day arrived.

When I came downstairs lugging along a rucksack that towered about half a person tall, Evan, who was waiting by his car, looked slightly taken aback.

Evan: You…

I found myself blanking out as I stared at Evan, standing not too far away,

This was my first time seeing Evan dressed in such a casual manner.  The soft and form-fitting material of his clothes made his shoulders appear wider and him, much more reliable. It was reassuring, to say so in the least.

MC: Haha, did I bring one too many things? Actually, I think so too.

MC: In case we don't find a bamboo pith today, we can still camp overnight in the forest with this.

MC: Don't you think?

He smiled as he approached, taking the heavy bag off my shoulders.

Evan: Sounds good.

Evan: You must have fun and enjoy your first camping trip, if anything.

The tenderness in his countenance was the same as always. Where was that coldness to him that a certain someone had mentioned?

I secretly felt a wave of relief wash over me.

MC: Let's head out then!

❖☆———————————★❖

After driving on the suburban roads for nearly an hour, we finally reached an area near the forest on the outskirts of the City.

Evan gently took my bag out of the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

MC: That's pretty heavy. How about you let me carry it myself?

Evan: Since we're going to be travelling together anyway, how about we both give it our best?

MC: Alright then. Thanks!

❖☆———————————★❖

Stepping into the forest, lush green foliage surrounded us all around.

The ubiquitous noise and lights were all isolated from here, creating a secluded and serene atmosphere.

The air was warm, humid, and carried the sweet refreshing scent of vegetation. Relaxation was literally oozing out of my pores.

I turned around to look back at Evan. He was standing ramrod straight as usual with a blank expression on his face.

MC: Evan, we're here to relax!

Evan: Thank you. I am very relaxed.

MC: You can afford to be more relaxed. Here, follow me. Open your arms like this, take a deep breath, and go "Ahh…"

He smiled helplessly at me. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he mimicked my stance, opening his arms wide.

Evan: Ahh…

MC: Hahaha. Yup, just like that.

I took out a map and a compass from the bag.

MC: I will be the leader for today! I’ve already marked all the routes we can take. Let’s see… let’s go this way first!

Evan: Alright. As you say, leader.

We proceeded through the forest according to the directions shown on the map.

We chatted about the animals and plants that we saw as we walked. Or more accurately, Evan was the one introducing them all to me.

Evan: Sorry. It must be boring hearing me talk about all these.

MC: Nope. I’m actually even more interested after hearing you talk about them.

MC: Also, your expression changes into something a little different from what I’m used to whenever you talk about something you like.

Evan: Something that I like? I’m not really sure if it constitutes as me liking it, but I think I’ll like it if you do.

He smiled in a manner as if he didn’t mind it at all, stopping as he took out some tissues and a bottle of water from his bag.

Evan: Here. Wipe your sweat and hydrate yourself.

MC: Thanks.

The soft bubbling of running water entered our ears as we stopped to rest.

MC: Looks like there's a small rover up ahead, just like how it's drawn in the map!

Evan: Looks like the leader's leading well.

❖☆———————————★❖

Following the sound of running water, we soon found the river.

The clear stream rushed across the pebbles, the crystalline liquid glittering under the golden light of the sun. The wind that blew past the waters was very cool and very refreshing. It felt great on my slightly worn-out body.

MC: The cool breeze here by the river’s really nice! And the sound of dripping water’s also very calming.

Evan: Looks like there’s a flat rock over there where we can sit.

Evan: Do you want to rest for a bit?

I want to…

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

[oh-boy-me]

Alright I'm curious about your take on movie night with the undateables, including Luke since this is non- romance. Snack preferences, what movies they choose, funny stories from movie night. Whatever strikes your fancy with the idea is good with me. Thanks in advance!

Sorry it took a little bit (´ω｀���) It’s my first time working with these characters so I wanted to give it my absolute best

I’m setting this up as individual movie nights so that each character can get the spotlight for a while; I hope that’s ok!  Also, a lot of them somehow ended up in a context of it being the first time you’d hung out one on one lol

Simeon:

It feels like Simeon spends just about all of his time with Luke and Solomon, while you spend just about all of yours with the brothers.  So, you decide to have a movie night to finally spend some time together without having to divide your attention.  Purgatory Hall is the obvious choice of location, since its residents are much more ready to leave you alone when asked.

This angel is a traditional kind of guy, as angels tend to be, so popcorn is the only snack idea that comes to mind.  Traditional doesn’t mean close-minded, though, so he’s more than willing to try out any snacks you bring along.  Actually, he encourages you to bring a bunch of snacks to try out together!  You can have a taste test while you watch the movies!

Simeon likes Hallmark movie-type movies a lot, mainly because they demand little emotional investment.  Movies like horror don’t scare him, but they do stress him out because he wants all the protagonists to get their happy ending!  Another benefit of Hallmark movies is that it’s fun to try to guess exactly what will happen, since they can be so predictable.

Of course, he doesn’t want to monopolize your movie lineup, so if there’s something you want to see he’s all for it.  If you want to go for something more thrilling, he’ll power through it like a champ, but you can see him visibly cringing at some points.

Simeon is lowkey a movie cuddler, but like in a way that still respects your personal space bubble.  He won’t spend the film with you in his arms or anything, but the entire couch is fair game.

Simeon apparently likes to talk during movies–he doesn’t mean to, but the thoughts kind of just come out.  He’s brutally honest about what he’s thinking, so if you’re down with it, talking about and roasting the movie as it’s happening is a load of fun.  “I don’t know MC, I don’t think this guy’s all that great either?  Sure maybe he isn’t completely ignoring her, but look, he obviously has commitment issues; at least her ex was just busy all the time.  Look, Mr. Lone Wolf’s beard is uneven.  Why does she want a man who wants to look rugged but can’t get it right?”

Simeon also will accidentally spoil any movie he’s already seen like this, so you’re best off watching films that are new to both of you.

He knew that you were a nice and fun person, but honestly he’s kind of taken aback by how good you are to be around.  Since the only human he’s usually around is Solomon, talking to one and not feeling like you need to second-guess everything you’re told is a new and welcome feeling.

Before you split for the night, he asks if you’d like to do something like this again.  As an angel, there’s a lot that he hasn’t experienced–a lot of food, a lot of activities, a lot of media–and you’re someone that he feels like he would be comfortable trying new things with.  You can expect lots of texts like, “Hello!  I hope you’re doing wellヾ(＾-＾)ノ Are you free tomorrow?”

Luke:

You probably decide to have a movie night after Luke ends up spending way longer than he expected to in the kitchen at the House of Lamentation.  On the condition that absolutely no demons are to join you two!  Ok maybe Beel and Levi are ok but absolutely no one else!  After a call to Simeon explaining that he isn’t coming back to Purgatory Hall tonight you guys are good to go.

He always brings baked goods when he comes over, plus whatever he was working on in the kitchen, so you’re more than covered!  The majority of it is things like cookies and fudge bark.  They’re easy snacks to grab a handful of.

Luke tries to insist that he wants to watch a movie with lots of violence or a horror film, or any other kind of movie that teenagers sneak into.  He’s doing it because he’s so frustrated with everyone calling him a kid when he’s centuries older than a human will ever be, stop making fun of him!!  For his sake and yours, you should tell him that you don’t want to watch that sort of movie, because if you let him get away with it he’ll get too freaked out in the first 20 minutes.

Most likely you’ll end up having a Disney marathon.  They’re so fun, and since the Celestial Realm is pretty isolated when it comes to cultural exchange, he’s only seen a couple, so you can show him your favorites!  Also, he’s not crying.  No, you saw that wrong.

He starts off on the other side of the couch, one again trying to be mature and shit, but that won’t last long.  Anyone who sees you huddled together like that will be punched in the gut with the sheer level of sibling energy y’all are radiating.  Lucifer almost doesn’t want to mock him.  Almost.

That thing where immediately after consuming a piece of media, you imagine yourself as part of that universe?  Luke loves to talk about that sort of thing.  “If I lived there, I’d have given Gaston a piece of my mind!”  “Ok but if I was a piece of furniture what do you think I’d be?  I can totally see you being a…”

“I think you’d be the footstool that acts like a dog, Luke.”  “Hey, Lucifer, you weren’t invited to our party!!”

You might (will) have to fend off a few nosy demon brothers to protect your demon-free movie lair.  Luke swears that next time you have to come over to Purgatory Hall, but he’s having way more fun here than he’s willing to admit.

He also learns that most of the brothers will listen to you without complaint.  He will definitely keep this in mind.

This kid angel has so much energy, how is he still awake after five movies?  You absolutely have to establish a bedtime because he literally will not go to bed until you do.

Solomon:

It’s quite rare for you to have a break from the seven avatars of attention hogging, so if you’re going to have a movie night, Purgatory Hall may as well be a godsend.

You may want to be careful about getting there, because if Asmo catches wind that you and Solomon are having a movie night without him, he’s going to show up unannounced and then refuse to leave.  Solomon can come pick you up if you need.  Just, he’ll be waiting a block away so Asmo can’t catch up.

Solomon is a “dinner and a show” kinda guy.  He will offer to make dinner.  Do not let him do this.  Either make it yourself or order takeout.

You’ll pretty easily agree on alternating who chooses the movie.  You get the first, he gets the second, you get the third, etc.  Definitely isn’t letting you choose first to lure you into a false sense of security about the DVD in his hand, what made you think that?

Solomon is the kind of person to lie about what sort of movie he’s put in.  “Solomon what is this supposed to be?”  “Oh, don’t worry about it.”  It’s gonna be a weird movie.  You just have to wait and see.

He is going to rip into your movie choices.  He liked how they worked with this, and that was impressive, but these bits?  Did they think they could get away with that?  What was the budget?  Rest assured, though, he expects you to do the same for him.  In fact, he’ll be quite disappointed if you don’t.

He prefers a setup on his bed rather than on the couch.  He’s also one of the ones who keeps to himself in terms of personal space, although that’s not to say that he isn’t relaxed.  Some might say he’s too relaxed, but that’s just who he is: too relaxed in any situation.  On the surface, at least.

As the only humans in the Devildom, some of the night is probably spent reminiscing on how different things tend to be here.  Solomon does feel bad that you in particular have had to make so many changes to your life and habits with no warning.  He has his magic to rely on, so he’s glad you have your reputation of “the human that made a pact with the student council” to keep demons from messing with you.

If you want, he’s happy to let you sleep over so that you don’t have to explain why you’re coming home so late.  He also encourages you to not say anything to your dorm mates.  Wouldn’t it be fun to make them wonder?  They’re always breathing down your neck, aren’t they?  Make them squirm a little bit.  You’re going to get a scolding for sneaking out regardless.  It’s incredibly cruel; you know they worry sick about you more than is called for.  Will you play along?  That’s up to you.  I advise you not to.

Like Simeon felt like he needed to second-guess everything around a bunch of demons and Solomon, Solomon sometimes feels like he needs to keep himself guarded around a bunch of demons and two literal angels.  You, however, are a human.  You have common ground, and Solomon can see how your vulnerability here translates into strength.  He’s not quite ready to admit it but, your ability to survive on character and not power is inspiring to him.  Shortly before you go home/to sleep, he mentions something about himself, and for once it seems like he’s being honest.

Barbatos:

You have the movie night at the House of Lamentation, under Lucifer’s promise that he’d keep everyone else busy.  It’s Barbatos’ first day off in 325 years, and he doesn’t want to take any chances of Diavolo forgetting that fact and giving him an order.

It may come as a surprise, but Barbatos wants nothing more than to order a pizza.  If he managed to get enough time off to have a movie night with you, he doesn’t want to have to think about preparing food.  A single night where he can just hang out and eat less than perfectly prepared cuisine is exactly what he needs to unwind.

Out of habit, he insists that whatever you want to watch is fine.  If you remind him that this is just as much for him as it is for you, he’ll suggest you look up what new psychological thrillers are trending.  Whenever a scary scene is playing on the screen, there’s the tiniest smile gracing his face the whole time.  It’s a little disconcerting, but something tells you that you shouldn’t bring it up.

If you do bring it up against all better judgement, though, he’ll explain that the villain in the film is being so messy.  Given the circumstances, it’d be better for him to do this or that.

“Don’t ask how I know all of this.  I’m just saying, if you find yourself with a body to dispose of, alive or not, you know who to call.”

Time spent with an off-duty Barbatos grows more relaxed as the night progresses.  You split the sofa 50/50, and over time you can see his posture relax from stiff and straight to leaning against the arm with his feet up.

Oh, yes, he’s also brought along a nice bottle of wine to share.  He made sure to get something that should affect demons and humans equally, of course.  If he’s going to get inebriated, you’re going down with him.

Turns out, working for the Demon Prince for all eternity gives you a few grievances.  Also turns out that the Demon Prince’s butler becomes quite loose lipped and downright snarky when he’s had enough to drink.  “‘Which flavor do you think Lucifer would like best?’  I don’t know, My Lord, might I suggest you ask him yourself?  No, no, I hear you laughing, MC!  This happens every time!”

There’s still a movie playing, but why would you watch a movie when Diavolo’s butler is such a gossip?  You definitely know things you shouldn’t by the time the night is over, but you swear an oath of secrecy.  And, although he regrets how liberal he was with his stories the next day, it does feel nice to have some of that off his chest.

And, well, he’s already gone this far, so he hopes you aren’t too surprised when you receive a text from him a week later: “Ok SO.”

Diavolo:

You guys decide to do the movie night at the palace, mainly to avoid Lucifer.  Diavolo wants to get to know you better, and he knows that if Lucifer is around he’ll end up making you the third-wheel.

Barbatos is going to be around, so Diavolo leaves it up to you whether you want to make it a party of three.  (Barbatos is still in on-duty mode, of course, so his time here is much less relaxed than in his solo scenario.)

Diavolo’s read about movie nights in Youthful Fun 101, and he wants to try out the whole snack list.  Popcorn, pizza rolls, sodas, you name it, he’s got mountains of it.

If you suggest also making ice cream sundaes, he’ll be the happiest demon in the entire Devildom.  It seems that the esteemed Demon Prince really loves chocolate sauce.

Really really wants to watch your favorite movie.  What sort of Devildom host would he be if he didn’t get to understand the Human World from his guest’s perspective?  Whether it’s something like Gone with the Wind or something like Barbie in a Mermaid Tale 2, he’s enthralled.  So this is Human World cinema!  There’s something so imaginative about it, even in the driest moments!

After your favorite, he’s got a checklist of iconic movies to get under his belt.  Not all of them end up holding your attention, and you develop a voting system–after the first 15 minutes, you hold a vote on whether to keep the movie going or to move on.  Since there’s only two of you, only one of you needs to like the movie to keep it going, so you give yourselves one immediate veto each.

Diavolo uses his veto on the first movie he wasn’t super into, and you have to keep reminding him that there’s no secret second veto that he can use.  Cut him some slack, this level of democracy is unfamiliar to the future Demon King.  He does end up really liking some of the movies he tried to avoid, so he learns to chill pretty quickly.

Also insists on watching the movies in a massive blanket fort.  He’s not a movie cuddler, per se, but he is an emotional movie watcher, so you can expect him to grab your arm during an especially sweet or sad scene.

You’re going to have to clarify what’s realistic and what isn’t sometimes.  No, that’s not a real animal.  Yes, that event really happened.  That may or may not be true, we aren’t sure.  Diavolo please this is a conspiracy theory.

If you thought that this wouldn’t end up in a sleepover, I don’t know what to tell you.  Maybe you just tried to watch way too many movies and passed out in the fort.  Maybe you tried to call it quits and then he gave you big puppy dog eyes until you agreed to have a slumber party.

Side note, but Lucifer is still recovering from seeing Diavolo’s car appear unannounced at the House of Lamentation and then being told that it’s actually here to pick you up and that he absolutely can’t come along.  Has he been replaced?

Masterlist

[tracybirds]

To Stumble and To Falter

(A title? you who know my intense dislike of titling fics may all give a cheer, no need for further reading, thank you, thank you xD)

John faints and Virgil is suspicious of the cause. Includes some Dr Grandma bc we need more of that in our lives!

Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for bluntly telling me to write the fic and then reading it over in bits to help me fix it up :D

And if I’ve written Jon anywhere let me know, my H key is being temperamental... I think I’ve got them all but still :D

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The stumbling step hardly drew attention from anyone else, John tripped so often when bound by the laws of gravity. By his own admission, this particular re-entry had been of the hard and fast variety, the kind that left him a little hazy and wobbly. Only Virgil looked up at the sound of a foot not lifted high enough and banging into the staircase.

The crash that followed however, echoed around the room as brother by brother snapped into action.

“Medkit,” barked Virgil, darting across the room in three bounding steps. His command followed Gordon out of the room as he knelt next to John. He could feel the sluggish pulse beneath clammy skin and hurriedly ran his hand across the lump that was forming at the back of John’s head. There was no blood, he noted with some relief.

“Alright Scott, get his feet up.”

Scott quickly complied as Alan popped up next to Virgil.

“Is he okay?”

“Give him some space, he’ll be fine.”

Alan scooted back, reassured by the authority that rung in his older brother’s voice.

“How badly did he hit his head?” asked Scott.

“Nasty bump, but with a bit of luck nothing more. Look, he’s coming around.”

John’s eyes fluttered open as Gordon skidded into the room, nearly throwing the medkit at Virgil in his hurry.

“Wha’ happened?” mumbled John.

“What do you remember?” asked Virgil, as he strapped the icepack in place.

John batted weakly at his own neck, trying to escape Virgil’s care.

“I was walking up the stairs?”

“Didn’t even make it to the third step this time,” quipped Gordon. “You going for a record or something?”

“Gordon,” growled Scott, and he bounded away with a grin.

“You fainted,” Virgil clarified. He frowned at the lazy way John’s pupils followed the light. “And you’re on the concussion watchlist, congratulations.”

John groaned, a high whiny sound that earned him a cushion snatched from the nearby couch and laid lovingly over his head.

“Thanks,” came his muffled voice. “I feel fine.”

Scott and Virgil shared an exasperated look, remembering the last time an injured John had insisted he was ‘fine’.

“Sure John, whatever you say. You feel okay to walk?”

“Maybe. Is Alan there?”

“Sure is.”

“Might need a hand getting up.”

Alan grabbed his hand and hauled him upright. The change did not improve Virgil’s assessment of John. He pitched slightly to the side and Alan and Virgil both grabbed at him.

“Easy.”

Virgil could feel the tremors running through him, the heavy, deliberate breathing loud in his ears as he held up his brother.

“Dizzy? Nauseous?”

The barest nod sent Gordon hurrying from the room in search of a bowl.

“It’s probably vertigo, it’ll pass.”

“Thanks,” said John, through gritted teeth. “I know that.”

He took a few steps towards the staircase that had been his undoing and paused. The small motion had been enough for the colour to leech from his skin again.

Virgil was at his side immediately, steadying hands against his back.

“Maybe walking isn’t a great idea right now.”

John said nothing, standing as still as he could while he swayed with his eyes closed.

Virgil was several inches shorter than his brother, but this was no object for him, hoisting John into his arms.

His eyes flew open at the touch and he stared up at the ceiling in surprise.

“Medbay or bedroom?”

“I hate you.”

“Medbay it is then.”

“No, bedroom is good,” said John quickly.

“Glad you’ve come around.” Virgil glanced over his shoulder, catching Scott’s eye and nodding towards Alan. “Go update Grandma. She’ll want to check him out for herself.”

“I hope I do throw up,” said John with a scowl. “You’d deserve it.”

Virgil ignored him, knowing his brother was just embarrassed. He climbed the stairs easily, heading for the isolated area of the villa that John made his own when he came to visit.

He kicked open the door, and placed his brother on his bed. John was still scowling up at him.

“Was that necessary?”

“Yes.” He snatched up a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and cracked it open.

“I don’t need to be read to like a child.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can explain all the hidden maths to me and I’ll pretend to understand what you’re talking about.”

“Really Virgil, I’ll be fine.”

Virgil shrugged and replaced the book. Swinging the desk chair around, he sat and propped his feet up on the bed, leaning back to look at John.

“Probably.”

“You don’t really think I have a concussion do you? I’m alert, no headache unless I poke in the wrong place, no vomiting or confusion.”

“You’re dizzy, nauseous, unable to hold your balance, and clearly agitated.”

“You’re agitating, that’s why,” muttered John.

“And it’s been a while since you had a fainting spell like that. I thought we had that sorted out.”

John said nothing. Virgil raised an eyebrow, a niggling suspicion starting form in the back of his mind.

“There’s not any particular reason you would know of that would cause that, is there?”

“Long term exposure to microgravity?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes.

John smiled guilelessly.

His brother’s eyes flitted to the bedside table and, in one fluid motion, Virgil vaulted across the bed and yanked the drawer open.

John yelped at the sudden mass lying across him, scrabbling at Virgil’s hands and pulling uselessly against him.

Virgil held the monthly drug planner away from him, scowling at John as he attempted to pry the box out of his hands. He shoved John back and flipped his prize over with a futile hope that only the last remaining days of the month were creating the rattling sound inside. Instead he found nearly every compartment still filled with the little supplement packets John was meant to be taking daily.

“What the hell, John?” Virgil smacked his arm with the box. “Why aren’t you taking these?”

“I forgot?”

Virgil glared at him.

“Try again, you’ve never been less than intentional about a damn thing in your entire life.”

Stubborn silence stretched long in the room and Virgil filled every second with fears and possibilities and visions of his brother collapsing and confined to the Earth forever.

“We trust you John, you can’t just do this,” he growled, waving the box at John. “Your health has to come first, you’re alone up there, and if you get into trouble, who’s going to help you? Alan?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You’d really make him come up and get you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

The shout erupted from him, its echo only stoking the frustration that yet again one of his brothers had chosen to ignore the medical procedures laid out before them. He took a steadying breath, hating the way his brother curled away from him.

“It’s not fair of you to put us in that position, it’s not fair to expect me to always pick up the pieces.”

“I know what I can handle, you’re choosing to worry unnecessarily.” Fire flickered in his eyes. His face was pale but his cheeks were tinged with blotchy red.

Virgil snorted. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about John passing out again with so much blood pooling in his head.

“This isn’t about you getting to decide, this is about you doing as you’re told. You’re not the only one with a stake in your damn life, stop acting as if you’re the only one who matters in this situation. You take your pills because if you don’t, you won’t just injure yourself, you’ll fracture this whole family all over again.”

“Stop it.”

“No, you stop it. Stop being selfish and think. Do you even care that it damn near killed Alan the last time? Of course you don’t, you weren’t there afterwards. You never are. We care about whether you get hurt or not, you could at least pretend to do the same.”

“Virgil.”

The calm of his Grandma’s voice slammed into him, freezing the moment in place.

For an instant, Virgil could see the room from the outside, him towering over his bed-bound brother, brandishing the box in front of him. John’s eyes were closed, his face pulled into a frown. He lay still with his head tilted up on the pillow, determined that even while he shut Virgil out there could be no chance of accidental connection between them.

“Scott, take your brother please.”

There was no doubt about who she meant. Scott stepped around her and tugged the container from Virgil’s hands.

The short, sharp rattle of pills made him flinch away as Scott laid them back on the bedside table, eyes dark with worry as he looked between them.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, eyes lingering on Virgil’s frozen expression.

Scott pulled him from the room, but the way John stiffened at their grandmother’s gentle hand on his shoulder stayed with Virgil long after the door was closed.

Virgil backed up against the wall opposite the door and sank to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Scott, dropping down beside him. “I leave you two for five minutes and come back to you tearing out his throat? For what, fainting? Give the guy a break, it’s not like he can help it.”

“I’ll take that bet,” said Virgil, scowling at the door. “He’s not been taking his pills, Scott. Which means we don’t have a damn clue where his vitamin or mineral levels are at now, or how long they’ve been deficit for. And they will be deficient.”

“But you and Grandma can sort him out right? It’s not like this is new.”

“Only if he listens to us. We can’t force him to take them, he’s not a child.”

The image of John, pale and unmoving, floated in front of him again and wrapped itself around his heart. A sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes, trying to blot out the image.

“Look, if he won’t, there’s going to be consequences. His health, our trust, something will have to give eventually and I’m not willing to pay for his mistakes.”

Scott blinked.

“But if there were a way to force him,” he said slowly. “I could make his rotation conditional, it wouldn’t be hard.”

“And why the hell would he listen to you?”

“We could put checks in place so he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Let me rephrase that, why the hell should he listen to you?”

“I get the final say over assignments, I can–”

"You're just as bad as he is," snarled Virgil. "How many times have you explicitly ignored my advice. You can't command him to take them while you're still blasting off with broken ribs."

"They were strapped."

"That's not the point!"

“Okay.” Scott’s hands were surrendered in front of him in an attempt to fend off the vehemence in Virgil’s voice. “Okay, jeez, fine. Are you mad at him or not?”

“Of course I’m mad at him.” Virgil slumped against the wall. “He’s supposed to be the one I don’t have to worry about.”

He didn’t feel mad anymore. He just felt the creeping exhaustion that came with caring for a brother that didn’t want his help.

Scott tilted his head back and exhaled heavily.

“Did he say why?”

Virgil shook his head.

“I didn’t give him the chance.” He ran a hand down his face. “He’s not stupid, he knows how important this kind of thing is.”

“It might have been an accident.”

“For twenty four days in a row?”

“Okay, point.”

The door clicked open and both men sprang to their feet. Before they could say anything, Grandma Tracy held up a hand and walked away, beckoning them to follow her.

They didn’t say a word as Grandma Tracy ushered them into her sitting room.

“How is he, Grandma?” asked Scott, unable to hold back any longer.

“He’ll be right as rain come morning. He’s sleeping now.”

“Is that wise?” Virgil asked, his mind still overrun with worries.

Grandma Tracy clucked her tongue gently.

“You know as well as I do that sleeping doesn’t cause the complications that come from concussion. We’ll keep monitoring him, same as always. Although it looked like a mere scalp wound, not a brain injury, to me.”

Virgil looked over at Scott, the relief mirrored in their expressions.

“The other issue however, that’s more complex.” She opened the door to her rooms and nodded at the seats inside. “Sit down, both of you.”

They sat.

“What’s he told you?” she asked Scott brusquely.

“John’s refusing to take his supplements. He’s gonna get himself hurt.”

“John’s struggling up on Five with daily medications,” she said bluntly. “He’s not refusing. The days are too fragmented, and there’s no chance for him to build habit triggers with the pace he’s keeping.”

Virgil’s stomach dropped. Of course John wasn’t being malicious or stubborn about it. He should have known. He should have asked.

“Well, that’s good, right?” said Scott, nudging him. “It’s not deliberate?”

“It’s not deliberate,” repeated Virgil, still internally cursing the ridiculous conclusion he’d jumped to. To say nothing of the painful accusations he’d made.

Grandma Tracy cleared her throat, drawing their attention again. Her eyes were serious.

“I’ve taken a blood sample, and in a few hours we’ll know the most urgent actions to take. EOS can monitor his daily activity for a few weeks and identify tasks we can tie his supplement use to. Then it’s just a matter of checking in until he’s ready to go back to full capacity.”

“Seems straightforward,” said Scott, glancing at Virgil. “What do you think?”

Grandma Tracy’s eyes shifted to meet his own.

“It sounds like a good plan, Grandma.”

She nodded firmly, eyeing the two brothers in front of her.

“Well if that’s decided, we’d best go break the news to your brothers that they have a dispatch refresher coming their way.”

Scott laughed. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

“They do need the practice,” said Virgil with a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as they stood.

They stepped out of the sitting room. He paused, staring at the hallway that lead to John’s room. It seemed to stretch far ahead of him and the way it curved into dark corners somehow seemed all the more ominous for the dread and regret that weighed upon him. His feet were leaden, but he forced himself to turn away from Scott and Grandma Tracy and walk towards the hall.

“Are you coming, Virgil?” Grandma Tracy’s voice was quiet but it broke through the whirling thoughts in his mind.

The door at the far end was ajar, a tiny gap that called to him as a clear invitation.

“Actually, I have something I need to do first,” he said, walking towards it. “You go on, I’ll talk to them after.”

Grandma Tracy smiled.

“You’re a good man, Virgil,” she said, patting his shoulder. “We’ll see you later.”

Decision made, he could move easily again and the hallway seemed to brighten with every step.

Virgil slipped into the room and found John appeared to be sleeping peacefully, the exertion of the day catching up with him at last.

He settled himself back on the chair, watching the slow rise and fall of John’s chest in the gloom. An arm had been flung across his forehead and Virgil smiled to see the small Yoda plaster over the prick on his index finger.

He picked up Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from where he’d placed it earlier and flicked on his pen torch, a tiny beam of light illuminating the words.

“You can turn the desk light on if you want.”

Virgil jumped slightly at the calm, measured voice. He glanced over and saw John watching him, one eye still closed and the other bright and alert.

“You don’t mind?”

John shook his head and so Virgil did as he was told. The soft glow that lined the desk spilled onto the page and across the room.

There was no sound but the rustle of turned pages and even breathing.

“You could read it to me,” said John suddenly.

Virgil looked up, spotting the shining eye and the tilted head that told him John wasn’t going to hold his fears against him. He swallowed carefully past the lump in his throat. He knew a peace offering when he saw it, knew they held words that would be left unsaid between them. He wouldn’t reject a sincere attempt to mend fences, especially when he had been the fool that smashed them.

He nodded once and John closed his eyes with a content sigh.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do…”

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Maths and Alice you ask? Some very cool theories about the meaning and context in which Alice was written can be found [here]

[plomujio]

Deserter part 2

Abby and the others were gone for weeks when I suddenly heard some soldiers calling their names. I sighed of relief and I headed for them. After opening the door of my workshop I saw all of them alive and I joined them. I approached them and I met Abby's eyes. She seemed exhausted.

"Mi mejor amiga ! "

Manny hugged me by surprise. I hugged him back and I saw Mel who seemed angry so I asked her what's wrong.

"Mel are you alright ?"

Mel looked at me and I saw that she wanted to say something but she held her sentence back.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. I go to sleep."

"I will join you after." Said Owen.

I left Manny and then I hugged Abby who was quiet and awkward. She hugged me too.

"I'm glad you're fine. What happened out there ?"

"I will tell you inside. I need a cup of coffee."

"Oh ? Right sorry."

Abby and I left Jordan, Nora and Manny and we went to the cafeteria. I went and got her a cup of coffee and I offered her the coffee. I sat in front of her and she started drinking her coffee while I was eating my bagel.

"So ?"

"I found him and his brother while I was attacked by a horde of infected, they helped me and then I brought them to the chalet where the others were. I shot him and then Mel took care of him and I tortured him but then a girl entered in the room. She was from Jackson too. She was screaming and begging me to spare him but I did it anyway. Then the others wanted to kill her and his brother but Owen and I stopped them."

"Awesome." I murmured.

"And now we're here."

"And Mel ? Why does she seem angry ?"

"She didn't approved how I managed the situation."

"That's understanding. She's a doctor, she doesn't torture people, she heals them."

"Yeah well she wanted to kill the girl and Joel's brother so I don't think that she has the right to be angry at me."

"Really ? That doesn't seem like Mel."

"She kills Scars every day but all of you are considering her like a saint."

"That's right. You think the girl will try to avenge Joel ?"

"I don't think so."

"And his brother ?"

"Nope."

"Good !"

I heard someone approaching us so I turned over and I saw Jordan.

"What's up Jordan ?"

"Isaac wants you to go to the hospital with Nora and others for cleaning it and taking all of the medical stuff that you could found."

"Okay. Tell Nora I'm coming. I have to take some stuff in room."

"Okay I'll tell her."

"Thanks Jordan."

He gave me a wink and he left us.

"The hospital ? Why does we need more medical stuff ?"

"We always need medical stuff Abby."

"Yeah but we never clean the hospital for a reason it's because it's the epicentre of the epidemic, it's dangerous."

"Yeah that's why we clean the upper floors, we're not stupid Abby, It's not because it's an order coming from Isaac that we will go risking our lives."

"Just be careful. Alright ?"

"I will be."

I stood up and I left Abby. I opened the door and I went to my room to take a bag with some food and clothes. It will take time to clean the hospital certainly days and I went outside for joining Nora. I saw her in the car with others soldiers.

"We are waiting for you."

"Well I'm here."

I got in the car on the passenger seat next to Nora. She drove and I put some music.

__________________________3 days after____________________________

I was carrying boxes when I heard a noise coming from behind me. I put the boxes on the ground and I drew my gun. Lately intruders entered on our territory and killed some of our soldiers so I am wary. I waited for the person and then I heard boxes falling. I turned around and I saw Abby. I could see a mark on her neck.

"Abby ?"

"Zoya ?"

"What are you doing here ? And what happened to you ?"

"That's a long story and I don't have time. I need medical stuff."

She offered me a list where I could see that they were medical stuff writing on it. It seems to be Mel's handwriting.

"Why do you need that ?"

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Abby."

She looked at me in silence so I gave up.

"I'm sorry but all of the medical stuff that you want is already on the way to Isaac. I can't help you."

"You are sure that there is no more medical stuff on this list that is staying in this hospital ?"

"Well, I know that in the below levels there is medical stuff who is staying certainly the one who are on your list, but you said it yourself it's the epicentre of the epidemic. I don't know what you will found there."

"I need this stuff. I have to go. Thanks."

"Wait !"

I took her hand and I looked at her.

"Who's hurt ?"

"I don't have time."

"You're losing time in not telling me what happened."

"You will certainly think I'm crazy but it's a Scar."

I release her hand and I tried to assimilate what she was saying to me.

"His name is Lev. He and his sister Yara saved me from the others Scars and Yara is hurt badly. I need medical stuff for her. Mel and Owen are with them at the aquarium, Mel will operate on her."

"Then go. You don't have time for talking."

Abby smiled at me and then she took back her list and she started leaving the room.

"If you want, you can join us at the aquarium when you'll have finished."

"I'll be there."

"Good."

She smiled and I smiled back and then she left the room and she went to the isolation rooms. I kept cleaning the last boxes that I had, for at least half an hour when I felt a knife under my neck. I raised my hands and I heard her talking.

"Where is Abby ?"

"Take this knife out of my neck and maybe I'll tell you."

"Okay."

She removed her knife and she turned back and I saw her aiming her gun on me.

"Where is she ?"

"Who are you ?"

She approached her gun from my head and she grumbled.

"Last chance."

"Answer me and I'll answer you."

"That's not how it's work. I'm the one with the gun on your head so your answer me or I'll blew your fucking brain out."

With my foot I pushed her hard and she fell on the ground. I had time to take my gun so I aimed at her forehead and she has her gun on my forehead too.

"Now I can blew your fucking brain out too. The difference is that you want an information when I just want to kill you so what will stop me to do it ?"

"Listen. I just need to know where is Abby. I don't care about anyone else."

"Really ? Then why are my friends dead ? You are the intruder, you killed a lot of our soldiers and you say that you are here only for Abby ?"

"They were in my way."

"Well you're in way too."

"I will have time to kill you, you know."

"So what ? I don't care if I die, at least I would have protected people I love."

"She deserves this after what she did and I won't stop until she's dead."

I thought about what she was saying and I finally understand but while I was thinking she punched me in the face with her gun and I fell against the wall. She disarmed me and she knelt in front of me.

"Now we can talk. Where is Abby ?"

She put her gun against my neck.

"Go to hell Ellie."

I saw her being unsettled. She was clearly not ready that I use her name.

"How do you know my name ?"

"I know that Abby killed Joel Miller and you seem really upset about his death. I know that are immune and that Joel took you out of the hospital after he killed a bunch of people."

She seemed shocked and I tried to catch my gun but she twisted my arm.

"You're a Firefly ?"

"Yeah. I was there this day with my sister. I hid but my sister didn't. He was shooting anything that moves, she took a stray bullet and she died. Then I saw him getting out with you in his arms."

"But you didn't try to avenge your sister ?"

"Why would I ? Abby was there and I thank her everyday for killing him.

To be totally honest it's a total liar and I only said that for destabilized her. I loved my sister and she loved me but when she died I didn't find the necessity to murder her killer. I'm not like Abby and I don't think that this is what my sister would have wanted. I think it's also not what her father would have wanted but it's Abby choice not Jerry. I saw her flinch and I took her knife and I put it into her shoulder. She grumbled and she took it off and then she looked at me. I probably look miserable but I don't give a fuck. I'm gonna die and nobody is here to save me.

"You all deserve what is happening to you. If you don't want to tell where she is then it's okay I know that Nora is here too, maybe she tell me where Abby is. I didn't want to hurt you at first because you didn't do anything to him but I changed my mind."

"You are easily irritable but you have to know something Abby will come to you if you do this."

"Good."

I saw her taking her knife and I tried to struggle but she was holding my head she slowly pulled her knife in my throat and I started crying because of the pain. She pulled her knife out and I tried to breathe but I couldn't. I looked at her in distress but I just heard her saying three words.

"You deserve this."

_________________________Abby's Pov_____________________________

I was going back up when I suddenly saw bloody footprints. I drew my gun and I followed the footprints. After a while I noticed that the footprints were leading to the room where Zoya was before. I slowly approached the room and I opened the door and I saw her. She was laying on the ground. She has been stabbed in the throat. I knelt next to her and I tried to feel her pulse in her wrist even if I know that this was useless because she was already dead.

"No...no... I'm so sorry..."

I looked next to her and I saw that she has wrote something on the ground with her blood. I moved my head for reading what she wrote.

"JOEL

GIRL

CAREFUL"

I stood up and I closed her eyes.

"I will avenge you."

And then I left the room and I joined Lev who didn't understand what happened. After I will have save Yara, I will go kill her and nothing could ever stop me.

[mnogorgannik]

2 10 n 11 :)

this is basically an essay im so sorry. watch how hard i can infodump (ill put this under a cut hopefully it works bc sometimes tumblr decimates the keep reading things if theyre in asks)

2. Who’s your favorite of the Bound? What do you think of the different ideologies they have? Which of the factions are you most aligned with?

WE ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER I AM A PETER LOVER THROUGH AND THROUGH!!!!!! oh baby i love that morally questionable architect. pretty early on in getting into pathologic (it’s coming up on a year now...) i thought about peter stamatin too hard and now i’m here. but really i find him to be such a fascinating character!

the thing about pathologic that i love is how almost every character can be as complex as you want. pathologic does an excellent job of implying a lot of character traits while only exploring some in further detail, which in some games is frustrating but patho does it so well! it consistently hints at traits and lets you fill in the details yourself. peter’s character is extremely interesting to me... and maybe a little more relatable at times than i want to admit lol.

i think i’ll talk about both stamatins though! their dynamic hurts me a lot. i’ll start with andrey bc i’ve been thinking about him lately. although i’ll bounce back and forth between both stamatins.

i’ve said this before but i’ll say it again.... andrey’s role as a protector who inadvertently hurts the people he cares about really gets to me. he is not a shield but, in his own words, a battering ram. and the problem is that battering ram has a recoil.

i have to wonder how that mentality of his came about, anyways. the implication is that it’s always just been him and peter, so did he take on that role because there wasn’t anyone else to do it?

in his efforts to protect peter from... military, i believe, he kills four people. which leads to daniil getting mistaken for andrey, which leads to daniil getting shot. and almost dying. he protects peter but to a smothering extent, peter even says he’s been suffering for ten years bc of andrey which is a LOADED line. he protects on a physical level but he kinda fucks up on the emotional.

there’s a horrible irony in peter and eva being the people he cares about the most and both attempting suicide. with eva once she’s missing he immediately goes running off trying to look for her, and . ahh i can’t remember right off hand what exactly he thought happened. but ik he was probably expecting a fight. with peter he says that after that he’ll never let peter leave his side, at least “as far as his knife can fly”... it sounds cheesy but the one thing he can’t save anyone from is themself.

and god the way andrey bases his ENTIRE sense of self worth on peter fucking hurts. they’re not peter and andrey, the architects. they’re Peter And Andrey, The Architect. (thinking about “one architect, two brothers” here.) andrey thinks he’s larger than life and all but he’s constantly living in peter’s shadow. their theatre of death positions come to mind here, with peter standing up, looking down at andrey. but andrey is on his knees in front of peter, arms limp to his sides.... separated by a wooden beam...

peter’s side of this dynamic is fascinating too. his dependency on andrey is. ow. leaving all practical matters and decision making to him... there’s this resentment (That’s Fine I’ve Been Suffering For Ten Years Because Of Him) and lack of communication that especially shows through for him.

while in p2 andrey completely crumbles if peter dies, peter doesn’t seem to care...... at all....?? which hopefully is elaborated upon in p2. he’s willing to talk to aspity about worrying if andrey is angry with him but he can’t bring it up with andrey himself. when he asks how andrey is doing he stops and says andrey is a “tough man” and can handle anything. in general, while it’s definitely there for andrey, themes of dependency are really glaringly obvious for peter.

one of my favorite peter things i’ve talked about before is still his ego!!! peter has a gigantic ego!!! he really does think that even though he’s hit the ceiling and can’t go any further he is still “a true architect” and “the rock upon which is built the stairway to tomorrow”. he has a blunt edge to him and he doesn’t ever tell you more than he thinks he needs to which i love. if he doesn’t want to tell you something he isn’t gonna do it. this is a character trait i think ppl miss which is sad because it’s so good and adds another layer of depth to him!

it really does hurt me how he’s valued for his mind alone (AHEM AHEM AHEM. GEORGIY) but it’s the thing nobody understands about him. i’m nowhere near as smart as peter lol but i do know that pain of feeling like none of your ideas can be understood because you just can’t express them the way you’d like, and then feeling like you’ll never be able to make it happen.

also, here’s a little thing  i’ve picked up on. this connection probably doesn’t exist but i’m making it because the stamatins make me lose my mind and start becoming one of those people who looks for connections in everything i guess. peter standing in the theatre of death, andrey below him. peter’s loft being at a high point in the town, the broken heart being underground. peter’s loft is also higher north on the map but the broken heart is lower south. just smth interesting

i have more thoughts on them of course! but this is all getting awfully long. i feel like i’ve only just gotten to the tip of the iceberg  even though i’ve written so much skfjskfjs this just feels quite surface level or. at least what is surface level for me who thinks about the stamatins so hard.

anyways i’ll keep my answers to the other two parts of this question quick! peter and andrey’s more creative vs practical mindsets are rly neat. especially because i would actually argue peter is a little more grounded in reality in certain aspects. not all, but certain ones...... their take on the utopian ideology is interesting. hot take: peter’s version of utopianism leans a tad towards humility. and andrey /does/ feel “straightforward utopian” but i think in certain regards? this man has a bit of a termite streak..... (hi al if you’re reading this). but i won’t get into that right now i’ve already gone on so long. saving that for later.

i think all of the factions kinda suck in their own way sometimes, honestly? although all of them are well written and have their pros and cons. were i in pathologic and i had to choose one i’d probably be a termite but everyone around me seems to think i’m a utopian. is it bc i love peter so much

10. What would you be like as a Pathologic character?

this question is a hard one! i did make a self insert once, mile-a-minute, but they’ve become their own oc by now. i think i’d be very...... very afraid...... probably isolating myself why does every pathologic character break quarantine???? also you could trade beetles with me :) thats about all i’ve got sorry this is real short

11. What is something you would change, writing-wise, about either game?

UGH i’ve been gushing about pathologic because. obviously i love this game so much. but the way it handles racism & such (in both games!) leaves much to be desired :/

i see a lot of the points it’s trying to make but i think the way they’re handled can be very messy. there are moments that work very well but. a lot that don’t. (i am aware that dybowski writes partially from his own experiences)

all too often the game “validates” the kin’s oppression and... at times paints them as oddly antagonistic? i don’t like how often as artemy you’re able to be like “i’m not one of those beasts” and i think there are better ways to touch on his internalized racism. in general the constant comparisons to animals is weird. you get big vlad who is obviously explicitly racist comparing them to animals, but then sometimes it’s like “ACTUALLY calling them animals is fine :)”

i think the herb brides are kind of. Hm. in their portrayal. also using parts of the buryat alphabet to denote an accent is weird. making odongh and herb brides inhuman is weird. connecting the kin to Magic is weird.

and, listen, i’d really like to not be playing Artemy Burakh Experiences a Microaggression Simulator every time i’m playing the haruspex route. hate that you either can’t call ppl out on their shit or if you can it ends the conversation/bars you from getting necessary information. glad you at least get to drag the vlads, i guess?

i also was talking about this but wrt peter specifically, and this issue is present throughout the game but it’s especially visible with peter, i don’t like how often you can mock him for his addiction.

he’s obviously in an extremely rough patch! being able to be just so plain cruel to him about the dependency on alcohol (and iirc in p1 hallucinogens, bc aglaya mentions it) he’s formed to cope with his mental illness & trauma just feels bad. especially because yes it is not a healthy coping mechanism at all but... it still is a coping mechanism, if that makes sense?

the way you’re able to constantly rub it in his face feels awful. peter is fully aware that it isn’t good for him and shows a desire to quit. even if he didn’t it would still be awful to say because. it’s just insensitive. like you don’t just go up to someone and keep being like HEY YOU DRINK A LOT YOU SHOULD STOP DOING THAT DO YOU KNOW WHAT WATER IS? feels really bad to keep harping on something that causes him pain and that he struggles with every single day.

however peter does have moments where he tells you Not to say that, or if you pry into why he drinks he’ll outright say he doesn’t remember you being his friend, which is better than nothing.

in p1 moreso than p2 i hate how you can be like oh he’s craaaazy he’s off his rocker he’s delusional!!!! that “why, i never... an architect of schizophrenia!” comment sticks in my mind because it’s just... so genuinely mean. especially because if i remember correctly that line is from when he’s planning on LITERALLY FUCKING BURNING HIMSELF ALIVE

i think if they were going to have all of this they should have gone more in depth on how it’s really. not good that he’s treated so poorly. and i do believe that’s what they were going for, a la the art book w/ the whole “not to be made into a drunken clown, this is a tragic character”, etc. but it just doesn’t land. i’m holding out for the bachelor and changeling routes in p2 to see if they expand upon any of it but i highly doubt i’ll be satisfied in this regard.

i stand by the One time it was really fucking funny to clown on peter being the time you can tell him little girls eat raspberries and earthworms and he just believes you

[missnight0wl]

Isolation

Summary: Have you wondered what Rowan is up to after their “death”?

I recommend reading “Six minutes” first.

Words: 3215

Winter, 1990

Rowan didn’t remember much about what happened right after she was revived. She wasn’t sure how they got to Rakepick’s house – or what she assumed was Rakepick’s house. She passed out shortly after arrival, and according to Jacob, she was asleep for the whole day.

“It’s good, you need to rest,” he told her. “The thing is that Rakepick and I have to leave now, only for a while. Can you manage on your own?”

Rowan knew that he’s asking rather for formality sake, so she simply nodded. After that, she was instructed where she can find necessary supplies like food and medicine.

“You can use the study if you want,” Madam Rakepick added when they both were ready to go. “Just keep your wand by your side, Miss Khanna”.

Rowan stiffened a bit hearing that remark. “I thought it’s safe here.”

“It is.”

“But it’s always better to be cautious,” Jacob hurried to explain. “You’ll be fine as long as you’re inside. And you won’t be alone for long, hm?”

The empty house appeared overwhelming at first, but Rowan quickly got distracted by pain. It could’ve been from the curse, from the physical impact she experienced in the Forest, or maybe from the times they had practised her timing with the Banishing Charm. Most likely, it was due to all of that combined. Potions and ointment were helpful just enough to let her focus on anything else. She wouldn’t dare to snoop around, she wasn’t even tempted to. But since there were plenty of books available and she had permission to use them, time was passing pretty fast.

It had been three days when she finally heard the front door opening. Madam Rakepick appeared at the doorstep of the living room where Rowan was spending most of her days so far.

“How you’re doing, Miss Khanna?”

“I’m fine,” Rowan replied quickly.

The Curse-Breaker glanced at a small pile of tomes next to the girl, yet she didn’t comment. She got to her business in other parts of the house, leaving Rowan to herself. Then she left for a night. The similar situation repeated a couple of times in the next week. Sometimes, Madam Rakepick would ask her more questions or suggest her reading particular titles out of nowhere. Other times, she said nothing at all and just watched her carefully. No matter what, it always made Rowan a bit uneasy. Until one day, the front door opened once more, yet it was someone else who came in.

“Hi,” said Jacob blithely, popping into the room with Sickleworth on his shoulder. “How you’re feeling?”

Rowan got surprisingly happy to see him again. She could definitely use some change in the company. Besides, she actually grew to like him during that short period they knew each other, even though they had a quite hard start. A lot of things had rocked the girl’s world at that time. For one, she had to process the fact that Madam Rakepick is not evil - or at least that there’s the bigger plan behind her actions – and that she’s not going to actually kill her. Rowan was often worried about that even before the events of the Buried Vault, so overcoming it after everything was a huge deal. And then, she met Jacob – her best friend’s infamous brother, whose second disappearance was maybe as devastating as the first one. Should Rowan be angry with him because of her loyalty to Helena? But then, all of that was supposed to protect her, and not only her… There was also the fact that Jacob was older, more powerful, and appeared to be able to easily kill her as well if he wanted to. It required some kind of respect. Rowan had been conflicted. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she already had a difficult time around new people, even without those additional factors! Now, it seemed rather silly, and she still felt awkward about the moment when she called him “Mr Ellis”.

“Just call me Jacob, please,” he said then, partially amused and embarrassed. The young witch could swear that Rakepick smirked at that too.

Unlike his associate, Jacob didn’t leave shortly after his arrival, and he hung about for the next day. In fact, it turned out that he’s staying for longer. Rowan thought at first that it could be strange to have him around all the time. However, he was doing fine at being busy with his things, and usually, he wasn’t paying much attention to her. Not that she felt ignored. It was simply… natural. Sometimes, she was peeking at him curiously when she entered the study for new books, trying to figure out what he’s working on, but it was hard to tell if he’s noticing her at all. Unless he was smoking at the moment, that is. Then he would stand up almost immediately to open the window.

“Don’t tell Rakepick I smoke in here, okay?” he tended to say with a coy smile.

One day, he came downstairs and sat in the armchair, putting his legs over an arm rail – almost like his sister used to do in the Ravenclaw Common Room.

“What is it?” he asked suddenly, making Rowan realise that she’s staring at him. She shook her head, startled. “You look like you want to ask me about something, so…?”

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just… I’m sometimes noticing how you and Helena are similar.”

“Is that so? O.W.L.s were so hard on her, huh?”

Rowan didn’t understand right away, but then it occurred to her that when he smiled, you could see small wrinkles on his face. That he had bags under his eyes and single grey streaks among his dark hair. He looked tired and ill, even if he was making up for it with his attitude. It must’ve been caused by the Vault. Come to think about it, it was odd that Helena had never really mentioned his physical state. On the other hand, perhaps it’s understandable for a sister to focus more on his behaviour. Everything was always happening so fast, after all.

“Oh no, not like that! That’s not what I--”

“I know, that’s all right.” He smirked and spaced out for a moment. “I’ve got something for you. Wait here.”

He jumped out of his spot and ran back upstairs. When he returned, he was holding a purple notebook, marking some pages with his finger.

“When Helena was ten, I bought her a diary for Christmas,” he started explaining.

“I know, she was writing in it quite a lot.” Rowan recognised it as soon as she saw it. It wasn’t the exact same diary – the one Helena owned was more worn-out, and it had stickers and drawings on the cover, but they could’ve been indistinguishable when they were new.

“Yeah…” Jacob seemed to be pleased to hear that. “Though she probably didn’t know that it’s a two-way notebook. I never had a chance to explain it to her because, y’know…” He paused and cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s the second notebook from the pair. I left it here long ago and nearly forgot about it. I normally wouldn’t read it, but… It turned out she was writing letters to me, so I guess it’s not that bad. Right?” Rowan got the impression that it was an excuse more for himself than her. He sighed. “She stopped writing months ago, but I’ve noticed recently that new entries are appearing.”

He passed to her the open notebook, and she took it uncertainly. On its pages, she saw familiar handwriting, the same she knew so well from the notes exchanged during classes.

My dearest Rowan…

She glanced over the first sentences and put her hand over her mouth to stop a sob. She closed her eyes to calm down. When she looked again, Jacob was watching her with sympathy.

“It’s your choice if you read it,” he said gently. “I didn’t look at your parts, but I imagine it’ll be a rather bittersweet experience, so consider yourself warned.”

“You said it’s a two-way notebook,” she tried to control shaking of her voice. “Does it mean I could use it to contact Helena?”

“Probably. But you know you can’t. I’m sorry, Rowan.”

She shook her head and smiled weakly. “No, don’t be. Thank you for showing me that.”

It seemed like Jacob wasn’t sure if he made the right decision. “Hey, would you help me with something, too?” he asked more cheerfully. “You know Ancient Runes, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You think you could translate something for me?”

“I can try,” Rowan replied, pressing the notebook to her chest.

“Brilliant. I’ll bring you the texts then. Take your time with them.”

She wanted to get to work right away once she got materials, but the purple notebook was still in the corner of her eye. Eventually, she gave in and started reading about what was happening at Hogwarts. She laughed and cried, learning about how her friends were dealing with everything. She was proud of them for being strong, and she wanted more than anything to hug them in the weaker moments. She felt as if Helena was sitting next to her, telling her all of that in-person – except she was so far…

Rowan couldn’t bring herself back to translating that day. Though after the sleepless night, she was glad to have something to focus on. She wondered if Jacob gave her that task right now purposefully.

“How it’s going?” he asked when he came to check her progress.

“Pretty well, actually. I had some difficulties at one point, but it went easier when I overcame it. I think I’m about half-way through.”

“Already?” Jacob flipped through some pages of her work. “I’m impressed. Good job, Rowan.” He smiled at her, but then he frowned unexpectedly. “Can I see your glasses?”

She blinked, surprised. “Um, sure.”

He carefully took them from her and examined them against the light. “They’re not mended properly. That’s why you squint,” he declared. “Did you do it yourself?”

Rowan felt that she’s blushing. “Yeah, I did…”

“It’s not your fault, glasses are tricky. They’re not as complex as tissue, but still,” he reassured her. He took his wand out to cast the spell. “Here, it should be better now.”

Rowan put her glasses back, indeed noticing a difference in her vision. “Thanks.”

“Why you didn’t say anything earlier?”

She shrugged, ignoring the warmth of her cheeks. Truth be told, she didn’t know why. She didn’t want to bother anyone, and she assumed any discomfort she’s experiencing might be related to her other injuries.

“I think I’m gonna cook something,” stated Jacob casually, changing the subject. “Are you hungry?”

He left the room and apparently encountered Madam Rakepick, who happened to be at the house.

“You could’ve at least checked her glasses,” Rowan heard him saying. He didn’t talk loudly, and the girl didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help it.

“What’s wrong with her glasses?” Rakepick replied with a question.

“They had a flaw from mending. You should take care of things like that.”

“How was I supposed to know? She didn’t complain to me.”

“Maybe because she’s afraid of you.”

“Why would she be afraid of me?”

Jacob made a weird sound which could’ve been a cough or an attempt at hiding a snigger. Rowan didn’t catch the Curse-Breaker’s response, but she made a note to herself to never reveal how sensitive her hearing is. Still, that short exchange made her think again. Because a lot of things in her life recently were confusing, yet the relationship between those two had to be at the top of the list.

Madam Rakepick continued to come back every now and then for short periods. She was spending her time mostly with Jacob alone, but sporadically, Rowan had an opportunity to be around them, too. To her surprise, they usually were getting along really well. Whether it was the case of them used to working together or just knowing more than they were telling, they quickly understood each other, and it seemed they’re making a good team. Rowan even caught them joking around a couple of times. Everything was fine - until they started fighting. Even though they never did it in front of her, she always knew about it because of yelling, which was the most unsettling part, although she rarely could distinguish the exact words.

As far as Rowan remembered, she had never heard Madam Rakepick shouting. Even when she raised her voice occasionally, she was still steady and cold. It definitely fitted her ominous aura. Supposedly, her behaviour was different in the Buried Vault, but Rowan didn’t witness that, and she never wanted to even imagine the whole situation. As for Jacob, though… Well, if Rowan didn’t know that he’s the only other person inside, she’d doubt he could yell at all. His appearance could intimidate at first, sure, but the longer she knew him, the more certain she was that he’s one of the gentlest people she had met. She kept in mind that his approach towards her might be related to Helena. However, she could also easily see him using that natural appeal to endear both teachers and classmates during his school period. Ironically, that’s probably the most effective type of troublemaker. Overall, getting into such heated quarrels seemed unusual for both of them, so the girl never knew if their subjects were this serious or it’s the matter of two characters clashing.

After one of those argues, Jacob stormed into the kitchen where Rowan was sitting at the table. He lent over the counter, hanging his head down in frustration until the door slam.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. Rowan looked at him questioningly. “Me and Rakepick, that is,” he clarified, straightening up. “I imagine it’s not very comforting when the only two people you’re supposed to depend on are at each other’s throats.”

She didn’t know what to answer, so she kept quiet. Jacob in the meantime took out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. He took a puff and chuckled softly.

“Patricia can be difficult to work with,” he continued talking. “She’d probably say the same about me. But it’s nothing that should concern you. In fact, things go pretty well.” He seemed genuine, as always.

They sat in silence for a while before Rowan tried to take up the conversation. “It had to be hard for you to trust her…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after she left you in the Vault and all.” She felt nervous talking about it, but it was bothering her for so long. “Or did you know that she had no choice or something?”

He didn’t reply right away and bit his lips. “Yeah, something like that…”

He suddenly appeared more absent but not upset with her, so she decided to push further. “Jacob? Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Last year, when there was the Portrait Curse at Hogwarts, our friend’s sister got trapped. She was getting weaker with each day, losing the sense of reality. How it’s possible…” She forced herself to raise her head and look at him, hoping to see his reaction. “How did you even survive for so long?”

There was no reaction, he only stared at the floor. That’s what Rowan was afraid of. She kept noticing little things that weren’t adding up. Like from time to time, Jacob would mention not seeing his sister in years. She also couldn’t believe that Jacob would reproach anyone for anything, even if it was about hesitating before setting him free – and that’s what he was doing according to Helena’s stories.

“You weren’t trapped at all, were you?” she asked quietly.

Their eyes finally met. “No, I wasn’t.”

Rowan instinctively reached to her wand, which she always carried with her, just like Madam Rakepick told her to. Yet Jacob remained calm, resting against the counter and smoking casually.

“But you are Helena’s brother? And she has only one brother?”

“Yeah.”

Her heart started beating faster. “Then who did she save from the portrait?”

“Let’s not talk about it.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Rowan, I’m sorry, I really am. I just can’t tell you everything, at least not now. Helena is safe, and I’ll do anything to keep it that way as long as I’m alive.” He put out the cigarette and sat in front of her. “I want to protect you, too, but it means keeping information from you. I know it’s hard, and frustrating, and scary. But it has to be that way. Do you understand?”

Rowan truly wanted to believe him. But at the same time, it hit her how little she knew about what she had gotten into. What if she was on the wrong side? What if she got manipulated? But it couldn’t be… She spent the whole night thinking about different possibilities. She ended up browsing the purple notebook once again. Could it be fake, forged to influence her emotionally? No… The new entries were still appearing and some of them were too detailed to not be written by Helena. No, neither Jacob nor Madam Rakepick was lying to her. But even when holding to that faith, it was terrifying to realise that there is a lot of unknown danger out there. Rowan believed that her decision would keep her friends safe. However, how much truth was in that? And if she somehow could warn them to be careful, how would she warn about something she didn’t understand? She closed the notebook, resisting the urge to write something in it.

The next morning when she went down to the kitchen, she found there both Jacob and Madam Rakepick drinking coffee. It actually was the first time she saw them in a situation like that, and it was almost bizarre. If she had any company in the morning, it was Jacob alone. For a moment, she was taken aback, not sure if she can interrupt them. Nevertheless, she wanted to talk to them anyway, so she got the courage up to speak up.

“I want to help,” she announced. “I don’t have to know everything, but I can still do something. I did translations for Jacob, I can do more. I can do analysis, I can organise things--”

“I hope you paid attention to the books I recommended you, Miss Khanna,” Rakepick cut in.

Rowan hesitated, confused by the sudden remark. “Yes, of course.”

“Good. It’ll be helpful in your research.”

“I’ll be doing research?”

“Yes, you just said that you want to help.”

The girl immediately got excited and lightened up. “On the Cursed Vaults? Or on R? Or–”

“How about you start with breakfast?” the redhead interrupted her again, raising her eyebrow. She took a sip of her beverage, temporarily closing the case. Jacob only grinned at them while placing an additional plate.

Rowan took her seat at the table, even though she wasn’t hungry at all. If everyone fights, she’s going to fight, too, in the best way she can. And should the worst happen – whatever it would be – she’s going to be prepared.

[daylight-imagines]

Miss Me? Part 2

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader Warnings: Description of vampires hunting/feeding. A very small amount of violence. Nothing that isn’t in the show.  Word Count: 3090

Part 1     Part 3

“Miss me, darling?” Kol asked. 

You stared at him for a moment, your mouth hanging open.

“How are you standing in front of me?” 

“Magic is a wonderful thing,” he said. 

“I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Really? I assumed you’d be worried about your friends.”

You paused. “You’ve missed a lot.” 

You couldn’t believe he was really there. In the end, you had actually been friends. You could have been more. Three years had gone by, but the sight of him still made your heart race. 

“Let’s have a drink. You can tell me all about it.

“Alright,” you said. “I hope you know somewhere good because I have no clue.”

“Trust me, I know New Orleans very well.”

__

The night after the ball you went into the grill and found Kol sitting at the bar. You walked over and sat next to him.

“You look as miserable as me.” He turned to look at you. “Maybe a bit angrier.”

“Well, if it isn’t the beautiful Y/n.”

“Are you alright, Kol?”

“Why would you care?

“I care about my friends.”

“Is that what we are?” He asked. “Friends?”

You shrugged. “We’re getting there.”

“Alright darling, tell me, has anything interesting happened to you today because you seem rather boring?”

You hadn’t known him long enough to know his moods, but you did know your own. This was one of your common ones: acting like an ass to cover up the hurt.

“What happened?”

“I’m sure your friends have told you by know. Maybe you were in on their plan. Is there someone waiting to put a dagger in my back while I’m distracted?”

“Kol, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You hesitated a moment before placing your hand over his that was resting on the counter. He glanced at your hands before turning back to you with a strange look on his face.

“My mother tried to kill me today.”

You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. That had not been what you were expecting.

“She said we’re monsters and she regrets turning us into vampires. So she tried to kill us all.”

“I’m sorry, Kol.”

“It happens,” he said. “Your friends helped by the way.”

You sighed. “I’m getting less comfortable calling them my friends as time goes by.”

Silence fell over you. You thought about what happened with Ester and realized the same thing could have happened to you.

“You know my mom is on the town council, and from one of the founding families. Every generation has been taught to hate the supernatural. When they become aware of a vampire or werewolf in town, they get rid of them. How do you think she handled the news about me and Caroline?”

“I imagine she took it poorly.” 

“Yeah, but eventually she accepted it. I know your mom probably won’t change, but I do get it.” 

He raised his glass. “Cheers to becoming our mothers’ biggest fears.”

What you said didn’t fix anything, but you did notice the small smile on his face. It was only there for a second before it was replaced with a smirk.

__

“So how long have you been back in the land of the living?” You asked as Kol led you into a small bar. 

“That answer is more complicated than you may think.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night. How about you?”

“I do now.”

He told you about his mother resurrecting him to help with her plans. Then Finn’s hex killed him.

 “Wait, Finn is alive too?” 

“Unfortunately.”

“Kol, He’s your brother.”

He scoffed. “My brother who killed me.”

You nodded and looked down at your glass. Once again, the relationship between the Mikaelson siblings amazed you. 

“I heard about your mother,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

”You know, with my dad it so sudden and unexpected I didn’t have time to process it. Not to mention the heightened emotions on top of it.” You sighed and finished your drink. “With mom, we knew it was coming. It didn’t hurt any less, but I had time to prepare. And I knew I had to be there for Caroline. Of course, I even messed that up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“She turned off her humanity. How much worse could I have done?”

“Is she back to normal now?”

You laughed. “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

“Caroline’s humanity is on, and you’re both alive.”

“Technically-” You laughed at the look he gave you.

“My point is you’re going to be alright.”

“You’re right, I guess.”

You smiled, looking around the bar. You were so focused on observing the room that you didn’t notice when Kol leaned forward. When you turned around, you let out a gasp, realizing how close you were. The look on his face never failed to put you on edge.

“How are those craving you were dealing with?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. You knew exactly what he was talking about. He brought it up to see you squirm.

__

It’d been a few days since you saw Kol in the bar. Christmas past and you’d been so busy you’d been able to avoid the feeling that had been nagging at you. Now you were laying in bed with nothing to distract you. 

All you could hear were the heartbeats throughout the apartment building. The sounds and smells were driving you insane. It took every ounce of strength to keep yourself in control. But after almost a week, you were about to break. You took a deep breath and picked up your phone. You needed help, and you knew it. There was only one person you wanted to help you. You stared at your phone, trying to work up the courage to make the phone call. Every minute that passed, the worse the burning in your throat got and the louder the sounds got. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d last. You dialed the number and waited for an answer.

“Hello?”

“Kol.” You hated the way your voice shook.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” 

“I need your help.”

You could hear him moving around.

“Where am I going?”

You paced as you told him your address. 

“I’m on my way.”

You were curled into the corner of your apartment, farthest from the door when Kol got there. He knocked on the door. 

“It’s open.”

When he saw you, he was by your side in an instant. You couldn’t help jumping. Vampire speed still shocked you. He kneeled next to you.

“What’s going on, darling?” He brushed the hair out of your face.

“I…I’m.” You didn’t even know how to explain it. “I’m going to hurt someone.”

“The cravings are getting a bit out of hand?”

You nodded. He started rolling up his sleeve.

“What are you doing?” 

“Feeding on me will take the edge off. I can’t take you out of here with you this high strung. It won’t end well.” 

“I’m not a normal vampire Kol. My bite is poison to you.” 

He pulled a vial from his pocket. “It wouldn’t kill me anyway, but this will fix it.”

He sat next to you and held out his arm.

“I-“

“It’s alright.”

You watched his face making sure it was ok as you bit into his wrist. You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips as the blood ran down your throat. The feeling that fell over you was something you’d never felt before. A warmth spread through your entire body; it felt like you were floating. You laid your head against Kol’s chest as you drank. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you could feel his eyes on you.

You drank until you stopped shaking, even then you had to force yourself to pull away. You didn’t move from Kol’s arms- taking deeps breaths trying to regain your composure.

“Feel better?” 

You nodded, sitting up. He stood, pulling you up with him. 

“Does it always feel like that?”

“Feeding on other vampires is different from feeding on humans.” He moved the hair away from your face. 

You couldn’t help but notice how close you were, and how his eyes glanced at your lips before moving back to your eyes. You thought he was going to kiss you...and realized you wouldn’t mind if he did. That wasn’t good.

You stepped back looking down. You grabbed his wrist, seeing the effect your venom was already having. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Don’t worry.” He pulled the vial of Klaus’s blood out and drank it. The wound healed instantly. “See? It’s fine.”

You looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now come on it’s time for you to learn how to hunt.”

__

“I’m fine now. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped me.”

“Why did you call me and not one of your friends?” 

“You are my friend.”

“But it’s different.”

You paused before answering. “They live one way, so they expected me to live that way. Caroline drinks blood bags, and that works for her. It wasn’t for me, as you know. None of them would have understood that.”

“So, you called me.”

“I didn’t need them. I had you.”

“Not for long.”

You looked away. Caroline had been the one to tell you about Kol’s death. It hurt a lot. You hadn’t realized how attached you were- how much you cared.

“I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

If you had known, you would have told him. He protected you, but you hadn’t been able to do the same.

__

After leaving your apartment, Kol took you into town. You were standing across from the grill. There weren’t any lights nearby, you couldn’t be seen from the other side of the street. 

“What are we doing?”

“You’re learning to feed,” Kol said. 

“On people trying to go about their day.”

“Think of it as a necessary part of life. Humans have to eat, so do vampires.”

You looked up at him and smiled. That wasn’t how he looked at it, and you knew it. But he was trying to make you feel better.

“You find someone, isolate them, compel them to be quiet, heal them, compel them to forgot and be on their way. No harm done.”

You sighed as people came out of the doors. “Ok. Who?”

“Someone alone that won’t be noticed disappearing.” He motioned towards the building. 

Behind the group that just left came a girl around your age. She went the opposite way as the rest of them.

“You’re up, darling.”

You turned to him before moving. “Promise me, you’ll stop me if I-”

“If you lose control, I’ll stop you, but I don’t think you’ll have that problem.”

You nodded, and then you were gone.

In the alleyway, you compelled the girl to be quiet. You fed quickly, not losing your senses the way you did when you fed on Kol. Once your hunger was gone, you pulled away. You fed her your blood and compelled her to forget. After she left, you turned to Kol. He was already watching you with a smirk on his face. 

“I told you you wouldn’t lose control.”

You walked closer. “Thank you. For helping me.”

“Well, I couldn’t have you killing your entire apartment building.”

You scoffed. “You can admit you like me Kol.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“So you do?”

“There are very few people in this town I care about Y/n,” he said. “And you’re one of them.”

His hand moved up to cup your cheek. He was looking at you the same way he had in the grill. With a glint in his eye that made you feel like the breath had left your lungs. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine when you realized how close you were. You both moved forward, eager to close the last bit of distance. But you jumped away from him when you heard the voice behind you. 

“Don’t move. Put your hands up.”

It was impossible to describe the horror you felt hearing your mom’s voice. You were relieved it was so dark. It’d be impossible to see your face from the entrance of the alley. 

 You couldn’t move even when you heard the sound of a gun firing. Kol was quick to react. He wrapped his arms around you, putting himself between you and your mom. You heard him groan as the bullets hit him then he sped you both out of the alley. Before you knew it, you were back at your apartment. 

You broke out of your trance when Kol let out a curse. “Are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine. Indestructible, remember? Just help me get this off.”

You helped his get his jacket off and then moved behind him. There were six bullet holes in his back that weren’t healing because the bullets were still inside. 

“I’m going to have to get them out,” you said. “Take off your shirt.”

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off, all you had to do was ask. I didn’t need to get shot.”

You rolled your eyes and helped him pull it off. It definitely wasn’t disappointment you felt once the shirt was off; your gaze lingered a moment too long before you went to grab one of your kitchen chairs. As you walked away, you saw Kol’s smirk widen.

“Like what you see?” He asked as you pulled the chair into the room. He sat down, and you moved behind him.

“What if I do?” 

You started digging out the bullets and any pieces of wood that broke off into the wound. 

“I’d offer to show you more.”

You couldn’t help laughing and finished the rest of the wounds in silence. Once you were done, you wiped away the dried blood and washed your hands. Turning back around, you let out a gasp seeing Kol right behind you. You looked away from him and took a breath.  

“I guess we should have thought about the town council’s mission to kill vampires.”

“It just means next time we go to the next town over.”

“Next time?”

“I can’t teach you everything in one trip. Especially when it ended with us getting shot at.”

You laughed.

“We’ll skip that part from now on.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, darling. Now I need to leave.” He smirked. “Unless you want me to stay.”

“Goodnight Kol,” you said, rolling your eyes.

After he was gone, you let out a sigh and cleaned up. It wasn’t until you were laying in bed to sleep you realized you had wanted him to stay.

__

“You haven’t told me why you’re in New Orleans,” Kol said. “I’m surprised you left your sister in Mystic Falls.”

“Caroline is actually in Texas of all places.”

“Mystic Falls was too tiring?”

“Too dangerous. My nieces weren’t safe there.”

“Nieces? How did that happen?”

“It’s a very long and complicated story.”

“We have time.”

You told him about the Gemini coven and then about Jo’s family, Ric and Jo’s relationship, and the tragic wedding came next. Kai wasn’t a subject you liked discussing, but you didn’t have a choice. You explained the spell the coven cast, saving the twins and making Caroline their surrogate mother. 

“There isn’t a lot of information on siphoners, and the twins’ powers are growing. I’ve been going around to any witch that would talk to me trying to learn more.”

“I can help,” he said. “There are hundreds of witches who owe me favors.”

“That would be amazing.” You smiled. Then you realized what you’d left out and looked down.

“There’s something else, isn't there?”

“In the Gemini coven, twins are in line to be leaders. It’s determined by a ritual called the Merge. Their magic is merged together and absorbed by the stronger twin. The other dies,” you said. “It’s another thing I’ve been trying to figure out.”

“You’re looking for a loophole.”

You nodded and laid your head on the bar. “It doesn't happen until they’re twenty-two, but time goes by fast. We need a solution sooner rather than later."

“Take a breath, darling,” Kol said a hand running up and down your back. “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll help you.”

You sat up and looked at him. It amazed you that even though three years had passed your feelings were still just as strong. You told yourself if you had more time you could have fallen in love with him. Now you knew you would have. 

“I missed you.” You didn’t know why you said it. It was true. Over the years you’d thought about him many times.

“You have no idea, Y/n."

His hand cupped the side of your face, and he moved closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your lips were about to touch when there was yelling behind you.

“Kol Mikaelson where the hell have you been?”

You laughed at the look on his face. He was ready to kill whoever interrupted you. The number of times this had happened to the two of you was frustrating. 

“What Rebekah?”

“I’ve been calling you all day.”

He stepped away from you with a sigh. “You’re not my mother. What do you want?”

“Is it so bad that I want to see my newly resurrected brother,” she said. “You weren’t answering calls. For all I knew, you could have died again.”

“Rebekah, I’m grateful you had me brought back to life, but you can’t be afraid I’m going to die anytime I’m away from you.”

“Who’s this?” She asked, looking at you.

You waved. “Y/N.”

“From Mystic Falls.” Her gaze darkened, and she moved towards you. “Here to kill my brother all over again?”

Kol stepped in front of you. “Don’t touch her Rebekah.”

“FIne. I’ll wait outside, but we need you at home.”

After she left, he turned around. “Apparently I have to leave.”

“I got that.”

“Where are you staying?”

You told him and he nodded, walking away. A thought crossed your mind, and you grabbed his arm. 

“Kol, don’t...don’t tell Klaus I’m here. Please.”

He cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I won’t tell him. Even if I did, he wouldn’t touch you.”

You nodded, and he walked away. You watched with a smile on your face. Yes, you were definitely falling for him.

Part 3

__

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Tags: @del-rcys

[loridrabbles]

Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (Part 8)

(Y/n) finishes up her trial. Dogma'a mental state declines due to isolation.

     Dogma lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of the cell. It was empty, except for him, though he swore he heard people calling his name. In reality, the only things he could hear were the whir of the fan behind the bars in the ceiling, the drip from the leaky faucet in the refresher, and his own breathing. 

     (Y/n) was gone and he missed her. He missed her dearly. The time he spent alone was pure agony. He played checkers against himself, flipping the board each turn, thumbed through a couple books. He paced the room, fiddled with his fingers, and did nothing but wait. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Mostly just for the day to pass. 24 hours felt like days. 

     Time was taking a toll on his mind. When he'd close his eyes, he'd see things. He'd be in the barracks, trying to join a conversation, but he couldn't open his mouth. They'd wave their hands in his face, trying to wake him, but he couldn't. He'd be on the battlefield, standing, motionless, unable to breath as his brothers ran past him, screaming for him to move. He couldn't. He missed them. They never treated him well, but he'd take being the picked on out cast any day over complete solitude.

     Sometimes he'd be sitting on the cell bench, with (y/n) by his side, the both of them rambling on in a long, pointless conversation. He'd run his hand through her hair, but he could feel nothing at his fingertips. He missed her. The softness or her skin, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her body against his.

     He was going mad. The room spun and his heart palpitated in his chest. He wanted to scream. He fought it for so long. He fought it for weeks. Finally he gave up. A tear slipped from his eye as he sat on the edge of the bed. They began to pour down his face as he buried his head in his hands, sobbing to himself. He didn't want to be there anymore. He'd never follow through, he wouldn't be able too, but he knew he'd be better off dead. 

     Through his blurry vision, he saw a guard slide new towels and sheets under the door along with his dinner tray. He didn't want it. He trudged to the door, and grabbed the towels and sheets. He pulled the old ones off the bed and threw them by the door to he taken away. Once the bed was made, he grabbed the towels and climbed in the shower, hoping it would help him think more clearly.

     (Y/n)'s trial was up. 3 years and 5 years probation. She was happy to have received a sentence that was so short, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't hoping to hear life. She couldn't imagine leaving Dogma in that horrible place all by himself. She couldn't imagine how terrible the last few weeks had been. It was bad enough with just the two of them.

     As she left the court and entered the jail, the muzzle was places back on her head. As the was lead in chains through the prison, her heart jumped to her throat when the guards took her to the elevator that led to solitary. They would see eachother again.

     Dogma stepped out of the shower. He was mentally exhausted. His movements were slow and by the time he was dressed for bed in a tshirt and loose cotton shorts, the mirror had unfogged from the shower. He heard something. A door slam and some voices. He was hallucinating again. He picked up a little packet that held a razor and shaving cream. Making the shaving cream was hard. It was cheap, but he managed. He had to be extremely careful with the razor. It was made to prevent someone from hurting themselves or someone else. One wrong move and it would snap. It also dulled quickly, but luckily there were 3 in a package. It took him about a half hour, but he finally removed any stubble that had grown in, and shaped his hair how he liked. 

     (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. She stared blankly at the floor, thinking about everything that had happened the last few weeks. Kix, the trial, what Dogma might have gone through. She wanted to cry. The door to the refresher swung open. Dogma stepped out, staring at her, blinking a few times as if to make sure he wasn't seeing things again. 

     "(Y/n)." He said, his voice almost a whisper. He couldn't believe his eyes. Slowly, he walked to her as she stood. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes and she stood and rushed to collide with his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face into her hair, stroking it gently. Minutes passed before either of them spoke.

     "You're back." He whispered. "I was so worried. What happened?"

     "My trial. I got 3 years and 5 years probation."

     "Oh..." He sighed. "Well, I'm happy for you." He looked down at her and noticed she was still crying. He put his hands on her cheek. "What's the matter? Aren't you glad you'll be out of here soon?"

     "I saw Kix." She said. She took a seat on the bed, Dogma next to her. "He treated my wounds. He took the muzzle off to talk to me for a moment even though he wasn't supposed to. I told him what was going on. When he left the room, the guards beat him. I screamed for them to stop, but I-I think they k-killed him." She cried, burying her face in his chest as he tried to think of what to say. "I shouldn't have asked him. I didn't have to tell him."

     "Shhh. It's not your fault." He stroked her hair and squeezed her close to him. "He knew the consequences. Don't think about it. It's over with. There's nothing you can do. Besides, the 501st is going to wonder what happened to him right? They're going to find out."

     "You're right. There's no sense in making myself sick over it." She said, wiping her tears. Dogma used the sleeve of his shirt to help dry them away. "We're stuck here anyway."

     "Did you eat?" He asked.

     "Kinda. I haven't had much of an appetite."

     "Neither have I, since you left. I was starting to go mad from being alone for so long."

     "I can imagine. I was in our old cell so I was able to interact with others, but I dared not speak to anyone. The guards threatened to kill me if I talked to anyone about the trial."

     "Kriff. Well, if your hungry, they dropped off dinner an hour or so ago." He pointed to the tray that was set on the table. She walked to the bench and slouched on it, kicking off the loafers she had on. 

     "What did you do while I was gone?"

     "Paced. Read. Waited." He answered. 

     "Sounds fun." She answered sarcastically. "Up for a game of checkers?" She asked.

     "Yeah. What are the rules this time?" He joked.

     "Nothing. I just missed playing together." She smiled. They played a few rounds rather silently, just enjoying eachother's company. (Y/n) broke the silence with a question.

     "Ok. If you were trapped on a planet with only one person from the 501st, who would it be?"

     "Hmm. Probably Rex." He answered, moving his piece to be kinged. "He was always very kind to me. What about you."

     "Probably the same." She paused. "Wait a minute. You!" She laughed.

     "Well you're pretty much already doing that. If you were going to be trapped on a barren planet for a year, what 3 things would you bring with you?"

     "Hmmm. A copper pot. It can kill the bacteria in water and I can use it to cook. An axe or machete and a tarp. You?"

     "My blaster, a canteen to collect water, and a firestarter."

     "Oh I'd probably have to trade my tarp for a fire starter. I couldn't make a fire by hand for the life of me."

     "That's true. Of course I could probably use my blaster to start a fire. Then I could trade my firestarter for a tarp or bug net."

     "Ooh a bug net is a good idea. Hey if we ever get out of here, let's try to survive in the wilderness together with only 6 items."

     "Sounds like a plan. I think we could do it."

     "If you could only be on one planet for the rest of your life, which would it be?"

     "Hmm. Probably Coruscant. Surprisingly I'm not sick of it. There's so much of it I haven't explored yet. You?"

     "Naboo. There are cities but but there's forests and plains too. I couldn't live in a city forever."

     They talked and talked, catching up on the time together they had lost. They talked until their mouths went dry and stayed up so late their eyes stung with exhaustion. Finally, they caved in and went to bed.

     (Y/n) and Dogma were getting ready for the night when (y/n) felt a heavy trickling down her leg. She looked down to see a small puddle of blood at her feet.

     "No no no no." She gasped.

     "What?" He asked, fluffing his sheets.

     "I got my period." She said, tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill.

     "Oh dear."

     "Uhg this is so embarrassing." She said, hiding her face in her hands.

     "No it's not. Don't worry about it. Go clean yourself up. I'll take care of the floor. It's alright."

     The next 4 days were going to be difficult, but with a copious amount of cloths in her underwear and Dogma insisting she didn't have to be embarrassed, she'd make it. The clothes she'd use as pads, she kept and would rinse them out every night and swish them in the sink with soap.

     She had gotten used to an empty, cold room during her time away for thr trial. She hated it. She had been away from Dogma long enough and he was so close. Deciding she was done with being alone, she got out of her bed and walked to his. He was already asleep, facing the wall away from her. He had rolled over that way from his back, leaving enough room for her to squeeze in. She climbed under the covers, and wrapped her arm around him. He awoke slightly, finding her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She buried her face in his back and took a deep sigh. She could still smell the shaving cream.

[fiery-assassin-arc]

Somewhere New. - Frost's POV

The young girl is shivering, even with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is made into a quick plait, and she looks up at Frost. Eyes bright as a flame. Hair is red as a rose.

Iris was her name.

“So, Iris.” Frost starts. Her arms crossed themselves against her chest, blue eyes studying the redheaded girl from afar. She's warm. Not suited for a place full of winter and ice. “How did you get here?”

It had been 72 hours since the girl made herself a place in the temple. Using a spare room (they seem to have plenty of those) for her boarding, and she hasn't spoken a lot. Simply little yes or nos or greetings. Nothing long or short. And her tone, sounded like she had given up on everything.

“Don't know,” came her response. Soft.  

“What do you mean you don't know? People don't just randomly end up here in Articka.” Not like she didn't do the same thing, lied to by the thunder god. As she observes Iris hiding further into her blanket, Frost let out a sigh. Perhaps coming on too strong wasn't best. How to approach this delicately...

“You're . . .” Inhale. Exhale. “You're going to be okay here. All right?”

“Okay.” Short and simple. Frost wasn't used to the warmth radiating off of someone like her. She felt like a fire, crackling warm. It proved this wasn't just some human. Hence why the cyromancer kept her distance from her in the infirmary.

“Are you hungry?”

While the girl shakes her head no, her stomach betrays her with growling. “I don't want to eat.”

This girl. She tsks, looking over at the bowl of something steaming on the other side of the room. Iris liked isolation, or something relating to it. “Come on, you have to eat something.”

“Why did you save me?” she spits the words out. “You don't even know me, and you saved me. Why?”

That was a question she wanted to find an answer for herself, but she won't admit it to her. She's seen this look in her own eyes. The look of someone wanting to be left for dead, to be alone. “You were dying out there, Iris. And you should be lucky—”

At that, Iris laughs. It sounded so empty, half-assed.  “I am not lucky.”

“You are if you made it here.” Frost waves an absent hand in the air. “As I saying, you should be—” She stops when Iris gives her a look. “Glad, you should be glad you're here and not in the belly of a wolf. And speaking of belly—”

“I'm not hungry.” As soon as Iris says that, her stomach growls, prompting the chief to raise a brow. “I'll eat when I have to.”

Ugh, how difficult can this girl be? Being a martyr? Walking over to the tray of food, she plucks a roll, still warm, and chucks it straight at her.

The girl lets it stumble as she attempts to grab it, having it fall in her lap. She picks up the roll, plays with the crust a little bit as her stomach growls loudly.

“You have pretty shit reflexes, but that will be fixed.” Pulling up one of the chairs, she places it right next to Iris's bed, sitting down right after. “Eat the damn bread so you can get your strength.”

Sighing in annoyance, the redhead takes a piece of bread the size of her thumb and pops it in her mouth.

“Chew.”

Iris glances at her in a way that nearly makes her smile.

This little shit.

“Do it.” Frost mimes the action, raises her brows slightly. As Iris does what she's told, the action of picking and eating like a baby bird, she leans back in the chair, thinking of how to go about this.

In the days since she's come to the temple, the redhead has been made quite a real spectacle. Others wondering what to do with her. Send her off to death's door? What the Grandmaster was going to do?

Will she be one of them?

The Grandmaster had decided this last night while Iris slept, discussing it with Frost that she should be the one to tell her. Since she is babysitting and all. At first Frost almost disagreed, but after a short conversation, she knew. This girl had fire.

She needs a purpose. And here it is.

“You said my reflexes will be fixed, what do you mean?” Iris says, half of the roll now gone. It's a good sight.

“First, a question: do you know who we are?”

“You wear blue... I think my brothers told me about you.” Iris stops, thinks. “You're in that feud with another clan, right?”

Frost bites the inside of her cheek at that. No need to unload all of that. “We're known as the Lin Kuei.” she explains. “We've had a bit of bad blood in her history, but we're with a new purpose: to protect Earthrealm.” As Iris looks at her, she forms a ice crystal in the shape of the clan's symbol. “Our Grandmaster sees potential in you. You have the spirit of a fighter, in his eyes.”

“But, I—”

“Shut up. I don't care if you think you'd rather die than join us, I think know you have a real shot here. Training, fighting. And you'll have me as your mentor.”

“Oh joy.”

“Listen to me: You can find something new here. If you want to torture yourself, by all means, walk out the door and find a way to end it. But if you want to have a chance, if you want to change something that happened to you. Join us.”

Iris looks at her for a moment, then the ice crystal. Fingers reach out to brush against it, a slight cloud of steam. And Frost could almost feel it: the change in her mindset. The roll in her hands starts to change color, going from a light golden to a charred black. Burning it. Her amber eyes glow with a fire that only one thing could singe it.

“I take it that's a yes.”

[basilstorm]

When I Am Five

When I am 5, I throw myself on the ground in Target, screaming hysterically that my mother hit me.

She didn’t; not that time. She tells me that ‘they’ will take me away, and I think, “good, let them”. But then she tells me that whoever gets me will be abusive, and I shiver. I am lucky for what I have, I realize. I am grateful to not be abused. I never cry for help again.

I discover quite young that my mom’s attitude reaches to me and me alone. My brother is a saint - a perfect, angelic boy from even when he was an infant - and I am a villain. Why did he sit happily at the age when I needed to move? Why did he smile and giggle while I screamed? Why was my mom’s labor so much worse with me? Why was I always making things hard on her? My sister is a brat, when she is born, but she’s favored as well. I am the oldest. I am meant to be responsible.

My mom hits me much more than my dad. He’s the one more in support of corporal punishment, but he tends to prefer discussions of his own father whipping him and beating him with a belt to actually hurting us. He spanks me a few times, and I always know I deserve it when he does it. His voice is booming and he doesn’t get angry often, so I know that when he does I’m in trouble. He speaks the truth - he threatens things rarely, and I always believe him. “They’ll lock you up”, he says. “Keep throwing fits and they’ll lock you up in a crazy people hospital. They’ll put you in a strait jacket and cut open your brain until they figure out what’s wrong with you. You should be glad to be here. With them, you’ll get shocked every time you throw a fit.”

My mom has a scary voice too. Even when I get bigger and she doesn’t tower over me as much, her words and rhetorical questions mixed with barbed insults sting like a poison, and sink into my mind for forever. I don’t answer, because when I do she thinks I’m talking back. It angers her anyways; I realize she wants responses, wants reasons to snap at me. I provide what she wants sometimes, but the arguments go on longer. I shrug and say “I don’t know” and smile at her whenever she asks, now. It angers her more, but at least I don’t have to open up. I’ve built a wall inside, and I retreat behind it. All that’s left behind is animalistic thoughts of escape and self-defense while my body’s eyes glaze over and I let a smirk freeze onto my face.

I’m afraid of things near my eyes. Her nails are always done, sharp and angles directly to where I can’t escape them. Stepping back is cowardice. Most times I’m strong enough to force a grin and blink slowly at her. When I panic, I blink more quickly, tears blurring my gaze. When she twitches towards me, I move instinctively away, and I hate myself for it. She jabs her nails right in front of my gaze, inches away, and I fight back waves of terrified nausea. I rub my eyes sometimes, feign touching my face or pushing my hair back to disguise my attempts to hide. That makes her angrier than anything. Still, sometimes, when I’m feeling weak... I can’t help myself.

My grades are an issue, always. My average is a 3.8. “Why isn’t it a 3.9?” My average is now a 3.9. “You could get a 4.0 if you tried. If you applied yourself. I’m only yelling at you because you’re not giving it your all.” I ask when it will be enough, why she can’t be happy with an A on a test or sometimes even an A+. “You could do better.” She compliments my report cards when they come, and then throws out, “but I know you could do better.” My best written essays and near perfect tests get recognition when she’s in a good mood. But most of the time, an A gets the same response as a C. So what’s the point in trying? It takes self-motivation stemming from spite to force myself to score well. I don’t tell her my grades much, unless I get a bad score and need to cushion it to avoid real anger. When my teacher says I don’t apply myself, she comes home with a smug grin and tears into me. I can do better. I need to do better. Or I can accept that I’ll never be enough and live with mediocrity. It’s a lot easier, so that’s what I do.

Throwing myself on the ground is a symbol, now. To her, it’s something to tell everyone she comes across. Workplace acquaintances, my teachers, my friends. “My daughter is nothing but trouble. She complains about me, but you could never imagine how hard she made things on me. Once she threw herself on the ground in public and screamed that I hit her.” I force my eyes down, humiliation creeping over. She tells my best friend at dinner, right in front of me. My friend turns to look at me, and the self-righteous grin on my mom’s face sneaks out. It’s gone when my friend turns back.

I still throw myself on the ground now, at 18. If I don’t, she hits harder. She screams closer and closer to my face, jabs at my eyes, slaps. It’s an over-dramatic response, but it’s the only thing I can think of to do to escape. To put some distance between us. “I didn’t hit you that hard” never earns a response. “Get up” rarely does, only if there’s another threat of punishment. As angry as she gets, I think she likes seeing me react with so much fear. My siblings talk in the other room, unconcerned; they don’t have to deal with any of this, and it’s a typical scene for them. Lord knows if I fight back, my little sister will go running after my mom while she cries. Because, my mom loves me. Of course she’s crying, she’s trying her best to care for an impossible child.

My mom cries a lot if I talk back. She locks herself into the bathroom and sobs. I can never tell if it’s real, but one time she tells me (and me alone) that if I wasn’t careful with what I said, she might just kill herself in there. She sees the way I glance at the other room, and asks how I would tell my siblings that our mom killed herself because I’m so fucked up. That I drove her to end her life in our house. I never feel safe when she’s upset. My sister is young. I don’t know if she’s telling the truth, but I can’t hurt my sister like that.

Her thoughts are ingrained in mine. I do my best to separate from existence itself, but I can’t hide. When my psychiatrist does an intake exam, my mom lies. My dad lets it happen. Sometimes she goes after him, so he stays gone. I hate being alone with her, and part of it is selfishly because he draws attention away from me by being alive. I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to be her. I am a spiteful creature. I am nasty, I am hurtful. I am bad. I deserve everything I get. I don’t have any respect, or decency. I can’t play nice, and if I can’t find a way to make myself understood, I shouldn’t complain about the intense separation between me and others. I am only isolated because I isolate myself. There’s something wrong with me. If I let people see what’s wrong with me, they’ll chain me up, beat me, kill me. There is something intrinsically wrong with me, and I should be able to figure it out and fix it. That’s why they act they way they do; they’re just trying to help, to fix me in the only way they know. They love me, don’t they tell me that? Don’t I understand? They don’t want to hurt me, but this is the only way I behave. I deserve it. I deserve it.

[goldenhour-goldenboy]

hiya, just wondering if you could please write about the brotherly relationship between Will and benny, it wasn't really focused on too much in the movie and your detail is perfect!! thank u xox

I want to focus more on the points that haven’t been brought up by me or other writer’s in the past. I feel like I’ve been a bit repetitive in the last couple things I wrote and I’m sorry if those points seem a bit random to you. Also I think I have a fever right now so spelling is probably not too great and I think I’ll find a million mistakes when I read over it in a week again lol

Brotherly relationship (Miller brothers)

William and Ben don’t necessarily talk about each other’s feelings to each other a lot. They’re both used to deal with a lot of the emotional baggage themselves and tend to shut the world out of their heads, leaving them often more isolated than necessary. If they feel the need to communicate their thoughts it’s usually something with a big impact on them, going on for a bit before they finally mustered the courage to show that something’s not right with them. Then, they’re one of the first people they turn to each other, looking for the familiar bond they’ve been growing over the years. Growing up with each other has made it very simple for not only William but Benny as well, to read the other one and recognizing when something is not right it often doesn’t need much for them to realize something’s bothering the other one.

It’s usually shooting the other one a look if they’re in public and asking without any words “Are you alright, brother?”. The actual talk happens later, more often they find each other sitting in their car in the driveway, unable to get out before voicing their thoughts. It seems easier to do so in the safety of a car, easier to leave if the conversation gets too heavy and so they’re used to talk for hours, sitting on the worn out leather seats of William’s pick-up.

They’re both highly competitive with each other. It mostly shows when they’re training together or both happen to be working on perfection on a certain skill, though their competitive nature is triggered with anyone else, it’s worse when the two brothers are going against each other. 

They’re very particular in when to actively try to one up each other though, realizing quickly in which situation they have a real chance or not. It’s more for fun then, Benny knowing that William will outtake him any day if they’re wrestling and William being sure as hell that Ben can shoot him from 10 miles away with one eye closed.

Whenever they do feel as if they’re both the best in a field of expertise, they’re no stopping them though. Rounds will be counted, Tom used as a Referee as both Fish and Pope get too caught up in the excitement and neither can be trusted to handle a fair score and a win never lasting for long as a rematch is always demanded immediately.

It has happened more than often that they don’t approve each other’s partners or chosen fling for the week, though the last one refers mostly to Benny’s short term relationships. It’s a protective trait of their’s really, wanting a genuine person for the other one and accepting nothing less than true love.

William’s forgiving nature tends to create a problem in his relationship sooner or later, his partner’s often times taking advantage of that and it leads him to overlook obvious signs that this might not work out. Everyone else usually sees the breakup coming from a mile away but William is still heartbroken whenever it happens, knowing now what went wrong but often realizing it too late. Benny’s very vocal about his concerns from the beginning, urging his brother to call it quits a long time before William realizes that this relationship won’t work out in the long run.

Benny on the other hand tends to lose his heart on the weekly to this or that person, without really taking his time to get to know them and it’s a reflex at this point that William doesn’t even try to get to know the new person at his side anymore. At heart Benny is a hopeless romantic, often times glossing his own excitement over his partners flaws and idolizing them to a point where William can’t help but roll his eyes whenever Ben gushes about this new girl he met at the ring. Will learned that trying to reason with his brother is pointless, so he sits back and says nothing, letting the younger one swoon over his newest person of interest, simply waiting for the ship to crash. It’s over a couple weeks later and Benny’s moping the way Benny mopes - in training.

William helped his brother through his first kill, Benny retching everything he had eaten that day out behind a tent. They’re standing a bit apart from everyone else walking around camp and Benny’s glad that his brother followed him the second he tried to slip away from the group that just came back from the mission. They’re both still suited up, dried mud covering their boots and mixed in with their sweat on their face and Benny feels as if the dense heat will give him the rest. 

William waits until his brother is done, Benny wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and accepting a bottle of water from William more than grateful. Will kept his distance as his Ben tried to get the sickening feeling of having just taken someone’s life out of his stomach, but he never took his hand off of Ben’s back, rubbing small circles over his drenched uniform and making sure that his brother sat down after he was finished.

Will is careful not linger too much though, knowing that his brother tries to stand his own here and William still treating him as a little brother will hurt his pride more than than it helps him through this moment. It’s hard coming to terms with what Ben had just done, William knows that and there’s really nothing he can say to make it any less painful so he sits down next to his brother and just breathes with him for a bit.

One would think that it’s Benny who convinces Will to join him in his mischief but often enough it is actually the other way around. Whenever the two got together and had a stupid idea in mind they’d honestly be the most destructible duo because Benny is stupidly brave and William is one of the smartest people you’ll probably ever meet, making them the perfect combination for a disaster. 

They’d done a lot of stupid and sometimes even reckless stuff, leaving their mother fuming and even worse, their dad terribly angry whenever he found out about it and though they’d idolize their dad immensely, both brother’s would never think of telling on the other when they got in trouble afterwards. It was always them against the world, sometimes even meaning that it was them against their parents.

It becomes a whole other conversation when one of them felt they’re being treated unfairly though! At the end of the day they’re still siblings, both of them whined their faire share to their mother about the other one getting more candy or staying up later than they were supposed to do resulting in the other one defending themselves and pointing out that someone had failed their math test and hasn’t told it yet even though it’s been a week by now.

They have a very specific sense of humor with each other, built on memories and the undeniable influence of their dad. It’s a weird mix between black humor and the most childish things ever. A couple of little moments that amuses one of them leads to quickly locking eyes with the other one and both of them grin from ear to ear in seconds, remembering the same memory that none of the group can share with them. It’s quick teeth in a sharp smile, muffled laughter and a comfortable sigh at the end that let’s them both reminiscent in those moments.

The first time William gets shot in a mission Benny feels like punching everyone in sight until he’s allowed in the medic tent. He’s raging, mostly because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do and neither Pope nor any of his other mates seem to find the right words to get through to him. 

When he’s finally allowed in, Benny feels as if his chest stops working and for a moment he can only stare. William is lying pale in front of Benny, half his chest covered with white fresh bandages, an IV hooked onto him and Benny is suddenly very calm as he carefully steps closer to his brother, eyes flickering over his body. „You’re such a fucking shithead.“ It’s the first thing that comes to his mind then and makes Will laugh, although it turns into a wheezing cough immediately and Benny regrets having said anything at all. He blinks aways some tears that involuntarily come instantly but one manages to slip down his cheek and he wipes it away hastily. William notices though and weakly lifts a hand to slap his brothers side, Benny misunderstanding his intentions and grabbing it on instinct, catching both of them off guard. Will takes a sharp, rattled breath and squeezes his brother’s hand for a second before forcing a smile onto his face, a tired one but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah well.. got what I deserved. Next time you can volunteer to get yourself shot, shithead.”

When William was nine and Benny was five they build a small tree house in their backyard, that’s mostly come apart by now. Back then they were kids, they didn’t want any adult help, being immensely proud to have accomplished to built it on their own, even though it’s mostly just tied wood together and some roughly assembled nails here and there (their dad might or might not have sneaked up one early morning and secured the whole thing so his sons wouldn’t end up in a tragic death) 

The old thing actually survived until now which is honestly a miracle and neither their mom or dad had the heart to take it down (”Maybe one day my grandchildren will want to play with it!”). One night, when Benny and Will just came back from their first tour, they celebrated in their backyard and got incredibly drunk and decided that NOW would be a good idea to climb that thing and of course, the minute William plants down his bottom they hear a very suspicious creak and next thing they now they’re on the ground, at least William is. Benny’s still tangling on one branch and yelling at William that he has gotten too fat and that he’s not allowed into any tree house of Benny’s ever again ensuring a whole discussion of whom’s tree house it was in the first place.

Even though Benny is Will’s brother and he obviously loves him to death, he is also his brother. Which means he’s the quickest to get on Ironhead’s nerves and he surprisingly does so more as a grown adult as when they were younger. Maybe William felt more responsible as a child for his Baby brother and might have let Ben get away with more but now that there both grown up Benny still likes to tease his older brother every once in a while and he’s brilliant in pushing Will’s buttons just so he can get a reaction out of him. 

In return Will likes to feed Benny false information that he hopes he will embarrass himself with in a conversation some time later (bonus points if it’s to try to impress a girl). It’s a longer process but as Will has an amazing amount of random knowledge and seems as the more responsible one, Benny trusts him almost when Will explains for example that they’ve just discovered a very a new planet in our solar system. Whenever William is within earshot and Benny talks to Pope about what he just heard one can hear William cackling silently to himself as Pope very slowly tries to explain to Ben that he’s been had - again.

[rhysanoodle]

In My Blood

A/N: In which Cassian again participates in the Blood Rite and both he and Nesta must deal with the consequences, post-ACOFAS

Nessian angst

Word count: 1856

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4

Gods. Everything fucking hurt.

As Cassian slowly began to regain consciousness, there was little room for thoughts of anything else. What the in the rutting hells had happened? He was still drugged so thoroughly that he couldn’t sort out the memory of the past few days in his head.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to come back to us,” a beautiful voice trilled. Mor. He opened his eyes to find her at his bedside, Azriel flanking his other side. Rhys, Feyre, and Amren were all standing in the doorway.

There was another scent that took him a moment to place.

Nesta. Where was she? Had she been here? Visited him while he was still unconscious? The thought of that was utterly laughable. She hadn’t given two shits about him for over a year. They’d lived together in the same house, and she couldn’t even be bothered to speak to him unless required to.

He’d tried. Even done some quite childish things to try to get a rise out of her, to make her acknowledge him for once. Every time, he’d just been met with...nothing. Emptiness.

Eventually, he’d stopped trying. Cassian wasn’t going to let her see how truly lonely and unhappy he was. His friends could’ve at least bothered to visit him more often to help pull him out of this pit of despair that had been slowly swallowing him since he’d been isolated here.

Choosing to ignore her possible presence for now, Cassian turned to Mor, and pasted the most cocky grin he could on his face. “You’re not supposed to be my dashing prince, I hope.”

That earned him a light smack on the arm. Fuck. Even though the small scrapes he’d had there had already healed rather nicely, everything still just burned. Hissing, he jerked it away from her, but Mor wasn’t done with him.

“I swear on the Cauldron if you ever do something so reckless again…” Tears were streaming down her face now as she failed to finish that thought, and Cassian flinched. He’d known how much this would hurt her. They’d decided to try to keep this operation fairly secretive. It had been a last minute bargain made out of desperation, and he hadn’t wanted the others worrying about him.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Mor,” Rhys murmured from the doorway. “Nobody outside the camp members and myself and Feyre were supposed to know until it was all settled.”

Mor gave her cousin a withering look that Cassian knew meant he’d be paying for that decision later but thankfully let it go.

“If it helps, the camp lords are pissing themselves right now. I even had some trying to convince me that you were too indisposed to accept your new title in some sort of sad attempt to find any loophole which would change the outcome,” Rhys smirked.

“It seems a good amount of money was bet on their prized sons coming away victorious, especially considering the fact that they schemed to team up against you, and some of their families are now absolutely devastated. Pity.” The smug look on Rhys’ face as he picked at his nails indicated that his brother thought it was anything but.

“I’m ready to get to work now. Let’s get me crowned and get this over with,” Cassian grimaced as he tried to sit up. Fire shot through his abdomen, forcing him back down onto the bed.

“It can wait, Cass. For all intents and purposes, the bargain crowned you the second you landed in Windhaven. A public ceremony can wait. Madja mentioned the fact that your intestines were practically hanging out of your gut when you arrived. You need to rest for a few days, and that’s an order.” Rhys’ last sentence was clipped, obviously fighting back an urge to scold him that would make him damn well hypocritical. This had been Cassian’s idea, yes, but Rhys and Feyre had agreed, even knowing the danger he’d be facing.

“Let me worry about the little things, brother,” Azriel pleaded from his side. “If there is anything pressing, I can always come ask for your opinion, but I think I can handle breaking your throne in for you for one measly week.”

“A week?” Cassian gasped.

“Yes, you moron.” Feyre approached to embrace him. “Your magic was stifled during the Rite, and as they begin to return to you, even your enhanced healing abilities can only work so quickly. And we won’t have you in anything but the best shape when you formally take up your position. You need to show them strength, Cassian, and showing up looking and feeling halfway to death won’t help you accomplish that. I don’t give a damn if they’re all bargain-sworn to serve you.”

“But…” Cassian was speechless at the thought of being bedridden for a week. That was practically an eternity. He’d gone out of his mind while waiting for his wings to heal, and he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to be cooped up for so long again.

“We’ve already made the arrangements. You’ll spend another night here so Madja can make sure you remain stable, but we’ve gotten permission to move you home tomorrow. Where...Nesta will keep up with your care...” Feyre blushed a bit as she managed to struggle through the last part.

“What?” Cassian bit out a laugh, heart beginning to pound furiously. “Nesta doesn’t even tolerate me. She won’t sit in the same room as me or answer me when I ask her simple questions, and you expect her to want to wait on me hand-and-foot while I can’t move? I don’t know what you’ve all been smoking as you’ve been waiting with baited breath for my miraculous recovery, but can I have some?”

“Umm...it’s true. Your house only has the two bedrooms, and as Nesta is currently staying there, we’ve asked if she would do you the favor,” Feyre muttered, but she wouldn’t look Cassian in the eyes. She had to be hiding something.

“The infirmary needs all the extra beds we can help vacate. Don’t worry. We’ll still be taking an extended vacation in Windhaven and will make sure to come check in on you too, but this will be easiest for everyone.”

“And what if I refuse?” Cassian retorted, suddenly furious with them for making such a decision without his input. Nesta had surely only agreed because Feyre promised her money or clothing or booze if she was truly desperate, and it disgusted him. He couldn’t stomach being this object of pity that forced her to be in his presence.

“Then I guess you’ll just starve and piss yourself,” Feyre bit back. “This is happening. End of discussion.” The ire in her eyes made even him, a male almost six centuries old, recoil a little. He understood the direct order that was being given to him, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Once, he would’ve been giddy at the idea of Nesta being forced to spend time with him, but he’d already been given that sentence — and the two of them had been trapped together for the past year in an unbearable silence.

Maybe afterwards, they’d finally let her leave though, and Cassian would be free to move on with his life, without the shadow of her presence lurking in his periphery constantly. They’d more or less settled the conflict they’d been sent to quell, and while there would still be much to do as he adapted to his new title, Nesta was no longer necessary to help him achieve his goals.

He’d ask it of Rhys and Feyre the moment he was crowned, as a customary gift. All he had to do was make it through this week without her biting his head off.

“Fine,” he grumbled, looking her dead in the eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your beauty rest soon, but there’s somebody else who’d like to have a word with you,” Rhys said.

As his friends filed out of the room, the scent caught in his nostrils. Nesta. Shit.

She was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. The pain of learning about how they’d be spending the next week of their lives was still too fresh. He groaned and raised his arm above his head to cover his eyes and block out the view of the female who was most certainly about to walk through that door. His wound cried out in pain at the motion, but it was worth it. He didn’t want to formally acknowledge her presence.

“Cassian…” she murmured from the doorway. Her tone was softer, almost contemplative. The complete opposite of the one usually reserved wholly for him.

He laid there in silence.

“I know you’re awake.” Closer now, as if she’d sat down next to him in the chair Mor had vacated. And that scent. Up close now, he was assaulted by it. It still absolutely intoxicated him, much to his chagrin. He tried to tamp down those thoughts.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Ha. That was rich.

“Nesta, I’m sure Feyre sent you in here with instructions to act like you didn’t hate me because I almost just died, but you don’t have to keep up the facade anymore,” Cassian gritted out. “Let’s just make it through this next week, and then I’ll ask your sister if you can be free from this ridiculous assignment. You can move out — move wherever the hell you want. I don’t care.” Even as he spat the words, he could feel their untruth deep in his gut, but he was so endlessly tired. He couldn’t keep living like this.

“I volunteered, you know, for this next week,” Nesta whispered.

“Ha. Don’t give me that shit. I know it’s the last thing you’d ever sign up for. Feyre already told me they asked you. What’d they have to buy you to convince you to say yes?” Surely, she was just lying to him out of pity, or some other strange instinct that even Nesta couldn’t ignore when she saw him so wounded.

“Fine. Think whatever you want about me. I don’t care,” Nesta snapped back. There she was.

“Not able to keep that mask on for very long were you?” he retorted. “Glad to see your true feelings are back out in the open.” This was the longest conversation they’d had in weeks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she gritted out and stalked out of the room.

Only then did Cassian uncover his eyes, and as he did, he realized how weary he still was. Almost getting cleaved in two really did take a lot out of him, but the past few minutes of conversation had temporarily heightened his senses.

As he began drifting off, he couldn’t help the niggling feeling in his gut that something was off about his conversation with Nesta. That maybe she had been slightly sincere and he had made a mistake in rebuffing her, but he was unable to consider it further as sleep dragged him under once again.

Tagging: @porcelainart @theartfuldodgcr @tswaney17 @lordof-bloodshed @aelinashgalathynius @anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @huntress-of-velaris @refreshtoexpress @mikaylamee

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[imaginethatalena]

#133: Loki x Reader

Thanks @anhartcuteneon for requesting ❤

Tag List: @underworldsheiress Add yourself to the Tag List

Request Part 1, Part 2, Part 3: Can u do a Ragnarok imagine taking place in the beginning?After a political meeting,u walk outside 2 see ur friend Thor flying with his hammer.U wave at him 2 get his attention,he sees u & lands down.U guys say hi 2 each other & tell how uv been(while u jaw drop at him holding Surtur’s crown)until u ask him where he’s heading.Thor says that he’s going 2 see Odin.U ask him if u could tag along since u were on ur way 2 speak with him anyway.He doesn’t see why not & grabs hold of u as u 2 take off. When u both arrive at the theater, ur just as weirded out as Thor when u see a statue of Loki (ur former lover) & comment how badly the play was made. It didn’t help either when it reminded u that u were present when Loki “died” at Svarltalheim (but u keep ur cool). After the play, u & Thor go confront “Odin” as Thor tells him he needs 2 get his s**t together while u tell him how uv been having 2 take over 4 the council meetings since he hasn’t been showing up. When Loki reveals himself, ur not surprised but get mor upset (no tears though) as u tell Loki how despicable he is until he interrupts u. While Thor threatens Loki with his hammer as he asks him where Odin’s at, u threaten him with ur sword. And when Loki tells u that he nos where Odin’s at, u should totally end it by having u & Thor look at each other before u say “prove it”. Don’t make any1 OOC. Like the last GOTG one-shot, could u copy the actual dialogue from the movie here as well? Thanks!

Tag List: @underworldsheiress Add yourself to the Tag List

Rules for requesting.

Political meetings were an unavoidable nuisance that came with being Asgardian royalty, but they hardly did any good for the people. Things had changed ever since Thor had left and Loki had died, and not for the better. It seemed that Odin was a completely different person now. Concubines served him food and drink, a statue of Loki had been built in his fallen son’s honor, and he had written and directed a play of the life of the Trickster to be performed at all hours of the day. Asgard was unrecognizable to you now, but you were glad to see a familiar face soaring over you.

You waved to your old friend and he landed next to you, at the feet of Loki’s statue. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Surtur’s crown on his back, planning on asking him how he had defeated Surtur, but he had a question for you.

“What the hell is that?” were his first words as he stared at the memorial, his brother’s likeness standing tall in the sun with his arms spread wide. You laughed at his expression.

“It’s an eyesore, but it’s here to stay,” you told him and embraced him. “Hopefully you’re here to stay, too. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Lady Y/N,” he said, returning your embrace. “I’m here to see my father.”

“I’ll go with you. He’s at the amphitheater.”

Thor was clearly confused, as there had never been an amphitheater in the palace before, but he followed you anyway.

“Is Odin well?” he asked you, noticing your uneasiness.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Well isn’t what I would call it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

You heard the gentle harmony of a choir as you neared the amphitheater, stepping to the front of the crowd so Thor could see what was going on. You tried to hide how upset you immediately became. They were on the scene where Loki had sacrificed himself on Svartalfheim. You had been there when he died, and you had been forced to relive it, however terribly, too many times by Odin. How Sif and the Warriors Three ended up in the narrative, you didn’t know. All you knew was that it was painful to watch, but a little less so now that Thor was with you.

“Oh, brother,” the actor playing Loki moaned. “This is it. I take my leave.”

“You fool,” the actor playing Thor scolded him. “You didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry,” the Loki imposter gasped, and his partner told “Lady Sif” to get help, and she fled from the stage screeching for help.

“I’m sorry for all I’ve done,” Loki’s actor said. “I’m sorry I tried to rule Earth.”

“They’d be lucky to have you,” Thor’s actor said, and you rolled your eyes. Thor glanced between you and the actors, not sure whether to be disgusted or angry.

“I’m sorry about that thing with the Tesseract. I just couldn’t help myself. I’m a trickster.”

“So mischievous.”

“Sorry about that time I turned you into a frog.”

“It was a wonderful joke.”

“It was indeed hilarious,” you heard Odin agree, and Thor looked to his father with confusion.

You had to fight to compose yourself when an actress playing you fell to her knees next to Loki’s actor, clutching his hand to her chest.

“Oh, my husband,” she wailed with sadness. “My strong, handsome, brave husband. How will I ever go on without you at my side? We will never share another night together. We will never have children. You leave me widowed without hope for happiness. I will always love you.”

You blinked back tears, and you felt Thor’s arm around you. You gave him a grateful look, glad he was finally home. You had never shared yours and Loki’s last words to each other with Odin, but somehow he managed to write lines that were close to them. You had promised to always love him, and you’d never broken that promise.

“This is disgraceful,” Thor murmured to you.

“It’s just a bad play,” you said, but he was right. This play spat in the face of everything you and Thor had struggled to do. You would never dare say anything to Odin, though. He was adamant that this play be a permanent piece of Asgard’s culture.

“You are the savior of Asgard,” Thor’s actor told Loki.

“Tell my story,” Loki’s actor told him. “Build a statue for me.”

“We will build a big statue for you.”

“With my helmet on. With the big bendy horns.”

“I will tell Father what you did here today,” Thor’s actor said, a tear crawling down his cheek.

“I didn’t do it for him,” Odin whispered.

“I didn’t do it for him,” Loki’s actor said, and finally “died” with a small grunt.

Thor’s actor did his best to roar out an agonized “NOOOOOOOOO!” while your actress “fainted” from her grief, the choir crooning a soft melody of mourning.

“And so, Loki died of his wounds, giving his life for ours,” a new actor portraying Odin said as he crossed the stage. “He fought back those disgusting elves. He brought peace to the realm.”

Odin’s actor turned to a new actor, a little boy painted blue, as he arrived on stage and climbed onto a rock. “Loki, my boy. It was many moons ago I found you on that frostbitten battlefield. On that day, I did not yet see in you Asgard’s savior. No. You were merely a little blue baby icicle that melted this old fool’s heart.”

“Bravo! Bravo!” Odin stood to applaud with the audience, and the actors went through their bows. You and Thor headed in Odin’s direction so they could speak. Odin was surrounded by his concubines and enjoying a glass of wine, so he didn’t notice you at first.

“Father,” Thor said, finally catching his father’s attention.

Odin turned to Thor and uttered two words you never thought you’d hear from the king of Asgard. “Oh shit.” He recovered quickly and announced Thor’s return to the people in the amphitheater. You furrowed your brow in suspicion, wondering why Odin would have such a reaction, and you knew Thor was wondering the same thing.

“It’s a very interesting play,” Thor commented as he approached his father, you following close behind. “What’s it called?”

“The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard,” Odin told him. “The people wanted to commemorate him.”

“Indeed they should,” Thor said. “I like the statue. A lot better looking than he was when he was alive, though. A little less weasley. A little less greasy, maybe.”

Odin only offered one short laugh, and Thor gave an Einherjar the skull and told them to lock it up in the vault so it wouldn’t destroy the planet.

“So, it’s, um, back to Midgard for you is it?” Odin asked, poorly concealing how tense he was.

“Nope.” Thor tossed Mjolnir into the air and caught it again. “You know, I’ve been having this recurring dream lately. Every night I see Asgard falling into ruins.”

“That’s just a silly dream,” Odin told his son as he approached him. “Signs of an overactive imagination.”

“Possibly,” Thor agreed. “But then I decided to go and investigate and do you know what I find? The Nine Realms completely in chaos. Enemies of Asgard assembling, plotting our demise, all while you, Odin, the protector of those nine realms, are sitting here in your bathrobe eating grapes.” Thor tossed and caught Mjolnir again, almost chest to chest with his father.

“Yes, well, it is best to respect our neighbors’ freedom,” Odin said, obviously reaching for a reason for Asgard’s isolation and ignorance.

“Yes of course. The freedom to be massacred.” Thor sent Mjolnir flying away, a little past Odin’s shoulder, before it returned to his hand.

“Yes, well, I’ve been rather busy myself,” Odin said.

“Watching theater,” Thor said.

“Well, board meetings and security council meetings,” Odin tried to say, but Thor looked to you for the truth.

“I was just at a meeting,” you said. “He hasn’t attended one in months. The advisors have been left to rule without an executive decision, so we’ve been able to do nothing to protect ourselves or secure order. I’m the reason the council hasn’t fallen apart and abandoned their duties.”

Thor turned back to his father with a sigh. “You’re really gonna make me do it.”

“Do what?” Odin asked, a bit of panic in his eyes. Thor threw Mjolnir as far as he could, sending it soaring into the distance until we couldn’t see it anymore.

“Thor, what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes wide as you realized what was happening. You put your hand on the hilt of your sword, hoping you wouldn’t have to use it. Thor ignored you, putting his hands at Odin’s shoulders as he went to stand behind him.

“You know that nothing will stop Mjolnir as it returns to my hand,” Thor said, then gripped the back of Odin’s neck. “Not even your face.”

“Thor!” you exclaimed. “That’s your father! What are you doing?”

“You’ve gone quite mad!” Odin snapped. “You will be executed for this!”

“Then I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Your eyes widened at Thor’s words, sure he had gone crazy. Mjolnir was zooming back, getting closer and closer, and you were prepared to knock Odin out of the way when you heard Loki’s voice come out of his mouth.

“Alright, I yield!” A golden glow rippled across Odin’s body, replacing him with the raven-haired man you had thought you’d never see again.

Thor pushed Loki away, sending him stumbling out of the way as Mjolnir narrowly missed him. Gasps and exclamations of shock were uttered around you, and Loki froze where he stood, not sure what to do or say until he turned back to his brother. He gave Thor a grin just as Scourge burst through the crowd, struggling to catch his breath.

“Behold Thor Odinson--”

“No.” Loki snapped, holding a finger up to silence Scourge as he turned to him. “You had one job. Just the one.”

Loki was alive. He was standing there, right in front of you, alive and healthy and and as handsome as you remembered him. You want to run to him and embrace him, but you didn’t. You were struggling to rein in your anger.

“Where’s Odin?” Thor demanded.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” Loki asked, that damn grin still on his face. “Everything was fine without you. Asgard was prospering. You’ve ruined everything. Ask them.” Loki had dared to step closer to Thor, who didn’t have the patience for Loki’s taunts. Quite frankly, you didn’t, either.

“How dare you.” Your words made Loki finally look to you, forcing him to face your wrath. “I’ve been grieving you, and all this time you stood by in silence while I suffered. Never one word of comfort, no hint that you weren’t gone.”

“This was the most complicated lie I’ve ever had to tell,” Loki told you with genuine sadness. “I couldn’t have any reason for someone to suspect me.”

“You’re despicable!” you shouted at him. “What kind of man leaves his wife alone with her grief and puts her trauma on the stage for the whole world to see?”

“I never meant to scorn you.” Those words did nothing to ease your pain. You didn’t know whether to burst into tears or scream at Loki some more. He looked like he was about to say something else, but Thor wasn’t interested in hearing any more excuses from him.

“Where’s Father?” You unsheathed your sword as you watched Thor take long strides towards Loki, forcing him back onto the couch he was lounging on minutes before. “Did you kill him?”

You got to Loki before Thor did, the tip of your blade at his throat to keep him from escaping.

“You have what you wanted. You have the independence you asked for,” Loki tried to reason with his brother, but his silver tongue seemed to have rusted, because all it took was the weight of Mjolnir on his chest to get him to tell the truth.

“Ow ow ow ow! Okay! I know exactly where he is!”

You and Thor looked to each other, then back to Loki. “Prove it.”

Buy me a coffee?