#‘oh I feel their broken hands start to squeeze out my soul but I cannot give up control’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 12)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi, so...either in this chapter I completely dissapoint you or I pleasantly surprise you, I’m very much hoping for the latter lol. I would love to hear your thoughts on this, cause I’m an insecure little fuck and I’m very afraid you’ll all hate this chapter and where the story goes from now on lol

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me

Decided to post this a day earlier cause ffs, between the fucking election and minks with covid and destiel and putin, the world doesn’t make sense anymore. So fuck it, have some Ivar :)

“Word has it that the King has made you a free woman.” The girl whispers, handing you a piece of bread and sitting beside you, looking out at the stars.

“Mhm.”

“We’ve known you were more than a prisoner since the moment you arrived, though.” She quips quietly.

“Oh.” You can only mutter, but the surprise is written in your face.

Freydis smiles, warm and a little cold at the same time, “It is written in the way you walk, witch. You were never a slave, were you?”

“If you are asking if the Saxons kept me a prisoner, the answer is no. That privilege seems to be reserved for your King.” If your last words drip with venom and anger, she does not mention it. You dare think she understands.

“I was. But now, like you, I am free,” Freydis sentences, and this does bring your attention back to her eyes. Depthless blue eyes, perverse and innocent, relentless and broken. When the girl leans closer, you don’t move. Her words are barely a whisper, but carry the strength of the vow you hissed at Stithulf, “Neither you or me will die slaves to men.”

“To whom, then?”

“The Gods. Yours or mine, I do not know,” She answers simply, fierce when she hisses the words at you, “But we mustn’t settle with mortal men. What we have suffered, it has to…mean something. It has to mean we are destined for more, that we are more.”

“Sometimes pain is just pain, Freydis.” You offer quietly, but her mind is set. You wonder for a moment if these thoughts were what made her spirit survive her time as a slave.

“No,” She shakes her head, stubborn, “We are broken because our fate is to be strong, we are…we are defiled because we are to rise above it.”

You roll your eyes, and even if the conversation remains quiet in the dead of night your voice is strong when you argue, “Did Freyja release you from your binds? Will Despoina release me from mine?” The pain lacers at your heart, but you insist, “No. I shall not be thankful for an unending fight to survive.”

“Yet you survive.”

She is not talking about surviving the Byzantine warriors’ almost successful attempt to silence you like they did your mother. She is not talking about surviving the pain of years, centuries, that marks your soul, a pain that Freydis may not know about but understands regardless.

No. She’s talking of the ‘freedom’ you have garnered here in her homeland, of what it means to be a free woman in a world that steps over the ones that cannot fight like men. She is talking of surviving Ivar the Boneless.

As your eyes meet, different stories, different agonies, and different destinies meet as well; but you feel she understands, better than almost anyone, what guided your words, your steps, your promises, that made an army be laid at your feet, to make a mad King set you free.

“King Ivar was the one to free you.” You say quietly, leaning away from the girl. It is not even a question, is a realization. All her words, all her advice…she spoke from experience, more specific experience than you thought.

“He wasn’t a king then.”

A hopeless laugh leaves your lips, “What men like Ivar the Boneless need you to be, you become.” You repeat her words from a few weeks ago, a new meaning to them altogether.

The girl laughs as well, the sound dainty and musical even if it carries iron beneath, “Although now I realize you may have been too arrogant to lie.”

All you can offer her is a shrug and a sigh as you say, “I die on my own terms, with my own face, Freydis.”

“But you didn’t. Die, that is,” She insists, smile on her pale face that you find yourself starting to return in kind. Her hand settles on your knee and she squeezes and you wonder if it is in comfort or something else. “Whatever you are, he wants to keep for himself.”

You say nothing else, turning your gaze back into the sky outside, suddenly reminded of the circumstances that brought you here, of the invisible chains that still remain on you, of how you have failed to become what you ought to.

If we must, we will die. Resisting, like your mother and I taught you.

And yet you cower and accept scraps of freedom at the first chance you have. Shame and resentment fill your heart, and your mother’s favorite piece of jewelry hanging from your neck feels like a noose when your fingers toy with the old metal.

“Did you seduce him?” Freydis starts suddenly, dragging you away from your thoughts so quickly you find yourself disoriented.

You blink a couple of times before you can answer with anything other than a wordless sound to her question.

“What?”

She shrugs with one of her shoulders, drinking from her own cup of warm milk before explaining, “You earned your freedom, or whatever measure of it that you don’t seem to be happy with. Did you bed him for it?”

It should be insulting, but her clear eyes tell you she does not shame you for it. She seems almost…impressed. It still makes something churn at your insides, and you find yourself hating the world that bound her and made her a slave a little bit more.

“No,” You say, slowly, “Was I expected to?”

Did you? Is what your words whisper but you don’t dare voice, although you have an inkling that she hears it regardless. Her eyes remain on you for a few moments too long, and the start of a knowing smile curves at her lips.

The girl still shakes her head in response, “I was curious.”

“Why?” If you sound harsh, if what Sieghild calls your ‘Athenian nobility’ is heard in your tone, Freydis does not mention it.

“He wants you, you know that. Half of Kattegat wants you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She shrugs, “Word runs that he has never taken a woman to his bed. Earls have even gifted him noble women and slaves, but he never accepts them.

A part of you wants to ask why she is aware of all this. You remain silent however, looking back out at the stars and wondering why does she believe the King’s cock and its use or lack thereof is something you are interested in discussing.

“It’s not about beauty, the women brought in were the most beautiful I have seen,” She continues on, talking to herself as she recalls, “It’s also not about…power. Most I have seen wouldn’t be sharp-witted enough to try to get something out of him either.”

She seems to be willing to babble on, but a sharp voice interrupts you, no matter how quiet it is.

“Girl,” One of the older women chastises, gaze set on Freydis. “Eyes and ears follow the witch. Be careful.”

You are stunned into silence, as is the girl next to you, and when the quiet of night settles upon you, you can hear the rustling of leather and the deep breaths of soldiers set outside your door.

His guest. You guess to them being a guest just means a looser set of chains, or invisible shackles.

True fear settles in the girl’s pale eyes, and you reach to place a hand in her knee, placating her. The older woman, you do not know her name, motions so that you both move closer to the crackling fire and away from the windows.

“It will do you no good to gossip like this about any son of Ragnar, especially Ivar,” She advices, but a glint in her eye tells you of times in her youth spent just like this. She leans closer, and whispers, “And also, despite the rumors, you must remember he is a hot-blooded young man commanding an army, you oaf.”

“Maybe it’s about control,” The blonde ponders, side-glance directed at you. After a breath, she shrugs, “Maybe you were brought all the way here just to be fucked, witch.”

Freydis ends her sentence in a giggle, her voice quiet and eyes shining. The young girl behind the past suffering and fear.

The old woman smiles, and points towards you with her head, “She speaks like one of our own, she better fuck like one too.”

Her jest is well-meaning even if insulting, and used already to Sieghild’s equally brash humor, you only roll your eyes with a laugh.

The three of you continue exchanging secrets of this land and its people till the moon is high up the sky. It helps with the feeling of shame, the feeling of having betrayed your purpose; it helps, but it doesn’t quieten the voices that demand to know why you get the right to spend the night next to a warm fire laughing and exchanging stories while your people’s corpses are still fresh, while the survivors await the embrace of the incoming winter to let go of their strength.

When the whispers quieten, when the city sleeps, when you are left alone with your thoughts; you realize what a mistake you have made.

You were taught to fight, you were taught to resist. The Gods made you smart and ambitious, and it was for a reason. It may be Fate you are to cross paths with the Varangian, but it is not written that you are to be bound to him, you refuse to believe so.

You have fought with claws and teeth before, you have lied and kissed and promised to avoid bindings. There is no reason why you shouldn’t now, no reason why foolish thoughts and feelings should stop you from doing what you have before.

Fight. To return to your people. To remain free. To overcome.

And so, letting go of the guilt of not trying enough but with a new sort of guilt and shame settling upon you, you depart the apothecary towards the main hall in the dead of night.

You are not stupid, you know the Viking wants you, at least slightly, at least begrudgingly. And he knows he cannot get any political advantage from making you his wife, he may even lose power by making you queen. There aren’t many things he can force out of you, so that leaves your body.

So, if it is your body he wants, you will let him have it, in whatever way he sees fit.

When it is done, when the foreignness is no longer mysterious, when you make the allure of whatever it is dissipate; then it will be easier to make him see that this was not ordained by the Gods, not his and definitely not yours.

You thank the warrior that leads you to the quarters with a nod and a silent smile, wondering in the back of your mind when or how these men got directions that you are to be allowed in the King’s chambers when he hasn’t called for you.

It surprises you that he hasn’t yet gone to sleep, makes you wonder what he has entertained himself with. A foolish thought of it being a someone that entertains the King at night makes you clench your jaw.

Still, you stand in wait, letting curious eyes wander over the spacious room. When the uneven steps reach your ears, followed by the fainter footsteps of two slaves, you straighten your back and face the doorway.

King Ivar’s eyes widen when he finds you in the room, quickly moving over your form in the red dress before he dismisses the slaves with a gesture of his hand.

You keep your eyes on his, but there has never been a time you have shown less in your gaze. He sits down, discarding the crutch at his side, and you walk closer even though your legs shake and your hands tremble.

Playing games kept you from your freedom, but…playing games may keep you from chains this time.

You’d prefer iron shackles on your wrists and ankles for a thousand years if it meant not having to be an unwilling wife before Gods that, although you don’t worship, you respect and believe in.

Your steps falter, and your heart remembers the consequences of the last time you lied in exchange for freedom. The words in your head are promises that this is no different from Narses, even if Narses was kind, and sane, and you cared for him.

What men like Ivar the Boneless need you to be, you become.

You reach up, keeping your eyes on his, and let the dress drop down to the floor, leaving you bare to hungry blue eyes that immediately trace over your body.

His lips part before he speaks, and he seems to stammer for a moment before he asks, “W-What are you…?”

“I know you want me,” You offer, a little entranced by the desire, the fear, the struggle for control that you see written all over his face; taking a small step forward before you realize it. You shake yourself off your stupor, standing straighter. With what feels like your last breath before a defeated descent to Hades, you whisper, “You don’t have to make me your wife, whatever you want you can get without marrying me.”

Any wonder, any trace of desire and boyish vulnerability you could see written all over his face, shining in his hungry eyes; it all disappears with your words.

His expression hardens and his nose furrows on a snarl, his voice gravelly and almost disgusted as he motions dismissively towards you.

“Get dressed.”

You startle, and resist the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

“W-What?”

“I said get dressed. I do not want your pity.”

Your brow furrows along with your nose, and although with trembling hands you grab onto the linen and cover yourself, you still grit out,

“It’s not pity. It’s…desperation.”

“Desperation?”

“I cannot be bound to you, I cannot be made into your wife.” You try, and the pleading tone of your voice makes disgust at yourself churn at your insides.

“Are you ashamed you will have to be the wife to a cripple, hm? Disgusted?” He taunts, the flip of a coin and back into the cruel rage you have faced before, although with a different, more raw edge to it as he presses, “Is that it?”

And as before, the glimpse of something real, the victory of drawing something human out of the monster that bears the crown makes your own back straighten, your own voice turn into steel.

“That you think your legs are the reason I would have for not wanting to be your wife, King Ivar, tells me all I need to know about you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spits out, and even as his raised voice puts you on edge, you still run your hands through your hair as you start placing, “Do not walk away from me!”

You turn back to him with wide eyes and quickened breath. But it is not fear, it’s rage. For a moment when your eyes meet you want to dare him to make you fear him, but the arrogance beats the desire to prove your foolish heart wrong, and you spit out,

“You have had me chained and humiliated; you have forced me to become something I do not want to!” Your nose furrows and your eyebrows crease, but your voice lowers and you settle the fury in your voice as you answer his question, “And you thinking me being against all this charade has anything to do with your legs makes me realize in your mind all of this,” You gesture around you, “is somehow alright.”

His nose furrows, his lip curls in a snarl before he argues, “It is Fate!”

“Why!? Because you say so!?” You shake your head, “Impressive a man as you may be, you are not yet a Manteion.”

“A what!?”

Of course he doesn’t know, how could he, how could anyone in this cold and foreign place know at all what you mean when you speak in your tongue, to your Gods, about your world.

Letting all the breath leave your lungs, you let yourself fall to the ground, hiding your face in your hands.

“Our worlds are so different, Ivar, how can you think that-…” You sigh, “I do not belong here, I do not belong here with you.”

“Well, you are here.”

You are here with me.

And his arrogance as he says it, his pride, his power, you have known those for a long time, you have seen them in familiar faces and strangers. You have been forced to accept them, accept their rule over you simply because of the way the world is, for too long now.

Your calves grow warmer before the fire, but even if you put your legs above the burning wood it wouldn’t feel as stinging and as burning as the red mark now on your cheek.

The reminder, the thought of it alone, makes your weak hands tremble and your eyes fill with useless tears.

“Tis your pride hurting more than your face, little one.” Sieghild starts, but even if there is the start of a jest in her words, there’s gravity in her voice.

“He had no right to-…”

“He did,” She interrupts. And it is the truth, and it makes you clench your jaw and look away from her green eyes. “You wounded his pride, most men don’t take kindly to that offense.”

You stay silent, because you know. And you know you spoke out of place, you know you acted like a child, wanting things out of your reach. You know you should have lowered your eyes, shut your mouth.

Still…

“Is what he said true?” You ask meekly, feeling the burn of shame at the base of your throat. “That they can…take me?”

“As a prisoner?” The Viking leans back on her bed, a crooked smile on her inked face, “They can try.”

“As a concubine.”

Your mother focuses on you, “You are my daughter, little one. They can force no binds on you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sieghild smiles, with that same smile that speaks of a world of liberties women where you come from could never even fathom.

“You need me to say yes!” You yell before you can stop the words from leaving your lips, and you can only watch with widened eyes and a hand over your treacherous mouth as Ivar the Boneless turns to look at you again, the arrogant ire shining in his clear eyes. You scramble to stand, your eyes wide and hand still somewhat covering your mouth.

“What?”

He heard you. This would be your opportunity to take back your words, to take back your resistance, to accept surrender. You waged war against the very Empire the last time you were asked to surrender, though.

“You need my consent for us to be married, Varangian,” You state instead, the words fast and your breath also. You stand up, hands tightened to fists. A flinch of anger passes over the King’s expression as he presses his lips together, irritated that you are apparently so bent on being free. Yes, truly scandalous of you. You swallow your own irritation down and insist, “I am a free woman, you can’t force me.

He considers you quietly for a moment, and before he has a chance to argue, you remind him,

“You won’t break a promise, so you won’t make me a slave,” Even if your voice shakes, you continue, “I-I know of your ways, of…of your Gods. This wasn’t arranged, and since I’m free you need me to say yes.”

He hears the words you don’t say: And I will say no.

After a moment of stubbornly considering you, the King merely shakes his head.

“You have already been given to me.”

“That Christian has no claims to me, and you know this.” You tell him, speak ing of Stithulf and his useless chains.

“I’m not talking about him,” Ivar says, cold smile on his face as he leans on his crutch and serves a goblet of mead. He lifts the cup to you in offering, but you remain in your spot. With a sigh of both disappointment and irritation, the King gulps down the drink and clarifies, “I’m talking about your mother.”

“My mother is dead.” You say without hesitation, although a pit of fear starts opening at your stomach.

But he shakes his head, lifting a finger from his hold on the cup and pointing to you as he corrects, “I don’t mean the Greek one.”

“You are lying,” Is all you say as you look into Ivar’s eyes, your voice trembling as much as the rest of your body. Your nails dig into your palms but you cannot help it, you cannot tell your body to uncoil, not until you hear the truth. “You are lying to play with my head.”

“How would I know Sieghild Vorsdottir, King Rorik’s wife, famed shieldmaiden from the Danes, is the woman that raised you?” He offers, and with each word the ground under your feet dissolves more and more, “She came to me, told me she gave me your hand. I have witnesses.”

No, no, she would never. All those years, telling you to stand tall, teaching you not to bite your tongue, it cannot all have been for her to ditch you and sell you off to the first king you encounter.

You want to think this rationally, you want to remain calm and look for the truth but…

A part of you that will always be her child, that will always love her like the mother you lost too soon; that part of you leaves you with your hands shaking and your throat clogged with only one word.

Móðir…

“She would never do that, she…” You close your eyes with a deep breath, “If she did such a thing, she told you why.”

“She said she had to, that it was fate.”

“You are lying.” The words are choked, the last grasp of a dying hope.

“Would you stop with that? I am not lying.”

Sieghild’s sad and loving eyes on you, her hand holding your face, “I have asked Freya for help ever since we arrived in Scandinavia. She has answered.”

Frantic questions leave your lips, but in her smile there’s the same resignation you saw when she said goodbye as you readied to face the Byzantines for what was supposed to be your death, “The Seer’s words-…it does not matter anymore.”

“She said-…she knew all this time,” You choke out, wide eyes searching the nothing before you for answers, “Her visions, the Seer’s words, she…she knew.”

There’s a strange moment of hesitation, a breath of uncertainty where you think the Viking is trying to find a way to comfort you.

“Prophecies, visions…it is usually too late to change the result when we realize what the Seer’s words mean.” Is what he finally settles on saying.

Foolish, stubborn tears sting at your eyes, and it is with a shaky hand you reach to hold on tight to your mother’s necklace, despair cursing through your veins.

The Völva offers you a small smile, equally mocking and apologetic, “Run if you want to, fight, kick, scream. Fate will drag you home by the wrists, child. You know how this tale goes. The chariot’s pace will tear the world asunder as darkness goes looking for you.”

Your eyes trace over the skyline, almost frantically searching for an answer you know you will not find there.

“This…this place,” You look over the sea, feeling your chest tighten. “This was Ragnar’s pride. Sieghild’s tales…this is Queen Aslaug’s home. The empty throne.”

“You are not making any sense.”

“I was supposed to come here, before I even returned to Greece. I was-…Sieghild, she knew we were to return to her homeland, to that place ruled by a witch from the Danes.

You turn to him with wide eyes, a manic laugh bubbling up in your chest at the realization. For once, the King stays silent, watching you raptly.

“She knew it was fate. We ran from it, I ran from it.

It is with wide eyes and parted lips you look at the man before you, now in a new light, now with a new weight over your shoulders and heart.

“I have no choice,” The revelation is stealing the air from your lips, but with cracked tones you whisper, “I am…I am to be here. It is fate I become your wife.”

Fate. You never thought a word that once brought you so much comfort would make you feel so devastated.

“I will not be a bad husband for you,” He promises after a moment of silence, voice as uncertain as his eyes searching yours, “You will want for nothing, you will be respected by our people, I...I will take care of you.

You nod, but stay silent as the weight of it all settles upon you. You don’t know what is expected out of you now, what fight can you conjure up, what you can try -and see fail, again- to try and escape these…these invisible shackles.

There’s a moment of quiet, and the man moves in his seat, settling back in place with a posture that in anything other than a monster would make you think he’s sheepish, awkward.

His voice is low, almost hesitant as he offers, “You can ask for anything you want.”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, “I do not ask for things I do not deserve, my King.”

Maybe it is time you stop asking for freedom.

____

Kay so Ivar’s words at the end are inspired on Hades’ speech to Persephone in the Homeric Hymns: “(…) feel kindly in your heart towards me: be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore."

Anyhow, I would love to hear what you think of this chapter and of where the story has led. I hope I haven’t dissapointed you, honestly.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you next Tuesday!! Love you all :)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

130 notes · View notes

trevardes · 4 years ago

Text

sail anywhere

Spoilers for Critical Role C2 EP141!

Fic: Sail anywhere Words: 1807 Summary: It hurts a little when they say Kingsley’s name. Rating: T Warnings: none Also on AO3 here.

It hurts to be born.

He thinks this must be true for all living things, but most of them don’t remember the moment. He does; he remembers it all. The smell of flesh and decay around him, and the astonished, painfully hopeful faces of eight strangers gathered in a circle around him.

Later, he’ll hurt for not remembering the lives they tell him he used to have, but in the moment he’s consumed by physical agony from his wounds and the heart-wrenching feeling of emptiness, of lacking something crucial. He’s nearly broken, only partially fixed both inside and out, and he wants to scream but only manages a whimper.

“Mollymauk?” the big one with the white hair and the tears slipping down her face asks, and it hurts to say no.

The grove heals him slowly like it heals the others, and he learns to walk and talk and not fear them. They have it in them to fight and injure, he knows, though he wasn’t present for the fight with the other wizards. Some of these people are clearly disappointed that he’s different from what they expected, but none of them seem inclined to take it out on him. Instead, they bring him food and blankets and awkward smiles, doing their best to support him as he takes his first steps in the world, sees his first sunset, his first sunrise, his first rainstorm.

It hurt to be born, new and wrecked and fumbling, shoved into a broken body, and it hurts to heal. It hurts to sit still as his muscles and skin slowly come back together, adding new scars to the old, distorting some of the tattoos on his skin. Empty spots amid them seem to stare at him, though the others tell him the eyes that used to be there are now gone forever.

Nicodranas bustles with energy and life, and it’s there that he finalizes the decision to call himself Kingsley. It’s not quite right, but more so than Mollymauk or Lucien would be. It’s something he thinks he could grow to be, with time, with some care and some time to find out who he’ll end up becoming.

“Kingsley”, Yasha says softly as he’s preparing to make the trip to Fjord’s ship. She turns the name around in her mouth with care, and the sadness of her smile hurts him - it hurts, it hurts - but it also feels good. Like perhaps he can have this, perhaps he can try something on his own. He wants to be Kingsley - not because he cannot be Mollymauk, but because he doesn’t yet know who he can be, and burns with the need to find out.

“Love”, he says back, just to see her lips quirk into a sweet smile, even as her heart breaks a little in her eyes. “Yasha”, he continues, matching her soft tone. He isn’t the man who was important to her, who experienced so much with her, but she’s already important to him, somehow. “This isn’t a goodbye.”

“I know”, Yasha says and reaches out carefully, taking his slender hand in her own, the size of it dwarfing him and the warmth making his heart hurt.

“I’m going to go with Beau, to find Zuala’s grave. My wife’s grave.” There’s a deep sadness in her, but it gives way to a fierce joy every time she sees Beauregard or mentions her. That whole situation is a big can of worms Kingsley doesn’t know he wants to dip into just yet, so he doesn’t ask.

“And after?” he asks instead, as if that’s any easier a question. She has an answer prepared, however, and she tells him in hushed tones.

“Beau will continue as an expositor, and I’m so proud. She’s perfect for it. The thing is… I don’t know what I’m perfect for yet, except that I want to be for her”, Yasha says. “So at least for a while, I’ll just go where she goes, see how I like a quieter life. Maybe we’ll settle down somewhere.”

She wants to rest and to find herself through finding peace. Kingsley gets that, but he knows that’ll never work for him.

“Send word once you know where you’ll be. I’ll come visit”, he promises. “At some point - not yet though, and not for a while, I think - I’d like to hear about Molly from you.”

Yasha squeezes his hand and gifts him a smile that makes him see how she can so easily turn a difficult person like Beau into sappy mush.

“I would love that”, Yasha whispers, and though it hurts, Kingsley thinks he understands Beau, thinks he understands why Mollymauk would decide Yasha’s card had to be Love.

Kingsley loves the sea, and he thinks it might love him back. Most things in the world are large and new and painful, and the sea is that as well, but it still feels like home. Every place it takes him offers something new to experience, something new to be.

Fjord and Jester and the rest of the crew at his back, Kingsley stands at the prow of the ship, squinting in the sunlight reflecting off of perfect turquoise water. Seagulls fly overhead, calling to each other, and the wind pushes the ship hard as it splits the roiling surface like a knife. The water goes on forever, disappearing behind the horizon, and Kingsley smiles. His hands grip the railing and he leans forward, tail flipping behind him in excitement, his black coat billowing in the wind. There are other ports to see where he’s going, people to meet, treasure to find and to take, and this right here is something he thinks he can learn to be. This him who feels sea spray and sun gentle on his skin, this him whose newly short hair whips in the strong wind and whose chest is filled with - yes, hurt, still, but also wonder and joy and sweet longing for the unknown.

“Do you think you’ll ever remember any of… any of Molly’s memories?” Fjord asks one night after a long card game and half a bottle of rum they’ve split between them. It’s just the two of them in the captain’s cabin, Jester having left earlier to spend some time listening to Orly’s stories from his youth.

Kingsley tilts his head, considering. He takes his time, secretly enjoying the way Fjord shifts uncomfortably as he waits for the answer. Kingsley suspects the man wouldn’t have taken this up if it wasn’t for the alcohol; it’s a difficult subject and Kingsley may have been a bit harsh in the way he’s tried to make them believe he isn’t Mollymauk and never will be.

“I’m not sure”, he finally says. “I haven’t so far, so I think it’s unlikely, but who knows?”

Fjord nods gravely. “Caduceus told me he asked the Wildmother to put Molly’s soul back, and that she did, but I suppose it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Kingsley toasts to that with the last dregs of the rum. “Maybe our soul is the same, but I’m still… well. I don’t know, but I’m not him.”

“That’s alright”, Fjord says, and from anyone else it might sound like an empty platitude, but not from Fjord. His tusks are digging into his lip nervously and his eyes flicking up to meet Kingsley’s and back down again. “You’re good, whether you remember or not. We have all that history with Molly, but those memories aren’t going anywhere, even if you find your own path. We have a future with you in it now, and that’s worth it.”

“Oh, Captain, I do so love it when you talk to me so sweetly”, Kingsley grins, and only laughs harder as Fjord sputters and covers his face with a hand, flushing.

The rum is gone, but there’s always sweet, sparkling rosé to be had thanks to Veth. Kingsley takes out the flask and takes a swig, offering it to Fjord. He takes it, looking thankful to be able to give his mouth something other to do than talking. Kingsley teases him further just for the hell of it, winking and blowing him an exaggerated kiss. Fjord groans and shoves his shoulder, smiling.

Years pass and the memories never return.

Kingsley is still empty, in a way; he can feel the absence of Mollymauk, of Lucien, but gradually he grows to fill some of that space. He has a hundred adventures with Fjord and Jester, many visits with Yasha and Beau, with Caleb and that elusive drow of his, with Veth’s family and at Caduceus’s beautifully melancholy little temple home.

He visits every major port in Exandria, tastes every drink and learns dirty words in more languages than he can count. He works and steals and charms and <em>lives.</em> He knows many women in many ports, and many men and many others, and is first surprised and then delighted to find that his empty chest can light up with love for any of them, for all of them.

He doesn’t have a home port like Fjord and Jester do, not even after he eventually has his own ship and crew who call him Captain, or when they start operating out of Darktow Isle, and that’s just fine with him.

He does often sail to Nicodranas, not in small part because of an elusive wizard of his own. Caleb would be proud if he knew, Kingsley thinks with a private smirk as he makes his way towards a tall tower to meet a certain handsome elf, already thinking of smooth brown skin on golden yellow sheets, of their quiet, snarking conversations afterwards.

The memories never return, and eventually Kingsley stops wishing that they did, stops dreading the day they might.

He does hurt for the Mighty Nein for losing their friend. He hurts for Mollymauk even as he names his ship after this person he’s taken to referring to as his brother, and he carries a measure of guilt; if Kingsley had never been born, perhaps Mollymauk would have lived. He would’ve reigned glorious over whatever piece of the world he would’ve chosen, and people would have loved him, that much Kingsley knows. He feels like a murderer some days, but on others it’s easier to just vow to make good use of this life he has been given.

Mollymauk would have lived this life to its fullest, and Kingsley has every plan to do the same.

He has his crew at his side and people he calls friends and joys and loves scattered on every shore in Exandria; he has the wind in his hair, the sun bright and sweetly painful in his eyes; he has everything he needs and more.

Kingsley Tealeaf smiles through the small, lingering hurt and sets a course for the horizon.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr #kingsley tealeaf #kingsley #fic #my fic #critical role fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

worldwidemochiguy · 5 years ago

Text

Dancing On My Soul (M)

“Come on, baby, you knew what would happen if you danced with someone else. You wanted it, don’t try to deny.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You wanted me to fuck you right there in front of everyone, show them who you belong to.”

“A-and who is that again?”

➵ Warnings: Possessive! Taehyung, Voyeurism, Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Humiliation, Degradation, Creampie, Unsafe Sex (ALWAYS wrap it before you tap it, kids) (not that any kids should be reading this lol if you’re below 18 then kindly scroll away)

➵ Word Count: 2.3K

➵ Masterlist

➵ a/n: requested by anon! sorry if this is nastier than u expected lol, i have to say this is 87% inspired by the above pic of taehyung at the vanity fair trendsetters thing bc hot damn

Taehyung’s eyes burn as you twist on the dance floor, the undulating gyrations of your hips easy to see beneath your tight dress. The strobing lights of the club catch on the sequins that decorate you like a second skin, giving you an almost angelic glow. But, as Taehyung knows, you are far from pure…

You are teetering on the edge, one false step from falling and, as always, Taehyung is close behind. Perhaps he’ll be the one to shove you off.

You are breathless, panting to the heavy beat of the music that shakes through the very foundations of the club. The pulsating vibrations force their way into your blood stream, pumped around your body as your heart contracts. When you catch Taehyung’s eye, it skips a beat, before leaping into overdrive.

He is splayed out in the otherwise empty VIP lounge, legs wide apart in masculine arrogance. You are sure that if you were to reach in between them, you would find him hard and waiting for you. You knew he would be watching you, just as you knew this would anger him. The result of his anger, however, remains a mystery to you. You bite your lip in anticipation.

Raising your arms above your head freely, you twist around, hoping to taunt Taehyung with a glimpse of the open back of your dress. But, a man you had been previously unaware of is waiting eagerly behind you.

As soon as the two of you are face to face, he grins, his teeth flashing as they catch the light, and loops his arms around your waist, tugging you closer.

“You’re so fucking hot,” The stranger says, barely audible above the noise of the club, and you can practically feel Taehyung’s glare intensify, burning a hole through the man’s hand, now splayed across the base of your spine.

His hand is uncomfortably clammy, and his alcohol-soaked breath fanning across your cheek is not the most pleasant sensation, but the only thing you can feel now is excitement. You had been hoping to rile Taehyung up, to bring out that deeper level of depravity you know is buried within him, and this… this is certain to do exactly that.

Your grin wavers slightly as the stranger’s hands slide down to grip your hips harshly. You had been intending to tease Taehyung but that doesn’t mean you’re willing to allow a stranger to grope you.

You start to shift away from him, donning a falsely apologetic grimace.

“Sorry, I’m taken.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t dance, sweetheart.” The man smirks, attempting to tug you back into him.

Suddenly, a familiar warmth spreads itself across your back. You are pulled backwards until you hit a firm chest behind you, arms securing themselves tightly around your waist.

“You’d better keep your hands to yourself,” A deep voice growls, the reverberations echoing through his chest and into you, traveling right down to your core. “-or I’ll have each individual finger broken. Then, maybe you’ll learn to not touch what is mine.”

You tilt your head to see Taehyung snarl the last word, eyes blazing as he watches the man stumble away into the throng of drunken dancers, writhing to the beat of the music. You know by the look in his eye that Taehyung has already memorised the face, and you suspect the stranger won’t be leaving the club without injury.

The heavy bass pulsing through the building fades away as Taehyung flicks his eyes down to you.

And you see that he is furious.

A hand closes tightly around your wrist, and suddenly you are being dragged along behind Taehyung as he stalks back to the VIP lounge. The few partygoers that had dared to occupy the lounge in Taehyung’s absence quickly vacate the couches and exclusive bar, leaving it empty once again as Taehyung sits down, yanking you onto his lap.

“I thought you were a good girl.” Taehyung hisses in your ear as you squirm along his length, fully hardened and pressing insistently against your upper thighs. “That’s what you told me, right? When I asked if you deserved to go to the club tonight, you said, oh yes, Taehyung, please, I deserve it, I’m your good girl.”

“I- I am muh- I’m a good girl.” You whine as he grips your hips tightly and slots you directly above his cock, grinding you against it.

All that separates the VIP lounge from the packed club is a simple cordon. If it weren’t for the poor lighting, anyone could glance over and watch as you rut against him like a bitch in heat. They might still be able to see, if they look closely enough.

That thought drags a choked moan from your throat, and you feel Taehyung’s hot breath against the shell of your ear as he chuckles derisively.

“Are you a good girl? Really? Even though you’re moaning and panting on my cock right here in front of everyone?”

“Nooo~” You whine pathetically, even as your grinding speeds up.

“I think,” Taehyung murmurs, and you feel his hand slide down the heated skin of your bare back and underneath the tight fabric, coming around to grip the side of your thigh under the dress, “I think that you’re a slut, and you’re desperate to let all of these people watch as you come undone.”

“No!” You protest tearfully, writhing as Taehyung’s hand comes around to cup your sex, only a thin layer of lace separating his fingers from your dripping core. To the average drunken partier, you might just appear to be perched on his lap, but if they look any closer it would be obvious to see Taehyung’s hand working underneath your dress.

The humiliation and powerlessness combine into a heady shot of arousal and you slump against Taehyung’s chest bonelessly as he pushes your panties aside and plunges a finger into you.

Your moan drowns out Taehyung’s smug laugh as he begins to pump his finger into you without mercy.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He mocks you, and you let out an ashamed whimper, “You really like this, don’t you? You like being used in front of everyone, like a good slut.”

You shake your head weakly, even as you obediently spread your legs for him. He adds another finger, and you groan as he begins to scissor the digits, stretching you out roughly.

“I bet you’d let anyone fuck you, huh?” Taehyung growls, and his other hand comes up to squeeze your throat, cutting your airways just enough that dark spots begin to appear around the edge of your vision.

“You’re so desperate for cock, you probably would have bent over in the middle of the club for that bastard and let him pound into your tight little hole. Is that why you’re so wet, huh?”

“No!” You cry as he adds a third finger, pressing insistently on the bundle of nerves inside you.

Tears stream down your face from the overstimulation, ruining the makeup you had spent hours perfecting. “I wouldn’t let anyone elsetouch me! I swear! Just you.”

“Just me?” He repeats sceptically, curling his fingers inside of you making you sob with desperation.

“I promise, I’m yours, only yours.”

“Okay baby,” Taehyung murmurs as his hand recedes from your throat. You gasp, so focused on the sensation of the air flooding back into your lungs that you don’t register Taehyung pulling out of you slowly. You whine as his fingers, glistening with your arousal, come up past your face.

He seals his lips around them, closing his eyes in bliss as he tastes your essence, before drawing them out of his mouth and into your own. You gag slightly as he shoves them down your throat. His lips curl up in smug satisfaction as you swirl your tongue around his digits, coated with both your arousal and his saliva.

“You’re a good girl?” He asks expectantly, and you nod, moaning wantonly around his fingers. You know anyone is free to glance over to the VIP lounge and catch a glimpse of you, dress askew and lips swollen, but you can’t deny the arousal that shoots through you at the thought.

You whine unhappily as Taehyung takes his fingers away, but you are soon distracted by the feel of his mouth pressing hotly against your neck. You whimper as his teeth sink into a bruise he had marked you with a few days ago, and his tongue laves over the wound soon after, as if in apology.

You barely hear the sound of his zipper over the music in the club. But the catchy EDM song playing out of the loudspeakers flies out of your head the moment Taehyung lifts your hips and sinks you down onto his cock.

“Tae, wha- ohhhh,” You moan as his cock stretches you out, and he releases a strained snicker.

“Be quiet, baby girl,” He admonishes you, bouncing you slightly on his cock, causing you to hiccup on another moan, “They’ll hear you, and then they’ll all know what a slut you are.”

You gaze helplessly out at the crowd of dancers, ignorant as Taehyung yanks you down on his cock again and again. If anyone simply looks over at the two of you, they’ll know.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, listening to his rough grunts as he pounds into you, biting your lip to hold back your own noises.

“So… fucking…tight.” Taehyung growls, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. On the last word, the forehead of his cock presses against your bundle of nerves again and you let out a high-pitched whine.

Taehyung’s hips still for a second, before he adjusts his angle and starts pounding into you with renewed energy. Each thrust batters that spot within you and soon you cannot control the steady string of moans that pour out of your mouth.

“Just can’t keep quiet, can you?” Taehyung pants, still managing to sound smug even as his balls slap against your thighs obscenely, “You love cock so much, don’t you? You’re desperate for it.”

“Taehyung,” You wail, breath hitching as he leans in to suck another bruise on your neck. God, as soon as you leave the club everyone on the street will be able to tell that you were just fucked. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what, slut?”

“I need to come.”

You grip one of his wrists, trying weakly to tug it to the front of your dress.

“You want to come? In front of all these people?”

“Yes.” You gasp as he thrusts particularly hard.

Instead of sneaking around the back of your dress like before, Taehyung simply reaches underneath the front. As his fingers move up to toy with your clit, the hemline is dragged upwards so that anyone who looks can clearly see Taehyung’s cock pounding into you at a brutal pace.

He barely needs to touch you before you’re shattering around him with a piercing cry that conveniently coincides with a bass drop by the DJ. You continue to moan mindlessly as he rides through your orgasm, bucking into you with a few sporadic thrusts before you feel his come spill into you.

You simply sit on his softening cock for a few moments, both of you exhausted after the intense orgasm, before Taehyung pulls you off him, replacing your panties which he had shoved to the side so that his come does not leak out of you.

You wonder at how he is seemingly unaffected, neatly tucking himself back into his pants before rising to his feet. He pulls you up with him, placing a quick peck on your forehead to comfort you as you whine from the soreness, his hands darting around to fix your dress and your mussed hair. You know you must look like sex on legs, and the way he smirks at you pretty much confirms it.

Your mind is so dazed, you don’t protest as Taehyung leads you through the club and to the exit. You feel the gaze of several people resting on your runny mascara, shaky legs and bruised neck as you pass. The shame on your cheeks burns almost as hot as Taehyung’s come, which has started to trickle down the inside of your thigh.

Soon, you are in the car Taehyung had waiting for the two of you, and his nose buries itself in your neck as the driver wordlessly rolls up the partition.

“You smell like me.” He remarks in satisfaction, and you laugh weakly.

“I smell like sex.”

“Hm, I wonder why that is.” He replies cheekily, and you unfortunately don’t have the energy to shove him away.

“I hate you.” You moan halfheartedly, and he grins, dragging a protesting you onto his lap once more.

“I’ll leak come on you.” You threaten, before moaning as he grinds his thigh against your over-sensitive core. You feel slightly bad for the driver. That partition is definitely not soundproof.

“Come on, baby, you knew what would happen if you danced with someone else. You wanted it, don’t try to deny.”

“I didn’t.” You deny anyway, squirming as his lips curve into a smile against your marked neck.

“Yes you did. You wanted me to fuck you right there in front of everyone, show them who you belong to.”

“A-and who is that again?” You pant. Taehyung’s hands fit over the bruises his fingerprints dug into your hips, squeezing slightly. The sharp sensation of pain makes you moan.

“Do you need a reminder, baby?”

His cock twitches beneath you, and you grin.

“I think I do.”

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts self insert #bts smut #taehyung smut #Yandere bts #Yandere taehyung #taehyung self insert #Yandere bts x reader #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung

465 notes · View notes

sarabat85 · 4 years ago

Text

@lost-soul-lose-mind drew a picture that sparked a short story in me:

Jason Voorhees/Female Reader NSFW

Warnings: death of campers, blood, masturbating, oral, orgasm

After cleaning up the bodies from the most recent campers encounter, Jason groggily dragged his feet to the cabin where his angel is busily cooking dinner. She came to him over a year ago. She is not like the other trespassers, she doesn’t leave a single footprint, always cleaning up after other people’s messes- singing as she does. He first noticed her scolding other campers littering all over the campsite, “What would your mothers say?!? Clean up after yourselves!” His heart melted when he heard those words. She would not be under his machete. The other campers quickly did, she comes back from a dip in the lake to him slicing his blade through the last campers neck. Her first words to him, “Jason.... would you like something to eat after all that work?” Breathing hard, he nods and follows behind her to her campsite.

Now that they live together, she has turned the place into a modest cabin. Hand sewn curtains and tablecloths, refurbished table and chairs from the unusable cabins within Camp Crystal Lakes boundaries. She only goes into town for bare essentials and seeds for the hand grown garden on the side. The only cabin with non-broken windows forced their hand on location, but Jason has loved the little shrine she made for his mother. She goes out of her way to take care of him. So being the closest cabin by the lake has been bearable, mostly. Jason puts his bloody boots by the door, careful not to drip blood all over the rug he heads to the washroom right off the kitchen. She calls to him, “Jason honey, I have dinner on the wood burning stove, I appreciate the deer you caught last week. We are going to have Back Strap Stew with the potatoes and carrots I picked from the garden! Oh I am so glad you found that water hose last week! You have been so good to me, clean up! We will have dinner and I want to give you something special afterwards. She starts to hum a song that Jason has identified as her “happy tune” and he is instantly put at ease- she really keeps everything in order and stability, it eases his burden over watching the camp for trespassers, real downtime, even.... relaxing. She is truly an angel sent from his mother.

Dinner was fantastic! Jason could taste every vegetable in a blast of flavor, the meat was so tender. He could tell she worked hard on preparing the meal and he had seconds just to encourage her that he loved it. She started teaching him sign language, and she had a sixth sense to him so it seemed like they talked for hours. She puts her hands on Jason’s large shoulders and starts to knead the knots away, “You have been such a good boy, Jason. Oh, honey! You feel tenser than usual, let me try something new that I know will make you feel good. Please?” He trusts his angel, and he notices his body reacting to her touch. She explained what sex was a few months ago when he walked in on her masturbating, frozen to the spot as she clenched her thighs together with Jason’s name on her lips. He did not know what to think of it when his body tingled. Now- recognizing it as arousal, he sat back and watched his angel come around the chair and settle between his legs. She cautiously hums her “happy tune” putting him at ease as she lifts up his shirt and fondles his chest. She runs her fingertips over his nipples as they turn to peaks. “So good, honey....” she rubs and squeezes his large chest a few more times before trailing her hands down his stomach to his belly button. She kisses his navel and grabs the button of his jeans and unclasps through the eyelet. Zips his zipper down to free his erection from the confines of those pants. Jason is panting above her, unsure what to do. “Breathe, my love. Deep breath in and out, slowly. That’s my good boy” She grabs his erection and starts to pump slowly. Feeling the warm skin and stiff rod under her palm, her mouth begins to water. She looks up at him and takes a tentative lick. Jason’s hips come off the chair! She hears a grunt, a moan, and a whimper- meaning he had no clue he could feel that way, it felt good, don’t stop. He grips the arms of the chair and it creaks beneath him. Wow! She starts to lick up and down his shaft and he feels her soft wet tongue slide everywhere. The head of his cock is so sensitive she gets a special exhale out of him every time. She finally closes her lips around his head and starts to suck. Jason cannot control himself, he is breaking the arms of the chair squeezing so tight. Tight. Like her wet mouth around his huge cock. She is bobbing up and down and he is feeling something building. She knows he won’t last long, so she focuses on the feel of every vein on her tongue. The swelling of his head, and the huge release as hot salty cum spurts into her mouth. “Mmmm.... mmhmm” and she swallows his seed. He huffs another large exhale with that amazing release, slumping like jelly into the chair. She sees how relaxed her Jason is and tucks his half erect penis back into his pants. She climbs up into his arms and rests her head on his chest and breathes him in deeply. “Oh my good boy, how do you feel honey? Wasn’t that lovely?” He wraps his arms around her and they cuddle as he looks at her. Yes. Lovely.

#thicc boy #jason voorhees #can he be my boyfriend?#slashers #horror #friday the 13th #ns/fw tags are banned so we're calling them lemons from now on kids #lemon

18 notes · View notes

agreateryesterday · 4 years ago

Text

Stucky - ABO

Bottom!Steve

Inside the Lines

Settling in the Lines

Little Bumps in the Lines

A Little Outside the Lines

Way Outside Those Lines

Picking a New Color

Back Inside the Lines

Bold, Wiggly Lines

Scribbles and Broken Crayons

Somersaults and IV Lines

Broken Noses and Coloring Lines

Family Ties and Signature Lines

The Lines are Closer Than Ever

Past Lines and Future Loves

Little Wonders by Avengers_Whore

“You’d look amazing with a pup on yer hip,” he murmured, startling Steve. The blond sat up slightly and looked at him, brow furrowed. “Buck, you know I can’t-” “Yeah, yeah, Stevie, I know, but we can adopt! Just like Sam and Rhodey did with Wanda,” the alpha told him, smiling wide as he looked up at his mate. He was feeling giddy just at the thought of having a pup in their home. “Plenty of kids out there who would love to be part of our family.”

“Waffles, p’ease,” Tony murmured, laying his head on the omega’s shoulder. Steve smiled and nodded his head, carrying the little omega into the kitchen. He settled the pup onto the table and poked his nose gently, enticing a soft giggle from the boy. “Steeb, can we have choc’late chips?”“Of course honey,” the blond man said, gently tickling the boy’s side.

“Poor kid just fell down and seized right there in the exam room, totally scared the shit out of me.” Steve bolted upright, his eyes wide with panic. Tony whimpered at the sudden movement and curled into Bucky more, his little face scrunched up. The alpha tightened his hold on him and gave his omega a look.

“I wish you could be my brother, then you could stay forever,” the young pup murmured, moving around the table to hug onto Harley. The blond teen looked down at the boy with wide eyes before wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight.

“Stay away from my pup,” Bucky snarled softly, placing himself protectively between Howard and the small group of three still clinging to each other. “So you’re the one who took on my greatest failure,” the other alpha commented with a sneer. Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he got even closer into the older man’s face. “Walk away before you say something that gets you seriously hurt,” the brunet growled.

“Edward.” A shake of the head. “Benjamin.” Another shake. “Joseph.” “You’re not even trying,” Tony accused, crossing his arms over his chest. “Benjamin’s nice though. That can be his middle name.” “Oh well since you’ve already decided."

“Why do we even try to keep up with you people?” Sam grouched as he helped Steve put away everything in the kitchen. The beta was putting the glasses away in a cupboard, careful as he unpacked them from the box one by one. “Three kids and a house, I’ll never catch up.” “I don’t think it’s a competition, Sam,” Steve told him with a smile.

“You act like you’re not going to be supervised by an adult,” Harley said, cuffing the younger’s ear and smirking when the omega yelped. Since Tony was incredibly young to be in college, they’d put him in Harley’s apartment. The alpha would be able to watch out for him and since they were actually siblings, he wouldn’t be bothered by Tony going into heat. “Why do you have to crush my dreams like that?”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky asked, a growl lacing his words. “Oh stop. His name is Ty and he’s a very nice, charming alpha. Just wanted you to know before you got a whiff of him and got all rutty,” the omega told him. “Do not embarrass Tony.”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky asked, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. The brunet alpha was immediately up in Loki’s personal space, trying to intimidate and size him up all at once.

“Boyfriend, hm? A good one this time hopefully?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “The best. Harley-approved and all,” Tony told him, biting his bottom lip as he watched Loki and his father.

He looked up and came face-to-face with icy-blue eyes. The alpha had a white coat on, meaning he was a doctor.

“I-I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Tony stuttered, his face turning red the longer he looked at this alpha. The man smiled slightly and handed over some of the books before helping the omega up. “Not a problem, I was too busy looking at my phone,” the doctor told him. “Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“You have my blessing.” “Stevie!” Bucky protested. “Oh hush. You always get like this, Wade’s not even allowed in our house because you think he’s going to molest Peter,” the blond scolded his mate, swatting at the alpha. “What?” Peter asked, his voice cracking from the shock.

“You’re pregnant?” Steve exclaimed, immediately off of the couch and running over to hug the three of them excitedly. “I’m gonna be a grandma!” “Well, yes and no,” Loki said with a chuckle. “Anthony isn’t pregnant.” “Then what do you mean?” Peter asked, his brow furrowing. “Riri, you can come out now, darling,” Stephen called. Everyone watched with wide eyes as the little alpha girl came out of the kitchen, running over and hiding behind Tony’s legs.

“Honey! Babe, I’m home,” Steve called as he entered the apartment, tossing his keys onto the table by the door. He closed his door with his foot and carried the grocery bags into the kitchen. “Brock?” “Yeah, Steve, I’m comin’. I was in the bathroom,” Brock answered as he came around the corner. The omega giggled as he started pulling everything out of the bags to start putting away. He purred when arms wrapped around him from behind.

“You- You hit me!” Peter exclaimed. “You never hit me!” “I didn’t mean to! You wouldn’t get off’a me!” “‘Cause you won’t talk to me! Wade, I’m your best friend, why won’t you talk to me?” Wade growled in frustration and pulled his hood further down over his face when he caught Peter trying to look at him. He smelled of angry, anxious alpha over his unique taco and iron smell.

I'm not making any promises. by Ohlookitsabi, Stucky_Barnes

(Last updated Sep 7, 2018) 3 chapters

steve and Bucky are together, They are happily inlove... but what happens when SOMEONE tries to get in their way? (this is my first fic so I'm sorry in advance)

Popping by himawri45 (kotaka_kun)

*Finished* 2 chapters

Steve and Bucky are expecting (again, or it could be their first), and Steve hasn’t taken the changes to his body so well and with each new change, he grows more self-conscious and embarrassed of his new appearance. The latest change, he noticed one morning, is that his belly button has popped. This makes him super embarrassed not only because of how apparent it looks, but it also is very sensitive and to make matters worse, he gets razzed about it by Bucky, their kids and/or his friends.

Splintered Beginnings by angel_with_a_nuclear_bomb

*Finished* 3 chapters

HYDRA gave up on human experimentation after their 500th subject failed. They theorized that if they changed the original form to something more substantial, the project could survive. Their first subject was immensely successful, vicious yet obedient. Their second subject.... That's a little bit of a different story. But what happens when the Avengers intercept their first subject, and HYDRA's house of cards slowly begins to to fall? *STARRING* Bucky as a chunky wolf Steeb as a tiny wolf and Bucky as a traumatized human Steeb as an even more traumatized human

It's been a long day without you, my friend by AyeeItsJaee

(Last updated Nov 24, 2019) 1 chapter

Packs are the most important thing to Steve. Ever since he was a child he believed he would form a pack with Bucky. And then the war and the serum happened. the two hardly got to even speak. Bucky fell off of the train and Steve crashed in the ice, he thought he was dead. He sometimes wished they never found him. He didn't have his Alpha. Everything changed when hydra attacked Nick Fury and Steve found him again. Bucky was alive. He was alive and taking care of a fourteen year old while is aunt was in the hospital.

Date Night by himawri45 (kotaka_kun)

*Finished* One Shot

“You feeling okay?” “I’m fine,” Steve assured him, “Just Braxton Hicks.” Bucky looked surprised at that. “I’ve been having them off and on all day, it’s no big deal.” “Is it bad?” he pressed. “We can go home if you’re not comfortable, y’know.” “I’m fine, Buck.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Really, it’s okay. Just means my body’s getting ready and all. It’s nothing to be worried about.” Bucky looked unsure but dropped it once Steve began looking over the menu. Steve was glad for it - he didn’t want Bucky to have to spend their night together worrying himself over Steve. Steve could take care of himself.

The Same Star by Annaelle, dolarhyding, Juulna

*Finished* 6 chapters

The year is 2117—nearly 100 years after the Third World War and 50 years after the discovery of the Alpha-Omega gene mutation—and the United Research Space Agency has landed its first manned mission on the recently discovered tenth planet, named Gaia. On this planet, there are now seven souls—that they know of—led by URSA’s finest, most driven Captain; an Omega named Steve Rogers and his loyal Alpha, Bucky Barnes. The mission—a dream mission, a mission the entire population of Earth follows with bated breath—will soon become a nightmare for all involved. The mission is hastily aborted when a freak storm of unimaginable proportions hits suddenly, forcing the team to leave the surface of the planet—all but one. Bucky Barnes is left behind, assumed dead by all, even his grief-stricken Omega. The vast distance between them increases every minute, and it might be more than he—and his mate—are capable of handling. With such distance, it is only a matter of time before Separation Sickness takes them and makes them lose control—the one thing Steve, leader of the Gaia Exploration Crew, cannot afford to lose.

Remember Dreams by Stuckylover4ever

(Last updated July 22, 2020) 11 chapters

In a world where Beta rules the world, Alpha's and Omega's are trying to survive. Going to a college would be hard enough for Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Peter Parker if they weren't dealing with being Omegas in a world where Omega's aren't allowed much. Each one of them is dealing with a pregnancy on top of Steve's health issues. As much as Tony Stark loved his daughter, he didn't want to be a stay at home dad. While he didn't mind it, Tony wanted to have a good education as well. Beta's are known to be given everything while being allowed to do what they want. Alpha's, on the other hand, are required to go to college, get a good job, then settle down. Omegas are only allowed to have families. Going to college isn't allowed for them, and if they do go, then they are looked down upon. Follow them as they learn to love, dream, and change the world. Each one of them has a story to tell, and they want to tell it. Life is hard, but when you are told what you are supposed to do, then life get's harder.

honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch by moonythejedi394, raynaki

*Finished* 17 chapters

Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA. Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further. Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

Fairy Tales Are Lies We're Told So That We Keep Dreaming by Fallen_Ash

(Last updated June 20, 2019) 5 chapters

This is a story about a group of friends, who came together in the most unlikely of situations, to battle for what they believe is right.

So the Story Says by monsterradio

*Finished* One Shot

A prophecy once said that a warrior with scales for skin and fire for breath would tie with a prince of a kingdom so vast it spanned half the land. Alpha King of Dragons, James, thought it was just a story whispered around a fire until a crow came from the kingdom of Shield, hailing the coming of age of their Omega heir.

What the Doctor Ordered

Conflict of Interest

In Equal Measure

Be Your Alpha if You Wanted

Coming to Terms at the Turn (of the decade) by sarahyellow

*Finished* One Shot(s), 4 chapters

Steve is a sickly adult omega who lives under the custody of the state in the 1940's. He's always insisted on riding out his heats alone but after the disaster that was his last cycle he is forced to choose: pair with one of OmegaHouse's support alphas, or undergo a therapeutic procedure to fulfill his heat.

Much to Steve Roger's chagrin, a handsome new alpha is assigned to his hall at the Brooklyn Heights OmegaHouse.

Things in the House haven't changed too much in the past year and a half. Well... some things have. Steve's turned eighteen now, he's started courses at the community college. Alexander Pierce has been elected the 33rd president of the United States. Oh, and James/Bucky? He's Steve's hall alpha and he's kind of growing on him. Until he isn't.

Another look into the lives of Steve Rogers and James (Bucky) Barnes at the Brooklyn Heights OmegaHouse. Steve and Bucky are still diametrically opposed.

Things've been confusing between them ever since his heat. Bucky had given Steve what he’d needed, and Steve’s been feeling indebted to him ever since. He’s got newfound respect for Bucky. And… maybe something else. He hasn’t put a name to it yet, has been too afraid to. But it’s been plaguing his thoughts. According to House rules it’s probably inappropriate, but neither one of them knows what to do about it.

Post: Part 4

#stucky #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #omega!steve #omega!steve rogers #alpha!bucky barnes #abo #alpha/beta/omega #marvel #bottom!steve #bottom!steve rogers #top!bucky barnes #top!bucky

78 notes · View notes

spell-cleaver · 4 years ago

Note

Luke let out a relieved breath as Vader burst through the door.

Previous parts on the masterpost here!

Luke let out a relieved breath as Vader burst through the door.

It was a nightmare. Another one. His eyes flew open and latched onto his father the moment they did, his gaze beseeching, already pushing back the covers and grasping for Anakin the nerf, for his other toys, one hand out for Vader—

Vader was next to him in a heartbeat. “Luke?”

“He’s still there,” Luke sobbed. He took several deep, rasping breaths, holding his toys very, very tightly, and tried to banish everything. He could sense cold, but that was his father; that was not Palpatine. The darkness that pressed in around him was familiar, but it would not hurt him, it would not hurt him—

He took another heaving breath. “I hate it.”

“I know, my son.” Vader knelt beside him, and clasped Luke’s hand between both of his; within his massive durasteel palms, Luke’s tiny hand hung limp and pale. Vader squeezed it with fingers that had crushed the throats and hearts and souls of a thousand men, his gentleness painstaking. “You…”

Luke frowned, leaning in; Vader seemed conflicted about something, seemed ready to speak… but speak he did not. So Luke closed his eyes again.

“I hate this planet,” he whispered. “I’ve always hated it. I hate this palace—even the quarters you made for me, and I know they’re lovely, I know you made them because you love me, Father, but they are here, and they are— they—”

“Luke.”

“My friends are leaving,” Luke burst out. He hadn’t realised how much the idea that they were leaving had upset him; not because he didn’t think they deserved to be happy, not because he wanted them to stay, not because he feared they would forget about him while they were gone.

But because he was realising:

If the people he loved left… what was there for him here?

There was Nova, and Vader, and Ahsoka… but they were older than him, they were other, and—

“I know, Luke, I—”

“Palpatine is gone, and he was wrong about so many things, but he was right in that I cannot rule this Empire. Not well.”

“You could, you are smart enough—”

“Not because I’m not enough,” Luke said. “Because I can’t give enough. Because I don’t want to.”

Vader paused.

Luke gripped his hand. “Father,” he begged. “I want to go. Somewhere. I do not want to be Emperor anymore. I do not want to stay here. I do not want to lead the Empire that Palpatine used to cause so much suffering.”

Vader hesitated, for a moment. There is no one better to rule than you, he wanted to say; it was still something he believed wholeheartedly. Padmé and Luke deserved the world.

But his conversation with Sabé rang in his ears.

Make a better galaxy for Luke to live in.

All those years ago, he had not wanted to give Padmé the Empire because she craved power, or even just because she was the best person for the job. He had done it because he trusted no one else to create a galaxy where their family could be happy—a galaxy for the two of them, and the precious, precious son nestled below her heart.

What was the point, if forcing that son to carry on his mother’s role would only cause him suffering?

Sabé would do what Padmé would have done. He knew that. He trusted her.

And…

And he trusted that she loved his son just as much as he did.

“Father,” Luke said again, more fiercely this time: “I will not lead Palpatine’s Empire. I refuse to.”

There was silence for a long, long moment.

“Little angel,” Vader said finally. Luke blinked up at him. “I… I have something to tell you.”

Luke’s mouth puckered into a frown, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“I was speaking to Sabé, this afternoon. After… about your nightmare from last night, as well. She…”

He trailed off again. Luke frowned, his own tears and fears forgotten momentarily as he reached out to Vader—and sensed pain.

He flinched back.

Pain.

Resolve.

Love, boundless and pure.

“The school your friends will be going to is in Theed,” Vader continued. “And Sabé has informed me that— that your mother’s relatives, the Naberries, would very much like to meet you. For… for you to stay with them.”

Luke gaped at him.

“For how long?” he asked suspiciously. He— he wanted to leap for joy, he wanted to crawl out of bed and hug his father, he wanted to beam brighter than Coruscant Prime. But he could sense his father’s misery, and he did not want to hurt him.

“Sabé contacted them this evening,” Vader said. “They are willing to house you… permanently.” The word stuck in his vocoder as if in protest.

But when it escaped, it struck Luke in the chest like a gong.

Permanently.

“I would move there?” he asked. He tried, he really tried, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, then. To visit Naboo… to visit Theed, properly, without diplomatic obligations… to visit his family…

He had been happier in those few weeks on Naboo than he ever had in his entire life.

Vader nodded. “You would,” he said.

Luke did crawl out of bed, then; he didn’t feel like he could properly grasp the situation when he was about to fall asleep again. He perched on his knees on top of the covers, frowning fiercely at Vader, and was amused by the confusion Vader felt at the frown.

“I can’t be Emperor from Naboo,” he pointed out shrewdly. “I can’t mingle with court and be diplomatic and make major decisions. If you still want me to rule—”

“I do still want you to rule, little angel. But I want you to be happy. As it becomes increasingly clear that they are mutually exclusive, I know which one I value more.”

Luke looked at him like he’d never looked at him before.

“You’ll rule in my stead?” he asked, trying not to show his scepticism and dislike of that idea. Vader… was Vader.

“Sabé will, have no fear.” Vader sounded more amused at the insult than offended. “She will be your Regent.”

“Regent? Am I expected to return one day?”

Vader said, “Spend some time on Naboo before you officially make your decision, Majesty. I… if you wish to abdicate altogether, no one will stop you—”

“I wish to abdicate altogether.”

“—but you must understand that you cannot return once you have abdicated. So all I ask is that you spend your time on Naboo thinking it over, and decide from there—I do not want you to make a choice without knowing exactly what choice you are making. I… Sabé and I have agreed that I will visit you in a year to hear your decision. If you wish to return, you can; if not… alternative methods of government can be arranged, whether you wish to be involved or not.”

“You’ll visit me in a year?” Luke asked. “You mean—you’re not coming with me?”

Vader paused.

Tilted his head towards him slowly.

From this angle, in this dim light of his room, Luke could only dimly see the irises behind his eye plates. But he could see them all the same.

Strange: they looked like they might be blue.

“No, Luke,” Vader said. “I will not be.”

Luke blinked.

Then—

“What!?” He threw himself forward and glared, scrambling to stand up and pace. “What? You’re not coming!? Why not!?” He sucked in a breath. “And— if Nova is Regent, then—”

“She will not be accompanying you either, no. She… will take you as far as Theed, and introduce you to your aunt and uncle, but that will be it.”

“I can’t—” Luke gaped at him. “I don’t want to leave you!”

“I know.” Vader’s voice was heady with emotion as he stood himself, and walked to the other side of the room, his hands laced together behind his back. “I— I do not want you to go, which is why I fought this so hard. But you must go, if you are to be happy, and— and I—”

He let his respirator breath for him for several long cycles.

“And I am needed here,” he said. “Palpatine’s supporters are not yet fully routed. I am needed to obliterate them completely, so that you can be safe. Even if you were to stay on Coruscant, I would have to leave you.”

Luke said, “Oh.”

Vader turned back around again. “I will miss you, my son,” he said thickly. “So— very, very much. But I believe… I believe that this is what is best.”

“Oh.”

Luke didn’t know what to say.

It was three am. Vader had broken this news to him when it was three am, when he’d woken from a nightmare, and Luke did not know how to deal with the galaxy.

“I believe that your friends will be starting school in two weeks,” Vader said. “If— in order for you to be properly integrated and enrolled by then, you will have to have met your family by then. Sabé… recommends that you leave in a week.”

“I understand.”

“We were meant to tell you this tomorrow morning.”

Luke said thickly, “You mean today?”

Vader snorted. “Yes. I mean today.” Then he tilted his head, and came back over; he took Luke’s hand ever so gently and guided him back into bed. “Sleep, Luke. You will need it, and I will have a great deal of explaining to do to Sabé when you awaken.”

“Yeah, you will.” But he consented to let himself be tucked in bed. It was warm here, now, and the shadows no longer seemed quite so deep.

Before Vader left, he paused. “You will be happy on Naboo,” he promised.

“I will be happy without you?” Luke shot back.

Vader gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Indeed,” he said. His Force presence roiled; Luke was struck by the sudden realisation that that was the cold in the Palace, that was a part of the memories chasing him every night…

…that dark, seething presence was, of course, why he had had no joyful childhood.

He could sense Vader’s regret, thick and thunderous.

“You will certainly be happier without me.”

Luke wanted to object. Wanted to object, because he loved his father, they had come so far—

But there were parsecs left to go.

And this journey, he suspected, they would have to take apart.

If only so they were in better positions to understand and love each other when their paths once again converged.

Vader turned to go.

“I love you, Father,” he called to his retreating back.

The reply was a gentle as a downy wing.

And I love you, little angel.

Beginning | Previous | Next

#luke skywalker #darth vader #random words on a page #my writing #the heir #luke palpatine #we're so close to the end of this fic it's unreal #:'(

54 notes · View notes

my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years ago

Text

Book Four - Part 11

As Dark and Anti's rage and fighting threatens to kill everyone in their vicinity, Red works with his brothers and Dark's soldiers to find a way to turn the tide of the battle and make sure everyone gets out safe.

Tws for gun use, threats of death, possession, extreme distress, and fire.

Part 11 - Soul-Shifter

aether-mae asked: Anti you need to reel yourself in for once in your damn life. Do it to show you have even a shred of control left in you. And Marv if you’re in there, shield your eyes, love

“I’m sick of pretending to be something I’m not,” Anti says, and his voice is a broken, warbled discordance, Jack’s voice cracked, rising, fallen, shattered. “I am not meant for playthings and pets. I am his killing thing and always will be.”

“I’ll show him a fucking killing thing,” snarls Google, straightening.

“Gigi, wait,” snaps back Shep, running back towards them, a twin clinging to each hand. He reaches out to grab Gigi’s arm and holds him back as they move away from the growing blaze which surrounds Anti like an omen wrapped around him. “He’ll melt you to a crisp.”

“We have to stop this somehow,” pants Ro, eyes watering from the smoke. “We’re going to burn.”

“We should talk to Dark,” says Shep.

“We should talk to Anti,” Trick answers.

“Or we just get everyone and get out if we can’t figure something out on our own,” says Ro. “Neither of them are easy to deal with.”

“I have an objective to prevent discord,” growls Gigi. “We’re not going anywhere. But we do need to get the others. Host, come here!”

But Host is sitting on the stairs of the porch even as fire eats up the sides of the house. His head is tilted as he mumbles to himself, expression blank, stuck in his narration.

aether-mae asked: I think it’s best to grab everyone and run. Neither of them can be reasoned with right now, and Anti especially needs some time to cool off, however that may go down. Just run!

“He has Blue’s body!” Trick reminds Ro anxiously, gripping his brother’s sleeve.

“Well, if we can get Blue and Host, maybe then we can go,” cries Shep. “We need out of here now.”

“I won’t leave the houses behind,” snarls Gigi.

“You know what, don’t worry about him, we’ve got the whole of him on a memory stick somewhere,” scowls Shep. “Let’s just get them and go.”

“It’s not that easy,” coughs Red. “Anti is possessing Blue.”

“Dark could help with that,” says Google, his rage pausing for a second. “They have the ability to manipulate souls. They could tear Anti out of him if they knew.”

“There we go, then,” says Trick, but when he turns to share with look of relief with Ro, he sees an odd look in his brother’s eyes.

“Manipulate souls?” mutters Ro. “What… move things?”

“That’s what I said,” snips Gigi, still not entirely convinced he shouldn’t be kicking Red’s ass.

“What does a soul include?” asks Ro.

“What do I look like, Google?” asks Google, deadpan.

“Trick, didn’t you hear Dark tell Anti his soul looked different because he had Blue’s magic?”

“Yeah? What does that have to with anything?”

Ro’s mouth tightens. Determination - Trick sees it in the way he turns, eyes piercing across the trees.

“Shep, take your friends and get out. Make sure my brothers get out too. Google, go get Host. I need to find Dark - now.”

The darkness of night washes over the whole of the clearing like a plague.

“I worry you might have just found them,” says Shep quietly.

Dark is a flicker of white in the darkness, a flicker of red, a flicker of blue. Only the growing flame brightens the clearing and all seems to have gone ghostly silent as Dark’s power rises back up to meet Anti.

“They’ll kill each other,” whispers Trick.

“Trick, go with Shep.”

“No. I won’t leave you and Blue and Anti.”

Gigi races off to get Host, heaving him up over his shoulder when he cannot be moved. Shep begins ushering the men with the toy cars back towards the mirror exit.

“Trick, go with them. You - ”

“No! I’m staying! Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I’m staying.”

Ro’s hands shake. He has never wished so much for the comfort of knowing that if he messes up, Dapper will fix it. This time, a mistake could be his last. And if Trick stays, a mistake could be his last too. Red can’t take that.

“I have seen you in pain too many times in my life, man.”

“Red, you said we would be real brothers again!” shouts Trick, even as the trees behind them begin to groan from the assault of the flame. “You told me we could be equals instead of tearing each other apart! We’ve hurt each other so many times. I wanted to believe you that night, but words are just words!”

Trick pushes forward and grabs Ro’s gloved hand, pressing their fists together in between them. Ro grips back as if on instinct, squeezing so tight Trick thinks he’ll shatter his hand. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. He squeezes back.

“Trust me!” he says. “Trust me like your brother. Not someone you have to protect. Not Anti’s pet. Trust me like your friend again, Jackie.”

A smile breaks across Ro’s face. He can’t help it.

“You remembered my name,” he chokes.

Trick laughs weakly. “Anti says it like a curse,” he says. “But I know better.”

And Trick sees in his brother’s eyes something too deep for him to call it trust after all. Feels more like faith.

And Red keeps their hands locked tight together as he moves towards Dark and Anti.

Anonymous asked: Anti let marvin go! You’ve hurt him enough already

The beeping of the camera is barely enough for Anti to drag his gaze over to you, trying to find the abandoned camcorder dropped nearby. His eyes focus and unfocus, burning through a myriad of colors. He’s on his hands and knees. For a moment, his eyes plead with you before he finds himself again.

“Let him die for all I care,” chokes Anti, struggling to get to his feet. This is a new development. He’s exerting so much power he’s dazed by it. It burns. “I don’t want him anymore.”

Blue’s voice has gone silent inside his head. Anti can’t feel him fighting back.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, are you about to do what I think you are? Because if so it's both the most clever and the most reckless thing you've done yet.

A small grin flickers through the curve of Ro’s mouth, both determined and tired. Jackie was an optimist, an idealist, a hero for the hell of it. Red knows what it is to fight for his fucking life.

“I don’t know exactly what you’re expecting me to do,” says Ro. “But you’ve always had my back, so thanks, truly. Today, I’m making my own decisions. And I have had about enough of these two. Hey!”

He’s moving towards the wave of darkness. In the depth of the shadow, the flickering red and blue outline of a creature stands, staring back at him with dead eyes.

“You get the fuck away from the lot of us, creep!”

“Oh, little hero,” comes back the echoing whisper of a voice, trailed by laughter. “Your master isn’t going to be able to beat me today. Look at you - what a pretty little soul. But so powerless. You’re nothing, child.”

“Even if I didn’t have magic on me, I could still kick your ass for what you’ve done to my family,” answers Ro, his voice getting loud for the first time in a long time. “You should never have laid a hand on JJ. Now you and Anti fight like you got no care for anybody else in the world. I’m nobody’s pawn, asshole. Today I’m knocking both of you off the board.”

“Let’s see it, then,” says Dark, their form appearing in white in the darkness. “You and your brothers seem to be rather forgettable. Why don’t you give me something to remember you by?”

“That,” says Ro, “is the last time I will ever obey either of you.”

And he snaps the string of Henrik’s necklace.

Anonymous asked: Dark, find what you remember about antis soul and draw it out of the body hes inhabiting. Leave behind any remnant of stolen magic if you can, please

Your cameras are blinded with light.

Dark and Anti give shouts of their own, and then you hear Ro’s cry, Ro’s battle-cry, ringing across the clearing.

As your vision comes back, Ro is a blaze of starlight meeting Dark’s shadow, his fighting staff striking again and again, driving him back. Anti staggers to his feet, giving a gasp of alarm as one of the trees in the forest behind him comes crashing to the ground, the fire still spreading.

“Anti, please stop it!” cries Trick.

Anti looks down at his hands, lost. Blue’s hair is sticking up on one side of his head. Anti just stares after Ro, blinking.

“Anti,” insists Trick.

Anti turns away from him and moves towards Dark and Ro, bringing fire and plant life with him.

“Or we could make a tactical retreat!” shouts Trick, wringing his hands. “Anti!”

“You stay back!” Ro shouts, whirling on Anti, and the burst of light that bursts from him sends Anti back to his knees, yelping and grabbing at his eyes. “If you weren’t wearing my twin, I’d burn you both down to a crisp.”

His body burns with the power of it, but it doesn’t hurt. He’s warm and full and he can breathe clear and easy, his exhaustion gone.

He’s Jackie and Red too. For the first time in months, he feels in control of himself and his choices.

And he’s choosing to fuck shit up.

“Look what you’re doing!” shouts Ro, his staff meeting Dark’s cane even as Dark falls back, eyes burning. “Your home is burning to the ground! Your friends - your soldiers - are scrambling for safety! You could burn the whole forest down!”

“I’m not the one who started all this!” shouts Dark, narrowly avoiding a blow from Ro’s fist.

“Don’t act blameless,” snarls Ro. “You’ve played along because you thought it would be entertaining. You’re just like him - selfish, bored, obsessed with things that have already happened. Grow up!”

He strikes Dark’s feet out from under them and Dark crashes to the ground with a gasp, bones shifting horribly in their back. Ro shoves his staff to Dark’s throat and stands on their chest, making them cry out. They stare up at him with eyes like obsidian, but Ro is well used to Anti’s shifting gaze and the feeling of being hated. It doesn’t scare him.

Dark, truth be told, is no fighter.

They have rarely needed to be. Even before there was Gigi, Shep, Ippy, anyone, Dark was enough of a manipulator not to need to protect themselves. There was always someone to do it for them - or, better yet, they would just be so deadly sly and intensely thorough that they could slaughter anyone they wanted to without anything truly dangerous ever coming after them. For the most part, Dark can kill humans whenever they need to, without ever staining the black and white of their suit.

Up close and blazing with power, Ro is not something Dark is ready to deal with. He crushes his foot against his chest, teeth bared. Dark can barely see him through that light on his chest. Ro is hallowed and ablaze. In the forest around him, everything is burning.

Dark wants to shout for Gigi, but they hear his voice now: “Host! Stop! You can’t go back for her in that!” Turning their head, they can see Gigi gripping Host.

“Moses! Moses!” screams Host, trying to get back into the house on fire. “My cat! Google, let me go!”

Ro turns his head too. He tries to take a deep breath, but the smoke is getting thick. Soon, they’ll all be trapped within the clearing, sick with the smoke and the heat.

“You need to stop this,” says Red, taking his foot off Dark’s chest. “I think you can, too. Anti can’t control the power. It doesn’t belong to him. My twin Blue can. You need to take Anti out of Blue - and tear the stolen magic out too. Give the power back to Blue, where it belongs. He can stop the fire. Only he can stop the fire.”

Dark pants, struggling to rise to sitting, but their spine cannot hold them upright and they sink back onto the grass, choking on blood in their mouth.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” they wheeze, sneering up at Ro. “The energy it takes to transfer pieces of soul - the darkness of that magic, the corruption of it, the evil - it will take all my strength and leave me sick and hurting. Then you and your master will kill me and mine. I’m not a fool. Let the forest burn. I’ll rebuild. Gigi can keep the others safe.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” snaps Red. “You’re just praying your soldier can be enough to protect them so you don’t have to do it yourself. People will die, Dark. People who never deserved to get caught up in any of this.”

“I won’t be vulnerable,” answers Dark coldly. “Let it burn if that’s the cost.”

“No wonder you two got along,” spits Ro, putting his heel back on Dark’s ribs. “Fuck you.”

“Dark?”

The softness of his voice draws their gaze.

“Wil,” they answer. “Go, okay? Go somewhere else.”

Wilford wanders towards them as though lost in his own home, shoeless and messy, ash down one side of his face and his hair sticking up.

“What’s going on? Where is everyone? The house is shaking. Hey, why are you hurt? I’ll carry you. What’s… what’s happening? Can we go home?”

“Wil, just transport somewhere!”

“I need the dog,” says Wilford, glancing around for the big dog JJ saw from his window, listening for its barking, but there’s nothing. “Where is he? I want to go home.”

Dark shoves Ro’s foot off their chest with all their strength, trying to rise again, but their back just can’t handle it. The pain sends flashes of white through their brain, making them unsteady and unfocused, sick with the hurt of it.

“Give Blue his magic back,” says Red, drawing his staff back. “Like the cameras said. You know it’s what must be done. I swear to you, I won’t hurt you or yours afterwards. You got them into this mess. Now get them out.”

“You’ll leave us be?” demands Dark. “You and your monster?”

“Anti is obsessed with you,” Ro answers. “And furious. But that’s yours and his to deal with. I will make sure he leaves this mirror without hurting you. That’s all I can promise.”

Dark manages to vanish and re-appear, but still they cannot rise. They lie on their side some feet from Ro, panting, eyes narrowed. Wilford races over to them and crouches down at their side, putting one hand on their neck in an attempt to ease their pain, and the other hand in Dark’s.

Dark blinks as though pulled out of some haze, looking up at Wil with wide brown eyes. Wil squeezes their hand. The confusion in his face is so deep it becomes fear. A flame licks at his foot and he flinches, mouth twisting with pain, just for a moment.

Dark’s shaking fingers wrap around his.

Then they look up at Ro with flame in their eyes.

“Very well,” they say. Singed with Ro’s light, their spine in pieces, still they raise their head up, if only for a moment. “If that’s what it takes, then I will give back that which was stolen.”

If you are looking for Anti in that face, you will probably see pain.

Fire and light and darkness. Yes. You will probably see his pain and his anger.

But if you are looking for Marvin -

It isn’t euphoria. It isn’t even relief.

It’s just a moment where the life comes back to him.

It’s just a moment where Ro’s light is reflected in his eyes.

And then he breathes.

He breathes.

If you’re listening for Marvin, you might even call it a laugh.

Yes, Dark moves the power in their shared chest. Dark casts Anti away and leaves him crumpled in the grass at Blue’s side. Trick yells in alarm and grabs him, but his hands pass through Anti’s intangibility.

“Anti? What just happened? Blue, are you - ?”

“Yeah,” Blue answers, and the strength of his voice startles Trick, who was getting used to hearing him whisper. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He gets to his feet. He stands up straight. His legs do not shake.

“Blue?” croaks Trick. “What - what just happened?”

Blue smiles at him. There is color in his cheeks again. He looks up at the light emanating from Ro’s chest and finds Ro looking back at him, mouth parted.

Blue touches Trick’s hair. “We’ll make this stop. I promise. Just stay here, bud, okay?”

“Okay,” whispers Trick, curling low over Anti’s body. “Please.”

Blue lets out a breath for a moment, staring around him, trying to think.

Then he is running towards Red as fast as his legs can carry him.

They crash together like ships, scooping each other up and wrapping around each other there in the middle of a clearing, in the middle of a forest fire, in the middle of a battlefield. Ro yells and lifts him off the ground, hugging him tight, and he feels Blue shoving their foreheads together and gripping at his shoulders.

“You look better,” chokes Ro.

“Yes,” says Blue, his blood rushing and his body filled with warmth. For long months, the world has been grey and dull and cold and distant. Today, he is a part of it again. His soul is whole. His power fills his chest. “You saved me.”

“You have to stop this,” breathes Red, clinging to him. “Tell me you can.”

Blue grips his gloved hands as Red sets him back on the earth, heads still pressed close. “We’ll do it together,” he says. “Okay?”

Red beams, squeezing his palms. “Okay,” he says, and what he means is at last, at last! “Yeah. You and me, my brother. Let’s fucking go!”

There are crocuses beneath their feet, springing up from the earth. There are roses and bluebells. Trees burst up from the places where they had fallen, moving towards the sky and flooding the air with leaves and fruit. Red swings Blue around, light cascading from their joined hands, destroying the last of the shadows, clearing Dark and Anti’s power away. Host and Google step back in surprise as the fire begins to fade from the houses and trees. In the forest, Shep is stumbling back towards them, staring out at Red and Blue in the middle of the clearing. Wilford plucks a rose for Dark and holds them as he feels them beginning to lose consciousness, exhausted from the effort and the corruption of magic so powerful.

In the middle of the clearing, Red and Blue cannot stop laughing.

“You look wonderful!”

“You saved me!”

“That was fucking incredible!”

“You’re incredible!”

“You are! Wow!”

He spins him around and around. Blue just holds on to him, clinging to his neck, and laughs until his shoulders hurt.

Ro sinks to the earth with him and presses their heads together, closing his eyes, and they hold each other.

The clearing is quiet. Dark is unconscious.

“Hey, hey, Anti,” they hear Trick sobbing. “Someone help me, someone please help me. He isn’t breathing, someone help.”

aether-mae asked: YEAH U DID IT!!! :DDD Jackie holy fuck I’m so proud man! And Marv!! Great to have u both back!

Ro wraps an arm around Blue’s shoulders and squishes him to his body. “Yeah, we did it.”

“We did. One thing, anyway. Not sure the battle’s over, but this fight is won.”

“Do you really feel better?” Ro turns to cup his face in his hands, looking him over. “Your eyes are still all, uh. Cloudy, I guess?”

Blue touches his eyes, still dulled and a little blank. “Yeah… I still can’t see very well. Is my hair brown?”

“No, it’s not. But give it some time and we’ll see. Anyway, it looks good these days. It’s not so short anymore. I mean, you always look good.”

“Oh, I’m sure I was a sight to behold when I was lying in that hospital bed with a buzzcut, bruising everywhere, and exhaustion in ever inch of me.”

“You’re always a sight to behold,” replies Ro, soft and earnest. Blue grins weakly, squeezing his fingers.

“Thanks, love.”

Blue is still a little achey and stiff, his joints still a little swollen, his heart still a little weak. It will take him time to recover from the loss of his magic, but having it back feels like finding himself again after months lost at sea. He can walk and run and burn like a star again. He hugs Ro one more time, needing to feel their bodies latched together and know that they have each other, safe and sound.

Blue’s head shoots up again when he hears Trick calling out.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s still worried about Anti all the time,” says Ro. “Just give him a second and he’ll be fine.”

But Blue’s never been able to stand the sound of any of them afraid. He hurries over towards Trick.

Ro sighs, glancing around. He sees Google stalking towards him and readies himself for another quick fight, feeling confident and powerful, but Host hurries over to hook his arm into Google’s and drag him back towards the house, convincing him to let it go even as Gigi shoots death stares back towards Ro. Shep waves weakly at Red from the forest and Red waves back, grinning.

“Thanks for the help,” he calls.

“Uh, yeah,” says Shep, staring around him. “Sure, anytime.”

Anonymous asked: Don't mind me fucking weeping at how magnificent that scene was- phenomenal work Ro and Blue!!!! you guys were incredible!!!!- but looks like we've got a new issue on our hands. Trick, what's the situation with Anti?

“S-something’s wrong, something’s wrong! Blue - Blue, why is he…?”

“Trick, it’s okay, it’s okay. The same thing happened to me, let’s just…”

But Blue doesn’t know what to do or what to tell him.

Blood is spilling from Anti’s mouth rapidly. Barely conscious, his eyes remain slightly open, his form flickering in low shuddering buzzes of glitching, his right eye glowing a horrible neon blue.

“Uh, uh,” you hear him choke, convulsing. “Uh, uh.”

His face is taut with pain.

Blue steps back, but the knowledge that Anti deserves what he’s getting somehow gives him only a burning hot feeling in his chest, painful and deep. Trick cries out and tries to cradle Anti’s head, chanting reassurances at him.

Blue wishes he would let him die. He wishes Anti were dead already. He turns and glances back at his twin, wondering if Red could end him right now with that light on his heart.

nikkilbook asked: You did it, Astrifer. You remembered yourself. Jackie, full of light. :D

Ro smiles weakly, still standing far from Blue and Trick, too worked up to take an interest in what’s going on. He looks down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists, staring at his scarred white palms.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think I do remember the things that matter now.”

He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, pulling his hoodie up over his head. His blue eyes, when they flash open, are brighter still than the color of his hoodie. His mouth curves. There is color in his cheeks and strength in his body.

“You can call me Jackie if you want to.”

Anonymous asked: squish he like a bugg jacke

Jackie blinks and turns back to his brothers, gaze falling onto Anti writhing on the ground. For a second, Jackie’s eyes still flame with light - but a moment later, he’s just nauseous. He stands picking at his sleeves and rocking on his heels, not sure what to do. Maybe he should be glad - a part of him is glad that Anti’s not burning the place down right now - but for the most, part, he just feels ill.

Blue glances back at his brother, mouth tight. “Maybe we should, Roser.”

But Jackie shakes his head. “Can’t,” he manages.

“Come on. You see him for who he is now, bud, don’t you?”

“Yes,” says Jackie. “But… can’t.”

“Ro - ”

“You two think you can get rid of me that easily!” shrieks Anti, trying to drag his head off the ground. “Shut your fucking mouths! I’ll turn you both into juice!”

“Anti!” cries Trick. “Don’t say that!”

His hand comes down to comfort Anti, resting against his shoulder, and that’s when Anti moves. Trick screams in alarm and Blue hollers, racing forward to pin Anti away from him, but it’s already too late.

“You get the fuck back!” Anti shouts from Trick’s throat, tearing Dok’s gun from Trick’s holster and pointing it right up at Blue. “Oh, you think you can act before I can get a shot off, kitty cat? Let’s see you fucking try.”

Anonymous asked: Ah, this is tough. I think by now we all know what side of the grass Anti needs to be on, but I don't think Trick is ready yet. At this point, I'm afraid that if Anti dies, Trick might die with him. But he's weakened now, as hurt as Blue once was. Right now, Anti isn't in control. You guys finally have the upper hand. You don't have to do anything drastic in this moment (like I said, Trick's not ready), but just remember that. You're stronger than Anti right now, all of you.

“Okay, okay, hold on!” shouts Blue. “Stop, stop, just let him go! You’ll make him suicidal, you can’t possess him! Anti, the cameras are right, we don’t have to do anything drastic. Okay? You let him go right now. Dark will - ”

“Dark’s out for the count,” snarls Anti. “Fuck, I’m so sick of the lot of you! No, you get back, fucking witch!”

“You get out of Trick,” shouts Blue, finding his strength again. “Or Ro and I will make you regret it, Anti, I swear.”

“Yeah, you make a lot of promises, kitty cat,” Anti sneers, flashing Trick’s white teeth at him. “And yet here you all are, still living in fear of me.”

“Let him go,” repeats Blue, reaching out for him. “Let him go. I’ll tie you in vines and - ”

Anti points the gun right up at Trick’s chin.

“Don’t,” he warns, voice deadly quiet. “Don’t try a goddamn thing.”

Blue is stiff and panting, sweat on his forehead. He backs away slowly, hands outstretched.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I’m going back to the house,” says Anti. “You keep your distance until I’m ready to deal with you.”

“No, we’re done dealing with you,” spits Blue. “You’re leaving my family the hell alone.”

“If you want Trick alive, you’ll back off.”

Blue turns his head, but Ro is paralyzed, eyes wide with fear, and the light on his chest is dimming.

“Okay, Anti, okay. You got him. Just don’t hurt him. That’s all. Don’t hurt him.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re afraid, Jackie. That’s okay. What will you do with that fear? What story do you need to tell right now? We will be your audience.

Jackie tries to look over at you, tries to move at all, but he feels stuck, frozen, useless. The light on his chest flares and then dies away. Jackie grips at it, panting.

“Don’t,” he manages. “Don’t, I - I -”

Can’t lose him. Can’t save him. Can’t move.

He can hear Anti shouting and gasping, can see him stumbling in Trick’s body as he begins to stagger away. Blue is crying out too, his voice getting shrill with anger and helplessness.

“Don’t shoot him! Don’t hurt him! Anti, stop, stop!”

But Jackie remembers the promise he and Anti made: this is the last time we play this game.

And Anti’s just realized that he is losing.

Jackie feels his body shaking hard.

What is he willing to do to win?

“Your audience, huh?” he hears Anti shrieking, aiming that gun at the nearest camera for a moment, Trick’s clear blue eyes flashing. “You think you can be here while you make yourself a weapon against me? You were only ever here for my entertainment. But now you’re not fun anymore. You think you get to watch without my permission?”

Your cameras begin to flicker and glitch. Blue makes a leap at Anti and you hear a shot go off, sending Blue scrambling back. Somewhere, you hear Shep shout, but you’re losing vision fast.

Jackie turns shakily towards you and scoops the camera up in his hands. Like he can protect you. Like he can protect anything.

“Don’t, don’t,” he manages again.

“Sorry, watching gaze,” sings Anti, coughing and laughing and speaking all at once, his gaze wild. He spits and Trick’s blood stains the grass, making him wheeze and choke. “Guess you don’t get to see how this story ends! Such little loyalists, but so fucking powerless, as always.”

“Anti! Let Trick go! Please! You can’t win like this!”

“Don’t, don’t. Don’t. Anti.”

Anti unloads the gun into one of the cameras and your vision cuts off. Jackie pants, hiding you against his chest, but you are slipping away, the connection snapping and flickering, your vision going dark as your audio glitches.

“We’re done. You are just a remnant of Jack, just like everything else, and I am sick of holding on.”

Blackness. His voice dying out.

“Say goodbye.”

You’re gone.

Dark screens and silence on the monitor in front of you.

You wait for long hours, but nothing in the darkness moves or speaks your name.

They’re gone.

Anonymous asked: We're still here. We may not be able to see you or do anything without that sight, but we're still here.

For a moment on the next day, you get flickers of them, buzzing on just one screen and flickers of a pair of blue eyes.

“Are you - can you - why can’t we - guys? They’re still - can’t - Anti - ”

They cut in and out and then disappear again, leaving everything quiet.

Anonymous asked: Jackie if you can see this and you're still having trouble getting the cameras back up, consider going to Shep; he helped Schneep and Trick earlier and maybe he'll get Gigi to override something?

There’s a slight flicker on the screen of a single camera.

Voices fade in and out for some hours. Sometimes they’re yelling and sometimes they’re soft. You think Shep’s voice - or someone who sounds like Mark, anyway - is in the mix somewhere. And then, after a couple hours, with a slight buzz:

Google’s working on it.

(Image ID: a Google error screen reading ‘There was an error. Please try again later. That’s all we know.’)

Anonymous asked: Are we completely cut off? Is there anything we can do? We'll wait if we must, we're certainly not giving up now.

“Oh, there’s one of them,” comes a deep, rumbling voice. “Yes, we got that one. Hold on, now. I think I can get in now. I would have been faster if your brother would help me take down his own defenses.”

The voice is slightly snide, but there’s nothing but irritable silence in reply.

aether-mae asked: Woah what?? What?! Where’d they go?

“Oh, there they are, there they are,” breathes a yet more familiar voice, and then your video comes back to life. Blue pulls the camera eagerly towards him, patting the side like a little pet he’s fond of. “We were wondering the same thing about you! Oh, thank goodness. Can you hear me? And see me?”

“Yes,” says Google flatly, sitting back beside Blue. “They can.”

Blue shoves Gigi’s arm, flashing him an annoyed look before turning back to you. “Fuck, I really thought Anti just took the system down permanently and we’d never hear from you again. It’s been a frantic couple days.”

He runs a shaky hand across his face and gives a weak laugh. “Feel like I’m about to snap. We’ve been able to stay with Shep and the rest of these guys while we try to figure out how to get the others back. Okay, I’m glad you’re back. Please, you have to tell me everything that’s been going on with the others. Is Trick okay?”

Anonymous asked: Sorry Blue, but we have no idea if Trick's okay. We haven't seen anything at all since Anti shut down the cameras.

Blue’s face sinks, his smile disappearing. He leans back beside Gigi and touches his mouth, eyes flickering away from you.

“You knew this was a possibility,” says Google coolly.

Blue punches his shoulder again, without even looking.

“No luck?”

The voice is accompanied by footsteps and Shep’s legs pass by your view for a moment before he heads to the kitchen, banging cupboards and dishes. Google rolls his eyes, annoyed already.

“We got it working, but they haven’t seen the others,” says Blue, putting his face in his hands. “Anti could have killed them.”

Shep hums. “Seems like it’s you two he wants dead right now, not the others.”

“I guess,” mutters Blue. “But I promise you they’re not happy over there.”

“So what now?”

“No clue,” Blue answers, tearing skin off his lips until the blood comes, his eyes faraway. “No clue. Storm the house, I guess…”

Anonymous asked: Uh, what? How would we know if Trick is okay? Apparently we haven't been... conscious? Online? Uhhhh, watching, for a few days. Is he not with you guys?

“No,” sighs Blue. “I know Anti cut off our cameras, but I assumed he left the ones at the house still on so you could talk to Trick and Dok and Dap and Anti. No, it’s just me and Ro here. Well, and Dark’s soldiers. We’re in one of Dark’s houses.”

He gives Google a glare. Google glares right back, but after a moment the irritation falls away from them both and they’re just sitting side-by-side, tinkering with the camera like they have been for days.

“You’ll have to slaughter that little monster if you want your siblings back,” says Gigi.

“I agree,” answers Blue firmly. “And I’d be happy to. But right now I’m flying blind and Ro’s a little indisposed, making it pretty much me up against that overpowered megalomaniac.”

Shep pipes up from the kitchen. “Well, I bet Dark would be willing to - ”

“Incorrect,” Gigi interrupts him. “Dark will expend no further time, energy, or manpower on Anti. We’ve had enough. Red and Blue are alone in this.”

Blue punches Google’s leg one more time. This time, Gigi reacts - he grabs Blue by the shoulder and throws him right over the back of the couch they’re sitting on. You hear Blue shriek with indignation and Shep start laughing from the kitchen. Google meets Blue’s gaze as he drags his head back up over the couch.

“Okay,” grumbles Blue. “Maybe I deserved that.”

Google’s mouth twitches. “Don’t hit me again, asshole.”

“You’re the asshole.” Blue punches him very gently in the back of the head. “Asshole.”

ari-trash asked: What happened while we were gone? Who's left?

“Oh, boy.” Blue shrugs, hauling himself back over the couch. “Me and Ro are here in Dark’s houses. There’s some other guys here, like Shep and Dark and Wil and Gigi and, uh, the twins. I think their names are like Jimmy and Jay or something. And that doctor, Ippy, was here yesterday. But yeah, it’s just been me and Ro.

“After Anti left with Trick, we tried to go warn Dok and Dapper, but we think they might have headed back to the house, or Anti was able to convince them he was Trick - or just drag them home, I don’t know. But we’re fairly certain they’re with him. We’ve just been trying to reconnect with you guys, cleaning up after the fire, and looking after each other a little. Ro kind of had a breakdown after the fight. He’s not really adjusting well to not being at home. It was a little too much change for him all at once. He’s been… a handful. Mostly for himself. But we’re working on it. I’m going to need him to get the others back. He just needs some rest. I hope.”

Anonymous asked: What's wrong with Jackie???

“It’s not… it’s not wrong, you know, like it’s okay that he’s… he’s just upset and sometimes when Ro is upset it’s like…”

Blue lets out a deep breath and buries his face in his hands one more time.

The good news is that Blue himself looks - well - absolutely wonderful. Looking up at you, you can see that his cheeks are ruddy and his skin is clear and sun-touched. His hair has gotten long enough that it has begun to curl at the fringe like JJ’s does, soft and snowy white, making his blue eyes burn despite the film still lingering over them. Whether it is his eating habits at Dark’s house or just the way he carries himself, upright and energetic, he looks fatter and sturdier, his form a little more filled out. His t-shirt is clean and he lounges in sweatpants slightly too big for him and fuzzy red socks, someone’s black gauges pushed into his ears. Stress lines his face and it’s clear he hasn’t seen much sleep, but for the most part, it’s nice to see him looking well again - well and ready to kick ass, if he could only figure out a gameplan.

“Ro’s just upset,” Blue finishes, shrugging his shoulders. “And he can’t stop being upset and that’s not his fault. Lots of screaming and freaking out. I can’t really get him to talk about it. Don’t think he can really express it right now.”

“You should go tell him the cameras are on,” says Shep. “Yeah? He’d be happy to know that, I’m guessing.”

Blue nods slowly, chewing on his lip. “Yeah… yeah, okay. He would like to see you guys. I’ll go see if he’s up.”

ari-trash asked: I mean, considering everything he's been through in such a short amount of time he's got a good reason to be upset. All that stuff sounds very overwhelming. I hope he'll be able to calm down soon though. But also- it's good to see you not absolutely miserable Blue. You look a lot better

“Oh, thanks,” says Blue, glancing down at himself, though he only seems to frown a little. “I feel better.”

He plucks at his hair and clothes, mouth tightening. “Kind of feel like things have been overwhelming for months for all of us. I think he just needs to recharge a little. Maybe a lot.”

“Hey, I’ll have dinner ready in twenty,” calls Shep as Blue gets to his feet and moves down the hall.

“Thanks, Shep. I’ll see if we can’t get some real food in him today instead of just peanut butter and orange soda.”

Blue walks you upstairs towards a sturdy door at the end of the hall. He creaks the door slowly open and peers inside, pulling back when he finds nothing but a bundle of blankets curled up on the bed inside the room.

“He’s asleep, I guess,” says Blue quietly. He reaches out to flick the lights off and leave his brother in peace. “I’ll check in with him - ”

“Hey!” screams Jackie, loud enough that Blue gives full-bodied jolt, swearing aloud. “Hey - the lights!”

“Okay, okay,” says Blue, scrambling to turn the switch back on. “They’re on, it’s fine!”

Jackie stares up at him, a blanket draped over his head, his eyes bloodshot and exhausted. After a second, he seems to register that it’s Blue. He closes his mouth and glances up at the lights, flinching a little as they burn against his eyes. He mumbles and curls back up in bed, hiding under the covers.

Blue sits down heavily on the bed beside him and touches his back. Ro groans and throws his hand off.

“Wanna go get some dinner, my dear?”

“This is not my house,” says Jackie flatly. “This is not my house.”

“I know it isn’t, bud.”

Anonymous asked: Oh uh... is this normal? I hope this isn't a rude question, it's just that he sounds to be kinda out of it ":<

“Well, he gets all mopey and tired after most of his meltdowns, but this has been like a two-day long meltdown and he’s still really upset. Which I haven’t really seen since Anti beat the hell out of him around Christmas, and even then he was mostly just shaky and lashing out. So this is a little bit on the extreme end of things for him. But it’s okay to need a break sometime, bud.”

Blue pauses to sigh, scratching at the back of his head. “To be honest, for as horribly as Anti treats him, Ro is used to living the way Anti makes us live. He’s used to having the others to look after. He’s used to having to be on the lookout all day for Anti to come hurt us. He’s used to doing what he’s told and knowing that Anti is watching all the time and buying our groceries and knowing what’s in the fridge and where we’ll get our water and what we’re all doing and… everything. And Anti is the devil we know - as opposed to Dark, who’s new and can mess with us pretty easily if they want to. Anti’s in control, yes, but Ro has played within the boundaries of his control for more than a year now. Even when he was in Colombia, he was still living like Anti was looking over his shoulder most of the time. Anti’s our normal even if normal sucks ass. And now normal’s gone. All of it. I’m happy about that, but I’m neurotypical, you know? Change is change and this was too much at once for him. And that’s okay, love. That’s okay.”

Ro doesn’t stir. His hands are over his ears.

“I do need you to try and eat something today, though,” says Blue. “And maybe get that hoodie washed? If you think you can - ”

“This is not my house!” shrieks Jackie, digging his nails into his palms. “This is not my house! I want to go back to my room!”

“Ro, you know we can’t – ”

“I want my little brothers!” he screams. “Now, now, now!”

“Okay, okay,” Blue tries to soothe, voice soft and hands outstretched, but you can see him gritting his teeth and taking deep breaths. “Honey, let’s just focus on right now. We’ve got all our nice blankets and we’re all full and warm – ”

“I don’t want that!” Jackie throws his blanket to the ground and you hear him just scream with frustration, sitting down hard on the bed and rocking himself back and forth, moaning. “I don’t want to be in this house, this is not my house, I want my brothers!”

“Why don’t I get you a little water and we can try to calm down?” offers Blue gently, getting up. “I’ll be right back, okay? Here, I – ”

“No, no, no!” cries Ro, leaping to his feet to grab Blue and pull him back from the door, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist. “No, you can’t go out there!”

“Babe, put me down right now, I swear,” says Blue, his composure breaking. “You were fine with me walking around the house earlier. Nothing has changed. Rose, we are okay, I promise.”

But Ro is just babbling now, squeezing Blue’s waist too tight. Blue flinches as his fingers dig into his waist. “Don’t go! Don’t go out there, you can’t, can’t, can’t. They’ll hurt you! I want you to stay here with me!”

“Red!” shouts Blue, shoving him off him, slapping his hands. “Cut it out, now!”

Ro bursts into sobbing, sinking down onto his knees and curling up on himself, tearing at his hair. You see Blue turn away from him, hands raised, trying to take deep, deep breaths.

“It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault,” he mumbles, taking a second to rest his forehead against the side of the door. “Okay, we’re fine, okay. I need a fucking break, holy shit. Okay, sweetie, we’re okay.”

Jackie buries his face in his charred, stinking hoodie and cries, scratching at his hands and rolling himself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Blue sits down heavily in the chair by the desk in the corner and tries not to cry too.

“I want to see them too, honey,” he says. “I’m scared too. We’re going to find a way to save them soon.”

nikkilbook asked: ....Marv, ask Shep or Google or somebody if they have a copy of Into the Spiderverse. Maybe bring it in and have it be playing quietly next to him.

“Into the - okay, yeah. At this point, I’ll take any help.”

Blue gets up, leaving Ro sobbing into his blue hoodie. Jackie screams when he leaves the room, but he doesn’t come after him now, just burrows further into the cloth, kneading his fingers against the fabric until his crying quiets a little.

Stepping into the hall, Blue finds Shep downstairs in the kitchen, dishing out bowls of beef and rice and green onions in a sweet brown sauce. Host sits at the kitchen table with him, holding a mug of coffee in his hands. His cat sits at his feet, blinking her big eyes.

“We might have some melatonin or something if that would help,” says Shep.

“He’s plenty tired,” says Blue. “Just upset every time he wakes up. Hey, do you have a laptop I could borrow? Or something to watch a movie on.”

“Yeah, Dark tried to get Wil a tablet, but he just never developed an interest in any technology post-TV. It’s probably in that room he never uses. I’ll grab it for you.”

“Thanks.”

Host sips at his coffee and reaches for a beef bowl, sat beside Blue as he waits.

“I’ve never seen Dark let strangers stay in these houses before,” he says, smiling coyly. “They must be… grateful.”

Blue watches him coldly, mouth pursed. “Or they want something from us.”

“I think they’re confused,” answers Host. “It’s a new state of being for Dark, and hence - new, unexpected character choices. Terribly exciting, isn’t it?”

Blue sighs, shoulders slumping a little as he sits back against the table. “The lot of you are even stranger than my family, do you know?”

“That is not a new state of being,” replies Host genially. “And it is how I like things.”

Blue can’t help but smile a little. Shep comes back and hands him the tablet. “Take some dinner too. And the peanut butter, in case.”

“Thanks.” Blue scoops up a pair of bowls, the jar of peanut butter, and the tablet.

“Marvin,” says Host.

Blue stops short.

He feels his breath catch in his chest.

“You’re not even trying to use that name,” laughs Host. “Why?”

“How did you know that was my name?”

Blue whirls on Host, eyes flashing. Host smiles back at him. A line of blood runs out from beneath his bandages.

“You’re not the only one here with power,” says Host. “Answer the question… for the readers, dear.”

Blue snarls, lip curling, but his eyes flicker over to you - and then away again, the rage freezing over inside him.

“Marvin failed,” he says coldly. “Blue will not.”

He turns his back on Host and stalks back to his borrowed room.

“Hey, honey,” he sighs, sitting down on the bed with his brother. “I got food and a movie. You’re supposed to like this one, huh? Want to watch? Spider-man?”

Jackie doesn’t crawl out from under his covers.

Blue’s shoulders sink. He sighs again and sits back against the headboard of the bed moodily, putting the tablet on his lap. It’s easy enough to search and find the movie on a Netflix account titled “WIMBLETON.” He clicks play and spaces out, eating his rice and beef. It’s good. Sweet. He’s not really hungry.

Jackie is a curled up warmth at his side. Blue tries not to touch or bother him. After a few minutes, he’s able to sneak out of bed and turn the lights of the room off, leaving only the tablet playing. Jackie shifts for a second, but doesn’t protest. Blue breathes a sigh of relief and sits down beside him again.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but by the darkness that has fallen outside, he can tell it’s been hours by the time he wakes up to the sound of his brother humming under his breath.

“Ro?” he croaks, rubbing at his face. “What’s going on?”

“What?” asks Jackie absent-mindedly.

He’s clinging to the tablet as Miles leaps off the side of a building, bobbing along to the music, a spoon full of peanut butter stuck in his mouth. He pulls it out clean and makes the whole bed shake with how hard he’s nodding his head, humming to himself.

“Did you restart the movie?” asks Blue.

“Mm-hmm,” nods Ro, drumming his fingers along the side of it.

“How many times?”

Ro shrugs, putting his head down on Blue’s shoulder.

“You’ve been rewatching the same movie for hours? You know you’re logged into Netflix. You can watch whatever.”

Ro shakes his head, eyes glued to the screen.

Blue can’t help but chuckle. “Okay. That’s fine. Are you feeling better?”

Jackie blinks, glancing over at Blue for the first time. After a second, his eyes drag back to the screen.

“Dunno,” he says.

“Okay,” says Blue, rubbing his shoulder, and this time, Ro leans into his touch. “That’s okay, bud. Maybe you can eat some beef and rice too?”

Jackie doesn’t look up, but over the next few minutes he lets Blue switch out his peanut butter spoon for a spoon full of rice and sauce and beef instead. Blue feels something settle inside him as his brother stares wide-eyed at the screen and then, when the movie is finished, hits ‘play again’ another time.

“Maybe I can put your hoodie in the wash while you’re all comfy?” offers Blue.

“Max gave me this hoodie,” replies Jackie instantly.

“I know, honey. Come on, love, quick.”

He helps shimmy the hoodie off Jackie. His brother makes a few mumbles of protest, but Blue wraps the heaviest blanket around his shoulders in lieu of the hoodie and hurries off to put the soot-stained sweatshirt in the wash while his brother’s eyes are still glued to the movie.

“You’re up late,” comes a quiet voice from the living room.

Blue pauses, blinking in the lowlight. There’s a faint blue glow in the darkness. “You don’t sleep?”

“Why would an android sleep?” asks Gigi.

“Well, you just sit around all night?”

Google shrugs. Blue stares at him for a moment, listening to the chirruping of the crickets and the weaving wind through the grass outside.

“I’ll bring it up to you,” says Gigi. “When it’s done in the dryer.”

“Thanks,” says Blue.

“It’s not personal,” answers Google dryly. “I just want your brother to stop shouting.”

“Right,” hums Blue, raising a skeptical eye. “That’s your job, huh? To stop chaos?”

“Prevent discord,” snips Gigi.

Blue chuckles. He steps over to give Google a punch in the shoulder.

“You gonna miss me when I’m gone?” he asks.

“You and your brothers can come stay here again anytime,” says Gigi quietly. “Just don’t cause me any more problems.”

Blue feels his mouth curl up into a smile. He touches the side of Google’s head and drifts back towards the stairs.

Jackie’s still immersed in his movie. Blue doesn’t mind.

“Do we need to talk about stuff?” asks Blue gently, touching his arm. “Or just watch movies and sleep?”

“Just watch movies,” says Ro.

“We might need to talk tomorrow. I’m worried about you. Just watching movies isn’t going to make this all okay.”

“Okay, Blue.”

“Okay, sweetie. Good night.”

He lies down at Jackie’s side. His brother puts a hand on his arm and rubs soothing circles into his skin.

Blue falls asleep to the sound of SpiderHam and his brother’s humming. It’s not so bad.

nikkilbook asked: Host, may I ask a favor? Could I maybe borrow Boots Moses for a bit? The Queen used to watch over Jackie when he needed it, but obviously she’s not here right now. Would Boots Moses be okay with curling up with/on him for a bit?

Also, and this is random, does anyone here have a lava lamp? Or maybe a weighted blanket?

You will get no answer from the Host.

And yet it is late that night when the door creaks slightly open and a cat meanders in, swishing her fluffy dark tail. Ro tears his eyes away from his movie just for a second, startled.

Host’s cat leaps up onto the bed. Jackie startles, glancing over at Blue, who just turns over in his sleep.

Jackie breathes in and then out, glancing around the room. He stares at the door, waiting for someone to come get their cat, but no one comes.

He reaches out and then pulls his hand in again. What if this is a trick? What if this Dark again with one of their smoky shadow cats? Or Anti, come to get him and take him away again? Or -

Moses puts her head against his hand.

Carefully, he lets his fingers rub down her warm fur.

She crawls into his lap and makes himself comfortable. She’s a soothing weight. He hesitates for a few minutes, but no one comes to get her.

Jackie curls up in bed and pets the cat on his chest, feeling a little clearer.

“Mhhh,” he hums, running his hands over his fur.

He glances over at you for the first time since you came back.

Gently, Jackie sets you on the bedside table. He doesn’t have any words for you right now - just big eyes and a fatigue in his face.

“Tell me if you see my little brothers,” he signs, sinking down in his bed at Blue’s side. “Please.”

He glances at the clock and realizes how late it is. He should try to sleep. He closes out of his movie - but two minutes later, his own thoughts are suffocating him and he feels himself rocking back and forth, bound to wake up Blue. He puts the movie on for audio instead, listening to the sounds of Miles running around the city.

His whole body is buzzing. Nothing in this room is familiar. He doesn’t know where any of his brothers are except his Blue. And it’s his fault. He was the one who -

No! He can’t let himself start spiraling again! He can’t go back to that.

Jackie pulls Moses onto his chest and wraps Blue’s arm around himself. He stacks up all the blankets they have and lays them across his legs and chest. He curls into Blue’s warmth and closes his eyes, and he listens. He listens.

He can’t always get out of his own head on his own. Right now, he needs something to ground him.

“Alright, let’s do this one last time…”

Anonymous asked: *pokes anti* *poke poke poke* bitch

He seems to be giving you the silent treatment, though there is a flicker of static in one of the cameras.

aether-mae asked: You’re being such a comforting brother rn Marv, good on u. And Jackie ur being so brave I’m very proud (sending again cos I think the first message died)

Blue blinks awake with the sun and your messages, rolling over and finding Jackie shifting as well. “Oh! Hey, you got some real sleep!”

Jackie squints up at him, shading his eyes from the sun. He burrows back down under the covers.

Blue chuckles and burrows down after him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Everything,” grumbles out Ro, rubbing at his face. “Sorry…”

“For what?”

He shrugs, turning away from him. Blue rubs at his back and sits up, buoyed by his brother seeming to have calmed down a little for now.

“Oh, I don’t know if I was all that comforting, haha. I tried but I don’t always know what he needs… usually we don’t have anything comforting around so he and I would just sleep or I’d try to get him a hot shower or something. Geez, are you a big movie buff, Rojo?”

“I like Spider-man,” he mumbles.

“You have been brave, Ro. What you did, stopping Dark and Anti, and then dealing with all this. I’m proud of you.”

“Come on, don’t treat me like a kid.”

“What? Hey, I’m not! Ro.”

He turns his brother over, flopping down halfway on top of him and making Jackie grunt.

“Hey,” Blue repeats, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m really, really proud of you.”

Jackie sniffles, his eyes getting wet again. He shrugs and closes his eyes, sinking down against his pillows. Blue lets him relax and gets up, changing into a different t-shirt and tidying up the room a little.

Anonymous asked: Jackie you gave Blue his magic back, we didn't even know if that was possible but you found a way! And more than that, you took the control over Blue AWAY from Anti, and that scares the shit out of him. He's scrambling for control over what he has left. He doesn't want us to know what he's up to until he feels like he has the upper hand again. Your brothers aren't safe now but damn it, we won't stop trying until that changes. We'll make sure you all get your way of life back AND get to keep it

Jackie’s mouth pulls up in a smile even as he hides his face shyly against Blue’s shoulder.

“He is scared of me,” he agrees. “I wish I could have recognized that a long time ago. But back then all I thought I could do to survive him was take what he gave me and hope it didn’t kill me.”

“You did save me,” Blue adds, touching his hair. “I was so tired, Ro.”

“It still didn’t fix your eyesight…”

“Don’t worry about that,” says Blue. “That’s Anti’s fault too. You already saved me from all the rest of it. We’ll get the others back, Red. For now, you need to be steady enough that you’re able to help me get them back. So when we talk about routine and sleep and eating better and helping you manage stimuli and all that shit - well, if it makes you feel better, you can know you’re doing it for them.”

Ro sighs, lying his head down on his pillows. You’re suspended above them in Blue’s hands, and the camera is nice enough that you can see the lashes above their eyes and the feeling of togetherness that moves where their bodies touch.

“I’m scared, Blue.”

“Me too,” answers Blue honestly. “But we’re together and we’ll figure this out.”

That small smile grows on Ro’s mouth. He nods, just once, clinging to Blue’s hand.

“Can I tell you something selfish?”

Blue blinks at him. “Of course. What’s up?”

“I’m… really glad you got caught too. In Norway. Sorry. But I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And it makes Blue smile back. After a moment, he turns his eyes away, and you catch a glimpse of the grief he carries over what’s happened to him - but he squeezes Jackie’s hand once more.

“In the end,” he says. “I’m glad too. As long as it means I can help you all now.”

They hold each other in the morning warmth.

“You ready to get out of this room a little?”

“Not yet, please,” Jackie answers. “I think I’ll freak if I see Dark or anyone like that. Feel like my brain’s just fuzz right now.”

“Okay. You can stay in here. I think you should try and get a shower when you’re up for it though, okay?”

“Okay. That can be the goal for today. That… and figuring out our plan for getting them back.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Marvin, maybe get some earmuffs or headphones for Jackie for noise, some gloves to block out textures? A calming routine and fidget toys would help as well. Watch for distress and try intervening before the meltdown, and be there for comfort and safety since you're a trusted person for him. And Roser, you're doing great, and you'll be okay. As a fellow autistic I know how awful big changes can be. Focus on finding ways to adjust to a new normal and things that help calm down.

“We have gloves, we’ve most always got gloves, luckily, cause his touch-aversion - skin aversion? - is pretty serious. Headphones - now that might be a really good idea. Maybe someone has something around here somewhere.”

Blue sits back down at the side of the bed as Jackie sits up again. “I think they’re right about getting some routine. We had a lot of routine back at the house. Getting up, checking on everybody or waiting for our door to be unlocked. Going to get water or helping Trick cook breakfast. And then kind of… doing whatever Anti said. But our day was always segmented up. Does that help?”

“Nothing’s going to help,” murmurs Jackie. “I just want my own house and my brothers. I don’t want this to be the new normal.”

“Well, it needs to feel a little normal for now, right? Just a couple days. Like when we would travel all of a sudden. How did you deal with things then?”‘

“I had the others then,” answers Jackie, his expression twisting like the question doesn’t even make any sense. “I had to look after them.”

“How does that relate to having a meltdown?”

“I don’t know,” shrugs Jackie. “That’s… that’s the stability. They are the stability.”

Blue purses his mouth, nodding slowly, trying to think.

“Okay. Well, that’s maybe a little co-dependent, buddy.”

“I know,” Jackie sighs. “But it’s always been like this.”

“I’m here, though, right?”

Jackie looks up at him, his watery eyes clearing a little. You see a slight smile on his face. “Yeah. You are.”

Blue squeezes his gloved hands. “Maybe we can start working on some routine and see if that helps anyway. Try to find some headphones and some stim toys.”

“Might help, I guess. But right now it’s mostly just about… not having them and me… me…”

“What? Hey. Look at me. Well - you don’t have to. But you usually do. What do you mean?”

Jackie’s tears spill over his cheeks. “Me being the one who stood up to Anti. I’m the one who got Trick hurt like that. Now they’re all with a pissed-off, terrifying Anti because of me.”

“That’s not - hey! That’s not true. Come here.”

Blue wraps himself around Jackie, laying them both back down on the bed and holding him tight while Jackie cries again, but quiet this time, quiet and tired and guilty.

Anonymous asked: This can't hurt to try... Dapper? Dok? Can you hear/see us?

“If I could just see them for a second,” sobs Jackie. “But I can’t and he could be doing anything to them while I’m lying here watching movies on repeat.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, come on. Ro, you protected us.”

“I’ve never been away from all three of them, never as long as I can remember… at least in Colombia I had Dapper. Now I just have to sit wondering what he’s doing to them.”

“We don’t have to just sit. We don’t have to. We’ll figure this out, I swear. Shit, he really won’t let the cameras see them? Fuck him, fuck.”

Anonymous asked: The second we see the others, we'll let you know, okay? I can't pretend that they're going to be in great shape, but they have to be alive. Schneep is an asset to keeping Dap healthy and obviously Trick is serving as a hostage to keep you all in line. It's far from ideal, but we can and will help you in any way we can.

“There’s no way he’s killed them, right?”

Blue bites down on his lip, holding Jackie’s head against his chest. “I don’t think so. I think they’re right. Not… not Dapper and Trick, for sure.”

Ro lets out a long, shaky sigh, gripping him close. “I won’t be able to handle it if something happens to them because of me.”

“It’s not because of you. It’s not. It’s because of Anti, Roser. No one else.”

Jackie rubs at his running nose, closing his eyes. “Do you think they’re hurting right now?”

Blue stares up at the ceiling.

Neither of them have an answer.

nikkilbook asked: What Anti does out of anger or fear or jealousy or whatever his deal is, that’s his choice and only he is accountable for it. You fought back to save your brothers, and you did an amazing, wonderful job. The only reason we’re in this situation is because evil grass boy doesn’t know how to take a frackin hint. It’s okay to be frightened for your brothers, but please try not to blame yourself. Take this time to put yourself back together. Make some basic routines and systems so you have some ground to stand on, and then re-enter the fray. Going back in as you are now will only tear you down further. Let yourself heal, Jackie. I’ll make sure your story has a happy ending.

“I just spent so long trying to be the one who takes Anti’s anger so the others don’t have to have it. And now that I’m standing up to him, Trick got hurt instead of me. Which sucks. But I’m starting to realize that he’s just always going to keep hurting all five of us. Cause maybe he’s just a dick, you know? He’s just a dick. And I’m mad he treated us all the way he does. Ugh.”

He rubs his hand over his eyes. “You’re right, though, that’s the thing. It’s nobody else’s job to try and make him less of a dick. He’s his own responsibility now and I am not leaving the rest of my family to deal with his shit for him when he’s never going to change. Grass boy, ha… he’s an asshole. I wish he wasn’t like that… spent a long time waiting for him to stop being like that… but he’s just not going to change and I have to put the others first. It makes me feel bad, but I can’t let that stop me.

“It’s hard to rest right now. My whole brain just buzzes all the time with how scared I am. But I do need to get myself back together a little bit. I’m just so glad Blue’s here. I’d be fucking terrified out of my mind if I were stuck in Dark’s house all alone. I couldn’t do it.”

He rests for a long time, just looking up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths, trying to think.

“Happy ending, ha… so weird. I really want to get all my brothers to safety, but a happy ending… I don’t even know what that would look like anymore. The nightmares aren’t going to stop, I don’t think. They haven’t for months. And I’m always scared even when I’m safe. Max is gone and all my brothers have been through hell. I feel like I’m going to die before I get any kind of ending, you know? Like how could I possibly… I don’t know. It’s not like I’m suicidal. I just really feel like I’m going to die soon.”

He chews on his lip, thinking it over.

“But that doesn’t bother me so much. Just as long as I can get the others free, please, and know that they’re safe when I go. And I’m trying to trust you. And him, too. Jack, I mean. That’s what he promised me, right?”

Jackie sits up in bed, finding Blue’s comb. He gets up and changes his clothes away from your view, coming back to stand in front of the mirror on the left wall and beginning to brush his hair.

His reflection follows him as he goes through the motions, trying to take care of himself. He barely recognizes the person who stands in front of him these days.

“Happy endings,” he mumbles, his eyes falling away from his own image. “I’m trying to trust you. Fuck, just let me have a chance to get them away from Anti. They deserve better. I… I deserve better. I do. I do, yeah.”

scunneredzombie asked: You do deserve better Jackie. Always have. All of you deserve it. You know what Jack said to JJ? "I made you all for happy endings." If things don't turn out perfect and fairytale-esque, that's fine, that's just how humans and trauma work. But I do think you can be happy again. I think you'll make it to the finish line, Jackieboy. We believe in you, and we'll be the audience you need to win this shit!!

“Hell yeah,” chuckles Jackie. “Yeah, you’re right. It doesn’t have to be a fairytale, but maybe we can find a little happiness anyway. I hope. Like, we served our time, yeah? That’s enough misery.”

He wipes at his tired eyes, his face beginning to regain its color as he wakes up.

“Okay. Okay. I’m alright. And I’m going to get my little brothers back - before the week is out.”

He turns and he gives you his smile.

Anonymous asked: Blue? I feel like we haven't had the chance to speak to you properly since at least Guatemala, before Anti hurt you and made you all kinds of sick. It's been a while and it's been a lot, just in general. I'm glad you're doing miles better than before and taking the time to look after Jackie but.... make sure you take the time to process YOUR feelings too. I know you like to put others ahead of yourself but we need you to be okay too.

You find Blue sitting on the porch outside the house, coffee between his hands. He stares down at the dewy grass. It’s nice to feel whole again, but sometimes, when he’s alone for too long, he starts to feel far away from the world again. Trapped inside his own body. Or somebody’s body. He doesn’t know whose anymore.

He remembers faltering to the ground. His knees hitting the earth were the last sensation before Anti filled him up like too much blood. Sometimes he would sleep, but sometimes, sometimes, he would see.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. “Don’t worry about me.”

His hands have carved scars into Henrik’s back. His hands have hit Dapper. This body is not his own.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Or someone says. He doesn’t know whose voice anymore.

“I’ll kill him,” he says. “And then this will all be over. Done. We’re free.”

He has shattered the handle of the mug in his hands.

Anonymous asked: It is your body Blue. Change and time and pain have withered the flower, but there is still wick in those bones. Wick enough to sprout whole gardens. You have fought with the marred hands of a guerilla, freedom fighter to your core. You are cunning and powerful enough to inspire fear through fire, and kind and caring enough to wean entire forests to life. You are still you, still Marvin, still Blue.

He breathes out and clutches his hands. In answer, blooms from the earth - fern and foxglove sprouting from the earth. He sets his coffee down beside him and shakes his head, turning away from the flowers he has pulled up from the earth with a soul made from flame.

“I hate Blue and Marvin,” he whispers, wiping at his eyes.

Anonymous asked: Blue, killing Anti won't fix everything. You all have been through so many traumatizing things. It won't feel normal for a long time, even when you get away from Anti/kill him. You can't hold up that standard or I worry you'll fall into a depression or even more dissociation after he's gone. Nothing can fix everything. Nothing can take away the scars. But things can heal things can be happy again. You have to be willing to give it time to heal. I know patience is hard but you need it to move on.

Blue breathes out through gritted teeth, putting his face in his hands. White curls fall into his eyes.

“I think you’re underestimating how satisfying it’s going to be to slaughter that fucking monster,” he hisses, shoving his hair away. “I’ve waited long enough. We’re going to be fucking free of him. And then it won’t hurt.”

nikkilbook asked: Take a moment to breathe, Phoenix. You know me—Jackie’s always been my favorite. Once, that meant I took his side without thinking through yours. Today, it means I’ll watch out for him and help him process things while you take a moment to let things stop. You can be fine, you can be angry, you can be numb, you can be whatever. I’ll take care of your brother today. You take care of you.

Blue turns his face away, staring back down at the grass.

“Well, I’m fine,” he says roughly. “So thanks. Just look after him.”

He looks up at the gold glow of the sun over the heavy statues of the trees. The life of the whole forest seems to swell up inside him, vivid and glowing. He takes a deep breath and you see the flare of his magic in his eyes, passion blue.

It fades away again. He looks down at the grass. Dew and saltwater in the morning cool.

“Phoenix,” he mutters, wiping at his cheeks. “Right.”

Anonymous asked: Then become someone new, Azul. Make a new 'self' if the others don't feel right.

“Come on, guys, we don’t have to talk about this right now,” sighs Blue. “I guess you have a point. You do have a point. But I’m - I’m not fitting into any persona right now because…”

He looks down at his body, holding out his hands.

Suddenly he wants to vomit.

You watch him stagger to his feet, clutching his stomach for a second, but the feeling of his belly only makes him dry heave, covering his mouth. He can feel the coolness of his skin now and he ducks around the side of the house, shuddering as he sinks down into the grass and comes very close to throwing up his beef and rice and green onions, his face going pallid white. The suddenness of the panic has thrown him completely off his tough-guy act and all he does is sit with his fingers digging into the grass, panting, his pupils blown wide.

You watch him shake for long minutes. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be able to turn you away.

“Look at me, look at me,” he chokes out, voice trembling and body completed clammed up, shaking from how taut he is. “I hate… fuck, fuck… I’ll kill him. It’s not about the names, it’s not about Blue and Marvin. I just don’t want to be… him. This. Me. Ugh, fuck! I hope I do throw up, fuck this…”

Now that he’s said it, he does want it - the validation of being so sick it makes him throw up. He wants the taste of the bile and the rawness in his throat. He spits into the grass as his stomach rolls. He won’t do anything about it, he promises himself, but he just wishes that had made him throw up. He wants to eat something whole just to make himself feel sicker. He doesn’t know what, but the craving is so intense that it makes his mouth water.

He hides his face from you and closes his eyes.

“I just want to feel like this is my body again. And to… like my body again. I miss… I miss… me.”

ari-trash asked: You can look forward killing Anti, take joy and satisfaction from it too, but don't make that the only goal you have for healing

Blue is turned away from you, hiding. He hugs his shoulders and crouches there by the side of the house, exhausted.

“Fine,” he says weakly. “My goal would be to not be so ugly anymore.”

Anonymous asked: Forgive my bluntness Blue, but you are very clearly not fine. Is there anything we can do for you, honey?

“No, no,” whispers Blue, trying to get back to his feet. “I’m sorry. Forget it. I can’t be falling apart right now… keep it together, come on, a little while longer. I’m okay. Just don’t tell the others, that’s all I want. I need to sort this out and make sure the others are okay before we talk about this anymore. Otherwise I’ll just be useless to everybody. Thank you for asking, though. Just don’t tell Roser. We’ll worry about it later.”

nikkilbook asked: Hey, Google? Are you watching? Does Wilford happen to have any hair dye? Or colored contacts, maybe?

“This is my system,” answers Google.

Or you hear his voice, anyway. Your viewpoint on this new camera he’s activated appears to be… from his viewpoint. From his eyes. You can even see the rims of his glasses.

“I can see everything you can see until Anti activates his own cameras or kicks me off this server. Wilford’s hair is naturally that color. I do not know of any dye in the house. I do not know of any colored contacts in the house.”

Something throws your viewpoint suddenly to the right and Google’s glasses skew sideways through your vision, hanging off his nose.

“Sorry, Gigi,” comes a guilty voice from his other side. A football clatters to the ground beneath you. “Missed the shot.”

Google sighs deeply.

“If I see any, I’ll let you know.”

Anonymous asked: Blue... despite everything Anti has taken from you, first your brothers, your name, your memories, then your magic, right down to your appearance and autonomy.... You've never failed to get back up and realize that Anti's behavior and treatment isn't right. Every time you've stood up, he's knocked you back down further and further, and you still keep getting back up to fight for yourself and for your family. If that's not a phoenix rising from the ashes, I don't know what is.

Blue wanders out towards the woods, where a little trail snakes its way through the trees. You can watch him brush his hands along the solid, scratchy wood of their trunks, breathing the warm morning air and the smell of grass and earth.

He sighs out, slow and steady. Trying to be patient. Trying to be brave.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, giving you a small smile. “Seriously… it’ll pass. Not much I can do about it right now. Once I’ve got Anti, that’s when I can start looking up.”

He finds another clearing further into the woods. The exercise makes him feel a little better - to feel his own heart beating, to know that it was his choice to walk out here, to connect with nature again. He remembers, vaguely, his own form of worship in woods like these, but not well enough to re-enact. Still, it’s always been nature, for him, that made him feel like there was more to the world than that which mortal men can plainly see. He doesn’t believe in God, but there is something out here, something alive and united and bigger than he is in the most reassuring way possible. He rests his hand against a tree once more and breathes.

The trees are still burned all the way out here. He finds himself standing before the torn trunk of a tree’s blackened remains.

He places his palm on the charred stump.

When he pulls it away, a single shoot of green is unfurling from the ashy remains of that which was dead.

He closes his eyes.

Anonymous asked: If you're certain on it then we won't tell Ro. But someone has to know how much you're hurting. You can't let yourself suffer alone, Marvin, not when there are people who love you and care for you. Could you talk to us, at least? Or Google if you've made friends with him? Suffering alone with dysphoria and mental turmoil will /definitely/ make you "useless to everyone." Better to get it off your chest to someone, anyone.

“You know,” he says gently. “You can tell the others later, if it’s still a problem then. We’ll talk again. But right now… I’m okay. Just had a freak out for a second. I’m… fine. Or if not fine, then… I will be.”

He glances up. The sun flickers on the leaves of the trees. Squirrels dart through the branches above him and the earth scuttles with bugs. A chipmunk hops away from him, flicking its bushy tail. He chuckles, closing his eyes again.

“Anyway, I don’t feel alone out here.”

He lets himself cry for a while, hugging himself in this little corner of the forest. It only makes him feel uglier, his face going red and splotchy, but he can tolerate it for now, on his own and yet surrounded.

nikkilbook asked: Thank you, Google. Do you think Ippy could grab some next time he’s in town? Or one of the other guys that leaves the house regularly?

Or, wait—how much reality bending can the Host do? Does he just Know Things, or can he affect them?

“He will tell you that he can affect things, but he is grossly exaggerating. He can barely make manipulations and he certainly cannot create, despite what he may have convinced the others. Do not - I repeat, do not - trust anything that stubborn little asshole tells you.“

“I can hear you!” shouts a voice from upstairs.

“Good, fuckhead! Anyway. Ippy doesn’t live here most of the time but Shep sometimes does a grocery run on Saturdays.”

nikkilbook asked: Keep it together in phases. I’m going to be making sure that Jackie takes breaks, to work back up to fighting fit at a rate that won’t crack him open in a way that will take years to repair. You do the same for yourself. Come outside and wander through the woods. Lay on the grass and stare up at the sky. Do a body scan thingy so you can get more used to a body that does what you freakin tell it too. Don’t frame it like you have to keep it together for the rest of forever, no slip ups allowed. Keep it together for an hour or so, and then go from there.

“Those are some pretty good ideas,” he says.

So he does.

And you stay with him.

He watches the sky as the clouds move by, carrying the heavy luggage of the rain on their drifting way. He wanders a while more, until his cheap sneakers have carved blisters in the backs of his heels. He tries a body scan, but when the focus on his body makes him begin to panic again, he cuts it out and just sits down by a creek, trailing his hands through the water. After a while, he decides to start a fire just for fun, and you stick out of his pocket as he gathers up sticks and then lights a bright blue fire there in the middle of the forest, using the sand of the creek to stop any spreading. It makes him laugh just to watch the fire go up again.

He’s felt dead for a long time, but it’s nice to have some fire back, to warm his tired bones. Maybe soon, he can start to feel alive as well.

A cold smile curls on his mouth as he stares into the flame.

Maybe when Anti’s blood slicks his hand, he can start to feel alive again.

For now - for now. He sits. He rests. He breathes.

#chapter four

5 notes · View notes

dastardlydandelion · 4 years ago

Text

casus belli

ao3 link

obligatory irl inspo link

content warnings: referenced violence, implied abuse

Max strokes her mother’s hair as softly as she can, gingerly guiding her fingertips around the goose egg where Neil whacked her with the wrench, gash no less grisly to Max’s eyes even now sutured up. It’s been hours but Max still feels rattled even though she won’t cry, can’t cry because she needs to be strong and calm for Mom. Being this close to Mom helps marginally at least. Close enough to touch and feel and watch her breathe, know she is alive even though she’d been so terribly still on the floor, hadn’t let out any sound nor even twitched after the gun went off and Neil collapsed atop her.

Max’s eyes dart toward sudden movement in her peripheral. She expects a nurse or maybe another cop but it’s Billy in the doorway, denim jacket buttoned, hands stuffed in the pockets of his blue jeans. He gives a nod, gaze flickering to her mother in the hospital bed. Max exhales softly as she draws her hand from Mom’s head and trots across the eggshell tile. She tried to call earlier but he didn’t answer. She deduces the authorities must’ve contacted him about Neil.

Max isn’t normally the hugging type but today has been an exceptionally scary day and in all truth, part of her wasn’t sure she’d ever see Billy again at all. Leaving Neil meant leaving so many things behind, her school, her friends, Hawkins. Billy too. She throws her arms around his middle and squeezes tight, tight, tight as a tourniquet.

Billy grunts, caught off guard, but then he breathes out and winds an arm around her.

“Hey, shitbird…”

Max thinks his voice sounds weird. She swallows and lets go, tugging at the drawstrings of her hoodie as she takes a step back.

“Hey,” she returns and it is the least of things there are to say. “The cops tell you everything?”

“I don’t know about everything.” Billy looks pale as his eyes dart between Max and her mother. “How’s Susan?”

“In and out. She might be in and out for awhile. Neil busted her head open and she’s still all doped up…I don’t think she remembers coming in or getting x-rays, or anything.”

Max uncertainly wiggles her hand as she glances back over her shoulder. Mom is dozing again, looks so fragile in the bed, legs swaddled so thick in their splints, toes just barely peeking out, chest tube as big around as a highlighter emerging from the slit in her gown and going into the drainage unit on the floor.

“My dad really did a number on her…”

“No shit, Billy, he was trying to kill her. He was yelling about how he wouldn’t let her run away again. ‘No more running!’ That’s what he was yelling that when I pulled the trigger.” Max rubs her forearms, swears in her soul she can still feel the recoil riddle thorough her bones.

She only fired once and Neil folded like a fancy dinner napkin right on top of Mom. Then Max couldn’t tell whose blood was whose.

“I’m sorry,” Billy grates out, grave and low.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of her,” Max declares, soft but determined. “I have practice and Mom’s bound to be a way easier patient than you were, anyway.”

She’d had to help Mom out with Billy after the Mind Flayer. Neil was weirdly gentle with Billy for a little bit in the beginning, when it looked like he might die. But when he started getting stronger and turned around for the better, Neil could barely be bothered to lift a finger. Didn’t contribute much to her brother’s recovery beyond complaining about medical bills and making a bunch of negotiations over the phone with the insurance company.

“No, Max, I’m apologizing because this is my fault,” Billy bows his head, eyes glued to the floor as his shoulders tense. “It’s my fault he found you, I’m sorry.”

A cold feeling creeps beneath her skin.

“What?”

“It was stupid, I was stupid,” he says, voice seeping shame. “I got you a new skateboard since I broke your other one. Decided I’d mail it to you, so I got it packaged up and all that, hid it under my bed. My dad trashed my room looking for some shit he thought I stole and he found that instead. With the address.”

Max clenches her teeth. In the recesses of her mind, she realizes it was an accident. Of course it was an accident. But. The way Mom screamed. Gunpowder scorching Max’s nostrils. Whose blood is whose. Mom not moving. Safety wasn’t safety even in Springwood, Ohio with different names and plate numbers, wasn’t safe in a million years because of the way Mom screamed and Max, who hadn’t been going by Max in public in Ohio, knew precisely who and what was ripping their new life to pieces in the way Mom screamed.

It was an accident but Max can still feel the recoil, Max is the recoil and Mom was one missed shot away from a coffin. Neil swung the wrench and Mom’s lung popped like a happy birthday balloon before Max’s hands could go steady enough to pop a cap. Mom’s courage has been rewarded with broken bones and blood and confusion, but well. It was an accident.

“I tried to stop him, Max.”

“Go away.”

“I tried to stop him, I swear—“

“Go away!” Max snaps, louder. “Get away from me! Get away from my mom!”

“Who’s fighting?” her mother groggily asks as she stirs behind her.

Billy relents under Max’s dark glare, shuffling a few steps back and turning away.

“Max?”

“I’m here, Mom.” Max retreats back to her mother’s bedside and smiles gently in assurance, placing a chary hand on her forearm.

“Was that Billy?” Mom blinks up at her, nose twitching as she gives a little sniff. “You smell like Billy.”

“Uh, yeah. Billy’s here. Neil’s here too but he can’t hurt us. Do you remember that?”

“Mhm.” Mom gives the slightest of nods and covers Max’s hand with her own. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you bring Billy back? I wanna fight with him too.”

“What?” Max gasps, bemused.

“I have a bone to pick with that boy,” Mom says, muzzy eyes half-lidded as she vaguely jabs a finger in the air. “He gave my sixteen year old a loaded gun and didn’t even tell me.”

“Uh, okay, I fully understand why that would bother you. And I also didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to freak you out—“

“You should’ve told me too,” her mother declares, almost petulant as her lips purse sternly.

“—but you realize I saved us both because I shot Neil, right?”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Maxine,” Mom insists. “Neither of you asked me for permission, neither of you said a word. Billy got a loaded gun from the safe and gave it to you, so I’m upset…and I need to yell at him. Bring him back.”

Max splutters, dumbfounded. Her mother is definitely as high as a kite. Her voice is so weak Max doesn’t know how she expects to yell at all. But she can’t refuse her request when she’s somehow striking that tone of maternal authority Max suddenly feels compelled to obey, even as hurt and dopey as she is.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll go find him.”

“Thank you.”

Max tenderly brushes a kiss over her mother’s temple. When she gets to the doorway she hesitates for a few heartbeats, gaze lingering on Mom. She isn’t particularly keen on letting Mom out of her sight right now. Her stomach flip-flops the way it did a few hours ago, when they took her down for x-rays without Max in attendance.

She reminds herself it’s fine. The only person who wanted to hurt Mom is Neil. Neil is paralyzed from the waist down and handcuffed to his own hospital bed. He’s not lurking around the corner or hiding in the shadows. He's not belly-crawling the corridors like some vengeful serpent.

Neil’s room is eventually where Max locates Billy. The door is shut. The blinds are drawn. Max cannot see inside but it is Neil’s room nonetheless, an officer standing guard and munching on a sprinkled, pink frosted doughnut with such gusto it’s like he’s intentionally trying to be a cliché. Billy is a few lengths away, gnawing at his fingernails, one shoulder leaned against the wall.

“Found you,” Max greets.

Billy bites the corner of his thumbnail and stiffly lowers his hand to his side. “Found me? You’re the one who told me to fuck off.”

“Yeah, well…” Max crosses her arms as she leans against next to him, idly kicking her heel against the wall. “If you knew he was coming, why didn’t you call the cops?”

“I tried to stop him, Max. We got into it. He choked me out and locked me in the hall closet.”

“Holy shit. You got out?”

“With some splinters in my knuckles,” Billy huffs bitterly. “Yeah, wish I would’ve thought to feel up on the top shelf sooner. My old Little League bat was up there. That helped.”

“Damn…look, I’m sorry i jumped down your throat earlier, okay?” Max uncrosses her arms and glances down to Billy’s hand at his side, exhales through her nose as she notes the bloodied knuckles. “It’s been a fucking awful day and I’m trying to be brave and calm for Mom, but…”

“Don’t. I deserve it. It’s my fault.”

“You’re not the one who broke into our house with a goddamn wrench like some horror movie villain.”

Billy just shakes his head.

“Anyway, we’d better get a move on. Because my mom wants to see you but I don’t know how long she’s going to be awake.”

Billy blinks rapidly, squinting his eyes. “She wants to see me?”

“Yeah, come on.” Max grabs him by the arm and starts to pull, only to let go when his face crumples into discomfort. “Oh. Hey, how bad, um…are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just kinda stiff, long drive didn’t help.”

Max nods and leads him back to Mom’s room without any more grabbing. Billy plods beside her and now that she’s paying attention, she realizes how purposeful his steps are. He doesn’t do any of those restless little movements typical of him, no finger drumming or collar adjusting. He’s moving no more or less than he has to. Definitely sore.

Max pulls up the chair for him when they get to Mom’s room, right beside her bed so neither have to strain to reach for the other.

“There you are,” her mother announces, twirling her index finger at Billy.

“Here I am,” Billy agrees, flashes a sad smile as he slowly lowers into the seat. “Hey, Susan. How you feeling?”

“Upset,” she says decisively, narrowing her eyes as Max pointedly mouths ‘painkillers’ to Billy. “You and I need to have a talk, mister. What you did was very irresponsible and I am sorry to say I’m disappointed in you. I--"

"I'm sorry," Billy blurts, interrupting as he abruptly bows so low, like he would to dodge whenever Neil would throw shit at him. "I'm sorry, Susan. I'm so, so sorry."

Mom blinks rapidly, confused as Billy starts blubbering. His denim clad shoulders tremble as sobs quibble out of him one after the next. He keeps apologizing between them, grief stricken and fraught with guilt. She hasn't seen him cry like this since the sauna test.

"Oh my...I'm upset, yes, b-but not that upset, Billy..." Anxiety tweaks her mother's features, her fingers warily fluttering over the guardrail that separates them.

Max lays a hand on his back and leans in.

"Listen," she murmurs, gentle but firm. "If you need a minute, you need a minute but don't scare my mom."

"I'm sorry," Billy repeats, this time to Max as he visibly struggles to pull it together. "But it's my fault."

"Oh, it's not all your fault," Mom insists. "Maxine had ample opportunity to come to me about Neil's...Astral Tyrannosaur?"

"Astra Terminator," Max corrects.

"Mm, that then." Mom's lashes flutter sleepily.

"The gun," Billy echoes. "We're talking about the gun?"

"It really wasn't right to keep it from me," her mother says, adamant and perhaps a little sulky. "But I suppose I came on a little too strong. Max, could you pass me those tissues?"

"Sure." Max grabs the paperboard box on the beside table and passes it to her.

Mom pulls a few from the box and reaches up, dabbing at Billy's blotchy face. He doesn't say anything. He goes quiet, snuffling softly only a bit.

"There, there," Mom soothes. "We're all here. That's what matters most."

Max shifts her weight from foot to foot and takes the tissue box back.

"I'm okay," Mom says, sudden and hasty like she's not entirely confident. "You shouldn't worry so much...either of you."

"No one is worried, Mom," Max promises. She winds around to the opposite side of the bed and pulls up her own chair, warmly pressing her lips to her mother's cheek. "We know you're okay. Just a little banged up."

And that's an understatement, but at the very least, Mom will get better. And Neil won't. They're free.

Her mother leans in and briefly nuzzles Max's cheek in return until her face is nestled into the pillows again. Having said her piece and with Billy calmed down, she seems relaxed again. She curls toward Max as much as her upper body will allow and with a little more hair stroking, nods off again.

Billy gets up to leave. Max catches his eye and shakes her head. His mouth quirks at the corner and he resumes his seat.

#my fic tag #max mayfield #susan hargrove #billy hargrove #why is nothing self-contained anymore #edited some text and added inspo link

4 notes · View notes

korkisobsessions · 4 years ago

Text

The Oath

XX. Fire

Nilah tried to wipe away salt from her eyes. But her face was still hot and wet and throat tight.

She heard voices of the villagers. Cheerful laughter and kids screaming and singing.

There was huge bonfire in the middle of the clearing. People sitting around on the logs, talking and eating food from big table that stood aside.

“Nilah! You came!” Miho and his pack run to her with colourful faces. They had flower wreaths they made with her that day, and their eyes sparkle in the light of the flames.

“you must eat this!” “And drink this!” they were shouting one over another “my mum baked this!” she was suddenly overwhelmed by their joy; she almost forgot her pain. “Where is Yeong shin? Will he come?”

Her smile froze on her lips. She really doesn’t know what to say.

“I... think...” She stuttered.

“Kids! Leave her alone for a one night. She deserves grown company for a while.” It was that older lady who met them, when they came to village for the first time. Whose son Yeong shin saved when plague broke. Plague he helped spread. She bites her tongue and blink away tears.

“How are you Nilah?” woman touch her forearm with concern.

“I’m good, thank you madam Bon-Hwa.” She bows her head. She had respect for older woman that helped them even though they were strangers.

“You cried, am I right?” older woman gave her cup with rice wine and wink “this will help.”

“Thank you. It’s, just...” what kind of words she should used? Nothing? How could it be!

“Leave it my dear. I don’t want to questioning you. Tonight, we should celebrate, sing and laugh. Let me paint your face.”

Bon-Hwa leads her to nearest log and kids brings colours. Some of them was like powder and some was thick. When older woman wet her fingertips in red colours and touch her face, Nilah felt chill running down her spine. She felt cold sweat on her palms and faster heartbeat.

“Why are you doing this?” she swallows hardly and try to calm down. She remembers painting faces from her homeland and every time she had colours on her skin, someone died. People in her land painted their faces when they were leaving to battle, to scared the enemies or when they sacrifice someone, to be closer to gods.

Nilah always hated it.

“It’s just for luck.” Bon-Hwa smiled calmly. “I draw symbols of luck on your temple. This is wisdom...and courage...” she wet her index finger in white colour and marked her forehead. “and protection.”

It feels like the chill turned into warmth. Her lips spread in a smile.

“You are very good girl Nilah.”

Something motherly sparkle in older woman’s eyes and she hug Nilah. “and now, drink!”

And Nilah drinks. And eat, but everything had sour aftertaste. It would be perfect night if there wasn’t terrible truth she knows. And the hardest part was that she missed Yeong shin. She wanted to be with him.

She finished her cup when people start to smile and turning to her. Like they were expecting something.

She was confused, but Bon-hwa patted her shoulder. “it’s your turn.”

“In what?”

“To perform something. Sing, dance, tell a story.”

Maybe it was because of wine or because it was the first time when her neighbours were smiling at her. It wasn’t usual. Or maybe it was that symbol for courage that Bon-hwa draw on her face.

She stood up and took a deep breath. There were a couple of men with string instruments and one of them looked almost like lyre she used to play. Musician gladly burrow it to her.

Nilah stood close to the fire and all eyes were on her.

“I must confess, I don’t know much songs from this land in your language. I will sing a song from the place I was born. It’s about sea and... endless love.”

From her spot it looks like the faces of villagers glow. Flames shine and she starts playing and singing.

Between the here, between the now

Between the North, between the South

Between the West, between the East

Between the time, between the place

From the shell

The song of the sea

Neither quite nor calm

Searching for love again

Mo ghrá

In the crowd she saw Yeongshin, watching her with sad face. He was standing behind, far from others, but he was there, hidden in shadows. She swallowed hard lump when she realised that no matter what he did...it was her Yeong shin. Man, who always protects others first. Man, who run to his last breath to save others.

What he did was wrong. But she knows him. He was just trying to save everyone, and it doesn’t matter if it cost him his soul.

Nilah finished her song and made her way through the crowd to him. He was standing there with head hung low like beat dog.

“Yeong shin...” she touches his face and can’t find right words. But then it slips through her lips so naturally that she can’t stop it. “...mo ghrá”

He raised his eyes to her with surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting kind words even though he can’t understand what that means. Her gentle face, glowing eyes and warm smile gave him feeling that it’s a good thing.

“My love.” she whispered again and this time he understands. Her lips found his with need. His arms sneaked around her waist and held her tight.

“I’m sorry Nilah, I should...” he whispered with urge. “Please stay. I always thought that I have only purpose. To be hunter and killer. But you give me hope that I can have more. You make me feel things I didn’t think were possible for me.” All around them was just like blur that doesn’t matter. All he cares about was his woman in his arms.

His warm embrace, sparkling eyes and hot lips were all she was focused. Until someone scream.

“Fire!” it was like hard blown into chest. “There is fire! Bring water! Quickly!”

Sky was suddenly illuminated by high flames. One of the houses was on fire and house right next to it starts to smoke.

Smoke and scream were everywhere. People were running around with buckets of water, shouting at each other looking for their families and friends.

“it’s Jae-Bong’s house!” Yeongshin was pulling her closer to house that were slowly eating by flames. Doors were wide open and two men were dragging Jae-Bong outside. Village leader was coughing and crying in pain. Nilah and Yeong shin run to them and help them lay big man to grass. Nilah’s stomach drops when she saw his leg. His ankle was in weird shape and skin was burned with nasty blisters.

“One of the burning beams fell right on him!”

Nilah kneeled to Jae-Bong, holding his hand and tried to calm him, but he was still out of his mind, crying and trying to get back to the house.

Then everything happens in blink of an eye.

She understands what was Jae-Bong whining. Her head spun and cold run down her spine when she heard it.

It was cry.

But not Jae-Bong’s.

It was Miho inside the burning house.

And Yeong shin heard him sooner. She didn’t have time to grab his hand.

“YEONG SHIN!” all she could do was just scream, when her beloved man run and disappear in the smoke and flames. Her heart stops beating in fear.

She leaves crying Jae Bong and grabs nearest bucket and starts to carrying water. She can’t even get close enough to toss water in the flames because of the high heat.

She desperately cries when she can’t see any movement in the house. Just cruel dance of flames and swirling of smoke.

“My son! Miho!” Jae Bong’s cry was filling her ears and hard lump was forming in her throat. It can’t be like this. Yeongshin will survive this. He can’t leave her here. But he was nowhere to be seen and house was completely in flames.

“Yeong shin! Please! “she cried desperately and trying to see through the flames.

And suddenly, out of the fire jumped silhouette with little boy tangled in blanket. He was holding him tightly pressed to his chest and struggling to make another step.

Nilah run to him when someone took crying Miho from his arms. She panicked when Yeongshin collapsed into her arms with tired sign. She never saw him so devastated.

“I got you. Its all right!” his skin was so hot it was almost painful to touch him. Few spots on his shirt were smoking and burning. She quickly jerked it from his body to not to burn through and hurt his skin. His chest and backs were dirty of ash with angrily red spots where flames bite his flesh.

They both collapsed on their knees. Yeong shin pressed his face to her chest when she was trying to find someone with water. In the meantime, she wrapped his beat torso into her plaid.

“Miho?” he croaks with raspy voice.

“He is safe. He is with Jae Bong. You saved him.” Nilah saw little boy in arms of his father, crying loudly. He was probably little burned and scared, but alive. Only thanks to Yeong shin.

“Nilah...” his voice was weak and painful. His shaking palms squeeze her upper arms with urge. “...my eyes...I can’t see.”

Shock hit her body like a wave. She carefully touches his face and lift his chin. His face was lightly red but his eyes were glossy and swollen.

“Oh gods, no!” she was scared to touch him, not to hurt him. He was suddenly so vulnerable. “Let’s get you home.”

There was no one to help her. Everyone was trying to stops the fire and it was obvious that villagers were wining against the flames.

“Hold on.” She knew that it will be hard, but she needs to get him home. She helped him stood up and than turned her back on him and with clenched teeth lifted him on her back.

“No... Nilah, I can walk on my own.” He tried to protest, but his voice was terribly weak.

Her muscles were burning and shaking, but each step bring them closer to home.

“It will be good. You will rest and everything will be fine.” She tried to calm him. To calm herself, but her eyes were watering even though she was trying to be strong.

Yeong shin can’t be blind. That word makes her sick. His sharp eyes were his greatest power. No matter what happened, good or bad; she always remembered his look, how his eyes focused on target when he was trying to shoot Cho Hak Joo.

She remembered his eyes when he found her in Hanyang, tired and broken, how carefully he was examined her and how surprised his eyes were, when met hers.

She cannot lose his tender look he was watching her every morning. Eyes that were watching over her.

His head was resting on her shoulder when she made her way over the hill. It was low hill, but she felt rivulets of sweat running down her face. Yeong shin was heavy and when he lost consciousness his body became heavier.

“I will take care of you, just stay with me, please!”

His only response was slight movement of his thumb that caressed exposed skin on her arm. His breaths were shallow but it was sign that he is still with her.

Their house was absolute opposite of the village. It was quiet, dark and calm, and it was absolute opposite of Nilah’s feelings. She was desperate, scared and exhausted.

Yeong shin wasn’t huge man. He was just a little taler than Nilah, but still, after almost mile of dragging his barely consciousness body, she was on the edge of her powers.

Her sweat was mixed with tears when she put him down on their sleeping mattress. Just painful moan leaves his lips.

“We are home.” She tried to calm him and touch his forehead. His skin was burning with fewer.

All she could do was cool down his body. Quickly she brings bucket of fresh water and soaked towels and put them on his forehead and ankles. She wet clean cloth and carefully touch his dried lips to get at least some water into his body.

“Yeong shin. Please wake up.” Nilah cried holding his hand in her palms. His arm was so heavy and lifeless it scared her to the bone. She kissed his knuckles and lean her forehead on back of his hand. “I can’t be without you. You are my everything.”

And after long time she prayed. She prayed to her old gods and made a promise. She was willing to sacrifice everything just to save him.

Again, and again, she was changing cold towels and wet his lips until sun woke up and lit up the room with soft light.

Nilah’s look didn’t leave his face, until she falls asleep curled to his side.

It was short restless sleep full of nightmares. She woke up with fresh tears in her eyes and heavy heart.

“Nilah?” his voice was weak, tired and hoarse.

“Gods! Yeong shin. I’m here, you are safe.” She sobs and held his raised palm. “ How do you feel? Are you hot, or cold?”

“Sick.” He whispered and touch his face with his free hand. “My head...ache.”

“I know. You were in great heat.” She put fresh cloth on his forehead. Sigh of relief leaves his lips.

“Yes, I remember.” His fingertips examined skin around his eyes. They were still swollen and red. “I guess it’s not deep night.”

Fresh tears leave Nilah’s eyes and she bite her lip not to sob out loud. His eyes...

“You still can’t see? Anything?”

Yeong shin raised his hand at touch her cheek.

“I’m holding your face, I feel it. Your warm skin. I feel your tears on my fingertips. But all I can see is darkness.” His voice was rough probably from the smoke he inhaled inside the burning house.

“Are you in pain?” her voice broke and she lower her face with cry.

“Nilah...” he was gentle when his hands found her and pulled her to his chest. “I’m not. Just...maybe little. But I will live.”

She cried to his chest, heartbroken. Her brave chakho.

Quiet knock on the door interrupted their painful moment. Nilah cautiously open the door to find Bon-Hwa with her son. They both looked tired and sad. Dark circles under glossy eyes. They probably weren’t sleeping whole night.

“Good morning Nilah.” They both tried to smile but it was weak. “we brought soup and some treatments.”

Nilah heard their voices like from distance. She leans on the wall and closed her eyes, just for a moment. Her face was tingling and she can feel her fingers cold and legs light. Her body was too exhausted to stay awake.

“Catch her!” she heard Bon-Hwa’s voice when dark surrounded her for a short moment. Her legs betrayed her and she was falling until young boy caught her under her arm. He helped her to sit on the porch and Bon-Hwa pressed flask with alcohol to her lips.

“Come on child. We must be strong for others.”

Strong spirit almost burned her throat but it helps. She coughs and felt heat flew through her body.

“How is Yeong shin?” Bon-Hwa sat next to her with worried face. Her son was unpacking bowls with food.

“I don’t know...” her voice was weak and tears sting in her eyes.

“Jae Bong and Miho are safe. Their house is burned to the ground, but they are safe. Thanks to Yeong shin.”

“His eyes...” Nilah sobbed and Bon-Hwa quickly hugged her. “He is blind.”

Older woman bites her lip and her eyes saddened. “Eyes are mysterious thing. Give it time. There is tea for pain and some aloe ointment for burns. Lot of people were hurt. We were visiting houses and bring food and medicines. That’s all I can do.”

“Where will Jae-Bong live?” she wiped her tears away and swallow hard lump in her throat.

One fire. How quickly it spread and how much pain and misery it makes.

“They will stay with us. Jae-Bong is my cousin. I must take care of my family. Yeong shin saved Miho’s life. If there is anything, I can do...”

“You are very kind. Thank you for food and medicine.”

Nilah found Yeong shin curled on his side with arms around his chest and deeply asleep. She at least covers his wounds with healing ointment. His breathing was calm and steady, but his eyebrows furrowed with pain.

Bon-hwa’s tea smelled awfully but Yeong shin drink it with almost one gulp and fall asleep again.

Later she made him eat a little bit of soup. It was strong chicken broth. It smells delicious and tastes even better.

“All of it tastes like ash.” Yeong shin grunted and put down the bowl carefully, but still spilling it.

“It will get better.” She wiped spilled soup. “In Hanyang, when I was burned, I smelled fire almost whole week.”

Yeong shin nods. Sun illuminates his face for a moment and he immediately jerked away with painful face.

“Does it hurt?” She can’t stand his eyes painfully shut. It was tearing her heart. He was still desperately looking for her and all he could find was darkness. “You want me to cover your eyes? It could help. Let them rest for a while.”

Nilah found her best scarf that he bought for her in village. It was made from soft silk. She wants something not to hurt his face that was still little sensitive.

“I’m here.” She whispered and at first touch his shoulder, to let him know where she is.

Gently she covered his eyes with dark blue scarf and tied it on the back of his head. He touches his face and shift the scarf a little. His fingers were lightly trembling when he was examined the position of scarf.

“Is it comfortable? If you want to lose...” he just nods. His lips in tight line. “Yeong shin?” her voice broke when she noticed his trembling chin.

He was crying.

He lifted his hand and she immediately caught him, pulling his head to her chest. He grips her upper arms like anchor and cried.

“I don’t want to be in darkness. I can’t stand it.”

Her heart ache and fresh tears wet her face. Nilah hated how helpless she suddenly felt. It was worse than be locked up in prison. It was worse than Sang-Ho pushing her down to the ground, violating her body. See Yeong shin suffer was the worst thing in her life.

See him suffer and can’t do anything.

“I’m blind for a day and I already miss your face.”

“please don’t...” she choked, biting her lip not to sob loudly. “I’m still here, still same. Still yours.”

#kingdom #kingdom netflix #kingdom 2019 #kingdom fanfiction #kdrama #yeong shin #yeongshin #fanfiction #chakho

9 notes · View notes