#(girl was starved and beaten to death and shes just happy to be alive and doesn't want to ask for more than what shes already been given

[universestreasures]

@shacchou Sent:

❛  You don't ask for a lot. ❜ An observation accompanied by an imperturbable tone that betrayed no immediate emotion; baritone voice resounding through the cold surfaces that encompassed the woman's cell. Not unlike a statue, the priest stood before the iron bars; blue eyes fixed on her, and the Millennium Rod held tightly in his grasp. Since the incident that took place a few days before at the underground arena, he had given the order to his guards to not only move her to a new location unknown to anyone but him, but also to provide her with anything she might ask for or require; food, drink or clothing. And yet, not once had she requested for more than what little was given to her. (Kisara, from Priest Seto)

Following the incident, Kisara had went into yet another string of days where she did nothing but sleep. Her body was under a constant state of pain and discomfort, no doubt in part due to the years of struggle from being deprived of basic necessities. So, rest was often one of the only ways to restore her strength. However, after what she had learned from those of the Pharaoh's palace, there might be another reason for her frequent sleeping state other than because of her deprivation of food and drink.

She had been told she had a monster, otherwise referred to as a Ka, living deep inside her, one akin to a god. Of course, she was hesitant to believe such things. Kisara, despite her unique appearance, was not one to think of herself as noteworthy. She knew her limitations, knew of her fragility, and lived each day simply to survive. She had no purpose other than that...at least maybe until now.

If she harbored such a mighty beast, the 'white dragon' as Lord Seto described, could she potentially use it for the greater good? Despite not being from this land, the young woman was well aware of those like her who struggled daily. Even those who would curse her existence and stone her were in a similar position. They didn't want her to 'curse' them to more anguish than they already had.

But perhaps that 'curse' of hers that seemed to be around her since she was born could be reversed and instead turned into something good, something that can help people come out of the darkness and into the light. Though, there was an obvious hurdle with that. Kisara isn't aware of even how to summon her Ka, let alone control it and use it.

Could she be taught how to do that? Could Lord Seto teach her how to do that?

Her thought of the man who saved her is soon followed by his appearance on the other side of the bars, as if on queue. Kisara slowly stands from her bed, moving towards his direction. At his inquiry, she simply bows her head in respect before answering.

"You have already given me more than enough, Lord Seto." Her voice is soft but laced with no hint of dishonesty. "You are the reason I am still here today, after all. I am eternally grateful to you. Kindness like what you have shown me has been...a scarcity in my life. I only hope I can manage to repay you for it someday."

[decadentbutterflies]

And here we go again with the misinterpreting both Arya AND Sansa, treating her as a perfect empathetic Disney princess that's always victim without any choice. Despite her having numerous, and making bad ones, but they'll excuse those with "she was just a kid" or "she was scared" and not use that for Arya, who was even younger lmao.

They'll go "yas queen" when she's sassy with Joffrey, but then go and say "Works very hard to keep Joffrey happy" ??? Does my memory fail me or is there not a part where he gets mad after she mouths off to him and he tells her the only reason she's alive is bc she's a hostage lmao.

She's not victimizing her way through King's Landing smartly or carefully. Who was careful and even counted the guards just in case, even before sht went down? Arya.

Also Arya wasn't beaten at all... No, not at all (by people who thought they can beat her to death, unlike Sansa), and she wasn't in danger of being assaulted (it's not actually like she was posing as a boy or something to have less chance of that) or seeing women being nailed to walls and being **** and seeing other terrible sht done to common folk that's nowhere near close to the tyranny in court against nobles :( /sarcasm.

Also Arya was literally kidnapped by Hound. Not like Sansa - WHO HAD A CHOICE TO GO WITH HIM lmfao. She didn't "leave with Hound".

It's really disgusting how they'll victimize and excuse Sansa's horrible behavior and choices, but will then victim blame even a younger girl.

I've noticed some women tend to do this double standard quite a lot to "feminine vs. not so feminine girls". That "dasfeministmermaid", is sexist.

Also "looks after Sweetrobin" yes, willingly giving him the potion knowing it hurts him, but "me and Father have more important things to worry about" lmao and throwing feasts while the common folk is starving.

It's a pretty easy "job of keeping positive" when you weren't much of an empathetic person to begin with.

Asoiaf fandom be like: let's make fun of Arya and Jon for being snob while doing chores.

Meanwhile those two are the only Stark kids who have done labor in their lives and are okay with it. I dare to say that 95% of the rest POV characters would endlessly complain if they were in Arya and/or Jon's shoes.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 08 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (07)

Next part (09)->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Nightmare

It's amazing to know you're excited about the party. Luke is two months old, and since you had a welcome party in-store, you turned it into a birthday party. It'll happen later tonight, by nightfall, and you're enjoying the last moments before you have to leave the bedroom and start organizing things.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you leave the bathroom, smiling to see Daryl still lied in bed. He seems peaceful, eyes closed, so handsome in the morning light. You've been wanting to tell him something, it's been a while... But you never get the right time. Or maybe you're just a little scared...

But looking at him now, it just fades away. You and Daryl have been in a solid relationship, and despite the short time, things have been amazing. Perfect. Carol is even talking about moving out, so you and Daryl can have your own space, but you don't want to push her to it. In the privacy of your bedroom, you're fine. And living with Carol is nice.

“Hey, D.” You say in a soft voice, going to the bed and climbing on top of him. Daryl grunts something, his eyes opening, hands coming to your hips and waist. “Are you awake?”

“I am now that a kitten came to lie down on me.” He mumbles as you move up until your face is at the same level as his. You place your legs around his hips, hands sustaining your weight on each side of his head.

“Sorry.” You mutter, moving to stand up. But Daryl's grip gets tighter, and you let yourself fall, collapsing against his chest, giggling. “Alright, alright. But listen up now...”

“What is it?” He brings a hand to your face, fingers caressing your chin.

“Uhm...” Blushing a little, you clear your throat. “I... I think... No, I do.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow, and you can tell he's trying to figure it out on his own. “Ya wanna break apart?” He bursts out suddenly. “ ‘Cause if that's what ya want, I–”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You say in a sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes. “I'm literally on top of you, Daryl Dixon. How can you possibly think I want to end things?” Moving to sit up, straddling his hips, you cross your arms. “What do you have in this pretty head of yours? Only hunting skills?”

“Yer very funny.” In a sudden motion, Daryl pulls you down again, switching positions so he's on top of you instead. “What is it then?” He asks, his face way too close.

“Can I kiss you first?”

“Nah. Ya got me curious.”

“Alright...” Taking a deep breath, you gather up some courage to push the words out. “I want a baby.” Shrugging your shoulders, you giggle at Daryl's funny face. “What?”

“Don't ya have one already?”

“Yeah...” Mumbling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Daryl?”

“Huh?”

“I want another baby.” Smirking, you place a kiss on his lips. He's fast to kiss you back, a hand cupping your cheek. “So. What do you think?” You ask when you pull away.

“How are ya plannin’ to get one?”

You're not sure if his intention was to make you blush, but you're blushing anyway. “Uhm... First I need to get married.”

“Get married? People don't care about these things anymore.” He answers quickly, and you wonder if you went too far. Maybe it's way too early, and these thoughts should be kept inside your heart for a while longer.

“I know but... That's exactly why I care.” Sighing, you avoid his eyes. “I'm sorry, we haven't talked about this and I don't even know if–”

“Hey, calm down.” With his thumb and index finger on your chin, he makes you look at him again. You always appreciates Daryl's touch, it doesn't matter how small it is. It took a while for him to get comfortable enough to do this so easily, and you never take it for granted. He's always gentle as if you're a porcelain doll. He's never rough, never violent, not with you. Loving Daryl happened fast and strong, and it's a feeling that only grows, every passing day. “Ya wanna talk about it we'll talk about it.”

“It's just that... I-I love you. With all my heart and... It does feel like we already have this family thing going on and...” Daryl has fallen into this father role, and he's absolutely amazing with Luke. He can make him fall asleep in minutes, and you love to watch as he rocks the baby to sleep. And those moments always get your mind racing. He's already being such a good father so maybe he'd like a baby of his own... And you'd like to give him that. “...It got me thinking.”

“I love ya too, babygirl. But marriage... It would bound you with me on a whole different level.” Daryl sits up, and you follow his movement, your arms still around his neck, keeping him close. “I wanna make sure ya have the choice ta’ walk away when ya want to.”

“I won't walk away, Dixon. I love you.” He needs to be reassured of that from time to time, but you don't mind. You want to spend the rest of your life making sure Daryl knows he's loved. That he's desired and wanted. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life and if that's what you want too... You know, I'm a girlish girl, I'd like to get married someday, and honestly, if not with you then I won't marry anyone else.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, a shiver rolling down your spine, feeling his fingers caressing your bare thigh.

“Ya sure ya want this? With me? Are ya sure about what yer talking about?”

“I am.” You mutter in a low voice, blushing. “I am.” Repeating in a low voice, you kiss him, slowly at first, but soon enough his taste overcomes everything, and you think he feels the same since he deepens the kiss. Pulling him down again, you smile when his hand touches a ticklish spot on your side.

“Hey, you two!” Carol calls, knocking on the door. “Wake up. There's a lot to do today.”

Daryl grunts in response, not pulling away from the kiss.

But Carol is right. It'll be a long day and both you and Daryl have stuff to get ready for the party.

The day passes by quickly since you're helping everyone a little. The only thing you can't do is lift heavy stuff. Daryl forbade it, with Denise backing him up, you have no idea for how long. The party will happen at Rick's house since the living room is the biggest, and you spend hours there decorating everything. You try not to think too much about all the people who will be here tonight. You know them, you befriended them, they won't hurt you.

When it's finally time to go, you're impressed by how you feel. Happy, not scared, and actually excited. You never thought stuff like this would ever happen again. It's silly, but it keeps people sane, said Deanna. The sun is making its way to the horizon when you're getting dressed. You chose to wear a dress Daryl brought you from one of his runs. It's a light shade of blue, with thin straps and a nice cleavage in the back, reaching a few inches below the mid of your thighs. You never wear anything that will show the scar on your leg, you don't like it. Nor what it represents. You're putting on your flats when Daryl comes out of the bathroom, hair still damp, but completely dressed. He's wearing what he usually wears, always dark colors, but you don't mind. You really like it.

“Are you ready?” You ask, turning on your heels to face him. Daryl doesn't answer, eyes locked on you, lingering for so long it makes you blush. “D? Cat got your tongue?”

“Nah, it just...” He looks down at his feet before making his way over you. “Ya look beautiful, that's all.”

“Thanks.” Smiling shyly, you tiptoe to kiss him. “But I'll need a coat for when the night falls... Mind if I get one of yours?”

“Won't ya ever stop stealin’ my clothes?” Daryl fakes an annoyed tone, but it takes two seconds for his lips to break into a smile.

“Well, you stole my heart, Dixon. I'm just looking for revenge.” Winking at him, you search on the wardrobe for one of his jackets. “Now let's get going. Maggie and I baked this brownies and I'm dying for one.” Grabbing the jacket, you take his hand and leave the bedroom.

Carol is already there, so you just have to take little Luke and head out. He wants Daryl this time, so he's the one carrying him to Rick's place. As you walk there, the wind messes with your hair, and you try to keep it from your face.

“Who are the new residents, by the way?” You just remembered them. If the day wasn't so hectic, you'd ask Daryl to introduce you to them, just so you could know their faces before having to meet them at the party.

“Two men. Aaron found them starving to death a hundred miles Northwest. They're alright I guess. Since Deanna allowed them to stay.” Daryl reassures you, his free hand taking yours. “Ya ok?”

“Yeah... I'm excited, actually.” As you climb the few steps to the porch, Luke giggles, you're not sure why. “Right, little one?” Stopping by the front door, you step closer to the baby in Daryl's arm. “Are you excited too? For your party? Two months old already, you're growing up so fast.” You're still baby-talking when the door is opened, a smiley Carl gesturing for you to get in.

“C'mon, let's get ya those brownies,” Daryl says as you step inside.

It takes no time for people to come to talk to Luke, him becoming the center of attention. He throws himself on Maggie's arms, who happily welcomes him.

“(Y/N),” Rick says and you turn on your heels to talk to him. Daryl remains close, and you know why. But you feel fine, comfortable around these people. “Judith said a funny word this morning. I wonder where she learned it.” He has his hands on his hips, and you innocently shrug your shoulders.

“What word?”

“Damn it,” Daryl answers, not a hint of doubt in his voice. Rick nods, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh my gosh. Where could she have heard such a thing?” She learned it from you because that's what you exclaim almost a hundred times a day and that's not really a secret anymore. “I'm sure she said something like ‘dang it’ so I don't see how that's my fault. ‘Dang it’ it's not that bad is it?”

“Well, I think–”

“(Y/N). Daryl.” Deanna calls, and you give Rick a smirk, meaning you're happy to be saved from this conversation. Turning around, you focus on Deanna. “Come, you're the only ones who haven't met Michael and Daniel yet.”

“Ok.” You can't help but feel a little anxious to meet new people, so you grab Daryl's arm as you follow Deanna through the living room.

“Over here.” She gestures, a kind smile on her lips. “This is Daniel, and Michael, they were found–”

Her words fade when both men turn to look at you. Their faces are unmistakable, and you feel yourself sinking, skin burning, head spinning as it all comes back.

Their voices, touches, and threats. You're suddenly back there, in the darkness, starving, freezing, waiting, wishing for death to come before they did. You're in the basement where your screams used to echo. All of your wounds start hurting, pulsing, as if they were reopened, all over again.

You never got the names, but you'll never forget the faces. One of them, the you thought looked like Rick, has a smile on his lips. The same sick, wicked smile, the same he had every time he went to see you, never failing to draw some blood.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He says, in the same tone he used to. Low, dark, more animal than human.

What happens next is a blur. There's yelling, and Daryl suddenly isn't by your side anymore. He's a blur, moving towards both men, drawing punches. You're pulled back by someone, you don't know where, but you know it isn't Daryl. You know his touch by heart, and it's the only touch you want.

“Let go of me!” You yell, pushing whoever that was, sinking, falling backward until you hit a wall. You want to disappear again, to vanish from existence. With both hands covering your ears, you push yourself into the wall, hoping it'll absorb you, hide you.

“Take them. Now.”

“The trial happens tomorrow.”

“Lock those assholes up.”

“Enjoy your last night on Earth.”

The words have no meaning, they just keep echoing. The low chattering, the many footsteps... Why are you still here? Why can't you be strong for once and just run? Run where? If they're here... Where else could you go?

“Babygirl,” his low, calming voice is like a beacon, lighting up the darkness, bringing you back, pulling you into consciousness again. Into life.

Moving just a little, hands off your ears and muscles relaxing, you look at him, immediately running to his arms. “They're here. They're here, they... They found me.”

“Alright, calm down now.” He holds you tight, a hand rubbing your back. “Let's get ya outta here.”

Nodding, you offer no resistance when he picks you up. You keep your eyes closed, face hidden on the crook of his neck as you float away. It feels like the first time, when he was carrying you from the infirmary into what's now your house.

You flinch a little when you're pulled down, suddenly recognizing your bed and curling up, pulling the blankets over your head.

“How is she?”

“I don't know.” Daryl sounds angry, furious. “I'll kill them right now.”

“No, Daryl. The trial will be tomorrow. You know they'll die for what they did”

“I don't care!”

“You need to stay with her now.”

You know it's Carol, but still, you want her to go. You need everyone to go away now, you just need Daryl. You need to... Go away. Alexandria isn't safe anymore. You rather face the dead.

Silently, moved by fear, you get up, taking the dress off, and struggling with the first pair of jeans you find.

“(Y/N),” Daryl calls, but you ignore him, sight blurred by the tears as you put a shirt on. “Hey, (Y/N).” You don't know what to take... You just need to leave. These walls won't keep you safe anymore. If you stay... You know they'll find you again.

“I'm leaving.” You mumble, looking around and finding the white sneakers you left by the edge of the bed and putting them on.

“What–”

“I'm leaving! I can't stay here. If I stay here it'll happen all over again.” You're yelling, sitting on the bed, sobbing. “They're here, they'll take me again, they-they–”

“Shh, yer ok.” Daryl pulls you up, into his arms, and you melt. The sobs are muffled by this jacket, and your tears are certainly soaking the fabric. “Look at me, babygirl. Look at me.” Slowly, you raise your head, his blue eyes acting immediately, like a medicine made only for you. “There's a place I can take ya for the night. But ya need to be here tomorrow. To officialize their crime so I can kill those–”

“Take me away, please.” You beg, holding onto him as if he's the only thing keeping you sane. Alive. Because he is. “Please, if I stay here I'll–”

“Alright, alright.” He nods, a hand caressing your cheek. “Let's go then. C'mon.”

Everything happens in the background, you feel. Carol stays by your side in the porch, guiding you to the car Daryl took to drive you away. You barely feel your body now, out on the street, feeling their eyes on you... Their eyes, evil and disgusting, as they lust over you. You know they're not here, but still, you feel them. Wanting you to cave in, to agree to fulfill their needs in the most vile, degrading ways. You're hyperventilating when the gate opens, the woods before you suddenly looking far safer than these walls.

When Daryl crosses the gate, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, lungs burning. The sun is coming down, so there are a some shadows creeping in... But it's better out here. The wall will keep them inside, you hope.

“Babygirl,” Daryl says, getting your attention. “We're almost there, alright?”

“Ok.” You mumble, and Daryl puts a hand on your knee.

“Nothin’ will hurt ya. Never again. M’ gonna keep that promise.”

Holding his hand, your eyes meet his when he gives you a glance.

Around ten minutes later, Daryl stops the car. You haven't noticed before, but he parked in front of a small, wooden house. It looks like it was some kind of cabin in the woods since there are no other constructions around it. “C'mon.” He says when he opens the passenger door for you. Your legs feel a little weak, but you manage to stand up, immediately looking around. “There's nobody here, I promise ya.”

Nodding, you let him guide you inside, a flashlight on his hand. Daryl unlocks the door, and you wonder why he has the key to this thing. When you step in, the light coming from in between the planks on the windows helps you see the interior. There is a cough and a coffee table, you recognize it despite the dark plastic covering both things. Walking further in, you peak at the kitchen. Everything is clean and has a plastic placed over them. It kinda looks live someone used to live here not too long ago.

“I found this place a while ago.” Daryl starts, placing his backpack on the floor. “Was fixin’ it, cleanin’... So I could bring ya here every once in a while.” He gestures at the whole place in general, and you take another look around. He did say he'd try to find a place he could take you outside Alexandria, but you never thought it would be this good. “Still has a lot to do. Gonna put electricity, runnin’ water will be more complicated but I'll do it.”

“You're doing all that for me?” You whisper, hoping the dim light will hide your blushing cheeks.

“Yeah... Wanted to bring ya here under different circumstances but...” He takes the bag again, gesturing at the hall. “First door to the right it's our bedroom.”

Following his direction, you open the door to a small bedroom with a double bed, also covered with black plastic. The windows have wooden planks on it too, but there's enough space in between them so let some light come in.

“Here, lemme’–” Daryl drops the bag, walking over the bed and removing the plastic. Underneath, the light green sheets seem comfortable and you get it now why everything is covered up. To keep it clean. “Ya can lie down it ya want to. Brought some blankets.” As you move to the bed, Daryl searches in the bag, picking up two blankets and fixing them on the bed. “Ya hungry? Or thirsty? I brought–”

“I just need you, Daryl.” You whisper, drying off some tears that are still rolling down. “Can you come here?”

“Of course, babygirl.” Quickly, he leaves the bag behind and joins you in bed. Daryl pulls you close, you head on his chest as his arms hold you tightly, keeping you safe.

“I hope this is just a nightmare... That I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be gone.” Mumbling, you push yourself even closer to him, if that's even possible.

“I'll kill them myself, I swear.” There's a fire in his voice, hate. You've never heard him talking like that, his chest vibrating powerfully. “I'll wipe them off the face of Earth.”

Involuntary, your hand finds its way to your leg, to the scar. The pain is a vivid memory today, and for a moment you feel like you should lie down, as motionless as you can so it won't hurt. So the stitches won't rip again.

How is it possible that all the horrible memories came back all at once? On one second? “I-if I didn't have you, I... I'd die today, I know I would.”

“Nah, ya wouldn't.” Moving, he brings his index finger to your chin, making you look at him. “Yer stronger than ya give yourself credit for. Ya don't see it, but I do.” Then, he places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips, which is sadly, too brief. “But I will protect ya. Always, until my days are over.”

“Daryl, I–”

“I wanna marry ya.” He bursts out, his low voice burning through your head as you wonder if you heard him right. “When this is over and those monsters are dead... I wanna marry ya.”

Despite the terror, creeping through your skin, the darkness threatening to swallow you again, you smile. Everything fades away, and a different kind of happiness washes over you. A type of bliss you didn't even know existed. Unable to control yourself, you climb over him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you mutter, not giving him the chance to answer, connecting your lips on his in a loving, passionate kiss.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle @lightning-butterfly @yttricuz

[fuabloboi]

The Treehouse

Day 2 of @petopher-events March 2021 - Kid fic

1982

“Hey! That’s my tree!” Chris peeked down, rubbing his face with the back of his arm as he heard a high-pitched fierce voice.

He groaned, running a hand over his short bristly hair. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Chris had just been beaten to a pulp by his father, and he was aware that if Gerard saw him cry, he would be battered all over again. He had ended up on a sturdy tree in the preserve after sneaking out the window, silently sobbing to himself. There was nowhere else Chris could have gone. If he tried to run away, Gerard would have still found him and he would have been returned to the Argent household by someone else. Sadly, his father had way too much influence over the county and its people.

“Shut up, it hasn’t got your name on it.” he shouted back.

“As a matter of fact, yes it does.” the voice cried out in reply.

Chris turned his head and caught sight of the initials ‘P. H.’ engraved onto the bark. He almost fell off when he faced forwards and saw a little dark-haired boy with big blue eyes perched opposite him.

“See.” he tilted his head.

“Well, now it’s got mine.” Chris muttered, fishing the pocket knife he carried everywhere and carving his own initials leaving a gap next to the other.

The boy rolled his eyes but outstretched his arm, “I’m Peter. Are you- are you okay?”

“Chris,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand, “And yeah I’m fine.”

“Don’t look like it.”

There wasn’t a single day he didn’t have a black eye, a bruise, or a cut. Gerard always found some reason to punish him and not even his own mother could do anything about it. He wasn’t even sure of how he was alive at that point.

“It doesn’t matter.” he replied hastily and asked, “How old are you?”

“Six.” Peter told him and continued, “What about you?”

“I’m twelve. And how’d you get up here so fast?” Chris inquired since he was confused as to how a six-year-old could race up such a tall tree.

Peter’s deep blue eyes briefly flashed in a golden yellow, and Chris realized that this kid was what Gerard wanted him to hunt down; a werewolf. However, unlike the vivid picture of bloodthirsty savage werewolves and their young that Gerard had painted in his head, the boy didn’t seem like a threat at all. Chris saw him as a human, not a monster.

Peter gasped suddenly, “You’re one of them aren’t you?”

“One of who?” he raised an eyebrow.

“The Argents.” the boy stated calmly.

Chris flinched and nodded at him. He had expected Peter to be afraid of him, and even run away, but he hadn’t. He sat completely unfazed and Chris was surprised.

“What are you doing here?” Peter questioned again.

“Nothing really. It’s peaceful up here and I like it.” he lied. Peter didn’t need to know why he actually came there. Chris wasn’t even sure whether the wolf would have understood if he had been honest.

“Cool!” the boy stared at him before exclaiming with a grin, revealing the absence of a few teeth, making Chris smile as well.

*

“Hey!” Peter greeted, hurtling up the tree and settling in front of him.

“Hey, Peter. What’s this?” Chris smiled at the boy and asked when he held out an energy bar packed in a blue wrapper.

“What it looks like, obviously.” he regarded, waving it, “Take it. I got it for you.”

“Me? Why?” he said, taking it from the wolf’s hands and tearing it open.

“You ask too many questions. I brought it thinking you might be here when I came.” Peter answered, digging into another energy bar that he had kept in his pocket.

“Well, thanks.” Chris replied, taking a bite.

He knew his father would have him whipped for accepting food from a werewolf without a second thought, but he was too famished to care. Gerard didn’t only beat him, he also starved Chris as punishment. The bar tasted like heaven and he wolfed it down. He was more than glad that Peter had brought it for him and yet he was also puzzled.

“You were hungry, I sensed it yesterday.” Peter revealed, licking his fingers.

“Really?” Chris said and stuffed the wrapper in his jacket pocket, “Why did you bring it, though? Why did you trust me? You know I’m… one of them.”

Chris didn’t even want to mention his own last name. He detested being an Argent and being referred to by that name.

“You smell nice.” Peter responded matter-of-factly, but Chris was confused.

He had loathed his own scent, however, with time he had grown accustomed to it. Chris knew he smelled of dried blood combined with sweat and he was pretty sure that didn’t smell nice. Horrible and disgusting seemed more likely.

“Excuse me, what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Ta said that people who smell nice are good people and I can trust them.” Peter explained.

“Ta?”

“Talia, my sister. She started taking care of me after Ma and Pa- after they went to a better place.”

Everyone had heard the term ‘a better place’ at some point in their lives and that was when Chris pieced it together. Peter wasn’t just any ordinary werewolf who lived in Beacon Hills.

“You- you’re a Hale.” Chris stated wide-eyed.

“Yup.” Peter said bobbing his head.

It had taken place about a year ago when he was eleven and Chris could remember it clearly. Gerard had gloated to his fellow hunters about his achievement of being able to capture and kill both Richard and Emilia Hale, the two oldest members of the family, who were also widely known in the supernatural world. He had seen them briefly and to him, they seemed like genuinely pleasant people. His father had told him that Chris wasn’t old enough to understand, but he was sure that Gerard wasn’t doing something right if he could so heartlessly torture him. He had come to acknowledge that Gerard had the best interest to no one and only for himself.

1986

Chris yawned, his legs dangling from the tree and Peter was munching on an apple, murdering it with his fangs. The wolf was taller now and his hair had grown, the fringe covering his forehead and just above his eyes. It had been a gloomy day and Chris had made it to the tree right after training. He had been beaten again and his body had ached so much that he struggled to get on the tree, but Peter had helped him up and offered an apple.

They had been meeting every day for four years now and Gerard, thankfully, hadn’t suspected a thing. It was most probably since his younger sister Katherine had been born three years ago. The young wolf would arrive with food and they’d sit there together, sometimes talking and sometimes silent.

As a result of their conversations, Chris had discovered that Talia, Peter’s older sister was the alpha of the Hale pack and was the mother to a little wolf girl named Laura. He also found out that Peter was prone to have fits of rage, destroying his own toys. However, Peter had mentioned that he felt comfortable with him and Chris had never witnessed such behavior from the wolf.

“Christopher?” the boy called out.

Peter had begun to call him ‘Christopher’ instead of what everyone else called him in his life and Chris found that amusing. He liked the boy and he didn’t mind meeting him each day for the rest of his life. Chris wondered whether things would change by then, whether he’d escape Gerard and there would be no more hunting, a world where he and Peter could meet freely, no violence, no death, just peace, and happiness.

“Yeah?” he replied lazily, yawning again. Chris was still tired and he needed to nap. He couldn’t do that at home, and as uncomfortable as it would be, Chris felt like sleeping up on the tree.

“What do you think about a treehouse?” Peter suggested with a grin, chucking away the remainder of the apple.

“I like that.” Chris smiled, “But… only if you help me build one.”

Peter rolled his eyes and groaned, “Of course you’d say that. Fine, I’ll help.”

“Great. We start tomorrow. I’m gonna nap.” he muttered to the wolf before closing his eyes, cozying himself on the not-so-comfy branch.

“Well, I’ll be here protecting you.” Peter said and Chris laughed a little.

“And what are you going to do if someone tries to kill us?” He opened an eye to look at the Hale.

In an instant, Peter drew his claws and tried to growl menacingly. Chris thought that it was adorable.

1988

“Christopher!!!” Peter exclaimed, jumping off the tree and launching himself onto Chris, wrapping him in a tight hug. The wolf was twelve and several inches shorter than him but was obviously stronger than most kids his age.

“Peter, woah geez I’m human.” he laughed, stuck inside the rib-crushing hug.

“Happy 18th Birthday! Well, late birthday.” the boy shouted, hugging him tighter.

“Thank you, kiddo.” Chris groaned and Peter let go of him, grinning.

It had been Chris’ birthday the week before and he had been in Japan, doing his first gun deal with the goddamn Yakuza. Gerard’s idea of a birthday present was putting him in a near-death situation and Chris wasn’t even surprised. The experience had been extremely unsettling and so terrible, that he wanted to forget his 18th birthday. He had informed Peter about it a few days before but not many details as even Chris had been unaware of what he was going into until he had made it to the venue.

“What happened? You look pretty shaken up.” Peter eyed him, suspiciously.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that great. It was a gun deal with the Yakuza and it didn’t go that well, but I’m alive, right? So that’s what matters.” Chris managed a weak smile. He knew he couldn’t lie and Peter was always worried about him so he kept the details of figures materializing out of the shadows with swords similar to ninjatos to himself.

“The ya- what?” the wolf blinked at him.

“It’s like Japanese mafia, Pete.” he answered, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Woah geez. Are you hurt?” Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, nah I’m good.” Chris smiled. He was telling the truth in a way. Though he was injured then, he was better now and he was used to the pain regardless.

“Well enough of that. We’re going to have a proper celebration.” the boy smirked and Chris wanted to facepalm himself. He was sure that Peter would have planned something. It was just the way he was. Chris had never wanted anything for his birthday but the wolf would get him small trinkets and he appreciated it very much.

Chris had genuinely been surprised when Peter had introduced him as his best friend to the rest of the Hales. Peter’s sister Talia had dinner prepared and even baked a cake with ‘Happy 18th Birthday Chris!’ on it. Peter had made him what seemed like a bracelet with a little piece of wood shaped like a tree, which Chris assumed was to signify how they met. He had almost cried at the Hale House. He had never been so happy and no one had ever done anything so amazing for him. The Hales had treated Chris like he was one of their own and given him a birthday that he would never forget. The next morning Chris had sneaked back into the house, and Gerard hadn’t noticed his disappearance as always.

1992

“Christopher!” Peter yelled, and he could detect the excitement in his voice, “I did it!”

Chris sniggered as he slipped the wolf figurine that he had been carving for the past hour into his left jacket pocket. He sheathed the knife in his boot, stepped out, and settled on a branch before hanging upside down to greet the wolf.

“I did my first evolved shift!” he panted as he came to a halt.

It took a while for Peter to come into view and Chris shut his eyes when he did, almost plummeting onto the ground below.

“Why are you naked?” Chris groaned.

“What do you- have you seen wolves wearing clothes?” Peter whined back.

“Go get yourself some clothes or I’m leaving.” he said, with his eyes still closed.

There was another whine from the younger boy and it made him snicker. He loved how Peter could always lighten up his mood somehow. It was good and he felt lucky to have the wolf in his life. It had been ten years since they had met and Chris’ life had changed for the better though his father still made his life a living hell. Peter made him forget all of it when they spent time together.

“Ughhh will you come with me? Please, please, pretty please Christopher?”

“Fine.”

Chris landed onto his feet with a flip without opening his eyes and Peter snorted, before snarling. When he glanced in the direction of the sound, Chris saw a wolf with dark black sleek fur. He lowered himself onto one knee so he could run his hand through Peter’s coat. He let out something like a satisfied purr and Chris got back onto his feet. Then they were off, sprinting through the preserve back to the Hale house. Peter was quick, but Chris managed to keep up with him.

Once they had arrived at the residence, Peter shot up the stairs to his room. He came back down in his usual V-neck and jeans with a pout. His hair was shorter now and in a mess as always, yet Chris considered it to look good on him. The two of them went back to their tree, this time walking slowly.

They spent the day chasing each other around through the trees. Chris felt like an idiot for playing, but he was having fun and soon he became comfortable. It was pretty late when Chris was feeling exhausted, so Peter decided that they should take a swim in the lake. They fooled around for a couple of minutes and it was when they dried off to get dressed that Chris remembered about the wolf he had carved. When they got back to the treehouse, Chris had gifted the figurine to an astonished Peter. The wolf had adored it from first sight and thanked him endlessly. Since it was dark, they silently lied down next to each other on the wooden floor. Chris was an adult so he knew that Gerard didn’t give a damn about him as long as he was at the house in the morning.

“Christopher, can I say something?” Peter suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?” he responded, turning to the side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“I- I- it’s hard to say.” he chuckled lightly, “Never mind.”

“Just go on Pete.” Chris hummed at the boy.

“I- I like you. A lot. You know- more- more than just a friend. I- I just didn’t understand it before.” he mumbled, stuttering a little.

Chris sighed, closing his eyes and lying on his back once more.

“Peter, you’re sixteen. What you feel- it’s not love. It’s just something you feel at this age as you grow.” he explained, “You will know what it’s like to be in love when you’re older, but this as much as you think it is, it isn’t.”

“Okay.” said Peter, softly and Chris flinched as he detected the hurt in the Hale’s voice.

‘I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey’ from David Bowie’s Lady Stardust started ringing in his head, because that’s exactly what he was doing now.

He had acknowledged that there was more than just a brotherly affection he felt towards Peter. He wanted to wrap the wolf in his arms, love him and protect him, but it just wasn’t right. Peter was a sixteen-year-old. He was still a boy in high school while Chris - he was twenty-two; an adult. Chris was disgusted by his own self for the attraction he had to the teenager. It may just be a six year age gap, but Peter was a kid and he wasn’t. It was wrong and Chris detested that he couldn’t view Peter as just his best friend anymore.

Even if their ages weren’t a problem, anything else between them would only give Gerard more reason to harm Peter if he found out. Chris didn’t give a damn about what happened to him. He needed the wolf to be safe no matter what and it would break him if Peter was hurt. It was a sacrifice that he had to make, so they wouldn’t lose what they already had. To Gerard, it wouldn’t be just about loving a werewolf, but also about loving a man.

1993

Peter was already at the treehouse when Chris got there. They were still the best of friends even after the confession from Peter almost a year ago. Things remained just the same and the younger boy didn’t make any advances. This day Chris had news. News that was going to change his life and possibly affect their friendship as well.

“Hey, Pete.” Chris greeted as he settled himself opposite Peter on the wooden floor.

“Christopher.” Peter smiled at him. He had grown into a beautiful man now and Chris still could recall the six-year-old with the missing teeth. Chris had literally watched him grow through the years.

“I’ve- I’ve got news. I’m getting-” he started to say, but was soon interrupted.

“Married next week,” Peter finished his sentence and Chris frowned, “What? All of the supernatural world knows. A hunter family visiting Beacon Hills? It’s obvious. Besides, news spreads around here fast.”

He stared at Peter with his jaw dropped and then nodded. The wolf was right about all of it and Gerard had planned it to be a grand wedding. The funny thing about that was the fact that Chris had never seen the girl he was going to marry or even heard her name. Obviously, Gerard was doing it for his own benefit. He pondered over the question of what it would be like to live with a stranger for the rest of his life.

“Yes.” he said, confirming what Peter had said.

“Well, I’ve got some news too, Christopher.” Peter spoke again, his tone slightly somber.

“What’s that?” Chris inquired.

“I’m leaving. For college that is.” his voice was soft, and Chris couldn’t believe that he had forgotten. Of course, Peter was going to leave. He had mentioned that he was contemplating that decision some time ago. Maybe Chris had been thinking that it wouldn’t come to that.

“Where to?” he asked the boy.

“Oh, that- no idea yet. I’ve got a little more time.” Peter grinned and Chris cracked up.

They spent that entire day together as there was a possibility that it would be the last one they could meet each other freely. It was as much as he could have. Though Chris loved him too, they would be star-crossed lovers and he just wanted to save Peter from that pain.

1998

“Daddy, where thish?” the little dark-haired fair girl in Chris’ arms chirped.

“We’re going to see my good friend, Ally sweetheart.” he said, kissing the top of her head. She was four but insisted on being carried and Chris just couldn’t say no.

“Okay, Daddy.” she hummed, resting her head against his collarbone.

It had been a long while since he had gone back to the treehouse. Chris had become busier with the business and had the responsibility of sustaining a family. Besides, Peter was away as well and he missed the wolf dearly. It was tough at first, not being able to meet his best friend, talk to him or hear of how he was doing. Even if it got easier with time, the Hale was on Chris’ mind every single day and the feelings were still there though he was a husband, a father.

Talia had secretly informed Chris that Peter would be returning to Beacon Hills because she had figured that he’d want to see the wolf again. She didn’t know of his feelings but knew how close they had been.

“Peter!” Chris called out when he arrived at the tree.

“Christopher!” there was a roar and Peter landed, leaping off the tree. Allison stared in amusement.

Chris caught his breath when he got a proper look at Peter. His hair had grown slightly, but it was still the gorgeous mess it used to be. He hadn’t changed much, but Chris could see that Peter had matured, despite the goofy grin on his face. Peter wasn’t a boy. He was a man. It hurt Chris. Seeing the one he always wanted. The one he couldn’t have.

“And who is this angel, then?” Peter spoke first, beaming at his daughter.

“Allison, my daughter.” Chris smiled at the Hale, “Allison, this is Peter, my best friend.”

The words sounded almost bitter in his mouth. Best friends. That was all they could be, but at least they had that.

“Hello, Allison.” the wolf said, waving at her and Chris removed her from his chest, holding her towards Peter.

“Hi, Peter.” she chuckled at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow and Chris insisted with a nod. The wolf gently took Allison into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck instantly. He gazed at him, thrilled. Chris was glad that Allison was comfortable with him since every time Gerard was nearby, she’d break down crying. He didn’t blame her and kept her away from the man as much as he could. It was also amazing to see Peter so happy after years of not meeting each other.

They chatted as Peter gave Allison a piggyback and played with her, fooling around. Chris got the idea that Peter was great with kids and then realized that he was already an uncle to a sixteen-year-old girl, a ten-year-old boy as well as a four-year-old girl. He tried to picture what it would be like to raise a child with Peter, but soon let that thought go because it hurt too much.

As they talked, the wolf revealed that he didn’t want to go to law school, since he didn’t want to stay away from the pack for much longer and didn’t need a job for himself. He also wanted to be where Chris was. That piece of information made Chris feel better and even if they couldn’t hang out in their treehouse, there was a chance they could run into each other frequently.

When evening arrived, Chris decided that it was high time to leave. His wife Victoria would be paranoid and there was no cell signal in that area. Allison also seemed to be exhausted after playing. They had stayed there for a good amount of time. Before they said their goodbyes, Chris wrapped his arms around Peter and pulled him into a tight hug. He gently ruffled his hair like he did when they were younger, earning a snicker from the Hale in return. It had been forever since they last hugged and Chris missed it more than he could fathom.

“Hey, sweetie. I need you to help me.” Chris told Allison as they got to the edge of the preserve.

“Yes, Daddy?” she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can you promise me that you won’t tell anyone about Peter? And if someone asks where we were, will you tell them we were at the park? Can you do that for me?” he requested. Chris had wanted Peter to meet Allison and he knew what could take place if anyone else found out about that.

“I promise. I will do that.” she grinned at him and then frowned, “But why?”

“You’ll understand when you get older, sweetie.” Chris pressed his lips to the side of her head.

“Okay, Daddy. Park.” she yawned, falling asleep on Chris.

2003

Chris crept down the stairs with his flashlight, trying to make the least sound possible. It didn’t take him long to make out Peter and Derek hiding in the dark.

“Pete, Der?” he whispered to them.

He had managed to shake off Gerard and the other hunters before making it to the Nemeton. Peter had brought him there a couple of times and he figured that it would be where Peter and Derek ran off to. Though it would take the others a while to find the Nemeton, Gerard wouldn’t stop at tracking the wolves down, so Chris had to make sure they got away safely. He didn’t want to see what would happen to them otherwise. Peter was usually up to no good and Chris made sure to keep an eye on him as much as he could. It also didn't help that there were three other werewolf packs in Beacon Hills at the time. It could be a jackpot for Gerard.

“Yeah?” Chris heard Peter’s voice answer him, but his tone was more of a question.

“You have to get out now. Gerard- he’s coming.” he informed them and, both Peter and Derek slowly made their way towards Chris.

“Hey.” Derek said, his expression showing slight fear. The boy was about fifteen.

“Hey, Der.” Chris replied with a smile and glanced at Peter. He swore that the older wolf only got more attractive each time he saw him, which really wasn’t much. They met, but not as frequently as they used to and it almost tore Chris into pieces. He missed Peter terribly and when he lay in bed at night, Chris knew that he wanted Peter next to him instead of Victoria, and she was aware of that as well. She didn't know about Peter, but she did know that Chris wasn't exactly in love with her since it was the same with her for Chris.

Peter moved forward to hug him but Chris deflected it by grabbing his arm. He pouted and groaned.

"Peter, seriously, you need to be more careful. Gerard is so much more on alert these days and I- Peter- I don't…" Chris tried to say and faltered because the lump that formed in his throat didn't allow him to speak further.

Peter put his arms around Chris, wrapping him into a tight hug, "Don't worry, Christopher. I'll be fine."

"Don't you 'I'll be fine' me, Peter. I always worry about you. Promise to me that you'll take care." Chris told the younger man, ruffling his hair.

"Yes, I promise." he mumbled, resting his chin on Chris' shoulder.

Chris wished that the hug could go on for longer. However, they had to get moving now and hugs were for a later time. He pulled away from Peter begrudgingly before it got to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the wolf. It felt like torture.

He led them out from what looked like a root cellar as quickly as he could. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around just yet. Chris glanced at Peter.

“Yeah, I don’t hear anyone. I think we can get back home safely.” Peter said, reading Chris’ mind, “Der, go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

The teenager nodded and hurried off, disappearing among the trees.

Peter gazed at him, “I’ll see you around I guess.”

“Remember your promise?” Chris asked the Hale.

“Yes, Christopher. I promise I’ll take care.” Peter answered with a smirk and then he was gone, leaving Chris all on his own by the Nemeton.

2004

Chris’ heart was heavy in his chest. He had contacted Peter a few days ago and asked to meet him at the treehouse. He and Victoria had decided to leave Beacon Hills and stay away from Gerard. Victoria didn’t want Allison to be exposed to the supernatural and Chris didn’t either. Chris was sure that Gerard would try to snake his way into the little girl’s mind and twist her views like he did with his younger sister Kate. Even if Gerard didn’t take that route, Chris didn’t want Allison to live through a childhood similar to his. He didn’t want his daughter to grow up to hunt those similar to Peter. Those two were the people in Chris’ life that he loved the most and it would kill him if something happened to either one of them.

He climbed the tree and got himself onto the treehouse to see that Peter was sitting there waiting for him.

“Christopher, what’s going on? You asked to meet me.” Peter said, studying him intently.

“Yeah, Peter, I have news.” Chris told him with a sigh.

Peter raised an eyebrow, rising to his feet, “News? Last time you said that you were going to get married. You’re not getting married again are you?”

Chris chuckled softly, shaking head at the wolf, “No, Peter, I’m not getting married again. I’m- we- we’re leaving Beacon Hills.

“Leaving? You’re going? For how long?” Peter inquired, astounded.

Chris shrugged. They weren’t sure whether they’d ever move back and that was what hurt the most. He would likely never see Peter ever again. Though, Chris was ready if that was what it took to not have to watch his daughter hunt down Peter and his family.

The wolf launched onto Chris, taking him into a tight hug. Chris stumbled backward, but regained his footing and wrapped his arms around Peter. His heart shattered when he heard a sniffling sound.

“Hey, Pete…” Chris choked out the words, stroking Peter’s head with one hand and rubbing his back with the other.

“I- I know we haven’t seen each other much lately, but- but you’re my best friend. You- you were always there for me for most of my life.” he mumbled, “I’ll- I’ll miss you, Christopher. What will I do without you?”

“I’ll miss you too, Pete, but that’s how things are. I’m sorry. I just want you to be safe. You’ll do great without me, I’m sure.” Chris said to Peter, ruffling the younger man’s hair.

Peter silently clung to him a little longer and then finally spoke, “Promise me you’d at least let me know you’re alive from time to time?”

“Promise.”

They spent the rest of the day walking through the preserve that had been a home to them. Chris tried to take it all in before he left. The preserve had been his sanctuary and had given him his best friend.

2011

In just one night, Chris’ entire world crashed down upon him as he watched helplessly. It started off when Stiles had implied that Kate had set the Hale House on fire and unfortunately, it all made sense to him. The idea that someone of his blood was the reason for the demise of a family that actually cared about him, made his blood boil. His younger sister was the reason that Peter was so badly injured and in a vegetative comatose state. The sole reason Chris had left Beacon Hills was to make sure that Peter would be safe and if he had remained there, the wolf would be happy and full of life, while the other Hales would still be alive.

It had gotten even worse subsequently when it was revealed that it was in fact Peter who was the alpha. The bloodthirsty alpha committing all the murders in Beacon Hills. The alpha that Chris had returned to Beacon Hills to hunt. His best friend was the alpha. His beloved Peter was the monster that Chris was attempting to kill.

That wasn’t all. Peter had murdered Kate, ripping her throat out with his claws, that too in front of Allison. Then Peter had been set on fire before having his own throat ripped out by Derek, right in front of Chris’ eyes and he just stood there, unable to do anything. Everything he was used to and everyone he had known was different and he assumed that was what pain did to people.

Chris wished he could have done more. He could have intervened. He could have tried to help Peter this time. But he didn’t and so now here he was at an unholy hour, back at the treehouse, sobbing to himself exactly like he did twenty nine years ago, except then there was no treehouse then. Chris could remember how he had cried when he heard about the fire and that was nothing compared to the pain he felt this night. Chris thought about how could have saved Peter from his fate, but this time he had lost Peter completely and his mind wouldn’t stop recalling the six-year-old with the missing teeth, the crazy mischievous teenager that would joke around with him, the man Chris had deeply fallen in love with. It was like a hole in his heart, one that could never be filled.

Peter was gone and Chris didn’t want to believe that. It was Peter. He didn’t just die. He just couldn’t. Chris hated everything, he hated everyone including himself. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. Nothing mattered any longer.

This was exactly what Chris had tried to avoid and all he had done was fuel it. Even if it wasn’t directly, Chris was still to blame. He had failed everyone and he wondered what Peter had been thinking when he saw Chris standing there, doing nothing for him. His best friend, not lending a hand when he was dying. Had Peter given up on Chris as he died? It broke him into pieces.

Chris looked over at where he had carved his name next to Peter’s and he raised an eyebrow. Maybe his vision was blurry from the crying but he could make out a plus sign between their names. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to see just that. Had some kid found their treehouse and done that?

Or had it been Peter?

Had the wolf still had those feelings for him from almost two decades ago? Had Peter still loved Chris despite the rejection, despite Chris getting married to a woman? Had Peter yearned for him when he was away from Beacon Hills? Had Peter carved the sign between their names because it was his little secret since no one would know what it meant and since he thought Chris wouldn’t see it as he wouldn’t come back? Did Peter love Chris as he lay on the preserve floor, seconds away from his death? Chris would never have those answers because he was too late, too idiotic, and foolish.

His heart ached even more. If Peter did love him, he would have died thinking that Chris never felt the same way about him, though in reality, Chris did. He wished he would have just told the wolf the truth and then explained why they couldn’t be together.

Chris glanced at his watch, realizing that it was almost 3 in the morning. Here he was mourning a werewolf while his family mourned his younger sister. He had to get back home. Although his heart was in pain for someone else, Chris had his duties. He ran his hand over the carvings of the tree and drew back his sleeve, exposing the wrist he wore Peter’s gift and kissed it. Chris had worn it every single day of his life after receiving it and that was all he had of the wolf now.

*

Chris wasn’t sure whether his life was getting worse or better. First Kate, then Peter and now Victoria. However, Peter was back and it drove Chris mad. He had mourned for the wolf, cried his eyes out wishing he could have saved the wolf and hating himself for doing nothing. Then Peter had emerged out of nowhere at the warehouse and Chris couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt stupid for crying and he had been right when he thought that Peter didn’t just die. The fact that Peter had returned to the world of the living the exact night Victoria died baffled him. It was as if the universe willed it.

He found himself in the treehouse once again after Allison had fallen asleep. Chris was happy, and yet so furious. Couldn’t have Peter said something? Couldn’t he have left Chris a sign showing that he was alive? Chris wasn’t crying this time. Instead, he had settled on the floor with his head against the wall, eyes closed, rubbing his forehead trying to make sense of all the different emotions churning inside his system.

There were a few creaks accompanied by a shuffling sound and then a voice said, “Christopher, it’s me.”

There was no way Chris didn’t recognize that voice. It made him feel like his heart was about to melt. He opened his eyes to stare right into Peter’s, drowning in the beautiful blue ones that Chris had always had adored. The wolf was sitting in front of him, cross-legged. There was stubble on Peter’s face now and he was as gorgeous as always. Chris wanted to kiss the heck out of the man.

“I fucking hate you.” he mumbled, before springing towards Peter and into his arms, taking him into a bone-crushing hug. The familiar scent felt like home and Chris was warm inside. He melted into Peter as the wolf hugged him, gently rubbing Chris’ back, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Chris had already forgiven the man before the apology and pulled away to look at him again. He couldn’t begin to describe how much he had missed Peter. To Chris, it had been like an eternity until he had seen Peter again. Peter smiled at him and Chris was smiling back naturally, a few tears streaming down his cheeks. He peeked at the carving and Peter cleared his throat.

“About that… It’s probably not the right time to tell you this, but I’m not sixteen anymore, so I’m sure it’s real.” he said, and produced the wolf figurine Chris had given him.

“You loved me?” Chris asked the wolf.

“No, Christopher I love you. Always have and still do.” Peter replied, taking Chris’ face in his hands.

He wasn’t sure if he was hearing wrong. Peter had loved him all along.

“But- but you didn’t…” Chris tried to say.

“I knew you must have a good reason to hide it and just stay friends with me, so I didn’t say anything again. I could still smell it on you though. Talia was the one who told it to me because she could smell it too. Heck at first, I didn’t know and I couldn’t stand myself for falling for my best friend. I was confused why you didn’t want something more between us, but I understood eventually. And now we’re here, Christopher. What have we got to lose?” Peter spoke softly, looking into his eyes and stroking his cheek.

Chris was kissing Peter before he knew it, letting loose of all the emotions that he had been bottling up for years. He had never thought this day would come, and he tightened the hug, not wanting to let go of the wolf. He couldn’t let that happen again. Peter was kissing him back passionately, and Chris got lost in all his feelings. It felt good. The taste of Peter’s lips on his, the wolf’s touch against his skin, the warmth. He pulled back, resting his head against Peter’s neck.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve this but was glad that there was a chance for Peter and him. Chris could be with the one he had truly loved when he was a boy. It was possible now, though it had seemed impossible back then. They could still have a future. Peter held Chris in his arms as they stayed in the treehouse in silence. They didn’t need to say anything.

When Chris had run off to the preserve twenty nine years ago and sobbed to himself on this very tree, he had never imagined that it would lead him to happiness.

[fleshblueberry]

Babe wake up im going to rant about my ocs lore because im bored

Tw/cw depression, suicide, kidnapping, addiction, unreality

I write angsty stuff for my ocs oops-

When i first started making my characters they were very different in alot of ways and they were very different from what they are now. But i some how managed to glue all the chaos of my ocs together into a semi-coherent story. I went through an insane amount of world building with myself and i honestly dont think ive ever writen or typed any of it out before! its all just up in my head (and you know my memory is trash so ive probably forgotten of alot of things i made before lol). Anyways- i have two main story lines for my characters. Ethan's story, and Vevlet's story. Although i must admit Ethan's story is less complex than velvets simply beacsue it acts as a story of prequeal to Velvets story line. (Alternate realities that happen to have effect on each other basically- we love space time junk)

Ethan's world is very similar to ours, the most similar out of any of my fantasy worlds lol. Ethan's story revolves around self-discovery. I mean for it to be a wholesome/lighthearted thing that quickly leads up to dark undertones (spoilers lol). Ethan's story begins with Eef pre-transition (AFAB to NB). We get to see Ethan learn about themself and have fun exploring emotions and what it means to be alive. Ethan comes from a run-down family (mom khs, dad mia). So he lives with his adoptive parents (who i have yet to design and think about- theyre lesbians 100% though). A major moment for Eef is meeting his partner Seth. As you already know Ethan and Seth are cute ass boyfriends and stuff but guess what! im jammed their story full of angst and edgy shit bc i "wrote" most of this when i was hella depressed! Anyways Seth's family is like moderally welathy, wealthier than most i would say. Seth catches feelings for the emo chick ofc (forgot to metion Eef was definately a hot goth girl before he transitions).... uh yea anyways seth ends up flirting and crushing on eef and eef is like yea sure im bored and sad why not. and they end up dating after a while. Theres an important moment in their relationship when Ethan take Seth to this dead tree. THis dead tree is very important also bc it is where his mother hanged herself, and Ethan doesnt quite remember that bc he was very young when it happened, but he knows it as a place of comfort and he goes there alot when he feels sad or alone. this tree could be taken as symbolizim but heheh ill never tell. anyways Ethan is like yo my fevorite tree and Seth is like wtf okay bro ily and all but why a dead tree with an unstable tire swing?? ANd ethans like idk but i like it here reminds me of my childhood (op my guy) and they spend the night there. Also when ethan comes out to seth as nonbinary seth is just like ok,,, because hes bisexual lol. anyways time skip and Seth has some addiction problems once he graduates, long story short- Ethan doesnt like it bc his dad was a druggie so he trys to help Seth and Seth raises his voice and ethan is tiny compared to his bf so hes naturally like terrified of being hit and he suddenly feels his world of happy and peace he build back up bieng destroyed once again so he heads to his mothers dead tree and decides life isnt worth it anymore, and he hangs himself in the exact spot his mother did.... once seth comes off one of his highs or whatever hes like- oh fuck i yelled and acted agro to my traumatized partner. and he immedatly goes to the tree bc its Ethans favortie spot but its to late. regret is the only emootion anymore... its over for them.

now youre probably wondering how the absolute hell does that tie into velvets lore?? well do i have a tale for you. Velvets sotry begins on her 21st birthday, she is out for drinks with her douchebag bf and her bestfriend. several drinks later she yells over blaring club music shes going to the restroom, and as shes walking back she sees her bf and her bestie making out and she doesnt even say anyhting and walks out alone. She is making her way back to her apartment very tipsy. She then hears a vechile driving beside her, she cant make out anyhting theyre saying and the people in the car get out and before she even relises whats going on shes thrown into the vechile and is being beaten and yelled at. She passes out as theyre driivng to somewhere. When she next awakes she is in a barn-looking place. Concreate walls painted red and straw all over the floor. she cant stand, her legs stung and so did her entire body. for several days- she doesnt know how long she stayed in this place unable to move or do anything. Weak and starving, she gathered up her last bit of strength and hung herself on a low board (havent really worked out the details on that scence bc i keep changing my mind but she does hang herself). Cut to a space of nothingness- legit nothing- exactly its impossible to imagine nothing. In the nothing sits velvet all skin and bone, and then an entity, a hooded figure with long hair, sits next to her. No words are spoke, but the entity looks at velvet longingly. Then it tears out its eye- just full on plunges its hand into its socket and rips it out. bloody mess honestly. the entity hands its eye to velvet, and she takes it. there is no thoughts here, no sound, only actions. Cut once more to a coriners room place? ya know the place with dead bodies and tables and shit- anyways a bright light emerges from dead!vevlets chest and surrounds her entire body. *cue stunned doctor mans* Velvet arises from her death with her scars healed over and... wings. Yup shes an angel now. I mean her world already had monsters and things of suppernatural belonging but- angels are rare. She makes 1 of 2 angels in their relam as of current. Angels are "made" from regrets. Regret overflowing from two sources- one long dead and the other recent. This is where ethan comes in. Ethan's regret from how he died was powerful and sad, powerful enough for his spirt- an entity- to reach Velvets. Velvet too, had much regret in her death. So young and so many things that could have been avoided. In the days following up to her death in the barn/cellar she only felt regret. Regret for all she did and all she didnt do. So much pain summoned the entity. Their powerful forces of regret pulled them together and allowed Velvet to return- but at a price for the both of them. the entity lost its eye- symbolizing a loss of humanity and conscientiousness. While Velvet lost herself, she no longer can view her world in the same way. She has severe ptsd- like episodes and halucinations. She cant go back, she has to live through he own grief. Velvets appearnace also changes quite a bit. Her hair got longer, she has two sleek gray wings on her back, and- one of her eyes are purple now. why does it hrut her to see that eye? why is it all so familiar yet far away. Her human brain can hardly understand all the changes. But she was gifted this- she knows she must try. And luckily for her society sees angels as higher beings. They are given the umost respect but they are also greatly feared because of how misterious their origins are. The only other known angel meets with velvet quite alot through her story, he will act as a sort of guide/plot device to make things a bit easier for myself (havent worked out his lore tho or even a design for him hjbfkjsdb). Anyways im tired and its 1:35 am so thats all the lore you get for now, plus its the stuff ive thought about the most so- i dont really want to think any furtherb ahead yet lol. to many little things to work out...... i love creating but oml typing hurts after an hour or so-

Jam out!

... I don't even know what to say to this

[jenonctcity]

Charia Kingdom - Masterlist

An NCT Dream Fantasy Series.

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among  creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life...

Mark Lee - Born into a family of renowned witches and wizards, there came a time for Mark to fly the nest. The nest being their comfortable home in the middle of the bustling kingdom. After the death of the castle’s witch, 17 year old Mark was brought in to take her place. He lives up to his family’s name and has impressed the royal family with his natural talents. Now 20 years old with the trust of the royal family and kingdom, shy, quiet Mark is given a new obstacle when a new maid is brought to work alongside him in the castle. Granted she’s mostly there to clean up his mess, but he finds she plays a much bigger role in his life than just that. With the new light in his life, Mark faces a new task at hand. Keeping her safe from the horrors of the castle. 

Perils Brewing - [S], [A], [F]

Huang Renjun - Being chased from the royal family’s castle at the age of 16 was never something Renjun hoped for when he was growing up. Having lived in the castle since his birth, his mother, the castles witch, raised him alone. After finding out a huge secret and confronting the king, the king has Renjun’s mother killed, leading Renjun to use the dark powers he never knew he had to curse the Prince of the kingdom. After a bounty is put on his head for his crimes, he lives his life on the run, burrowing away in a cabin far out in the depths of the dangerous forest. A place where many lethal creatures live. Now 19, Renjun has lived in solitude for 3 years, and never expected a girl to break into his home in the dead of night. The girl he encounters is on the run herself, but refuses to tell him why. The stubborn, mentally strong, and brave girl persaudes him to let her stay with him. Can he live alongside another being when he’s still got dark magic flowing through his veins and a huge secret heavy in his heart?

Running From The Dark - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Jeno - Being the crown prince of Charia Kingdom was never something that worried Jeno. He was raised by his mother to smile when talked to, and to have a kind heart so that he would rule the kingdom differently to how his father had. At 16, he’s unexpectedly hit by a powerful curse after hearing a ruckus going on in the echoing halls of the castle. It flips his life around, his new status as a werewolf being a challenge he hates with all his heart. It turned the kingdoms sweetheart into an angry, brooding boy. Now 19, Jeno has learned how to control when he phases with the help of the remedies Mark brews for him. The only thing he can’t control is bursting into a gigantic wolf every time a negative emotion takes over his mind. No one apart from the workers of the castle know that he’s a wolf, it being kept a secret from the public. He runs in the forest in his wolf form calm him down, until he comes face to face with a rogue wolf who threatens his life with her piercing glare. After imprinting on each other, Jeno has to learn how to balance his new love, his duties as prince, his burning rage, and a secret that is revealed to him that changes his life once again. 

Stepping Into The Moonlight - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Donghyuck - Donghyuck the cheeky, charismatic boy who wasn't born a demon. As a human Donghyuck was known for his greed and crimes. So when he died at the age of 19, Satan offered him an eternal life in exchange for completing tasks. At the age of 79 he was banished from hell for failing to take the life of someone he decided upon himself didn't deserve to die. For his sin, as punishment he was sent to live on earth forever. Being immortal and watching people you make connections with die from illness, old age, or suicide was a far bigger punishment than dying. Currently 128 years old, he’s seen many of his peers around him die in many ways, and every time it happens it chips away at his sanity and positive attitude. He swore never to fall in love, but upon meeting the princess of Charia, he can’t keep away from her. After falling in love with her, it’s becoming more likely that she will be ripped away from him sooner rather than later. With his emotions flipping completely, can he manage to stop himself from sinning to save the woman he loves?

Coming Soon...

Na Jaemin - At the age of 19, Jaemin was brutally beaten by a knight of the royal family and left for dead. He was found by a creature of the night and turned into a blood craving vampire. Many years later, he’s now 210 years old and lives life one day at a time. He’s rather peaceful for a murderous creature, only being considered dangerous when he’s starved of the only thing he needs; blood. Before his death, he was an orphan, abandoned with only a pile of letters telling him of his true heritage. Something that’s always planted in the back of his mind. After hunting one night, he hears screams coming from the kingdoms small hospital. There he finds a nurse being attacked by a patient. After defusing the attack, he has no other choice but to help the wounded nurse, not being able to leave her there half dead as he was once before. The addicting scent of her makes him keep her around despite the danger that he poses to her by having her in his home. He finds himself doing something he never would have dreamed of doing to keep her around. After finding out about his true heritage, she changes, for the good or bad? Will this be a love story, or a tragedy?

Coming Soon...

Zhong Chenle - Born as an angel in heaven, Chenle had always been obsessed over how humans lived on earth. But forbidden to step foot on earth he had to always watch from above. Turning 18 he decided to take a risk. A risk that lead him to be ripped from his family, forced to live his life on earth like a mortal human. He has his halo taken from him, but is plagued by the wings that have a heavier feeling on his back than what they used to in heaven. Living the life he always wanted, he’s a happy soul, rarely being sad even if he can’t leave the house as much as he would like. His wings are hard to conceal, and with fallen angel’s being a more than rare thing, he’s scared he will be killed for his wings. You’d think if he was killed he would go to back heaven right? Wrong. After being thrown to earth, he had no means of survival other than stealing to stay alive. One night he meets the hyperactive, bubbly girl who works in the local bookstore. A friendship immediately occurs between the two. He soon finds himself falling for the girl and has hopes of living the normal life he always wanted. As he gets used to living as a human does, will life pan out the way sweet Chenle wants?

Coming Soon...

Park Jisung - In human form, Jisung looks like the worlds softest boy. His shy, slightly awkward persona often tricks people into thinking that he couldn’t even fight off a new-born baby. So why has the royal family put this lanky, slender 17 year old boy in front of the castles main gate as its protector when the rumours are that a terrifying dragon is the guarder of the castle. Well, something not many people know about the boy is that he’s a dragon hybrid. And can turn into an overwhelmingly huge dragon that has even the bravest of knights quivering in their chain mail. So far no one has ever gotten past the boy, and he intends on keeping it that way. So when a girl who looks around the same age as him slips past him and is found stealing from the castle, he’s not too impressed. She’s locked away in the dungeon, and the curious boy has to meet the only person to ever get past him. She’s sentenced to death but after pleading with his friend Prince Jeno, her crimes are pardoned, but only if Jisung keeps her with him as his assistant. He encourages her to change her thieving ways, but will he ever be able to change the hard-headed girl he argues with daily? What if you add strange feelings of love into the mix and a promise that one of them doesn't intend on keeping?

Coming Soon...

(A/N: Hi! I’m so excited to for this series I hope you enjoyed the teasers! whose are you most looking forward to? I worked really, really hard on these so please let me know your thoughts and give it loads of love! Also as all of this series hasn't been written yet, things may change in the plots and summaries but it shouldn't be anything too drastic. Also this series will contain smut, angst and fluff. Obviously no smut for Chenle and Jisung, and each story will get warnings and categories marked on them when they’re published.)

[lucyskywalker]

Daenerys always had two soulmarks. Neither of them was her sun and stars. This was a fact that always made her sad. How could Drogo, the love of her life, the one who gave her love and a child - dead in childbirth - not be her soulmate?

She wished for the Gods, the old and the new, to change the mark on her shoulder blade to a stallion running on a field of stars.

But it didn't change. Remained the same. Two wolves near one another, one grey as a storm sky and the other as white as snow, the female being with the head under the male's throat, both of them howling to the sky, where a red black dragon was with its open wings, as it was about wrap them into its warmth and protection.

Dany always knew she was the dragon, but she had no idea who could be the the wolves.

When she met Daario, she tought about the mark, but the charming men was one of the few people, cursed by the Gods to not have a soulmate.

Of course, Dany knew, that even tho soulmarks were sacred, most part of royalty and member of great houses, usually don't end up with the ones their souls belongs to. It didn't stop making her sad, because maybe, just maybe she would never live enough to meet them.

Where they live? Westeros? Essos? The Summer Slands? In wich part? This world is so big. How could I ever find them? When would I have time? I'm a queen. My people comes in first place.

When she heard the wolf howling at the distance, she could feel that a part of her was gone, angst filled her soul and members to the point wasn't easy to breath, she just didn't know why.

What happend?

~*~*~

Jon always manteined a secret close to his heart. Something, he didn't tell to anyone, neither Robb, much less to his father. The only one who knew was Arya, his little sister. His heart.

Usually, the soulmate's mark appear when someone turns ten and two. For a bastard to end up having such a sacred bond, Lady Catelyn would take it as blasphemy.

Of couse, Jon always believed would be someone else and not Arya, his little sister, his half-siter, the one who always makes him laugh. She was a child, much younger to be half of his soul. Maybe would be a Karstark? Distance cousins of the starks. Maybe a bastard serving and devoting his or her life to House Stark. There were innumerous possibilities. (He was curious about the dragon, but after knowing that could represent a Targaryen or a Blackfyre, Jon's wish to remain it secret became even more serious).

But everything changed when he saw Ghost, and then Nymeria, he knew, he just knew, it was her. It was Arya. The one who was as wilfull and wild as her wolf.

It was the only single thing, he kept secret from Arya. She would know someday, after seeing his mark, but Jon was selfish enough to want to tell her goodbye, and not having her last memory being with tears rolling down her cheeks, but of a bright smile on her face.

He couldn't protect her. He couldn't and must not have her. One day she would hate him. One day Arya would be disgusted to share the soulmark with her bastard brother. But one day wasn't the the present, and in the present he would welcome the happiness.

He was truly cursed, as all the bastards should be. He was dirty. Having a sister as a soulmate. Disgusting. He deserved the Wall and all the stones in his path.

It didn't change that he always belonged to her. All his heart and soul since Arya said "I love you, Jon" for the first time. At time, he didn't expect that would turn to be much stronger than it should be.

When he heard about Ned's death, Jon felt his heart stop. The soulmark was still there. Arya was still alive.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Breathing. Warm body. Her laugh still existed. He could still hear it.

The relieve barely existed, because after this all the scenarios was running down his head. Was she beaten up? Starving? Haressad? Lost a member? Prisioner? Raped?

He had nightmares about every single thing about what could be happening with her. The only scape was the worrying, terrifying scenario with the Others, and of course, the wildlings.

And then he met Ygritte. Someone with red eyes, but a fierce and stuborn spirit. Something that reminded him of a little girl with the eyes of a wolf and a passion for swords and flowers.

Was not a secret that there were plantiful cases where someone ends up with someone who isn't your soulmate.

There were rumours Lady Catelyn wasn't Eddard's soulmate. Rumours that Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark smashed down easily.

Maybe he could have loved her if he hasn't taken the black.

"Would you bed your sister?"

He didn't answer. Would he ever? When Arya be older enough, would he desire her as a man should desire a woman?

Arya is your soulmate. His heart whispered. Shut up. Commanded his mind.

He didn't answer Ygritte. He didn't know the answer.

Ygritte died. Jon didn't love her, no, but he cared about her. She was important, and her loss was a sad event.

"I'm sorry."

Life goes on. The War with the Others approaching in the horizon, the free folk. So just everything collapsed upside down with a tiny letter.

"I want my bride back" was written, creating a rage storm inside his soul.

I want my bride back, I want my bride back, I want my bride back.

Ramsay would pay with blood for the day he laied his hands on her naked skin.

"Your sister is not lost to you, Lord Snow."

What do you know of my heart, priestess? He wanted to ask. What do you know of my sister?

And then, he died. He betrayed the Night's Watch and he died. He died thinking about her. About the last memory he had with Arya. Stick them with the pointy end. He would never see her face again.

It was one of a lot of regrets.

~*~*~

Arya Stark was not romantic. She was too young, she just wanted to play with her friends in Winterfell, and be with her siblings. Happily ever after.

The first time she heard of soulmate, was her sister saying that hers would belong to a shining knight prince like the songs and they would marry and have beautiful babies together.

Arya said it was stupid. How could you love someone without knowing them? Sansa replied telling that Horseface probably wouldn't have a soulmate in first, and if it had, would be someone as ugly as her.

Arya cried that day, and vengefully put Sansa's new dress in the stables.

Her mother was so furious. Sansa started crying saying how unfair Arya was behaeving. Of course, Arya felt sad, and tried to apologize.

It didn't work. It never did.

Maybe Sansa was right. Maybe she wouldn't have one. It was not like Arya wanted one in first place. She told herself.

Of course, Arya felt surprise to know that Jon also had a soulmark after she told him what happend. "It is a secret", he said, "just between you and I. No one can know about it. Promise me?"

"Neither dad?"

"Neither dad."

"I promise by the old gods and the new." She repeated what her father always said be the most serious and ubreakable oath a man can do.

And then she asked to see. Was beautiful, located in his chest, right on the heart. Arya loved the wolves together, and the dragon, something like coming from the battle songs she liked to hear.

Then she remembered what it meant. Someday Jon would let her go for someone else. She would be truly lonely.

And she hated his mark that day. She didn't tell him that she disliked the soulmark. Was special, a gift from the gods, by what she heard. And Jon deserved happiness after all the cruel things she heard her mother saying about him and to him.

So just, selfshly, she asked him to never leave her, to take her with him when he finds out who it is. Jon laughed, and hugged her tightly, but didn't answer.

Arya Stark was seven at the time.

Lya Snow was a mermaid about to turn ten and two. One of a few who served and helped the Merling Queen in Braavos.

She would dance, and play the musical instruments, since she was not good at singing. Learning how to read a man, and his intentions. How to seduce and manipulate someone with a charming smile on her face and false promises of a good night. Of course, was just a training move. She wasn't attractive for men with her younger tiny body, but one day, when she gets older, those lessons would be truly important and one more weapon to use, just like she have seen The Merling Queen use it so many times.

Lya wasn't found of dresses, but the ones she had used, after finally being used to the silk, was refreshing and didn't restrained her body.

This is why she was dancing with the other mermaids near the moon pool. Giggleling while jumping and spinning gracefully. The day was coming to an end, the sky painted in different tones of yellow and orange when she heard the saillors talking about Westeros.

Something about the Black Bastard on the Wall. About treason and a lady being kidnapped.

Lya was about to get closer, to hear what happend, but then one of the mermaids held her hand.

"It is getting late, Lya. We should go before the Bravos start dancing."

Arya wanted to say no. She wanted to know about the wall. About Jon.

Lya just followed the other girl back.

She had a target to kill.

The next day, there were whispers about the body hanged in front of the sealord palace. The collar around the dead man's neck saying that it was a slaver trader.

Braavosi despise slavery.

Nobody cared.

Lya was taking a shower for the next day, when one of the girls take a deep surprised breath.

"R'hllor, Lya! Your soulmark is beautiful!"

Lya's world stoped. A girl shouldn't have soulmarks.

All the followers of Him of Many Faces should be devoted only to Him.

A girl couldn't have a soulmark.

Lya was half naked, running to the mirror in the bath room, and there was it.

Similar of one she had seen a long time ago, on the chest of a loved brother, but different.

A soulmark.

A girl have a soulmate.

Lya have a soulmate.

Arya Stark have a soulmate.

The girls were speaking excited around her, wanting to see closer. Arya just could look at her skin, near the belly bottom.

The white wolf's furr seemed to be flames, with little delicates details in blue, and there were wings on its back, barely open, close to the body. And its eyes... Its eyes were open while howling, the color of blood. Ruby red.

Continue?

[thedeliverygod]

Cinderella AU

I got this idea while watching the live action remake of Cinderella on Freeform (which is arguably the best version imo, fight me). And after blabbing about it to my discord group, ideas came together and out came this. Enjoy!

if you’d prefer to read on Ao3 or fanfiction.net please check out this link

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes: Chapter 1

For as long as he could remember, it had always been just Yato and his mother, Sakura. His father had passed away when he just a baby and for years, Sakura had never remarried. Unfortunately, that meant that she had to work long hours and take long trips once Yato was old enough to be left alone. Still, they made the most of the precious time they had together. On the rare occasion Yato did ask about his father, Sakura would always respond the same.

She would smile and laugh, “Ebisu was very clumsy, but he was the sweetest and most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. You very much remind me of him, minus the clumsiness, of course.” At that, Yato would beam.

Many years later when Sakura had come up from a trip, Yato was in shock when she told him that she had met someone that she intended to marry. In fact, he was a bit bitter; they had done just fine all these years by themselves. He had always taken care of the house while she was away and she had done just fine with the financial side of things, so what was the purpose?

It was at dinner when Yato saw a new sparkle to her eyes while talking to the new man that he understood. Sakura deserved to be happy, so he finally swallowed his pride and smiled along with the rest of them. Still, despite Sakura’s newfound happiness and his acceptance, there was something about this Kouto Fujisaki that rubbed Yato the wrong way no matter how hard he tried to shake it. But for his mother, he’d do anything.

Shortly before the wedding, Yato was burdened with another surprise; a younger stepsister named Hiiro. Kouto had described her as adorable but he honestly found her a bit creepy. She hardly said anything at all and mostly just stared at him in a way that gave him the chills. Thankfully, she mostly kept to herself and he continued to keep busy with things around to house as he always did.

Sakura had wanted the wedding small and simple, but Kouto would have none of that. He repeated that he wanted to show off his new bride to the whole world and wanted to plan an elaborate ceremony. Yato wanted to gag every time he heard it but the flattery apparently worked over his mother as that was exactly the way it turned out. The tight clothing and large crowd were enough to make him pass out, but he plastered a smile on his face as served as the ringbearer for the couple. Across from him, Hiiro looked quite unpleased to be the flower girl and he let out a small laugh at her expression.

And they were a “happy” family for a while. Then Sakura suddenly started getting sick.

It started with coughing fits, a bit of fatigue. Nothing that seemed too serious, but Yato constantly told her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself anyway. And then one day he was rattling on about something he had done earlier that morning and one of her coughing fits kicked in, he saw her pull her hand away to find blood sprinkled across her hand.

“Mother!” Yato immediately clung to her, ushering her to bed and promising he would go get a doctor. On their way up to the bedroom, they ran into Kouto and after updating him on the situation, Yato hesitantly left Sakura in his care.

The doctor unfortunately didn’t have many answers to give. He prescribed a medication to be taken twice a day, ordered bed rest, and assured them that he’d be back in a week to check on her condition.

Sakura only worsened.

It quickly got to the point that she could hardly speak. Yato stayed by her side, holding her hand and closely monitoring her small motions to make sure her every need was met. He only left the room when he begrudgingly agreed to do small tasks for Kouto, but he supposed it was the man’s strange way of asking for alone time with his wife so he let it be.

One morning Yato awoke to find that the warmth had drained from Sakura’s hands. And soon, much of the warmth was drained out of his life.

He didn’t have much time to grieve as Kouto kept him extremely busy, giving him much of the work that generally went to the housekeepers. Soon enough, he eventually was staying in the servant’s quarters rather than his own room.

Ironically, despite their relationship growing ever distant, Kouto had commanded Yato to call him “Father”. And so he did, despite the bitter taste it left on his tongue.

Years passed and Yato got more accustomed to his new lifestyle, surviving due to his hard work and the kindness of others as he waited desperately for the right time to escape. Freedom was getting so close he could almost taste it, but he still had to wait. The timing wasn’t right just yet.

He had tried before shortly after Sakura’s death and had been met with a terrible failure. He was beaten senselessly, starved, and isolated for several days.

Preferably, he wanted to leave with Daikoku and Kofuku, the cook and his wife who he had befriended over the past few years. Daikoku was a tall and burly man who looked quite intimidating at first glance but was a big softy at heart. Kofuku on the other hand was a tiny clumsy girl with pink hair and a bright attitude. They were the only staff left from when his mother was still alive, and it was mostly only because Yato purposely made a point to not learn how to cook well, at least to Kouto’s knowledge. It of course resulted in quite a few cuts and bruises for the several ‘failed’ dinners he had prepared, but it was worth it in order to keep Daikoku and Kofuku around. Afterall, they were all he had left.

“How would you feel about getting some fresh air today?” Daikoku strolled over to Yato as he hung up the laundry on the line.

He squinted and looked around in confusion, “Uh, we’re already outside?”

“I mean going into town and getting off this property for a little while, smartass.” Daikoku gave him a light smack on the back of his head, “I need a few things.”

“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly before retorting back, “Not sure if I would exactly call that fresh air, but sure. Guess it’d be nice.”

Daikoku smirked and reached into his pocked, “Thought so.” He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and pushed it into Yato’s hand, “Try to enjoy yourself somewhat, but I do really need all of this.”

“Of course, I take all my jobs seriously.” He winked before pocketing the list and Daikoku rolled his eyes.

“Just make sure you’re back in time so that you don’t get us all in trouble, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Yato ducked inside the kitchen to grab a large sack to carry the produce in and quickly popped back out.

He had only made it through half of the yard when an overly sweet voice rang out, “And where are you going, Yaboku?”

Yato looked to Hiiro and tried his best to hold back a frown as he held up the empty sack, “Daikoku needs some produce from the market place.”

“Hmm. Alright.” She accepted his answer with a hum as she jumped down from the tree branch she’d been sitting on, “Just making sure you’re not getting any silly ideas about anything like running away again.”

His breath caught in his chest for a moment before he exhaled, “I learned my lesson. You don’t need to spy on me for Father.”

“One can never be too careful.” She replied before slipping away into the tall grass.

Sighing, Yato continued on his way with a mutter, “Yeah, sure.”

Yaboku was another way that Kouto, and now Hiiro, degraded him. It was another reading of his name, but it was not his name. It was another thing that distanced him from the wonderful life he had lived with Sakura.

Still, he had plenty of things that they couldn’t take away that reminded him of her. Cherry blossom trees, warm summer nights, certain foods… Some of them were just very vague feelings, but he held on to them dearly.

The marketplace was a fair walk, but not enough to tire him out. Dealing with the merchants and the crowds was more of the issue for him. After a few relatively small struggles, he managed to get everything on the list.

“Phew…” He wiped at his forehead, feeling the weight of the sack straining his shoulders and back.

Just as he was about to turn to head home, he noticed a blonde boy frantically rushing through the crowd and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. A few people gave the boy annoyed glances, but overall ignored him. Eventually, the boy found himself directly in front of horse drawn cart.

“Move!” Yato shouted out as he pushed the boy out of the way, the contents of his sack spilling everywhere.

“Wha—” The boy didn’t finish his question before he and Yato both hit the ground and the carriage quickly came to a stop.

The coachman of the cart was immediately apologetic, asking if Yato and Yukine were okay to which they quietly nodded before carriage’s door slammed open.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” A well-dressed man stepped out and moved closer to them, his face red in anger, “You could have injured my horses or caused irreparable damages to my carriage!”

The blonde boy’s mouth opened to respond, but Yato could see he was shaking in fear.

“It was an accident, my lord. I deeply apologize for my little brother’s actions. I should have been keeping a better eye on him.” He lied through his teeth as he bowed his head.

“A mere apology is not enough! Imagine if something had happened, how did you expect to pay for this?” He stepped even closer, his palm held up as if he were about to strike either or both of the boys.

“Sir, I ask that you please stop.” A female voice rung out and Yato looked up in surprise.

A girl who long brown hair barely hidden by a hood walked through the crowd and approached the angered man.

“And who are you?” He huffed in return.

She slightly lifted her cloak to show her family crest before continuing, “These boys are with me and I apologize on their behalf. They’re… new at this.” She forced a smile.

The man was speechless for a moment before he gave his own bow and apologized back, “No, I apologize for making a scene, my lady. I will take my leave now.”

She nodded, “Thank you.”

As the man nervously went back into his carriage, Yato looked up into the brown eyes of his savior. “Um, thank you.”

“I saw what you did, you’re very kind.” She gave a bright smile as she kneeled down, looking over to the smaller boy, “Speaking of… are you alright? What were you running from?” She reached out to touch his arm but he recoiled.

“I’m fine… and I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled.

Yato gave him a stern look, “The least you could do is say thank you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Yato shook his head and flashed her an apologetic look.

“Looks like you could use a bit more help, too.” Hiyori reached towards the few apples that had collected around her feet.

He gave a sheepish laugh, “Yeah, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course.” She smiled again, asking, “So what are your names?”

“Yato.” He answered automatically before nudging the blonde boy, “C’mon, I just saw my life flash in front of my eyes when I jumped in front of that carriage for you. The least you can do is tell us your name.”

“Over dramatic much?” He commented back before hiding his face, muttering, “It’s Yukine.”

“I’m Hiyori.” She stated as she continued to return various items back into Yato’s sack, apologizing, “I’m sorry, but it looks like a few things did get a little roughed up.”

Yato shrugged and gave a grin, “We’re alive and we’re not thrown in a dungeon or anything like that, thanks to you, so… I’ll take it.”

Hiyori flushed, “I’m sure you would have managed, but… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

Yukine finally piped in, “Hey, so… That guy got pretty freaked out. Are you part of some super rich family or something?”

“Um, well… yeah.” She sighed and gave a frustrated smile, “But I hate it. I feel like I’m trapped in my own house. So I sneak out sometimes, like this.” She motioned to her cloak, “I carry around my family crest for emergencies like today, but he seemed so embarrassed that hopefully it won’t make its way back to my parents.”

“Dunno, rumors spread like wildfire around here.” Yato answered in a monotone. He’d heard far too many once Kouto came to live with them.

Hiyori bit her lip, “That’s true. I’ll just deal with it if I have to.”

“So if your family’s so strict, how exactly do you get out?” Yukine asked with his arm crossed, a bit of ire to his tone.

She smiled widely again as she explained, “Yama and Ami—they’re the servants assigned to me but they’re also my best friends. They saw how depressed I was becoming and suggested it to me. Well, Yama more so than Ami. I was really nervous about it at first, but I’m so glad they convinced me to do it.”

“But how much trouble do you get them in every time you do?” He asked with a blank stare.

“I would never—” Hiyori immediately began to defend herself but Yato interrupted.

“Look, kid. Obviously she’s from a different world than us, but we don’t know anything about her life just like she doesn’t know anything about ours so hold your judgement.”

Yukine glared but stayed silent, turning his head away.

Giving a soft sigh, she mumbled, “Thank you.”

“I guess while we’re on the subject—if you’re okay with sharing, that is.” Yato quickly waved his hands, correcting himself, “Exactly how often do you sneak out? Just because it would—it would be kind of nice to see you again. You know, just as a friend and not the girl who saved our lives.”

She gave a small giggle, “Right. Um, I used to sneak out at least once a week or so… the days kind of vary because I basically wait until every one else is so busy they won’t notice I’m gone. But…” She gave a harsh sigh, “Unfortunately it’s becoming more complicated lately. I’m of marrying age and all, so now I have to deal with suitors and…” Her groan practically turned into a growl.

“So uh, not a fan of the idea of getting married, then?” Yato laughed nervously at her sudden change in demeanor.

“That’s not it.” Hiyori waved her hands and shook her head, “I think it’s wonderful but I want it to be with someone I want to spend my life with, not who’s forced upon me. But also, the way I’m treated these days just makes me feel like everyone thinks all women are good for is just to be brides and have children and all that.”

“I can’t relate, clearly. But my mother was a wonderful person and she was the head of our family for many years so anyone who does think women are only good for housekeeping type things are sorely mistaken.” He saw a curious look in her eyes and sensed she was likely going to ask more about Sakura, but quickly shut it down, “Anyway, thank you for everything today. I really need to get going, especially since I’ve got to drag this kid along with me.”

“Who said I was going with you?” Yukine gave another glare.

Yato reached down and gently touched the top of his head which was at first met with a flinch, but Yukine relaxed as he realized it was a kind touch, “Well, you were running from something, so I figured you needed some place to go. And I’ve got the perfect hiding spot.”

Yukine took a moment before roughly shoving Yato’s hand away, “Fine.”

As they all stood up, Hiyori called out, “Be safe.”

“You as well. Hopefully we meet again soon.” Yato smiled before turning and gently shoving Yukine in the direction they needed to go.

A safe distance away, Yukine mumbled, “I don’t know why you even bother flirting, it’s not like there’s a chance in hell you could be with a girl like that if she really is from a rich family like she says.”

“I was not flirting.” Yato retorted, “I was being nice.”

Yukine rolled his eyes, “If that was just being nice then I’d hate to see what your actual flirting looks like.”

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” The older boy asked, exasperated.

“Show me this supposed hiding spot of yours and we’ll see.”

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 9

OOh, I was being dark and violent here! :D

I probably wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I never would have been, but I’d started now. I felt as if I had two existences – the six years with Hydra, and the few weeks here – and now I was going to see pictures from another existence. How many lives could one person live in twenty years?

The images started to scroll, each appearing on the screen full size for a few seconds before the next. There were a family laughing at a back yard barbecue; a girl with pigtails and a missing front tooth; ID photos, unsmiling and face on; then formal school photos, club members lined up in rows. I watched, letting them flash before my eyes. The last image appeared, taken from a newspaper article, it showed a girl – a teenager. The photo looked like one taken by a friend, she was laughing, in a bedroom somewhere. I could see the writing underneath, ‘missing schoolgirl’. The image remained on the screen, and I stared into the eyes of the girl, then got up and went and looked at my eyes in the bathroom mirror. They were the same.

I felt a jolt of recognition that had me gasping for air. That was me. Those were me, and my family. I grabbed up the screen again and sat down in the corner of the room, subconsciously feeling the need for the security of my back to the wall. More slowly this time, I went through the images again, inspecting each in turn, staring into the background of each photo at wallpaper, furniture, trees. Flashes of memory started shooting through my mind, each image seeming to come alive with sounds, smells, and then gone. I remembered the feel of the grass on my legs as a child at the barbecue, the smell of hotdogs and the sound of laughter; I remembered the blood down my shirt front as my first tooth fell out on photo day, and the feeling of poking my tongue into the hole. ID photos of my parents and brother brought back the sound of their voices, the smell of shampoo and the feel of my Dad’s stubble. Over and over I scrolled through the photos, unaware that my breathing was becoming more laboured as my brain tried to reconstruct a missing life.

Finally, panting, I let my head fall back against the wall, and dropped the screen to the floor. I shut my eyes, and tried to control my breathing. Pieces of memory continued to return, flashing onto the screen of my brain. I pressed my hands to the side of my head, desperate to shut off the flow of information but it came, faster and faster. Birthday cakes, family pets. The pain of a broken arm, the chill of a swimming pool. Names and faces. I squeezed my eyes tighter shut and pressed my hands harder to my head, afraid of what was coming. I was vaguely aware of someone coming into the room but my muscles were locked into a spasm while my brain overloaded with years of repressed memories, beaten down by Hydra. I heard voices speak, but wasn’t able to understand what they meant.

“We’re going to have to sedate her, this was a bad idea…” “Do we know who we’ll get back? The girl or the killer…” “She needs something to calm her breathing Bruce…”

A sharp scratch on my arm and I felt myself slipping to the floor, then being lifted, and then I lost all sense of my body. But my mind continued to rush, the mind powers I’d had enhanced easily overriding the tranquiliser I’d been given, and now there was no escape. I was trapped in my unresponsive body as the memories flooded back, and I couldn’t even scream.

I remembered being 14. Walking home from school in the summer, a book bag in one hand, phone in the other. I was thinking about a boy at school, about going for a swim, about a nagging I’d had from my Dad for untidiness that morning. I was at ease and relaxed, a happy kid on the edge of growing up. I remembered a sharp stab in my neck, my hand rising up to wipe away a mosquito or a thorn, and then falling to the grass verge, seeing boots approaching me and hands picking me up.

I remembered the back of a van, a long drive. A plane? Flashes of drugged memory made no sense for a while, but my mind powers meant that nothing had truly been forgotten, simply buried under layers of pain. Now, sedated on a bed in New York, the layers were stripped away.

I remembered waking to cold and dark, trying to stand and finding I was chained to a bed. Crying out for my Mom and for help, sobbing myself into a cold sleep. I remembered waking again to a man standing over me, and desperately trying to push him away with my hands and my mind, but at that point I’d never learnt to control my powers and he easily swatted both away. Shouting and crying with fear as a collar was locked around my neck, and soon learning that if I used my powers, or resisted, it would be activated.

I remembered the first time I was led to the chair. Bruised now after beatings, after falling to the floor under the control of the collar; shivering and starved and bereft of hope, except the hope I might die soon. Seeing a large chair with restraints and fighting being put in until a punch to my side knocked me over and I wasn’t able to resist. I remember being strapped in, the collar removed and a piece of leather put between my teeth, fear making me sweat. I remembered the needle going in, the feeling of ice spreading up my arm making me bite down and scream.

Still the memories kept coming. If I hadn’t been sedated, I’d have beaten my head against a wall to try and escape but to anyone observing me I must have looked peaceful and rested, unaware of the barrage of information flooding my brain while my body lay still.

Memories of repeated beatings, every time I failed to comply. Being taught to fight, all with the collar on so that if I tried to attack or escape, I would be punished. Learning to fight with knives, sticks, fists, relentlessly. Little rest, little food. More injections. Time was meaningless in my head and in the bunker, had I been there days or weeks or months when they brought out my family? Leaning exhausted against a wall, seeing the door open and my parents and brother come stumbling out, bruised and bloodied and collared.

I remember my brother vomiting with fear, my father sobbing, my mother mouthing ‘I love you’. I remember using every power I had to try and free them, kicking and screaming and punching, lashing out with my mind. Those were the first two Hydra agents I killed, two guards who had brought me to my cell. Then I saw my father, fall, choking to the floor, as his collar was activated. He writhed, purple faced as I screamed. I fell to my knees and they let him breath again.

I remembered a man in uniform in front of me. A voice. “Understand this. Your family will die. You have a choice. Submit and they die easily. Resist and they die hard. This pain will make you stronger, make you a weapon. This is the last choice you will ever be allowed to make for yourself. What will it be?”

I remember looking up, seeing the soldier’s scarred face in front of me, and my family behind. I saw my mother’s eyes on me and again she whispered. ‘It’s OK’. That had broken me then, and it broke me again now. I tried to turn my head away from the memories but there was no escape. I remember saying ‘I submit’ and then watching the soldier turn and shoot them each once, their bodies crumpling together.

After that, I remember blocking out love, fear, hope. There was nothing left. No one would save me, I couldn’t let myself be a person anymore because a person could grieve and I couldn’t let myself. Still they kept at me, training me, giving me more serum, more beatings. I remembered the time when they filled my cell with water to my ankles so I was constantly cold and wet, other times when they denied me water and kept the cell so hot my lips cracked and bled with the dehydration. I remembered being hosed down with water so icy I lost my breath and my skin turned blue. I remembered days and days without food where I was still expected to fight, any weakness punished. Every torment stripped away another layer of my humanity until I was just a core of anger, a narrow beam of hatred for the world.

I remembered each face that had hurt me. The soldiers who had taught me to fight by attacking me, while I was half starved and half naked and they wore armour. I remembered the scientists who had injected me with serum, brought me back to life from the brink of death, studied my regression to animal state with interest. I remembered the soldiers who had created each scar I had seen on my body. I remembered when I had first been allowed out on a mission, drugged beforehand so that all I was aware of was my target, then tearing through a building until I found the target and broke his neck. I didn’t know who he was, but that death was on me, his blood was on my hands as were the others that came after.

I remembered the constant changes. The gentle treatment – a bed, some clothes – that were then taken away for no reason. I remembered the days of darkness followed by the days of constant light. I remembered not being allowed to lie down, and not being allowed to stand. I remembered being taught to attack using only my mind, sharpening my mind powers until I could make blood boil from behind a wall, then my collar shocking me again every time I used them. I remembered the scarred man again, telling me over and over that I was their weapon, that my strength was forged in my pain and that they would break me down and build me in their own image.

And all through this, I remembered my mother saying ‘it’s OK’. No matter what they did to me, how they broke me down, I held on to that in a corner of my mind. Perhaps that one memory I had somehow kept for myself was what had enabled me to survive and still retain some control and some humanity, but it was such a tiny shred and I was afraid it would be extinguished.

--

My eyelids fluttered and I was aware of the soft light through the curtains in my room. The sedative was wearing off and slowly my senses made out that I was lying on the bed, that there were people murmuring in the room, that my muscles were slowly coming back to life. I coughed and tried to sit myself up but with the sedative still in my blood, I was weak and fell back again.

“Hey there”. A soft voice, Bruce. “OK, we got you, stay lying down, you’re not up to sitting up yet”. Another voice, Sam.

“We think it was just a bit much, showing you all that information so soon, we’ve taken it away, no need to think about it for now, just rest”. That was Bruce again. They didn’t realise what had happened.

I turned to look at him. “Too late”. My voice was strained as if I’d been silently screaming. “It’s all come back. You drugged me and I couldn’t escape the memories. It’s all here now. Everything I’ve done. Everything that’s happened”. My voice broke again and I coughed. Bruce’s eyes were wide with shock. “You trapped me in my head and now I know everything. You should have let me die”. I rolled onto my side, turning my face away as if they could see the horrors on my face, and sobbed.

--

I was aware of people in the room, they didn’t leave me alone for the next few days. I lay in the bed and cried, digging my nails into my hands until they bled under the sheets. There was always someone there but I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t reach out, as the horrors in my head replayed over and over. All the deaths I had caused. The loss of my parents, my brother – my fault. All because Hydra wanted what was in my head, something I’d never asked to be there. My muscled ached with tension, and I withdrew, locking myself into my head with shame and guilt.

I don’t know how long it had been, days, a week? Sam and Bruce had tried talking to me, Steve had offered me food, Nat had just sat silently. I was aware of other bodies but I couldn’t respond. I heard the door open again and someone new enter, the sound of talking, which then got louder than normal. The words still meant nothing to me.

“Just let me try ok, everyone out. It’s not like you’re having any success and you all know I’m the only person who can really understand what she’s been through”.

More footsteps, people leaving perhaps. I was only vaguely aware as my head was too filled with past horrors for the present.

Then a shadow fell over my face, someone standing between me and the light as I cried. The body crouched down, it was Bucky, his head now level with mine. His voice was soft.

“I know they’ve tried gentle. I can’t do that, it’s not in me. I can tell you though, that I’ve been there. What Hydra did to you? A lot of that, they did to me too. You’re not alone kid. And I can’t lie to you and tell you that it’s going to disappear and you’ll be happy again, although that’s what they want me to say. What I can say though, is that if you fight through this and get up and eat and rest and pretend to feel human, there will be better days”. He paused. “And I can promise you that if you can find a way to function, you can have revenge”. That made me look up. “These guys, the Avengers, they’re the good guys, we know that. They fight Hydra to make the world a better place. You and me, we have darkness inside us. I don’t think they get that. I fight Hydra to try and relieve that darkness. Or maybe to cover it with darkness of my own choosing, I haven’t looked too hard. Do that with me. By my side. Beat them, for what they did to you”

I’d stopped crying while he spoke. I had no hope then for a future of happiness but listening to Bucky, I did have hope for revenge.

[moondustis]

your teeth in my neck

pairing: jeon jungkook + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff word count: 3,7k warnings: blood mention, death mentions, vampire!jungkook summary: “There’s not a lot on his mind these days, like his thoughts have gone blank and all he sees is red. All he can think about is the thirsty, or hunger he’s not really sure yet, in the pit of his stomach. It’s like it’ll never go away and all he’s left with is the slight shaking of his hands anytime he thinks about blood.”

There’s not a lot on his mind these days, like his thoughts have gone blank and all he sees is red. All he can think about is the thirsty, or hunger he’s not really sure yet, in the pit of his stomach. It’s like it’ll never go away and all he’s left with is the slight shaking of his hands anytime he thinks about blood.

It happened on a friday night. Jungkook had never been too good at staying out of trouble, like his mother used to say. It was cliche honestly, getting beaten up on a dark alley by three guys twice his size because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. The vampire showing up and scaring the bullies away was kind of cliche too, the whole transformation thing was.

He woke up a few days later on a house he had never been before and with a man he never saw before saying he saved his life. A lot to take in.

The man, Yoongi as Jungkook later would find out, took him in on what he called his clan. It was all very trash horror movie like, without the bloodbaths, because even if there was a want in his heart to go out and murder thousands of people just so his hunger would finally be sated, Yoongi would never allow it. Instead he fed off small blood bags that came out of the fridge.

“I’m gonna die. I’m so fucking hungry.” Jungkook whines throwing his body into the couch where Namjoon was sitting reading a book.  

“For the last time, you can’t die.” Namjoon replies with a bored voice, eyes not moving from his book.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, moving so he’s pressing as close as possible to Namjoon. “I know, but I’m starving here.” He is, he really is. His eyes are bloodshot red and he keeps hurting his mouth because his fangs won’t go back to their normal sizes. “Please, let’s go out and kill a deer or something.”

He gets shoved to the other end of the couch with a loud thump. “I know for a fact you don’t want to kill a deer, Jungkook.” Still the bored voice. “Besides, you fed an hour ago. Please relax until Yoongi arrives with more bags.”

Like an overgrown child he whines, and trashes his body on the couch, the whole thing not even fazing Namjoon. He settles in, arms crossed and a pout on his lips. It’s childish, it really is, but he’s still a baby vampire if you think about it.

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything else but it’s no use, all he sees is red.

He ends up drifting off, only waking up when the smell of packed blood lingers in the air. but it’s not just that, he could also smell something a thousand times better than it, something that makes him get up in not time and lurch forward. Namjoon is faster, though, grabbing him and keeping him locked in place with no difficulty. He could die right now from how good it smells, fresh blood, still pumping through someone’s veins.

“Oh my god, you guys are trying to kill me.” Is what he says, whimpers almost, when Yoongi walks in with a human by his side. A human that Jungkook really wants to sink his fangs in and drink until there’s not a drop of blood on their veins. They shouldn’t be here.

The human is a girl, that doesn’t look half as scared as she should be when there’s this many vampires in the same room. Instead, she laughs straight in the face of danger.

“Relax, kid.” Yoongi says, voice mildly annoyed as he walks with the girl to their provisory kitchen. “I got you some more blood.”

There’s more than one implication to what yoongi just said. Does he mean the blood bags or the human? Just the thought of drinking fresh blood for the first time makes his mind go insane and Namjoon has to grip him just a little stronger. If he wasn’t so blinded by hunger he would wonder what he looks like right now, eyes as red as possible and crazy look on his eyes.

“What’s up, ____.” Namjoon says, getting Jungkook out of his daze. Why does Namjoon know the name of his food. On a second thought, why would someone Namjoon knows the name of be his food. His dreams are shattered.

“Hey, joon.” The girl is definitely close to Namjoon. Fuck, Jungkook can’t kill a friend. “Is he giving you a lot of trouble? He seems really thirsty.”

“Oh, you know… the usual.” Namjoon replies, voice calm. Jungkook would be upset that they’re talking about him while he’s standing there but he can’t get himself to mind it that much. Not when Yoongi throws a blood bag his way before dropping the rest on the freezer and closing it with a thud.

The girl glares at Yoongi. “You can’t run out of blood bags when you have a newborn so hungry that his eyes are bloodshot red.” He wonders in the back of his mind how you know so much about vampires. The thoughts are forgotten when he catches the bag easily, Namjoon still letting go of one of his arms.

“It’s not our fault he drinks 10 packs a day.” Yoongi says, voice annoyed, but Jungkook barely listens, letting him fangs rip the bag open and almost moaning as the taste of type A+ blood fills his mouth. It’s heavenly really, even if he would much rather drink from the source. “Besides, he’s eating right now. Everyone’s happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” The girl watches as Jungkook finishes the bag, a tiny smile on her lips. “I have to go, tell Taehyung to call me for fucks sake. And take care of your baby, we don’t want him escaping and murdering half of the city.”

As he watches her leave, Jungkook thinks murdering half of a city wouldn’t be that bad.

﹏

The girl turns out to be taehyung’s half sister. You were a nurse student that came around once in awhile to bring blood bags that weren’t technically stolen, but not exactly legal. Jungkook didn’t really care where they came from, as long as he could have five packs a day, and see you. He was a bit confused at first because Taehyung was a vampire and you weren’t so Yoongi explained that when Taehyung was 20, back in 2000, he had fell ill to an unknown disease and becoming a vampire was the only way his family found out for him to stay alive. Two years later Yoongi met him and they started the clan, Namjoon and Hoseok joining a few years later.

It’s cool how you deal so well with the whole thing, since you grew up around a vampire and all. And you don’t treat Jungkook like a monster, not even when he looks like he wants to rip your neck open. You just smile at him when you bring the bags and ask how he is doing.

He gets a lot better at the whole vampire thing too after a while. Namjoon and Yoongi do a good job of training him even if for the most time it’s just them testing their patience. But it makes your visits get a lot more comfortable when he can think of something else than blood and talk to you like an actual person.

“So, what did you like to eat before all this?” You ask one day, sitting on the kitchen’s balcony with your legs not touching the floor. He’s alone with you, something that doesn’t happen quite a lot because even if the others trust him now, they don’t trust him that much. But he doesn’t think about killing, not today at least.

He takes a moment to think about it. It’s been a while since he ate anything solid and the whole concept of it seems to have escaped him. “I liked… fruits.” He decides on, can almost taste it on his tongue. He thinks of lunch break at middle school and his mother peeling apples for him on sunday mornings.

“Fruits?” You get him out of his thoughts. when he looks back at you, you are raising one eyebrow like you can’t believe him. “Not junk food?”

He laughs, genuinely. You look nice today with a t-shirt of a band he never heard of and your hair up on a ponytail. He can see your neck perfectly and it’s so cliche how attracted he is to it. “I liked those too, but fruits were my favorite.”

“Like strawberry?” You seem very interested about this, and every other aspect of his past life. Just last week you had inquired him about his hobbies and music preferences, always listening to what he had to say with wonder in your eyes. It was nice, getting to know you and making a friend that he didn’t have to see every day.

“Oranges.” He replies very fast and it makes you laugh a little. He likes the sound, so much that he doesn’t bother wondering why he said oranges when they weren’t even in his top 5 fruit list. He figures out later that he said it because it’s what you smell like. Not oranges specifically, but citrusy. He wonders if your blood tastes like that too and decides that it would probably be his favorite taste in the whole world.

“Maybe i can bring you some one day,” you tell him. “we can make juice or something like that.”

“That would be really nice.” He hums. Not eating the oranges, that probably wouldn’t be nice at all. He doesn’t think anything will ever taste good to him anymore besides blood, even if he wishes desperately he could drink orange juice with you every day. But it would be nice to have your company, be with you.

﹏

When Taehyung had inquired him about all the time Jungkook spent chatting with his half sister he just shrugged, like it didn’t mean anything, like you didn’t almost make him feel human again in the short amount of time you spent talking. In the end, Taehyung wasn’t even really bothered about it because in his words Jungkook was unharmful and would never do anything to you. And even if he did you could snap his neck in a second (which was a lie because Jungkook had all that vampire strength thing, that he didn’t know how to control yet, on his favour.)

In the end Taehyung should’ve been worried because what was once innocent chatting and laughing became something more when one afternoon you kissed him, all confident and whatnot, making his head spin around from your closeness and the smell of your blood making his eyes bloom in black.

It quickly became more than that, a kiss here and a touch there, he was head over heels for you in no time. And it’s harder and easier to control himself. Especially with you on top of him like you were right now, so close he could just move his mouth to your neck and you wouldn’t even notice.

He was still a bit unexperienced in this whole thing, which was a bit embarrassing. He had never dated anyone before, just messing around here and there. That mixed with his fear of hurting you in situations like this made him stay completely still while you did all the work. You kissed him sweetly, never too much that he would lose control and do something he regrets.

“You can touch me, Jungkook.” You said taking his hands from where they were still by his side on the bed and place them on your waist. “You know that, right?”

“I know. It’s just- It’s-” he’s avoiding eye contact and blushing which makes you want to kiss him even more. “I’m a bit new to this. This being making out and being a vampire. And making out as a vampire so like, this could go terribly wrong.”

You let a laugh and peck his lips. How could he be so cute you think to yourself. He has you completely on the palm of his hand and he doesn’t even know it. “It’s okay, baby.” You let your hand move to his hair, to brush it out of his face and he looks more at ease as you do so. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen. i trust you.”

You shouldn’t trust him, not at all. He has come to realize you’re very bad at making good decisions and very good at getting yourself into trouble. And this right here is a complete red light. From the moment you sat yourself on his lap and moved so close he could smell your perfectly it was over for him. He wonders if his eyes are already red and you’re just ignoring it.

Still, he moves to kiss you because he will die if he doesn’t and the kisses soon become open mouthed with your tongue is in his mouth and he could definitely die right now, for multiple reasons. You find out that he’s a fast learner because soon his hands find their way to your hips and he grips it with the least amount of force his self control allows him to put. You let a moan because of that and that seems to snap something inside of him because he stops kissing you and moves to your jaw and then to your neck. Risky move.

He’s definitely cloud minded right now, nose pressing against your neck and it smells so nice that the grip he has on you gets just slightly more hard. He moves his hips upwards into yours, a soft moan leaving his lips and his face buried into your neck. “Baby?” you say trying to get him out of his daze but he just hums.

He looks up to you with his puppy red eyes and his fangs halfway out. If you hadn’t stop him you think that he would’ve probably bitten too deep to turn back.

“You smell so good.” His voice is barely a whimper. You can feel how hard he is against your jeans and it makes your mind just as fuzzy. You just run a hand through his hair, trying to get him to calm down. “Like oranges.”

“You’re so sweet.” you reply laughing a little, and moving to get out of the bed. he just eyes you with confusion on his face.

“I’m sorry for getting too close to your neck.” It’s sincere and you know it. You know that if Jungkook ever bit you he would enjoy it, but still regret it afterwards.

“It’s okay, Kook.” He smiles sadly at you and you peck his lips softly to make him feel better. “We just need to work on your self control.”

﹏

“So, you and ____, huh?” Yoongi is very good at acting nonchalant about things, like he never cared about a single thing during the years he has been alive. He throws the question at Jungkook on a friday night, he’s on the couch writing something on his small notebook that he never seems to finish as Jungkook scrolls mindless through his phone.

He shifts on the couch at the mention of your name and what you two had. It had been going on for a few months but he was still uncertain what it all meant. Still, he replies. “Yeah, she’s cool.” You’re way more than cool. Maybe every good adjective Jungkook can think of but he’s trying to play it cool.

Yoongi just looks at him, raising one eyebrow up. “And she’s human.” he says like Jungkook might have forgotten about it. He hasn’t, couldn’t. Your smell and the blush of your cheeks after you two kissed for hours reminded him of that very well. “A human that will be turning 22 in a few weeks, and 23 next year. Something that you won’t be doing, ever.”

It’s silence for a second because Jungkook is not sure what to say. He has the feeling Yoongi is scolding him, but he’s too calm, too collected. “And, just in case you have forgotten, you’re a vampire that could kill said human in record time. Don’t try to deny it, I know you have thought about it. I have too.”

He has of course, but having Yoongi say it so openly and admit that he has thought about it too makes something inside of Jungkook shift.

“Do you want to say something? Or you want me to give you more reasons why you’re getting yourself in trouble.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He talks back, voice just the slightly pissed off and it makes Yoongi laugh deeply.

The anger in Jungkook just gets stronger and the stoic act Yoongi has on only makes it worse. He wishes the other man would fight him instead of doing whatever this is, he had always been more act than talk. The vampire thing just gives him a reason to.

“You know she doesn’t want to turn, right?” He didn’t because you two have never talked about it before. Maybe he was trying to make it all be as normal as possible, just to people that wanted to be together and didn’t have to care about the fact that one day one of them would die and the other would live forever. “I’m not trying to upset you, kid, but ____ is a very stubborn person. She takes what she wants, and living forever is not one of those things.”

“I don’t care that she’s not a vampire too.” He replies, stupidly and it makes Yoongi laugh again.

“Well, you should.” Yoongi closes the notebook then, getting up from the couch to leave but not before turning to Jungkook and throwing him a pity look. “Because one day, she’s going to leave, or die for fucks sake, and you’re going to be heartbroken because you’re that kind of person. And one thing I can tell you, is that being heartbroken while being immortal is not very fun.”

﹏

Jungkook thought a lot about what Yoongi said. Or he thought that he should be thinking about it, but all that fills his minds are thoughts of you. You and blood, the only two things that he would probably die for.

It’s hard not to when you are everywhere. He can smell you even when you’re gone, the citrusy scent imprinted in everything he owns. He thinks of you at night, of sinking his teeth in your neck or your thighs, tasting your blood until you’re moaning because in his mind it’ll feel just a good for you. these thoughts make him come so fast that he should be embarrassed.

He wonders if one day you’ll let him do it, wonders if it’ll be good for you. He wonders if he would lose control.

The first time you let him fuck you it goes tragic.

You’re in his bed, wearing the little yellow summer dress that he likes so much, kissing him as softly as you always do. It’s so nice that he doesn’t think about blood for a while.

Everything is under control until you mutter the words that give him whiplash. “Baby, I want you to fuck me.” you say, breaking the kiss and staring down at him. You look angelical. “Think you can handle that?”

He should’ve said no, because he can’t. It’s pretty obvious by the way he gets hard so easily when you kiss him, should be obvious by how many times he has gotten a little too far when kissing your neck. But he nods his head dumbly, and you smile before kissing him again.

The kiss is a bit deeper this time, he moves his tongue with yours with ease now, letting your hands move underneath his t-shirt and running your fingers delicately on his stomach. He moans, quietly, making you smile against his lips.  

The moment he enters you is when it all goes wrong. You move very slowly, giving him time to breath but it’s still too much and in a second his groaning, deep in his chest and moving his hips upwards with so much force that you let out a yelp. You’re so wet, so warm and your arousal smells so sweet that he can’t help the grip he has on your thighs. He wants to bite you, oh how much he wants to. It would be so easy, it’s right there.

You’re there, on top of him, breathing deeply and heart beating like crazy in your chest. You clench around him once, because it’s really too much and he whines, closing his eyes. He imagines biting you on the inside of your thigh, so near to your cunt that he can almost taste your arousal. He imagines what it would taste like mixed with your blood and then he’s coming, pushing his hips into your in frantic motions and almost shouting.

It takes a few moments for him to come back to it but when he does you’re still on his lap, with him still inside of you. You are still, frozen, like any movement would be over the top. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He drops his head down on the pillows, tears pricking at his eyes. “I’m so sorry,  I didn’t mean to. It just felt so good, I’m sorry.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at his rambling, moving your hands to push his hair back. He’s so pretty like this, you think to yourself, would be even more if he could blush. “It’s okay, baby.” You say, because it is. You don’t think anything would ever not be okay when it’s with him.

﹏

You never thought much about turning, it never made a lot of sense in your head. Life was already too much and living forever sounded more like a curse than a blessing.

Still, you ask Taehyung to do it on a boring monday morning.

There’s not a lot on your mind after it, like your thoughts have gone blank and all you can see is red. All you think about is the hunger in the pit of your stomach, it’s like it’ll never go away, even though you know it will, and all you’re left with is the slight shaking of your hands anytime you thinks about blood.

There’s regret in your heart every time you think about living forever. Then you look at Jungkook and think that it can’t be that bad

[druddigoon]

Bird Song

Well I didn’t tell anyone, but a bird flew by

.

.

There’s the faint scent of something burning in her room. It smells like the aftermath of Mommy and Daddy’s fights, but Daddy isn’t here and Mommy’s never here and it’s starting to get hard to breathe. When Azula opens her mouth to cough, a strong hand clamps on her mouth and shushes her. 

She’s wide awake now, struggles and kicks her legs at the scary shadow looming over her; it grabs her legs and arms and twists them into uncomfortable positions, the room rolls as she’s lifted before she finds it in herself to scream. She sees it make a ball of fire that lights the way, warm oranges and reds much like hers, but steadier. 

Fire is the essence of power, she remembers Daddy telling her. A stronger firebender’s flame will always overwhelm a weaker one’s. He wants Azula to be the best. 

The stranger’s fire is a little flicker of life in his hand, warm and familiar, and she reaches for it the best she’s able with her hands behind her back, seizes it until it dances just for her. For a while it’s just her and the flame, ready to answer to her command. So she commands, and it flares up in joy. 

Dimly she hears the scream of a man she doesn’t know before she is dropped and the world comes to its feet. The stranger is yelling very bad things that would get Azula a fierce mouth-washing with soap if she ever repeats them. He’s large and tall and angry, but now she sees his face twisted in pain and the skin burnt off his fingers and he becomes just another human. 

They’re in one of the secret tunnels, she vaguely remembers, one she had explored maybe a year ago and never came back to because the air was dusty there were too many spider-moths. Her flame friend finally winks out so she generates another one, casting long shadows against the man’s face. 

More footsteps arrive, and Azula finds herself separated from the man by a circle of royal guards, all shouting at him to stand down. 

Next come Mommy and Daddy. Mommy throws her arms around her and holds her in a way she rarely does to her but often to Zuko, and she starts feeling safe again. Her father sweeps in with utmost regality, and the man starts snarling insults at him. Azula tries to hear but Mommy covers her ears and hums a song about leaves and vines. 

“You’ve condemned my brothers and sisters to die in petty conquests, your factories have polluted and starved my village, and all for what? Glory? Your lower classes die for some fucking twisted sense of duty, just so you have a little more coin to line your coffers! You’re a bastard of no morals, a disgraced descendant of Agni!” 

Daddy gives no reaction, but Azula can see the muscles in his neck tense up like how they do when he’s about to hit Mommy. Calling someone a disgraced descendant of Agni is a very grave insult, even more so on the royal family, who are the direct children of Agni. But like a good ruler, he waits for his subjects to speak their fill even though none of their words are important, so it’s only when the man is silent and breathing hard that he speaks. 

“Is that why you decided to kidnap my daughter?”

The man glares up at him, eyes dark with anger. “I am going to take away someone you love, just like you’ve done to me and several million other families out there.” 

Mommy pulls Azula in closer until it gets hard to breathe, and in the background she hears Daddy laughing quietly. 

“You break into the royal palace and kidnap my daughter for a few dead people? Not the healthiest coping mechanism, I must say.” Daddy has a way of speaking as if he’s breathing flames not words, and right the air seems to heat up as he continues. “You have committed a serious act of treason. Since you are the coward to steal a five-year-old girl instead of confronting me, I’ll let my daughter decide your fate.” 

“Azula,” she hears Daddy call, and snaps to attention. Does he want her to do something? Daddy still looks really angry, and she hopes that he’ll throw his anger at the man instead of at her. “By law, what is the punishment for treason?” 

The answer comes naturally; Daddy always drills her on Fire Nation laws at the dinner table. “All actions made with the intention to oppose Agni’s Children or his Nation are ordained as treason; peoples who have committed treasonous acts are subject to death by execution.”

Daddy smiles at her in pride, and she smiles back. Mommy’s face dawns into an expression of horror. “Precisely. It is the duty of the royal family to oversee such an execution. You are the judge, Azula—how should he be punished?” 

Mommy’s grip is strangling on her wrist. “Be reasonable, sweetie. Don’t do something you don’t want to be done to you.” It is just like Mommy, to ignore her daughter until she wants something from her. This time Azula is unwilling to give. 

She yanks her arm free. “Start firebending,” she commands to the man with all the authority her child’s voice can carry, not realising it is the soldier’s swords that make him rush to obey. She then takes his fire and makes it hers—this time the man notices and the fear on his face surprises her. He is making that face because of her. She flicks her wrist in a maneuver that she just learned and still feels clumsy in her child’s hands, but this time she pulls it off and the flame twists, turns like a living being before swallowing the man whole. 

That night, Azula learns control. 

Daddy praises her authority and prowess, something he almost never does, and she takes it and puts it with the rest of her happy memories (like when she and Zuko played hide and seek in the palace tunnels before Grampa sealed them off, or—oh!—their vacation at Ember Island). He says she did the right thing. Mommy doesn’t say anything, just storms out of the tunnels like thunder. Why isn’t Mommy proud of her? 

She shoots an apologetic look at Daddy and the cleanup crew before following Mother. They make it all the way to her bedroom before Mommy turns around. 

“What?” she hisses, almost feral, and Azula shrinks a little. The smell of burnt flesh lingers on both their clothes. 

“Are you proud of me?”

“For what? For my daughter cooking a man alive with his own flame?” Mommy laughs, but like in a happy way, more in a voice hitching, about to cry or scream kind of way. Before Azula does anything, her voice hardens. “Go back to your room Azula. You must be tired after all that firebending.” 

She is, but there’s something about the kidnapping that convinces her she won’t get a wink of sleep in her own bed. “Can I stay in your room? I’m scared.” Zuko tells me that whenever he has a nightmare, you let him stay on your bed. 

Suddenly Mommy’s stepping towards her; she opens her arms expecting to be carried but she’s shoving her, pushing her backwards until she’s tripping out onto the doorstep with a soft cry of pain. Ursa slides the panel door until there’s a tiny slit between them. “Go to sleep, sweetie. Monsters aren’t afraid of the dark.” 

.

.

Saw what I’d done he set up a nest outside,

And he sang about what I’d become

He sang so loud, sang so clear

I was afraid all the neighbours would hear,

.

.

Her mother hated her. Her mother called her a monster.

Her mother was a coward, she thinks bitterly, a coward who wept over wounded turtleducks and war casualties, who left without even saying goodbye. Maybe she was right, maybe Azula is an evil, evil monster, so vicious and twisted that her mother couldn’t love her, but the least she could do was turn around and face her.

Not that she wants to see her disappointed face one last time. 

Ever since Azula was born Ursa slept in a separate room from her husband, the one opposite of the master bedroom reserved for concubines, staffed by servants that reported her every move. It’s been a week since she graced this bed, but the sheets haven’t been changed since and they smell of her as if she never left. Their scent sends a stab of emotion to Azula’s chest, more painful than Father’s punishments when she messes up her katas, and she is stunned by the ferocity of it all. 

It’s a foreign feeling. Azula tries to put a name to it, picking up the side of the silken bedsheet even as her heart seizes, eventually settling on hatred, though not quite. 

She grins as her blue flickers around the edges, red sheets curling black against the head, and she has to be careful because the whole room was made out of wood, but if nothing Azula prided herself on her control. Little filigrees of smoke, weaving through the air. Blue and red, blue and red. 

Black. 

She stumbles back, breathless and trembling. The room is hazy with smoke, ashes upon ashes, and the little candle inside her splutters out. She should’ve known, her mother was no phoenix.

She hears him before she sees, him, stumbling against the corridors, like a fledgling hawk with its wing cut off—and believe her, she’s known from experience—all hacking coughs and smolder. “Azula,” he shouts through a hoarse throat, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” she says with a cutting smile, making her way to the bedside drawer. 

Zuko snarls quietly. He’s livid, but both know better than to allow their father to find out. 

Now that she has his attention, Azula picks up the memento in her hand, palms it; the thing fits nicely in her hand, but its ashes will fit even better. Wooden oni masks are so, so flammable. 

She sees Zuko tense out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses. 

Such petty sentimentality. Like mother, like son, she supposes. It’s only fitting that he took after his coddler, getting all attached and protective over such a useless object, shrinking like a beaten dog whenever Father raises a hand. It wouldn’t be surprising if he turns tail and runs from his duties when he’s older. 

“Or what?” There’s something in the glee of the moment that takes her smile,  stretches it so wide it hurts, the mask clenched in her hand trembling imperceptibly. “Or what, you’ll call mother? “

Mother left us. Don’t you remember, Zuzu? She was a coward. 

“You’re sadistic!” he snaps back, “Evil! Broken!” She’s skilled enough in reading people to see that’s he’s desperate, that she’s struck a nerve, and now he’s blindly throwing jabs in the hopes one of them sticks. She goads him and he eats it up, like a puppet on invisible strings. The puppetmaster allows the chi to surge through her fingertips, sets the room alight in a blur of red then blue then black. More ashes drift down into the carpet. 

Silence hangs like smoke in the air.

Zuko steps back, the air between them electric with tension. 

“Mother never loved you,” he says, his voice quivering yet resolute, and leaves without another word. 

Her chest feels tight, like there was a platypus-bear settled on her chest and her lungs forgot to breathe. Burning her mother’s belongings has lost its intrigue now that there was no one to taunt, so Azula stole out of the graveyard, noting the smoke lingering through the hallways. It’s only a matter of time before Father finds out, she realizes. She dusts clinging ashes off her clothes and wonders who casts the blame first.

(Azula does, in the end. When their Father beats Zuko black and blue, sends him crawling to bed without dinner, Azula laughs because she doesn’t know what else to do.)

.

.

So I invited him in, just to reason with him

I promised I wouldn’t do it again

But he sang louder and louder inside the house,

And no I couldn’t get him out

.

.

Mai covets her knives like secrets, steel-edged kunai and shurikens and needle-blades. Azula had given her several on her fourteenth birthday, an old set made from carved dragonscale, light and durable, and watched them disappear into the fold of her sleeves. Nobody knows how many she owns (she’s counted at least forty-two once, during sparring practice) but she cares and sharpens them all to pinpoint precision. 

She hones her skill like blades. They are her defense, her redemption, her identity, and she hones them relentlessly until the trees around her house are more hole than tree and her fingers are worn to bloody stumps, nails clipped against harsh metal. Azula remembers seeing her etched with shallow cuts across her face and arms, back when she first started; now, the only scars she bears are the ones inside. 

Ty Lee, the youngest of her septuplets, never gets any attention from her parents. It’s a kind of freedom that has gotten into her head. She is flighty, flirts with death as if it were her partner, leaps up to catch passing hopes and dreams knowing nobody would catch her if she falls. And she’s fallen. A lot. 

She has the most broken bones out of all of them. Her left leg’s been fractured in five places, her right leg even more. Once, when they were little, Azula found her sprawled on the stone courtyard below her second story room, red cascading out of her cracked skull like a fountain. Ty Lee looked up at her beneath the blood running down her face and grinned, all wild glee on bloodstained teeth. Those concussions must’ve gotten to her head, because she’s the only one of them that never grew up. 

Azula never talks about her training with Father. 

There are rumors, whispers amid nobles and peasants alike. The assassin, a child who beat a Yu Yan in a sharpshooting match, who would be recruited to the military a hundred times over if she weren’t a noble’s daughter. The acrobat, who can take master firebenders in the blink of a second, who steals one’s chi right out of their body with a simple prod of her fingers. The princess, the favored heir who mastered her firebending at the ripe age of eleven, the youngest in firebending history. The princess, who burns a blue like no other and breathes lightning. Precocious, they say. Natural prodigies.

 Azula scoffs at the notion. If they are prodigies, they’re ones born of blood and sweat, wounds and burns and breaks. Talent is earned, not given. Her father has said that with great power comes great sacrifice.   

On the days where Father is too busy with meetings to train Azula, she strings Ty Lee and Mai along to practice near the palace. The courtyard is a blur of movement, the low hiss of flame followed by the twang of knife hitting tree. Ty Lee dodges Azula’s fire dagger and manages to get away as she pulls back to block an oncoming blade. Mai calmly evades her ensuing bout of flames, but is stalled as Ty Lee feints and comes up behind her. 

When they’re finished, they catch their breath on the banks of the turtleduck pond (which is nothing but clear water and koi now—she’s taken care of the little flock of problems a long time ago) and talk about everything and nothing. Azula enjoys the mundanity of it all, even when the conversation is more akin to a field of landmines than anything casual. 

“We’re leaving.” Mai breaks the silence with a bombshell. “Today.”

Her words snap Azula out of the lull of midmorning. She stares at Mai in a moment of weakness, then, seeing the other girl regard her with raised eyebrows, killed the emotion on her face. 

This is a mistake. It has to be.

Your father is a political asset to our nation’s council and he would be foolish to discard a chance to be in the Fire Lord’s good graces would be the pragmatic response. I know ways to secure political positions for your entire family, to get bills passed that will be beneficial for your party, right under the council’s noses would be the bribery. I’ll tell them all about how you were the one to spill the sacred braziers in the Fire Temple, not me would be the blackmail. After all I did for you and Zuko would work wonders to Mai’s (muted) sense of shame. 

Friends don’t leave each other like this would be too close to the truth. 

“You’re lying,” she ends up saying, “You can’t possibly.”

Mai sighs, as if steeling herself. Azula spies a flash of silver peek out of her silks as she fingers her knives. She opens her mouth—

—And Ty Lee leaps in for the shockwave. “We’re both leaving.” She sounds almost apologetic, and for a second Azula even believes her. “Mai’s father was appointed mayor of some Earth Kingdom town a fortnight ago, and I want to run away and join the traveling circus that’s been around town lately. It’s not like my parents care where I am, and I want to be somewhere where I’m not part of some matched set.”

“You aren’t part of a matched set with me.”

Ty Lee sets her jaw. “Yes, but ever since Zuko left you’ve been so busy with training and war meetings everything under Agni! This is the first time we met in about a month!” 

“So you and Mai decided to leave. And nobody thought to tell me this until now.” Azula says quietly.

Ty Lee averts her eyes. Looks to the pond, as if peering at ghosts of turtleducks. “I’m sorry.” 

Azula is the princess of the Fire Nation, heir to the throne. She’s played political pawns against each other like pieces on a chessboard, helped orchestrate successful military maneuvers in the Earth Kingdom; later on, she would be the one responsible for the death of the Avatar and the fall of the Impenetrable City. She is a prodigy, feared and revered, always the helm of power, always the grip of control. Yet she is not good enough to keep these two girls from leaving her. 

“I thought we were friends,” she hears someone say in her voice.   

“We still are,” Mai cuts in, though softer now, the defiant set of her jaw melting away. Azula hates how much it hurts her. “We’ll never stop.” 

(Years later, on the metal deck of a once inescapable prison, she’ll say “I love Zuko more than I fear you” and shred her promise into pieces.)

 “We’ll always be by your side, ‘Zula. Just farther away.” Ty Lee hugs her with hours, days of pent-up anxiety and frustration. When they separate, it is a goodbye in and of itself. 

(On that same deck, she’ll break her companion’s trust and sanity in one fell swoop.)

“I’m not a coward. I don’t need anybody at my side.” Gritting her teeth—she’s been slacking on the threats, they should love her more—Azula abruptly shoves off Ty Lee’s concerned arm and heads back to the palace. 

With every step, she is alone. 

.

.

I picked up the bird and above the din I said

That’s the last song you’ll ever sing

Held him down, broke his neck,

Taught him a lesson he wouldn’t forget

.

.

From the safety of the tavern window, Azula watches Zuko cry over his uncle. 

Or not. She can’t really tell from there she is, but she can sure hear it, and, if his plaintive cries are any indication, little Zuzu is distressed. 

She allows herself a thin-lipped smile. Three years in exile have weathered her brother just as three years alone in the palace have intensified her, and yet he bears the same faults like a scar. And Azula knows those weaknesses, those fears, knows they are not of his flesh and bone but of the people around him. Her fuddy-duddy tea-loving hooligan of an uncle needed to go down anyways, so it was a two-birds-one-stone kind of deal. 

Wind whistles through the ghost town, making Azula shut her eyes to block stray sand. When she opens them again, Zuko is clumsily supporting Iroh, and one of the tribe peasants—Katara, she vaguely recalls—is stepping forward with one hand on her water pouch. Azula tenses, expecting a flash of ice and blood, but none comes. Instead, Katara kneels by the two, as if to heal. 

Stomach roiling, she turns away and leaves before she can watch the rest of their exchange. The crown princess has places to be, namely finding the whereabouts of her two allies. 

As she mounted her mongoose dragon, however, Azula’s mind wanders back toward the ghost town gathering. 

It wasn’t like she held any attachment for uncle. The old man was always away on war campaigns, or, after Azulon died, a ghost in the palace. She felt immense satisfaction when the lightning left her fingertips and struck him square on the chest. He was a traitor to the crown, and his death was as good as guaranteed.

Azula doesn’t make mistakes, after all. 

Uncle was a coward. A shell of former glory days, the taste of sweetness gone sour. He’s lost his son and she her mother, he turns tail to the enemy while she’s still standing. Father’s said that Azula is already better than his brother (there seemed to be a disappointment sibling every generation, it seems) could ever hope to be, and yet in his dying throes he’s surrounded by his nephew and the Avatar’s friends, while Azula flees alone. 

The waterbending peasant offered to heal him. 

Why? If her sources are right, she is the last waterbender of the Southern Tribes after an (apparently unsuccessful) string of cullings. Someone of that background would harbor intense animosity toward a figure of her enemies, descended from the man who ordered the cullings in the first place. And yet Azula saw her kneeling down toward her uncle, hand extended, a gesture of peace in the midst of war. 

What did Iroh have that Azula didn’t? What virtue did a disgraced traitor possess that the Crown Princess lacked, that made Zuko follow him like a puppydog and the waterbender extend a healing hand? A true ruler knows that loyalty is won with fear and influence; Iroh lacked both. 

The Princess snarls silently, guiding her mount with sharp jerks toward the scene of a scuffle near the river. Mai and Ty Lee are on the banks, suspiciously damp but not too worse for wear. 

“Nice of you to swing by,” Mai says dryly, collecting her knives from where they’re lodged into trees. 

Azula ignores her. “We lost.” She is sore and tired all over, but keeps perfect posture as she settles on a jutting rock. “I expected the Avatar to be there, but then…” She chews on her cheek, suddenly ashamed. She’d miscalculated, something she’s never supposed to do. To fully admit she overlooked something, could overlook something, would be a weakness. 

“But then…?” Ty Lee, never the one for boundaries, edges her on. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mai look up too. 

“It’s nothing much. He went into the Avatar State and I couldn’t fend him off.” Better to appear she met a powerful spirit head-on than to confess she fled from her own brother and uncle. She’s sure Mai still has a soft spot for him, and Ty Lee would cry if she knew Azula killed Iroh. 

Ty Lee wilted. “Aww, that’s too bad.” She hesitates, somehow managing to fidget through a handstand. “Sorry we couldn’t manage to stall them. Mai and I had it all under control until a huge furry thing came and slapped us into the river!” 

Azula waves a hand in dismissal. “Apology accepted.” It wouldn’t do to reprimand the two when she herself had failed. “I expect both of you to analyse your battle and see what went wrong, as well as what you can do better next time. Once you’re done picking up everything, Mai, we’re setting off. There’s a military base not far from here.” 

She returns to her mount. The river gurgles softly in the ensuing silence and she fiddles with her reins, suddenly contemplative. “Hey, if we happen to be fighting the Avatar and I got struck by lightning, would you drop everything to help me?”

“Yes!” Ty Lee jumps enthusiastically at the question. Azula spies her knuckles purpling in an angry bruise and looks away. She has always been eager to serve. “You’re one of the most important people in the nation, Azula, and I’d follow you anywhere.” 

Her words are flattering, but not what she’s looking for. Azula turns to the Mai. “And you?” 

Mai raises her eyebrows. Her mouth is set hard on the edges, as if she’s deciding whether she’d be better off bored at home or bored with Azula. “Honestly, Azula, this is redundant. I expect the Princess to avoid being struck by lightning in the first place.” 

They are both right; she is here to serve her nation to the best of her ability, not ponder on some twisted sense of dependability. As long as she abides by her father’s lessons and keeps control on her subjects and cuts out the loose ends that threaten to hurt her, she won’t ever need anybody to fall back on. 

Azula doesn’t fall. 

The trio arrive at the base by sunset. Azula settles into her sleeping bag and dreams of the long way down.

.

.

But in my dreams began to creep

That old familiar tweet tweet tweet

I opened my mouth to scream and shout,

I waved my arms and flapped about

.

. 

She’s seeing blue as she skids across the battlefield, sparks fizzling out like fireflies around her. Zuzu’s standing steady above her—he’s changed, a stranger, they all were—there’s blood in her mouth, roaring in her ears, yet her normally clear mind’s lost to the foggy haze of betrayal. She’s slipping, and he knows it. 

Azula tries to get to her feet.

The air buzzes with a taunt and she’s slipping, slipping, bares her teeth (I’ll show you lightning!) and feels the snap of ozone as her sanity lances past her fingertips. She aims it away from Zuzu and at the water tribe peasant, watches the split-second expression of fear in her eyes, and laughs to forget the tears in hers, thinks that’s the last song you’ll ever sing.

She miscalculated. Zuko loved Katara than he feared Azula. 

Her control through fear was her highest exaltation; now it is her greatest downfall.

She’s five years old again, this time bound in metal-link chains, tear tracks burning down her face, her mother’s heavy disapproval laid across her shoulders. Her ancestor’s greatest companion steaks like a dragon across the sky, a testament to her failure; in the end, Azula is weak. From the beginning, she is alone.

Azula cries because she doesn’t know what else to do. 

.

.

But I couldn’t scream I couldn’t shout,

The song was coming from my mouth

The song was coming from my mouth

.

.

Ao3

[they-them-pussy]

the only contribution i can do for a fix it for endgame rn is me and sib speculating what would be a perfect end scene and our pitch was this:

so they kill thanos, and everything is in shambles post battle. new york is in shambles. but they're all alive. everyone who was killed in IW, loki and the aesir and vision and gamora included, are all there.

reunions are had. fathers reunite with sons and sons reunite with fathers and daughters reunite with mothers and parents reunite with children. families find each other again. someone is screaming and crying from disbelief and laughter. we've won.

new york has been in shambles before. new york can rebuild again and rise again. everyone is back now. this is hope.

someone says, "does anyone want to get shawarma?"

cut to everyone who fought just crowding in a busted building. there's so many of them they're just dragging out tables outside of the building, or stacking their stuff on rubble that can be makeshift tables. the camera is outside, and it pans to the characters who were introduced the latest, the captain marvel cast. nick passes by and claps carol's shoulder, but he's going somewhere else. we hear carol laughing.

camera pans to another table group again, to the black panther team. we see t'challa and shuri and okoye just having a good time with the rest of the soldiers. they all look relieved to just be around each other again, okoye especially, who saw t'challa fade before her very eyes, and likely came home to find shuri had been dusted too. she is glad and relieved and so, so happy.

camera pans to valkyrie and korg and heimdall, and all the aesir who've never tried shawarma before. valkyrie's sworn off booze but a little revelry is called for this time. she raises a bottle in toast of their victory.

camera pans to peter parker just setting down his food. tony stark passes by and ruffles his hair and the kid laughs and they share a hug. tony hugs him. tight. he's lost this kid once. watched him fade once. he never wants to see that again. but he has somewhere he needs to be, so he points to somewhere off screen, Peter's eyes go wide and he's laughing. ned and aunt may come running, because tony called them, and they barrel peter with hugs. tony smiles, and walks away towards where's he's supposed to be.

camera pans to stephen strange and wong by their table, relaxing, wong happy everything's finally settled down enough that they can all breathe. someone portals some of the food away from their table and a little lighthearted scuffle happen. stephen looks exasperated but they all deserve this fun.

camera pans to a girl mumbling 'excuse me, excuse me' through the crowd. it's cassie. she finds her father, arguing with hank about something, but he immediately pushes that aside as soon as he sees his daughter, alive and well, and very, very worried about him that she and her mom and stepdad drove all the way to new york to find him. tony told them where scott was. scott is crying, hugging her so close and kissing her cheeks. hope and hank and janet share looks. they put their arms around each other and hold each other tight. their families are complete. there's incoming cacophony. luis and the rest of the xcon gang suddenly group hug scott, to everyone's surprise, but scott is laughing.

camera pans to the guardians table. rocket is fussing over groot, who's poking at the food. drax and mantis are equally enraptured by the strange dish. nebula and gamora are sitting close, sharing smiles in relief, sisters having found each other again. peter quill reaches over to hold gamora's hand and squeezes it, and she gives him a fond look. nebula is so happy for her sister. drax tries to eat an entire plate of shawarma whole.

camera pans to wanda and vision and sam and bucky and rhodey and pepper at their own table. wanda is exhausted, leaning against vision, both in relief at having him again and terror that this isn't real and she'll lose him again. sam and bucky are arguing about something, but it's not anything serious. rhodey is just digging in because he's starving. we see tony again, passing by, and he talks to rhodey and pepper for a brief moment. pepper gives him a kiss and tells him to go catch up with his friends. he deserves it after so long in space and isolation.

the camera follows him. we see a shot of his back first, because he's walking, and then he turns to the side to get around the table and we see them: the original cast. steve and bruce and clint and nat and thor and loki. the ones who were around for Avengers 2012. they're all tired and exhausted.

clint and nat are holding hands, clinging to each other, grounding each other. they've survived. they will continue to survive and they'll have each other backs.

steve looks battered and bruised but his posture is unguarded. for once not an ever vigilant hero but a man just letting himself savor a victory that's taken so much to earn.

bruce is too. hulk's smashed more in his life and they're both tired. they've finally beaten thanos, and he's so glad all the aesir are back. he's glad thor and valkyrie are okay. he's even glad loki is okay. he's glad everyone in his team is okay.

thor is tired, having fought harder than he ever has in his life. he's lost everything and he's just gotten it all back and he's glad but there's that disbelief and what if there. he's still letting it sink in. he's watching the table where the aesir are. he's watching everyone. he's watching loki, sitting a little far away from the table, and he scoots over, an arm open, as if to say. you're welcome here. banner and i know you've changed. we've seen you fight today. we've seen you cover our backs. you are welcome here.

the table is frozen, waiting, and tony rolls his eyes and pushes loki's seat near the table. he claps his back. says, don't be a stranger, reindeer games.

loki is expecting something, a blow or someone to complain, but they have all seen him on the battlefield. they've seen him protect thor and bruce and valkyrie and peter parker bc hey THAT'S A CHILD and they're too tired to fight and argue logistics. right then loki had fought with them and not against them, and that's enough for a seat at the table, even for just now. thor pushes the plate of shawarma to him. he says, it's good, try it.

tony sits down, watching the exchange. he smiles fondly, because they have all been through a lot but they've all been through a lot before too. they will rebuild. they will rise again.

the camera zooms in on his face, as he smiles and takes everything in, everything he has fought to preserve and protect. everything his oath to no longer be a merchant of death has accomplished.

he looks at the camera, and he's looking at us.

he smiles, wide.

cut to black.

silence.

slowly, the words 'Thank You' fade in. a thanks to everyone who's been for the ride for the past 11 years, through the good and the bad

end credits

[ask-the-noahs-ark-circus-crew]

Backgrounds of the Circus Members

Original content? On MY dash?? What is this blasphemy???

Yes, I’m baaccckkkk (for the most part)!!!! Sorry about that hiatus, but I’ll do my best to get all of these requests done as promptly as my schedule and brain will allow. Thank you all for being so patient with me and for being so supportive, it really means a lot to me! And to celebrate, I’m kicking it off with some heavy duty angst because I love writing it and making myself cry! 🙃😆

Without further ado, @asktenshi-grace requested the backgrounds of the Circus Crew.

TRIGGER WARNINGS. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH ANY OF THE FOLLOWING: Mentions of abuse, prostitution, abandoment, drug and alcohol abuse, mentions of child prostitution, angst, child kidnapping, selling children, family issues, homeless children, parental death, and body horror/dramatic injuries. I imagine the lives of the circus crew as being tragic as hell to match the drama of the anime. There is nothing graphic in these, it is all briefly mentioned!

•Joker: It has been established that Joker is the bastard child of a prostitute, but his mother remained rather indifferent of him. She at least kept a roof over his head and fed him, but she wasn’t around all the time so he essentially took care of himself. One day when he was seven, he had been left alone for a week and he began to worry- while his mother had often been gone for most days, she had at least returned once in a while to make sure he was alright and to feed him. Police and real-estate folks came to his door one day, completely surprised to find him there and thinking that he broke into the home. They called him a heart-less urchin for breaking into a dead woman’s home and throw him out of his mother’s house. He eventually found out that she died of syphilis and hadn’t bothered to tell anyone else about her son. Prostitutes who knew his mother sometimes took pity on him and would give him some of their earnings if they were ever able to, but that ended when they died of syphilis as well. Often times he walked past his old home, seeing it occupied with a large and happy family. He would envy them and resent them for having something he thought he would never have- until he met the rest of his broken misfit family.

•Snake: Snake was born with lamellar ichthyosis, a very rare genetic disorder that creates very thick patches of skin dispersed all across the body that dries out very quickly (research yo!). He was born in a well off and highly educated family, which is why all of his snakes are named after famous English authors. He was home-schooled for the most part until people came to his home and threatened to kill him, believing him to be some kind of devil incarnate due to his snake-like appearance. Unlike the rest of the crew, his parents loved him very much and argued with these people fiercely. Hating to see how his family’s reputation was being ruined because of him, Snake snuck out while his family was sleeping and ran away when he was ten. He was eventually kidnapped by human-traffickers and was sold off to a freak-show side show as the “snake-man”, where people openly laughed at him and poked fun at him. The only comfort he had were his pet snakes and he would talk with them to cope with the trauma of living in a cage. Of course, the circus crew rescued him one miraculous night when he was fifteen. He was so frightened that he only spoke through his snakes since they were there only ones he ever spoke with, though he slowly begins to come out of his shell when he sees the deformities of the rest of the troupe and is comforted by it.

•Beast: Born as Mally, her mother worked as a scullery maid for a rather upscale family. Her mother was having a secret affair with the master of the house, making sure to keep it a secret from the rest of the family until her mother had gotten pregnant. Her mother did her best to raise her in secret, but eventually her master found out and was thrown into a rage: if it got out that he had an affair with a maid in his house and gotten her pregnant, his reputation would be ruined! He threw the two of them out, when Beast was only three. Her mother had been forced to work as a prostitute, but she was so ashamed and embarrassed at her daughter growing up knowing that her mother worked such a revolting profession that she had abandoned her altogether. Beast had long since forgotten her original name and has been living on the streets for the longest amount of time out of the rest of the first-stringers, which is why she is one of the more hostile out of everyone else. Joker was the first person to come across her, noticing that she was missing her right leg similarly to how he was missing his right hand. She had initially threatened Joker, but seeing that he was just like her and had both of his legs she figured that they would be able to help one another survive.

•Dagger: Dagger grew up in an orphanage and worked for a textile factory. When he was 9 years-old his leg got caught in one of the machines, forcing the factory to shut down for the day. Doctors came and they had to amputate it due to how terribly mangled it was, much to his absolute shock and horror. The orphanage was eventually shut down and he was left to fend for himself on the streets. After living for two weeks in the street, he became terribly sick due to malnourishment, starving, and being dehydrated. Beast was the one who found him, barely alive, and rushed to go get help from the others at the time: Joker, Jumbo, Peter, and Wendy. They scrapped together whatever money they managed to get that day and fetched him medicine, fed him whatever scraps of food and water hey could get their hands on, and did everything they could to get him better. He managed to survive and is grateful to everyone, especially Beast who he had grown particularly fond of.

•Doll: Her mother had died while giving birth to her, and her father had grown to hate Doll and blamed her for her mother’s death. He was an abusive drunk, but one day he stepped over the line. He burnt her face on the hot stove and threw her out onto the streets when she was only five-years-old. The other members had happened to be in that area when they heard all the commotion and seeing that a horrible man had terribly injured a poor young girl was not right. Even though they were young, Doll’s father was their first real kill. Beast and Wendy had taken Doll away from the scene before any real violence occurred, fleeing to a nearby charitable hospital to treat Doll’s wounds. Joker and the others came by to check in on her and visit her every day, and Doll immediately grew bonded with them due to never having recurved any real affection in her life. When she was fully healed, the nurses offered to let her stay at an orphanage. Doll refused, saying that she already found her family. Joker and the others told her that they wouldn’t be able to care for her properly, but she didn’t care so long as she was with them.

•Jumbo: Jumbo was born as an incredibly large baby, so it came to no surprise that his mother had died during childbirth. He was originally raised in an orphanage, but the cost of caring for such a large child became too much for the orphanage to bear and so Jumbo had no other choice but to leave so that he wasn’t a burden on them. As he wandered the streets people openly mocked him and threw stones at him, calling him a monster for being so freakishly huge and fearing that he would be dangerous due to his brutish strength. Beast and Joker happened upon him one day while he was being mistreated and stood up for him against the crowd: Joker got beaten up while Beast scared everyone off with her fiery temper. After making sure that he was alright, Joker offers to let Jumbo join him and Beast seeing as they were all deformed and could help each other out, which Jumbo agreed to.

•Peter and Wendy: When they were babies, Peter and Wendy were sold off to a brothel to serve as entertainment by their parents, who were avid abusers of jinn and other drugs, for drinking money. Peter and Wendy were primarily raise by the barmaids, though that wasn’t saying much since they didn’t know how to properly care for infants. The two thought that they would only ever need each other and refused to let anyone get emotionally near them, and served as entertainment by dancing and doing acrobatics they taught themselves. Once they were approached with the offer to sell their bodies to paying customers they ran away together, figuring that living in the streets and dying would be better than child prostitution. They ran to the East End and found the shelter that Joker, Jumbo, and Beast has made and claimed it for themselves- until the trio came back. There was a bit of a scuff amongst everyone until Jumbo pulled them apart, mostly by picking up Peter and Wendy. Seeing as how they were disfigures as well, Joker offers to let Peter and Wendy stay with them. Being the first time anyone had shown kindness to them the two become suspicious of Joker, but they agree to stay with them. They bond with them basically overnight and are willing to fight and even kill for their family.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 201

Arachne was not surprised to land, foot first, into some thick, jelled gunk on the cement. She glared at her bare feet as Adriana made sounds of disgust. How? Just how was it that the stupid portal almost always dropped her in or near something disgusting to step in?

“What the fuck?” demanded Adriana as her feet hit whatever the gunk was as well.

“Well,” said Arachne with a roll of her eyes, “I did ask if you wanted me to save your shoes, didn’t I?” She reached into the gate space and pulled out her pair of shoes, a towel, and a bottle of disinfectant to clean her feet. No clue what was actually in the gunk they were stepping in.

“Arachne?” asked a voice.

She looked up into bright amber eyes that mirrored her own and grinned. “Papa!” she said. She couldn't tell if she was happy, relieved, or just tired. From the look on his face he couldn't either.

A green and black portal opened and Loki, with his brother Thor right behind him, strode out and smiled at Arachne who’d always had a special place in her heart for the uncle who’d taught her how to prank people. “See, Brother?” Loki said in a warm, casual voice. “It’s exactly as I said. I’m not slipping off to do something—mischievous.”

The “this time” was unspoken. Then again, in this group, it didn’t need to be.

Adriana, who had been behaving, decided that she was going to try to jump out the window instead of accepting the hand leading her to her punishment. Arachne, who had spent God knew how long hunting the other girl through other worlds and had been frozen, starved, beaten, and stepped in only God knew how many gross, sticky substances, was having precisely none of it and grabbed the back of Adriana’s neck to prevent her from getting away. As much as she had loved meeting some of the people that she had, she was not going through that shit again.

“You have no idea what will happen if she takes the souls back!” Adriana hissed.

“True,” agreed Arachne. No one had any idea what was going to happen to Adriana. Mostly because, and this was funny, people only had one soul per body. They did not go out commandeering the souls of other people to make themselves stronger.

Arachne also did not care. Adriana had done this shit herself. Or, as one of the Wade’s she’d meet had said, “She made her bed, let her lie in it.”

Adriana glared at her as Loki grabbed her, wrapping her in his power to immobilize her. “This wouldn't have happened,” she growled with narrowed eyes, “if I had found the light soul!”

Arachne stared at the girl in shock for a moment. She hadn’t found the soul? How? It had been so obvious!

The winged girl doubled over in laughter, leaning on Peter’s side as he watched with gentle amusement. “Can—can you—believe that?” she gasped between laughs. “She couldn't—find—the soul!” She leaned one arm on her papa’s shoulder and looked over at Adriana with a wide grin.

Adriana’s eyes widened in realization. “No,” she gasped. Arachne merely nodded, stifling giggles. “No!” said Adriana once again. Loki, with a supreme sense of timing, opened the portal to Hel’s world. “Arachne you bitch!” screamed Adriana as Loki pulled her through the portal.

Peter shook his head as he gently patted Arachne’s head. “I think Wade and I have been teaching you bad habits,” he gently chided.

“Maybe. Hey, does our Natasha cook?” Arachne asked as she put on her shoes. “Because in another world, she makes this fantastic food. I think she called it stroganoff?”

Thor looked at the happily chattering girl with unusual solemnity. “Are you not concerned for your friend?”

Arachne paused. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t concerned. She’d also be lying if she said there wasn’t a part of her, just a tiny bit, that was secretly thrilled at the idea of Adriana paying for her past misdeeds. That was the part that had been drowned, injected with poison, beaten almost to death, buried alive, almost frozen to death, starved, tortured, and learned that not only was Adriana turning humans into human spider hybrids, not only did she control their every move once they turned, but that she made them do unforgivable things while doing it.

She chose her words carefully. While Loki may have always been her favorite uncle, she did like Thor and didn’t want to alienate him. “There are worlds,” she said slowly, “where there is no land. In one of the worlds I went to, the versions of everybody here were fish. Merfolk. There were no humans. In that world I sat perched on the single rock above the water.”

She could tell that Peter was puzzled, but Thor was just waiting for her to finish. “In that world, one of the merfolk had magic, and came to find him. He said his magic told him that we could help each other.” Arachne felt her wings flip a little as she tried to think of the best way to explain the situation. “I had no reason not to talk to him, you understand,” she said. Not to mention that it had been that world’s version of her favorite uncle and early enough into her world hopping that she hadn’t really been wary or suspicious.

She paused and looked at Thor, who was still watching her intently. Humans would have asked her to get to the point, but she’d lived on Asgard and knew that they used seemingly unrelated stories to explain thoughts and ideas. “His brother had used a magic, a forbidden magic, that was changing the very way that the merfolk lived and acted. Now, this magic was not cast out of malicious intent,” Arachne clarified, “nor was it cast to hurt. See, the person I was talking to had been shunned—thrown out of the pod—and his brother had cast this magic so that, despite not being part of the pod, he’d be able to survive. What his brother didn’t know was that he was the most powerful magic whatever that had ever been born to the pod, and he hadn’t been shunned because the pod wanted him to die, he’d been shunned so that he had the space to practice with his magic, since it was a little out of control.” Arachne didn’t realize she was moving until she felt her hand rub the area where, for a short time, she’d had gills. Punches to those gills had hurt, worse than punches to her neck did.

“I don’t understand,” Thor said with a frown.

“Hel is in charge of all the souls of the universe,” Arachne simplified. “If there’s a way to remove the stolen souls from Adriana without destroying Adriana’s soul, she can do it.” Arachne grinned at Thor. “Have a little faith in your niece,” she said. “I do.”

“So,” said Peter, who’d been listening, “you got turned into a mermaid?”

“Yeah, and like, you see these wings? Not for water, and while the armor changed with me—it was awesome Papa; I was a pink mermaid—the wings didn’t and it’s a good thing I’m stronger than the average person because it was not easy swimming with these waterlogged feathers.”

“That reminds me, Niece,” said Thor, “what disaster befell your armor?”

“Oh, I got hit with an inter-dimensional god’s lightning,” said Arachne. “But, they were nice enough to give me a shirt.”

“Yes,” said Peter as he eyed the text on said shirt. “I hope it doesn’t give Tony ideas.”

Thor nodded. “If you like,” he offered, “I will take you Swartelfheim and see if they can fix your armor.”

Arachne looked down at what was left of her armor. It was pretty good armor. Not only had it grown with her, it had changed when she’d been changed. The only thing it hadn’t been up to was that lightning that got thrown at her.

Then again, the dwarf that made it was also the same dwarf that had decided not to tell her that wearing the wings would fuse them to her body, making them impossible to remove. Much as Arachne loved her wings and the ability to fly, she also loved the ability to take off the leotard and wear normal clothing.

“Do you think they’ll try to make it better?” she asked him.

Thor laughed. “They’re dwarfs. They always try to make things better. It’s in their nature.”

Arachne smiled weakly. “It is, isn’t it?” she asked.

No matter what, she was glad to be back home. Finally.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Month of Drabbles Day 10: Diplomacy (Super Danganronpa 2)

Summary: Sonia Nevermind has always had a way with words. But how much use, really, does a diplomat have in a killing game?

Words: 2295

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, and suicide.

When Sonia Nevermind was five, she kept her twenty kidnappers entertained until she convinced them to send her back to Novoselic in a first-class jet clutching a suitcase of diamonds. When she was eight, she secured a trade deal between Novoselic and the United States which boosted Novoselic’s GDP by fifty percent within the first month. When she was eleven, she stopped a nuclear war with a tilt of her head and a few words from her lips. Her mother had asked her how she did it once. Sonia told her she said her “please’s” and “thank you’s.”

Sonia always found that she had a way with words. Of course, she had to if she wanted to be queen of Novoselic someday. Novoselic had the highest civilian to militia ratio of any country in the world, but its tiny size meant that a good leader must use words instead of brute force in foreign relations if she wanted her country to survive. Despite this, everyone was surprised when at age twelve; Princess Sonia Nevermind became the head of foreign relations in Novoselic.

There were people that called her the Ultimate Princess. Sonia thought that that would probably mean something a hundred years ago when there were more princesses in the world. It pained her to think that she only had this title from her birthright and not from any talent of her own.

When she was accepted into a school in Japan because of this birthright, she didn’t feel the excitement that she thought she should have. Here was another prestigious school that wanted Sonia Nevermind not for her skills but for her bloodline. It was richer and better staffed than any school in her entire kingdom, but she was about to reject the invitation when it hit her.

Here was the best school in the world. Everyone who graduated from it was set for life. Sonia would have been set for life anyway, but Hope’s Peak Academy might take what skills she had and amplify it by tenfold. She had to go to this school. After all, wasn’t it a queen’s duty to become the best person she could for the subjects of her kingdom? Sonia proudly entered herself into Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Princess.  If she was going to become a leader, she should try to grow fond of the position before the end of high school.

~

Except…in high school, Sonia didn’t get to lead. She led a group of girls onto the sandy beaches to enjoy themselves, but that was the end of it. When the black and white bear appeared and announced that she and her classmates will be killing each other, a Byakuya Togami immediately took charge. Sonia didn’t have to worry about protecting everyone anymore-someone else was doing that for her. This newfound freedom was almost euphoric.

And then Byakuya Togami was found lying face down under a table and covered in blood. Teruteru Hanamura was the killer. If Sonia had been aware of what Nagito Komaeda was planning, would she have been able to convince him to put his knife down? If Sonia had beaten Byakuya to taking charge, would she be the one lying face down on the wooden floor of the old hotel?

Sonia had disarmed bombs with her smile. She had stopped armies in their tracks with just a few words. She had saved millions of lives with a firm handshake and steady eye contact. So why, oh why, could she not save the lives of two classmates?

~

After Teruteru was dropped into that volcano, Sonia decided that letting someone else take charge was a luxury she did not have. If she simply took absolute power over her class, there’s bound to be opposition. That was not the way Sonia Nevermind did things. A good princess-a good diplomat-was to find the core problem and to solve it while the smile on her face never wavers.

The core problem with this class was that they didn’t trust each other. That was a given, seeing how they’ve only known each other for a few days and one of their classmates just killed another. This class needed to do more activities together.

Sonia organized a “girl’s only” party. She took a page out of Byakuya’s book. What better way to unite half the class than to have a party? It was going to be on a beach in the bright daylight, with no circuits to break and no floorboards to stab through. When Hajime Hinata and Kazuichi Soda decided to tag along too, Sonia didn’t mind. As long as Kazuichi didn’t try to hit on her, she was happy to have more of the class along. Some of the girls were missing, but the classmates who were her were happy. What’s the worst that could happen?

~

The worst that could happen was Kazuichi finding the dead body of Mahiru Koizumi lying in front of a door in the beach house. As Sonia stared at the blood-soaked corpse, she wondered if Mahiru would still be alive right now if she had been more insistent that she joined her party.

At the trial, Ibuki Mioda revealed that she was going to go with Mahiru had she not already agreed to come to the party. So Mahiru’s death was all Sonia’s fault, then. If she’d never arranged this beach party Ibuki would have been there to stop Peko Pekoyama from swinging that deadly baseball bat and none of this would have happened.

Peko claimed that she was Sparkling Justice, the serial killer that Sonia admired so. Something was wrong. Sonia tried to say something, but her classmates all talked over her. She felt a rush of anger. Why weren’t they listening to her? Wasn’t she their princess?

Peko Pekoyama had been lying about being her friend the whole time. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu had been lying about his history with Peko. Hiyoko Saionji lied about small things, but those small things had almost gotten Sonia’s entire class killed.

Sonia turned away as the straw robots on the screen plunged their swords deep into the body of Mahiru’s killer. She had seen through the lies of countless politicians and diplomats. Why couldn’t she see through the lies of her classmates?

~

Monokuma announced something he called the “despair disease.” Again, no one in the class was willing to lend their ear to what their princess had to say. Sonia decided then that if she was going to unite this class, she would have to start with individuals. And it seemed that most of the class was more than happy to be friends at Sonia’s request-except for one Hiyoko Saionji.

Hiyoko Saionji was a challenge, Sonia decided. The rest of her class had their differences, but they at least tried to get along, if only to survive. Hiyoko, on the other hand, had shut herself off from everyone. The only person exempt to her rotten attitude had her head split open with a metal bat.

Sonia wasn’t sure why she tried so hard to befriend this rude girl. Was it because she just enjoyed this challenge? Was it because she wanted everyone to get along that badly? Was it just out of pity for this girl who had lost the only person that cared about her on this island?

A day passed after Sonia told Hiyoko about that mirror in the studio. Ibuki hung from the ceiling. Hiyoko was strapped to a pillar. Once again, Sonia was responsible for the deaths of her friends. If only she had been kinder to Hiyoko. If only she’d volunteered to take care of her sick classmates with Mikan. If only she had done something.

~

Sonia gave up on being a good leader after Mikan left them. She would rather spend the night after the trial sitting on the beach, Gundham Tanaka at her side, chatting about hamsters or horror movies or demonic rituals. Gundham told her about the poison in his blood. Sonia smiled. Her blood was no good, either, not because of poison, but because of a family and responsibilities she was beginning to wish she never had.

If Kazuichi was glaring at her and Gundham angrily, then so be it. She was finished dancing around others with her words. Maybe if she was lucky, Kazuichi would realize that Sonia was no longer the perfect princess he thought she was.

~

Monokuma said that he was leaving Sonia and the others to starve to death in the Funhouse unless a dead body was found. Sonia decided then that she would accept her death with dignity.

Had it been a week and a half ago, Sonia would have taken her own life at the first opportunity in order to free her classmates from starvation. A princess should not simply sit and watch her people suffer, nor should a princess ever take an innocent life. Sacrificing herself for her subjects would have been a great honor for the Ultimate Princess.

But these were Sonia’s classmates; not her subjects. Sonia was not their princess. She had long since decided that her title of princess had no use on this island, but that didn’t mean she was allowed to panic and scream like a child. She found that she cared about her classmates, and so Sonia resolved to keep them calm in their final moments, so that they could slip out of the world of living not with a shout, but with a whisper.

~

Nekomaru Nidai’s metallic parts lay scattered on the floor. Hajime and Nagito present argument after argument of Gundham’s guilt. In the end, not even Sonia could prevent the truth.

Gundham told her to keep living, so she promised to do just that. As she ran into the execution grounds to scoop up the Four Dark Devas of Destruction, she realized something: if she had not helped convince everyone to ride that roller coaster that brought them to the Funhouse, none of this would have happened.

Sonia always found that she had a way with words, but now she realized that her way was simply making the poison that poured out of her mouth taste sweeter. How many people had she led to the deaths of already?

~

Nagito Komaeda was planning to blow up the entire island. Sonia searched for the bombs along with the others. She wanted to save her own life, but she also wanted to save the lives of her classmates. That feeling of responsibility towards these other Ultimates has not gone away. But this time, instead of protecting them as their princess, Sonia would be protecting them as their friend.

When she saw the streams of fireworks shoot into the sky in colorful bursts, Sonia thought her heart would stop with relief. Now that she was certain she wasn’t going to blow up in the next few hours, she went to study the weaponry on the fifth island. If any of that equipment worked, Sonia planned to use her expertise to fight her way out of Jabberwok Island. After nine deaths, she hardly had any patience left over for words-sweet or poisonous. A princess did not point weapons at the innocent, but Monokuma was not innocent.

A fire started in the warehouse, resulting in the discovery of Nagito’s mangled body. Sonia knew she should have been horrified. Maybe she was, but that feeling of guilt that lingered after every previous death no longer lingered here. All these horrible injuries on Nagito’s body could not have been caused by her. She was only responsible for finding the killer of this case and bringing them to justice.

~

She was responsible for suggesting that her friends throw the fire grenades that killed Nagito Komaeda. Why couldn’t they have just poured water? They were on an island, for goodness sakes! Because of Sonia’s carelessness-because of her sweet words-everyone on this island was about to die.

She told everyone to vote for her. She was the one that suggested the fire grenades. She might as well have been Nagito’s killer. She wasn’t sure if she was so willing to sacrifice herself out of love or responsibility but it didn’t really matter anymore.

Chiaki Nanami suggests that she may be the traitor that threw the poisoned fire grenade. No, Sonia decided. She didn’t care if Chiaki was lying or not. This was the final straw. She couldn’t let another classmate-another friend die from her mistakes.

Chiaki wasn’t the traitor, Sonia declared. Sonia didn’t care that pointing out that she knew about the fake bombs made her more suspicious. She was ready to die. Over the past few weeks Sonia’s words have caused so many deaths. Her lack of words has caused so many deaths as well. Maybe this time she could use her words properly like she used to and save just one more life.

Hajime refuted her every argument. Sonia wasn’t sure when tears started pouring down her face, but she didn’t attempt to wipe them away. If she were still in Novoselic, these tears would have tarnished her image. Now, she didn’t care.

Sonia stared at the screen in the trial room as it showed her images of Chiaki Nanami running desperately from her inevitable death. She was never going to be a princess again. She was never going to be a queen. She was just Sonia Nevermind, whose sweet and deadly words killed whether they were used or not.

~

Sonia always found that she had a way with words. With her charm and wit, she could almost control the world. She could save the lives of millions of strangers with her words, so why?

Why oh why, could she not save the lives of eleven innocent friends?

[alia-turin]

Since I finished Comrades I have been a bit disappointed of the lack of details regarding what is happening with pretty much everyone so I decided to provide myself (and you guys) with an explanation from the POV of an OC. It would be multichapter fic, and the whole point is to go through what is happening in Lestallum (beside hunts) how are the characters (Cor, Gladio, Ignis, Prompto etc.) dealing with Noct being gone. 

Title: Broken Bonds [Chapter I] Characters: OC, Libertus Ostium, Nyx Ulric (mentioned), Luche Lazarus (mentioned), Titus Drautos | Glauca (mentioned) Warning: SFW for work, next chapters might not be but there will be warning. Notes: Story starts just as Libertus meets the Avatar in Comrades. there are no major spoilers in this chapter as long as you know how the first 5 minutes of Comrades develop, you are spoiler safe. This chapter is A BIT too long, the rest would be most likely shorter.

Tagging: @birdsandivory   @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @jojopitcher @fromunseeliecourt (tagging you because you commented on my OC post few days ago, if you don’t want to te tagged please let me know) @xanxusthot @lazarustrashpit @littlestfangirl 

If anyone wants to be tagged (or untagged) in the future please let me know.

Ada found a small hut that seemed good enough for a shelter during the night. She was starving and had finished her last drop of water few hours ago. With any luck there would be someone in the hut or there might be supplies. Even a rotten vegetable seemed like a feast at that point.

The door was unlocked which was good news, she wasn’t sure if breaking the door was within her physical abilities at the moment. The hut was empty and looted. The furniture was broken or stolen, there was broken glass from what she assumed were cupboards and pieces of torn clothing. She started systematically going around the place looking for food or water but she had no luck. Shelter was the only things he could get from that place and it was still better than nothing.

She gathered few of the clothes and put them in one of the corners. That was going to serve as her bed for tonight. She sat on top of the pile, her back facing the corner, her eyes having view to every possible entrance of the place. Next to her foot there was a small wooden stick, and Ada reached for it. With some imagination it looked like a candle. She held it in her fingers and lit the stick with magic.

“Happy birthday to me.” She whispered sadly.  

Years ago, when she still lived in Galahd with her family she had them and her friends to celebrate. Then they were forced to move out since the Empire was treating them worse and worse with every passing year. Still even as e refugee she had her family and then when she joined the Kingsglaive, there was that. But now her family and the Glaive were gone, and she was homeless and alone.

She sank into dark sleep, having the same nightmares she has been having since Insomnia fell. She was alone running out of the city, bleeding heavily and her head hurting as if someone put a nail in it. Then she dreamt of her argument with Luche. They argued until he lost his temper and slammed her hard against the wall. At that point she realized arguing is not how thing would go down. They fought and he won, leaving her almost dead. In the months that followed she still couldn’t decide what hurt more, the wounds or the fact she was betrayed and helpless. The wounds have healed since then, but she was still having nightmares and flashbacks.

Ada woke up from the sound of demons roaring outside.

“Everybody I know is either death or a traitor.”

It has been one year since all that happened and her mind was still not free of the guilt. She spent the rest of the night staring in the darkness unable to calm her mind.

 Morning came and it was time for her to move on. If she didn’t find water today she was going die very soon.

The darkness had not left completely. It has been months since she had seen fully lit day. Right now, the sky looked mostly like a sunset and she knew it will continue looking like that for the rest of the day. Ada looked around for some familial landmarks. She had lost her map and her phone was broken so navigation was difficult especially when there was no sun. She decided on a direction but before she could make even a step further something roared from behind her. She didn’t need to wonder what that might be, it was vary recognizable sound. She pulled a knife in one hand and prepared a fire spell in the other.

In front of her was standing a giant flan. Ada took a deep breath realizing she had the strength to fight for no more than five minutes.

 Pain was the first thing that came to her mind as she slowly regained consciousness. It wasn’t pain at particular location, it was all over the body, every muscle, every joint every bone hurt. Distantly, somewhere far away somebody was talking to her. She couldn’t hear actual words but there was a voice and if there was a voice there had to be someone speaking.

“Ada!”

Yes, that was her name…who was calling her? She knew she had to open her eyes, but that seemed too difficult right now.

“Ada!”

She slowly opened her eyes. First everything was blurry, ten there was almost no light. For a second she thought something was wrong with her sight, the light was really weird, but as soon as the person in front of her came to focus she realized it wasn’t her sight it was the sky that was wrong. That was right, the sky has been like that for some time now. Her brain slowly started switching into gear.  

“Libertus…” she mumbled recognizing the man kneeling in front of her. That had to be some sort of a dream or probably she hit her head very bad.

“There you go, few more minutes and I was going to slap you.” He helped her up and passed her a bottle of water. “You seem like you need that.”

She took the water looking at him with suspicion. From all the places in the world to meet another Glaive it happened now. It felt strange. The last Glaive she talked to almost killed her.

‘I was too weak to stop him’ the invited thought just appeared in her mind.

“Thanks, Libertus. You are sight for sore eyes.” She decided to act normal, but at the back of her head she couldn’t stop her defense mechanisms kicking. What if he was after her? What if he had betrayed the King as well?

“I don’t hear that very often.” He passed her two knives. Does where her knives, maybe she lost them during the fight? If he was passing her the knives, maybe he wasn’t after her head. “Hey, we are trying to restore Lestallum and to be honest we desperately need help. Do you think you want to join us?”

Ada bit the inside of her cheek. She has been on her own for almost one year and it was difficult, recently it became even more difficult, but…could she trust Libertus? The Glaives did betray the king and she has not heard from any of them for a year. Not that she ever looked to hear from any of them but there was a reason for it. Luche was one of her best friends since her first day with the Glaives and her head hurt for a month after the encounter with him. Ada wondered if she could take Libertus and the answer was no. Few months ago, probably,  but now she was starving and weak.

“Come on. We have roof over our heads and we don’t get attacked by demons all the time.” Libertus offered her an encouraging smile, but it was the roof over her head that won her over.

She nodded and so she found herself in a truck with Libertus and bunch of meteor shards.

“What are these for?” Ada asked pointing to the meteors. They were strangely pretty even if they were just piled in an old crate.

“Lestallum power station. It’s the only way we can keep the city up and running and of course avoid demons.” Libertus explained, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was somewhere behind probably looking if demons would follow them.

“What did you do after Insomnia?” she decided to address the elephant in the room eventually. After all, once they reached Lestallum she might end up dead.

“Went back to Galahd. I was hoping Nyx would join me but…he never came.” It was strange selection of words. She knew the two of them were close, even if Ada was coming from Galahd as well she never was part of their gang. Compared to them she was relatively new in the Kingsglaive and so she had to find her own crowd. “Eventually decided there were more important things than just sit and wait and heard that the Marshal is trying to bring some civilization to the world.”

“What…happened? In Insomnia.” She slowly moved her hand towards her knife and started preparing a spell. If she didn’t like the answer, she wasn’t going to continue on that journey.

“You don’t remember?” He sounded surprised.

“I wasn’t conscious. Luche left me for death after I refused to participate in his plot. I know the Glaive helped the Niffs, but…when I woke up it was already night and Insomnia was gone.” Her chest was hurting just to talk about that. It has been almost a year and she was still not over it. She was helpless and useless to do the one thing she was supposed to do – defend the king and the people. She had ended up beaten and dying and the best she could do was to run. Maybe she should have died. Maybe Luche leaving her alive was bigger punishment than killing her.

“Whoa!” he almost shouted, staring at her as if she was suddenly growing a second head. “There is a lot you have missed. Well to bring you up to speed, some of the Glaives did betray the king. Luche included. The king was killed by General Glauca, I helped the Oracle escape Insomnia….” He suddenly felt silent.

“What happened with the Captain?” All these months she had blamed herself for not going to him to tell him about Luche, instead she thought she can convince Luche to stop or to stop him whichever worked. Stupid naïve girl….

“Luche really knocked you out very hard if you have missed that as well.” Libertus seemed even more surprised now at her ignorance. “The Captain was in fact General Glauca. Or General Glauca was the Captain, I’m not really sure who came first. The Captain killed the King and he tried to kill the Oracle. Nyx stopped him or I assume he did since nobody has heard from Glauca ever since and somebody else was made a leader of the Niff armies.”

Ada’s head was spinning. Titus Drautos…Glauca? How did that happen? The man was leading the Glaive, the man was fighting with them against the Imperials. He was next to them, he was supporting them, training them, teaching them. So, it wasn’t Luche that was behind the betrayal, something she thought all along. It was way deeper and Luche was just following orders. She wondered what would have happened if Drautos had come to her. If he had told her they were about to kill the king. Would she have said yes as well? She had the utmost admiration for the man, she respected him and now even that was gone.

‘My home is gone; my friends are gone and my teacher is gone.’ The words alone and loneliness suddenly reached whole new scale.

“How about Nyx? You said he never came to Galahd?”

Libertus just shook his head and Ada nodded. What she saw in the eyes of her fellow Glaive was very familiar denial. Same denial she saw in her own eyes every time she looked at her reflection. Nyx Ulric was dead, but Libertus had yet to admit it to himself. The exact same way she had to admit to herself her own failure and weakness.

“Luche was killed as well.” Libertus finally said. “He deserved what he got. Burned to death that idiot.” There was a faint smile on his lips. It wasn’t mockery, but more like relief that an enemy has fallen. Ada couldn’t sympathize with that. Not now at least. “I’m sorry, I know you two were close.” Libertus added quickly.

Ada just shook her head. Luche’s death was his own doing. They were friends, he was the first one to greet her in the Glaive and they happened to come from the same island of Galahd which made it easier to bond. Yet, despite everything he did, she missed him even if she hated him. Sometimes at night she wondered if she was stupid or masochistic.

“Here it is!” Libertus got up and pointed ahead of them.

Lestallum was…beautiful despite the ugly fences and barricades. Best of all there was light. Artificial light, but it was the brightest thing she had seen in months.

“Come on, we need to drop that” he pointed to the meteor shards. “And I need to introduce you to the Marshal.”