#Ash and Iris will never grow out of dressing up

[moonxpalace]

October = Halloween every day 🎃⭐🪄🎃

[realm-sweet-realm]

The Infiltrator, chapter 8: Ghetsis

N returned to the Team Rainbow Rocket hideout early that evening and met up with Iris. Once he taught his leafeon and ninjask sleep powder, it was time to descend into Ghetsis’ basement wing. N’s ninjask made quick and quiet work of the padlock with its claws, and the darkness of the basement reminded N of the dungeon in which his own Ghetsis resided.

A door creaked opened as N descended the stairs and Ghetsis emerged from it. His face momentarily contorted in shock before N’s leafeon bounded in and released its sleep powder. Ghetsis’ eyes rolled back and he fell backwards, sound asleep.

N took out the espeon and knelt beside Ghetsis. This version of him looked a decade older than his own, his hair as gray as it was green. The espeon hopped into N’s lap and touched Ghetsis with its paw.

“Father… I’m going to find good in you. I will.”

With that, N touched Ghetsis’ forehead and woke up in the orb pool.

“Show me why he joined Team Rainbow Rocket,” N said. It’s what would help him to convince the other four villains, so it seemed like a good place to start.

An orb rose and touched N’s forehead.

---

Ghetsis lay in the warm, lavender-scented bath in his palace, eyes closed. To distract himself from the pain in his right side, he imagined battles of old. Rides into the territory of foreign armies atop white Kyurem as it reduced the bodies of his enemies to ash. Tactical retreats into caves from which he could threaten to freeze nations. The respect and adoration of his men not just as a king, but as a warlord. With his injuries, he would never be renowned for his strength in battle, but he’d been known as a fearless leader and great strategist, and every one of his enemies feared his cruelty and ruthlessness.

If only he hadn’t had to grow old in a body with so many scars. At only fifty-eight years old, his weakened right side had become almost fully useless. He needed daily painkillers and hot baths just to function and a wheelchair for trips longer than a hundred yards. Needless to say, his days of mounting Kyurem, let alone leaving the comfort of his palace for weeks on end for the battlefield, had long since passed.

With difficulty, Ghetsis heaved himself out of the bathwater with his left arm, dried off, dressed himself, and took on the arduous walk back to his room. Even with his cane, his right side felt like stiff, sore, uncooperative dead weight.

Ghetsis opened the door to his room to find Rocket Boss Giovanni of all people waiting for him. Ghetsis grit his teeth and pulled his hydreigon’s pokéball out of his robes, letting his cane hit the floor as he braced himself for a fight for his life. It took his mind a moment to register that while Giovanni was his enemy, he’d also been killed over half a decade ago.

“What is this?” Ghetsis growled. “Was it your decoy we killed?”

Giovanni put his hands up to show they were empty. “I’m not here to, um- whatever you think I’m going to do,” Giovanni promised. “I’m a version of Giovanni from another universe, and I’m here to offer you something. That’s it, that’s all.”

“Oh? Well, what is it?”

“I’ve seen many iterations of you, Ghetsis. Iterations of you without your injuries that struck fear into enemy soldiers not just with your command and strategy but with a sword in hand. But none of them have made an empire last as long as you have. And since I’m planning to take over the world and then the multiverse, you’d be very useful to me as a military strategist. We’ll be taking control of the rulers of life, space, and time, so we could cure your injuries and make you immortal. So, how about it? Want to be young and strong forever and spend centuries commanding armies of legendary Pokémon? Want to be a God amongst men and strike fear into their hearts?”

Ghetsis smiled madly. “Why, yes. Yes, I would.”

Giovanni outstretched his hand, and Ghetsis shook it.

---

N woke up and immediately touched the espeon again, waking up in the orb pool. Ghetsis had joined Team Rainbow Rocket for selfish reasons, and not for reasons N could easily use to turn him away from it. But N wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.

“Show me what kind of leader he is,” N said, and an orb floated up and touched his forehead.

The memory took place in what appeared to be a throne room in a golden palace. Ghetsis, his right side feeling a good deal less stiff and painful than in the last memory, was chatting with Zinzolin.

“Hm, yes, let’s march on Galar a week from now. They’ll be a thorn in our side invading the nearby nations otherwise. But I suspect that once they see the power of the three dragons, they’ll surrender quickly. After all, freezing them over this time of year would mean massive crop failures, and with the embargo in the east, they can hardly afford that.”

Zinzolin seemed to agree with this, but before he could reply, two male Team Plasma grunts entered the throne room, dragging in a woman with tears streaming down her face.

“Well, well, well,” what do we have here?” Ghetsis asked.

“We caught her keeping a buneary in secret,” one of the grunts explained.

“It wasn’t mine, I-I swear it was just a pest that got in by mistake,” the woman stuttered, voice teary, “I have three kids, don’t do this!”

“She’s lying,” the grunt said. “It’s attached to an apricorn pokéball we found in her possession.”

Ghetsis leaned back in his throne. “Very well. You know the drill: to the dungeons with her, then a televised beheading first thing tomorrow morning with the standard speech about how ownership is abuse and anathema. We can’t be letting citizens think we’re getting soft, or they’ll start hoarding Pokémon for an insurrection.”

The woman sobbed. “I’ll let it go, please just let me live!” she begged.

“Will you be doing the execution yourself?” the grunt asked, ignoring her.

“Hmm… no. I woke up early to do executions this morning. I think I’ll sleep in tomorrow and leave this one to someone else. Perhaps we should start scheduling these a bit later so I can enjoy them while fully awake.”

---

N woke up and touched the espeon again. This time he wasn’t sure where to look for goodness in Ghetsis.

If not goodness, maybe I could find vulnerability? Some kind of soft spot that would help me to reason with him?

“Show me how he got his scars,” N requested.

An orb touched N’s forehead.

Ghetsis smiled as he looked upon his scarred hydreigon. Such a powerful and angry creature, and it was terrified of him. The brood of newly hatched deino at her feet huddled under her, whining as they sensed their mother’s anxiety. Ghetsis approached the mother and took out a dex to measure natures of each of the babies. It gave out a timid-sounding warning roar, which he ignored.

“Ah, useless, he’ll stay… useless… useful, but not as good as you… useless… ah.” Ghetsis took a squealing whelp by the scruff in his left hand. “A perfect nature. I’ll be taking this!”

The hydreigon roared in anger and terror, and Ghetsis grinned at her and raised the whip he held in his right hand. She recoiled in fear.

And then she used hyper beam, knocking Ghetsis unconscious.

When he woke up, it was to a doctor telling him that his right side had been burned critically. While he’d regain some function in his right side once the initial injuries healed, he would then lose its functioning gradually over the years, and he’d lost his right eye for good.

---

N woke up and touched the espeon again.

“Maybe his vulnerability is that he cares for me more than he lets on. Show me how he felt about me.”

Three orbs lifted, and suddenly N felt reluctant to see what was in them.

“If… any of those memories are especially hard, could you give me a break before you show me?” N asked.

The pool didn’t speak. The first two orbs made their path to N’s forehead.

Ghetsis lay on his stomach in the bushes, the rifle in his hand aimed for the pile of sitrus berries he’d left out. A zoroark loped in, a row of zorua puppies following, and the family started eating. Ghetsis’ heart pounded. This would be the rarest Pokémon he’d ever hunted. But as Ghetsis adjusted his aim, he noticed something- a tiny human hand clinging to the zoroark’s chest fluff. The zoroark picked up a sitrus berry, and, as it turned, revealed the small child it was handing it to.

Ghetsis was stunned. The child- a dirty wretch with green hair and touquoise eyes, made eye contact with him. The boy barked- barked like a zoroark- and the Pokémon scattered.

So he’d lived. The boy Ghetsis had abandoned was surviving amongst Pokémon. They were his family. He could communicate with them. He had no knowledge of human civilization. Ghetsis needed a hero to harness Reshiram’s power, so why not someone he could mold from nothing? Who already had every reason to care for Pokémon? Who he could treat however he wanted because he had no sense of what normal was?

Ghetsis followed the tracks until he came upon a small cave. Within it was the zoroark, watching her pups as they ran about with the boy, but also a woobat and a darmanitan- species not normally seen together. This was better than he thought. His mere presence brought Pokémon together.

Ghetsis tossed a pokéball, and his cofagrigus popped out, getting the attention of the three adult pokemon as they turned to him, ready to protect their young.

“I want the boy,” Ghetsis said. “I want to give him a good life. A human life.” Ghetsis spread his arms out to appear friendly.

The zoroark nodded to its makeshift pack, and the Pokémon piled out of the cave along with the boy and began following him home. The boy looked up at Ghetsis, confused. Had he even seen a human before?  Ghetsis offered him his hand, and, while he turned to the zoroark instead, the zoroark nudged him to take it.

The scene changed. Ghetsis was sitting in N’s room, watching as N, looking to be roughly fourteen years old and wearing white robes, prepared for his crowning ceremony.

He’s perfect. More perfect than I ever could have imagined. Kind like his mother, and eloquent like me. And beautiful, and graceful. And smart, and honourable. He knows everything he needs to and nothing else. In my attempt to keep my relations with his mother secret, I inadvertently created the right conditions for a perfect hero and figurehead to be made. And that such a creature could come from my blood and my training... he is perhaps my greatest creation.

Ghetsis approached N as he brushed his hair in front of the mirror. “You’re ready. Let’s go. It wouldn’t be very becoming to be late to your crowing ceremony.”

N pulled at his hair nervously. “Dad, I’m scared. What if I’m not a good king?”

“That’s what I’m here for, boy. To advise you.”

“You’re right. Will I be allowed to see the world soon?”

“Soon. When you’re eighteen. I’ve spent the last ten years building you into a perfect person, N. I don’t want the world to spoil that before your foundations are firm. It takes both purity and knowledge to rule. That is why we need each other.”

N looked up at Ghetsis with loving eyes. “Okay. Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course. Now, stop playing with your hair. We don’t want it to get all messed up, do we?”

N nodded, and the two went their separate ways to play their part in the ceremony.

---

N woke up in the orb pool, an orb inches from his forehead.

“So… the next one’s going to be tough, huh?”

The orb reflected an image of the giant chasm, and Kyurem.

“That was the day he almost killed me.”

According to Cyrus, Ghetsis had killed the N of his universe and enjoyed it. But… maybe Ghetsis was just saying that to cope with the guilt. He seemed to have a lot of warm feelings towards N. Twisted, but warm.

N took a deep breath and pressed the orb to his forehead.

Ghetsis stood in giant chasm, Kyurem by his side. He was favouring his left side, but he was in no pain at all.

“Increase your power, Kyurem, and cover all of Unova in ice,” Ghetsis commanded.

Kyurem obeyed, sending out a torrent of icy wind.

It was blocked by a blast of fire so great that it could have only come from a legendary. A massive blur of majestic white flew in, and upon it was N. The mighty beast landed and N jumped from its back, facing Ghetsis like an adversary.

“So you came. The freak without a human heart, N.”

“Reshiram told me that Kyurem was suffering. I can’t allow selfish humans to make Pokémon suffer. And I like Unova. It’s the place that taught me to live as a human. And it’s the place where I noticed the harmony of people and Pokémon living together.”

Such beauty and bravery in this creature… it almost made Ghetsis proud. Would that he could have used him. But alas, he was nothing but a beast that bit the hand who fed him. “Excellent. That was a moving expression of your determination. So the education I gave you to make you king wasn’t a complete waste. But I still haven’t forgotten how you’ve interfered with my plan.” Ghetsis took an item from his pocket. “You need to be taught another lesson… with these DNA splicers!”

Ghetsis threw the arrowhead-shaped object towards Reshiram. Reshiram flew through the icy cave, weaving between rocky columns and taking sharp turns to avoid the object. But it was no use. The DNA splicer hit Reshiram. With a horrible cry, it was absorbed. The object returned to Kyurem, who seemed to absorb reshiram’s essence, gaining its white fur and stronger limbs.

N gasped. “I never would have believed that fusions between Pokémon were possible... that there’s some sort of formula...”

“Listen, N,” Ghetsis said, “If you’d just become king, Unova would have remained beautiful! Kyurem, freeze the freak solid!”

Kyurem prepared a fire-based attack, its tail glowing orange like an overheated motor and tendrils of fire lifting from its back. But N didn’t move. The freak was locking eyes with the Pokémon aiming to kill him!

“Reshiram... I know you’re still in there. Your voice...there’s still time for you to be separated.”

To Ghetsis’ horror, Kyurem writhed as though it was fighting itself, and its fire extinguished.

Ghetsis grit his teeth in frustration. “Ugh! You’re nothing more than a tool! People, pokemon, you, you’re all just tools for my domination!”

N’s solemn and serene eyes turned to Ghetsis. “As hard as it is for me to call you this... father... Pokemon and human beings together take each other to greater heights… They’re our partners.”

“Shut your mouth! Don’t talk like a person, you freak! No real person can talk to a Pokémon!”

Ghetsis gestured with his cane, and White Kyurem summoned a ball of red, hot energy and shot it towards N. It hit N and blew his body back easily a dozen feet before he fell limp to the ground. Skin charred and clothes burned, N made a shaky attempt to push himself up from the ground.

“Again!” Ghetsis shouted.

Another ball of energy hit N. This time, it left him motionless.

Sadistic joy rose in Ghetsis’ chest. He chuckled as he approached the body of the young creature. Not a human. Not a Pokémon, either. He was nothing and belonged nowhere, and yet he bit the only hand that would ever have been willing to feed him. This was a fate well-deserved.

N woke up in the orb pool, trembling as he tried to keep himself together. He should have known that was how Ghetsis felt about him.

“Is there anything you can show me that can help?” he asked the orb pool. “Help me to understand how I can make him join us, or to reason with the Ghetsis I have at home.”

N looked down at the memory orbs, waiting for a useful one to rise up. None did.

“I think I’m done here,” N said.

N woke up. He brushed tears from his eyes as he looked down at the unconscious body of his old caretaker, but more came. He couldn’t stop crying. The espeon cuddled into him, and his leafeon joined it in his arms, trying to comfort its trainer. N squeezed the two creatures tight. Even his ninjask came in to hug him. After N had gathered himself, he turned to the three Pokémon.

“We can’t take him with us. He has no reason to want to leave or to want to listen to me. What should we do with him? Just leave him here?”

The three Pokémon nodded.

“Sounds good.”

With that, N returned the three Pokémon and left. He had a villainous scheme to diffuse.

[worksinprogress1]

N returned to the Team Rainbow Rocket hideout early that evening and met up with Iris. Once he taught his leafeon and ninjask sleep powder, it was time to descend into Ghetsis’ basement wing. N’s ninjask made quick and quiet work of the padlock with its claws, and the darkness of the basement reminded N of the dungeon in which his own Ghetsis resided.

A door creaked opened as N descended the stairs and Ghetsis emerged from it. His face momentarily contorted in shock before N’s leafeon bounded in and released its sleep powder. Ghetsis’ eyes rolled back and he fell backwards, sound asleep.

N took out the espeon and knelt beside Ghetsis. This version of him looked a decade older than his own, his hair as gray as it was green. The espeon hopped into N’s lap and touched Ghetsis with its paw.

“Father… I’m going to find good in you. I will.”

With that, N touched Ghetsis’ forehead and woke up in the orb pool.

“Show me why he joined Team Rainbow Rocket,” N said. It’s what would help him to convince the other four villains, so it seemed like a good place to start.

An orb rose and touched N’s forehead.

---

Ghetsis lay in the warm, lavender-scented bath in his palace, eyes closed. To distract himself from the pain in his right side, he imagined battles of old. Rides into the territory of foreign armies atop white Kyurem as it reduced the bodies of his enemies to ash. Tactical retreats into caves from which he could threaten to freeze nations. The respect and adoration of his men not just as a king, but as a warlord. With his injuries, he would never be renowned for his strength in battle, but he’d been known as a fearless soldier and great strategist, and every one of his enemies feared his cruelty and ruthlessness.

If only he hadn’t had to grow old in a body with so many scars. At only fifty-eight years old, his weakened right side had become fully useless. He needed daily painkillers and hot baths just to function and a wheelchair for trips longer than a hundred yards. Needless to say, his days of mounting Kyurem, let alone leaving the comfort of his palace for weeks on end for the battlefield, had long since passed.

With difficulty, Ghetsis heaved himself out of the bathwater with his left arm, dried off, dressed himself, and took on the arduous walk back to his room. Even with his cane, his right side felt like stiff, sore, uncooperative dead weight.

Ghetsis opened the door to his room to find Rocket Boss Giovanni of all people waiting for him. Ghetsis grit his teeth and pulled out his hydreigon’s pokéball out of his robes, letting his cane hit the floor as he braced himself for a fight for his life. It took his mind a moment to register that while Giovanni was his enemy, he’d also been killed over half a decade ago.

“What is this?” Ghetsis growled. “Was it your decoy we killed?”

Giovanni put his hands up to show they were empty. “I’m not here to, um- whatever you think I’m going to do,” Giovanni promised. “I’m a version of Giovanni from another universe, and I’m here to offer you something. That’s it, that’s all.”

“Oh? Well, what is it?”

“I’ve seen many iterations of you, Ghetsis. Iterations of you without your injuries that struck fear into enemy soldiers not just with your command but and strategy but with a sword in hand. But none of them have made an empire last as long as you have. And since I’m planning to take over the world and then the multiverse, you’d be very useful to me as a military strategist. We’ll be taking control of the rulers of life, space, and time, so we could cure your injuries and make you immortal. So, how about it? Want to be young and spry forever and spend centuries commanding armies of legendary Pokémon? Want to be a God amongst men and strike fear into their hearts?”

Ghetsis smiled madly. “Why, yes. Yes, I would.”

Giovanni outstretched his hand, and Ghetsis shook it.

N woke up and immediately touched the espeon again, waking up in the orb pool. Ghetsis had joined Team Rainbow Rocket for selfish reasons, and not for reasons N could easily use to turn him away from it. But N wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.

“Show me what kind of leader he is,” N said, and an orb floated up and touched his forehead.

The memory took place in what appeared to be overlooking a throne room in a golden palace. Ghetsis, his right side feeling a good deal less stiff and painful than in the last memory, was chatting with Zinzolin.

“Hm, yes, let’s march on Galar a week from now. They’ll be a thorn in our side invading the nearby nations otherwise. But I suspect that once they see the power of the three dragons, they’ll surrender quickly. After all, freezing them over this time of year would mean massive crop failures, and with the embargo in the East, they can hardly afford that.”

Zinzolin seemed to agree with this, but before he could reply, two male Team Plasma grunts entered the throne room, dragging in a woman with tears streaming down her face.

“Well, well, well,” what do we have here?” Ghetsis asked.

“We caught her keeping a buneary in secret,” one of the grunts explained.

“It wasn’t mine, I-I swear it was just a pest that got in by mistake,” the woman stuttered, voice teary, “I have three kids, don’t do this!”

“She’s lying,” the grunt said. “It’s attached to an apricorn pokéball we found in her possession.”

Ghetsis leaned back in his throne. “Very well. You know the drill: to the dungeons with her, then a televised beheading first thing tomorrow morning with the standard speech about how ownership is abuse and anathema. We can’t be letting citizens think we’re getting soft, or they’ll start hoarding Pokémon for an insurrection.”

The woman sobbed. “I’ll let it go, please just let me live!” she begged.

“Will you be doing the execution yourself?” the grunt asked, ignoring her.

“Hmm… no. I woke up early to do executions this morning. I think I’ll sleep in tomorrow and leave this one to someone else. Perhaps we should start scheduling these a bit later so I can enjoy them while fully awake.”

---

N woke up and touched the espeon again. This time he wasn’t sure where to look for goodness in Ghetsis.

If not goodness, maybe I could find vulnerability? Some kind of soft spot that would help me to reason with him?

“Show me how he got his scars,” N requested.

An orb touched N’s forehead.

Ghetsis smiled as he looked upon his scarred hydreigon. Such a powerful and angry creature, and it was terrified of him. The brood of newly hatched deino at her feet huddled under her, whining as they sensed their mother’s anxiety. Ghetsis approached the mother and took out a dex to measure natures of each of the babies. It gave out a timid-sounding warning roar, which he ignored.

“Ah, useless, he’ll stay… useless… useful, but not as good as you… useless… ah.” Ghetsis took a squealing pup by the scruff in his left hand. “A perfect nature. I’ll be taking this!”

The hydreigon roared in anger and terror, and Ghetsis grinned at her and raised the whip he held in his right hand. She recoiled in fear.

And then she used hyper beam, knocking Ghetsis unconscious.

When he woke up, it was to a doctor telling him that his right side had been burned critically. While he’d regain some function in his right side once the initial injuries healed, he would then lose its functioning gradually over the years, and he’d lost his right eye for good.

---

N woke up and touched the espeon again.

“Maybe his vulnerability is that he cares for me more than he lets on. Show me how he felt about me.”

Three orbs lifted, and suddenly N felt reluctant to see what was in them.

“If… any of those memories are especially hard, could you give me a break before you show me?” N asked.

The pool didn’t speak. The first two orbs made their path to N’s forehead.

Ghetsis lay on his stomach in the bushes, the rifle in his hand aimed for the pile of sitrus berries he’d left out. A zoroark loped in, a row of zorua puppies following, and the family started eating. Ghetsis’ heart pounded. This would be the rarest Pokémon he’d ever hunted. But as Ghetsis perfected his aim, he noticed something- a tiny human hand clinging to the zoroark’s chest fluff. The zoroark picked up a sitrus berry, and, as it turned, revealed the small child it was handing it to.

Ghetsis was stunned. The child- a dirty wretch with green hair and touquoise eyes, made eye contact with him. The boy barked- barked like a zoroark- and the Pokémon scattered.

So he’d lived. The boy Ghetsis had abandoned was surviving amongst Pokémon. They were his family. He could communicate with them. He had no knowledge of human civilization. Ghetsis needed a hero to harness Reshiram’s power. Why not someone he could mould from nothing? Who already had every reason to care for Pokémon? Who he could treat however he wanted because he had no sense of what normal was?

Ghetsis followed the tracks until he came upon a small cave. Within it was the zoroark, watching her pups as they ran about with the boy, but also a woobat and a darmanitan- species not normally seen together. This was better than he thought. His mere presence could bring pokemon together.

Ghetsis tossed a pokéball, and his cofagrigus popped out, getting the attention of the three adult pokemon as they turned to him to protect their young.

“I want the boy,” Ghetsis said. “I want to give him a good life. A human life.” Ghetsis spread his arms out to appear friendly.

The zoroark nodded to its makeshift pack, and the Pokémon piled out of the cave along with the boy and began following him home. The boy looked up at Ghetsis, confused. Had he even seen a human before?  Ghetsis offered him his hand, and, while he turned to the zoroark instead, the zoroark nudged him to take it.

The scene changed. Ghetsis was sitting in N’s room, watching as N, looking to be roughly fourteen years old and wearing white robes, prepared for his crowning ceremony.

He’s perfect. More perfect than I ever could have imagined. Kind like his mother, and eloquent like me. And beautiful, and graceful. And smart, and honourable. He knows everything he needs to and nothing else. In my attempt to keep my relations with his mother secret, I inadvertently created the perfect conditions for a perfect hero and figurehead to be made. And that such a creature could come from my blood and my training... he is perhaps my greatest creation.

Ghetsis approached N as he brushed his hair in the mirror. “You’re ready. Let’s go. It wouldn’t be very becoming to be late to your crowing ceremony.”

N pulled at his hair nervously. “Dad, I’m scared. What if I’m not a good king?”

“That’s what I’m here for, boy. To advise you.”

“You’re right. Will I be allowed to see the world soon?”

“Soon. When you’re eighteen. I’ve spent the last ten years building you into a perfect person, N. I don’t want the world to spoil that before your foundations are firm. It takes both purity and knowledge to rule. That is why we need each other.”

N looked up at Ghetsis with loving eyes. “Okay. Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course. Now, stop playing with your hair. We don’t want it to get all messed up, do we?”

N nodded, and the two went their separate ways to play their part in the ceremony.

---

N woke up in the orb pool, an orb inches from his forehead.

“So… the next one’s going to be tough, huh?”

The orb reflected an image of the giant chasm, and Kyurem.

“That was the day he almost killed me.”

According to Cyrus, Ghetsis had killed the N of his universe and enjoyed it. But… maybe Ghetsis was just saying that to cope with the guilt. He seemed to have a lot of warm feelings towards N. Twisted, but warm.

N took a deep breath and pressed the orb to his forehead.

Ghetsis stood in giant chasm, Kyurem by his side. He was favouring his left side, but he was in no pain at all.

“Increase your power, Kyurem, and cover all of Unova in ice,” Ghetsis commanded.

Kyurem obeyed, sending out a torrent of icy wind.

It was blocked by a blast of fire so great that it could have only come from a legendary. A massive blur of majestic white flew in, and upon it was N. The mighty beast landed and N jumped from its back, facing Ghetsis like an adversary.

“So you came. The freak without a human heart, N.”

“Reshiram told me that Kyurem was suffering. I can’t allow selfish humans to make Pokémon suffer. And I like Unova. It’s the place that taught me to live as a human. And it’s the place where I noticed the harmony of people and Pokémon living together.”

Such beauty and bravery in this creature… it almost made Ghetsis proud. Would that he could have used him. But alas, he was nothing but a beast that bit the hand who fed him. “Excellent. That was a moving expression of your determination. So the education I gave you to make you king wasn’t a complete waste. But I still haven’t forgotten how you’ve interfered with my plan.” Ghetsis took an item from his pocket. “You need to be taught another lesson… with these DNA splicers!”

Ghetsis threw the arrowhead-shaped object towards Reshiram. Reshiram flew through the icy cave, weaving between rocky columns and taking sharp turns to avoid the object. But it was no use. The DNA splicer hit Reshiram. With a horrible cry, it was absorbed. The object returned to Kyurem, who seemed to absorb reshiram’s essence, gaining its white fur and stronger limbs.

N gasped. “I never would have believed that fusions between Pokémon were possible... that there’s some sort of formula...”

“Listen, N,” Ghetsis said, “If you’d just become king, Unova would have remained beautiful! Kyurem, freeze the freak solid!”

Kyurem prepared a fire-based attack, its tail glowing orange like an overheated motor and tendrils of fire lifting from its back. But N didn’t move. The freak was locking eyes with the Pokémon aiming to kill him!

“Reshiram... I know you’re still in there. Your voice...there’s still time for you to be separated.”

To Ghetsis’ horror, Kyurem writhed as though it was fighting itself, and its fire extinguished.

Ghetsis grit his teeth in frustration. “Ugh! You’re nothing more than a tool! People, pokemon, you, you’re all just tools for my domination!”

N’s solemn and serene eyes turned to Ghetsis. “As hard as it is for me to call you this... father... Pokemon and human beings together take each other to greater heights… They’re our partners.”

“Shut your mouth! Don’t talk like a person, you freak! No real person can talk to a Pokémon!”

Ghetsis gestured with his cane, and White Kyurem summoned a ball of red, hot energy and shot it towards N. It hit N and blew his body back easily a dozen feet before he fell limp to the ground. Skin charred and clothes burned, N made a shaky attempt to push himself up from the ground.

“Again!” Ghetsis shouted.

Another ball of energy hit N. This time, it left him motionless.

Sadistic joy rose in Ghetsis’ chest. He chuckled as he approached the body of the young creature. Not a human. Not a Pokémon, either. He was nothing and belonged nowhere, and yet he bit the only hand that would ever have been willing to feed him. This was a fate well-deserved.

N woke up in the orb pool, trembling as he tried to keep himself together. He should have known that was how Ghetsis felt about him.

“Is there anything you can show me that can help?” he asked the orb pool. “Help me to understand how I can make him join us, or to reason with the Ghetsis I have at home.”

N looked down at the memory orbs, waiting for a useful one to rise up. None did.

“I think I’m done here,” N said.

N woke up. He brushed tears from his eyes as he looked down at the unconscious body of his old caretaker, but more came. He couldn’t stop crying. The espeon cuddled into him, and his leafeon joined it in his arms, trying to comfort its trainer. N squeezed the two creatures tight. Even his ninjask came in to hug him. After N had gathered himself, he turned to the three Pokémon.

“We can’t take him with us. He has no reason to want to go or to want to listen to me. What should we do with him? Just leave him here?”

The three Pokémon nodded.

“Sounds good.”

With that, N returned the three Pokémon and left. He had villains to team up with.

[derangedrhythms]

Sun compilation for @themoonandthewanderer

"The sun hardly touches me. / Sometimes I see it in early spring, rising very far away. / Then leaves grow over it, completely hiding it. I feel it / glinting through the leaves, erratic, / like someone hitting the side of a glass with a metal spoon. / Living things don’t all require / light in the same degree. Some of us / make our own light: a silver leaf / like a path no one can use, a shallow / lake of silver in the darkness under the great maples."

— Louise Glück, The Wild Iris; ‘Lamium’

"But this night of mine can’t be killed by any sun."

— Alejandra Pizarnik, The Shadow Texts; from ‘The Green Table’, tr: Yvette Siegert

"…threaten the Sun, in the Moon’s name, with being engulfed by perpetual night."

— Robert Graves, The Greek Myths: The Complete and Definitive Edition

"We'll celebrate the dead sun's dying light."

— Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems; 'Spleen et Idéal' from 'Black Bile (Millenium of memories...)', tr. Walter Martin

"Then the sun again / Waking like a torn-out eye."

— Ted Hughes, Moortown Diary; from 'Coming down through Somerset'

"…that old villain the Sun"

— Aristophanes, quoted by Robert Graves in 'The Greek Myths: The Complete and Definitive Edition'

"Close out the sun, for I would have it dark / That I may feel how black the grave will be."

— Sara Teasdale, Helen of Troy and Other Poems; from ‘Beatrice’

"furious anger in spring sunshine,"

— Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems II: Poems Selected & New: 1976-1986; from ‘Not the Moon’

"Black, but still a sun, / Like the Sun's negative."

— Ted Hughes, Collected Poems: Uncollected (1983-86); from 'Sacrificed Head'

"...the sky where the sun was already rising like a hot white bitch."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Sula'

"The sun is dressed in black."

— Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems; 'Spleen et Idéal' from 'Possessed', tr. Walter Martin

"The sun doesn't forgive, / it looks and keeps going."

— Margaret Atwood, from ‘Power Politics’

"Who would not blot out the sun sometimes?"

— Susanna Clarke, from 'Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell'

"And so for days Magdalena obsessively barricaded the windows of her room against the gusty sunshine and tumult of spring."

— Joyce Carol Oates, Dreams from the Witch House: Female Voices of Lovecraftian Horror; from ‘Shadows of the Evening’

"I'm reminded of the sun of my childhood. Infused with death,"

— Alejandra Pizarnik, The Shadow Texts; from ‘The Green Table’, tr: Yvette Siegert

"I feel more vulnerable in the spring than in the fall. That’s why I’m so damp. This isn’t sweat. It’s something the sun has wrung from my heart."

— Izumi Kyoka, Japanese Gothic Tales; ‘One Day in Spring’, tr. Charles Shiro Inouye

"Drowned in a pool of blood the sun lies slain."

— Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems; 'Spleen et Idéal' from 'Evening Harmony', tr. Walter Martin

"Outside the sun shines. / I dress up in ashes."

— Alejandra Pizarnik, from ‘The Lost Adventures’; untitled, tr: Cecilia Rossi

"If I were God, I'd call on the angels one night / to release the round sun into the darkness's furnace,"

— Forugh Farrokhzad, Osyan (Rebellion); from ‘Rebellious God’, tr. Sholeh Wolpé

"I hope for no good of this letter because today the sun opposes a conjunction of Saturn and the moon, and Mars opposes Jupiter which is back on my sun. Defy these stars."

— Ted Hughes, Letters of Ted Hughes; from a letter to Olwyn Hughes, 22nd May 1956

"Don’t speak to me of the sun or I’ll die."

— Alejandra Pizarnik, from ‘Extracting the Stone of Madness’, tr. Yvette Siegert

"She hated the sun too because it was treacherous."

— Sylvia Plath, Johnny Panic and The Bible of Dreams; from ‘Tongues of Stone’

"Doom on the sun!"

— Dylan Thomas, The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas: The New Centenary Edition; from ‘Find meat on bones’

"What’s deadlier than the sun?"

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from 'The Flies', tr. Stuart Gilbert

"The sun will never rise again on anyone. / Never. Never more. At last."

— Marguerite Duras, from 'Hiroshima Mon Amour', tr. Richard Seaver

"…the dark glasses interfere with my ability to recognize obstacles. I can’t take them off, the sunny weather ruins my mood, and they help mask all this sunniness. With them I can even pretend that the sky is overcast instead of bright blue, so I have been wearing them continuously for the last week, eager to deceive myself, and getting into accidents, but better a couple of accidents than the depression that will inevitably follow if I’m forced to live under the cloudless sky."

— Mariam Petrosyan, from 'The Gray House', tr. Yuri Machkasov

"Or the funeral of the sun;"

— Dylan Thomas, The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas: The New Centenary Edition; from ‘Here in this spring’

"My painful moon-eyes wait and brood / To view the sun's demise."

— Gertrud Kolmar, Dark Soliloquy: The Selected Poems of Gertrud Kolmar; from 'The Toad', tr. Henry A. Smith

"The sun was like a feverish eye."

— Sadeq Hedayat, The Blind Owl and Other Stories; from 'The Blind Owl', tr. D. P. Costello

"You might think a total solar eclipse would have no colour. The word “eclipse” comes from ancient Greek ekleipsis, “a forsaking, quitting, abandonment.” The sun quits us, we are forsaken by light. Yet people who experience total eclipse are moved to such strong descriptions of its vacancy and void that this itself begins to take on colour. What after all is a colour? Something not no colour. Can you make a double negative of light? Would that be like waking from a dream in the wrong direction and finding yourself on the back side of your own mind? There is a moment of reversal within totality."

— Anne Carson, Decreation: Poetry, Essays, Opera; from ‘Totality: The Colour of Eclipse’

[cosmiclatte28]

Heterochromia (Lucas x reader)

ONE SHOT ... SOULMATE AU! .. HETEROCHROMIA (different eye colors)

Warning : none (?) It's fluff and safe for everyone

Enjoy!!

Heterochromia- when one person owns two different colors of iris.

Having one purple eye and one green eye is nothing new to the society. Everyone is born with it. One of the color belongs to you, and the other color obviously belongs to your significant others aka your soulmate.

Science proof that when you meet your soulmate, your eye color will change. You will finally have a pair of your true color and vice versa. Truth be told, this is such a cool indicator and people are all loving this new mutation.

Waking up to coffee and toast is a good way to start your day. You toss your blanket aside and push yourself away, you’re in a good mood to start college today.

“Morning Hendery,” you greet your flat partner.

“Morning (y/n)~” his bed head greets you.

“coffee, bacon and eggs?” his questioning tone is enough to offer you breakfast.

“That’s so nice of you. Yes just one egg and bacon,” you say while grabbing your towel to use the bathroom first.

You return to the small dining room ten minutes later and your plate is ready on the table.

Hendery pours you a cup of black coffee with two spoons of sugar “black with two spoons of sugar.”

He pushes the cup to you as he finishes his own breakfast plate. “Thanks” you whisper

“Morning class?” you ask as you spoon yourself some eggs and bacons.

“Uh-hum, why would I get up this early if I do not have morning class.” Hendery scoffs

“You go take a shower, I’ll wash the dishes.” You initiatively take the responsibility since he had cooked you breakfast.

You met Hendery through a friend when you’re looking for a flat mate. You don’t have much rules to sharing the flat, your urgency made you sign the contract with Hendery, a sophomore in engineering while you're a junior in public health.

“Are you going to Jaehyun’s party tomorrow?” He asks after coming out of the toilet in a clean and tidy shirt. Jaehyun is a member of the same frats as Hendery and tomorrow is his birthday. You've met Jaehyun since middle school and the two of you are good friends! thus earning you an invitation to the ‘hottest man in the campus’ birthday party.

You rinse the last plate and dry your hands, “It’s a Friday night after all, I am going to come I guess.”

“Awesome! We can share a cab.” He flashes his big smile and the last thing you saw before parting ways was his half green half blue eyes. The two of us start our daily routines.

--

Preparing yourself for a party is always fun. You enjoy decorating your half blue half brown eyes with eye shadows and you love dressing up. Tonight's pick is a simple black dress with a pink choker and some wedged boots. February is still cold and you don't want to come home freezing!

You paint your lips on your favorite shade color and with one last perfume spray, you're finally ready to go.

“Hey, i'm ready.” You notify Hendery, who has been waiting for you since like thirty minutes ago…

He glances at you and stands up, “Great! The cab will be here in five minutes. You look stunning by the way. Aren't you feeling cold?” he wonders after seeing your attire.

“Nah, i'll use a coat relax. Shall we go down?” you grab your coat and then pockets your key.

“Sure, let's wait down stairs.” He offers you his hand since you'll need to go down two levels by stairs in a wedged boots. Although he knew you're so talented in wearing heels, he is a gentleman for always offering a hand.

“You know I won't fall just by wearing a 5 cm boots.” You giggle while descending the stairs.

Hendery smirks, “A thank you would be better. I’m raised to be a gentle man miss.”

“Right… gentleman.. arraseo mr blue-green" you tease him. Well the first time you saw his eyes, you lowkey envied him for having one green eye, while Hendery always love your brown eyes. Funny how we cannot switch eye colors! Or else you're going to pick purple and ash grey!

--

The party Jaehyun held was the biggest you've attended since coming to university life. He rented a whole party house complete with a swimming pool, pool, a dj, and of course free flows of drinks and foods. The room was so big and there's hundreds of people! You're sure he almost invited every one in campus. This is like a prom, but without the fancy dresses.

“Look, don't go home with any one! You're going back home with me. Okay? Contact me or just look for me.” Hendery said before you parted ways. Well, Hendery and you had only been sharing the flat for seven months, but that is enough to grow a strong sibling bond between you two. Hendery treats you like you're his little sister and you see him as your big brother.

“Right, make sure you're taking me home okay and not other girl.” You taunt and before Hendery could get you, you disappear into the crowd.

“Jaehyun! Happy birthday brother!”

Once you see the man with sweet dimple in denim, chilling with his frats, you hug him and congratulate him. Well, after all jaehyun and you are close friends and calling him brother is nothing.

Jaehyun smiles upon your greeting and arrival, he returns your hug and excuses himself from the group. The two of you walk to the quieter part of the house, the kitchen and there was a comfortable silence.

“Sooo you're hosting this big party let me guess,” you tease him and put a hand over your head, “to I don't know find your soulmate? Or just win an attention?”

Jaehyun laughs at your remarks, well those two are not completely wrong. He takes two cups of drinks and hands you one, “Well both are quite true. I'm looking for my special person… maybe i'll find them tonight. Or maybe you can find yours too.” Jaehyun swirls his cup and gulps it down.

You can catch the sweetness his brown and blue eyes hold. Yes the two of you have the same eye colors, but no you're not made for one another! Your eyes and his never change and that means you two have to keep looking on.

“I don't know if this is a good idea Jae, but meeting someone here and then realizing he or she is your soul mate will not be easy! There's like three hundred people here!” you sip on the alcoholic beverage and noted you're not drinking this tonight.

“Well I need to say it is hard, but possible. Besides there are only two hundred fifty invitations sweetie, I am sure you can find someone interesting!” Jaehyun winks and pats your hair carefully in a playful manner.

“Now, enjoy the party! I need to entertain my guests. Oh reach out for me if you need any help! Mom will kill me if something bad happens to you. Bye!” Jaehyun exits the kitchen and like the social butterfly he is, he embraces every single friends coming in.

You found your friends from your sorority, they invite you over to a beer pong game against another frats house and you're always in for games. You join your sisters and the fun begins.

Two hours of fun and games passed by, you've won two rounds of beer pong game, one round of drinking game and you've moved on to the dance floor. The crowd moves along to the dance floor, surrounding the DJ blasting “shut up and dance" loudly on the stereo. You bumped to a lot of people and drunk quite a lot of alcohols from the drinking game earlier. Now you're regretting things since your brain can't really cooperate.

“Hey (y/n)! You free?” Jaehyun asked when he sees you taking some air on one of the empty spots.

You turn your head from day dreaming and nod. Jaehyun takes your hand to bring you and sit down beside a nice looking man. You see Hendery sitting across you with some girls you did not know.

“So guys, this is the one special friend I’ve always mentioned. Her name is (y/n), we've been best friends since middle school.” Jae introduces you to the guys and you take the queue to learn one by one. The room you're sitting in isn't bright, it's dim and so you cannot really study everyone's eyes.

You learn their names quickly, Taeyong, Mark, Ten, Lucas, and a tall guy Johnny.

You got yourself engaged in a deep talk with Taeyong and Mark about raps and lyrics writing. You learn that Taeyong and Mark are studying to be professional lyric writers and turns out you blend well with them. They suddenly talk about their current project and in the dark loud room, you help them with some verses and that's how you ended up exchanging phone numbers with them.

Night deepens, your head is spinning and all you know is you were standing up to grab some water and the blazing disco lights were blinding you, you did not know when someone knocked you out. Making you fall down on someone's body.

---

The loud ringing from your alarm forces you to wake up. You look around to figure out where are you sleeping. You squint your eyes from the bright sun lights entering the room. You take a deep breath and that's when you realize something is wrong. No this is not the usual smell your room has, this is nothing near the fabric softener scent you use.

Your hands rub the bed sheet beneath you and your eyes shot wide open when you feel something that's definitely not bolsters! You turn your head to the side and in a glint of an eye, you quickly check what's beneath your blanket.

You can breathe normally when you see your clothes still completely intact. Now where were you, you try to remember what happens last night, how you ended up sleeping on a foreign bed beside a man who turns out to be the host of the party.

Jaehyun looks so wasted and drunk beside you. Although this is not the first time Jae shared a bed with you, this is definitely the first time he was drunk asleep beside you. You make your way out of the bed and room slowly, not to wake him up.

You leave the room and concluded that this is the same house where the party was held. Turns out you passed out yesterday and someone brought you to the room. You peek on the other room beside yours which is not closed completely. You spot Hendery sleeping there too with Mark and Ten. You see several other bodies passed out on the couches and floor. The smell of alcohol is pungent, you find yourself running with a closed nose to the refrigerator. You take out a sealed water bottle and calm yourself down with it.

You hear some foot steps and turn your back.

“Oh it's you Taeyong!” you greet him and move aside when he heads to the fridge to of course take some waters.

“Woah didn't know you're sleeping here too, thought you went home last night.” He speaks in his bed voice

“I didn’t remember anything. I guess someone bumped into me and I fell? But don't know. Anyways pretty colors over there! Purple and blue. Last night was too dark, can't see the colors.” You drive the conversation away from last night's talk.

“Well yeah I'm still looking for my soulmate, unlike you! Lucky you for you've found yours already.” Tae smirks while looking into your eyes.

You froze, your brain process everything that had happened. Did he just say your eyes are the same colors already?!

“Wait say that again…” you squint your eyes at him.

Taeyong smiles, “sure, your perfect blue eyes are captivating honey,” he teases you a bit, seeing that there's no one else here

You leave the half empty bottle on the counter and drag Taeyong with you as you head to the nearest mirror. It's in the bathroom.

You stand across your own reflection, looking so surprised and bewildered. Taeyong is standing behind you confused as you did not let his hand go.

“I swear Taeyong, yesterday before I went to the party they were still different!” you turn to look at him.

“Well congratulations! You've found your soul mate!” he speaks in a sing song tone.

You squeeze his hand tighter “I did not know who my soul mate is Tae,”

Before Taeyong can react to your sentence a surprised scream erupted.

“(Y/n)?! What are you doing with Taeyong in the bathroom?!” a surprised man stood in horror over the toilet door.

“Oh Hendery hyung! Nothing I just brought Tae here after he saw my eyes! LOOK! LOOK! They're no longer different!” You blink several times to show Hendery your eye colors.

“Damn! You're right, you've met your soul mate!! Congrats girl" Hendery gushes between you and Tae, he engulfs you in a hug and carries you while spinning you one time. He's too happy for you.

“So who's the lucky guy?” Hendery shoots a look at Taeyong's eyes checking their colors.

“Hmm not you. Who else then?” Hendery ponders

“last night I met a lot of people! Too much to actually remember one by one… I don't even have memories on who I met.” You usher the two men out of the bathroom and talk in another space.

“We can start by checking who's here…” Tae suggests and with that the three of you along with Jaehyun start to observe everyone's eyes. Jae needed to use the bathroom and found the three of you there pondering on where to look for your soulmate.

“Nope. None of them have the other color.. or had their color changed yesterday.” You slump on one of the sofa and bite your lips. One habit you always did when you're thinking fast and hard.

“Look, there were like hundreds of people last night and… I met my sisters.. which of course were out of the list. I knew them already and if our eyes were to change colors that won't happen last night.” You try to narrow down the options, because hell who is not excited to meet their soulmates?!

Hendery adds in, “You did play with some of the boys from Omega Lambda and you bumped to some of the boys on the dance floor?”

You shake your head, “didn't make eye contact with the crowds in the dance floor.”

“Then you made eye contact with some boys from Omega Lambda and probably from our frats.” Taeyong clicks his tongue.

“The omega lambda is a five minutes walk from here, we can check on them… there were only 9 of them last night.” Jaehyun stands up and walks to take his jacket. “Shall we? Our frats have 21 boys… might want to meet them at lunch… better that way.” Jaehyun decides everything by himself.

“Sure, Baekhyun is a good friend of mine and he's on Omega lambda.. let's go my car is free.” Taeyong plays with his car keys and the four of us depart.

Upon entering the Omega Lambda house, I definitely did not expect to see the frat house so clean and tidy.

“You're looking for someone whose eyes changed color?” Suho, their leader who answered the door, repeats the question.

The four of us nod eagerly. Suho puts on a sad smile, “am so sorry but nine of us had found their soul mates already and the other three are still…” Suho turns his head to see the living room, “taking shower.”

Baekhyun joins Suho in the front door, he greets Taeyong warmly and smiles brightly for us too.

“Oh looking for someone? Hmm let's see Sehun's still looking for his other pair.. Kai and Tao too. Tao didn't come yesterday so we can check Kai and Sehun.”

Your heart beats faster when you hear Suho calling Kai and Sehun. However to no avail, Suho confirmed that both Kai and Sehun still have different eye colors and none of them have blue eyes before.

The group parted and you're now on your way back home to wash and rest. You're not joining the boys for lunch, you don't feel close yet.

Hendery waits for you to finish showering and when you're out of the steamy door looking all relaxed in a pajamas he can only smile and ruffles your hair.

“Nice blue eyes over there! I kinda remember seeing someone with those blue eyes too, but I can't get the clear face or name… trust me I'll notify you when I find the man!” Hendery pats your shoulder and takes his turn to shower.

You go to the kitchen and start cooking your lunch. Hendery leaves after a cup of coffee and you're finally alone. You try to remember anyone from the party that might be your soulmate, but your brain was not cooperating.

You give up, finish lunch, clean the flat a bit, then you drown yourself on your assignments and papers.

Hendery must have gone to the cinema or somewhere else with the boys, because when you look up from your works, your phone shows 15 missed calls and 10 unread message from Hendery.

You glance to the clock and realize it's already noon and you see a pile of your dirty laundry. You tidy up your books, take your phone and you walk to your dirty pile of clothes. While humming to your favorite song, you take the basket and leave to go to the washing room, before that you borrowed one of Hendery's big sweater. Finally you make your way to the laundry place one block away from your flat.

There was no one when you enter the small area. The lights are bright and the sun has not yet sunken down, so you're not afraid even when you're alone here.

You unload your clothes and after putting in your favorite detergent and softener, you close the door and press the button to start the machine.

You take a step back and lean over one of the machine. Taking a glance to the right and left,, seeing if there is anyone else.

Turns out you're not alone. You spot a man wearing his ear phones, unloading his dirty laundries and ooh my gosh… he’s taking off his clothes.

You let out a small surprised cough and the man turned his body around quickly.

“Sorry…” you whisper as you close your eyes. Your cheeks burn from the embarrassment

“Ah sorry didn't see you there!” the man continues stripping his sweater off and tossing it into the machine along with his other things.

“You can open your eyes … I mean if you're not comfortable I can turn away.” He awkwardly explains.

“No it's okay..” you finally reply after collecting yourself back. Come on it's not the first time you see some man bare chested. Hendery and Jaehyun did that a lot, not to mention your younger brother who liked to strip too.

Once your eyes open, you're already face to face with the man.

“LUCAS?!” you run your eyes to meet his face.

“Yeah it's me.. you remember me!” He smiles genuinely but it didn't last long.

“Why? Something’s wrong?” you ask when you see his surprised face.

“Look at me (y/n)…” Lucas takes your face in his hands and bends himself to match your height or at least to be able to see your eyes.

You were confused at first, but now when you see it… you're suffocating.

“Hey hey..” Lucas can feel your body shaking and your breathing short, “easy easy.. breathe in.. out..”

He guides you through your small panic incident and his big generous smile is back on his face. His hands were already holding on to your shoulder and when your breathing stabilized he cups your cheeks on his large palms. His eyes widens and you're spaced out.

The two of you remain silent… with just one eye contact.. the world feels different. Your skin tingle and your heart feels so warm. No words can explain the exact unexplainable feeling happening right now.

“Lucas..” your voice cracked and a tear escaped from your blue eyes. Your hand creeps to hold onto his which are still cupping your face. You give it a gentle squeeze just to make sure this is real and he is real.

Lucas smiles and with glistening eyes he pulls you into a warm embrace. The linen Hendery's sweater provided to you, cannot hide the fast heart beat behind this man’s wonderful abs.

His hugs feels like your missing piece, his skin feels soft under your touch, and his heart beat sounds like home. You cannot hold back your tears from falling down. You make your arms slowly around his waist and gosh how you fit perfectly on his chest to snuggle.

Lucas carefully brushes your hair away from your face and with most care he locks contact with you one more time.

If time can stop, you'll want it to stop right now right at this moment in a laundry place with no one else. Your machine still buzzing and his too still rocking back and fourth. But amongst those loud rocking voice of water mixing, you find yourself hypnotized by a pair of brown eyes… the exact color you've woken up to for the last 20 years of living. You cannot mistaken that brown for anything else. Lucas too, seems to adore the blue eyes he’s now staring at.

“I love your blue eyes they look magical.” Lucas leans in closer to drown himself on those blue orbs of yours.

You blushed, “and I've finally found the man who gave me those fresh brown iris!”

Lucas crawls his finger to your chin and while keeping eye contact, his face inches closer to you. Your reflex made you close your eyes and your leaping heart flies to cloud nine when his soft lips mold into yours. It’s definitely a new sensation and you found yourself craving for more. What first was a resting lip, slowly moves. He leads you through the kiss and as your feet grow weak from matching his height, Lucas bends down for you. You tangle your hand over his neck and plays softly with his hair. The sweet soft kiss did not end there, you feel a strong hand over your hips and with one tap you jump as he lifts you up to one of the machine.

Thanks to the machine, you're now giving him an easier time to finish what he's doing. Lucas waits for your permission and soon his tongue was dashing through your rows of teeth. Your eyes were still closed, you did not really care if someone spot the two of you making out here not to mention Lucas is in his half naked state.

The kiss ends when you tug his hair as your lungs run out of air. With heavy heart he lets go and your eyes flutter open. Chest heaving up and down, Lucas stare at you in awe and adoration. He tucks your hair behind your ear and cages you between his strong hands.

“So.. look at my blushing princess… so cute.” Lucas coos. You playfully slap him and earns an “ouch" from him.

“Did you just steal my first kiss?” you ask while looking to the distance, your right hand finds its way to touch your swollen lips.

Lucas raises his brow, “That was your first?”

You stare into him with big eyes and nod your head slowly, “why?”

Lucas shakes his head and smirks, “You did amazing for a first timer"

You swing your legs and face your head down to the tiles. You're suddenly so shy in front of the man who just stole your first kiss… and was he even the right man?! What if he's not your soulmate?

“You're now doubting if I am really your soul mate right?” Lucas seriously can read you like an open book.

Your surprised face was enough to ensure him, his guess was right.

“Look, I met the boys earlier and no one has their eye colors changed.. well Mark did but his was not blue. Mark has a green violet eyes… and I was the other lucky guy.” Lucas leans over one machine that is in front of you.

You hide your blushing face, “I know it is you Lucas.. because I don't know.. my heart just tells me you're the one! Your kiss feels wonderful, your touch, your hug … and your eyes! Those were the colors I owned before.”

“And those blue… I cannot mistaken them for another color too! Plus my heart also leads me to you.” Lucas exhales a relieved breath.

There was silence and you hear your machine stopping. You quickly jump off to the ground and take your clothes out. They were dried already and you take your time to fold them.

Lucas is still waiting for his to finish as he chats with you. Now you're exchanging name hobbies and silly facts to one another.

“umm mind to tell me how you ended up half naked here?” You finally found the courage to ask him the first thing that bothers your mind.

Lucas looks puzzled from your question but he answers you anyway, “Clumsy Jaehyun spilled an ice cappuccino on my last piece of fresh sweater. I've had him clean it quick with tissues and some water, but heck I cannot stand the stickiness. So I decided to skip the movie and wash my clothes. Apparently because of Jaehyun's clumsiness I finally met you! The love of my life, the one for me.” Lucas explains as he dresses himself back in one of the fresh laundries.

“Starving?” Lucas asks as the two of you head to the exit door.

You nod.

“Got any schedule tonight?” he asks once again.

You shake your head, “I'm free for the night.”

“Great! Let's put our clothes back and we'll go to this restaurant I love.” Lucas holds one of your hand and just like that the two of you walk on the side walk hand in hand

You pass his house first and he came back with his motorcycle

“Hop on, we'll drop your laundry and we’ll go eat!”

You sit behind him and encircle your arms around his torso. Lucas zoomed to your flat and you rush your way to the door.

Quickly you put on a lipstick, grab your bag and wallet, tossed Hendery's sweater aside and you dress yourself quickly in a warm garment. Motorcycle ride on February after the sun is down will be chilling.

You descend through the stairs and greet Lucas with one twirl “How do I look for our first date?”

He pecks your lips quick, “perfect! Now hop on and hold on tight sweetheart, tonight will be unforgettable!”

Life has twists and unpredictable turns, yet in the end you'll find your soulmate just like finding your way back home. It feels assuring, safe, and wonderful. You'll know he or she is the one, once your eyes meet and your lips touch.

The end 🙌

Thank you for reading 🤧🥺🥺💖

[bakugou-tm]

fate’s design; bakugou

Okay so this was one of the few ideas I had going on but this one I had after I heard about the live action Tangled being made (literally wanted to be cast for that so bad). But anyways the reader has a healing quirk from her hair just like Rapunzel’s when she sings the song, and you can find out the rest as you read ;)

word count: 3000+

warnings: kidnapping, mad angst but a happy ending :-)

Emotion was a long lost friend of yours.

When you were younger, your life was filled with emotion.

The joy you felt when your family came over for summer cookouts and you got to play in the pool with your cousins while the sweet smell of meat burned on the grill. The sadness you felt when you had to reveal to your parents that you flunked your first math test. The anger you felt when your father ate the last cookie you had made with your mother that weekend, though it was quickly resolved when he returned to the store with a fresh batch.

All of these emotions, no matter good nor bad, you were at bay with. Content with even. Because at that time it was just so nice to.. feel something. Anything.

How you wished you could feel again, have a family again, a life.

That was all ripped from your grasp when you felt your very last emotion: pain.

The day was just like any other, you were walking home from school on sixth year in primary school. Your classes were beginning to grow harder, but thanks to your helpful friends and wise parents you had no troubles. After all, you and your peers were preparing for high school.

You remembered how excited you were for high school. Getting to meet new friends, join new clubs, play new sports. Perhaps you watched too many cliché high school movies, or maybe you had been too naive.

Probably the ladder.

You took the same path you always took, crossing through pretty neighborhoods with large historic trees and cracked sidewalks that brought back memories to your youthful days.

Just as you turned the corner you felt that feeling of comfort in your chest upon seeing the rustic color of your home, the smell cherry blossom tree overwhelming your senses as it did every afternoon.

You allowed the faint breeze to flow through your long soft locks, the occasional blossom falling far from the tree and into your hair.

You would always think... silly flower, you don’t belong in my hair. You belong in the tree with your family.

Walking peacefully down the street you made sure to skip over each crack, the knacking fear of the old children’s tale still in the back of your head.

To you it was just like any other weekday, the same old routine, same old walk, same old emotions.

But that day was far from normal, it was the last day you had the luxury of feeling.

You remembered the way a shiver ran up your spine when you felt someone entwining their fingers in your long locks. You remembered the way your parents ran outside at the sound of your shrill screams. You remembered being held back as you were dragged into a rundown van, your poor excuse of trying to escape proving to be useless. You remember having to watch your parents get engulfed in flames, their screams of agony filling your ears which over-rid the sound of tape being slapped across your mouth and body.

But the one thing that really swam in your mind like poison was the torn blossom that laid much to peacefully on the palm of your hand as tears of pure fear danced down your cheeks.

Silly flower, you don’t belong here.

Things have never been the same since that day. Sometimes you tried to think back on that day, those memories, just to try feel something again. But it never worked, nothing worked.

You followed the same routine everyday. Wake up, eat whatever scraps you could get, sit in the corner silently with no thought in mind, wait for one of the injured villains to come in, sing your song, heal them, hope they didn’t ask for much more from you, sleep, repeat.

You used to hate it so much, helping the people that took your life away against your will. Knowing you were the power of the sick people that ruined other people’s lives everyday. But at this point, you didn’t even know what it felt like to hate.

All you knew how to do was sing that sickening song and sleep. Nothing sounded the same anymore, nothing felt the same, nothing tasted the same. The bottom line was, nothing was the same.

And for six years that was your mindset, nothing would ever be the same. This would be your life til the day you die. That is, if you were lucky enough to see death’s doors.

But one day that mindset changed, your life changed forever. Thanks to the boy with crimson eyes.

-

You sat in the corner of your room, your bottom growing numb against the hardwood floors but you couldn’t care less.

Admittedly your room had gotten some upgrades since you first arrived here. From 11 to 18 you had finally been able to see a bed again, but it mattered not. The bed felt the same as the floor at this point.

Your (e/c) orbs were glued to the floor, your eyelids forcing themselves open pitifully as you traced the outlines of the hardwood as you did everyday.

With your room being below ground, probably in the middle of some rundown city, you weren’t able to hear much of what was going on in the outside world. Sometimes you would imagine what was happening, what holidays were going on and what families were spending time together.

It probably felt nice.

When a loud bang arose from upstairs, your eyes merely flicked to the door with uninterested. Probably one of the villains getting in a fight. Their hideout was in a rundown bar of sorts, this leading to the buffoons always being a drunk mess.

All you could do was hope that they would be sober enough when they had their daily visit with you.

The banging only proceded to get louder, shouts filling the air but you simply ignored it. Letting your head lower to the ground again as your (h/c) locks showered along your face.

Through everything you’ve been through, one thing that never changed was your hair. No matter how much you tugged and pulled at it, wishing it would fall out and end this misery you called a life: it remained.

Soft and gentle as ever, the strands never bothering to move out of place as the cascaded down your smooth shoulders.

It made you absolutely sick.

As the banging grew closer to your door you swore you almost felt a bit of curiosity fill your mind. But who were you kidding, you knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you.

Even as new voices filled the air and quirks seem to go off every which way, you failed to believe it was anything of your concern. You had been tricked long enough, you wouldn’t dare fall for hope again.

Curling your scratched up knees to your chin you let more of your hair cascade around your face, hoping to drown out the sounds and maybe even fall asleep.

The vibrations along the walls were surprisingly lulling to you, your head leaning against the cold concrete as you let your (e/c) irises see the last of this damp room for today. 

But apparently your luck was runnign short today. Just before you could doze off into what freedom you had, the door slammed open.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, your (e/c) orbs peaking up to see which villain you had to heal today, only to see a figure you didn’t recognize.

He was dressed in a uniform, perhaps a villain you’ve never met? But he had no serious injuries, what else could he be here for?

One thing that stuck out to you was the slight confusion and horror that was washed over his expression as he looked you up and down.

If you had any bit of feeling left in your body you would almost be intimidated by the handsome man, his crimson iris’ slicing through you as his lips formed into a snarl showing off his near perfect teeth.

“You’re the flower they’ve been talking about?”

The sound of the word flower made you grimace, the word making you sick to the stomach as a quick flashback of the broken blossom in your hand so many years ago came to mind.

When arriving this the dungeon you now called home, the villains took note of the many blossoms in your hair from your tree at home, deciding to give you the nickname “flower”.

The word you once loved now made you sick.

Your flinching didn’t go un-noticed by the man before you, his eyes narrowing into mere slits as he clenched his fists.

“Sick bastards.”

Before you knew it he was walking over to you, extending out a palm to you awaiting you to take it.

He stood there, his eyes glancing back at the door to make sure no other shitty villain was coming before he glanced back at you only to see your body shoved even further into the corner.

His eyebrow rose in confusion as he shook his hand in an annoyed manor. What the hell were you doing?

“I’ve already done my job for today, please let me rest until tomorrow.” You spoke with quivering lips, only leading the ash blond to click his tongue.

“I’m not here to use you I’m here to get you the hell out of here, I’m a damn hero.”

In that moment you had never felt so overwhelmed in your life. So confused and unsure what to do. Hero? There was such a thing? How could this be real? You were sure your doomed life had been planned out, what was going on? Could life not let you chip away in peace?

The so called “hero” before you was growing impatient. He quickly crouched down on his toes, letting his arms lay across his knees as he looked at you with stern eyes, mumbling something about this being shitty Deku’s job.

“Listen I’m a fucking pro-hero okay? We’ve been chasing this case for months, hearing that the League of Villains had a secret weapon called their “Flower” that’s been the source of all their success these past few years,” The man explained with a sigh as he grit his teeth, “We expected you to be an actual flower, not a damn human, but it turns out these assholes are more disturbing than we expected.”

Your eyes felt glazed over as he offered his hand out once more.

“Now I need you to fucking trust me so I can get you out of here got it?”

For once in these past long years... you felt something. You felt the warm salty water dance across your cheek. You felt the rough rubber of this man’s glove as your slender fingers slid across his own. You felt... damn you say it.. hope.

Swallowing what saliva you had formulated in your mouth, you gave a quick nod before completely taking his hand and allowing him to lift you up from the floor.

One moment you were in the room you had lived in for six years, now you were running down the hallway. Nothing was in your way, it felt so surreal.

This had to be happening for a reason, maybe this was a test. Were they going to kill you if you betrayed them? Who were you kidding, killing you would be the easy way out. They needed you.

When the sight of stairs came into sight your eyes widened, you remembered those from your first day here. Upstairs, outside those doors was the real world.

For a quick second you almost felt like smiling, like screaming from pure joy. But you should’ve known what that would lead to. As a bullet sunk through the chest of the hero before you a scream did end up releasing from your chest.

But not from pure joy.

The hero sunk to his knees, his free gloved hand grasping his now bloodied chest before falling to the ground.

“Now now look what you’ve done flower, you know we have strict rules to keep you safe here.” The villain spoke before you, his gun flicking around his finger as if it were a toy as he began to walk towards you.

So the universe was still playing tricks on you, it wanted to make sure that you knew life still could be worse. And it was, it just kept getting worse and worse.

At least before you didn’t have to see the lifeless bodies that you had caused, but now as you saw the hero before you losing any sign of life in his crimson orbs you felt as if your body was being torn up from the inside. Just like when you saw your parents.

“Come on now flower, let’s get you back to your roo-”

A loud explosion from upstairs was heard causing you and the villain to stumble to your feet. Glancing up you noticed that heavy amounts of dust and ash from the cement walls were clouded around the villain before you.

In that moment you saw two choices. Two choices that life had bestowed upon you. You could either wait for those five seconds and allow the villain to take you back to that prisoned hole.

Or you could safe this hero and possibly have another chance at life. But why would you even try. Had you not learned after six years that life was not in your favor? What was even the point?

As your (e/c) eyes flicked down to the lifeless hero you wanted so badly just to lay beside him and give up, accept the cursed fate stowed upon you.

But as you looked into his crimson eyes, the only thing you could see were the eye’s of your parents. The lifeless look across their expressions as they screamed in pain from the intense flames engulfing them.

Back then you were too weak to do anything about it. You had to watch that happen and allow your life to become what it was. You... You couldn’t do that again.

No.

Gritting your teeth you dragged the hero through one of the now broken down doors, hastily wrapping your locks of hair around his chest as he coughed most likely from pain, holding at his wound.

You narrowed your eyes intensely and focused on making sure you hair wrapped around every inch of his wound.

The ash blond hero narrowed his own eyes up to you weakly, fighting to speak as he watched you maneuver around his corpse.

“W..What the hell are y..you doing?” The hero rasped, his hand trying to grasp around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, “Get the fuck out of here, save... save yourself!”

You simply ignored his pleads, tightening your locks of hair before inhaling deeply.

“Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine..” You spoke softly, your eyes closing in focus as the hero before you gave you a crazed expression, “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.”

Initially the hero was disturbed by your soft singing, wondering if this was some sort of song of lost hope. How could you accept your fate like this? He couldn’t seem to plug anything together until he noticed your roots of your long (h/c) locks glow a bright golden color, the bright effect slowly cascading down your locks like a waterfall.

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fates’ design,” You sang peacefully, channeling your quirk’s energy to the man’s injury, “Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine...”

Upon those words of the song your gentle (e/c) eyes opened slowly to glance down to the hero beneath you, his eyes growing wider as a mix of shock from your quirk’s magic and his sudden energy being brought back to him.

“What once was mine.”

The ash blond failed to notice his steady breathing once again, rather focusing on your hair’s golden shine fading away as your locks began to loosen from around his chest. His eyes followed down to his once bloody chest to now see the hole from the wound completely gone.

Suddenly it all made sense.

You were their healing flower, the source of their power. None of the members of the League of Villains were being taken down because they had unlimited lives. That’s why they had no fear running into battles, they knew they had no risk. Because they had you.

The young hero wasn’t sure if it was from the purely radiant song you sang, or maybe it was the action that had become of the song, or maybe now he was realizing just how truly beautiful you were inside and out. As if he had known you for years. But there was one thing he knew for sure.

Sitting up from his laid down position, the hero gently held both of your palms into his own as he gave you a gentle yet stern look.

“Flower, I will protect you at all costs, from this day on. You will never see the likes of these sick bastards again. We’re going to survive this and I’m going to be your damn hero.”

What was that feeling? The overwhelmingly warm surge through your chest. It felt as if he you had been stabbed in the heart, but it wasn’t pain you were feeling at all. In fact the warmth was spreading through your entire body, as if something inside you had been reawakened.

Part of you wanted to feel concerned about it but you just couldn’t with the other thought swarming in your head.

The hero just called you by the name you swore you would hate for the rest of your life, and yet you felt nothing but trust in the man. The word you swore would always make you feel sick... made you feel hope. 

And for once in six years you allowed the corners of your lips to rise as you took his hand and spoke the first words of your new life with this crimson eyed man.

“I trust you hero.”

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter 16; Escape

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-  

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

                                                      ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

t's not the shade we should be cast in It's the light and it's the obstacle that casts it It's the heat that drives the light It's the fire it ignites It's not the wakin', it's the risin' - Nina Cried Power, Hozier I don’t know why, but something about this song spoke to me writing this chapter 🖤❣️ Along with “Running Away” by Maverick Sabre. One of my favourite artists of all time - go and check him out, he’s simply awesome.

Waiting was her greatest nuisance. She was on tenterhooks all day.

As if expecting someone to burst in and proclaim the true circumstance of her guilt. She’s peeking around corners and dreading every moment of cursed silence. Every lapse in conversation is a dagger in her side. She keeps expecting to be caught out.

By the time the evening draws in, she’s nearly apoplectic. She’s sat in the parlour watching the sky darken. And with every second of it blackening her excitement grows in her chest. Gestating bigger and bigger with every second she hears tick by on the mantel clock.

She hardly spoke through dinner. Just listened to her sisters usual fussing and Mama disapproving of yet someone else of their acquaintance. Iris won’t miss that.

She nearly leaps out her skin when Meg bursts in the clattering dining room door without warning, with a note to hand her father. A missive from the farmhand.

Her heartbeat slows to its normal thud. She’s unaware that her father watches her from down the table with a casting silent eye and a look of concern. Mama and the girls were none the wiser.

Then they sit in the parlour as night is heavy and steely blue-black at the window like a velvet drape. Fire and candlelight cloaks them all as the girls embroider. Mama reads a novel, and father sits behind the spread wall of his paper.

Iris takes a moment to look around at them.

She catches her fathers eye as he turns the page over in his papers. He gives her a fleeting smile that passes the time of day. She watches the way the ochre of the flames in the half blade off the lense of his reading glasses. He returns to his pages.

She’ll miss his silent sympathy. His calm presence was a balm she doesn’t know how she can be without.

She looks across at her vain, silly simpering sisters. She’s astonished to find that she will miss them too.

She’ll miss their gossiping and - amazingly - the screeching matches that erupt over who gets to wear their new bonnet or who gets the silk slippers. Or Iris’s pretty pieces of jewellery. Apart from two very adored beloved pieces she’s taking, she’s leaving the rest for them to scrap over. She smiles thinking on it.

It’s odd to think she’ll be in Bavaria. Living in a castle as a Lady to Lord Ren. And she’ll think of home, and she’ll grin, wondering if her vapid sisters will be fighting tooth and claw - having a tug of war - over her earrings or her pearl clasp bracelet.

She’ll miss Flora’s fiery head. In both temper and colouring. How bravely she defends her poor choices in various men of the militia. Then loves a completely different one the next day. She’ll miss how she always puts a pouch of dried flowers on Iris’s pillow when she picks too many - she always picks too many.

And Posy. Posy and her dreadful sweet tooth. How she always gave Iris heaps of her favourite pudding even though mama insisted she didn’t want her eldest getting too plump. Posy scraped it all onto Iris’s plate when her head was turned. Even if it was her sisters favourite.

And even though the way she borrows her books and dog ears the pages makes iris grit her teeth - she’s going to miss that dreadfully. She’ll see some plain unspoiled page corner in a book and her heart will pang and ring, sobbing, and longing for home.

Such longing.

Yearning for her squabbling siblings. For the sight and scent of her father’s study. For her tribe, where she has belonged for all these three and twenty years of her life. She’s sad that she can’t seem to belong here anymore. That’s one thing that causes her grief her about this arrangement. She must be apart from the three people she loves most.

She isn’t sorry to be leaving. Running away and absconding like a thief in the night. She can’t deny that this is her golden chance to escape. Flee from the life that drowned her.

This is her chance to share in a soul shaking love. One that’s seared her devotion to Kylo right down into the marrow of her bones. Scored his name on her heart in bleeding letters. She’s forever devoted. In a way none of them can yet - or will ever - understand.

She hopes in time, they will forgive her. That their leniency will outweigh the scandal and betrayal of her actions.

She casts a glance across to her mother where she silently reads her novel. No affection springs to mind.

Perhaps if she’d loved her daughter more, Iris could hate her less. If she’d even been affectionate instead of plotting. As it stands selling her eldest like a broodmare to matrimony, didn’t encourage anything for Iris beyond resentment. She was in a loveless unhappy marriage and she has no qualms about seeing her eldest shoehorned into something exactly the same. That is unforgivable in Iris’s mind. To experience the trials of such a match for years - and to then glean no lessons from it. It’s cruel.

And all for her want of connection-

Iris refocuses on her embroidery hoop. Stabbing thread harshly through the muslin and looping it through. She works diligently until the fire starts to die down. Father retires to bed. Watching his eldest with sparkling green eyes as he quits the room. Iris is preoccupied looking into her lap at her sewing.

She too heads for bed. Feigning tiredness even though she’s never been more wired. Never been so wide awake. And she was trying not to do anything out of the ordinary as per her usual routine.

She walks past her mothers and her sisters with a lump in her throat. Committing the last few scraps of moments of them to memory. “Goodnight Flora, Posy. Goodnight Mama.” She says simply as she crosses the room.

They call affable words her way. Mother opts for a single word in passing. “Night.”

Iris wonders if she’ll realise one day that would be the last words she ever spoke to her.

She opens the parlour door and slips out. The fire in the foyer hearth crackles. She sees father is in his study. Judging by the slithering glow of candlelight under the door.

She so badly wants to rush in and sob her goodbyes into his chest. Cry that she doesn’t understand how he could’ve sat there and watches Mama push and shove and pummel her around. She’ll never understand - but all the same, that doesn’t stop her from loving him dearly.

She thinks better of it. Climbs the stairs for bed. Confines herself in her dark bedroom. And then comes the true test of her bravery. She has to wait.

And wait and wait. And listen. Hearing as the whole house slowly drifts to dark. To sleep. For everyone to take to their beds.

She can’t read a novel. She can barely stand sitting still. She sits by the fire. Watching the door. Her bag was packed hours ago. Her meagre clutch of possessions. Some loved items and a couple of her favourite dresses and chemises.

She had penned a note for her family explaining every detail of her reasons for leaving. She left a separate letter for a Hux. Though he’ll probably cast it in the fire when he hears the news.

She’ll be leaving the heirloom engagement ring sat on top of it. Leaving the two ruinous sheets of paper on the end of her bed. Waiting for tomorrow. When it’s discovered she is gone.

Her bag sits by her feet. Along with her coat. She sits in the dark like a lonely widow and lets the amber glow of the fire die.

She’s already laced into her new wool lined boots. She wore two sets of stockings and her heaviest chemise.

She’s in a thick ruby wool dress that will be adequate for travelling. It’s rather a plain gown but it’s warm - he had said to dress warm.

She puts her hair into a free loose bun at the nape of her neck. Tied back with a snip of gold muslin. Her skirts will wrinkle in the coach but she doesn’t care about such a thing. She probably looks dishevelled and not at all pretty. But she cares not-

Everything is ready. Now there is only noiselessness. And anticipation

She hears her sisters dainty thumping treads. And then mothers stern steps. And then Meg and Julia gabbing about something, a man most likely, as they extinguish the candles on the landing and all over the walls and hallways. Putting the whole house into thick dull silence and darkness. Putting the day to rest.

She listens to their footsteps creak and creep up the attic stairs. The door closing in their wake.

Iris crosses to her door and opens it a crack. Peering out she can see nothing but the dull moonlight striping from the far landing window, across the floorboards. Silver streaks chase up to her door in the fluttering moonlight swaying in drips off the tree being fussed in the wind outside. Snow is starting to flake down onto the windowpane.

She shuts the door again. It was nearly midnight and her hour is approaching. She prays her bravery rises to meet it.

Father hasn’t come up yet. He was still in his study most like - she can get out the house without disturbing him. She’s certain. He’s dozed off in his armchair or got his head in his business letters and ledgers for the farm.

She puts her coat and slips her gloves on, she has second thoughts about her scarf and shoves it in her bag.

It contained her life, this travel bag, yet it seemed laughably light. And it carried everything she cherished. There’s something a little tragic about that, she decides.

She seized her bag in one hand, and her modest bonnet in the other. To disguise her hair. Should anyone catch a glimpse of her, out unchaperoned, at this time of night. If they recognised her. She can’t be too careful.

She steps to her door, bonnet and bag in hand. Coat on her back, and she stands there, glancing around at what’s left. She spied the two innocent squares of paper sat on her neatly made bed.

Such small things. And yet the words inked within those pages will alter lives. It seems an odd sort of cruel madness.

She silently steps out into the hall. Shuts the door on her room for good. Shuts the door on all this kind of life had offered her. She edges slowly along the floorboards. Listening to the clock in the foyer tinkle the chimes of the half hour before approaching midnight.

She wished she could give her siblings proper goodbyes. She thinks this as she tiptoed past their door. Her shoe creaks the whining boards and she freezes. Heart thudding up to choke in her mouth.

She feels horrified and sick, until her ears strain for noise and all she can hear is night drawing on around the stone walls outside.

She relaxed and crept further along the landing. The tips of her new shoes avoiding the truly noisy spots. She makes it to the top of the stairs and edges down inch by hushed inch. Glove skimming along the banister in a scraping soft hiss as she goes. When she gets to the foyer she creeps toward the door to the kitchens.

A figure awaits her in the armchair. By a dwindling fire.

Iris gasps and almost drops her bag. Her fear bubbled up and made her lip tremble terribly. She’d been caught out. Oh god no. She opens her mouth to speak but no defence comes.

Her father turns his head from where he’s sat fireside in his dressing gown, in his slippers breeches and shirt. Persian house slippers on his feet. His glasses were folded in his hands and there is a pensive weight on his greying brow.

“Papa...” She squeaks in a horrified whisper.

He eyes the bag and her coat. He is not a senseless man. He’s already well assessed what this means.

He swallows and rises to his feet. Lumbering up to his full, tall height. Pushing himself up off the chair by the arms. Like an aged old oak standing proud.

When he turns into the path of the moonlight flooded window behind him, it’s then that she sees the tears in his eyes. And ones that already stained down his cheeks. Her mouth gapes.

“Forgive me. I didn’t intend you to see me in this state...” He glances at her with red rimmed eyes. Raw and stark against the hazel bottle green of his pupils.

Iris is saddened for him. Turns out she wasn’t the only being in this house to cry alone.

“You are... leaving. So I see.” He comments offhand.

“I can’t marry him. Papa.” She blurts out in a hush.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ll want to stop me. That I’m ruining the family with reckless abandon. To convince me to stay. But you can’t. I cannot do it. I can’t walk into a life I will be leading falsely...” She tries summoning and explanation.

Her father cuts through her speech. Coming closer and clasping her hand in his. “Iris. Iris my dear-“ He soothes. He draws both her hands into his.

“I know.” He answers.

“I have no intention of stopping you. I only wished to detain you for a moment, to give you my blessing.” He offers.

She could be taken down with a tiny waft of a feather.

“Don’t mistake me. Please do not think me blind to your happiness, like your mother is.” He begins.

She’s aghast.

“I have watched you for these past few weeks. Grinding your teeth and holding that tongue of yours back when that entitled boy makes a remark you don’t agree with. I have watched him belittle and ignore you. And pass you over. To treat you as no more than a fertile vessel or commodity to be won. I want more life for you, than his meagre offering.” He holds firm.

“He dulls you. My dear. And you are too sharp and curious and intelligent to marry such a mulish man, who would never appreciate what a strong, kind and capable wife he has.”

Iris cries.

“He already sets your jaw on edge, even now. I can see it. And I cannot, will not, suffer the pain of seeing you trapped unto a marriage where your partner can never love nor respect you.” He tells her. “I know the pain well. It is not palatable.” He sighs.

He drops his eyes in shame. “I have not been a decent father to you. I have let my influence and opinion be set aside in favour of your being governed and bullied by your mother.” He bites out. His eyes fill with more tears. Voice strained.

“I am a coward. Iris-“ He begins.

She shakes her head. But he’s resolute to continue.

“No. I am. I am. And I’ve been weak. And what’s worse still is that I was a silent coward. I didn’t even speak up for the joy of my own daughter. I will never live that... dishonour...down. So long as I breathe. And for that, I am so very sorry. And you have all of my penitence for such a crime.” He says to her. Wringing her hands in his desperately.

“Oh, papa.” She cries. Voice no more than a croak. She throws herself in his arms and he sobs as he clutches her. Sways her into a hug and buried his mouth in her hair. Holding her close. He sniffs and sobs. She feels his chest bob with his cries.

“There is nothing you need apologise for.” She assures him.

Mr Ashton smiles. She was the sweetest soul under this roof. And he’ll miss her with every passing minute.

He pulls back and cups her hands. He doesn’t hide his tears. He doesn’t hide any of it and Iris aches with love for him.

“There is a great deal I must be sorry for, My sweet. I will live out the guilt of it eventually. So long as I’m contented that you are safe and happy.” He says gently. “That can be my saving grace.”

“Lord Ren is a very decent man by all accounts. I’m sorry I can’t claim to know him better than I do.” He counsels.

“I love him.” Iris says freely.

The first time she’s admitted it aloud and it makes more tears come. Father gives her his kerchief and tells her to keep it for the journey awaiting ahead of her.

“Then he is the most worthy and decent man living. Because you are every good thing embodied. And he couldn’t be lacking of those virtues either, or he simply wouldn’t be deserving of you.” He comments truthfully.

He sighs a deep breath. “Get out of this cursed god-forsaken village Iris.” He squeezes her hands tighter. Shaking his head.

Be free.

“Get out of this rotten bloody place and go to him. Marry the man your heart wants. I never did wed for true love, and it’s haunted me, my entire life long.” He promises.

She was the only decent thing his marriage has ever brought to him.

She hugs him again. “I’ll miss you most sorely.” She pledges.

“And I, you.” He strokes her back. Shuts his eyes and savours his daughter before she’s lost to him for who knows how long.

She pulls away he strokes hair off her cheek. Blinking in the sight of her face in the moonlight. For the last few seconds of her in actuality. Committing her to memory. For that’s all he’ll have of her soon.

“With you gone, I sincerely doubt I shall hear anything sensible cross your relatives tongues for quite some time.” He japes.

“Remark upon me in my poor state, once in a while, won’t you. And pray for my dear fraying sanity.” He sweeps more tears away. She blots them onto the back of her gloves.

“I’ll pray daily.” She smiles weakly. Bag in hand. Aswell as her bonnet. If that didn’t educate on the silliness of her sisters - nothing would.

He pauses to retrieve something from the mantel. She sees he clasps a little curved silver item. No bigger than a matchbox. Swirled with ornate silver gilding. He takes it and pressed it into her palm. It strikes a sudden zing of cold at her palm. She knows this ornament. It is the music box. The small Fabergé one that sat on the shelf in his office. His grandfather had imported it from Paris on his travels for her grandmother.

“I would like you to have this. So you have a piece of Ashton heirloom in your pocket as you go away to a brave new world.” He insists.

Iris opens the lid and the little while nightingale pops up, springing free to sing it’s call. She clasps it gently.

“I couldn’t-” She sobs. She remembers her sisters admiring it too. It seemed unfair he should gift it to her.

“No tears. My dear. No tears, I beg you. It’s yours and I’m bestowing it to you. I want you to see it and remark on those here at home, who still and have always loved you. Even if we didn’t show it as we ought.” He insists. Taking his hands from her.

She looks across at him. She’d been mistaken to think herself unloved by her parents. He did love her. He could just never bring himself to say so. Iris is awfully glad he’s taken this moment before all is lost.

“Go now. Make haste. Don’t linger too long bidding me farewell.” He offers. Walking with her across to the hallway leading to the kitchen. She tucks the music box safely in her bag. It chimes and chirps as she nestled it into her clothes. She reaches for him once more.

Iris squeezes his hand. “You have all my love. I’ll write when I can. Not for her.” She shakes her head, biting the word crossly. “But for you-“ She pledges.

“Send it to Mr. Grayson at the farm. He’ll see it reaches me safe.” He urges. She smiles. Nodding. Tears sparkling down her face.

“I’m sorry to say I will have shrouded this house in shame and gossip come the morning.” She frets.

He shakes his head with a fond smile. “We are tougher than we look. Never more so than when we are tested.” He assures. Such confidence in his Apple green and red raw eyes. She instantly believes him.

She throws herself into a hug. Fists a hand in his dressing gown shoulder and takes a deep breath of him one last time. Old leather musk of books and the sting of peppermint. “I love you.” She gasps with sad finality.

He nods. Swallowing a lump of stony sadness down in his throat.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, my dear dear girl.” He smiles. Eyes wet again. He cups her face and admires her for a second.

She clasps his hand tight at her cheek. And then she lets go-

He doesn’t have the strength to watch her leave. It’s too sad. Too hard.

He looks away and doesn’t return his eyes until the latch on the kitchen door softly clicks back into place in its frame.

The air hums with the absence of her. He prays to any god listening to convey her safely into Lord Ren’s arms.

He’d accompany her himself if it wouldn’t be so ruinous to explain come the morning. Why he was out of bed and out of doors at such an hour should anyone wish to seek after him. And she’ll move quicker without his old legs slowing her down.

He turns his eyes up to the snowy swirled heavens. And wills for her to have a better life than the one he could offer her here. He hopes he can see her again one day. When all this has passed. The hope for her is his salvation.

She scarpers across the moonlit lawn. Grass cold and crunching with frost under her feet. Snow is beading gently out the sky.

The clear moon of earlier has been replaced by chowder thick clouds. The cold wraps around her in a harsh biting embrace. Stinging at her exposed skin and making her hurry along all the more.

She takes the back lane to the woods. She didn’t wish to risk walking out in full view of the front of the house, down the drive. The road is pale with ice and dusted with snow. Icing sugar powder of it spills over her shoes.

The woods are already thick with it. Black trunks loom thin and warped; born out the white blanket of the ground. The tips of the trees blaze with flakes caught between them. Flecking the leaves.

She crunches her way along the lane. Her stride was something between a skip and scurry. Breath ghosting up in the air and her heart rattling in her ears. Her lungs sting and burn dry with cold as her breath drags into her body.

She cuts through the woods. Afraid her interlude with her father has made her late, and now Kylo would be worried she’d snubbed him.

She runs quick through the trees. Snapping slushing and scuffing twigs, frost and snow underfoot. Cold sneaks up her skirts where she holds them up to run but she doesn’t care- doesn’t even notice.

The trees are so gathered, that the branches rip at her skin as she sprints through them. Tears at her hair and her clothes. Snags are her and her cheeks sting. She bats away the grabbing things. They were like hands trying to tug her back. Trying to keep her tamed. To root her to this place. She’s having none of it.

Her hair got tangled in the snatching trees too. Pulls and only when she feels loose strands lap at her neck does she realise that the muslin had been torn and ripped right out. She presses onwards.

Her face stings and her eyes stream with cold. She comes up the lane that leads her to the church. Gnarled and slanted stubby shapes of the mossy gravestones are fog grey against the snow and the dark. Broken teeth of them rearing like lumpy beasts up out the snow. She throws the church gate open. Doesn’t care that it creaks. She runs up the worn grass path shoes scuffing at the pristine falling snow.

She comes out into the code of woods the other side of the church. The thing emerged out the snow with shimmering silver stone and the slate of its roof is edged with white where flakes settle. Oozing between the cold stony cracks.

The stained glass windows look dead and dull. The colours murkier in the dark. Smoky black and bleeding crimson staining the glass. The whites of the painted saints eyes seem to be arcing and watching over her in derisory disappointment.

She doesn’t glance back. She makes for the woods where she knows he’ll be waiting. She holds her skirts and she laughs as she runs. Her lungs puffed dry and freezing. But she’s so giddy she feels like her sides will split. Her cheeks ache from smiling. Not far to tread now. The cyclops of the moon hiding behind murky clouds watches her too. Silently keeping her secret.

She clears the worst of the trees and her heart soars when she sees a stark black shape of a coach up ahead. With an equally as tall dark haired man. His back to her as he stands in the snow. Head bowed down in his hands. Hair ruffled and dotted with flecks of it.

She presses a hand to her tummy where she suspects she now has a stitch. Because it simply feels so stupid - the amount of love and bliss thats coursing through her blood.

Kylo is outside the coach, of course he is. He’s much the same as her. He can’t sit still.

The gigantic elegant thing that will convey them to the Highlands set by the edge of the snowy muddy road. He’s pacing on it. Horses stamping in the cold. A shivering driver bundled up in pelts and thick coats.

He’s on the painful knifes edge of fretting. She’s not here yet. And it’s well past midnight. He’s worn circles in the snowy road. His coat heavily lapping and catching at his calves. The cold doesn’t bother him. Doesn’t touch him. He’s wearing a white shirt with the collar left undressed and pulled open.

It spills down his marble carved chest. Revealing him to the dark bitter woods and the snow.

He keeps bringing his silver pocket watch to hand - she’s ten minutes delayed. He watches the eleventh minute tick over.

His mind runs with the possibilities. She could’ve fallen and broken something in her haste.

She might’ve been discovered sneaking out and her mother tied her down, locked her in her bedchamber and threw away the key for good measure. His brain bubbles with mania and panic at the possibilities that could keep her from him.

He turns another circle and scans the horizon again. Sharp eyes not missing a thing. A cold breeze shudders across him from up the road. He stops dead in his tracks. That scent.

That was her. She was here.

He whips around, hands falling by his sides. Just in time to see her emerge quickly from the misty white of the woods.

Clad in her blue coat and a red dress. Her bag in hand. Her hair loose, curling and spilling over her shoulders. Cheeks are red and icy cold. Stung by the wind.

She’s never looked more lovely. So wild and free. And all his.

Her smile grows so great. As does his. She slows to a stop. Panting for breath that she’ll never catch. Not now. Not with him stood there looking all dashing.

Iris hikes her skirts and coat up, and runs straight to him and she’s no shame about it either.

She drops her bag on her way to him, uncaring for its contents. He meets her halfway. Their bodies clash in such a tempest of love.

She throws herself into his chest and he hauls her up so her feet don’t touch the ground. His strength was always so vastly great and he shows it in the way he lifts her so easily. Cradles the precious small weight of her in his big arms.

They collapse into glad sighs and she strokes her hand over his hair. Smiling out in bliss as she holds the back of his head. He clutched her back and her hair and buried his face in the crook of her cold neck. It delights and thrills her and she can’t conceive she can deserve so much happiness-

He sighs into her neck. Smiling into her skin. He draws back and looks right at her beautiful cold-kissed complexion. “Ready for this adventure? Lady Ren...” He asks. Cupping her cheek and most of her jaw.

“Wholeheartedly.” She answers.

He plucks a soft lingering kiss at her cheek and sets her down. Scoops up her bag and her hand and leads her through the crunching snow into the coach.

He opens the door for her and she clambers in. Erland snorts and shifts and stamps at her even from up the front of the carriage. Determined to have his share - he was such a diva he could never be left out.

“She’s coming with us, you great big fool.” Kylo comments to his horse. Iris laughs at their exchange as she settles herself in the plush velvet lined carriage.

Scarlet draping over every inch of it. A watery patch of moonlight slanted and cast down from the windows in the doors. She scoots across the bench for Kylo to sit next to her. He then commands his driver to set off.

Pelts and blankets and garnet silk brocade bolster-cushions line the seat opposite. He’s stuffed it with comforts for her. There’s a basket hamper of food and bottles of drink and a stack of leather bound books. She requires rest and sustenance. He seldom does. Not more than a handful of hours per night. But he’ll enjoy slumbering next to her.

Kylo shuts the door after himself. A gust of snow blooms with the force of it. Puffing into the velvet space. They are quite alone. And the carriage lurches off into that snowy dark midnight. Their new life together begins.

He greets her properly. Makes sure she’s snug in pelts and blankets and tips her face up to his by the chin to kiss her again. Her face pulls into an expression of agonised bliss. Tugs her closer closer closer.

Wraps his fingers around the back of one hip. Slithered his fingers between her coat and her dress.

He nudges her jaw out his way with a cheeky smile and shoved his nose into her hair to push it aside, nips and nibbles sucking teasing kisses down her neck that makes her shiver. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You’ve no idea how long I’ve been dying to kiss your soft neck.” He grumbles.

He sucks an open mouthed kiss over her pulse and she moans and pants his name. Fingers trapping into the blankets as she says his name like she’s chiding him. They can both feel the desire marching over every vertebrae of her spine.

She shivers. God that felt good. Made her weak. Made her eyes roll back.

“Oh kylo.” She moans. Her toes curl with the sheer raw power of his seductive kisses.

He finds her left hand on her lap and strokes the empty space on her fourth finger.

“Now. I think I had better make this elopement of ours authentic. Had I not?” He smirks. Reaching for his coat pocket.

Then he’s drawing something small out the shadow coloured wool. Her lips part in a smile when he snaps open a small blue velvet box. She’s blinded by diamonds and sapphires.

A cluster of them all crowning a gold band which is set with more gems. Two sapphires surround a large round diamond. Rounded and sparkling gems.

He’s watching her carefully - with a smug expression taking over him as he plucks the ring out its silken nest and slips off her glove slowly, then slots it up onto her finger. It glides on and sits perfectly. He lets her admire for a second. Before lifting the back of her hand to his lips.

“It’s too beautiful.” She comments. Amazed at it. He reaches for the curtain at the window and draws it back. Let’s the moonlight shimmer off the cluster of stones. Fractured light drips everywhere.

“Now that looks a worthy decoration to sit on that pretty kind hand.” He smiles. Before he frowns and turns her head towards him. A curl of copper and iron drifts into his nose.

“Dove. You’re bleeding...” He remarks. When he turns her face there’s paper thin red scratches swiped across her cheeks. She raises her hand to her skin and brings away a dribble of blood.

“I ran through the trees. I must have hurt my cheeks and not realised.”

“How could you not realise?” He asks her as he brings her finger to his mouth and naughtily, suavely puts that fingertip on his tongue and sucks off the blood. Curls his tongue around her taste to savour the way most men would appreciate a fine burgundy wine.

It makes something throb between her legs when he gets his lips on her. His eyes look like they could cut her with a look.

Her blood coating his tongue is too sweet for words. Sweet sweet bouquet. An agonising temptation that he only wants more of.

“I was smiling too much to notice.” She admits in a blush. Chewing on the inside of her lower lip.

He kisses at that blushing sore cheek. Pressing his lips to the barely bleeding cut. It should help soothe and close it. “That makes me insatiably glad to hear.” He smiles.

She searches for his hand and holds it. “I’m sorry I was late to meet you. I ran into my father as I was leaving.” She explains as he leans in to kiss her jaw again.

He pulls back and his face turns rather serious and stern. “He didn’t try and stop you?” He seeks.

“He could not stand to see me wed to such a loveless man as Hux. He gave me his blessing to wed you. I didn’t think I’d be walking away with that.” She tells.

He suspected there was a reason to Mr. Ashton’s silence. And now he knew; it was guilt. He’s glad to see she is loved from her fathers quarter. It soothes him.

“I’m glad you were able to make your peace with him.” He confesses. Holding her dear sweet little hand in his own massive grasp.

She looks up at him. At that handsome earnest face that is watching her so intently. So full of love and desire.

“As am I. But for now. Can I be terribly audacious and ask you to kiss me again?” She seeks with a grin.

She squealed nearly as Kylo tugs her tight into his lap. Folds her thighs over his. One hand covering her ribs under her dress. Fingers teasing under the swell of her breast. His smirking lips kiss and nibble under her jaw and she gasps in bliss.

“Thought you’d never ask...” He smirks and growls into the scorching heat of her neck. It tumbled right through her and she knows more desire is to come.

”And if you hadn’t? I’d have had to taste those pretty lips without your permission.” He sighs cheekily.

He swoops up and takes her mouth and she truly things she might burst into flames.

His silky tongue falls like cream running along her lower lip. She shivers at the sheer erotic desire of it. And this is only the start-

He’ll need to be careful. Or he’ll have kissed her lips raw by the time they reach Scotland.

~

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you for the tag!

5 Favorite Writing Bits - I’m just going to include some stuff from 2020. Because 2021 has been a lot of Astarion and Ferelith so far. So from oldest to newest, here we go!

1. WIP from Voices of the Fade - I swear I’m going to get to this one day. So help me. This is actually what made me want to write this series. It was the first thing I wrote for it. And it made me just incredibly heart broken.

There was something about the way the sunlight hit... She was naturally pale, so her ivory skin was glowing against her cheekbones. They defined the side of her face, giving the soft shape of her profile a hint sharpness. Her nose was so small. And so were her lips, despite how pouty the bottom one was. But it was the way the sunlight hit her face that made him stare in awe. When her eyes opened, he shifted hoping it was not his gaze that woke her. She blinked up at him as if in disbelief. He brushed a strand from the corner of her mouth as she came to.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Home," he answered.

The stone walls of the fortress were the color of dark sand. It kept the rooms cool from the scorching sun. The windows were thick and tinted, as well, preventing any sort of breeze from intruding. The smells of the Anderfels were not always pleasant. And the birds were always hungry. Nevertheless, the mountains were massive and a wonder to look at. Like green giants plastered against a forever grey wall. And Weishaupt was it's gem. A place of honor of protection. A place of fragrant foods and quiet murmurs. And a place where the clashing of swords and explosions of magic echoed through the grounds. It was everything he had imagined.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he heaved a happy sigh.

"Shame this isn't what really happened, though."

It was too confusing to mutter a response. Not that he could as a lump swelled in the depths of his throat. His mouth refused to open. And he watched as her face burned under the sunlight, a bright hot light that sizzled into ash, the same color as her hair. He reached out for her, his hands burning. It was too late.

2. From the first chapter of A Dame’s Tale (Claira Trevelyan’s origin story) - This was super personal for me. My mother was emotionally abusive and my dad was always working so he couldn’t always be there for me. And this was really just something I drew from that.

"Do proper ladies raise their hand?"

"No," the tears began to swell.

"Are you a proper lady, Claira?"

"Yes, Mother. I am," her voice cracked.

"I don't think you are."

"I promise I'll do better."

"You promised last time."

"Please, Mother, I promise. For real this time."

The tears were now little streams dripping down the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she wailed a plea for her mother's forgiveness. Her mother was silent, her eyes scanning over her youngest child as she stood sobbing in front of her. This little girl- her knuckles and cheek bruised, her lip bloodied, her dress torn with patches of dirt, her dark hair a tangled mess, and her face wet with tears- this was not the daughter she had prayed for.

"Go with your father. He'll take you to your room."

Claira struggled to catch her breath between cries and a warm hand on her shoulder didn't help. She let out the tears she had been holding back and she fought to keep her eyes open. Although blurry, she could see the back of her mother's dress swaying as she strode to the other side of the room to the balcony door. She did not see the rest as her father had reached down to clutch her hand.

3. Some super serious Aeva x Solas angst. I have feelings about eluvians. This is from Whispers in the Garden.

For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.

His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.

With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.

"Vhenan," he whispered.

The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.

"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.

He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.

"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.

Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.

"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."

4. So I did a thing where I combined Aeva’s fear of drowning with the fear of what she lost with Solas. And because she connects fear with anger, it all just combines into a huge mess of emotion. This was the first time I really was able to portray that. An expert from Chapter 7 of Strange Fates.

Aeva walked to edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves swelling beneath her. There was the strange feeling again. The fear of the nothing beyond the sea. It was a larger feeling than what she felt at the barge. It was like the all the other times... like the first time...

The first time she saw waves this large...

The first time she sat on the coast...

(memory) The rain came down heavy and she looked outside her tent. It wasn't letting up any time soon. She paced, rubbing her hands on her face. If she didn't act soon, the trail would grow cold and she would never find the Grey Wardens. The flap to her tent lifted without any announcement of arrival. And he stood, a look of concern on his face. He offered her a warm drink. They sat across from each other on her cot. He made her laugh. He took her hand, but it was for research. His fingertip traced in the inside of her palm. She snatched it back...

"Aeva?" Fenris jumped down from the wagon. "You're looking at the sea strangely again."

"Yes..." she shook her head. "Yes I am."

"Ferguson is setting up camp if you-"

There was a drifting silence between them as she brushed by. Her movements seemed slow and her eyes looked blank. Almost as if she were in some sort trance. It had been a long night. And upon further inspection, he could see spurts of blood across her armor. Still, for her not to respond at all was odd.

"... want to take some time to rest," he finished his sentence, watching the back of her disappear around the wagon.

The tents were nothing like she used when traveling with the Inquisition. These were much smaller. Large enough for a cot and maybe a table if you angled it correctly. Her tent was in the northernmost corner and the closest to the fire, which Ferguson had already prepared. It was still small and clinging onto the wood from the blowing wind, but he stoked it carefully so it did not catch flame to the pine needles below. Iris sat nearby peeling potatoes and whistling softly. They looked as Aeva came through, but said nothing.

The fear from the waves was not going away. And the more she thought about a way to be rid of it, the worse it got. Aeva did not handle fear well. It simmered in her chest, tightening her lungs and making her heart race. When it began to boil, she burst with rage. And she couldn't let that happen. Not in front of the camp. There was only one thing she could do. She reached into her pack, looking for a specific vial. And it was there bundled in the center of strange looking leaves. It was a black mixture with floating powder. In most cases, she would use it as a bomb to subdue her enemies. But mixed with the liquid, it became a sleep aid in small doses. She shook it up, causing it swirl slowly. The small cork made a small pop as she opened it. And with a wrinkled nose, she took one drink of it as if it were a shot of the strongest ale. There was a bit of a gag, but then she swallowed hard a second time to try and be rid of the taste. The cork went back into the vial, between the leaves, and bound with string once again before she placed it back in her pack. The affects were almost instant. And she barely had enough time to lay her head on the pillow. It was her escape... for a time...

5. THIS piece of dialogue from The Quiet Closet. I was so proud of this. It was the first piece of smut I not only wrote seriously but posted. And this dialogue to me is just... oof. Um NSFW by the way.

"You," she growled. "You make me weak."

"You like it," he whispered teasingly, his finger massaging her below.

"I hate it. I despise it. I despise you."

Asatrion laughed, slipping a second finger over her. She attempted to sink down again to feel his knee, but found his grasp on her wrists were far too tight. She looked up at them helpless, leaving her neck open for his taking. He caressed over it, licking it to taste her flesh and biting slightly over her throat, thoughts tempting his darker nature. But he had sworn it wouldn't happen again. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the circumstances, he would only take what she gave. Ferelith may have enjoyed losing control in that moment, but that didn't change her need to command other things. It seemed a bit odd to his taste, but all the same fascinating. And he wanted to explore it further.

"Tell me more," he demanded. "Tell me how much you hate me."

She dropped when he loosened his grips, her back relaxing down the wall. With a gentle nudge, his knee rose up to meet her and he felt her hips sway against him. He moved his fingers in motion, straightening them as she came in like a rolling tide.

"I hate how charming I find you," her eyes closed and her voice sound as if she were in a trance. "I hate that you make me laugh."

She inhaled quickly as he pressed harder into her core, her head hitting the wall as she reared back. He felt her body tighten and urged her forward with his knee.

"Go on," he said, baring witness to the moments of joy on her face.

"I hate the sound of your voice," she lowered her brow with concentration. "I hate how attracted I am to you."

The heat from her body was making him crave her, now, and he could feel himself growing excited at the quickness of her breath. Her spite made it all the better. The more anger she released, the stronger her movements became, and the longer his strokes became. It became difficult to hold onto her and her hands slipped through his grasp as he tried to ground himself, his hand slamming onto the wall.

"I hate this constant desire I have for you..."

Her hands dug into his hair, feeling the back of his skull. The sensation of her nails scratching against his scalp brought him closer. His hand skipped up the wall as he faltered for a moment, his face buried in her hair. The fragrance she gave was enticing, as it always was.

"... this desire to feel you. Next to me. Against me. Inside me..."

Slowly, her hands slid down to his shoulders. One remained, gripping tightly. While the other slithered up his neck, her fingers finding their grasp on either side of his face. He did not fight her pull to bring him to her gaze.

"Still... If I believe for one second you'll betray me..." she said through heavy pants, "I'll kill you."

And uh yeah... 2020 was a pretty productive year. I think I really got back into fanfiction and posting things and being more active here on Tumblr. And I’ve met some really cool people because of it. Now I’m dabbling in other fandoms and everyone has been so supportive and amazing. It’s just really wonderful. Thank you guys! And I look forward to reading more stuff from everyone.

[imagine-myhero]

Wicked

This is a request I got on my AO3 page: 

“hi can I request Vampire!Todoroki x Reader? where Todoroki saves reader from being burn alive at her village because she is accused of being a witch. thanks” from shinichishi.

Pairing: Vampire!Shouto x F!Reader

“Please, don’t do this!” You beg through hysterical tears as the people who once looked at you with kind smiles and warm eyes now forcefully drag you across the autumn dirt to the town center with frenzied, hateful expressions. You resist and struggle as much as you can, but you’re not nearly strong enough to break free. “I’m not a witch, I swear!” You insist, but all your pleading and screams fall on deaf ears.

“Don’t gaze upon her! You will fall under her wicked spell! Avert your eyes and ears, all of you!” A man cries out to the crowd who roars in agreement and anger. It’s the man who brought this terrible fate upon you, staring down at you with cold and cruel eyes. You fall limp in despair, tears running down your face without abandon.

How could this happen?

What have you done to deserve such a fate?

Soon, you see the mounds of dry straw and kindling surrounding a scorched wooden stake in front of the courthouse. Your blood chills and your heart sinks to your stomach. Fear, pure unadulterated fear courses through you and you dig your heels in the ground, crying out in desperation as you begin to struggle again.

“I beg of you, please! This is a mistake! Have mercy, God please have mercy…” Your screams break into whimpers as you struggle to catch your breath through your hysterical sobbing. A hand comes down to strike your cheek sharply. You yelp at the burning sting spreading across your face.

“Silence! Do not dare utter the Lord’s name you witch !” A minister of the church hisses venomously at you. They drag you to the stake and bind your hands around it with thick rope that digs into your skin while you try to free yourself. You stare in horror at the townspeople that are gathering around you, torches in hand and evil sneers on their faces.

You can’t believe this. They were so kind to you once; the baker gave you extra pastries he made in the mornings, the minister spoke comforting blessings when you crossed paths, and the wives taught you how to cook and knit in their free time. The looks of disgust and hate on their faces make them look like strangers to you. Strangers who are going to burn you alive for “practicing witchcraft”.

It isn’t your fault.

It isn’t fair.

Unable to bear the weight of their disdainful glares, you tilt your head to the starry sky. Tears trickle down your face steadily and drip down your chin onto the logs of wood beneath your feet.

You don’t want to die, and certainly not like this.

A torch lowers to ignite the kindling. You flinch and let out a wretched sob when the fire catches. The crowd cheers. You don’t want to scream, to satisfy their sick hunger to see you suffer, but you’re so terrified. You’re about to be burned alive.  The smell of smoke wafts toward you and the fire slowly grows, consuming the path of kindling and advancing steadily toward you. You push on your tiptoes and press as hard against the stake as you can to get even just an inch more distance between you and a slow, blistering death.

Another hideous cry erupts from the crowd, but this time it’s followed by a flurry of movement. Some of the glowing lights of their torches drop strangely and you hear people running and panicking. You can’t see very well past your tears and the thickening smoke, but you can tell the villagers are scrambling and shouting about something. You barely make out the town sheriff wobbling on his feet and clutching at his neck, where fresh blood flows over his fingers to smear across his skin and stain his clothes. He chokes out some words, but they’re lost in a gurgle. A large billow of smoke blocks your view and you cough violently when it invades your lungs.

When you open your eyes, they sting from the remains of the smoke, but you’re shocked to see that the sheriff had fallen face down onto the ignited kindling. You realize his collapse had caused the wave of smoke as his body smothered a portion of the flames, but the surviving flames are quick to take revenge on his flesh.

Your attention is torn from the dead man in front of you when you feel the restraints on your wrists disappear and your hands fall to your sides. You try to look back at what’s happened, but you’re suddenly lifted off the wood beneath your feet and into someone’s arms.

You stare up at the man holding you. His hair and eyes are both two different colors, giving him a striking appearance. A large scar covers an upper quadrant of his gentle face, drawing out the bright crystalline blue of the iris it surrounds. There is something so entrancing about him and the way he looks at you with such softness.

“Are you alright?” He asks you in a soothing velvety voice, and you see pointed fangs in his mouth as he speaks. Your heart skips a beat. Have you just escaped death only for it to greet you with different arms? “You took in a lot of smoke. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you sooner.”

You realize only then that the world around you is silent. You look to see you’re no longer in the town center with a crackling fire burning in the square or townspeople yelling in terror. You’re in a wooded clearing, in the arms of this man who has saved your life.

You stumble to find  your words as the man gently places you down on the cool dirt. How did you get here? How didn’t you notice? The man watches you stammer with a caring and patient expression. You feel your cheeks heat up at his demeanor that would almost come off as adoring if you didn’t know any better.

“I-I’m okay.” You squeak out, staring down at your soot covered dress. “Y-your—fangs…you um… you’re…” You trail. Surely you’re wrong, but the neck wound that killed the sheriff suddenly makes a little too much sense.

“A vampire.” He confirms quietly, as if he were trying not to frighten a mouse back into its hole.

You take in a shaky breath, and try your best to process this.

Your village was very superstitious, obviously, so you’ve been warned about the existence of creatures such as vampires, werewolves, and witches , but you always had your doubts. You certainly never expected to meet one in your lifetime, much less have one save your life.

Goodness. A vampire saving you from being burned alive for witchcraft.

Maybe you really are a witch.

“Do they frighten you?” He asks, showing off his  pair of pointed teeth again. He tilts his head slightly and a small frown mars his features, “Do I frighten you?”

“No.” Your mouth replies  before you can really think about your answer. Granted, the idea of vampires does frighten you as much as the next person, but this particular one... You feel foolish for saying so to such a dangerous being, but the truth is you aren’t scared for some reason. Foolish or not. You should be, you recognize that, but you just… aren’t. Not of him.

He appears pleased by your denial, and smiles in a way that has you blushing and smiling shyly yourself.

“Good.” He says warmly, reaching up to wipe away the ashes on your cheek. His hand is cool and it makes you feel better after being so close to blistering heat. “Now tell me. Why did they think you were a witch?”

At the memory, tears spring to your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them in. You’re safe now, you remind yourself. It’s okay. The man brushes an escaped tear from your face and caresses your cheek softly. “You don’t have to say if it hurts. It doesn’t matter now. You’re safe.” He seems to be reproachful of himself for asking. You don’t want him to feel bad, so you cover his hand with your own and lean into it reassuringly. You’re not sure why you feel so comfortable with him.

“A man asked me to… bed with him,” You tell him, averting your eyes in humiliation, “and I declined.”

He waits for you to continue. When you don’t, he gently pushes your face to look at him. “That’s all?” He asks. You nod, another tear falling as you give a small mirthless laugh.

“That’s all. He went straight to the courthouse and accused me of trying to seduce him into sin with witchcraft.”

The man’s face is solemn and his mouth is set in a disapproving thin line. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, my dear. I should have been quicker to find you. I was almost too late.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, and the self-resentment in his eyes confuses you even more. You were lucky to have been saved at all. He acts as if he had personal stakes in the matter, but you two have only just met.

“I didn’t thank you for saving me. I owe you my life.” You say quietly, watching him carefully. His gray and blue eyes shine humorously at your gratitude and he smiles affectionately at you.

“Oh darling, it is my life that is forever yours.” He answers. Your eyes go wide and you can only stare at him in total shock, mouth falling open in disbelief.  

“W-wha…?!” Your voice has left you. The man chuckles  and rests his hands comfortingly on your shoulders.

“My name is Shouto Todoroki.” He begins, and a strange feeling washes over you when you hear his name. It feels like deja vu. “That name probably doesn’t mean much to you now, but…” He pauses to choose his words, “We knew each other once in a past life. Quite well. I’ve been looking for you, princess.”

When he speaks the last word, you feel a strange sense of enlightenment. Fragments of memories come to your mind, none making very much sense, but all so familiar. You do recognize this man in front you. You don’t see, but you feel (or rather re-feel) the warm fireplace in a grand bedroom, sparkling palace ballrooms, a charming white horse and his handsome rider, the lonely prince…

It’s not your life. But… it was...once upon a time.

“Shouto…” You whisper, the name feeling not at all foreign on your tongue. Your eyes flutter open (you hadn’t realized you closed them) and it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. You notice even the shades of blue in his tunic give you an echoing sense of sentimentality. He is a stranger, but you know him deep within your heart.

Shouto has a look of pure elation at the sound of his name leaving your lips with such familiarity. “Considering your… sudden homelessness, why don’t you come with me? We can leave all of this behind us.” He urges, dipping his head down to brush your nose with his. You hope he’s too close to see the spreading blush on your cheeks.

You can’t help but chuckle a little at his wording and pretend it mull it over. Of course, you don’t really have much to think about— you have just been effectively removed from your home rather permanently and you do have this unnatural yet completely comfortable longing to stay with this man who you know so intimately and yet don’t know at all.

“Yes… I’d like that.” You hum absently, focused on Shouto’s beautifully delicate features and fresh wintry scent. His hands lift to cup either side of your face.

“May I?” He asks sweetly. You sound your approval and soon feel his soft lips press fervently into yours. A burst of emotions overwhelm you and you press yourself to Shouto’s firm body like he was the only thing grounding you to this world. The strange sense of long-awaited reunion fills your heart and for the first time, you feel like you’re home.

Shouto parts from you, gazing at you tenderly, and you simply bask in his surreal embrace. A moment later, you feel his lips softly brushing against the junction of your neck. You shudder slightly at the feather-light sensation of his loving kiss placed there.

“May I?” He asks again. You know what he means and you feel a little scared, but you trust Shouto so you nod, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. Shouto’s hand presses into your lower back and pushes you flush against him. He kisses your neck again and you tilt your head for him.

His fangs pierce your skin, and the world you once knew is gone without a single regret.

[katsukikitten]

End of Allmight

A/N lol yall I'm sorry. This wrote itself COLLEGE AU, SECOND YEAR, 18+

You relish the steam of your second scalding shower of the day. Trying to turn the handle further but to avail.

The knob threatens to rip itself from the piping with a groan causing you to stop.

"Fuck you too then." You hiss. Damning the day you've had thus far, praying it does not get worse.

Oh but does it get worse.

It all started this morning with your hero apprenticeship, sure in the end you snagged the villain.

But not before getting your ass handed to you first. Your bruises and cuts scream at the running water as you lather suds across them. Sure to remove any residual sludge from your calves and ankles.

Considering you were dumb enough to play into the trap the villain set up of immobilizing tar. The villain's final blow was intended for you but the hero you were shadowing took the hit full force.

Activating your brute rage to break free of your constraint, snatching the villain in under ten seconds.

You scrub harder as you damn yourself for not acting sooner.

And to top it all off you had gotten into a huge fight with your crush.

A fight that had earned you both a few weeks of house arrest.

Bakugou was in a sour mood when you got home, somehow more sour than you as he shoved you out of the way of the fridge with no remorse.

Usually you could tolerate and hell even understand his crass nature but today was not the fucking day.

You grab onto the fridge door that he is holding with a death grip and slam it shut. Now the only sound in the once loud kitchen of young adults was the rattling of glass.

"What the FUCK is your problem?!" Your voice breaking the deafening silence, "Didn't you fucking see me there?"

He doesn't answer, instead he stares at his distorted reflection in the stainless steel door with a harsh grimace. Kissable lips pulled ever south. His lack of response sets you off faster than the explosions skittering down his spine.

"Oh so you're fucking deaf now too huh?" All of the day's agitation finding a dangerous outlet as you pull your fist back. "Well hear this, cuck."

Your fist connects with his solid jaw as he makes no effort to move. He slides halfway across the kitchen before he turns to face you.

Spitting blood onto innocent counter tops as a bruise develops like a negative slide on his jaw as he lunges.

Much too quickly for you as its powered by his quirk sending you through the kitchen wall, aggravating your wounds.

You break free of his grip, swinging hard but he snatches your fist, holding you still as the skin of his left fist hisses.

A hiss that crescendos much like the kettle on the stove and your nostrils are filled with that all too familiar scent of burning sugar. You snarl using his grip to your advantage as you twist your body, bringing with it your left foot connecting hard in the already blossomed bruise.

He spits crimson again, flashing you his bloodied teeth with a manic, malice filled smile, he tilts his head adding to the effect of intimidation.

Though it is lost on your now.

"You're fucking dead." He growls with his smile as he lunges for you.

"Shit! Someone get Eji!" Denki shouts from the gaping hole, "LIKE NOW!"

Not that Kirishima could stop the two of you with force per say but he was damn good with words.

The two of you exchange punch after breath stealing punch, that seem to break the sound barrier. Decorating the other with their built up frustrations that were overly due to be released.

You pin him and he stares up at you with heated blood red eyes something flashes in them that makes you hesitate before he flips you faster than you can blink.

He slams your shoulders against the ground again for extra measure, his ash blonde hair almost falling over his eyes.

Eyes that no longer have explosive rage, eyes that look more like dull pennies in a wishing well that was long forgotten.

You reach up tenderly, seeing the pain buried so deep, to slide your thumb across his cheek. Lips parted to ask if he is alright as his iris seems to blur.

But it never comes.

"Bakugou! Y/N!" Kiri rushes forward half dressed with a worried Mina staring out of the hole of the dorm.

"What's happening?" He places his hand onto Bakugou's shoulder breaking the spell.

The rage floods back into his eyes as he bucks Kirishima's hand off of him. Standing quickly.

"Nothing is fucking wrong. Just a dumb ass extra was in my way." He muscles past his friend adding to his venom his signature tsk

You clench your jaw replaying it all in your head over and over.

Hyper fixated on the memory of his eyes looking down on you, with what you could have sworn were growing tears.

Something bangs against the wall causing your toiletries to rattle on the tiled shelf pulling you back into the present.

Once, twice, three times before shards of tile are scattered at your feet littering the floor with even more bad luck.

All followed by a deep grunt and your mind instantly thinks of Mina's little comment from the last girls night.

"Uugghhh ladies I'm telling you shower sex with Kiri is the best. He hits me agaisnt the titles soooooo hard. Aaaahhh"

Furiously you snap the water off wrapping yourself in nothing but a towel and deep seeded rage.

The towel threatens to expose your tits but you readjust and make an inappropriate dress out of white cotton as you stomp to the entrance of the next set of showers.

Rare tears threaten to drip onto his cheeks. He let's out labored and heavy breaths as his mind races. Staring at the blue screen illuminating the darkness of the bathrooms. The title of the article that just happens to be trending even years later.

*"End of Allmight?"*

He did this.

He caused the downfall of one of the greatest heroes of all time and all because he was too weak to save himself.

He snaps his phone in half, the innerworkings splinter into the air dusting the floor before he sends the pieces into the wall where the phone some how obliterates further.

He huffs as he reaches over his head pulling his shirt from him in a heated rage. Bruises flower over his ribs, sternum and any other place your powerful fist happened to land.

And all he can think about is how close you had made him break.

All with your delicate hand reaching out to comfort him over something he didn't even know he was still feeling.

That was until now.

Steam fills the bathroom but he does not undress further, leaving his sculpted body in nothing but a pair of black boxers as he paces the room like a caged animal.

He will do anything to chase away the threat of his tears, fists itching to destroy again despite what it may cost him.

He punches the cool tiles, once, twice, three times before he cracks the titles, fist sliced from the shards of porcelain as blood trickles over his finger. He pulls at the fabric of his boxers freeing himself as he stands under the steaming stream of water.

He slams his fist again, letting out another grunt letting the water wash over his sore, tired muscles.

The tears threaten again.

"Oi!" You call out into the bathroom, entering with out a care that you could witness something you cannot be unseen, "What the fuck are you...."

But your question dies in your throat as you see Katsuki looking over his Godly shoulder with those eyes again.

Dull, worn brick instead of burning hot scarlet.

The world seems to fade away with your anger as you approach despite the narrowing of his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing in the men's showers?" It should come out as a dark growl but his voice threatens to break at the end. If you weren't ignorant to the situation before you sure as hell were now.

You'd never heard his voice falter and so you got closer.

So close you were getting splashed by the spray hitting his reddening skin from the heat.

You press your hand to his opposite cheek, sure to be gentle with the bruise as you turn him to face you. His eyes well with unshed tears.

Tears he has never allowed himself the luxury of.

"Katuski." You say so painfully, as if your heart were breaking in two at the mere sight of him.

And it was.

Breaking over the fact that you let this go so unnoticed after you thought his fight with Deku eased his pain.

In your heart of hearts you knew better. You saw the small signs build up over the last few years but turned a blind eye with every nasty comment you knew he did not mean.

With every harsh glare or shove he sent someone's way.

But mostly it broke over the fact that there wasn't a soul he could confide the vulnerability of his tears in.

Not even himself.

He studies you with quickly blurring eyes, practically hearing the snap in your chest as you reach out to him.

Damn you for using his first name, damn you for using that tone.

Please Kamisama use your knife of a tongue on him again.

Like you had in the kitchen, like you had just a few moments ago.

But Bakugou Katsuki's prayers go unanswered.

Your own set of tears begin to swim in your mesmerizing eyes, a tear catching in your lashes as you blink furiously, voice almost shaking as you speak.

"I..I'm here." And your fingers squeeze so softly and the pad of your thumb swipes so gently that all he can do is damn you.

Damn you as you send him over the edge in the opposite direction of what he's always imagined for you two as his tears slip down his cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you feel his deadly fingers crush blood vessels. He pulls you into the stream of hot water as he buries his face into your hair and throat.

He cannot stop himself as hard as he tries as the sobs rack through his body.

Shaking as he grips tighter onto you, clinging to his last visage of normalcy he thought he had.

Your arms wrap around him, one hand soothing his drenched hair while the other feathers over his shoulders and spin. All the while you whisper.

"I'm here Katsuki. I'm here."

After a few moments he let's out a shaking sigh.

"I did it." His lips move against your throat, "I...I ended All Might."

"What? No..."

"I did." He snarls through gritted teeth, lips still moving agaisnt flushed skin, "I was too stupid!! Too weak....too weak to do anything but get captured by a band of fucking fools."

A few stray tears leave his intense eyes as they meld into the stream of hot water trailing over your skin.

"You did no such thing." There was your tongue that could cut, "You were not weak. You held your fucking own, got out of restraints on your own, stood up to those dumb asses on your own. And escaped with a little encouragement from your friends."

You take in a deep breath and he knows you're about to go into a full on rant, he cannot help the smile that makes it's way onto his lips.

A smile he has not allowed himself to have for quite sometime.

"Bakugou Katsuki is far from the definition of weak. Sure asshole is what the dictionary would read, dick head even but not weak. You've defeated countless villains after surprise attacks on campus. Encouraged your peers through your gruff, arrogant yet determined ways. Helped a friend who struggled with his exams and hell even embodied some confidence in him because you believed in him to do his very best and you wouldn't allow him to think anything less. You should be doing the same to your God damn self! " You let out a shaky breath, " What happened to All Might was inevitable. A move was made on him long before we even got to UA. Hell you probably, even though I'm sure you despise the thought, your fight with Deku had developed both of you. Hopefully for the better."

Katsuki growls against your skin.

"But you have to allow yourself to cry in order not to break. Tears are not weakness. They are a sign that you feel and that you acknowledge how you feel, Katsuki." You squeeze him and he sighs.

You're right, he knows this. He does.

But damn does he hate being wrong.

He hesitates to let go of you, considering how you feel like a piece of heaven, especially after sharing that burden with you.

Your comfort was needed but the situation you two were in, one of you fully naked while the other was in a soaked towel that struggled to fit your thick frame looked...well it looked kinda bad.

And now that Katuski was feeling better he was going to do what he knew how to do best.

Tease you.

"Oi." He says pulling away, sweeping back his soaked ash blonde hair from his eyes, causing you to swallow hot desire. He notices and does it once more before leaning in close.

"If you wanted to see me naked Y/N." All you had to do was ask. You blush as you take in the sight of him before turning away just as your eyes hit the sculpted V pointing you towards your undoing. You swallow as your face, body, and even your core begin to heat.

"I uh..." You stammer and he smiles like a cat stalking prey.

"Speak up, kitten." You blush furious that he knows your weakness.

"How did you.." His smile turns deadlier.

"You know that loud mouth Mina has been trying to get me to date you since you transferred." He studies you for a moment, eyes trialing over the towel that struggles to keep your figure contained, "She told me you like pet names, Princess."

Your eyes snap to him helplessly and he chuckles.

"I thought that was a lie but I see that it's not. Well since you've seen me cry might as well show you how you make me feel." He says cruelly before slamming you against the cool tile by your throat, careful to avoid the exposed shards. He takes in your gasp, can feel your pulse quicken in his fingers, knowing full well you have the capability to overpower him and when you don't...

He devours you. Your lips belong to him to which you gladly devote, as he kisses you with a fervor. Ripping the pitiful sopping towel from your flushed frame as he presses himself against you. He nips your lips and you moan into his mouth as he all but forces his tongue onto yours.

He pulls away abruptly, to study, to give you the time to process his actions.

When you return his gaze with labored breaths and eyes half mast filled to the brim with lust, tears long forgotten he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. Squeezing your biceps.

"Thank you." He says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips, "Thank you."

"A...anytime Katsuki." You offer softly voice almost lost to his passion as you caress his forearms. He smiles devilishly one more before whispering in your ear with deadly huskiness in his voice.

"Let's make Mina regret telling you how great shower sex is, my little kitten."

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us : Chapter 7

7. The parts we play

Previous Chapter : Here 

“I just don’t get it.” Troy huffed taking a drag of a blunt as he sat at a grungy table in the engineering garage. His hefty prosthetic arm resting on the table it’s forearm panel open as Lydia diligently looked over the circuitry and mechanics inside. 

“Don’t get what?” She asked as she worked. It was commonplace for Troy to rant about the things that were frustrating him while he was getting his arm serviced and the engineering team were all well equipped to deal with their gods problems, after all they were his loyal children. Tyreen might be the favored of the cult at large but here in the garage everyone preferred Troy. 

“Why I feel like this, I don’t really know what to call the feeling either. I’m not sick...at least I don’t think I am.” He sighed, he knew what being sick felt like and this was something different entirely. It felt like his heart was being held in a fist that was tightening ever so slowly, that his head was swimming in a sea where all he could think about was one singular thing; the new siren. 

Lydia let him talk as she continued prodding at various components in his arm and testing their reactivity then loosened a few wires. “That feel any better, boss?” 

Troy stopped his rambling and rolled his shoulder back letting the weight of the arm rest on his shoulder plate.  A hiss of pain exited his lips as the shoulder plate dug back into the already bruised ribs beneath it, the reason for his coming down here in the first place. 

“Nope! That’s not it.” The arm thudded back onto the table which creaked under the sudden weight. He chewed his lip as a distraction from the protesting soreness in his already delicate damaged side. It was just his luck this was all piling up on him like this, the strange feelings, his arm not cooperating, Tyreen increasing his work load. He never could catch a break could he?  

“Not since the day Ty and I were born.” He thought, taking another drag hoping it would take the edge off his soreness. 

“You ought to be checking the counterweight Lyd.” A gruff voice came from behind the male siren and Tink dressed in welders gear hopped up onto the table. “The plate’s not shifting down far enough to be caught by his implant so it’s not shouldering the weight the way it should.” 

“You wanna take it over from here then Hephaestus?” Lydia asked. “I can head out if you two just wanna you know, have guy talk?” 

“Yeah leave it to me, I think I got the solution for our boss’s head problems too.” He said with a smirk that made Troy squirm a little, he didn’t handle confidence in other men well and it seemed that extended to his mechanic as well.  He tried to put it behind him, after all these were his inner circle members; people he could and did  trust with his life. 

“ So what do you think is wrong then Heph?” Troy leaned back in the chair staring up at the sheet metal ceiling and wondered how many bolts he could count before he got bored of it. 

“Told ya, your counterweight is screwy…Oh! You mean the other thing.” The Tink snorted, of all the smarts the man made god that sat before him possessed, he sure didn’t know anything about his feelings.  

Troy leaned forward again, his hair falling in front of his eyes yet the icy blue glare was still just as effective. “Yes the other thing. Jeez.” 

“Alright, alright don’t go bearing those fangs at me Troy. So this feeling you get, does anything in particular trigger it?  Are you walking out to do whatever bullshit you're up to when you ain’t here and seeing a particular person that gets you all dizzy? does this certain person cross your path and you just feel like you don’t know why the planet's gravity turned off for you alone?” Hephaestus didn’t look up from Troy’s arm as he talked gingerly tucking wires out the way to get to the forearm counterweight.  Troy seemed to handle things better when he wasn’t being talked to directly, something about making it seem like he was still in complete control of the situation kept him docile enough to ask hard questions. 

“Uh..ye..yeah that’s it exactly. But it doesn’t make any sense does it?” Troy huffed annoyed at himself “After all-”

“Lydia didn’t give herself that bite mark, nor did half the people here. I know, and I know if I  were a few feet taller I’d likely have one myself. But there’s a big difference between your little flings and what you’re feeling right now Troy.” 

“Then what is it? I don’t understand.” Troy ground the butt of his blunt into the table flicking it and the pile of ash it left onto the floor. 

“I know you don’t, and that’s why you’re angry, but I want you to think long and hard about this Troy. What makes this person different from any of your little flings? No one can answer that but you and you’d better figure it out before you go hurting them and yourself and everyone else around you because you couldn’t figure it out.” Hephaestus knew he was treading dangerous ground; Troy’s temper was nothing to play with but it was clear to everyone close to the male twin that he lacked a level of emotional maturity that, if he did not figure out for himself would continue to destroy every close relationship he tried to have. 

“Why can’t you just tell me? Clearly you’ve got it all worked out.” 

“If I tell you, you won’t learn anything and that’s the real hang up here. You think you’ve got it all figured out and because of that this new situation’s got you all confused. So all I can tell you for now is think long and hard about what’s different and only then will you understand why you’re feeling this way.” Hephaestus finally looked up from his work on Troy’s arm in time to catch him rolling his eyes in annoyance, he would get it in time. 

“Anyway, your counterweight was all tangled up with leaves’n’shit.” He said, pulling the aforementioned clump of vegetation onto a pile on the table. “Gimme a minute and I can get it recalibrated.” 

Troy stared at vegetation, his lip curling slightly, all of this led back to Eden-4. It just didn’t make sense, ever since he’d fed on Sloane everything had been so strange.  He liked the idea of not being so reliant on Tyreen and there had been something soothing about the energy he’d taken from the nature siren. But he didn’t want to harm her, when she had fainted in his arms he had felt genuine concern that he had harmed her irreparably and that had scared him on a level he hadn’t felt since the day Tyreen killed their mother.  

It hadn’t been until that moment that he understood the look of sadness that his sister wore after feeding sometimes. He had thought that she relished in taking the life from those less important than her to feed the ever growing image of a Goddess. 

He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of the panel being closed up, looking down at the table to see Hephaestus watching him expectantly. “Well give it a try.” 

“Oh right.” He pulled the arm off the table more gingerly this time cautious of if it was really fixed. It sat back in position at his side with little protest of his sore ribs and he sighed in relief. “Much better. Thanks I guess I owe you one.”  

The tink shook his head. “Just doin’ my job Troy. You just go back up to your place and get that thing off while those bruises heal. And tell your big mouthed sister to lay off for a couple days why don’t you?” 

“She’s not gonna like that.” Troy hazarded though a few days to rest and figure things out without Tyreen jumping down his throat sounded like exactly what he needed.

“Does she ever? Doesn’t change the fact you’re not her workhorse. Now get outta here and don’t let us see you for a bit.” Hephaestus teased  and shooed the male siren away. 

Lydia approached him as Troy made his exit and quirked a brow noting that there had been a distinct lack of yelling which she had not expected. “Your talk went well then?” 

“Yeah, I gotta let Iris know I owe her fifty bucks though.”  Heph said with an amused snort.

“What? Why?” 

“Made a bet with her a while back, told her I didn’t think that  angry boy there had it in him to truly love anyone. She disagreed. Didn’t think I’d ever actually have to pay up, but, here we are.” 

—-

“You cannot be acting like this, you need to settle down.” Tyreen hissed. The God-Queen grabbing an errant vine that had erupted from the ivy plant she kept in her room, the plant shriveling as she leeched it back into submission. 

She could understand the other siren being a little upset about the things that had occurred the night prior but lashing out was unacceptable behaviour for anyone with powers like theirs, Sloane might not be able to husk anyone but she sure could if her emotions got out of hand . With the plant taken care of there was little threat for the both of them and Tyreen while still keeping her distance folded her hands in front of her to show she wasn’t going to lash out in kind. 

“Are you feeling calmer now or do I need to have Mouthpiece put you in time out?” She asked. 

“Yes, fine,whatever,I'm good. How about you start explaining what the fuck went on last night.” Sloane asked huffing through her nose, she had not planned for things to be aggressive but her powers had other ideas when she had originally started this conversation.  

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this.” Tyreen started, sounding equally annoyed. To her none of this was worth getting upset about. 

“You don’t? Really? Tyreen your brother did something to me and I don’t know what he starts freaking out I start freaking out , then the next thing I know I’m in the fucking hospital and you don’t think that that’s a big deal?” Sloane exclaimed honestly not sure what even to say at this point. 

“Fine alright maybe it’s kinda a big deal. You might want to have a seat, I don’t know how long this’ll take to explain so we might as well get comfy. I’ll grab drinks you want alcohol ooorrr?” 

“I’ll just have a soda Tyreen.” Sloane gave an exasperated sigh before walking over to the couch and sitting down. A million thoughts were swirling in her mind, why was Tyreen so chill about this like it was normal, even if it was normal  for her surely she must understand that not everyone would think that. She was brought out of her whirlwind of thoughts as Tyreen placed the soda can on the table in front of her before taking a seat in the arm chair. 

Tyreen popped the top of her own drink, a beer and took a sip before she sighed again. “So we lied, well kind of. Troy is a siren, but he’s also not a siren, confusing  I know just stay with me here alright? Our dad always called him freak, a parasite, he said he was a broken siren that shouldn’t even exist. He told us that if anyone knew Troy was a siren they’d take him away and study him, I mean he told us a lot of things about the world outside that wasn’t true but I don’t doubt that that was the one thing that was.” 

“Wait wait, I’m lost already, what do you mean your dad lied to you?”  Sloane tilted her head in confusion, the twins in the time they had been together had barely talked about where they came from and she had never pried despite her curiosity. 

“Our father raised us in a cage, he told us the rest of the universe was full of bandits and corporations that would tear us apart. When we got out we saw he was right, but he never accounted for the fact that we would tear them apart first. But that’s not what matters, this isn’t entirely my story to tell so when you do see Troy again you’ll have to coax the rest out of him. The important part is, Troy’s sick, he always has been. He needs a real siren like me to feed him energy or else...well he withers away. I don’t have the time to babysit him constantly with the Children of the vault expanding at an exponential rate, I can’t always stop what I’m doing or even be on the same planet as he is.  So when we realized we were going to be near another siren we thought…” 

“You thought that it would be ok to just grab another siren and not tell me the truth. That you just wanted to use me?” Sloane asked, her voice pitched up as she put the pieces together. 

“Not exactly…” Tyreen started. “We were going to tell you, but Troy instead of topping off on me decided to let his reserves run low and test it himself. If it had been up to me I would have sat you down with the rest of the inner circle and explained the part you’d play.”  

“They all know?!” 

“Of course they all know, I don’t take anyone into the circle  without first consulting with the others. The circle is a system of give and take, we all have things to offer each other and while Troy and I sit at the top of it all we still give back to the rest. And to be fair, serving Troy isn’t the only thing we wanted you for, you’ve seen the Cathedral garden and the garden on the Centurion, we have another one as well we’ll be visiting soon. Your siren abilities are perfect for maintaining them and we’ve been looking for a caretaker for awhile.” 

Sloane swallowed, unsure of what to think about all this. She knew the twins hadn’t taken her in on pure altruism alone and that she would have to earn her keep among them; she hadn’t expected this. She hardly knew anything about them save for the facets they allowed people to know and just like that this conversation had shattered the public facing facade. 

They weren’t perfect, they weren’t the righteous gods they hoped to become. They were people, broken scared people who had been raised in some sort of backwards way, told that the world outside of their bubble was dangerous and against them. Who wouldn’t want to rise above that, to remake a better world as a god. It all made sense now and the realization that the people who seemed to have the universe under their fingers were just as deeply flawed as anyone else was comforting. They weren’t the wolves that she thought they were, they were just as scared and frightened as she was, they just knew how to spin that fear into power. 

Now with Tyreen’s sins laid bare she couldn’t bring herself to feel the anger she had when she’d walked into the room. There was still a touch of fear that she couldn’t shake at this moment though, she still needed to process everything she had just learned. She couldn’t string together the words to explain what she was feeling she needed time to think about what she wanted to say. 

“I… I’m not angry anymore but I need some time to think, Tyreen. I’m gonna go take a walk around the Cathedral, yes I’ll bring a priest for safety don’t worry. I think I might go spend the night with Iris though, just to have some thinking time.” She said and hoped Tyreen would allow her to leave without much fuss. 

“That’s fair, I'll give you the time to collect your thoughts.” Tyreen sat back in the armchair watching Sloane rise and leave. When the door clicked shut she crushed the now empty beer can in her hand and chucked it at the wall. 

“You’re so fucking stupid Tyreen!” She berated herself. “Of course laying out you stupid sob story wasn’t going to just magically fix everything and have everything go back to normal. So fucking stupid.” She picked up her echophone with the same amount of fury and double checked the time of her afternoon appointment with the marketing heads. Enough time to let her feelings out. 

“You shouldn’t deny yourself these feelings.” A familiar voice that was not her own spoke up in her head. Nyriad, the siren that had wielded her powers before her waking to share her wisdom as she often did when Tyreen was upset. 

“I don’t even know why I’m upset though, she’s not obligated to thank me or even understand me.” Tyreen snorted. 

“Perhaps you should reflect on why she makes you feel this way. I know you long for another to be as close to you as your brother. Do you know what that feeling is called Tyreen?” 

Tyreen was admittedly stumped at first but the longer she thought on Nyriad’s words and her own thoughts and feelings it all started to fall into place. The truth she always knew she’d inevitably have to face and how she would have to decide if she would act on it or continue to keep buried like everything else she was afraid of. 

[moonxpalace]

I colored some quick sketches of Oliver before he sets out on his journey (Thank you jerseyk112 for the name suggestion!!!)

- They used to live in Unova before moving to Pallet Town when Oliver was around 2 - 3 years old. Ash and Iris wanted their Pokemon + Oliver to grow up in a rural area where they could play and roam freely in a large garden - far away from the annoying paparazzi. As a huge bonus Delia lives right across the street. When Ash or Iris have to travel because of champion business, Delia will happily take care of Oliver. This way Oliver became very close to his grandma. He will happily help her with cooking, gardening and take care of all the pokemon

- Speaking of pokemon - when he was only a couple of months old he was quite fascinated of Iris’ Dragonite. Dragonite, proud and powerful, is skeptical towards this soft, tiny human and tries to stay out of its way. When Oliver learns to crawl he would happily follow Dragonite, much to his dismay. Even if he growls at Oliver, Oliver will just laugh. Dragonite will never admit it, but he soon learns to like Oliver’s company.

- Whenever Iris or Ash have an important battle ahead of them, Oliver adopts Iris’ habit of painting his face, dressing up and dragging along drums to the stadium to cheer his parents on. Iris thinks its the most adorable thing! He grows out of this phase later on, though, and gets embarrassed whenever his parents brings this old habit up.

- Oliver sleeps like a rock. When he was a baby people would tell Ash and Iris how lucky they were for being able to sleep through the night. Later on, during his journeys, it causes Oliver a hassle though, because he keeps sleeping through his alarms.

- Oliver HATES to be compared to his parents who both became champions at a young age. Thankfully Iris and Ash quickly became aware of this problem, but they can’t always shield him from such comments...

- Oliver has a rivalry with Gary Oak’s son, Bryan. Ash was super happy that Oliver would have someone the same age to play with when they moved to Pallet Town, but, it was hate at first sight :P Aside from Bryan, Oliver usually gets along well with other kids.

- Although neither his parents can really cook, he has picked up a few tricks from Delia. He is FAR from a gourmet-cook, though!

- He adores his uncle Pika. Ash usually asks Pikachu to look after Oliver whenever he leaps off to play in the forest/ meadows.

- Nags his parents for a little brother. Realizes later on that he should have appreciated his time as an only child more when he gets a little sister lol.

- Ash and Iris hint that they want him to get a Dragon-type/ Kanto-starter as Oliver’s first pokemon. Oliver ends up with an Sneasel, much to Ash’s amusement and Iris’ fright

[shipersanonymous]

The One They Left Behind

Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: None of this is based on actual Greek mythology, Just the names were used.

I'm sorry this has taken this long. And we (myself and my lovely co-author @annacarina2​) really hope you enjoy it!

Cliffhanger warnings apply😘

XOXO

P. S. The nursery scene referred to is the 1st half of the prologue. 😘

Prologue

Chapter 1

“Barry! Time for bed!” Nora announces as she comes into the living room from the kitchen, only to find that the area is deserted. She hears the thump-thump of little footsteps above her and chuckles to herself as she carries the glass of warm milk up to her son’s room.

“Barry.” She sings out as she pushes open the door and finds his smiling face, bright and green eyed, eagerly waiting for her.

“Well would you look at that, you’ve already picked out a bedtime story,” she remarks, noting the book clasped in his little hands. He nods with excitement and holds it up for her to see the cover.

Sons of Zeus

“Are you sure you want to read this one again tonight?” Nora asks sceptically as her son’s obsession with the Supernatural past makes her a little uneasy. Barry nods in confirmation.

“Can we? please?” he asks so sweetly that she can’t help but smile.

“Of course my beautiful boy.” She answers setting the milk down on the bedside table and taking the book from him. Nora settles down beside her son and Barry rests his head on her chest as she wraps her arms around him and begins to read…

Once upon a time

In a land beyond the clouds.

There lived a mighty God by the name of Zeus. His power surpassed that of any other and this, when combined with his great inclination for leadership and kind heart granted him the title of ruler of the realm of light. His power resided in the deadly brilliance of lightning, a gift he generously shared with his two sons:

Achilles and Apollo.

Along with his radiant and brave queen, Iris, Zeus did his best to bestow upon his children the virtues of love, kindness, humility and courage but this was a task that proved challenging even for the most powerful of Gods.

You see, mere days before his brother’s birth, Achilles found himself entranced by the sharp tongue of an elderly sorceress who drew him out with a promise of adventure. It was there, in the vast blue, with the son completing its journey around the earth beneath them, that this vixen of the unknown soiled the naïve soul’s mind with hateful notions. Insinuations that his mother’s love could not be shared, that his brother would be the end of his family.

Her words were tainted with a thirst for revenge that poor Achilles, young as he was, could not as yet point out and with an innocence common to one so green, he fell for her every word. His little heart was consumed by a fear of loss and upon his brother’s arrival the damage had been done and the seed of hatred nestled warmly within his tiny heart…

Nora looked down at a softly snoring Barry and smiled, relieved that she would not have to re-read the dreadful nursery scene to her ten year old son. Truthfully she didn’t want to have to relive that horror. As gently as she possibly could, she lifted herself off of the bed and tucked him in, giving him a soft kiss goodnight before turning on his night light. With a final look back she turned the rooms light off and left the door ajar behind her. As she reached the bottom of the stairs the front door opened and in walked her husband.

Well, a part of him anyway.

Henry smiled at her though his eyes betrayed his exhaustion and Nora reached for his brief case as she leaned in for a ‘welcome home’ kiss.

“Long day?” she asked as he took her empty hand in his and let her lead him to the living room.

“The longest.” He admitted and brought their hands up to his lips to kiss the back of hers.

“How’s our little slugger?” he asked, nodding in the general direction of the stairs.

“Fast asleep. I just put him down.” She smiled as she let go of his hand and walked to the dining room table to put his briefcase down on one of the chairs. She knew her husband well and tired or not he’d be staying up a little later, after the street completely quieted down and the neighbors were all asleep, to do some work. A lawyer’s job is just never done.

“I’ll go say goodnight,” he answered with a tone that was both soft from exhaustion and energised with his love for his son. Nora offered him, her usual heart-warming smile as a ‘go ahead’ before he made his way to the stairs. A few seconds later a thump rang in her ears followed by her husbands muffled cry of agony.

“Henry?” she questioned as she rounded the wall to see her husband bent over, one hand on the railing to hold him up and the other clutching his heart. She knew instantly that something was terribly wrong.    

“Honey? Speak to me honey what’s going on?”

Her urgency was met with harsh breathing. His eyes widened as the wheezing grew louder. Then suddenly…

It stopped.

Henry stilled in her arms and the light of life vanished from his panicked eyes, frozen open in death. Nora felt the blood in her veins run cold and her mind began to buzz as adrenaline flooded her system.

He can’t be dead. Not unless….

Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as realisation kicked in and without a second breath she abandoned Henry’s lifeless body and took the stairs two at a time.

“Barry!” She yelled, desperate to wake her son but just as she reached his door she froze, her body overwhelmed by an unknown force. She felt herself burning from the inside out and yelled out in pain.

“Mom!” came Barry’s frightened cry and through her misty eyes she could see his little face stained with fearful tears. A loud ringing echoed in her ears and her head began to pound violently. Nora braced herself against the door frame, shutting her eyes against the sudden wave of pain that flooded her body. She wanted to yell. To tell Barry to run, but she could barely breathe, let alone string together a sentence.

She felt her body give in.

She felt her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She felt her body hit the ground.

She felt her soul depart.

She opened her eyes and she was Nora no more.

She had returned to her true form. The form that was all powerful.

The form that bore the name:

Iris.

Her long hair, like threaded sunlight, rolled down her back to her waist. Her cloud like skin, soft and pail, seemed to glisten as if coated with the finest layer of glitter. The white dress, resembling ancient Greek attire, seemed to melt into the mist that floated lightly above the clouds that she called home.

But home it was far from.

Around her a show of lightning took place. Concealing the normally clear and infinite blue was a chaotic painting of bolts, lightning bolts, zipping about in all manner of directions. And in the middle of it all stood her eldest son, hovering over the quickly fading body of her husband.

Iris covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, muffling out her cry as the last remnants of the all mighty Zeus dissolved into a string of sparks that swirled into the air, disappearing soon after like ashes scattered in the wind.

She felt the last of his essence soak into her, feeding her all his power, every last drop.

And then he was gone.

Zeus was no more.

He lives on. In me!

She thought to herself, her eyes now focusing on the back she rubbed so gently in an attempt to ease the growing pains.

“What have you done?” She asked, her voice soft with disbelief. He didn’t stir.

“Achilles! What have you done!” She screamed, a thunderous noise that echoed out into the distance. Her son turned around to face her and she realised in that instant that, that was not Achilles. His eyes glowed a gut twisting red, like laser beams on a snipers rifle, aimed for the kill.

“Achilles?” her motherly heart called out, clinging to the hope that he might still be within reach, but his stare remained. Cold and fixed. His features were un-moving, set on an expression of pure malice. Of evil. Though her power granted her the luxury of fearlessness her heart still trembled out of love for her youngest son.

“Mommy!” Barry’s cry rose to them and she knew that Achilles had heard it too when his lips contorted into a devilish grin. A bolt of lighting fell, striking him where he stood, and just like that he vanished.

But she knew where he was going.

With all the strength she had, she compressed her abilities as much as she could, folding into herself until her aura was weak enough to inhabit a mortal body. Iris returned to her human form, taking a loud, deep breath once she resurfaced as Nora with Barry’s teary face buried in her chest.

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s OK. I’m here. I’m here.” She tried to calm him down as his sobs shook his entire body. Her head pounded with a raging migraine and she knew that she couldn’t stay in this form much longer. She had to get Barry somewhere safe.

“Barry baby listen to me.” She said with a gentle sternness as she wiped the tears from his cheeks and cupped his face.

“Listen to me we need to get out of here OK? Mommy doesn’t have time to explain right now but I need you to hold my hand and run OK? Don’t look back and don’t stop for any reason alright baby?” She asked and he nodded in her hands. Nora planted a quick kiss on his forehead then stood up and took hold of his hand.

“Alright. Come on.” She said as she took off towards the stairs, dashing down as fast as Barry’s childish legs would allow. As they approached Henry’s body, she felt her son give her hand a squeeze and she knew then that in her moment of unconsciousness Barry had made the horrifying discovery. Her heart ached as she imagined his fear and grief at the thought that he might be alone.

They reached the door and she swung it open, gasping when she came face to face with Achilles.

He had found them.

Despite her restricting herself into that suit of flesh in an attempt to camouflage herself, he’d tracked them down. Instinctively she pulled Barry behind her, acting as a human shield.

“Achilles, please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. His head tilted to the side, his eyes still red as he had retained his godly form.

“Please. I beg you. Don’t hurt him.” She pleaded once again. But it was no use. Achilles flung her to the side with a single, unpredictable, slap to the face leaving a trembling Barry staring up at him, paralysed by shock. The apparition lifted his hand, his palm facing Barry, as he planned his final strike.

“Run, Barry! Run!” Nora yelled, gathering what strength was still left in that broken vessel. His mother’s scream was enough to jolt him out of his fear and Barry turned around, sprinting in the opposite direction. Achilles made no move to chase him, instead his hand grew bright with the surge of electricity that grew around it as he prepared his blast.

He aimed.

He charged.

He fired.

“No!”

Iris broke free of her corporeal state, burning Nora away with the intensity of her essence. She sped into the bolts trajectory and it struck her straight in the heart.

The world disappeared in a flash of light.

[the-life-we-fear]

ALEXANDER JAMES  MCTAVISH MCNAIR’S PAST (1720-1730)

Jus’ A Wee Barren

Born in an old stables in Inverness, right next to his father’s favorite horse sleeping off the ride from the town, Alexander Mcnair was born. First of his name in the Mcnair family but a blessing to Sophie and Rupert. Alex was born with fiery red hair that curled just out of his mother’s womb and his soul was just as fiery. For the first ten years of wee Alex’s life, his mother often found him setting ‘accidental’ fires to stable houses, falling off backs of horses by riding on them improperly, and running around the McNair estate gripping his father’s dirk. His mother would follow him around the house knitting their next blanket for the harsh winter’s to come and to bring to their stay at Caslte Leoch for the winter. 

Alex looked forward to winter’s most since he was able to practice swords with his uncle Robert and sampling the whiskey Robert used to sneak for him as well. Life was good in Scotland for his family until three months after the Winter’s Crest. 

His father and wee Alex were returning home one day after transferring the crops Rupert nursed the week before to sell for money for the tenants when they came home to their door kicked open and two British Solider’s posted outside the house. His father was outraged since the only people in the house without Alex and himself was Sophie and their kitchen maid Iris. Despite  the two soldiers posted outside their house, Rupert stormed in leaving young Alex outside staring at the wood scattered all over their front stairs. Iris screamed from the inside as a crash echoed through the house. And then a window broke. Broke from the sound of gunfire inside the house. Alex’s skin went cold. He may have been a young child, but he heard the stories from his father and other children of the British entering the homes of Scottish townsfolk and taking what they want because god knows why. 

After what felt like hours, Rupert’s body was dragged out of the house and lain in front of Alex. It wasn’t till his mother was pushed out after, tears streaming her face and then pushed to the ground in front of Alex did he fall to his own knees. One of the soldiers posted outside stepped behind him and placed their hand on his shoulder almost as to console him for what he was about to see. Just at the age of ten. And with one quick shot, his mother lay on the dirt next to his father. The Solider’s didn’t give their reasons for raiding his home, nor did they think it was necessary to a young Scottish child.  

Life at Leoch Castle(1730-1740)

Alex’s things were transported to his Uncle’s home, well what he wanted to bring there which was just a couple of his father’s kilts, nightshirts, sword and dirk. Everything else was left behind for Robert to deal with. When Alex arrived to Castle Leoch, he learned that he had two other Uncles who were bastards, Etherial and Jared had joined the Castle’s men.They weren’t too much older than him, just turned 18 when Alex came to stay at the castle. They were the men who taught this wee Scotsman to be a Solider who would soon fight for his fellow Scotsmen to be free, free from the British. 

In the mornings of the castle, he would join Jared out in the stables to begin tending to the horses. They would brush, feed, tame, and if Alex was lucky, take the horse out for a ride out in the fields in the back of the castle. 

During the first Winter-festival living in the Castle, Alex made friends with the Cooks daughter, Celeste. Beautiful, long, blonde hair that glowed in the sunlight. They met when Alex’s Uncle’s first son, Tomas invited him to sit at the table with Celeste and a few other lads at the time. Alex was 12 sitting at the table with a bunch of 16 year old lads and lasses, but the only sophisticated one was Celeste.  Alex learned that Celeste and Tomas would be wed once they came of age, and the two of them were always infatuated with each other when the other was around. But Alex got closer to Celeste rather than Tomas. They were always found running around the castle, sneaking food to take up to the fields to lay in and just talk about the future. A possible future where the British didn’t have a part in Scotland's life. 

Tomas even got jealous one day, watching Alex and Celeste run up to the stables instead of heading into the town when the three where teenagers, 16 years of age, and challenged the red head to a duel in the field after dinner. Alex tried to explain to Tomas that his intention wasn’t to steal Celeste from him. But Tomas still wanted to duel. So the two of them scarfed down their dinner, and rushed out to the field, swords at hand and began their duel. Celeste, Etherial, and Jared were the only ones present. It was a sloppy fight, the boys were stumbling over their feet, slicing each other on the arms, the legs, and the chest. Nothing to make either man scar. In the end, Alex won, but only because Tomas yielded. After that day, Alex made it a point to get better at fighting, and by the age of 18, he was fighting in his first war. 

It wasn’t a large one, but it was against the British. It was a war that broke out because a Scotsman fought back against a group of British troops because they barged in, ransacked the place, had their way with the man’s 20 year old daughter, and left them for dead. This was something Alex wanted to stand behind, since he wanted this to stop. This was the war he chose to fight in. One that got 18 year old Alex captured. He wasn’t afraid. He was determined to show those British that he wasn’t going to lay down and take what they threw at him. Even when a British officer gave him 200 lashes over the span of three days, scaring him for life. But those scars would make him fight longer and harder for Scotland’s freedom.  

Scars that Would Wound the Soul (1740-1742)

Life went on after a group of Robert’s men stormed the prison where Alex was being held and rescued him. They nursed him back to health on the way back to the castle which was a good two day’s ride. His back hurt him the most, but like the day it happened, he pushed his pain aside and stayed strong, even through the bumpy trip back to the castle. After that, he trained and trained even when he was hurting to become the man he was when he met Her.

At the age of 20, Alex was on a hunting trip with Etherial, Jared, Tomas, and a couple other men to collect the meet for the next week when they stumbled upon a woman. She was sitting by the side of the road, dress torn, singed in a couple of places, and holding her arms to her chest. She looked young, about the same age of Alex, and all of the men agreed to take her back to the castle. She was quiet the whole way to the castle, but that didn’t stop Alex from trying to make conversation with her. Once back at the castle, Alex offered to take the lass to see Mary, to get her new clothes and to get a good meal into her. That was when the woman told him her name. Liana Springs. Her hair was long, with different shades of brown throughout it’s wavy strands. Strands that smelled like peaches, even through the smell of ash that stained her clothes. 

As she got settled into the castle, she spent more time with Alex, even helped him out in the stables from time to time. She sooner opened up that when they found her, her house had just burned down, leaving he the only survivor. They grew closer because of that. Liana even grew closer to Celeste while doing the cooking, cleaning, and picking of herbs for the kitchen to use. They grew to be sisters. 

It wasn’t until six months of Liana being in the castle, did Celeste catch Alex gazing at her from across the room in the dinning hall, not being able to look away from her. Though it was returned from Liana’s side. Then came that year’s Winter’s Crest, where Alex stood in front of everyone and proposed himself to Liana, vowing to protect her, love her, and be by her side in whatever situation life put her through, and she accepted. 

They spent the next year and a half they grew inseparable. There wasn’t a moment they weren’t together. She began to go on trips with the men since she was able to prove her ability to take care of herself, taking down a bull that was racing towards Tomas once. If they weren’t right by each other's side, they were near, gazing at each other so much that Celeste began to poke fun at the two of them every chance she got. 

But it wasn’t all easy for them. Liana had disappeared sometimes in the night, and Alex found her coming back two hours later sneaking back into the quarters. At first, he thought it was just her wanting to get some air, but it wasn’t after a night of love making did he catch a glimpse of blood on her nightshirt. He confronted her about it, checking her skin for any wounds but found any, but she still had a small blood smell to her. That was when she admitted to him that she wasn’t human. That she was in fact a Telepathic Vampire. At first Alex was shocked, but she hadn’t caused anyone harm in the castle, and he trusted her. Never had she shown any sort of danger with the time she lived there with him. He also heard stories of mythical creatures walking the lands, creatures that feasted on human blood, and wolves that change into beautiful women the next. He actually found the idea of it beautiful. So he did not shun her for it. But it wasn’t until Celeste was out with Tomas one night that she found Liana sneaking off to feed did she grow suspicious. Celeste confronted her the next day and was demanding that she explain to her what was going on. So Liana did, but she made her promise that no one else would know of her. But that secrecy didn’t last for long. 

One night when Liana decided to feed, she was found by Etherial, Jared, and a few men who had chased Robert’s dog in the direction of where Liana was feeding, and found her covered in blood, with her teeth sunk in a deer. They rushed back, not recognizing the girl that Alex had fallen in love with, to report what they saw to Robert, who immediately in the middle of the night called to speak with Alex. 

Robert was afraid for his people, Alex understood that. But now more people knew of Liana’s true self. And that terrified Alex. Talk already was spreading around the castle of what she was. This was a week before Alex and Liana were to be wed. Alex was able to calm Roberts fears and he agreed to let them both stay.

That whole week Liana was distant, barley talking to Celeste or either Alex, even on the nights they were alone. It wasn’t until the night before their wedding did Liana truly speak to him. That night they fell asleep in eachother’s arms, crying from the words that were spoken that night. But those tears wouldn’t be the last for Alex for the years to come. 

The next day, Alex woke to an empty bed and a note set on the bed side. She had left. Left in fear of how many knew of her secret. In fear that one day, she would hurt the family she grew into. So she left to protect. To protect him most of all. 

Fighting for A Scot(1742-1745)

After Liana’s departure, Alex grew distant even towards Celeste. Spending most of his time out in the stables, taking all of his meals there. That lasted for three years until he was called to fight in the Battle of Colluden. He fought long and hard, but they still lost the battle. Some Scotts were killed after the battle, but those that accepted the defeat were spared. So Alex, Jared, Tomas, were hired, a long with a few other men to be at the service to Irish and British families that needed their help. 

His heart never stopped aching. It ached for the memory of Liana, and for the loss of his countrymen. But that wouldn’t stop him for fighting for the ones he loved. Supernatural or human.

[seripixelbiologist-ffc]

The actual first chapter of The Fabled Blue Rose

I toss and turn in my leaf green colored bed as the night slowly fades away into day but the hold of sleep refuses to take me. I can hear my wolf pack waking up from there sleep in the puppy play yard that is connected to my yard so I know it’s almost time to work. I sigh realizing that I had not slept a wink, but soon smile as the zoo needs tending too because there’s so much to do in the zoo! Though it may be exhausting at times I really love my job! I get up, get dressed in my zoo attire, grab my backpack and walk down the stairs to the kitchen and start getting ready for the day. I put my bag down on a chair at the kitchen table and look through its contents while saying them out loud “the sword of light, my steel leaf armour, a bow with some basic enchants and arrows for the bow of course. mole fingers my shovel, chickpickedi my pickaxe, a regular axe with some basic enchants on it,10 safari nets, shears for collecting plants, a crafting table, and my phone plus some food for me and the dogs”

It may seem weird that a zookeeper needs weapons and tools, but this world is still very wild and monsters can lurk around any corner. Though my home and Zoodessia are usually safe as I’ve lit up everything quite well, but the off chance that there is a monster I want to be prepared. My stomach soon growls for food so I quickly prepare some. After I eat, I prepare more even food for the day ahead and place it in my bag. I turn on the camera drone that was made by professor Cowplant the 3rd while getting ready for my weekly livestream, It flies up and points its camera at me. I look at the drone with vines painted all over it to help it blend in with the greenery then say to it “alright live stream in 10 seconds”

The drone is voice activated so it doesn’t need somebody to control it and I find that very handy when in the exhibits or out on expeditions as I usually travel without other people. I swing my bag over my shoulder saying after the light turns red meaning its recording and live streaming “hey everyone! And welcome back to Zoodesia zoo!”

I wave at the camera as a small screen slides out of the drone so I can see the comments and say “I was just about to get one of my wolves to accompany us for today and I figured why not let my fellow biologists choose! So which wolf or wolves should we take today?”

When I look at the comments I see most saying Lily or Tate, then a few for Pine and Ash i say “let’s let Tate and Lily rest for a little longer and we’ll take Pine and Ash, Alright?”

Soon after I walk outside to my backyard which has many mixed gardens growing and hear the barks of my wolfpack. Which consists of Lily, my very first wolf and companion in this world along with Tate, her brother, Iris, Tates mate. Ash and Pine plus Devon, Pine’s mate and their puppies who are grown up. I walk across the bridge that connects my yard to their play yard and call out “Lilly! Tate! Iris! Ash! Pine! Devon! Puppies!”

But none of them are up at the gate like usual I call again but still no wolves, I look at the camera and say “this is unusual, but I get to show off the newly renovated puppy play yard to you guys!”

I see some of the commenters are worried asking if they are ok, I smile and nod replying while opening the gate “they are doing really well guys I just let them rest after our last plant expedition”

The play yard has toys scattered around and is about 20 metres larger than before so the wolves have more room to run. The Wolf den got a bit of an upgrade also as its a bit larger and has a floor instead of grass, I walk further into the yard after closing the gate gasping in surprise at what I see whispering “you guys can see this too right?”

I glance over the comments and they basically say what I’m thinking-

Commenter: that’s not one of your wolves! *Gasp*

Another commenter: who is that wolf!

Random comment :it’s big!

Another comment: how did it get in there!

And many more, a lot of them are telling me to be careful also, I take a deep breath and look over again just to make sure I’m not dreaming. A pure black wolf is standing nose to nose with Lily, neither are hostile at each other, I stand very still unsure what is going on as questions keep popping up in my head like popcorn. Why is this wolf here? Who is it? Is it friendly? Lily starts to cautiously sniff the wolf then after a few seconds her tail starts to wag, I whisper remembering I’m still streaming “I have never seen this wolf before, but it looks like Lily has. You need to remember that she was once a wild wolf so she has relationships that I never knew about, that wolf most likely was once apart of Lily and Tate’s pack, he’s huge so most likely as the alpha male of their former pack”

Lily soon barks happily at the huge wolf and after that Tate comes over and inspects the wolf then the others come over with their tongues out. It’s then I notice Tate and Lily look somewhat like the wolf visitor sharing a similar build, i say out loud relaying my thoughts “guy’s I-I think that’s their father… Can you see the resemblance in the black wolves build to my wolves? The snout is very similar along with the proportions of the legs to the body”

After quickly glancing at the comments and seeing some of the watchers agree with me I say “ok I’m gonna call over Lily and Tate… Lily! Tate! Over here!”

All the wolves look at me including the black wolf that is giving me a refined almost royal feeling, then Lily and Tate run over to me. After taking turns jumping up on me and licking my face, they sit there rumps on the ground and look up at me both of their tails are wagging a mile a minute. I can tell whoever this wolf is they are happy to see him, I ask “Lily? Tate? Who is this? Your dad?”

The duo nod and then bark at the older wolf as if asking him to come over, he complies walking over cautiously. I kneel down near a dog dish and slowly taken some of the chicken out saying lowly “hi you must be hungry”

The wolf nods, I blink this is the first time I’ve interacted with a pure wild wolf in a while but I don’t ever remember them picking up on human speech this fast. It took Lily and Tate a few days to understand me properly, I slowly bring my hand out to the wolf and open my hand revealing the piece of chicken. I say “take it you’re hungry”

The wolf sniffs my hand and the chicken carefully then takes a small piece, after he gulps it down he wags his tail, gently taking the rest of the chicken from my hand. When he sits down I know the bond has been completed and say “what should your name be?”

I look at the floating drones screen and see a lot of people wanting his name to be Shadow, Onyx, or Slate, I think hrmmm well… He does have black fur and no name is jumping out at me. I look at him and say “Hmm Shadow? Onyx? Or Slate”

He looks at me again seemingly not impressed with those names then I look at his stunning green eyes and one name calls to me “Ceder? Would you like your name to be Ceder?”

The wolf simply nods and starts to devour the contents of a food dish as I stand there saying “well I guess you are hungry”

[legionmaster001]

My second and maybe, just maybe last post, as editing in the Tmblur app is still hell. This one still goes for @bl00dalchemist​’s characters, wich I love and owe a ton of inspiration.

I insist that this is not the kind of story that fits with them. However, I seriusly need to do this right, for the demons, for the bastard himself.

Again, I hope you all enjoy it.

The Black Death

“A dense mist engulfed the portuary town of Sicily as a dirty withe chariot aproached from the Northside one fatidic morning of October. The horses that pulled it looked sick, with their whinny resounding through the souls of those who first saw them like the pleads of a dying men, the rhymt of their gallop confessed the bad omens they carried in tounges that no one could speak. The sun wasn’t coming out that day, as even it cowered to the darkness that acompained the chariot.

—Aye! Aye! —exclaimed the charioteer, coughing and whipping his horses with his famelic arms and an old wip.

The mist stopped as the chariot did, like if it were a simple passanger itself. Near the entrance of the town, under the few houses that went to the end of the town and a sign of putrefacted wood and worn out letters, the real passager got out, saying not a single word to the poor looking driver before giving him a fist of herbs and a small sheet of paper.

—I owe you my life, sir —claimed the charioter, thankful and trustful.

—You shall pay me soon, then… —whispered the young man as he turned around, willing to travel what path was left to his destination on foot.

Only the sound of footsteps and the clicking sound of a wooden cane could be heard, as the townsfolk that stayed in their homes and businesses observed the withe haired but young foreigner with suspicion and intrigue. The man, with his black clothes, stiff cane and leather bag, never stared back. He was the doctor that the town needed, and he wasn’t in humor to humilliate the peasants that day.

—Maybe it’s too late… —Wondered the Doctor, scratching his withe beard. 

Almost running through the streets he directed himslef to the city’s port, guided by no one. Promptly he arrived to the dock, where rotting carcasses of the hanged still moored with rope around their necks. Ships of all sizes slowly swung, exhibiting like the corpses of the condemned. But the one that was supposed to soon touch land was an emissary of death was about unload a terrible charge; a Plague. 

His superiors had heard about it long before, and terrified predicted a wave of death and decay so great that it might as well be the end of all men. A disease so terrible that made the greatest Imperium of the world quail, that cared not about the children of god, killing everyone in its path, and transformed the deserts of the East in black seas, making all the Crusades look like a simple bar fight, and leaving piles upon piles of corpses, tall enough to cover the light of the morning sun.

—He is here!

—It can’t be.

—Just in the right moment.

The people that had gathered among the docks welcomed the Doctor with most expectation and joy. The strange man was a light of hope in their eyes, as the dim light of the early sun was completely covered by the mist of the morning, that with the help of the cloud that the Doctor carried, claimed the town for themselves. 

—What is happening here, my friend? —Asked the Doctor to the nearest man, putting his best smile. However, fear started to grow inside him as he realized that he already knew what was the problem.

—Ships came, the mariners look so sick, we’d never seen something like that! —Answered the man with nothing but fear in his eyes.

The Doctor walked to the sick mariners, seemingly calm, with only a few corageous enough and the constant feeling of having the spirits of the hanged swirling in the mist, to accompany him. Dead flesh by fingers and tumors as big as apples adorning their necks; the mariners had what was soon to be known as the Black Death. Such sight deeply affected the Doctor, that feared they wouldn’t survive enough to be played with, and make the townsfolk help them arrive to a church. He had more important things to do in the main ship, and as so, giving the excuse of finding a cause to such an horrible illness, he went alone. The folk cheered such an heroic behavior, for the Doctor was about to enter the guts of the beast.

He wandered to the insides of the ship, slowly revealing his nature: skin gray as ashes of the dead, theet and claws sharp and short as daggers to eviscerate, a tail that moved elegantly over the ground, and horns long and curved in a beautiful but simple way, with black ends. The demon Doctor finally was free, as he both rejoiced and shivered at the results of the Black Death; mariners abandoned still alive, drowning in their own vomited blood, corpses filled to the brim with tumors, and at the end of it all, a rotten, destroyed last corpse of what seemed to be a rather small and young man roughly dressed as a Eastern Companion Lady. It was of a unnatural pinkish color, from hair to inners, including the skin. It’s odor was strangely sweet.

—Not even the rats would claim this one… —Said the Doctor, poking the rotten corpse with his cane, not impressed with the weirdness of the body. A expression of disgust was on his face.

—But you can, it’s not that expensive —answered the supposed corpse in a sweet tone, or at least the sweetest it could do with its vocal cords so damaged.

—What in the bloody name of lord Baal…?

The now somewhat alive youngster extended a tounge like a venomous serpent, wich slowly coiled around the Doctor’s cane in a unsuccessful attempt to look somewhat provocative. The Doctor looked at him with mistrust, as he didn’t want another demon on his lands, even less one that could put in risk his entire career. But something called the attention of the Doctor: the young, rotten, blighted and lustful demon had glittering eyes with a strange beauty on them. The Doctor stared at them, almost forggoting for what he was there. Something was deeply wrong with its irregular and dead green iris and yellow sclera, but it wasn’t any kind of magic.

—Who the hell are you and what is your business here? —Asked the Doctor as politely as his word enabled him to be, snapping out of his trance and pulling his cane out of the mouth of the living corpse, ripping its tounge— I just cleaned this thing…

—My name is Gillian, and I am a humble Satan’s servant like you —said Gillian after he grew another tounge— born in holy land like you, ended up in the west, where Lord Belcebub gave me his most recent toy. Really not my type, but kinky, I must admit.

—Go to the point —The Doctor was quickly losing his scarce patience.

—Whatever you say, big boy. I was taken by those called Mongols in an invasion, they used me and threw me to the walls of a city —Gillian stopped to whisper, curses or compliments, it didn’t matter to the Doctor —, and I came with the merchants that ran from the war, and here you have me. So, do you want me to…?

The Doctor interrupted Gillian, tapping the wooden planks with his cane. The smug and peaceful expression with wich he entered the ship was again in his face. He Scratched his beard again, meditating about the situation. Before speaking he put on a small pair of reading glasses.

—I want you to leave. Now! —Shouted the Doctor, clearly mad. Fur od the same grey of his skin slowly spreaded around his body as it grew taller and demonic in form— I can’t afford to lose all my potential patients because of your pestilence!

The horns of the Doctor were about to break the ceiling when a flame materialized between them, taking the form of a shining crown.

—You don’t sound like a doctor at all —said Gillian, carefree and rather relaxed, almost like if he enjoyed the anger proyected at him, and unable to see.

—I am, but I have no enough hands, nor patience to amputate all this people, it wouldn’t even be fun anymore —The Doctor turned around, ready to leave. The boy didn’t whort the risk of beign discovered that soon— I am not the only one that will get damaged by this situation, so is better if you swim back to the East.

—I will see what I can do, hotstuff, but, sure u’ don’t want some of this? —Gillian lifted his leg, showing off what was left of it before it fell, leaving nothing but a small pool of black mush.

—Never in my 1,369 years of life have I been so horrified…

—It is not the last time you’ll say that, I bet —Gillian chuckled.

Breathing deep the Doctor started to leave, thinking of ways to actually save some lifes before the plage started to get worse. His demonic form disipated with the mist of the outside, letting the sun light enter through the few holes in the ship and hit both demons.

—Anyway, before you leave, what is your name? —Asked Gillian, trying to slowly cralw.

—Kinto —Was the only answer.

Gillian stopped in his tracks, now looking at Kinto under the sun light, he knew the name, everyone did. Kinto was the demon that singlehandedly transformed part of the Holy Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem from loyal and godfearing warriors to an encrazed cult that practiced surgery on the child of the christian and muslim alike in the chaos of the damned cruzades, and the demon who made his golden earrings from the crosses of the Templar fallen heroes. All despite of being all but a warrior demon.

One last time Kinto looked behind, to see the pink son of the wither, angrier than ever, not for his actions and indiference, but because he felt a kind of warmth that no scream, bloody murder or great payment had given to him, all when looking at those rotten, glittering eyes.

In that cold morning Kinto, the cruel image of the sadism dressed as men of medicine, the corruption of those to swore protect, cure and save, met both the factor and the person that would end his current life, and forever change his eternal one, just like the world itself”.

Omfg I realized how many errors of all kinds I commited. I am so sorry. I don’t feel like a Fan anymore.

For those to made it to the end despite it beign just a slightly improved version; a trillion thanks.