#'we said they should be ABLE to stab someone to death at twelve not that they should be FORCED to'

[arsenicpanda]

There are two types of series where kids have to fight shit:

Type 1: It is a travesty that these kids have been forced into being child soldiers. Adults have failed them—society has failed them—and the system must be torn down so no child is ever called to fight again

Type 2: Look, sometimes children gotta punch shit, idk what to tell you, it's fun and cool, so don't think about it too hard. They probably shouldn't, like, have to kill a bunch of people or do Black Ops shit before sixteen or eighteen though, that's kinda fucked

[pain-in-the-butler]

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏

[changeling-rin]

Hey there, I have a friend I've been getting into DL but I don't really know how to explain the links so I was woundering what would be the best way to explain each of the links (and sequels if possible please) - Friday (Please and Thank you!)

(cracks knuckles)

ALRIGHT PEOPLE HERE WE GO, LONG POST AHEAD

THE CHAIN LINKS

Gen: The Link from Skyward Sword. Short for Genesis, which he will never ever let anyone call him by ever because he doesn't actually like it. He's generally level-headed and appreciates common sense, and gets a bit miffed when things decide to divert from said common sense. He's the group medic, not necessarily by any skill on his part, but more because the group needed a medic and he couldn't believe there wasn't one yet, so the only logical decision was to do it himself. He gets very particular about the group taking the proper amount of healing items as a result. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio and is the effective 'super-ego', if you will

Speck: The Link from Minish Cap. He's quiet, by far the most quiet, and will really only speak up if he's a) confident in what he has to say, and b) confident that it will add something worthwhile to the discussion. He has the ability to shrink via his magic hat (Ezlo) and a magical conduit shaped like a Jar that he carries around with him. Due to the bit where he's usually in the background, the fact that he has a surprisingly violent streak catches just about all his enemies off guard - for example, his favorite method of attack is shrinking down and using his size to stab his sword directly into his opponent's eardrum. Ironically, outside of a fight, he's one of the Links most likely to apologize to a flower for stepping on it

The Four: The Link(s) from Four Swords. They're the split-in-four version of the Link who drew the Sword, but due to a hive mind effect, everything they do is in unison. They're pretty quiet most of the time, due to most people finding said unison relatively unsettling, but since the Chain couldn't care less about that they're more willing to speak up every now and then. They specialize in group attacks and such, but they're terrible at being individual. The nature of their hive mind means that it's both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly difficult to break their unison, and so most of the time they won't even bother trying. They have a little snarky side that comes out when they're stressed, and they hang out with Speck most often due to having similar introverted dispositions

Ocarina: The Link from Ocarina of Time, and one-half of the Hero(es) of Time with Mask due to time being broken and the continuum being shot. He's the younger half, even though he's in his sixteen-year-old body, and since he has the mind of a nine-year-old it makes a very odd combination. He has occasional confidence issues and a few self-worth/doubt beliefs as the result of hanging out with his older self and worrying about how he's going to successfully grow into someone so competent. He can usually be found next to his older self, or at the very least in the general vicinity of his older self, and he has a profound distaste for the necessity for secrets. Most specifically, his future, because it's literally standing right next to him and he'd really like to know if he beats Ganondorf, thanks

Mask: The Link from Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask, and one-half of the Hero(es) of Time with Ocarina. He's the older half despite being in the body of a twelve-year-old, and since he's technically got the mind of an eighteen-year-old at the very least it looks very strange from the outside. He's snarky, sarcastic, and takes great joy in messing with other people, most specifically his younger self by refusing to give away future hints and claiming ~Spoilers~ every time it comes up. He carries his transformation masks and uses then whenever the situation calls for it. He can usually be found next to his younger self because he's secretly worried about shattering his own personal timeline, and he puts a lot of effort into making sure Ocarina survives whatever mess they've gotten into this time. He also puts an equal amount of effort into making sure Ocarina doesn't notice this

Dusk: The Link from Twilight Princess. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio and is the quote-unquote 'ego' - or, in othher words, he's usually the mediating force. If it's pointed out to him though, he will steadfastly deny that he's in any suited for a leadership position - which is in blatant contradiction to the fact that he's probably the most effective member of the Leader Trio. He carries the Curse Stone from Zant around his neck in a pouch and usles it to transform whenever the situation calls for it. He's also the regular soul-host for Midna, Shadow, or both, depending on the day. He's by far the most level-headed Link, taking almost everything in stride, and it takes a lot to make him lose his cool. The one surefire way to do it is to threaten someone he cares about, at which point he will waste no time completely destroying whoever was stupid enough to make said threat

RGBV: Red, Green, Blue, and Vio are the Link(s) from Four Swords Adventures, and like the Four they're the result of one Link being split into four bodies. Unlike the Four, they've retained their individuality and have four very different personalities as a result. Green is the established leader of their quad-cell, and is the most level-headed one. He's not the most patient one, but he is the one who's not afraid to do what needs to be done. Red is the most emotional one, easily excitable and absolutely willing to give hugs to anyone who asks (and a few who don't). Blue is the most aggressive one, although he mostly directs it towards his enemies. He does have a on-again-off-again rivalry of sorts with Vio, but it's never gotten beyond particularly invested sibling bickering. Vio meanwhile is the book-smarts one, or at least the one with the most strategic intelligence. He's also the best ranged fighter they have

Lore: The Link from A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons, and Link's Awakening. He functions as one-third of the Leader Trio, finishing off the dynamic as the 'id'. He's by far the most unique personality, being a hyperactive chaos entity who delights in confusing people and making them question reality. He's also a polyglot, knows at least ten languages, and is constantly hunting for new ones to learn. He's easily the most experienced Link and as a result has Seen Some Stuff, but instead of being traumatized by the weirdness he decided to go in the other direction and embrace it instead. He's an absolutely terrible shot in spite of his numerous adventures, but the sheer amount of stuff he has tends to make up for it. He hasn't met a situation yet that he doesn't have an item for and he's not about to start now - although this is mostly due to his conviction that bombs are the answer to every situation

Realm: The Link from the original Legend of Zelda. He is constantly, hopelessly, chronically lost, and has absolutely no concept of where he is in relation to where everything else is. He also has a somewhat tenuous relationship with the concept of physical space, which tends to result in him getting lost in places he really should not have been able to get lost in (for example, a volcano). Regrettably this also extends to his items, which he frequently loses. In spite of this, he's one of the most cheerful and optimistic Links in the group. It takes a lot to get him into a bad mood, and given what he already goes through while maintaining a good mood, the entire Chain has yet to see him in a bad one. A side effect of getting lost so much is that his stamina is absolutely ridiculous, which makes him very good at drawing out a fight - in fact, that's more or less his specialty

Sketch: The Link from A Link Between Worlds. He has the ability to turn his body into paint and move along the walls like a living hieroglyph. Unfortunately, due to being made of watercolors when he does this, he also has a severe phobia of water as a result of the fact that he might actually die a horrifically painful death if his paint runs too much. Outside of that, he's relatively level-headed and very crafty, in the literal sense that he likes to make things. He used to be a blacksmith's apprentice before this whole Hero business got started (his specialty is metalwork). He likes things to make sense and gets a bit snarky when the universe decides to spite him by making no sense at all. He's one of the best Links at stealth, because for some reason very few people will notice the artwork on the wall and as long as he has a surface to fuse with, he can get just about anywhere

Wind: The Link from Wind Waker. He carries said Wind Waker as part of his inventory, and it lets him control the weather. He's a certified Weather Master in everything but the official certification, because he hasn't had the chance to go back and take the test yet, but the ability to throw literal tornadoes at his enemies makes him arguably one of the most dangerous Links in the group. He does prefer to hang back in a fight and hit from a distance as opposed to getting up close and personal, but that's very typical for a mage. He has an overabundance of patience, stored up from sailing for days back on his home ocean, and he'll take just about anything in stride - unless you're threatening his family, then all bets are off. He's one of the quieter Links, being more content to wait and see the results of something rather than actively participating, but this in no way means that he's not paying attention. He knows what he's capable of, is fully willing and ready to do it if necessary, and makes no excuses to the contrary

Steam: The Link from Spirit Tracks. He has the ability to see hidden things, which extends beyond his own disembodied Princess Zelda and into things like mask spirits or just plain invisible opponents. He also has a summons in the form of the Spirit Train, which he takes great pleasure in slamming into whichever villain has annoyed him. He's got a dry sort of sarcasm and he's definitely not afraid to say what he thinks. As a result of spending most of his adventure on a Train, he's easily the least physically fit of the Links and therefore tends to hang back in a fight, relying more on his summons for heavy hits or his sight ability to provide support. His previous career choice was a locomotive engineer, and as a result he and Sketch get along very well. They have regularly scheduled brainstorm sessions about what sort of gadget they should try and make this time, usually with Steam providing the math and schematics and Sketch providing the real-world experience to make it real

Shadow: The Link from a variety of games, since whenever a Shadow or Dark Link appears, that was him. He's bitingly sarcastic, could not possibly care less about the opinions of other people, and takes great joy in finding the best way to insult someone as possible. Being formed from the darker emotions of other Links, he's understandably in a poor-to-terrible mood almost all the time, although he can usually be convinced to take it out on other people. A side effect of being made of dark magic is that he can't be out in the sunlight too long - it'll start to burn him in the same way a match burns paper. As a perk though, he can manipulate his body into any shape he wants, mostly ignoring physics as he does. This makes him easily one of the most powerful Links in the group, since he doesn't take battle damage the way a physically-bodied person would and is all but immune to being stabbed. He makes for an excellent aggro target, partly because he can take anything the opponent could give, but also because he'll give it all back and then some

Oni: The Link from before Skyward Sword. Also known as the Fierce Deity. Saying that he's overpowered is a bit of an understatement, as he can take out the likes of Majora in three hits or less, but he's very unlikely to actually use his power like that. As a result of being put into a mask, he has no actual autonomy unless someone is wearing him, at which point he takes control of the body of the wearer to manifest in the real world. This lasts with no repercussions until his mask is removed, at which point Oni returns to his bindings. He has not deigned to explain how he ended up in a mask or who managed to put him there, but the loose implication points to the aftermath of the Demon War as the cause. Further information is pending. He's stoic and composed, and has yet to be truly riled up by anything that's happened. He also refuses, as a rule, to get involved with the rest of the Chain's adventures unless his presence is truly required. As the First Link Ever, and the one from whom the entire rest of the lineage has descended, Oni feels somewhat responsible for guiding the rest of the Links through their journeys - but guiding and coddling are two different things and as far as Oni is concerned, his legacies need to be able to fight their own battles

THE SEQUEL LINKS

Rune: The Link from Breath of the Wild. He has the Champion Abilities, as well as his own Quicktime specialty, and is of course concerningly amnesiac. He's quiet to the point of almost being forgettable, which is a side effect of a) spending nearly all his time in the wilderness alone with nobody to talk to, and b) having to constantly be on the alert for Guardians because nothing alerts a Guardian like a loud hylian. His inventory is nearly bottomless, and he therefore immediately becomes the group pack mule. He's also hands-down the best chef (something which makes Gen only slightly jealous)

Lux: The Link from Hyrule Warriors. He is the quietest Link, but not because of his personality - it's because he can't talk. The most vocalization he's ever going to manage is incoherent yells of effort, because anything beyond that is locked behind a psychosomatic speech block. He has not deigned to share why he has a psychosomatic speech block and at the moment it's highly doubtful he ever will. He's second only to Shadow in his sarcasm and general displeasure with the world, and the rest of the group is lucky that hylian sign only has loosely defined curse words, otherwise he'd be going off

RSE: Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald are the Link(s) from Triforce Heroes. Emerald is the leader of the trio, more or less, while Ruby handles anything that might need a good smacking and Sapphire embodies the emotional core. They have a strange dynamic where they bicker with each other to hide the fact that they care, which is a direct result of them still settling into their own dynamics. They have their Totem formation, of course, and share an incredibly specific set of opinions about fashion. The fact that they also have their entire wardrobe on hand is complete coincidence, yep

Lyric: The Link from Cadence of Hyrule. He can hear the Universe Music better than any other Link (with the possible exception of Wind) and he will do whatever he can to follow its lead. He's constantly moving to the beat in almost everything he does, and it makes him unexpectedly deadly in a fight. It turns out that following the Universe Music gives very good buffs and Lyric is a master at following the music. Ironically enough for all his sense of rhythm, he cannot sing to save his life and is in fact instrumentally challenged, which annoys him to no end

THE OC LINKS

Codex: The Link from the Evil Overlord List, a story I write that somehow developed its own protagonist. He's snarky, sarcastic, runs on caffeine and spite, and will probably take over the world someday if he ever gets around to it. He's currently just a college student writing his thesis paper (The List), but once he graduates the world had better brace itself

Wraith: The Link that was made as a result of a random conversation one day, in which someone asked me what would happen if Demise won permanently. Five minutes with my angst-stunted brain later, I had a cheerful sunshine child who had the ability to see spirits and was getting mentored by all eighteen dead Heroes as the backup plan to deal with Demise. He's way too pure for the world and probably shouldn't be as big an optimist as he is for someone surrounded by dead people

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours- 8

Word Count: 5,574

Story Summary: Follows Dean x Reader throughout season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: Lies come crashing down on you and Dean which results in Kevin's death after discovering that the angel possessing Sam is not who he said he was

Warnings: Cursing, fights, character death, mention of sex

You were still half asleep with your bare leg draped across Dean as his fingers traced patterns on your skin. “I’m worried about Sammy,Y/N”  You kissed his chest right over his tattoo “I know. I am too but what can we do here? Ezekiel says he’s not healed enough to eject him and after what happened with Vesta saying he’s practically dead inside I’m sort of leaning towards the fact that he’s telling the truth on that part” A ghost of a smirk graced his face before he said “Think Jody’s forgave us for missing out on that fight?” you buried your face into his shoulder at the reminder that the two of you had in fact gotten kidnapped by a goddess because Dean had been eager to make sure the two of you got to take each other’s reclaimed “virginity” as soon as possible.

“I think I’d be a little pissed at the fact that I got stabbed because two of my friends and fellow hunters couldn’t resist the urge to have sex in the impala two blocks from the hotel instead of waiting until they got alone” he chuckled then reached down to pull you closer to him for a kiss. “These last few weeks have been good though haven’t they?” You smiled “Yeah they have” since that first night you had started sleeping in Dean’s room because you quickly found out that you both slept better curled up to the other. You could hear someone walking in the hall and strained your ears for a moment “There comes Sam, think it’s a case?”  He shrugged letting his fingers slip under the shirt you had on and you slapped at his hand as Sam knocked on the door “Got a case! Meet me in the library!” Dean smirked at you as Sam walked away “He didn’t say when to meet him” you rolled your eyes and untangled yourself from your boyfriend “I’m fairly certain he didn’t mean have sex then come meet me” he watched you from the bed as you slipped a pair of his sleep pants on under the shirt you slept in then tilted your head towards the door “If we hurry we might have time to grab a shower before we hit the road” That made him get out of the bed a lot faster than he normally would. He grabbed a shirt on the way then grabbed your hand “Let’s go see what he’s got”

------

You were laid back across baby’s backseat as Dean drove towards Fort Collins. The case seemed to be along the angelic line so you were headed to check it out. You weren’t paying too much attention to their conversation as you were attempting to go to sleep until you realized  Sam’s posture had changed and knew that meant Ezekiel was the one talking to Dean. You cut your eyes at Dean as you sat up and caught the fact that he had apparently called Ezekiel out. “So, he’s better?” you looked over at Ezekiel who met your eyes first then slowly nodded to Dean “Yes, Sam is much improved. It shouldn’t be much longer now” “No offense but you told us the same thing last week” you added and Dean nodded in agreement. 

“As I told you both when we met, this will take time” Dean scoffed at that “Well then go, heal. We’d like Sam back now” Ezekiel looked at Dean for a moment then looked at you “I must say Dean, Y/N..I’m very uncomfortable with this whole trip. Investigating crimes involving angels or anything involving angels  puts me and therefore puts Sam at risk” “It’s what we do” you replied and Dean added “Family business Zeke.If we ignored this Sam will think something fishy’s going on”

“Then I trust you will both be discreet” Ezekiel said than a thought occurred to you that must have struck Dean at the same time because he said “Wait, if you know where we’re going that means you’ve been listening in. Are you hearing everything between us and Sam?” you were curious as well but Ezekiel said “No, just a word here and there. I have better things to do with my time than eavesdrop like heal Sam” Dean started to speak “Ok, cause here’s the thing” but since he was looking at the road he missed the change in Sam so you bumped his shoulder to quickly cut him off as Sam picked up the conversation he’d dropped when Ezekiel had taken the wheel “I mean I was gonna say, it seems like it’s getting really quiet out there. Not a peep from the angels, even Buddy Boyle goes off the air and stops recruiting for them” “Obviously a calm before the storm” Dean reasoned and you had to admire the fact that neither of you had gotten whiplash from the change between Sam and Ezekiel and how sudden it was at times.

“Yeah, maybe” Sam replied then glanced out the window. “What’s wrong?” you asked at the expression on his face and he looked a bit surprised to see you sitting up but he explained “That sign said Fort Collins fifty miles, last time I looked like twelve seconds ago it said Fort Collins one hundred miles” “You know Dean’s driving” you teased with a tense smile. Dean shook his head “Since that goddess got her hooks in you..” but Sam cut him off “It’s more than Vesta. I mean, this kind of thing has been happening to me. Like there are chunks of time just missing, like there are times I’m not here” It hurt your heart to hear the distress in Sam’s voice and not be able to comfort him. Dean spoke up “Like I’ve said” 

“Yes the trials,I know I heard you and Y/N last week when you said it and the week before that and the week before that” You leaned up between them and offered “Maybe because damn straight you have reason to be wiped after the trials Sam! They whacked you. You’re not up to warp speed yet but you will be and until you are you have me and Dean to watch your back” He nodded and didn’t look too convinced on yours or Dean's theories but still joked “Unless you get kidnapped by another goddess for shacking up?” you rolled your eyes playfully and said “For that I’m going to sleep” then laid back.

------

The bar where the crime scene was had cops covering nearly every inch. You climbed out of baby and followed Sam across the parking lot. Dean stopped on the steps leading up to the wooden porch and flashed his badge so you and Sam followed suit. The deputy at the door looked over all three of your badges and nodded “One of your guys is already here” another hunter maybe? Dean looked from you to Sam as you walked inside the door but you were just as clueless as they were.

You spotted Cas about the same time he spotted you and told the cop he was currently talking to “There’s my colleagues” The cop walked off so he could catch the three of you up. You shared a smile with Sam when he patted Cas’ shoulder “Agent” “Agents” Cas replied with a little smile. Dean on the other hand looked less than thrilled and while you were happy to see Cas you remembered just how many reasons there were for it being a bad idea that Cas worked this particular scene. “Cas, what the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked and Cas shrugged “I still have the badge that you gave me” Dean nodded “Yeah uh but what the hell are you doing?” Cas’ face fell slightly “The murders were all over the news. I thought I might be of help” Sam cut in by saying “But Cas you know this is an angel situation right? I mean you left that night because the angels were on your ass” Dean’s eyes widened at Sam’s words and you gave him a look silently begging him to steer the conversation a different way so he spoke up “Yeah, and you were living the life, you know? Early retirement, working your way up the gas n sip ladder” at least it got the conversation off things that could trigger Sam figuring out he was missing out on even more time than he realized. Cas glanced towards you as he said “If angels are slaughtering one another, I have to do what I can to help. This is a risk we should be willing to take. Don’t you think?”

Sam smirked slightly and you couldn’t help but grin when Cas said “Hey, Cas is back in town” and Dean shook his head “Seriously did you, did he just say that?” and looked towards you. You shrugged “Leave him be, he wants to help” Cas smiled then opened the file in his hand that held photos of the bodies “These angels were butchered, much more violence than required” Sam took the photos from him so you stepped back next to Sam so you could look at the photos as well. They were pretty gorey.  “Dean it definitely took more than one or two killing to pull this off” you held out one of the photos and he nodded then suggested “Hit squad? Bartholomew’s people?” 

Sam shrugged one shoulder “Well Bartholomew is a faction we know about but this could be somebody else entirely. Someone we don’t know” “Well whoever it is, we’ll find them” Cas confidently said patting all three of your shoulders in turn. Cas walked off and Dean sighed “We’ll find them. That’s great” the moment you looked from Dean to Sam you spotted his posture change as his eyes glowed slightly “Zeke? I thought you didn’t want public appearances?” you whispered and he looked past your shoulder to where Cas stood talking to a deputy “This is a big risk Y/N” Dean stepped closer to you and it shocked you slightly to realize it was a protective stance. Was he worried Ezekiel would hurt you? “We know, now give Sam the driver’s seat back” He nodded and his eyes glowed then the change in posture told you Sam was back.

You shot a look at Dean trying to ask why he was acting weird but he just shook his head “Let’s grab Cas and go get a beer or something. Talk this case over” “Sounds good to me” Sam replied with a smile.

------

All of you were still in your fed suit at a bar a bit further into the nearest town. You sat between Dean and Sam nursing a beer and could feel the tension rolling off of Dean. Why was Ezekiel being weird around Cas? Hell Cas vouched for him. 

“It is so good being together again” Cas said with a smile that softened your mood just seeing it. He was a little tipsy and you could tell when he tilted his beer “You know, this is my first beer as a human” then he looked around the table as a thought occurred to him “I hope it’s ok, me joining all of you” “Of course it is” you assured him with a smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Sam added. Dean looked towards Sam then said “Cas are you sure you’re ready to jump back into all this? I mean it seemed to me like you’d actually found some peace” Cas nodded while Dean was talking then said “You once told me that you don’t choose what you do. It chooses you” you bit your lip to hide a smirk at Dean’s confusion. “I’m a part of this, like it or not” Cas added and clinked his beer against Dean’s. 

Sam nodded clearly amused then said “Well in that case,we have to figure out who we are up against, what do they want and how to stop them” “Well Bartholomew wants to reverse Metatron’s spell. Presumably to retake heaven once his following is large enough. That’s according to April” “The reaper you banged?” you asked. Cas nodded “And Dean stabbed” 

Dean nodded “She was hot” so you kicked him under the table which made him add “Not as hot as you Y/N” “You are much lovelier than her” Cas added so you smiled at him “Thank you” Sam laughed “I’m gonna get us another round” Cas stood up first “Naw, I’ll get it”

You watched him stumble off the stool and laughed when Dean scoffed “One beer and he’s hammered” You didn’t clock Sam’s posture changing but when Dean said “Oh boy” you glanced up and knew with one look Sam wasn’t driving. “Well, what are you two going to do about this?” “About Cas?” you questioned and Ezekiel replied “He is a beacon Y/N, pulling every angel from miles down on our heads” You leaned a bit closer to Dean without meaning to as he said “You know what Zeke, level with us. What is it that you’re so afraid of?” his hand reached out to touch your knee and you calmed a bit at the touch. Ezekiel was starting to worry you with his actions more and more, you knew Dean could pick up on that as well.

“I told you both. When I chose to answer Dean’s prayer and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I’m not in good standing with certain angels” “Well neither is Cas” you bit back and felt Dean’s grip tighten on your knee as he agreed with you “And Cas is here with his ass on the line, fighting the fight. So tell me what makes you so special?” 

Before Ezekiel could answer Cas walked back over “Here we go, four brewskies” “I’m going to get something out of the car” Ezekiel announced. You watched him walk off then looked over at Dean placing your hand over his. You weren’t sure what was coming but something told you it wouldn’t be anything good.

You were being quiet trying to still your mind until Cas cleared his throat “Dean, I um noticed you look kind of uncomfortable when Sam mentions my leaving. If Y/N knows you told me to leave, why doesn’t he?”  you looked between the two of them because you honestly had no response. Dean sighed “Look, here’s the deal when Sam was doing the trials to seal up hell, It messed him up ok? The third one nearly killed him. If I’d let him finish it would have, he’s still messed up bad” Cas looked a bit confused “You said the angel Ezekiel helped heal him” 

You squeezed Dean’s hand that was still on your knee before he said “Look, I got to do anything I can to get him back. Now if that means we keep our distance from you for a little while then I don’t have a choice” You added “You have to know he doesn’t feel good about that choice Cas, neither do I but” “It’s great to have your help Cas but we just can’t work together” Dean finished and you felt your heart drop at how broken Cas looked again. He’d lost the angels that were his family and now you and Dean were turning your backs on him. 

------

“Dean, how long are we supposed to trust Ezekiel? I mean I see how you act every time he comes out. You don’t trust him”  Sam was in the map room last you’d seen him so you cornered Dean in the kitchen both of you whispering so none of the other habitants of the bunker would overhear. “I don’t know Y/N but we can’t risk him leaving and it killing Sam” you nodded and took a deep breath before giving voice to your next thought “What if he’s lying and using Sam and this bunker as a place to hide? I mean if Cas trusted him enough to say we should work with him why doesn’t he want Cas around?” Dean started to talk but was cut off by Sam calling both of your names.

He’d been doing some digging on the bikers that had been slaughtered. Turned out all the vics had been baptized together. A born again biker game and when Sam showed both of you the group photo of the bikers Dean spotted a patch on one of their jackets that read B.B. and underneath it spelled out was Boyle’s boys. “As in Buddy Boyle?” you asked. Sam clicked on another screen “Get this according to this guy’s wife he’d always been a religious man but a week before his death he’d come home from a bible meeting a changed man. Filled with divine glory” “So Boyle’s back at it? Just in smaller groups?” you questioned and Dean nodded “Smaller groups he makes sure it’s the angels Bartholomew wants getting in” “Well you always have said angels are dicks” you groaned at the thought of more innocent people getting slaughtered for Metatron’s actions.

------

With no other place to turn you and Dean decided to rope Kevin into hitting the lore again. Maybe just maybe Crowley had indeed lied.

Dean was on his laptop and you had four different books spread out in front of you while Kevin poured over the angel tablet. “There may be nothing in here. Crowley said the spell that cast down the angels was irreversible” “Since when do we believe that dick?” you replied not glancing up. You didn’t want to mention to Dean that Sam had left a while ago and had yet to return.

Kevin found one spot in the tablet and said it was nearly indecipherable as if when Metatron wrote it down he wanted it hidden from everyone,prophets included. There was another angel kill in Utah and had a connection to the last killing. “Rival angel gangs. Christ Kev, clock’s ticking honey”

------

You had just gotten through making Kevin lunch and he was headed back to the library when Dean walked into the kitchen “Sweetheart have you seen Sam?” you started to shake your head no but Kevin answered “He went out” “Where?” Dean questioned glancing back at you so you shrugged.

“I don’t know either. But have you two noticed he’s doing that a lot recently?” you had in fact noticed it and hoped you were wrong but something told you Ezekiel had grown tired of riding along and wanted to drive full time.”Yeah” Dean replied looking at you. That was enough to tell you he was thinking along the same line as you were. Dean’s phone started ringing so Kevin walked out the kitchen while Dean answered the call.

You glanced at him curiously and he mouthed “Cas” so you stopped cleaning to pay attention. “How do you know that?” then after a moment he asked “How?” You could feel your stomach knotting more and more with every moment “Where is he?” you whispered and he shrugged. “Wait you’re back? You got your mojo?” “He got his grace?” you whispered and Dean nodded then listened to what Cas was saying.

“What?...Yeah..Why?” Dean met your eyes when he said “What?” as soon as he hung up with Cas he grabbed your arm and nearly drug you behind him to the library “What’s going on Dean?” you asked but he shook his head knocking a chair out of your path as he stopped next to Kevin “I need a spell asap” Kevin sighed “Everyone always needs a spell and it’s always asap” you were clueless as to what was going on so you remained silent as Dean spoke “Look, an angel can’t be expelled by another human right? What if there was a way to power down the angel so that it wasn’t in charge for a few seconds?” “What?” you and Kevin both asked.

“Hypothetically if I wanted to speak with the vessel but not have the squatter listen in” you figured out that whatever Cas had to say wasn’t anything good. “Why?” Kevin pushed so you offered “If we have a way to power down angels we can save a lot of lives”  “Find the spell now?” Kevin asked and Dean grabbed your arm again “Yesterday Kevin” then pulled you behind him down the hall.

------

You snatched away from him as soon as you were certain Kevin wouldn’t overhear “Ok baby you’re scaring me. What is going on?” he took a deep breath then said “Whoever is inside of Sam is not Ezekiel. He died in the fall” you ran your hand across your face forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths “What do we do?” “Hope Kevin finds a spell and hope it works”

“And if it doesn’t?” you asked knowing the answer even before Dean said “We may lose Sam”

------

It didn’t take Kevin long to find the sigils that were supposed to hobble an angel long enough to give the vessel control so him and Dean painted it on the wall in the store room while you stood near the entrance trying to keep an eye out for Sam. You could hear Kevin asking Dean what was really going on so you walked towards the sound of their voices “Just trust us Kev, ok?” you said and he looked between you and Dean then slowly nodded “I always trust you two and I always end up screwed” “Not always” you added with a slight smile.

Dean bumped your arm when he heard Sam come in from the garage entrance. You followed him into the kitchen where Sam was putting stuff away in the fridge “Where you been?” Dean asked so Sam turned with a half smile “Beer run” “That was a long beer run” you added as you followed Dean into the room noticing how he was placing himself between you and Sam. If he was that worried it spoke volumes.

“Can we talk?” Dean asked him so he nodded and shoved everything into the fridge “Yeah, sure”

------

Dean led the way to the storage room. He let Sam walk inside but kept you within arm’s reach. “This sounds serious,” Sam said and you saw when Dean sliced his palm and touched the sigil on the door. Sam turned at the sound of the sigil powering up “What’s going on?”

“We need to tell you some stuff fast” Dean said and you added “It’s gonna really piss you off” “Ok” Sam hesitantly responded. Dean unconsciously pushed you behind him as he spoke “Those trials really messed you up” “Yes I know that..” Sam started but Dean but him off “No. You don’t. I mean messed you up like almost dead. No more birthdays, dust to dust. So that messed me up and it messed Y/N up. So I made a move. A tough move about you without talking it over because you were in a coma” Sam looked from you to Dean “What? When?”

“You were in the hospital Sam. Dean called me when they said you weren’t going to make it” “What did you two do?” he asked. “I let an angel in” Dean answered. “In what?” Sam asked and you answered that time “In you”

“He said he could heal you and he is” you added quickly. You saw tears in Sam’s eyes when he asked “He’s still in me?” Dean nodded then Sam shook his head “That’s impossible. I never invited him in” “I tricked you into saying yes. It seemed like the only way” Dean clarified.

Sam took a shuddering breath “So,again. You thought I couldn’t handle something so you took over and got my best friend to lie to me too!” “He did what he had to do Sam” you weren’t trying to side with either of them but you also knew time was running short. “You never would’ve agreed to it and you would’ve died!” Dean added.

The argument continued between the two of them until you looked at Dean “Enough. Tell him the biggest problem” “Biggest problem?” Sam questioned so Dean nodded “The angel lied to us.He said his name was Ezekiel. Cool guy, according to Cas but it’s not Ezekiel” “Then who is he?” Sam asked and you shook your head “We don’t know”

“Ezekiel is dead and whoever this guy is can end you in a heartbeat so you have to dump him” Dean spoke and you could feel your hands shake slightly. Sam turned to walk past you both so Dean tried to stop him but when he got to the door he swung on Dean and the punch landed solidly knocking Dean out. “Sam!” you screamed and he shook his head at you “Check on him. Don’t follow me”

You went to your knees at Dean’s side “C’mon Dean, wake up god dammit” you shook him roughly and he groaned “Where’d he go?” as you helped him to his feet and explained what Sam had told you.

------

The two of you made it into the map room in enough time to see Ezekiel smite Kevin. “NO!” you screamed and felt Dean’s arm slide around your waist about the time Ezekiel or whoever he was threw the two of you back into a beam holding you there with his powers. Dean was taking the worst of it and using his own body to block yours. 

“Sam?” you both called hoping but that hope was crushed when he said “There is no more Sam” You could feel a weight on your chest from the force of the angel’s powers and knew it was worse on Dean. “But I played him convincingly, I thought” The angel taunted.

You and Dean were both struggling to breathe but Dean managed to ask “How did you” the angel explained he heard the two of you talking with Kevin and had altered the sigil.

You watched helplessly while the angel wearing your best friend’s face packed the angel tablet into a backpack then said “Sorry about Kevin but ultimately it’s for the best.. I did what I had to” He laid a piece of paper with Kevin’s name on his chest then stood and walked out.

The moment his powers released you and Dean you crumpled to the floor but he caught you before you hit hard. You gasped for breath, clinging to Dean’s shirt. You slowly looked at Kevin and felt your heart rip into pieces. He was gone, his eyes burnt from the inside out. “Kevin?” Dean spoke softly, tears falling down his face as you cried into his chest.

------

Minutes passed as the two of you sat with the severity of the situation sinking deeper and deeper. In the span of moments you’d lost Kevin forever and if you couldn’t find some way to get the angel out of Sam there was a high chance of losing him as well.

“We can’t leave him laying there Y/N” Dean spoke slowly getting to his feet and pulling you with him. You slowly sniffling as you said “I’ll get some cloth, then I’ll help you gather the wood” You started to walk off but Dean grabbed your hand “Baby, I did this” you shook your head and squeezed his hand “No you didn’t” then pulled your hand away to go gather the cloth you’d need to wrap Kevin’s body in.

-------

When you walked back into the library Dean was kneeled next to Kevin and held up the sheet of paper the angel had left on his chest “This was a hit. Someone got him to kill the kid” you knew Dean well enough to know that when faced with any intense emotion most of the time he wrapped himself so deep in anger and self hatred no one could get through. You took the paper out of his hand and slipped it into the pocket of your jeans “We’ll find whoever caused this” he nodded then stood up “I’m gonna go get started on the pyre” he kissed your forehead then walked out. You took a deep breath then laid the cloths down on the floor as everything hit you again.

Kevin was a kid, hell he should’ve been enjoying college at his age not laying dead on the floor of a hidden bunker wrapped into the world he’d been dragged into.  Sam, god Sam was locked inside his own head caused by the two people he trusted most in the world.

You started the process of wrapping Kevin’s body, your hands moving more on muscle memory than your own will. You’d done this one too many times. Whether friends, colleagues or family as with Lena. This life was a cruel one. 

------

You’d just finished when Dean walked back in behind you. “I got him” he easily lifted Kevin up so you followed behind him soundlessly.

The two of you walked into the woods just beyond the bunker where there was a clearing. In the middle of the clearing Dean had built a suitable funeral pyre and gently laid Kevin’s lifeless form onto it. He didn’t say a word as he lit the pyre then stepped over next to you. As the flames flickered to life you felt a chill that had nothing to do with the coolness of the night.

Dean pulled you into his side as you both watched the flames claim yet another person that you had called as family.

------

The walk back to the bunker you could tell from how Dean was holding himself that he was barely holding it together. You didn’t try to reach out to him but when he reached out for your hand you slid it into his.

You followed him into the bunker which suddenly felt so much colder than it ever had then followed him into the library. He stopped and picked up Kevin’s phone off the table and you looked to see a photo of Kevin and Ms Tran as the background. 

The sudden movement of Dean throwing the phone made you flinch. You stepped back watching while he finally broke, shoving all of Kevin’s note and the lore books into the floor then he threw the lamp across the room and finally bounced a chair off the same beam you and him had been held against. You were silent while he let it out then when he looked at you different emotions played across his face before he finally said “Y/N, you need to leave too”

“What?” you gasped and he motioned around “I got the kid killed, Sam’s been hijacked and we may not get him back. If..if something happened to you because of me? I can’t even think about that”  You knew he pushed people away, it’s what he’d always done even to Sam at times so you shook your head “Dean I agreed to let Ezekiel or whoever possess Sam too or are you forgetting that? I’m in this dammit and I’m not leaving. I care too much about you and about Sam to walk away now. I’m not Dean like it or not I’m not leaving you” you could see the muscle in his jaw clench as you spoke then he said “Why? I’m poison”

“No, you’re not. We will get Sam back somehow” you stated letting every bit of anger you felt towards whoever was behind Kevin’s death and this angel hijacking Sam seep into the stubbornness in your voice. “What do you suggest we do then cause sweetheart I don’t know how to fix this” he waved his hand around as he spoke but you remained calm “Can we fix Kevin being killed? No. Can we get Sam back and evict that angelic asshole that’s inside of him? Yes. We call Cas, we gear up and we get on that son of a bitch’s trail”

“I’ll call Cas” he finally sighed and you nodded “I’m going to clean this up” and moved to pick up the books off the floor. He reached to help you but you shook your head “It’s ok Dean, I need to keep my hands busy and we can’t leave until Cas gets here so you go make the call” “I still don’t understand why you’re not heading for the hills but I’m glad you’re not” he confessed pressing a kiss to your cheek before walking out of the room.

Tags: @facadeformyrealblog @akshi8278

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

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

[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]

[poisonivy7]

raya x namaari // chapter 3: raya’s ex-gf returns

ok so i finally finished the last chapter!! here’s chapter 1 and chapter 2 :) i kinda took a twist on @ren-451‘s ideas, but i just wanted to thank them again for their inspo!

i’ll be putting all 3 chapters on ao3 soon! also, i’ve added a little epilogue at the end, so if you guys are interested, i’ll add a sequel <3 thanks for sticking around and reading my (mediocre) writing! enjoy!!

--

Chapter 3:

A few more days passed. It was a Saturday morning and Raya was riding on Sisu over the Heart land, trying to distract herself from the emptiness she’s been feeling over the past couple days since her and Namaari have become even more distant. 

As Raya and Sisu returned back to the ground, she noticed that Namaari appeared to be all packed up and on her way to the stables to get her Serlot. Fang wasn’t supposed to leave until the next morning. 

“You’re leaving so soon?” Raya asked disappointedly, slowly approaching Namaari. 

“Yeah, I should get back to Fang to get the Royal Army prepared, just in case of an ambush.”

“Is that what you want?” Raya asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes? I’ve got to keep Fang’s Royal Army prepared at all times,” Namaari replied, confused.

Raya shook her head. “No, I meant…Is pushing me away and losing our friendship what you want?” Tears were forming in her eyes. The last thing she wanted to happen was to lose Namaari for good, especially after they were finally able to trust each other again.

“I never wanted to push you away, but I just…I just…” Namaari found herself struggling to find the right words to say. She looked down and started fidgeting with her fingers nervously, her palms getting sweaty. She was never like this. She was the princess warrior of Fang, for crying out loud! Why couldn’t she just bring herself to say something, anything?

Raya stepped closer to Namaari, holding both her hands tightly. The feeling of Raya’s soft hands in hers instantly calmed Namaari down. “Tell me what you want,” Raya said boldly, looking back at Namaari.

Namaari was never good with words. Whenever she didn’t know what to say, she would turn to actions to express what she was feeling. However, in that moment, with Raya’s big brown eyes looking into hers, Namaari was frozen. Her heart was racing at Raya’s voice, Raya’s closeness, Raya’s hand gently holding onto hers. Namaari’s throat went dry, and though she kept trying to search for the right words — hell, any words — to say, nothing came to mind. 

“Hmm?” Raya asked, waiting for an answer as she reached up with her free hand to tuck the hair behind Namaari’s ear. 

All Namaari could manage to do was stare back at Raya, entranced by her beauty. Raya eventually figured that Namaari was too lost for words to respond, so the Heart princess pulled the other woman down by her neck and kissed her softly. The kiss ended just as suddenly as it started, leaving Namaari quietly craving for more. Raya pulled away slowly, slightly nervous about what the Fang princess’ reaction would be. 

It didn’t seem like Namaari was upset about the kiss, which Raya was relieved about. “W-What about your girlfriend?” Namaari asked softly once she managed to get her voice back.

Raya shook her head. “I’ve realized that in some ways, I’ve been trying so hard to hold onto some things from the past, that I’ve completely lost sight of the person I want now, in the present moment.”

“I want you too,” Namaari whispered, smiling. She pulled Raya in for another kiss, this time more passionate than the first. 

They pulled away after a few more kisses, both of them with big smiles on their faces. “So will you please stay a few more days?” Raya asked.

“Of course, dep la.”

“Good, so that means that we can go dragon racing! I’ve been wanting to race with you since the dragons returned!” she said excitedly. Before Namaari could speak, Raya added, “Oh yeah, and I have dibs on Sisu, me being the biggest dragon nerd and all.

Namaari rolled her eyes. “I think my necklace that I’m wearing says otherwise,” she responded, looking down at the dragon necklace around her neck.

Raya chuckled. “Whatever you say, dep la. But just know that whatever dragon I’m riding, I’m always going to beat you.”

Namaari got closer to Raya. “Prove it then,” she whispered, which gave Raya chills. Namaari quickly turned and ran toward Sisu to get on her before Raya had the chance.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” a flustered Raya yelled out, chasing Namaari. Raya managed to tackle Namaari down to the sand before she could get on Sisu’s back. “She’s mine!” Raya said laughing, trying to pin Namaari down to the ground. 

Namaari was laughing so hard she didn’t have enough energy to get out from under Raya. After a few minutes, with Raya’s hands holding Namaari��s over her head, the two of them finally managed to stop laughing. “I love you, dep la,” Namaari whispered.

Raya smiled. “I love you too, ‘Maari.”

-- 

Epilogue:

While Raya and Namaari were laughing on the sand, Minh was standing in the bushes nearby, watching them intensely. Her heart was beating faster and faster as anger flooded through her veins. She had waited for this moment — the perfect moment to finally seek revenge on Fang for what they did to her parents and her siblings.

Minh had never truly loved Raya. She heard many rumors about how Raya had wrongfully trusted someone from Fang, which then led to the destruction of the dragon gem and the unleashing of the Druun. Minh was desperate for revenge after her siblings were taken — so much so that she managed to track Raya down and “bump” into her in Talon. She smiled a sly smile as she approached the two princesses, sword in hand. She was finally going to get the revenge she so desperately craved.

Laying underneath Raya, Namaari turned her head as she felt eyes boring into her skull. Seeing the sword Minh was holding and the anger in her eyes, Namaari gently pushed Raya off her, standing up. Confused, the Heart princess turned and saw Minh and quickly realized that she probably saw what was happening between her and Namaari.

“Minh, look, I can explain-“

Minh scoffed. “I don’t care for your explanation. Hell, I don’t care about you at all. I came here for one person and one person only,” she said, her voice shaking as she came closer and aimed her sword at Namaari’s chest.

Sisu, who was still standing a few feet away, slowly approached Minh as she sensed the rising tension in the air. Seeing Sisu out of the corner of her eye, Minh quickly drew out an arrow, stabbing the dragon in the stomach. “Sisu!” Raya yelled out, shocked at how fast everything went down. She ran to the dragon, who was now laying unconscious on the sand.

“Relax, it’s just a tranquilizer. I wouldn’t dream of killing a dragon,” Minh responded, rolling her eyes as she kept her sword pointed at Namaari.

Seeing the anger in Minh’s eyes directed at Namaari, Raya began, “I know you’re angry at Namaari for releasing the Druun, but it was partially my fault too-” but was cut off by the sound of Namaari’s dual swords being drawn.

“Not just that!” Minh yelled angrily. “Fang took my family! My parents and my siblings were innocent and you guys took them away from me!” she added, holding the handle of her sword tighter until her knuckles turned white out of anger.

“Minh-”

“Raya, get out of here. I can handle her. It’s the least I deserve for what I’ve done,” Namaari said softly, looking back at the Heart princess.

They gave each other a knowing look, and then Raya finally nodded and quietly left. She ran to get some Heart warriors to help Namaari just in case. She didn’t want to get her father because she didn’t want to risk losing him again. 

After Namaari knew Raya was out of sight, she said, “Let’s get this over with,” standing in a fighting position. 

Minh smirked. “Don’t underestimate me,” she said in a sing-song voice. She’s been so greedy for revenge that she’s just been consumed with the thought ever since she was twelve years old. She suddenly jumped at Namaari, their blades instantly clashing. Namaari was surprised at how forcefully Minh pushed her back, but she still managed to stand her ground. 

Every blow each one made was met by the other’s sword. Though she hated to admit it, Namaari was struggling to land any kind of hit on Minh’s body or to gain somewhat of an advantage on the other woman. Minh was good. 

Eventually, after Namaari, with only one of her swords in hand, got hold of Minh’s sword and tossed it aside, she thought she had found the perfect opportunity to pin Minh to the ground. However, she regretted it just as she threw Minh to the ground, quickly realizing it turned out to be a trap. While Minh was falling, she pulled her opponent’s sword out of her hand and swiftly hit it against Namaari’s shins, causing her to cry out in pain. 

Minh used that moment of weakness to grab Namaari in a chokehold, putting her own sword up hard against the Fang princess’ neck. It cut into Namaari’s neck, causing her to wince in pain. “Everything bad that’s ever happened in my life is because of Fang! You guys-“ she began choking Namaari harder, causing her to taste blood coming up from the back of her throat. “My parents and siblings are dead now because of you, and I will not let their deaths go in vain!”Minh yelled, tears filling her eyes.

“O-On behalf of F-Fang, I’m sorry,” Namaari managed to croak out painfully.

Minh pulled away slightly, thrown off by what Namaari had said. The Fang princess took the opportunity to worm her way out, but Minh quickly pushed Namaari back down. In order to prevent her from running away, Minh stood up and pressed her shoe into Namaari’s ribs. She groaned, too weak to yell or fight back.

“Namaari!” Raya screamed, who had just arrived with Heart warriors by her side.

[vampiregirl1797]

When You Need a Shoulder to Sleep On

Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Summary: When you return back to work as a profiler with the BAU after being gone for maternity leave, the job is harder than it used to be, being as you’re functioning on little to no sleep and no caffeine. Lucky for you, you have your wonderful husband, Spencer, and your family at the BAU to support you.

 Word Count: 2,642

 Click Here For Masterlist

 It had been fourteen months since I’d had a cup of coffee. While I’d been pregnant, ironically enough I hadn’t noticed the absence of the heavenly hot beverage. But now I was returning to work and functioning on less than three hours sleep? Yeah, I was exhausted. Spencer, my wonderful, loving husband and doting father, bless his soul, had even less sleep. He tended to sleep light anyway, and since the baby had arrived he’s been a little... protective. So it was routine for us both to attend to little baby Gideon Derek together, as neither of us were able to think about sleep until we knew the baby was back down.

 The difference of course was that I was functioning with no caffeinated stimulants to keep my brain working, while Spencer was on his third cup of heavenly goodness since we’d arrived at the Bureau. Which of course meant that I was barely functioning at all.

‘Denise Hernandez was found murdered in her apartment a week ago. She was discovered by her landlord three days later when he went to check on her, after another tenant had voiced their concern.’ Garcia said, the beeping of her pressing the buttons on her beepy echoing throughout the room, ‘there were no signs of sexual assault and the body was in her bed and she was tucked in underneath her own duvet.’

 I blinked, trying to force some energy into my body as I flipped open the file in front of me, detailing the murder Garcia was narrating.

 ‘The unsub wrapped her in plastic underneath the covers to prevent her blood from sleeping through the fabric.’ I voiced aloud as I read it in the report, ‘that indicates that the way he leaves her behind is important to him.’

 ‘That’s true, before the covers were removed she looks asleep.’ Rossi agreed, flicking through the photographs in his own file.

 ‘If that’s the case it’s interesting he doesn’t chose a less gruesome method of murder. If the charade of the victim appearing asleep is so important to him, why go through the trouble of stabbing her twelve times?’ Tara added, taking a sip of her coffee after she spoke.

 I tried not to stare too longingly at the mug, despite knowing that a cup would jolt the energy back into my system.

 ‘If she didn’t live alone I’d suggest it’s done by way of giving him more time before the murder is discovered. It would be a while before anyone realized she was asleep.’ I said, looking over to the enhanced crime scene photos on the screen. There was something bothering me about the whole picture, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

 ‘But since she did live alone it’s more likely that the manner he’s displayed her, as well as the method he’s employed, are both important to him.’ Spencer said, his lips pursed in thought as his eyes quickly moved over the pages in his hand.

 The amount of information his beautiful brain could take in, in such little time, still blew me away after all these years. I’d never get tired of his incredible mind, whether it be the facts he knew and eagerly shared, or the way he excitedly took in new information. He was amazing and so sexy.

 ‘Have there been any other victims?’ Derek asked, his eyes moving from the file in front of him to the colorfully dressed blonde.

 ‘Yes. Danielle Richmond was discovered in her apartment this morning. She lives alone and according to the M.E. She died yesterday, she was discovered quicker than the last victim as she had plans with a friend who called the cops when she didn’t show up or answer her phone.’ She clicked her beeper three more times, bringing up a picture of Danielle and a few pictures from the crime scene.

 ‘They look like they could be twins.’ I noted, both had brown eyes, olive complexions, long brown hair and a slender figure, ‘seems like he has a very specific type in terms of victimology. Either he’s working up to killing someone specific in his life that looks like these women, or someone who looks like her has died and triggered these killings.’

 ‘Those are both things we should keep in mind.’ Prentiss nodded, closing her file, ‘wheels up in ten.’

 //

 ‘There’s something out of place here.’ I murmured, taking a step back with my arms crossed over my chest

 ‘What is it?’ Morgan asked, standing next to me and taking in the room as well.

 ‘I’m not sure...’ I trailed off, my gaze landing on the book next to Danielle’s bed. I walked over and picked it up, reading the title aloud, ‘A book of fairytales. That’s what’s out of place.’

 I pulled out my phone and dialed JJ— her and Alvez were at the other crime scene.

 ‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’

 ‘At your crime scene, are their any novels by the bed?’

 ‘Hang on,’ she said, there was some shuffling over the receiver as I handed the book I was holding to Morgan, ‘yeah there’s a copy of fairytales. Oh my god.’

 Morgan opened the book, he brows lifting in surprise before he turned it around. It was a picture of Snow White dead in her see through coffin, but the victims face had been glued over the cartoon features.

 ‘Can you bring your book back to the station? I think I know what he’s doing.’ I sighed, hanging up my phone and sliding it into my back pocket.

 //

 I smiled as I entered the station, telling Morgan that I’d meet him in the briefing room in a minute after I’d been to the bathroom. Of course he knew I was lying, but he must have sympathized with the dark circles under my eyes because he didn’t call me on it.

 I discretely but firmly grasped my husband’s hand and led him down an unpopulated corridor.

 ‘How are you feeling, honey?’ he asked, pulling me close and rubbing my lower back as I practically melted into his chest. I loved that he didn’t have to ask why I’d commandeered him for a moment alone—I assumed he was used to my clingy behaviour and heightened emotional state when I was so exhausted.

 ‘I’m feeling drained, Spence.’ I sighed, nuzzling into the cotton of his cardigan and relaxing even further at the scents that emitted from the fabric—softener, his cologne and a faint trace of mint from the shower he’d taken earlier that morning.

 ‘If you’re too tired, there’s no shame in saying so. Emily, actually everyone, would understand if you needed a quick power nap, honey.’ He kissed my hair, his other hand resting at the bottom of my neck and rubbing the flesh there—he knew I carried a lot of tension in that particular area.

 A soft groan fell from my lips as he kneaded the knots out of my flesh, my bones practically melting as he continued.

 ‘Hmm,’ I murmured, trying to focus, but it was hard when I felt so calm and relaxed to the point of wanting to sleep, ‘no it’s okay, I’m not that bad yet. I promise.’

 It was something we’d talked about before I’d returned from maternity leave—he knew my stubbornness often led to me pushing myself too far before the baby, and now I was running on no sleep it was likely to get worse due to my heightened emotions. He proposed that we come up with a deal—if I ever felt too tired, or like I needed a few hours to recuperate then I had to tell him and not push myself too far.

 This deal had been proposed after I’d been taking care of our precious baby boy for thirty-six hours straight with no sleep. I’d practically been a zombie when Spence came home from a case and when he’d offered to take the baby so I could get some much needed sleep I’d nearly bitten his head off, insisting I could do it. I’d then promptly burst into tears because I’d snapped at my husband when all he was trying to do was help, and because I was so exhausted and all the emotions chose that moment to break free.

 The next day after I’d slept for twelve hours straight, he’d told me it was common for new mothers to feel like they weren’t doing enough and they often felt like they couldn’t ask for help, even from their spouses. The knowledge had soothed me, as had his assurance that I was doing a good job, and that admitting I needed some time for myself was okay. That’s when he’d made me promise to not push it too far, and it now transferred to the field now I was back at work.

 ‘Okay,’ he kissed my hair again and I lifted my head up, my lips pursed for a kiss. I heard him chuckle lightly before he complied, his lips soft and warm against my own. I sighed, the pleasant zing his lips always inspired shooting through me from my head all the way down to my toes.

 ‘I love you, Spencer Reid.’ I told him, the sparkle and adoration in his eyes made my heart expand in my chest—it’d been like that for five years now and I didn’t see it ever dissipating.

 ‘I love you, Y/N Reid.’ He kissed my forehead and we stayed there for a few moments longer, appreciating the quiet tranquility of the moment before we reluctantly agreed to join the team in the briefing room.

 //

 ‘This unsub is replicating fairytales.’ I said as Morgan opened the book we’d bought back from the crime scene and slid it into the middle of the table so everyone could see.

 ‘Danielle was the replication of Snow White. After we discovered this, we also found an apple underneath her bed that had been bitten into. It was bagged for evidence and they’re going to try and pull the teeth imprints, but my guess is it’s going to be a match to the victim.’ I pulled out a chair, scooting close enough to Spencer so that I could smell his cologne.

 ‘Denise’s death is tied to Sleeping Beauty.’ Alvez slid the book he’d bought back next to the other, ‘we found a miniature spindle wheel underneath her bed next to a few drops of what we assume to be the victims blood. We’ve asked the M.E. To see if there are any wounds on Denise’s fingers that look like they could’ve been made on a spindle wheel.’

 ‘Well this is good, in the sense that we can predict what fairytale the unsub is going to replicate next, but it doesn’t help us with identifying the next victim.’ Tara said, looking over to the clear board at the head of the room, which showcased the crime scene and victim’s pictures.

 ‘There has to be something, other than appearance, that these women have in common.’ Alvez commented, twirling his pen between his fingers.

 ‘And you would be correct, newbie.’ I smiled at the nickname— Alvez had been on the team for almost two years now, yet Garcia still called him that, ‘both women were part of a fairytale online reading club.’

 ‘Are there any other women in the club who look like the first two victims?’ Prentiss asked.

 ‘Great minds think alike my dear Emily, pictures and addresses of the three women who share similar appearances have been sent to your tablets.’

 Our iPad’s beeped before she’d even finished her sentence and we all looked at the pictures, noting their characteristics were eerily similar to Danielle and Denise.

 ‘We should contact the women to warn them and assign them each a protective detail.’ Spence said as I observed the pictures with my lips pursed, hoping I’d have a brain wave and be able to pinpoint a connection. The Sheriff left the room to assign that responsibility to some uniform officers.

 ‘We know who he’s likely going after, but we haven’t figured out why or how he’d have a connection to this—.’ I paused a thought echoing through my brain so astoundingly fast that I felt a little light headed, ‘what if the unsub is a partner to one of these girls? And he’s killing them this way because he resents his partner’s love for this and he’s mocking her?’

 ‘That’s a good idea— maybe one of these girls cheated on him and he’s disparaging her idea of a happy ending?’ Tara added.

 ‘Garcia, have any of these three women recently gotten divorced?’ Spence asked.

 ‘Yes, Regina Kingston, the creator of the book club filed for divorce ten days ago. It hasn’t been finalized yet, but the paperwork was finalized and submitted eight days ago.’ Garcia reeled off, her voice coated with realization.

 ‘That’s the stressor.’ Alvez said as we all begun to stand from around the table.

 ‘Garcia,’ Emily started but our I.T genius cut her off and assured us his name and home address had been sent to us already.

 We all geared up, adding our bullet proof vests and making sure our guns were sufficiently loaded, should they be necessary in his capture. I bit back a yawn as we made our way to the cars—now was not the time to not be one hundred percent focused. We had an unsub to detain, and so I slapped my cheeks a few times during the drive, to make sure I was definitely awake.

 //

 Another yawn fell from my mouth; I’d lost count of how many times I’d done so since we’d got on the jet.

 ‘Woah momma, why are you still awake? I thought you would have dropped off as soon as we got on here.’ Derek commented, his signature smile on his face but the concern in his eyes was just as prominent.

 ‘I tried, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing flashes of the things I need to do when I get home.’ I sighed, though a small bright smile formed on my face when my husband took a seat next to me.

 ‘How is little Gideon Derek?’ JJ asked, taking a seat next to Morgan, ‘do you have anymore pictures?’

 I grinned, my face lighting up at the mention of our little bundle of joy, ‘I have around a hundred new ones I took before we left for this case.’

 I handed her my phone and she scrolled through the images, her smile growing at each new one. Morgan couldn’t help joining in after a while, unable to resist pictures of his godson. I’d caught a glimpse of his home background earlier and I was pretty sure it was the picture JJ had taken of Derek holding the baby for the first time at the hospital. He was a big softie, no matter how hard he tried to appear the opposite.

 I was bought out of my thoughts by Spence’s arm wrapping around my shoulders. I cuddled up into his side, eagerly snuggling into his warmth; I took a deep breath, his familiar and comforting scent relaxing me down to my bones. The voices around me became unfocused as I fell further and further into unconsciousness, the endless list of tasks that had been plaguing me before disappearing now that I was in the arms of my husband. I registered was the low vibration of Spence’s voice as he talked to JJ and Morgan, and the feel of his lips as he kissed my hair. The last thought that filtered through my mind before I surrendered to sleep was how lucky I was to have a husband as amazing as Spencer, a son as wonderful as Gideon and a family as incredible as the people that made up the B.A.U.

 A/N: This one came to me after I watched the episode where JJ returns after maternity leave and has trouble staying awake without being able to drink caffeine. I kind of like how it turned out, I hope you did too!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego x reader

Chapter 4- The Majestic 12

Summary: Although, your wounds are able to heal instantaneously, Diego’s are not and for that he payed the price. In the aftermath of getting shanked, you give Diego some much needed TLC. Now you, Diego, and Five, are on the hunt at some gala for any valuable information, regarding the activities of Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1​ @2cuteforyourlies​ @thatfandombitcch

Sitting next to Diego on the couch, you rip off his bandage, intently listening to Five ramble on about the Vanya situation as you attend to his healing injury.

“So what you just let her go.” Asks Diego surprised.

“Well, Vanya had a lot to process.” He says matter-of-factly. “She’ll come around. I know she will.”

“What about the guys that went after her?” You ask him, while ripping off some medical tape for Diego’s new bandage.

“The Swedes?”

“Yeah, how do you know they won’t go after her again?” You question, taking a cup of hot coffee from Elliot.

“We don’t.”

“Do you have any idea who sent them?” Lila asks Five, taking a sip of coffee from her own cup.

With a knowing smile, Five answers her, “Oh, I have my suspicions.” You guessing it probably has to do with Five’s colorful background coming back to bite him. “But right now, our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, cause everything else depends on it.”

“Which for the record, I found him already.” Diego adds, you hold in a chuckle at how well that interaction went.

“And then let him go before we could have a meaningful conversation.” Sasses Five with that stupid I-know-more-then-you smirk.

“He stabbed me.” Says Diego bluntly, trying to make a point as to why things didn’t go well.

“I’m surprised he waited this long, Diego. We’ve all had the urge.” Jabs Five yet again. Causing you to snort and start laughing out loud along with Lila and Elliot. Getting an offended look from Diego, you turn you face to give him a kiss on his cheek in an attempt at lessening his hurt pride.

“Good thing I know where Dad’s gonna be tonight.” Five says, handing Diego a piece of folded paper.

Reaching across the small coffee table to grab it, he sits down next to you again, holding up the parchment for you to both read. Leaning in, you look at its contents, as Five continues to talk. “Found it at his office while he was busy stabbing you.” Five says sarcastically, as Diego fake laughs.

“Hoyt Hillenkoetter and the Consultant General of Mexico in Dallas cordially invite you to a gala.” Diego reads.

“Whoa, wait. Hoyt Hillenkoetter? Are you serious?” Questions Elliot, apparently knowing something none of you four do.

“You know him?” You ask curious.

“We should go, says there’s gonna be a seafood tower.” Lila adds randomly, having looked it over before, when Five wasn’t looking. You nod to her, looking at Diego. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suite.” You wink, earning a warm smile from him.

“No, Hillenkoetter is...is one of the Majestic Twelve.” Elliot says slightly nervously.

“The hell are the Majestic Twelve?” Questions Diego. As you quickly throw an orange slice in his mouth.

“It’s a...a secret committee. Uh, scientists, militarily, uh, deep state.” Rambles Elliot, walking over to his desk looking for something he continues. “No one really knows what they do.”

Scoffing you add, “Huh, they sound like a blast.”

“Wait, so they’re government?” Diego grunts, trying to sit up better.

“Shadow Government. Yeah, Kennedy was the first President to try to push ‘em into the light, but these guys are not to be trifled with. Oh, here we go. Ah, right here.” Elliot says bringing a photograph over to the four of you. “That’s Hoyt right there.” He points.

Examining the picture you notice only 11 men. “Weird there’s only 11 of them.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve only identified 11 so far.” Adds Elliot.

“Who’s the twelfth?” Diego asks looking at the photograph. You look to Five, raising your eyebrow in that you-thinking-what-I’m-thinking mutual understanding, him doing the same. Oh boy, here we go.

——

Arriving at the gala dressed in your best attire, a slightly uncomfortable dark blue dress and flats. You, Diego, Five, and Lila, hide behind a short brick wall type structure. Each of you peaking your heads over the edge to get a better view of the place full of richly dressed people. Quickly Diego climbs up and over the stones, you three following suit and crouching close to the nearby parked cars.

“So, what’s the plan guys?” Asks Lila quietly.

“Don’t answer that.” You warn Diego. Who ignores you, trying to be the smart tough guy once again. “We infiltrate, we identify, we extract. Double time.” 

“I feel like I’m in a spy movie.” You whisper to yourself.

“What the hell’s he talking about.” Lila asks from behind you turning her question to Five, who’s crouched at the rear of the pack.

“Find the old man and get out fast.” He says smartly.

“That’s what I said.” Diego looks back at them, like what he said before wasn’t obvious enough.

“Alright 007, lets go.” You say, touching is shoulder and pushing ever so slightly for emphasis. Turning forward he crouch walks to the next car, you trailing him. Suddenly your ears catch the conversation between Lila and Five a couple cars over. You raise your eyebrow at Five’s untrustworthiness towards Lila, amused by their little conversation. Now that you think about it, you have assumed some odd shit could be up with her, but you’ve been playing along this whole time. Not wanting to state the obvious yet, you needed more time and suspicious proof first of any false behavior.

——

Walking into the wealthy looking establishment, you take a drink off a waiters tray. Giving it a sniff, before taking a small sip enjoying the fizzy liquid sliding down your throat. “I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego says, looking around the room full of wealthy strangers.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs.” Five tells you three, alcoholic beverage already in hand. “Diego, try not to do anything stupid. Y/N, watch him.” He adds, walking away. As Lila walks off towards the seafood table.

You sniff the air, trying to catch a familiar scent, maybe if old Reggie really is here, you’d be able to smell his stupid suffocating cologne. A second later trumpets start to play to a well known tune. You suddenly feel the urge to dance, excited now that your old dance partner’s back. Walking through the crowd while pulling on Diego’s tie, you lead him to the dance floor.

Diego pulls you to him, trying to gain control of the situation unfolding before is very eyes. The two of you are almost eye to eye with each other, as you hold onto one another closely. As the mariachi band continues to play, Diego twists you around, your back now to him. He lets his hands trail down your sides without so much as single protest from you, you’re enjoying this way to much. You twirl grabbing his hands before he can go any lower. Your hands wander up to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably caressing your lower back. “Someone’s got moves.” You look up at him stating the obvious.

“Well the old man did insist on making us take those ballroom dancing lessons.” He looks at you lovingly before continuing, now mimicking Sir Reginald’s voice. “One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death...” “children” You both smile, saying the last part together as Diego dips you.

“My turn.” You say while giving him a mischievous grin. Pulling yourself up with Diego still holding you close, you take the lead. Surprising him in the process, much to your amusement.

“What are you doing?” He asks, taken aback at your sudden dominance.

“Just follow my lead.” You saying smiling sweetly at him.

“Uh, Y/N, no. I’m the man here.” Diego says dazed by the abrupt change in the dance positioning, you smirk at him, thoroughly enjoying how you’ve taken him off guard.

Grabbing his hands you smoothly twist him around so his back is now to you. Using your left hand you touch his cheek, hastily bringing his undivided attention straight to your own beaming face. Quickly giving him a kiss before pushing his face away once more, twirling him around, and positioning yourself back to how you two first began. With his right hand on your hip and your left on his shoulder, you two holding hands and swaying to the music. He pulls you in closer to his chest, your faces inches apart as you turn your head to laugh into his broad shoulder. You can feel him kiss the side of your face as he smoothly sways you to the music, he follows your gaze as you adjust yourself to look up into his chocolate eyes.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have found you again.” He gives you another chaste kiss in reply.

“Sorry you had to wait for my ass for so long, if I would have known you were in Dallas.” You let out a small laugh, biting your lip to hold in a smile as he continues to sway you around to the festive music.

“Instead you got yourself arrested within the first day of being here. I don’t know if I should be impressed or not....Diego Hargreeves you are truly...something.” His face breaks out into an embarrassed smile as he leans his head down onto your shoulder to hide his redness, only you would be able to make him lose his cool, and so easily at that. He picks his head up once again to stare adoringly into you bright eyes, his eyes flickering down to your parted lips for a fraction of a second. Your face breaks out into a Cheshire Cat-like grin at the absolute wonderful cuteness of Diego. 

“So how’d I do last night? Since you know, it’s been awhile for you. I think I still got it Y/N.” He says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, you roll your eyes at his implication of last nights love-making, he’s so bold.

“Satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory? Babe I think I was really doing a great job. You sure looked like you agreed at the time.”

“Okay fine. You were incredibly stunningly marvelous, a perfect 10 out of 10. The review says she would do it again.” He smiles in deep satisfaction at your praising of his more intimate talents. You just give him a slight half annoyed eye roll, only you two would be scoring each other on how well your I-missed-you sex was.

When you look up at his face again, he isn’t smiling anymore, attention now snagged by some shinier fish. You twist your neck right, following his distracted gaze. “It can’t be.” He whispers in disbelief, breaking away from you to go see... Grace. Letting him go, you silently follow him, hiding behind a white pillar as you eves drop onto their conversation. Holy shit, Grace was a real person and she was Sir Reginald’s frickin date, you thought to yourself almost as shocked as Diego probably is. You listen more intently, and cackle at the comment Grace gives Diego about being a little odd. You’re definitely not wrong about that, you’d like to tell her.

Watching Grace walk past you and towards who knows where, you come out from behind the pillar to face Diego, who’s standing there with his arms folded, looking rather lost. “Well that went swimmingly.” You quip.

Diego breaks from his thoughtful trance, rolling his eyes as he walks on over to you, taking your bent arm in his. “I guess we should probably find Lila, huh.” He adds. “Perhaps we shall.” You say in a posh English accent, giving him a wink as he lets out a breathy laugh at your theatrics.

——

Leaning against the wall, watching as the other party-goers make boring conversation with each other. You push yourself off the marble surface and begin walking towards Diego, who’s obliviously looking at a chandelier like an intrigued child. Right on cue, you hear a thud coming from up above you and then aggressive shuffling around. Five is the strongest guess most likely, and someone else. Hearing a quiet “Oh, shit.” Coming from Five you decide it’s probably best to not leave him hanging.

Turning to Diego, while also unknowingly gaining the attention of Lila. You whisper yell for him to follow you up the stairs to Five’s rescue. Racing up the steps in record time with Diego not far behind you. You look to your right, noticing in surprise that Five’s in a bit of a scuffle with one of the blonde Swedes that tried shooting you, Diego, and Lila earlier. Stopping for a brief moment, not entirely sure what to do as this is indeed very odd. You hear footsteps quickly approaching from behind you, smelling the scent of sweat and anger in its wake.

A second later you hear Diego yell out your name in distress as your hair is pulled back and a belt is tightly wrapped around your windpipe. Getting dragged back down the hallway, completely taken off guard, you struggle to breath as your eyes go wide in astonishment. Your gaze shifts to Diego, as he angrily sprints to you, charging at the taller Swede who’s about to gut punch you with brass knuckles. Fuck.

Bracing yourself, ready to get the wind knocked out of you. Diego heroically pushes the guy into the wall, punching him hard in the face. Your throat is suddenly released, only for the shorter Swede to turn you around and crack you across the side of your head with his belt. Kicking you out of the way and across the floor you tumble, your head stinging in pain. Dazed, from the not even 20 second violent actions you just got shoved into. You get up from the floor feeling a hot liquid running down the side of your face. Touching your temple, you pull your hand away to unveil deep red blood coating your fingers. This bitch is dead.

You look up instantly to watch in dismay as Diego is currently getting his ass whooped by the two pissed off Swedes. The one that was previously choking you, is now suffocating Diego with that fucking leather belt. After getting punched in the stomach by brass knuckle Swede, Diego kicks him to the ground, still struggling with the first who’s still doing his damn best to suffocate him. Grabbing a knife previously hidden in his pocket, he throws it with his free hand. Missing his target in the heat of the moment, which was intended to hit the other large Swede that’s beating the shit out of Five further down the hallway.

Fuming, with the rage of a bull at the manhandling you just unwillingly received. You rush forward throwing your right arm around the blonds throat that’s currently choking Diego. Pulling down hard, the Swede releases him, now struggling to breath from your own violent attack. The tables have turned, bitch. You aggressively throw him into the wall, kicking him hard in the stomach as you send him thrashing onto the carpeted floor.

Turning quickly to the sound of pained grunts, you watch as Diego gets punched in the stomach with the brass knuckles you so marvelously avoided. You catch sight of Lila, who looks to both of you before turning to Five and running to his aid. Alright then.

Only letting yourself get distracted for a moment, you turn back to your new little fighting buddy, who’s now standing and looking very enraged.

“Let’s dance.” You hiss at him with a bitter smirk, clenching your fists.

Hearing the sound of glass breaking behind you, you ignore it. As you face the blonde Swedish assassin, dodging a heated swing, you bring your left arm up to sucker punch him right in the guts. You turn around swiftly to face him again, only to receive a hard blow to your shoulder. He’s good, but not good enough. He goes to kick you in the legs, missing by an inch as you pull back just in time. Realizing he still has his belt clutched in his right hand, he cracks it at you with lightning speed. Time slows for a second as your senses begin to take over, giving you better reaction time. You turn to the right and watch as the shining silver of the belt buckle shows you your own distorted reflection. Catching the makeshift weapon mid-throw, you grab it tightly with your left fist. Pulling him towards you in the process, you then reach out and tightly seize his throat with your right hand. Throwing the leather belt off to the side and growling fiercely at his surprised face, you lift him up an inch or two off the ground. Struggling to breath and find his footing again, he suddenly shoots his arms up directly into your right one, that’s currently strangling him. You drop him, yelping in surprise at the sudden pain. Quickly gaining his bearings back, he jumps up on the wall for support, as he speedily throws himself at you, sucker punching you right in the cheekbone. Fucking ouch. Stumbling back from the aggressive hit to your face, you both begin intensely throwing punches at each other, getting a hit in here and there, while also managing to block most of his advances. Who knew you’d be reuniting with your lost lover and fighting Swedish assassins at a gala this week. Things have been weirder, you think, focusing back on the task at hand, literally. Grimacing in pain at the hit you just received to your shoulder, you jump up, kicking him into the wall and leaving a small dent. Slightly disoriented, he gets up again, blocking another one of your knee thrusts heading straight for his junk. Sometimes you fight dirty, okay. Throwing your left arm up to block a hit, you take this opportunity to twist yourself around to the right in a quick circle. Jutting your right elbow directly into the Swedes temple, knocking him unconscious. That’s right fucker, nighty night.

Your ears tune promptly to the sound of broken glass yet again, and the sound of Diego’s grunts mixed with that of the angry Swede he is currently fighting. You watch as they fight dirty, picking up whatever objects they could get their hands on as they continue to beat each other up down the hallway. Knocking blondie out with an impressive hit to his head, Diego looks out the window spotting Reginald and Grace standing outside ready to go home. You catch where his eyes are looking, observing the scene of them together for yourself.

You hear Diego whisper a soft, “Dad” before turning to you, worriedly looking at the stream of blood coming from the side of your hairline.

Pointing to the bloody spot you flash him a small smile. “You should see the other guy.”

Smiling briefly, he nods at you while turning towards the stairs and walking quickly down them, you right behind him. As the two of you make your way through the bustling crowd, right out the doors, and through the grass to the front entrance where Five is shouting something in another language at a retreating car.

“Was that him?” Diego questions.

“Yeah.” Five says, sounding like he’s out of breath.

“Jesus, it’s just one thing after the other” You add irritated. Fed up with all this Hargreeves nonsense. Especially those fucking Swedes.

[ilguna]

pyrrhic (Finnick Odair)

summary; Rosecelli protects herself and Finnick from traitors in their group.

warnings; swearing, murder and heavy gore.

wc; 1.5k

NOTES; FROM THIS BLURB THAT’S BASED OFF OF THIS SERIES.

double notes; listened to THIS song while writing.

--

“We can’t trust them, Peeta.” The words are clear as day, “You saw what they can do, how (Y/n) killed in the cornucopia. If they live, we won’t make it home.”

“Katniss, they saved me. You saw it yourself, Finnick pulled me from the water and saved me after the forcefield. They’re not bad.”

“The girl is.” Katniss insists, “You can’t tell me I’m wrong. The way she won in her games… the Training Center and her score… Peeta, we either run or we kill her and blame it on someone else.”

You settle on your back, now. Your fingers dance along the leaves while you’re making noise, and you end up finding your knife right where you left it. Buried in the dirt to keep it from hurting you, but still within hands reach. 

The talking pauses for a moment, you think that they’re worried you’ve woken up. They wait a while, not saying anything. When they speak again, it’s below a whisper, even quieter than it was before. But since the jungle is so dead, you’re able to hear their words as clear as day. As if the gamemakers purposely killed all the insects to make sure that the Twelve tributes would be heard.

“We should do it now.”

“Katniss…” Peeta trails.

“You want to go home, don’t you? You want me to go home?”

It’s manipulative, you can feel the tension in the air, and hear the moment that Peeta caves. There’s a quiet sigh that comes from him.

“Do we wait a little while longer, or do we do it now?”

“Wait half an hour.” Katniss says, “Make sure they’re asleep. We kill (Y/n) and Finnick if we have to.”

“What about Mags?”

“Mags…” Katniss trails off, “We can leave her.”

“She’s not going to come with us.”

“We leave her in the jungle.” Katniss clarifies, “We run. She won’t last long on her own, but I don’t want to kill her.”

Conversation drops off, the cicadas go back to their noise. You end up pressing your thumb against the blade of the knife, not wanting to doze off in this time. After traveling all day, running uphill and sweating, you’ve run yourself dry. You’re exhausted, and you nearly passed out the second you laid down. You’re glad you decided to wait it out to make sure nothing suspicious is going on.

Both Peeta and Katniss taking up watch? Right.

Katniss and Peeta don’t speak again until the thirty minutes is almost over. 

“I’ll get (Y/n). Focus on Finnick.” Katniss whispers.

Your heart starts to beat in your chest. If Peeta even dares to lay his fucking hands on Finnick, you’ll make sure to draw out his death. No one will be touching Finnick like that. 

No one.

You move the knife around in your hand, gripping the hilt. You can hear the shuffle of the leaves as they get closer. Katniss is clearly right over you, you can hear the scrape of the metal arrow against the metal base of the bow. Peeta seems to have stopped a step or two back, his breathing is heavy, he’s not very quiet on his feet.

You remember this during their games. Katniss is a hunter, an illegal one. She’s been hunting in the woods her entire life, has learned to be quiet on her feet. The shuffling must have been Peeta, who’s never really had to be quiet in his entire life. 

Unfortunately for Katniss, you know your ins and outs of using a bow. You’re a pretty good bowsmith yourself. You know the moment she inhales, she’s ready to let the arrow fly.

You spin towards her feet right as the arrow hits where you were a moment before. You’re on your feet by the time Katniss has another arrow loaded. You hit the bow up, aiming towards the star-filled sky. The arrow shoots at a diagonal angle, it won’t be falling onto anyone.

The blade of the knife is facing your forearm, and you swing the hand as if you’re going to punch her. When really, you’ve slit her throat. The blood squirts, hot and sticky and in your mouth, running down your face. You kick Katniss’ leg, making her buckle. Her hands have flown to her throat, coating in red as she tries to stop it.

You turn to Peeta next before he can have his go at you. His eyes are locked on Katniss for a moment, completely mortified by the sight of his lover drowning in her own blood. It’s easy to take him down, you sit on his hips, raising the knife above your head.

“You think you could kill me?” you snarl, spitting Katniss’ blood all over his face, “Fuck you.”

He reaches up, thinking you’re going to stab his head, but you slam it into his heart. His mouth opens, eyes popping wide, falling limp. The cannon is immediate, there’s no chance he survived.

You ditch the knife, slipping off of Peeta’s body as you pull your sword from the grass. You turn back to Katniss, still alive, eyes wide, mouth gaping. It looks like she’s begging for you to spare her, trying to apologize for something that she can’t take back.

You will not be killed by a pair of tributes from District Twelve of all places. Filthy fucking miners. Their district has always been fucking useless and a laughing stock. Here they are, proving that they’re nothing but that, yet again.

You swing the sword in your hand, pointing it right at her chin, “Who can’t you trust?” you mock, stomping your foot into her stomach.

Blood and air fly from her mouth, face turning blue from suffocation.

“Fucking pigs,” you snarl, “Nothing but scum on the bottom of my pretty shoes.”

There’s tears in her eyes, hands shaking on her throat.

“Come on Katniss, let me hear you say it. Who can’t you trust?” You balance the sword over her heart. She chokes, still no words forming on her lips, “It’s you, Katniss. You’re the fucking traitor.”

You push the sword in, leaning into it to watch the light leave her eyes. Another cannon sounds, signaling her death. You sigh, letting out all the air you were holding onto.

“What…?” you hear.

You look over your shoulder, eyes finding an awake Finnick and Mags in the darkness. You can hardly see them, but with the moonlight it’s easier. Finnick’s wide-eyed, staring at the bodies of your former allies. Mags has got her lips pressed together, her age is showing here.

“I just saved us, the correct reason is ‘thank you’.” you pull the sword from Katniss’ chest, “Go ahead and go back to sleep, I’ll take care of this.”

You wipe the sword on Katniss’ suit, and then toss it off to the side. You strip the quiver of arrows off of Katniss’ body and set it beside her bow. Finnick and Mags refuse to go back to sleep, and they watch your every move. How you sit Katniss’ limp body up, lean down and get her over your shoulder without a noise of complaint.

You walk some distance into the trees, and then drop her body onto the ground with no regard of what might happen. You walk all the way back to the camp to see that Finnick’s being helpful like he normally is. 

Frustrated, you grab him and make him face you, “I said go to sleep.”

“You can’t get Peeta on your own.”

“It’s not your problem. I killed them, I’ll put their bodies elsewhere. Go to bed.”

You let go of him, and repeat the process that you did to Katniss, with Peeta. Once his body is sat up, it takes you a moment to get him onto your shoulder, since he’s much wider and heavier. But the moment you’re on your feet, it’s easy to carry him. You dump his body right on top of Katniss’.

When you come back to camp, Finnick’s got a woven cup made out of tree leaves made for you, filled with water from Katniss’ sponsor gift. You drink it through, and then push Finnick to lay down next to Mags. With how tense he is, it’s going to be impossible to get him to sleep. And if you’re not going to be energized tomorrow, he needs to be.

Without speaking to him, you decide to fall back on a tactic that your mother normally did when you had restless nights of insomnia. Your fingers carefully comb through his hair, being gentle when it comes to tangles. At first, it’s gross, especially with how much you’ve been sweating all day, but you get used to it eventually.

You listen and watch as the hovercraft comes in, collecting the bodies from the Twelve tributes. They’re gone for good. You can finally relax.

Mags falls asleep relatively quickly. And considering the circumstances, so does Finnick. No matter what happens, you don’t stop running your fingers through his hair.

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 20

An arranged-marriage story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13  Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 20 Now

Xichen could not have guessed that the Ikarahu would throw a festival in an army encampment in the middle of a war. It seems so dangerous for so much of the army to be distracted. And yet here he is in the transformed sparring arena, surrounded by hundreds of people eating spicy meat grilled in huge open pits, drinking the sweet Ikarahu ale, dancing in pairs and circles, and singing boisterous, noisy songs. Any watching scout could see that there are brightly striped flags, strands of bells, and colorful lanterns looped over ropes suspended between posts around the outside of the arena. Xichen suspects the lanterns mean this festival will extend long into the night, and he tries to squelch the nagging concern.

After all, it is a party. It’s supposed to be fun.

Xichen had helped Huaisang hang lanterns for what felt like years, and Huaisang had explained that the festival was called Hatapi, a celebration of the ahuti’s birthday. The ahuti was considered a valued ruler as well, and the Hatapi was a chance to thank them.

“But really, it’s just an excuse to eat and drink,” he’d said, completely seriously. “Who doesn’t love that?”

When Xichen had asked how he had time to plan a festival, Huaisang had just laughed and said it was a yearly event, which gave him plenty of time.

“Right now Hatapi celebrates my mother’s birthday, but it used to be my grandfather’s birthday. And before that, my great-grandmother. It’s always celebrated on the birthday of the ahukau’s spouse,” Huaisang had winked. “Eventually, Hatapi will be on the eighth of…”

Xichen had slapped a hand over Huaisang’s mouth and refused to let him finish that sentence.

Even after Huaisang’s descriptions, Xichen hadn’t fully expected the sheer chaos of the day. It’s riotous and loud and full of surprises. There have been strength and skill contests all day: sword fights, hurling giant logs, foot races, even a surprisingly early drinking contest. Every winner gets a trophy and an enthusiastic clap on the back from Mingjue, and it pleases Xichen that it’s hard to tell which the winners prefer.

At the moment, Xichen, Qingyang, and Guangyao are watching the last contest of the day, the mounted archery competition, which Xichen has to admit is spectacular. More than fifty of the finest archers in the Ikarahu cavalry are riding without saddles or bridles in a tight circle, bows drawn, shooting arrow after arrow into bales spaced around the outside of the circuit. The judges, including Huaisang and Mingjue, are on the other side of the arena, both standing on horses, presumably for the vantage, which raises questions Xichen has never thought he would ask.

Guangyao sniffs. “It hardly seems like a challenge. They’re just riding in a circle.”

“Huaisang says the second half is more impressive.” Qingyang shrugs. “There are bonus points for style, but I don’t know what that means.”

They know immediately when the real competition begins. One by one, the riders take a circuit of the arena, making impossible shots as they stand on their horses or cling to the bellies of their horses or drop to the ground and bounce lightly off their toes to turn backward or dangle across the side of their horses to shoot from under their necks, hidden from view, all while galloping full speed. Xichen has simply never seen anything like it. He’s not sure there even is anything like it.

“My mother would have loved this,” Qingyang sighs, softly enough that Xichen almost doesn’t hear her above the din around them. “She missed the galio of her homeland more than anything else, I think. I’m sorry she never went back to Ikara before she died, but I’m glad I had as many years with her as I did.”

His own mother’s death is still a sharp pain in his side, but Qingyang doesn’t seem as unhappy as Xichen would expect. She looks at him with a wistful smile, one that seems to want to share this memory, so he ventures to ask, “When did she die?”

“Two years ago, before the Ikarahu came,” she answers, and Xichen squeezes her shoulder. So recently. He is amazed that she’s willing to talk about it.

She smiles at him, a bravely crooked tilt, and Xichen suddenly wants to tell her. To tell someone. Maybe sharing the pain will release it. Holding it tightly certainly has not.

“My mother died when I was twelve. Of a wasting sickness,” he says, and Qingyang makes a sympathetic noise. “I have always wished I had more time.”

Qingyang nods. “There is never enough, is there? I will always want to see her face again or hear her call me a-Yang. She was an artist too, and I was fortunate to work with her for years, until her fingers were no longer agile enough for fine details. The only comfort is that she didn’t have to…” Qingyang exhales sadly. “She didn’t have to know why I left Lanling.”

Guangyao is quiet and seems to be caught up in watching the last rider, a slim, short man who rides the circuit in constant motion. He is nearly a blur, bouncing off the ground, sliding under the horse’s belly to pop up on its other side, slinging under the horse’s neck, flipping backward, and somehow still shooting arrows. The crowd roars when he takes top honors and Mingjue bounds over to present him with the prize, a huge gold bowl filled with water that the man shares with his horse.

“My mother is dead too,” he announces, the words slicing cleanly through the noise of the crowd.

For once, Guangyao doesn’t seem to be trying to hide the emotion in his voice. He sounds as though he has been brutally stabbed in a wound that had not yet healed. When Xichen looks at him, there is such animosity on his face, his eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw clenched so tightly, Xichen can almost hear his teeth grinding together.

“Since you didn’t ask,” he says, his lips flattening into a tense slash. “I was seven when I found her. She wrote that she was sorry, as though she had something to apologize for.”

Xichen reaches out instinctively to slide his fingers around Guangyao’s tense hand, wanting to erase this terrible tragedy, this horror that still haunts his friend.

“Aitapaho, Qingyang, Yao-ti!” Mingjue’s booming voice interrupts, and Xichen jumps as though he’s been caught peeking at something forbidden, as though he’s been caught doing something forbidden.

Mingjue kisses Xichen firmly, with all the enthusiasm of a man thoroughly enjoying his life, but not before Xichen sees the quick, appraising look Huaisang gives him and Guangyao.

Guangyao sees it too, and laughs, the sound higher and more strident than usual. “We were only bonding, Oringa’anhu Ikira. Over stories of our dead mothers.”

He takes a deep, bracing breath as though he will say something else, something even worse, and Xichen is suddenly afraid of what it might be. Guangyao seems like a mirror about to shatter and slash whatever might be near it.

Huaisang grabs Guangyao’s wrist and interrupts him with a teasing grin. “Guangyao, you were wrong about the winner, so I am claiming your forfeit. You are required to learn the next dance. Ani?”

Guangyao frowns. “You didn’t tell me his horse was a galau, so I think you should forfeit,” he argues, but he lets Huaisang pull him toward the dancers.

Mingjue laughs and kisses Xichen again. He tastes like winter mint and joy, and Xichen lets it distract him. Mingjue can always distract him.

“Come, aitapaho. We will eat and drink and dance!”

Only part of that sounds enjoyable, and Xichen shoots Qingyang a pleading look, but she laughs at him too, shooing him away cheerfully as Titakau joins her. Friendship is not what it used to be, he thinks. He will have to get revenge later.

There is no reason he should not be able to learn this foot kicking, jumping, spinning dance, Xichen thinks crossly, but he is growing increasingly irritated with the frequency his feet get caught together, and he trips, falling against Mingjue, who only catches him with curious, roving hands. Finally, Xichen throws up his hands in exasperation.

“Ahoraho, I am going to watch,” he yells over the music, singing, and shouts of laughter.

In answer, Mingjue grabs Qingyang’s hand and drags her into the circle where she, Xichen notes enviously, picks up the steps almost immediately. Titakau silently hands Xichen a bottle of ale and he takes a drink.

“Roka iko auha em koni,” she tells him sympathetically, “Pia ei sakona auha em ga. Et taka ti eta engati hako.”

She’s right about that much. It is fun to watch. There are two lines of dancers, one on the inside, one on the outside. The two circles turn, flicking their heels in the air, kicking forward and backward, spinning from the inside line to the outside line, changing partners and changing back. It seems random and reminds Xichen of spinning maple seeds that flutter from the tops of trees in gusts of autumn wind.

Xichen catches sight of Huaisang, whose face is alight with mirth, and Guangyao, who looks—not quite angry anymore. Begrudging, perhaps. Huaisang leans in to say something and Guangyao rolls his eyes, but his expression softens. Huaisang tips his head back and laughs, suddenly spinning Guangyao toward Mingjue who catches his hand smoothly, exchanging it for Qingyang’s. Mingjue’s grin is impossible to resist, and a smile, one with dimples that reaches his eyes, settles on Guangyao’s face, and he shakes his head with a reluctant laugh. Mingjue’s face, which Xichen knows so well, shifts just slightly, from watchful hawk to satisfied cat, and he ruffles Guangyao’s hair as the song seems to finally end.

Xichen wonders. He wonders if Huaisang and Mingjue worked together to coax Guangyao out of his bleak mood. He wonders why. He wonders if there is something else here, a more complicated set of steps here than Xichen can comprehend.

As the night wears on, the crowd grows ever larger, including nearly every member of the Ikarahu encampment. Ale flows freely, the food tastes even more delicious grilled over huge open fires, and Mingjue convinces Xichen to try dancing again. It does not go any better than his first try, and in retaliation, Xichen trods on Mingjue’s toes. This is also unsuccessful, as Mingjue merely stops dancing and wraps his arms around Xichen, kissing him until his knees are weak and he forgets the whirling, swirling tumult around him.

“I’m ready for bed,” Xichen whispers to Mingjue.

Mingjue tightens his embrace and rests his forehead against Xichen’s. “After fireworks?” he asks hopefully.

Xichen nods, unable to resist the sweet, boyish grin. He traces one dimple with his thumb and Mingjue inhales, turning his face to Xichen’s palm. Xichen slips his fingers over Mingjue’s ear, into his hair, down the strong line of neck, and Mingjue sighs.

“Or now,” he says, voice husky, and Xichen chuckles.

“Now,” he agrees, taking Mingjue’s hand and leading him back through the crush of people where they run directly into Huaisang and Guangyao.

“Anakau! Xichen!” Huaisang hands Mingjue a bottle. “You have not toasted our mother with me! It’s tradition!”

Thwarted, Xichen can do nothing but take the bottle Guangyao offers him and raise it.

“Di ika gati,” Huaisang and Mingjue say the obviously familiar words together. “Sika galio, em inga oduna!”

Shaking his bottle at Guangyao and Xichen, Huaisang repeats the whole thing again, to long life, swift horses, and blue skies, until they join in.

Huaisang and Guangyao finish their bottles, and Xichen hands Mingjue the rest of his. He already feels lightheaded, and he doesn’t want to be drunk.

“What is your mother like?” Guangyao asks, surprising everyone. He looks like he regrets his words, though, and tenses as if preparing to run. “Does she enjoy this festival?”

Huaisang furrows his brow and answers the second question first.

“She endures it because my father loves it. Truly, she is the most generous person I know and the most terrifying.” An unconscious smile tilts his mouth. “She’s clever and stubborn and ambitious. She is not a soft mother, but she is wonderful. She would have been an exceptional ahukau, but she doesn’t like…” he looks at Mingjue for confirmation, “Being in the front of the room?”

“She is called Kiri’anata,” Mingjue offers. “It means…” He wiggles one hand and uses his other hand to move it around.

Huaisang laughs. “It means Shadow Hand,” he fills in, and Mingjue nods agreement.

Guangyao looks unusually confused. “It is known that she rules from behind your father?”

Huaisang shrugs. “They rule together, as partners. It’s not one or the other. They’re necessary to each other.”

Xichen can’t imagine what it must be like to have parents who love and respect each other. Who value each other.

He looks at Guangyao, who is staring at the ground, his expression a wholly neutral, blank mask Xichen recognizes from wearing it so often himself. Like now, when he is trying not to think of the treaty that forced Mingjue into this relationship or now, when he is trying not to think about what it means that Mingjue is the crown prince of his country and he is only Xichen.

“She is loved for who she is,” Mingjue adds, threading his fingers through Xichen’s.

“She is,” Huaisang agrees. “All the good and the difficult. Sometimes so difficult.” Huaisang’s eyes dance, and he laughs lightly, but he is watching Guangyao’s pensive, unchanging expression.

Huaisang is always watching everyone, Xichen thinks. Whatever he’s looking for, whatever it means to him, it’s too great a mystery for Xichen to puzzle out today. There is something else he would rather be doing.

“We’re leaving,” Xichen announces and turns, pulling Mingjue behind him. He looks back once to see Guangyao finally look up and meet Huaisang’s eyes without flinching.

The fireworks begin just before they reach Xichen’s tent, and the explosions reverberate through him, numbing his fingers and toes. Mingjue slows, intending to watch, but Xichen pulls him on, tugging off his coat before they’re even in the tent.

“Xichen,” Mingjue murmurs, cupping Xichen’s face in his hands, gentle as always. “What was your mother like?”

It isn’t what Xichen expected, but he says the first thing, the easiest, truest thing.

“She was beautiful.”

Xichen pauses and thinks. He seldom talks about his family. He rarely even talks about his former home. It has seemed like a necessary separation of the two halves of his life. And until now, Mingjue has never asked.

Xichen chooses this, too. He can not have a future without sharing his past.

“She told us stories of monsters and heroes. Stories of carp who became dragons, tigers who granted wishes,” Xichen says, smiling at the memories. “We played the guqin together. She was a healer. When we were boys, she taught my brother and I how to befriend the rabbits in the woods, although my brother was always more patient than me. Only the bravest rabbits would let me feed them.”

Mingjue laughs. “Ani, you are very fearsome, my bright heart.” He kisses Xichen’s forehead softly, lingering in the embrace. “Huan, will you tell me one of these stories?”

What can he do but agree? Xichen undresses Mingjue, and Mingjue undresses him, and they lay together in bed, legs tangled, Mingjue’s head on Xichen’s shoulder. Xichen tells him a story of a magical carp who granted bigger and more magnificent wishes to a man and his wife until the last wish was too greedy, too selfish, and the carp took everything away again.

“Tiras mau, Ahora’ipa,” Mingjue says drowsily, and Xichen smooths a hand over his hair and down his shoulder, listening to the sound of his breathing even out into sleep.

Love is such a surprise, he muses before he, too, falls asleep. It is a wonderful and perplexing surprise. Whatever their future holds, if he were to repeat the past, he would gladly pledge his heart and life, his honor and obedience to this man again, even if only in a treaty and not a true marriage contract. It is enough. Xichen curls deeper into the safety of Mingjue’s arms feeling lucky to have this much of him, his love and affection, and he will not wish for more, in case there comes a day he wants too much, and it is all taken away again.

Notes: Ahuti = The ahuti is the consort of the ahukau. It's gender neutral (as is ahukau). Roka iko auha em koni. Pia ei sakona auha em ga. Et taka ti eta engati hako. = I don't dance either, and I grew up with it. It's fun to watch, though.

[storiesforallfandoms]

facing it alone ~ 10k;z nation

word count: 2537

request?: yes!

@colsondaddybakerxx​​ “Yeah.. is it okay if you use my name? It’s Alison (it’s okay if you can’t) and she spent mostly all of the apocalypse alone but then she runs into the crew (basically the main characters in z nation) and they helped her and toke her in, then she Mets 10k.. at first he really shy but when he opens up to her she realizes they both have a lot in common?? And he very very protective over her, making sure no zombies is even close to her and protecting her mostly all the time.. and eventually he asks her out? Pls try and add some zombie scenes haha x also if it’s to hard to get all the crew in the story it’s okay.. just at least add doc and warren xx”

description: after facing the zombie apocalypse alone for some time, alison ends up running into some survivors, and finds herself bonding with the youngest of the crew

pairing: 10k x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of death

masterlist

Facing the zombie apocalypse alone was much easier than having to face it with people. Being with people was just asking for heartbreak. Eventually they would die, whether it be of old age or other causes, and then they’d turn into a zombie and have to be mercied before they turned completely. Too much emotion, that’s the last thing you wanted during the apocalypse.

That’s why I travelled alone, except for the German Sheppard I found not too long after I started travelling alone. He was the only companionship I really needed, plus I managed to train him to detect when Zs were coming and to be able to fight against them himself.

It had been days since our last meal, and since we last found decent shelter, and I could tell both of us were starting to feel it. I hadn’t slept in days, I only had a few small foods that I was had to share with Hunter and they were starting to become scarce. I had no idea when we’d find another place to stay, or when we’d find food. For the first time in a very long time, I was genuinely afraid that things were going to end for me soon.

Hunter stopped suddenly and started to growl. Without hesitation, I positioned my gun to point towards where Hunter was looking. I waited to hear the familiar growling of a Z and to see one starting to approach, however I was shocked when I saw that it wasn’t a Z, but a totally healthy human, also with a gun raised and pointed at me.

“Hey!” came a female voice. “Are you bitten or otherwise unhealthy?”

“No ma’am!” I responded. “Yourself?”

“Not that I know of.”

I slowly started to lower my weapon. Hunter was still on high alert, although now he wasn’t growing at much. “Go check her out, boy, make sure she’s not dangerous.”

Hunter approached the woman slowly, knowing not to fully charge at a human unless he wanted a first class ticket to Dog Z-dom. She lowered her gun as well as she saw him approaching. As if knowing what he was about to do, she put her hand out and allowed Hunter to sniff her, before giving him a brief scratch behind his ear. That was the number one way to get on Hunter’s good side.

As if to tell me everything was fine, Hunter barked. “Yeah, yeah, I see you getting the best petting of your life, I’m coming.”

I was still cautious as I approached the woman, and she seemed to be as well.

“Lieutenant Roberta Warren,” she said, holding a hand out to me.

“Alison,” I responded, shaking her hand. “And this is Hunter.”

Hunter barked when he heard his name. Roberta smiled at him, petting his head again. “Nice to meet the two of you. Are you travelling alone?”

“Yes ma’am,” I responded. “Just the two of us for at least a year now. What about you?”

“There’s an...accidental team of us,” she responded. “Eight of us as of right now, travelling in a truck back that way.” My stomach chose that moment to make a loud noise, giving away my dire hunger. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Couple days now. We have snacks, but it’s not a lot.”

“You wanna come with us? We’ve recently gotten some food, and we’re looking for shelter for the night. What’s a ninth person, and they’re adorable dog.”

I looked down at Hunter. He looked up at me excitedly. Although I was sure he didn’t understand the situation that much, he definitely understood the words “we have food”, and he understood that he, too, was hungry.

What other choice did I have? Besides starve to death and become a Z. I sighed heavily and placed my machine gun over my shoulder. “Show me the way.”

When Roberta said they had a small team, she really meant a small team. All eight of them were armed to the teeth with guns, knives, spikes, and more. It definitely made my lousy machine gun look obsolete.

“Guys,” Roberta announced, “meet Alison. She’ll be joining us for a while. Alison, this is Doc, Garnett, Addy, Mack, Cassandra, Murphy, and 10k.”

I raised an eyebrow at the younger guy that Roberta addressed last. “10k? Like...ten thousand? That’s...your name?”

He looked at me for a minute before looking down at the ground without a response. I raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the reaction.

“That’s his name, don’t wear it out,” the older man Roberta introduced as Doc spoke. “Nice to have you along with us, and your cute lil pooch.”

Hunter whined happily at the attention he was starting to get.

“Climb in,” Garnett told us, nodding towards the back of the truck. “We should keep moving.”

Everyone got into the truck. I jumped into the pan and whistled for Hunter to join me. He jumped in effortlessly and laid between myself and 10k, resting his head on 10k’s lap. 10k looked startled at first until I laughed at his expression.

“Unless you’re a Z he’s harmless,” I assured him. “You can pet him if you want.”

10k tentatively put his hand on Hunter’s head. Hunter poked 10k’s head with his nose and gave him a quick lick before resting himself comfortably on 10k’s lap. I watched 10k relax and smile as he began to scratch behind Hunter’s ear. I couldn’t help but smile myself, but quickly pretended that it had never happened.

I couldn’t let myself get too close. Once I’ve eaten and gotten some shelter, it would be time to go again. I couldn’t stay around, I couldn’t get attached. Not again.

~~~~~~

We found a lovely house that seemed to belong to a big family once upon a time. It was Z free and had enough space for everyone to be able to sleep comfortably.

Despite finally having a safe place for a night, I found myself unable to sleep. So instead of lying on the floor and keeping up all night, I decided to go outside to get a breath of fresh air. I had taken a room on the second floor of the house, so I opened the window and reached out to take hold of the roof, pulling myself up with ease.

I exclaimed with shock when I saw that I wasn't the only one with this idea. My sudden appearance also shocked 10k, as he jumped and nearly dropped his gun.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t know anyone else was up here. Mind if I join you?”

“You’re already here, I feel like it’d be rude of me to say no now,” he responded.

I chuckled. “I guess you have a point.”

I pulled myself up onto the roof and settled myself next to him. Although he seemed relatively relaxed, 10k still held on to his gun as if his life depended on it. In some ways, I guess it did.

“Why do they call you 10k?” I asked as I laid back on the roof, looking up at the starry night.

“I called myself that, actually,” he told me. “It’s a nickname I came up with when everything started.”

“What’s the meaning of it?”

“It’s how many Zs I’m gonna kill.”

“And what’s your total at now?”

He paused a moment to think before responding, “Two thousand, one hundred eleven.”

My eyes widened. “Holy shit! That’s impressive. What do you have, like, super accurate aim?”

“Basically. I rarely, if ever, miss.” I made a face, impressed by his accuracy. “Why do you travel alone? Were you with someone?”

My body tensed up at the question. Sure, it was innocent enough, and an obvious question to ask someone who had been travelling by themselves.

“I was...once,” I admitted. “A long time ago.”

“What happened to them?”

“It wasn’t a them, it was a him,” I responded. “An old friend of mine, we grew up together. When I was out looking for survivors, he was the only one I came across. We travelled together for months, we found Hunter together and trained him to be as he is. About a year ago, we were fighting some Zs and one...one bit him. Got him pretty good before I could shoot the fucker. We both knew I had to kill him, but neither of us wanted me to. Before I could get the courage to do it, he took my gun and mercy shot himself. It’s...just been me and Hunter ever since.”

10k looked at me with pity and sadness. I kept my eyes trained on the sky, but I could see him out of the corner of my eye.

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “No, don’t be. It was a long time ago. I’ve gotten over it."

There was a stretch of silence between us. 10k raised his gun and a shot rang out. I sat up to see a Z falling as 10k cocked his gun.

“Two thousand, one hundred twelve,” he declared.

“Showoff,” I chuckled, bringing my knees to my chin.

“I had to kill my dad,” 10k said, surprising me suddenly. “It was just the two of us, too, and he started to turn. I was forced to mercy kill him, stabbed him through the head. I was alone until I met the people here, too. They’re nice, I prefer to travel with them than to travel alone.”

“They seem nice,” I agreed, although even I could hear the unease in my tone.

10k looked at me. “You’re...gonna stay with us, right? It’s safer to be in a pack.”

“Not if one of you die and become a Z, or if you have to kill someone,” I pointed out. But when I looked up at him, 10k looked kind of upset by my response, like he wanted me to stay. And there was just something about that look that made it hard to say no. “But...maybe it will be better for me and for Hunter if we stay for a while.”

His face lit up, and I couldn’t help but smile as well. The sound of Z groaning could be heard down belong. Luckily, it was only two Zs. I took 10k’s gun without hesitation and shot them both between the eyes with ease.

“I’d say that’s at least two thousand for me,” I noted, passing him his gun back. A smile crept across his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

~~~~~~

“A while” ended up becoming a few weeks, and a few weeks extended into a month, and before I knew it Hunter and I were welcomed into the team as if we had been one of their own all along. We constantly moved together, on the fast track to get to California with the hopes of coming up with a cure to the virus with the help of Murphy’s blood.

As to be expected, it wasn’t an easy task to get from point A to point B, but hey, what’s an adventure without some conflict?

After finding more shelter on one particular day, 10k and I were sent out to look for food and water as our supply was starting to get dangerously low again. As per usual, Hunter was right on my heels as we walked.

“Run ahead a little to check the area out, Hunt,” I told him. “But not too far that I can’t see you.”

He happily trotted along ahead of us, scoping out the area as he went.

“He’s pretty well trained,” 10k commented as he watched my faithful pal run ahead of us. “How did you do it?”

“Honestly, he sort of trained himself,” I admitted. “I mean, we fed him treats to praise him for being so good, but he figured out almost everything on his own; how to sense Zs, how to fight them, what we were asking him to do. Dogs are smarter than people think, you know.”

We were both quiet again for some time. Hunter circled back around to let me know he was still there before trotting off yet again.

10k’s arm almost shot out suddenly to stop me from walking before pointing his fun and shooting. He hit two Zs, with ease just as Hunter started barking furiously in front of us. The two of us raised our guns and started firing as the Zs came into view.

I noticed my pup waiting for instruction, so I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled, the signal to attack. In seconds, he was going after any Zs that were nearby, ripping them to shreds and mercying them.

While my guard was down, a Z managed to grab hold of me. I spun around, hitting them with my gun. Before I could shoot them, 10k finished them off. I looked over at him and offered him a small smile, which he returned.

When we finally finished with the Zs, I took my water bottle from my bag and poured some in a bowl for Hunter, who trotted over excitedly with Z blood still dripping from his muzzle.

“That was something,” I sighed. “Thanks for the save, by the way. I appreciate that. I definitely would’ve become Z chow if it weren’t for you.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he assured me. “I won’t even let you ever be changed.”

I looked up at 10k, my eyebrows furrowing together. “I know you won’t, and I appreciate that you have my back dude.”

10k looked down at the grass under his feet, now stained with Z blood as well. “I don’t just mean it like that, though.”

I tilted my head like a confused dog. “What do you mean?”

10k slung his gun over his shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know this isn’t exactly the best scenario to ask this, and I totally understand if you say no, but I’d like to maybe...try and be in a relationship with you...if you want that is.”

He couldn’t meet my eyes after he said that. I looked at him for a long time, waiting for him to take it back. I thought maybe this was some dumb joke, maybe Murphy put him up to it in order to try and embarrass me. I wouldn’t put that past Murphy.

But 10k’s face said he really meant it. 10k was too nice of a person to do something like this, and was definitely awkward enough to act this way if he really meant it.

I took his face in my hands and pulled him for a kiss. He seemed taken back at first, like he was unsure of how to respond to such an action. But he soon warmed into it, placing his hands on my arms and leaning back into me.

I pushed him away after hearing Hunter bark at the two of us. I couldn’t help but giggle at 10k’s dreamy smile on his face.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” I told him as I put Hunter’s bowl back in my bag. “Now, let’s get going. We can’t have a relationship if we’re eaten by Zs.”

[wednesdaywrites]

leon questions ryan’s odd nature. ryan gets her shotgun.

leon s. kennedy x oc

warning: canon typical violence

lowercase is an aesthetic choice

masterlist

“i think i saw a room upstairs in the east wing, wanna check it out?”

        leon looked up from his gun, sliding the clip back into place. “you’re the boss.”

        she wanted to ask what made her the boss, but she grinned cheekily instead.

        “say that again.”

        “wow.” leon rolled his eyes. “just lead the way, creep.”

        “you said it,” she said, heading for the stairs. “put the opportunity right in my hands.”

        upstairs in the waiting room, she paused at the spade door.

        “get ready, officer friendly.”

        knock knock knockknockknock, knock knock.

        a moment of silence, then — ragh!

        “now!”

        she ripped the door open and ducked instantly; leon shot the walker in the head. another one swung around the corner and she whacked its knee out with the bolt cutter, opening it and jabbing it hard into its eyes when it was at her level.

        “let’s go. . .”

        they went across the hall to the door slightly to their left. she stopped to knock, listening for movement inside.

        “coast's clear,” she said, pushing the door open. “looks like a storage room.”

        leon scrunched his nose. “dusty as hell.”

        “this shit probably hasn’t been touched since this place was turned into the police station. it was a museum before, right?”

        leon nodded.

        “how much fucking room does the police need—sorry.” she picked up a magazine sitting on a chair, flipping it open. 

the ruby that captivated edward the black prince, the pearl that the queen of the nile milked dry, the diamond that lead a queen to the guillotine-there is no end to the number of tales related to the appeal of jewels.

this mysterious red stone is simply the latest to sparkle among them.

like those other jewels, this one's origin is unknown. it's said that it once adorned a noblewoman's jeweled box and was even dedicated to a wise king.

this fall, this stone that's long been shrouded in legend will be on display during auction. there are sure to be many eager enthusiasts there.

but, dear reader, one would do well to approach with care, for devilry lies in beauty's shadow. this jewel has turned caring nobles who love their subjects into despots more terrible than caligula, and we have the tales to prove it. seriously, it's precisely because these jewels are bathed in blood that their luster stirs something in the hearts of people everywhere.

        “huh.”

        “what?” leon came to read over her shoulder. 

        she looked at the king statue on the other side of the room—specifically, the scepter in its hand.

        “this isn’t here for nothing,” she said. “if there's a higher power, its playing with us.”

        she tossed the magazine down, approaching the statue. she picked up the arm piece sitting on the table nearby.

        “looks like it holds something,” leon commented.

        “yeah. . . but what. . . ?”

        “we'll find it later,” he said. “check this out.”

        she looked back to see him holding up a card—the weapon locker keycard! she gasped happily, snatching it from his hand.

        “it’s fucking over for these walkers!”

        leon raised a brow, amused at her excitement but confused by her term. “walkers?”

       “yeah. . . ?” she said. “what do you call them?”

        “zombies. . . ?” 

        “like from voodoo? that’s stupid.”

        “haven’t you ever seen a george a romero movie?” he asked.

        “who the hell is that?”

        he stared blankly at her, and she stared blankly back.

        “did you hit your head on something?”

        “maybe?” she said, confused. “why?”

        he shook his head. “you seem to know everything, but nothing at the same time. . .”

        “gee, thanks.”

        “i didn’t—” he sighed. “let’s just go find the other medallions.”

        as she followed him back the way they came, she pondered what he had said. it was weird that she knew how to deal with the walkers, but not who this george a romero guy was. it seemed like a name she should have known based off the way leon said it. she tried to think hard—what had happened before she woke up here? 

        a sharp pain sparked in her head.

        there was a man. . . half his face was burned, like that batman villain but less cartoonish. he hit her in the head because she fought back, then she woke up here.

        who was he? who was she?

        “you alright?”

        she lowered her hand from her face. “yeah. . . rainy weather gives me a headache, that’s all. . .”

        he didn’t seem to buy her response, but everything else about her was odd, so he accepted it without further question. she wanted desperately to hug him. they had only known each other for maybe an hour, but in that moment he was all she knew for sure.

        “hey. . .” he said softly, “maybe we should take a breather. . .”

        “no!” she snapped, without meaning to. “i want to get the hell out of here. . . meet up with ellie and claire. . .”

        “alright, alright. . .” he put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her along. “let’s keep moving, then. . .”

        they went back downstairs to the main hall, stopping to check on marvin again.

        she had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to make it.

        “short way or long way?”

        she snapped her attention back to leon. “long way. i want to see what’s behind that chained door.”

        “lead the way,” he said, motioning her ahead.

        they walked back to the shutter door that had almost killed her, over the mound of bodies, into the reception room, and through the door into the hall. they went down the hall slowly, leon with his gun raised and ready and ryan with a tight grip on the bolt cutters.

        after losing her knife, it was a pretty good weapon.

        down the hall, around the corner a walker shambled to the open window and flopped through.

        “shit!”

        “just jump over him,” leon said.

        they picked up the pace, jumping over the walker before he could start to get up and hurrying along.

        the body hanging from the ceiling fell, landing right on ryan and knocking her down. it was larger than her and, despite what movies may have one believe, much heavier than it looked.

        she looked to see the walker coming right for her. “leon!”

        “i got you!” he shot the walker, using its stagger as an opportunity to help her push the body off. he grabbed her arms, pulling her up. “come on!”

        through the bar doorway to the next hall, another walker laid in wait around the corner. as soon as leon passed through, it lunged at him, clawing at his shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer. ryan kicked its knee out, jabbing the bolt cutters hard into its head.

        “leon, there’s another one at the end of the hall. . .” she said.

        “i’m on it!”

        he aimed and shot, twice for good measure, and they pushed forward. 

        another walker crawled through the window where leon had just shot the one; ryan dove and stabbed the bolt cutters into its head before it could get up.

        leon got his arm around her waist, pulling her along. “the door’s right here!”

        he released her and threw the right door open; she hurried in behind him, turning and slamming the door shut. for good measure, she grabbed one of the folding chairs and forced the back over the knobs. both doors shuddered violently under the force of an unknown number of walkers, sending her backwards with a gasp of shock, but the chair held. . . for now. 

        she stopped to catch her breath, looking at leon to find him reading something on the desk.

        “what is it?” she asked, going to his side.

        “details of the outbreak. . .” he said, pushing the papers over so she could read.

september 25th

we're turning the station into a temporary shelter due to the massive sudden outbreak. all police personnel have been instructed to make the safety of the citizens their top priority as we try to accommodate as many of them as possible.

september 25th (addendum)

one of the refugees attacked us in the middle of the night, resulting in the death of 1 officer and injuring 3 others. the person in question was quickly restrained. we believe this was simply a case of someone snapping under intense stress.

september 26th

a mob attacked the station today, resulting in a number of casualties. a few survivors were able to make it safely behind the emergency shutters, but surrounded as we are, it'll be hard for any of us to escape this place. we're not sure we can fix any of our comm equipment, so we remain cut off from the outside world.

september 27th

there was another clash on the west side of the station around 1pm. twelve people died, and there is only a handful of survivors left. everything is falling disarray in here.

david ford

        she scanned the pages quickly, but one date stood out to her.

        september 25th.

        “this whole thing started on my birthday,” she mumbled. “happy fucking birthday to me, huh?”

        “happy fucking birthday,” leon echoed, flipping the pages over so she couldn’t look at them anymore. “come on. we don’t know how long that chair will hold.”

        she jumped back into action, going to the chained door and cutting the chain.

        right as they entered the room, they were greeted by some kind of electronic device sitting on the desk. 

        “i don’t know what this is,” she said, “but it looks important, right?”

        leon picked it up to inspect it. “looks like a detonator of some kind. . . but to what?”

        “i have a feeling we're gonna find out. bring it.”

        turning around, she saw a whiteboard with locker room cap written on it.

        “i have a feeling we should remember that."

        “the locker room is on the second floor,” leon said. “we'll head up there after we get you your shotgun.”

        she perked at “shotgun,” patting her pockets frantically for the keycard. whew, still in my pocket.

        “hey, bob the builder, boards.”

        ryan turned to leon with an impressed smile. “look at you bringing out the nicknames!”

        “you’re not the only one that knows how to make a joke,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

        “don’t tempt my competitive nature, little boy,” she warned teasingly. “you will lose.”

        he scoffed at her halfheartedly. “this door here needs a heart key, but this one. . . looks like it's locked from this side. lucky us.”

        she grabbed the boards as he unlocked the door, cracking it to check for walkers.

        “clear,” he said, pushing the door open the rest of the way.

        ryan pushed past him, hurrying to the safety deposit room and practically slamming herself through the door. she rushed to the back, fishing the keycard out of her pocket and jamming it into the reader. with a beep, the door swung open and the shotgun was hers at last. she set the boards and bolt cutters down so she could take the shotgun and load it.

        “you know how to use that thing?” leon asked behind her. 

        she turned to him with a really? look. “you want to find out firsthand?”

        he raised his hands in defeat, and she nodded in satisfaction.

        she looked down at the rest of her load. “i really wish i had my backpack.”

        “hey, we never checked these lockers,” leon said. “maybe there's a backpack in one of them"

        “gang, split up and look for clues,” she said in her best fred voice.

        leon went down one side and she went down the other, checking the opened lockers.

        “hey macgyver, we’ve got a positive on the backpack,” leon called.

        she cheered, rushing around to meet him. he handed her the backpack and she went to put the boards and bolt cutters in it. “hey, i can put that handle and the detonator in here if you want.”

        he took the handle off his belt and handed it to her with the detonator. she put them in her backpack and then zipped it and slipped it on.

        “ready to head upstairs?” leon asked.

        “ready.”

[lo-55]

The World As We Know It

At some point the world ended. It was all Ace's dads fault. Non-traditional Zombie!AU Ace/Marco

 At some point, the world came to an end.

 Ace knew this. Everyone knew this about the world. It was over. It had ended, the apocalypse had risen from cemetery and mortuary slabs and fire had lit the skies above. The infestation began, tiny abnormalities that burrowed into the skin and changed the people bellow.

 The older folks were either killed by it and resurrected or nothing happened at all and they had to live with the corpses trying to kill them.

 Ace wondered some days what it was like to exist before them. What the hollow towers of the cities looking like when they were filled with people instead of broken glass. What did they sound like before the windows were all broken and all that was left was the howl of dying animals through the cement. He didn’t know what the roads were like when they were paved regularly and not walled off on either side by cars that sat like long dead beasts.

 He would never know. All because of his      father    .

 There was so much of the world that Ace was missing. Parents, community, history. Home. He had none of it.

 All he had was a high rise he had renovated, attached escape cables to and hidden weapons in, squirelling death away for winter when the packs of Dead walked through cities and the stench of rotting corpses permeated the air.

 It wasn’t winter, though, that fine day in july. The sun was brilliant, a ball of fire and light that beat down on Ace’s covered head mercilessly. The bright orange hat was a gift from his brother, before they’d had to split up years ago.

 The ache of grief had been patina’d by time and now whenever he looked at the hat he was filled with fondness and hope for Lu. Knowing him, he’d already amassed a bunch of loyal followers that would go through hell or high water for him.

 Ace had never been as good at collecting people as his brother. Luffy had a light about him, an aura that drew people in and held them in his orbit. Luffy was tenacious and irresistible. Ace was not. He was a little to angry, a little too jaded to really keep anyone around. He’d joined caravans before, conglomerated with other humans when he needed to, but that was it. He was better off on his own. He just couldn't risk anyone getting close enough to find out who he was.

 That day, he was alone, sifting through abandoned cars to try and scavenge some leather to fix up his boots. He’d need a new pair before long, but the closest Famous Footwear was more than a days walk away, and he wanted to avoid going that far from his sanctuary if he could. It was safer that way.

 Something moved, a few cars over. The sound was small, just the smallest scuff of sneaker on cement but it was enough to have Ace’s hand on the knife at his belt. He never bothered with guns. They were too loud and too unreliable.

 A head popped up on the other side of the street. There was a hood pulled up over someone’s head, purple. He could barely see a trace of blond sticking out from under it.

 Ace eased out of the care carefully. They’d probably heard him trying to rip up the seat anyhow, but he could try. He pulled the first few inches of his knife out of its holster. He coudln’t tell if the person was breathing. Their shoulders weren’t moving. Even if they were, humans weren’t always safe either. They stood across the dead road from him, hidden in an alleyway.

 The stranger spoke.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello?” Ace returned. He slowly made his way around to the hood of the subaru. The stranger, alive, apparently, shifted around to look at him. He coudln’t see much of their face under the shadow of the hood.

 “Why      hello    ,” he could see their lips curve upwards.

 “Don’t get any ideas,” Ace warned. He knew that tone, and it was enough for him to thin a smile back, somewhere between weary and flattered.

 “Sorry,” the strange said, but he sounded like he was lying, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. There weren’t any other groups in the city when we got in. This isn’t how I was expecting the day to go.”

 “Oh?” Ace kept a distance between them that was safe but as he moved forwards so did the stranger. Further out of the alleyway and closer to the light of the sun.

 “No.”

 “You said ‘we’, there’s more of you?” Ace pressed. He was ready to bolt if he had to.

 “Yeah. My family and me,” the stranger said. Ace didn’t know his name. The stranger didn’t know his either. Ace grimaced.

 “I’m Portgas D. Ace, by the way. Pleased to meet you.”

 “Very polite,” this time the smile showed a few teeth. “I’m Marco Newgate.”

 “Marco. Hello,” Ace almost kicked himself. How many times had he said hello now? Too many times. Damn.

 Marco took him with good humor.

 “Hello,” he said in return. “We’re setting up down by the river. Good hunting, fresh meat, and a lot of mouths to feed. You can join us if you like.”

 “You just met me. And you want to have me for dinner?”

 For some reason Marco laughed loudly.  

 “Yeah, why not?”

 “Because-”

 A growl interrupted them. Both of them stiffened. Ace looked to the side, tensing. He hadn’t heard them coming, he was too focused on Marco. And now there was at least a dozen dead walking towards them. They lumbered slowly, shuffling on rotting legs. Even from the distance Ace could see the green veins that crawled across their necks and surrounded their glass green eyes.

 “Shit,” Ace hissed. He lunged and grabbed Marco’s arm, giving him a tug. “Come on, this way. Fast!”

 “I can’t move fast,” Marco hissed. He stumbled when Ace pulled him, limping noticeably when he tried to move faster.

 “Just move faster than them,” Ace snapped, pointing to the oncoming pack of hunters. He couldn’t take twelve at once, and Marco was injured. Who sent out the injured man to scout?! Ace pulled him as fast as Marco could go, half hobbling half running in a shuffle that could have been a dance from the 90s.

 Ace dragged him halfway into his apartment building and slammed the door shut soundly. He knocked a bar in front of it and got Marco to follow him up to the stairwell. He shooed him onto a platform he’d rigged up and made quick work of lifting them with the levers and pulleys and ropes.

 “Fancy,” Marco said. He looked down wearily.

 “You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Ace teased. He brought them to a stop at the twelfth floor. He let Marco get off the makeshift elevator first. Before he hopped off and onto the landing. He’d knocked out most of the stairs bellow to keep any infiltrators out.

 “You gave me shit for asking you to dinner, now you’ve brought me back before even getting dinner?” Marco elbowed him lightly. Ace snorted and rolled his eyes.

 “Yeah, so what?” Ace narrowed his eyes at him. He unlocked the door and let Marco into his apartment. It wasn’t exactly neat or tidy, there were more weapons than anything else hanging out on counters, tables, and the floor. A metal pipe with blood stains still on it was propped up in the corner.

 Marco turned slowly, taking it all in. Ace let him, taking the chance to fetch a couple of cups of water. He kept his eye on Marco the whole time. Out the window he could still hear the small pack beating at his door. The dead were always more eager to meet him than anyone else.

 Marco thanked him for the water and drank it slowly. Ace struggled to come up with something to say and in the meantime took to staring. Marco was taller than him by a few inches, but not as broad in the shoulders. His hair, what stuck out from under his hood and covered most of his eyes, was blond and wild. His mouth was wide, a lower lip fuller than the one above but not badly. Whoever he traveled with kept him clothed. His family. What a novel concept.

 Ace squashed down the part of him that started to miss Luffy.

 “Have you been here long?” Marco finally broke the silence.

 “A few years. Not many people come here, and even less zombies.”

 Marco snorted. “Are you sure about that?”

 “Today is an exception,” Ace said with certainty.

 “Today might be a change. You should be careful,” Marco warned.

 “What make’s you think that?” Ace crossed his arms and leaned in so he could look Marco straight in the eyes. His heart stumbled to a stop. Bright green eyes, surrounded by green veins, stared down at him.

 The impossible smiled down at him.

 “The world isn’t always what you think, Golden boy.”

 Ace did what any reasonable person would do, when confronted with a speaking corpse that called him something no one else should ever be able to guess, let alone know.

 He stabbed Marco right in the stomach.

[just-a-writer23]

Honesty -Sirius Black imagine

Being a reporter in the Wizarding World could be intense every now and then, considering that when your boss requires you to speak “the truth” is not exactly what they want you to do; they basically they ask you to lie by writing about their wicked version of “the truth”. Well, at the moment, I was asked to write about Sirius Black because “people want to know his actions back in Hogwarts and how he was like” according to them, it would indicate that he was going to turn into a criminal. This was what everyone wanted to know about due to the fact that “he had murder many people” including his best friends; James and Lily Potter. It has been thirteen years since the murders had happened and he was taken to Azkaban. Thirteen years in which I kept asking myself whether or not I  had actually done the right thing. Many would see him as a murderer but I knew the real Padfoot, the Sirius that would never betray those he loved the most; he just had a pure heart beneath that bad boy persona he created for himself at Hogwarts. 

Back in September 1, 1971, I was a first year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. During the ride at Hogwarts, I had shared a compartment with Lily Evans and Severus Snape who actually had known each other beforehand. They were very kind to me and we actually spoke about our experiences regarding receiving out letters of acceptance for the school. Both Lily and I had come from non-magical families meaning that we were “muggleborns”. On the other hand, Snape was a half blood which means that he is half magical and half muggle; so he somehow would understand the struggles that Lily and I faced in the muggle world for being different.                                                                       

When we go to the school I thought that we would all be sorted into the same house. However, each of us got into different houses Lily was sorted into Gryffindor, Snape in Slytherin and I was sorted into Hufflepuff. Despite our different houses we remained friends but throughout the years Snape grew distant and in fact, hurt both Lily and I. Therefore, we ended up befriending other people and that is what lead us to be closer to the marauders. Well, that happened due to James constantly trying to grab Lily’s attention but that is another story. 

As a muggleborn, I along other muggleborns...seemed to be the target for pureblood wizards that thought that they deserved the whole universe but really deserved a pile of...rubbish. Most of the time I was able to either ignore or defend myself with witty remarks but that was until they began to get physically threatening with me. When that happened, Sirius came into my defend and as he said “gave them a little something to remember him by”. That was either by fits fighting the rubbish out of them or doing very savage pranks with assistance of the other marauders. Ironically the boy that had the reputation of being “bad” or a “ladies man” had more to him than those characteristics that people would only see. 

Perhaps I should not write about this, because many would think that I am biased... but in honor of my best friend Lily who would be annoyed with me if I didn’t do so, I will. Sirius and I got closer as time went by and eventually developed a romantic relationship. Therefore, he opened up to me about his family and how he basically got kicked out of their house for not being an awful human like they were. It would be a lie to say that he was just like them when in reality out of all of the members of his family along with his cousin Andromeda Tonks, he was an incredibly humble, caring and loyal human who saw everyone as equals; did not judge people by their blood status just like Dromeda.   

Although he did prank a thousands of people at school, got more detentions than Peeves would if he was able to get them and did things that he might not be proud of, he would never betray his friends. Yes, he made mistakes like any other human being but I know for certain that he did not betray his friends. As I am also certain that he did not killed Peter nor the other twelve people that he was wrongly accused for. Oh, and he was sent to Azkaban without a trial, what in the bloody hell is wrong with the Ministry of Magic. I honestly still not understand how they could do this to this day and I know that I will get in trouble for this but is time to reveal the truth. 

After the awful day in which Lily and James were murdered by Lord Voldemort, yes, I said his bloody name and I am still breathing. Anyway, on November 1, 1981, I was grieving the death of two of my dearest friends with Sirius. Both of us had a profound ocean of emotions in which sadness, frustration, guiltiness, confusion and anger prolonged the most. We both wanted to find answers and clarity...we needed to find Peter and question him about his tremendous betrayal. We could not understand how the person that we trusted to be the secret keeper would do something so irrational. 

Part of that frustration is that Remus, Sirius and myself offered to be the secret keeper knowing the risks that it would imply. However, it was decided to choose Peter since nobody would suspect him and that decision came to rip our souls off. No one would imagine that this bloody rat would be such an effing coward... he could have freaking refused to be the keeper if he was that afraid. Heck, even I was afraid but I would have done it in a heart beat due to the loyalty and love that I felt for my friends. Guess nobody would’ve expected the outcome on trusting a rat. 

Anyway, Sirius and I were heading to my parents house which was 15 minutes from that muggle street. The muggle street in which Peter was trying to hide and eventually stab our backs as if his prior actions were not enough. When we met with him, that rat seemed scared out of his few brain cells and tried to escape. However, he was not able to do so and we began questioning him about what had happened. At that point, he began trying to justify all of his actions and the three of us started arguing. 

Once I realized that Sirius was ready to throw hands, I stood in front of him and began getting him to focus on me in order to get him to calm down. At that point, Peter snapped and started murdering those twelve muggles. Once he had murdered them all, he was pointing his wand at us while threatening to kill us and then himself; he was actually shaking at this point. Sirius grabbed my hand and got me behind him, then said “So, you are willing to betray two out of the three people that are left alive that actually considered you a friend?”. It was then that Peter lowered his hand and started repeating “you just won’t understand”. 

As we tried to keep this conversation, mind you... I was trying to keep Sirius calm as it happened. Peter began getting scared knowing that he had gotten himself in a position that would get him straight to Azkaban. He cut his right index finger off and transformed into what he actually is...a rat. At that point, Sirius and I lost our sanity I started yelling while crying meanwhile Sirius was laughing while also crying. Once the realization of what happened came to us, he asked me to leave but he just yelled “GO”. 

What I remember from after that was arriving at my parents house and locking myself in a room. Knowing that I had not only lost my best friends but also my significant other. Also, questioning myself and my actions...wondering what I could’ve done differently that could have had another outcome. However, as time went by I realized that no matter how much I thought about it, nothing was going to change. Therefore, I did all that I could to live the best life I possibly could even if I felt empty inside; I could not even take care of my godson Harry... didn’t get to meet him until he was a first year at Hogwarts. 

I had written and publish this article on September 1993, knowing that it would get me in a lot of trouble and eventually fired; considering that I was defending a fugitive. In fact, I was not supposed to be hired anywhere because the ministry of magic would not allow it. However, Dumbledore being the badass that he is, fought for my right to work in the wizarding world and that is how I became a research assistant for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I do not have answers as to how he manage to do such thing and as of how I ended up with that job. But, we are talking about Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore so that should be enough to explain such unexplainable thing. 

The most frustrating thing about this whole thing is that it had been a long time since Sirius escaped. In fact, Harry had already met him and understood the whole thing that had happened; meaning that our Godchild knew that Sirius was innocent. Heck, Remus had seen and helped him; I know this because Moony sent me a letter to inform me about it. Anyway, they had seen and spent a bit of time with Sirius and yet, I had not seen him at all. I guess that my job position had to do something about that or perhaps I was the only one that still had feelings for the other. Then again, he had gone through a lot and was still a fugitive so he needed to be careful. 

Every day after work, I would go home and write letters to help me cope with the feeling of loneliness. I wrote to Lily, James, Remus and of course, Sirius...I could send the letters to Remus and perhaps Sirius but couldn’t bring myself to do so. I always felt guilty about what happened and about the fact of not preventing what could’ve been prevented. Yes, I know it was not my fault but somehow it felt like it was. I had to forgive myself and move on. The question was, how was I supposed to do that...would it be okay for me to do so?

Anyway, today was a normal day at work and I was ready to get home to relax while writing; maybe even write a letter to Lily. When I got home, I threw my things on my sofa and took my shoes off. I headed to the kitchen to start making myself some tea and that was when someone said...

“You still are the most beautiful, hardworking, crazy and loyal woman that I love...” 

I turned around to see none other than the man I love...my Sirius Orion Black.

[scripts4dreamers]

Not Your Hero. Chapter 1

Prologue, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four

AN: With the Victory Tour well underway, things are changing fast. 

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Haymitch Abernathy, Chaff Mitchelle, Mags Flannagan 

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation 

Prompt/Inspiration: Prom Queen - Molly Kate Kestner

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

You pulled your legs up under your chin and tried to breathe slowly, closing your eyes and and praying that the motion of the train would be able to settle your stomach. However, with your eyes closed, you could see the faces of all the tributes you’d outlived all the clearer, projected larger than life on screens, with their grieving families underneath. You shuddered thinking about the sound one of the mothers in district nine had made; a sort of wail, loud and piercing, like her heart was being ripped from her chest right before your eyes. She’d been clutching two small children by their shoulders, twin girls, probably around nine or ten years old. They’d been crying too, but one of the girls had met your eye and the depth of despair you’d seen there had chilled you to the bone. Their brother was dead and you were not, that look said, and there was nothing you could do to make up for that.

Whatever confidence you’d had going in to the tour had evaporated by the time you’d reached district twelve and now, with district four coming up, you could feel yourself slowly unraveling. It wasn’t just the speeches, and facing the families of the fallen tributes, it was everything. It was the parties and the dinners and the interviews, it was seeing the highlights of your games recapped on every television screen twenty-four hours a day, it was the fact that the capitol was edging closer and closer and, for some reason, the closer it got, the more filled with dread you became.

If it wasn’t for the others, you weren’t sure what you’d have done. Because, of course, you weren’t alone in this. At each district, there were other victors to meet, people like you who knew what it took to survive the Hunger Games, and who had done this same trip themselves once. At first you hadn’t quite known what to think about them. It was strange meeting people you’d been seeing on TV for your entire life, even stranger considering you’d seen basically all of them murder other children. But, of course, they’d seen you do the same and, when Seeder Howell, Victor of the 30th Hunger Games, had pulled you into a hug and whispered that you would be alright, you’d found a glimmer of something you’d been looking for for months now; hope. It was such a relief to be understood again, to not have to explain yourself, and your limits, to everyone all the time, that you found yourself actually trying to make friends. Many of the victors were much older than you, of course, and not all of them had decided to join you once you left their district but, luckily, enough had so that the train didn’t seem empty and haunted anymore. At any given moment you might bump into Indigo Weaver, Alto Combe or even, if you were in the bar cart, the elusive Haymitch Abernathy. Your prep team were beside themselves. They’d never seen so many famous people in once place, they often squawked, wasn’t it just so exciting?

“Land ahoy!” Chaff, another victor from district 11 called out, his loud voice echoing through the carriage.

Your heart pinched and you pressed your face into your knees harder, forcing yourself to breathe slowly again. You were not looking forward to this, not at all. The face of the blonde boy flashed behind your eyes again and you bit back a whimper. These speeches had been hard enough when the tributes you were thanking were virtual strangers but now, with district four officially in sight, things were about to get a whole lot more personal.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Chaff asked, sitting down heavily next to you, “Not excited about the party they’re throwing for you?”

“Go away, Chaff,” you replied, trying to sound firm and failing miserably.

“No, I get it,” Chaff continued, as though you hadn’t spoken at all, “this one’s gonna be tough for you. You beat out one of their tributes in the finale, didn’t you?”

You looked up and glared at the older man, a move that may have been more effective if your eyes hadn’t been red and puffy from crying, and contemplated the merits of cussing him out or just ignoring him entirely. Chaff raised an eyebrow and you sighed, feeling your fragile attempts at indignation evaporate. James said you should try opening up more, that it would help in the long run and you liked Chaff. It didn’t make sense for you to bite his head off, not when he’d only ever tried to help.

“Both, actually,” you said, staring determinedly out of the window, “I killed the girl, and two of the other careers with an electrical device I made from bits of landmine and a current generator I got from a sponsor. But that was pretty early on. It was the boy I killed in the finale.”

It felt odd, talking about this with somebody. For so long you’d shut down any and all discussion about the games, not even daring to let yourself think about them for fear of triggering a panic but now, with the other victors’ constant encouragement, you were at least trying. It felt like pulling a deep thorn out of your arm; nearly unbearable at first but then, once it was out, there was a kind of relief, like maybe now you could start bandaging that particular wound.

Chaff nodded, like he understood and you realised, again, that he probably knew all of this already. He was just trying to get you to talk, to share with him, like everyone was always saying you should.

“Do you know his name?” He asked.

You nodded, “Boyd.” you said softly and then, as an afterthought, “He was eighteen.”

You weren’t sure why that was important exactly. Were you trying to absolve yourself? Was pointing out that this boy was nearly three years older than you were at the time supposed to justify what you’d done? Were you bragging? Or was there something else to it, a desire to make the blonde boy in your memory feel more like a real person, someone who had lived and breathed and dreamed. And died, at your hands.

“Mmm,” Chaff hummed, agreeing with you on whatever point it was you were trying to make, “they won’t blame you, you know?”

“Who?”

“The mentors. Finnick and Mags are good people, they won’t blame you for anything you did in the arena.” he explained.

You pressed your lips together and nodded tersely, “And the families?”

Chaff looked down at the stump where his left hand used to be and sighed, seemingly lost for words. He patted your knee comfortingly and stood.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid,” he promised, “you’ve just gotta keep yourself alive, that’s all anyone can ask.” he continued, cryptically, “You should probably go find your prep team. We’ll be arriving soon.”

“Okay,” you whispered, worrying at the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

Outside you could see trees and hills flashing by and, in the distance, a strip of blue reflecting the sun that must have been the ocean. You’d never seen it before, only the occasional crude imitation in the Hunger Games. The sight of it filled you with something like calm. The ocean had been there for billions of years, it had seen hundreds of billions of people come and go, swallowed their joys and sorrows alike and stayed exactly the same. Surely, if it could persist, you could too?

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

Mags’ hands were rough. They pulled at Finnick’s hair hard, making him wince and reach up to see what it was she was doing.

“Stop,” Mags said, slapping his hand away, “I have to get rid of these knots before the cameras arrive.”

“Arrive?” Finnick laughed, “Mags, they’ve been here for two days already. It’s a little late for that.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately and stepped in front of Finnick, resting her hands on her hips expectantly. She was so small that, even with Finnick sitting down, Mags was just barely taller than him, but anyone who had met her knew that size was no true indication of power, and she had more than a little fight in her. Finnick looked down, thoroughly chastised by one look.

“Exactly, Mr Odair,” Mags explained, moving back to continue untangling his hair, “they’ve been here for two days and the poor girl hasn’t even arrived yet. Imagine the circus that’ll show up when they finally do get in.”

“There’s always press on a Victory Tour,” Finnick offered.

“I know, but this is a lot,” she countered, “even by your standards. It makes me nervous.” Mags faded into silence, letting the sound of the brush echo through Finnick’s empty bedroom for a while, lost in her own thoughts. “Poor thing,” she eventually muttered, mostly to herself, “turned sixteen in the arena, what a horrible way to celebrate.”

“Poor thing?” Finnick responded, with an incredulous laugh, “She killed both of our kids, you know?”

Mags waved him away, “Tsk, I know that. And they would have killed her if they could. That’s how the games work, Fin, we can’t blame her for being a better player.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the sharp stab of guilt that thinking about Boyd and Ariel always brought on.

“I know,” he eventually relented, “I know that. I just-it’s so frustrating, sending them in every year only to watch them die, you know? I really thought we had a winner this year, and when Boyd got so far…” Finnick’s voice trailed off.

Mags nodded understandingly, though Finnick couldn’t see it, “Fifty-eight years I’ve been doing this,” she said simply, “I was a mentor for twenty before I brought home my first win,” she squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, “you’re young, it’ll happen. You’ve just got to keep trying.”

Finnick hummed noncommittally, thinking privately that there was no way he would survive losing another twenty-six tributes. Mags might be able to do it but, then again, she’d always been far, far stronger than him. Impulsively, Finnick reached back and grabbed Mags’ hand, resting his cheek against it like he was fourteen again.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Mags said, running her fingers through her hair, “we’ll be alright. It’s only a day. Soon they’ll all climb back into their dens and leave us alone for another six months.”

“But first we have to get through the tour,” Finnick pointed out.

She nodded, “First we have to get through the tour.”

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

Finnick smiled and counted to ten in his head, waiting patiently for the mayor of his district to finish the long, drawn out rambling he called a speech. Every year it was roughly the same; meaningless references to the Capitol’s generosity, the importance of the games, the valor of those who fought in them and his own, genuine joy at meeting [Insert whichever victor just won’s name here], a worthy champion. Finnick, the other victors and several important members of local government were clustered strategically near the base of the stairs in the Justice building so the crews of Capitol filmmakers could get shots of everyone individually, and as a group, waiting excitedly for the arrival of the newest victor. After skipping the ordeal that had been your public speech, and the mandatory quick trip to the beach every victor was entitled to, Finnick had been unable to wiggle his way out of this, the last event; a dinner hosted by the mayor in honor of you. It was sure to be horrendous.

While the mayor droned on and on and on (somewhere in roughly the middle of his speech Finnick predicted), Finnick leaned over to the two men standing to his left and slightly behind him, keeping his voice low.

“So, what’s she like?” he asked softly, “Is she as insufferable as they usually are.”

“She’s less insufferable than you are,” Haymitch answered, surprisingly less drunk than Finnick had expected him to be, “but, granted that’s a rather low bar.”

Finnick chuckled and shot a look at Chaff, who smiled slightly, but shrugged.

“She’s nice, I like her,” he said softly, “she’s got spirit but,” he winced, “you remember how it was just after your games. She’s got a lot to work through.”

“Group therapy with our drunk Uncle Chaff, you mean?” Finnick teased. Chaff shrugged again, which he took to be agreement, and continued, “I remember how that goes. Well then, maybe when it’s my turn to share in the Safety Circle I’ll ask her why she choked my tribute to death, that’ll be fun.”

Haymitch chuckled but Chaff shot him a dark look.

“Don’t make this harder on her, Odair” Chaff said, “lord knows this whole thing is unbearable enough as it is without you making an ass of yourself.”

Finnick gave him a look of mock outrage, “What? It’s a simple question! You’re telling me I can’t ask a simple question?”

“I mean it,” Chaff warned, “she’s been through hell and back, the last thing she needs is your bruised ego getting in the way of her recovery.”

“Ouch,” Finnick laughed, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t worry, Chaff,” Haymitch interjected, “I’ve got no doubts in my mind that Finnick will like the new girl just fine.”

There must have been some sort of inside joke there, because Chaff chuckled.

“What?” Finnick asked, annoyed at being left out

“Oh, nothing. She’s an interesting girl,” Haymitch interjected, “let’s just say, it might be a little like looking in a mirror.”

“Doubtful,” Finnick retorted under his breath.

Even if the others had heard him, they didn’t have any time to respond because, right at that moment, Finnick heard the telltale phrase;

“A worthy champion.” signalling the end of the mayor’s speech, and the room burst into rapturous applause.

Finnick got his first glimpse of you at the top of the stairs and his breath hitched in his throat. Even from where he was standing, he could tell you were beautiful, the type of beautiful that doesn’t come around every day, the kind of beautiful that can’t be ignored, no matter how hard you try. A hush fell over the room as you made your descent, your beautiful black gown reflecting the light like the world’s most subtle and sophisticated disco ball. You smiled graciously at your audience, the perfect blend of confident and humble, even blowing a kiss to your mentor, Jason as you walked. Your eyes glanced, unseeing, in Finnick’s direction, and he felt his heart stutter just a little bit. Something on his face must’ve showed his surprise, because he heard Haymitch suppressing a laugh from behind his back and, flushed with embarrassment, Finnick forced his face back into its casual mask of amused indifference.

Okay, so you were attractive. That wasn’t unusual for a victor. It didn’t change anything, not really.

At least that’s what he told himself as his eyes clung to you, watching intently as you laughed at some horrendous joke the mayor made and, with every ounce of feigned surprise you could muster, consented to saying a few words to open the evening.

You stepped up to the mic and, for the first time, Finnick saw a glimmer of discomfort in your eyes. But before he could do much more than notice you had smoothed it away with another gracious smile.

“Hi,” You started with a breathy laugh, breaking the tension and endearing yourself to the audience from the start, “I promise I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to take a moment to thank Mayor Eluuicious and his government for organizing this beautiful event for me tonight. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all the effort you’ve all put in,”

“Well, we couldn’t pass up the chance to celebrate your sixteenth birthday with some proper flair,” the mayor joked, earning a rather more forced laugh from the crowd.

You acknowledged his words with a smile, but continued, “it’s been so lovely being here in district four, and I will be truly sad to say goodbye but,” you finished, “I’m not gone yet so let's party.”

You stepped off the staircase and were promptly engulfed by a crowd of people, all clambering to get pictures with you or to ask questions about your experience in the games. It was a dance Finnick knew well. Usually he would be off and finding a drink by now, scoping out the event from some corner where he knew he would be seen by everyone, including the cameras, just like he was supposed to, but something was making him feel off balance. It felt like he was fifteen again; shaky and unsure of himself, desperately hoping that no one could see how inexperienced he was.

“So, how screwed are you then?” Haymitch asked, appearing next to Finnick like a phantom, a full glass of clear liquid already clutched in his hand and a smug smile on his face.

Finnick growled, “Fuck off, Haymitch.” And stalked off, determined to regain some of his composure before someone who actually mattered noticed his awkwardness.

Before long, Finnick had downed two glasses of champagne, and was most of his way through a third, leaning casually against a pillar near the modest buffet table and watching your movements like a hawk. From what he could tell, you were good at this. Every movement you made was calculated without looking forced, every smile incandescent with happiness while still maintaining a distance and mystery to it, every phrase balanced and fair, treating all equally and showing favoritism towards none. Of course, the cameras ate it up, basically falling over themselves to talk to you, to get an exclusive clip or a photograph to take home to the Capitol, but Finnick didn’t care much about that. He was watching for the other moments, the brief flashes of reality that slipped through your carefully schooled features without you even meaning to. There weren’t many; an eye roll here, a subtle wink to Chaff or Jason there, clenching your fists whenever someone came too close, things like that. It was these that Finnick found so fascinating, and what kept him from trying his best to charm his way into an early exit.

He watched from afar as you gestured towards the food table, extracting yourself politely, but firmly from the mayor and three high ranking government officials. As you made your way towards the table, Finnick heard you exhale loudly and watched as the marks of exhaustion started to creep its way onto your face. You piled your plate high with mini meat pies and bits of deep fried fish, looking conspiratorially over your shoulder, as though to check that no one had followed you over. Finnick found the sight somewhere between endearing and frustrating, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Hey there, Y/N,” he called, stepping out of the shadows with his signature catlike grin, “bored of your adoring fans already?”

At the sound of his voice you jumped, clenching your fists and turning to face the attacker quickly, only to relax and let out a breathy sigh of relief when you saw who it was. Finnick felt a pinch of guilt at the look of shock on your face, but pushed it down and leant casually against the table.

“Finnick,” you breathed, pressing a hand to the base of your throat, “I didn’t see you there.”

“I can see that,” he replied, gesturing down at your plate of spilled food.

You glanced down at the mess and blushed, looking sheepishly over your shoulder at the crowd to see if anyone else had noticed. Up close Finnick was relieved to see that a lot of your radiance came from particularly good make up. While you were attractive, some might even say beautiful, it was in a softer, more realistic way, less harsh angles and overly white teeth and more actual sixteen year-old girl.

“Not the best introduction I guess,” you laughed nervously, fiddling with your dress, “I’m sorry we didn’t meet earlier, Mags was so complimentary about you.”

Something about you made Finnick feel unsettled, like the floor beneath him was sliding around and trying to trip him up. It was exciting, but also nerve-wracking, and totally not something he was used to. Part of him wanted to push, to see how much more thrilling and uncomfortable he could make it, the other just wanted to run and hide somewhere far away where you’d never be able to find him. The effect was disorienting but, being himself, Finnick leaned into it, letting the reckless portion of his mind take the wheel.

“Yeah, well, Mags is much braver than I am. You see,” Finnick continued sardonically, leaning in as though to tell you a secret, “I’m not quite done grieving the deaths of my two tributes. Didn’t feel up to a beach trip, I’m sure you understand.”

You pressed your lips together so they disappeared into a thin red line. Your face went blank instantly, hardening back into an expressionless mask as your bright Y/E/C eyes deadened, sending a shiver down Finnick’s spine. You didn’t seem much like a sixteen year old at that moment at all. The smiling, giggling girl had vanished, leaving a stranger in her place. This person seemed dangerous, this person seemed like the victor of the Hunger Games. There was a masochistic part of Finnick that liked seeing this more dangerous side of you. It was thrilling, and genuine and so much more interesting than the pleasantries and quibbling that usually happened on these trips.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said, devoid of any emotion, “excuse me.”

And with that, you stormed past him, knocking his arm hard with your shoulder as you passed.

“Ouch,” Finnick laughed, rubbing the spot where your bodies had connected.

If you heard at all you ignored him and he watched, with a slight sinking feeling, as you rejoined the party, your perfect smile firmly back in place as though nothing at all had happened. It took roughly eight seconds for Finnick to realise what an ass he’d just been and he sighed, swallowing hard past the disappointment he felt in himself.

“Why did I do that?” he asked himself softly, turning back to the buffet table and noticing, with another pang of guilt, your untouched food, “Ah, shit. Um, you there,” he gestured to one of the Capitol servers that he knew had arrived with the train.

The man scurried over, obviously holding in a minor freak-out at being addressed by Finnick Odair, “Yes, Mr Odair?”

“Can you-uh-can you make sure there’s some food ready for Miss Y/L/N when she gets back on the train?” Finnick asked, “Something tells me she won’t have much time for eating tonight.”

“Yes of course, right away Mr Odair.” The attendant nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, with a semi-distracted smile.

“Well that was nice of you,” Mags noted, appearing at Finnick’s side like a ghost, “what brought that on?”

Finnick shrugged and wrapped his arm around the small woman’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head, “Call it an olive branch. Or an apology.”

Mags raised her eyebrows at him, “Making friends fast as usual. Does this mean you want to sit this tour out and just join the others at the Capitol?”

Finnick thought for a moment, the sound of your laughter catching his ear as Chaff whispered something to you under his breath. The sound was light and clear, and made something in the pit of Finnick’s chest feel fluttery and delicate.

“Uh-no,” he said, ignoring the knowing look on Mags’ face, “no, let’s go with them. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” Mags asked.

“In case,” Finnick shrugged, “I don’t know, in case something good happens.”

“Okay,” Mags chuckled, “I’ll go get started on the packing.”

Finnick thanked her softly and then shoved his hands into his pockets, continuing to watch you from the sidelines. Eventually you looked up and met his eye, fear turning to confusion when he smiled gently and raised a hand in greeting. Hesitantly, you smiled back, your eyes still questioning his intentions, but Finnick took it. He still wasn’t sure about you. There was something just under the surface with you, close enough for him to sense, but still too deep down for him to identify that he wanted to reach.

“Well, you’ve intrigued me,” Finnick whispered to himself, “let’s see what happens next.”

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

Tag list: @i-love-you-green​, @heatherhollowayst​

[starring-movies]

Killing Eve: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Season 1, Episode 4 - Sorry Baby

We start the episode at Bill’s funeral where Frank is speaking in behalf of Bill’s colleagues. Frank’s speech about Bill is particularly comfortable as Frank gets everything wrong about him, Frank says;

Bill’s colleagues “really really liked him” - there’s absolutely no sentiment in this and only says Bill’s colleagues really likes him, he doesn’t even include himself in that statement. He’s just saying the most generic things you could possibly say in a eulogy about someone you didn’t know at all.

Bill was “a very loud man” - not appropriate to say at a funeral at all really, he’s insulting him more than anything.

Bill was “a man who had time for everybody” - Eve say this isn’t correct, “no he didn’t”.

Bill “was truly a traditional man” - from Bill’s conversation with Eve about kinks, falling in love with many men and marrying his wife because he “really wanted a baby”, we know Bill was definitely not traditional

He continues to talk about Bill’s leadership and how he’d be lucky to “get a chocolate finger by lunch” because Bill “liked his biscuit Wednesdays” - again not appropriate and more of an insult than anything.

Not only does he get everything wrong but it was evident in S1E1, when Frank wasn’t invited to Bill’s birthday karaoke and Bill wanted to call Frank a “dick swab”, that they were not friends at all.

When we see Villanelle back in her apartment, she’s decorated with a big cake and balloons for Konstantin’s ‘birthday’. She did this big display to try to distract Konstantin from the fact that she had been “naughty” and gone against what he had ordered, and she did a similar thing in S1E1 when she asked him if he’d had a haircut.

The cake and balloons is also exactly what Anna said in S1E7, that Villanelle did for her after killing her husband, Max, she said “there were balloons everywhere and a huge cake and she was jumping around”. We can see that there is another parallel between these two moments; that Villanelle is pleased to have gotten rid of the person (Bill) who was standing in the way of her getting close to Eve, just as she got rid of Anna’s husband who was standing in the way of her getting closer to Anna.

We also get another example of Villanelle not just putting on a mask when shes in disguise, but her completely inhabiting whoever she’s disguising herself as. When they go into Villanelle’s bathroom to talk, Konstantin asks her “who are you?”, she says that she’s “Konstantin” but when he rips off her beard, she replies that she’s “Villanelle”. Konstantin knows he can’t speak to Villanelle properly until she’s fully out of character, which also serves to show Konstantin and Villanelle’s bond - he doesn’t just get angry with her, but instead he knows what she’s doing and goes along with the rules of her ‘game’

During Eve and Niko’s argument after Bill’s funeral about Eve being in danger at work, there’s a poster behind Niko in one of the shots. The poster seemed to be not only an odd choice of artwork for Eve and Niko’s to have in their house, but also that the poster is only in frame in one shot of Niko - right after Eve berates him saying, “I know you care. We all know you care. Sometimes I think it’s all you have”.

The artwork depicts a man inside a black bird/crow’s beak, trying to hold the bird’s beak open. This imagery seems fitting for this moment as Niko is like the man and Eve is like the bird, with Niko desperately trying to keep their life and marriage together and to not to get swallowed, but Eve ultimately ends up ‘consuming’ their marriage and crushing Niko along the way. The moment in the poster imagery though, is Niko not yet being ‘swallowed up’, as he gets by Season 3, but him still desperately trying to make their normal life work, cope with Eve’s behaviour and keep her safe.

After searching for the poster, I found that it’s a poster by the Polish artist Andrzej Pagowski for the 1985 Martin Scorsese film, ‘After Hours’. I’ve never seen the film myself but after googling it I found that the main character’s goal is just to return home despite a number of events happening through the night (just as Niko is just trying to fight for his life with Eve, despite Villanelle and all the danger she brings). The film also has a heavy theme of emasculation, which is also fitting as Eve essentially just emasculated Niko for showing his emotions of care and concern for her; where stereotypically men aren’t supposed to be vulnerable and show emotions, Eve has just insulted him for having and showing them.

When Eve goes to the butchers to meet with Carolyn, to tell Carolyn the evidence that Frank is the mole, there is a close up of a sheep statue that’s sitting outside the doorway of the shop. It’s this conversation that Eve has with Carolyn, that leads to Frank’s capture and questioning in the safe house. In this way, as soon as Eve and Carolyn have had their conversation, Frank has now become a ‘lamb for slaughter’. Eve says to Carolyn in S1E5 that Villanelle “took my phone it has the interview with Frank on it. And she’ll have the location of the safe house”. If Eve had never recorded the conversation they had with Frank at the safe house he may not have been killed as there was no proof that Frank told them anything about The Twelve and Villanelle also might not have been able to find the location of the safe house from Eve’s phone.

The sheep could also be symbolism referencing Frank being a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’. Since Frank is the mole, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing as he’s been collecting information from MI5 amongst those who trust him and giving that information to The Twelve.

The symbolism could also be that Eve is the ‘lamb for slaughter’, as she’s getting deeper and deeper into her investigation and this breakthrough with Frank is what leads Eve, and subsequently Villanelle, to finding out that an organisation called The Twelve even exists.

The sausages in the butchers counter also foreshadows Frank’s death and castration, as well as when we find about Anna’s husband’s death and castration later on.

Villanelle is now working with Diego and Nadia after she was told in S1E3 that she isn’t allowed to work alone anymore and she arrives “a bit late” because she stopped to “deliver a package”, which was delivering Eve’s suitcase to Eve’s house. She asks Diego is he checked the sights on the gun, he cockily replies that he used it to shoot a politician so it works, but Villanelle was right he should have checked the sights because when she tries to shoot Frank she misses.

When Nadia chose Villanelle by shooting Diego in their three way stand off, it’s not really surprising that Nadia chose Villanelle over Diego. Diego wasn’t just incredibly annoying and condescending; but we saw that Nadia still liked Villanelle as when Villanelle grabbed Nadia’s wrists before they went into ‘Frank’s house’, Nadia touched her wrist where Villanelle had just held them and looked over to Villanelle walking towards the house.

We can also see how much more Villanelle considers Eve to be “special” than both Anna and Nadia, both people who Villanelle had been in ‘relationships’ with. Unlike Anna and Nadia, Eve isn’t nearly as easily manipulated. Anna must have been fairly easy to persuade into a relationship (considering all the letters that were sent between her and Villanelle), despite her having a husband and Villanelle almost certainly being underage at the time (and even if Villanelle wasn’t underage the relationship was certainly inappropriate as Anna was Villanelle’s teacher and much older than her). Nadia also only needed a little bit of persuasion for her to kill Diego and choose Villanelle, despite the fact that Villanelle betrayed Nadia by taking her place as the person who The Twelve was going to break out from prison. Whereas Eve doesn’t fall for any of Villanelle’s manipulation but sees straight through it, like in S1E5 when Villanelle says she’s trapped and doesn’t want to kill anymore, Eve says what Villanelle is saying is “bullshit”. Eve stabbing Villanelle in S1E8 shocked Villanelle, but Villanelle later tells Gabriel in S2E1 she did “to show how much she cared”, as if admiring what Eve did and considering it an act of love that no one else has done for her.

After Villanelle has convinced Nadia to trust her and then runs her over with the van, the camera shots visually show us Villanelle’s skill as a manipulator and ability to turn the tables on a situation. When Villanelle first meets Diego and spots Nadia in the wing-mirror of the van, it is Nadia in the front seat looking behind her to Villanelle - Nadia is in the position of power and has Diego’s protection, so Villanelle is outnumbered if she were to try and kill them. Then when Villanelle is running Nadia over with the van, we now get a shot of Villanelle from the wing-mirror - now Villanelle is in the position of power, she has turned Nadia against Diego and tricked Nadia into trusting her.

You can read my previous Killing Eve posts here:-

First Introduction to Villanelle

First Introduction to Eve

S1, E1 - Nice Face

S1, E2 - I’ll Deal With Him Later

S1, E3 - Don’t I Know You?

S1, E5 - I Have a Thing about Bathrooms

S1, E6 - Take Me To The Hole!

S1, E7 - I Don’t Want to Be Free

S1, E8 - God, I’m Tired

S2, E1 - Do You Know How to Dispose of a Body?

S2, E2 - Nice and Neat

S2, E3 - The Hungry Caterpillar

S2, E4 - Desperate Times

S2, E5 - Smell Ya Later

S2, E6 - I Hope You Like Missionary!

S2, E7 - Wide Awake

S2, E8 - You’re Mine

S3, E1 - Slowly Slowly Catchy Monkey

S3, E2 - Management Sucks

S3, E3 - Meetings Have Biscuits

S3, E4 - Still Got It

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 1]

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 2]

S3, E6 - End of Game

S3, E7 - Beautiful Monster

S3, E8 - Are You Leading or Am I? [Part 1]

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