#I think they agree knives is ill-fitting

[niceness-before-knives]

I gotta figure out when the whole team figures out Knives’ name isn’t actually Rook. Because he’s so easy-going and chill, he’d just introduce himself as ‘people call me Rook’. Because it’s true. People do~~~ A lot~~~ It’s not like his name tho.

I’m imagining like sometime in late Act 2, Harding (the only one in the know) exasperatedly calls Knives Knives. And then, chaos just ensues.

Especially when Knives corrects himself like, ‘Actually. Mhm. No. That’s inaccurate. It’s ’And Ninety-Nine Knives Gleamed In the Firelight’. No one ever says the whole thing though. Except my ex.’

Beat.

‘It’s just to drag out the conversation. u__u;’

[bozepomagaj]

Modern/College AU HC's! (Twins edition)

Nai/Knives Saverem

I plan on writing a small drabble on Rem's backstory and how she met&adopted the twins so I don't wanna spoil too much but as I mentioned, she worked as a biologist, made plenty of discoveries but then later on started focusing on rheumatology after taking the twins in. She found out after she adopted them that they both have a rare disease that barely any doctor was willing to work with, let alone give them some kind of treatment. Thankfully, Knives spent most of his life in remission, and when his symptoms did show, it was nowhere near like Vash. Vash's longest remission lasted for around 2 years. Since doctors didn't know what illness he had at first, they just stuffed him with random drugs that ended up causing other problems and illnesses in his body. I can go more into detail about the illnesses they have, but... maybe another time.

Due to all this, Knives takes meticulous care of his body. Goes to the gym regularly, makes sure to eat enough calories every day, takes supplements if needed, and has an extensive skincare routine. He has his sweet cravings, but he never indulges in them. 'Cheat days'? Never heard of them. Alcohol? He'd rather drink poison. I mean to him, it's the same.

Everyone thinks that the nickname 'Knives' came from Wolfwood, who kept calling him that because of his incredible cooking skills. In reality, it's because Knives had an affinity towards 'pretty' knives since he was a kid. A black higonokami and a trapper are his favorite possessions at the moment.

To add to the previous hc, Knives wanted to play darts so badly as a kid. He thought it would make him look cool, but Rem refused to buy him the game. So he just started throwing knives at the wall until she caved in and finally bought him the game so he'd stop making holes in her walls because she loved him. He loves playing 301 because he gets to show off how precise he can be.

Knives and Vash's shared apartment is big, but definitely not big enough to fit a grand piano, and it irks him. He bought an electric piano, but he absolutely despises it. It sounds too soulless, too shallow for him.

Cat dad? More like plant dad. That man has an insane amount of cacti in his room, their entire apartment is filled to the brim with all kinds of greenery Vash could rarely go outside as a kid due to him constantly going from hospital to hospital so plants and nature calm him down, he loves being surrounded by flowers but you can only find the cacti in his room, no other plant. Except... a singular Adam and Eve orchid next to his bed.

Surprisingly, Knives does enjoy video games. In fact, he was the one who first started playing them and got Vash into them. Anything with deep, unique plots and lots and lots of world building will have him drooling. Avid player of FF14 and a huge Zenos fan and defender. As for his favorite game, without a doubt, it's 'The Last Guardian' but he'll never admit it if you ask him.

Out of the entire friend group, the only person he actually likes is Milly, surprisingly. He knew her prior to finding out she's a part of Vash's friend group. They often went to the gym around the same times and left around the same times. It started with Milly trying to talk to him, but he'd never pay her any heed. But she continued. Hours upon hours. Every day. After some time, he finally started giving in, nodding and agreeing with what she's saying. Until they eventually started making actual conversations, giving each other tips, exchanging their favorite protein bars and their drinks. Vash was presently surprised by their friendship.

He enjoys sketching. Never actually making full-fledged art but just sketching either some type of scenery that left an impression on him or practicing dynamic poses he sees online or in fashion magazines. When he gets frustrated with his piano because it just 'doesn't sound right,' he'll plop down on hus bed, get himself a notebook, and start sketching until he gets bored of it. He wouldn't classify it as a hobby since he doesn't do it as often, but if he wanted to, he could definitely make some beautiful pieces of art.

Vash The Stampede

Plant dad #2 except he SUCKS. He has so many plants, sometimes when he's caught up with things he will completely forget to water them. He'll only notice when they wilt and he'll spend hours crying over it and feeling bad No, Knives isn't holding his laugh back when this happens, its just the allergies messing with him, he's just coughing.

Despite being incredibly ill, drumroll please... Vash has no allergies! He does have food restrictions, but hey, at least he can eat peanut butter!

Unlike his dear brother, he doesn't really watch after himself that well. Sure, he goes out on walks and spends an hour or two at the gym but dieting? Hell no, he's eating whatever he can, whenever he can.

Also, that man is as clumsy as it can get. He could be walking on a completely flat surface, and he'll still find a way to fall and hurt something.

Y'know how some people can tell when its gonna rain due to their joints hurting? Vash. Just... Vash. Everytime. But hey, at least everyone has their umbrellas always ready!

Like I mentioned with Knives, Vash loves video games! Simulators, RPG-s, point-and-click horror, anything! His favorite would definitely have to be 'Ori and the Will of the Wisps'. Loves the way it looks, and he always, and I mean always, cries when he sees Shrieks' backstory. The ending, too, makes him cry.

Also unlike Knives, he absolutely loves the multiplayer part of FF14. He'll spend hours of talking with people, making friends and just doing dumb shit.

Can't read notes for shit but will somehow make the most heart-wrenching tunes known to man when he gets ahold of his brothers piano. Knives will just stare at him, mouth agape, lowkey jealous...

Has plenty of cheesy, donut themed stuff around the house. Earrings, rings, cups with lil donuts on them, plates in the shape of a donut, shirts with donut puns, everything! This is due to Knives finally snapping and telling him to stop eating so much sugar every day. He is now allowed only 4 donuts per week.

He tends to get overwhelmed by beautiful scenery to the point of tears. Rem took them to a nearby forest once, near a stream during spring when flowers were in full bloom, and Vash ended up breaking down into tears because it was so beautiful to him.

Despite what Knives thinks, Vash doesn't always drink when he goes out. He does get drunk from time to time, but the cause of his clothes always smelling like alcohol is from constantly being on the dancefloor and bumping into people

Barely anyone knows about his condition, actually. He begged his professors not to tell anyone when he brought in the papers for the first time. As for his constant hospital visits, he'll just say he's 'unlucky' and got sick again, same goes for when he's gone for a couple of days/weeks.

That's it for now I think. If anyone has any questions or wants me to elaborate, I would absolutely love to do so🫡

[dollhouse-lied]

Where the light fades

Chapter one

TW MURDER, VIOLENCE, LIGHT GORE DESCRIPTIONS, DEATH DD-DNE

The smoke faded back into the floor, leaving Charlie staring blankly at the symbol on the basement floor. A single tear fell from his eye, suddenly realizing what he had agreed to.

“What did i do,”

***

Grace was on her way. Charlie gripped the bat, glancing out from behind the trees. He breathed shakily, hyping himself up for what he was about to do. His mind was buzzing, vision doubling and swaying with every terrible second that passed. Ruby was at the house, waiting with the tarp and knives. Charlie had to do it. He wouldn't get caught, he couldn't. The deal was just for the sacrifice, he wouldn't get caught. That was all he was thinking about, how he would never get caught, how her mutilated body wouldn't be linked to him, how her family would never get justice for the horrible, sickening-

Charlie jumped at the sound of steps down the path to his house. He ducked slightly, gripping the bat as she got closer. His breathing stopped as he watched her innocently walk down the path like she had many times before, not knowing this would be her last time. Once she was just in front of him, he lept out and struck her with the bat as hard as he could. She turned as she collapsed, gasping as her best friend beat her nose in. 

He kept striking as she went down, making sure she wouldn't be able to wake up. He couldn't kill her with the vivisection, that seemed cruel. If he was able to kill her with the bat, in charlie's mind, it would be an act of mercy. 

He stood up, resting the blood-soaked bat on his shoulder. She had to be dead. Alive peoples' heads don't make that cracking noise. Alive peoples faces weren't that crushed. He started to panic, breathing shakily as he grabbed the wagon from behind the trees. The blood was soaking into the dirt and matting into her long black hair. He tried to pick her up, but she was much heavier than he had expected. His warm, blood slicked hands slipped on her pale skin. He dragged her up onto the wagon, shoving her limbs to fit in a sickeningly unnatural way with a soft pop. He looked at his dead best friend in the wagon, trying not to lose his nerve as he started back towards the house.

thank you for reading! ill post more later ^^

[the-firebird69]

Union Bank (Morrisville, Vermont) - Wikipedia

Well our son was up in the campground he opened a bank account and you remember it because he was trying to get into the fitness club and some other things and it was kind of tough he said and he gave up on that other stuff but he opened the bank account and he has about well he started with about $3,000 and his mom says you forgot your money on the ride home now but he said it to her she said forget about it it's gone that's what she said and they left. So she was being mean no she said it's too tough and he agreed it was getting pretty rough to do anything and they were keeping it on purpose plan to try and grab him if he went there and that's why. That's what these people are doing mostly. And they put them through it too start screwing around with them they just have to leave early and it was good thing but right now there's 450,000 in that account that's why they're going up there they heard it earlier and Ken was going to get up there he said that's a lot of money he says what would I do with it says try and protect the ship and it's the max stuff they're not doing so good they still covered it for some reason it's history I guess and they plan on using it but really they want to use it not our son and they're ridiculous idiots we're going to cream them and they'll all be gone thankfully. They're going up there because a lot of people are headed up there and the circus arrives and Mike too says it too something wicked this Way comes and Macbeth was about them poisoning each other and it happens a bit but mostly it's Lilith and she kills him he's revived and says I'm going to get that b**** and she says I mean demons and then she says I mean he says I mean devil he says don't tell me for anything these creatures are extremely deadly you're seeing them when they're down if they get up you're not going to and he says oh wow this is a statement I better remember it he remembers what are you sing in the movies he says it's probably pretty bad it says bad and these things have been awful and they're going to raise their kids it's going to be a nightmare. The others get raised and people don't notice it and it's their son and daughter and they actually are in a very different movie on the west coast when she arrives and she's the girl and it is Lost boys and he arrives on the East Coast and it's the devil's son and they're actually somewhere else the coincides to their ruling Castle and they haven't figured anything out yet Wednesday Notre Dame and that would be her. And they're going to check it out and yeah these creatures are very old. I'd have to say that he's copying me but I don't think so it is Salems lot, you're saying it to him because they went there a few times to visit when in New Hampshire when his dad was getting ill and they're saying it's his lot in life and yeah we're getting revenge on you and the creature is stabbed comes back and with a vengeance and destroys you and becomes your president and you think the max are below

Liluth and the Devil

Olympus

That's thier stage names and yes in the Bible, it's just their characters so calm down

Thor Freya

Wonderful wonderful boy what a way for them to arrive they're going to go unburied them themselves and doom themselves and insult the living crap out of her they did know that the knife broke and that they're in trouble is one of our sons stainless steel knives and it's very strong. We're going to watch you all die now we're going to make you die

Nuada Arrianna

Right now they're a huge forces going to France and giant forces that are going down after the clones and it is a war also the three are under fierce attack and they've lost half their ships that they had they're down to about 700 million and they lost 20% more of the big stuff and they're down to 45%, and they're getting weak and they express it too they're not going to be replaced by Max foreigners are pouring in and as they go to France or goes all over the world and spies are grabbing them and they have data now tons of it on the stone chips and Saturn and what happened it's going on all of it right now

Thor Freya

Then one question to ask why is he shielding his eyes and he thinks it's the phone and we do too so he's going to take a break

Olympus

[georgiapeach30513]

But now it’s time to retire that look ////

I agree - the polos was a good look, baggy pleated pants need to go. My question is, what direction would you go for him style-wise for red carpet? Too casual/funky and it seems like he's trying to hard to be young but then he's not an old man. Then I'm thinking why not stick to his roots - something classic New England based look. The TIFF looks for Knives Out I really liked (well except the white suit). Sooo many options but no more baggy pleated ill-fitting pants! 🤣

The pleated pants last year were fine. But why is he still dressing the same? It's a new year, and a new season! I'm not an expert by any means on fashion. But I would love to see the length of his legs again. I don't want him to be too comfortable, and look slouchy. But yes, CLASSY! I love him in the suits without a tie. I did love the vests, but we've seen that twice. change it up. You didn't like the white TIFF suit??? It's the ill fitting clothing. It's gotta go. And the polos. They've had their run.

Now, his MTV look I LOVED! But it worked for MTV. I didn't mind his con looks, because that was casual. But if PH goes to TIFF (if that happens this year) and we see him in loose fitting clothes, I'm going to scream. Or worse...Red One. I dread to see what she dresses them in!

Chris looks so good in red and blue. Keep it simple, keep it classy, keep it fitted!

[saltyhyunjae]

CHAPTER THREE: YOU KNOCK ME OUT COLD AND DISAPPEAR

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers (?), kidnapping, criminal!tbz, mentions of guns & knives, small mention of suicide

word count: 2.2k

summary: It’s time for y/n to carry out her escape plan.

part two

“Here’s the diary you asked for.” Kevin gives you a small notebook with a pen. “Thank you.” Tomorrow is gonna be the day. The day you finally escape. When you enter your room, you sit on your bed and write down the info you have gathered all week.

Everyone goes to their room around 2 in the morning. Eric gets his midnight snack at 2:30, and Sunwoo goes to the toilet around 3. By the time they’re all asleep it’s 3:30. Instead of leaving at 3:30 you decide that it’s better to stay put till 4. You also checked the door last night. It doesn’t have any censors and an easy lock. This should be an easy mission.

“Knock knock.” Younghoon walks into your room. You quickly close your diary and put it on your nightstand.

“That’s not how you knock.”

He laughs and lies on your bed. “I’m so bored, what should we do?” “We?” You turn around to face him and he nods. You look outside. It’s been raining all week but the sun has been shining all morning. “Why don’t we sit in the garden?” You suggest. Ever since you came back from the grocery store you’ve only been inside. You needed some fresh air.

After a couple minutes you were outside with Younghoon, sitting on a picnic blanket, eating some fruit and enjoying the nice weather.

“Ah, the weather is great today.” Younghoon smiles, laying down on the blanket and you do the same. You smile at the warm feeling from the sun, finally relaxing.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can suddenly feel a shadow above you, blocking the sun. “What the-, move!” You hear Younghoon complain and you open your eyes to see Hyunjae, standing between you too. If you’re completely honest you’ve been avoiding him ever since what happened that one night. The more you hangout with him, the weirder you start to feel.

“What are you guys doing?” “What does it look like? We’re enjoying the sun.” Younghoon puts his sunglasses back on and lays down again. You’re about to close your eyes again but Hyunjae finds a way to lie between you two. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Younghoon groans. “I wanna enjoy the sun too.” “Go do that somewhere else.” “No.” You scootch over a bit and decide to just ignore him.

»»————-　➴　————-««

After you’re done with cleaning the living room and folding the laundry, Jacob asks you to have another guitar session, to which you excitedly agree. You loved his voice and you were hoping he could tell you a bit more about the boys.

He starts off by singing Paris In The Rain by Lauv. you absolutely love his voice and you automatically start smiling the second you hear him sing. You once again take your time to look at him. He has a soft smile as he sings, his hair falling just right above his eyes that are following the chords of the guitar and his head slowly nodding with the melodies.

When he finishes the song, you applaud him. “Wow Jacob, you’re so good at singing. Do you have some self-written songs?” He nods “I do, do you want to hear one?” You nod excitedly. “This one is called happy-” Jacob gets interrupted by Hyunjae storming into your room. Are you actually kidding me?

“Jacob, Sangyeon needs you to help him.” Jacob nods, stands up and thanks you for your time before leaving to help Sangyeon. You were hoping Hyunjae would leave with Jacob but instead he sits next to you on the bed, very close, leaving no personal space.

You're about to scootch away from him. But he places his hand on your thigh to stop you. Usually if a guy did this you would slap his hand away, but you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. “What’s with the distance? You’ve been avoiding me all week. Did you think I wouldn't notice?” He asks in a low voice. Your brain starts to fog up. “I-” You try to find words to say but nothing comes out. His face gets closer, never breaking eye contact with you.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” He smirks. You feel a bubble of annoyance come up. As you're about to reply with ‘no’, Eric storms in. “Y/n! ah Hyunjae, there you are!” “What do you want?” Hyunjae asks, clearly annoyed at Eric interrupting the two of you.

“Y/n, come play games with me. Hyunjae, you can come too if you want.” Hyunjae huffs and rolls his eyes. “Y/n, please.” Eric whines, now pulling your arm, trying to get you off the bed. “Okay okay.” You give in, scared to be alone with Hyunjae in one room. You would be lying if you say that your heart doesn't flutter every time you see him.

After an hour and a half of playing mario kart with Eric and Hyunjae, and you despite your sneaky protests, sitting in between them, and you beating both of them more than seven times, it’s finally time for dinner. And guess who you're sitting next to. Hyunjae.

“So guys, our break is ending. Our next group mission starts next week, so make sure you prepare for it well. I’ll tell you guys the details later.” Sangyeon announces and the boys cheer. “Finally I was so bored.” Changmin drops on his chair. “You're always bored, maybe you're just boring.” Eric laughs, making fun of him, but quickly stopping as Changmin points a knife at him.

After dinner Sangyeon and Chanhee offer to help clean up and Kevin helps you with the dishes. By the time you're done it’s late, so you decide to go to bed first. Since your escape is tomorrow, you need as much rest as you can.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Today you woke up a little later than normally so you won't be tired tonight. You really need your energy to run as fast as possible. After you guys are done with eating breakfast you watch a drama with Juyeon, Haknyeon and Eric, do laundry and clean the house and by the time you're done it's time to prepare for dinner which Younghoon and Sunwoo helps you with.

After dinner you clean up with Eric and then go to your room to prepare your outfits. You grab a sweater from your closet and a pair of leggings that would be comfortable and warm, since it would be cold at night.

While you put them under your bed with your sneakers, someone knocks on your door. Finally someone who can knock, you think. “Come in.” Jacob comes in smiling at you. “Hi, am I disturbing you?” You shake your head sitting on your bed and he does the same.

“Well I just wanna tell you I'm very happy to have you here, you’ve been helping us a lot even though I know you don’t wanna be here and I really appreciate you. I would’ve given you a present, but I don't think you would appreciate stolen stuff.” He looks down at his knees, blushing a bit, cute.

You started to feel a pang of guilt in your heart, Jacob has been an angel to you ever since you first spoke to him but you couldn’t take it any longer, you wanted to leave. You needed to leave. Trying to enjoy the time you had left with him you guys spent hours talking about Canada, his childhood, why he doesn’t swear and about how much he loves basketball. You could watch him talk for hours. You nod to everything he says, trying to ignore the butterflies you feel when you two make eye contact.

»»————-　➴　————-««

You look up at the clock in your room. 04:00. You get up from your bed and make your way to your bedroom door. You slowly open your door and walk to the stairs, quietly going down the steps and taking breaks every few steps. You mentally sigh when u make it downstairs u slowly make your way to the front door in the dark careful not to make a noise.

When you walk past the kitchen you decide to take a knife with you, just in case. When you get to the door you slowly open the door, cringing at the little squeak sound it makes in the process.

Once the door is wide enough for you to fit in, you step outside, leaving the door open, since the sound of the door closing might wake them up. You take a few quick steps till you reach further from the house.

Once you’re reaching the forest you hear the door slam open. Shit! You turn around before you start running. Sangyeon’s standing at the door. Clearly very angry. “Y/N!” You hear him scream as you start running fasters. You hear the others making a fuss as you take a turn right into the forest.

“God, she’s fast.” Kevin breathes out, taking a break from running. “Yeah, just let her go, I'm too tired.” Chanhee squats down, Younghoon doing the same. “No! she’ll report us to the police and then it’s over for us, we need to find her.” Sangyeon says before making his way to the forest, the others following behind him.

You notice the forest is on top of a hill, which makes you run down faster. You run way faster than expected, almost twisting your ankle when taking a turn left. The footsteps of the boys started to fade away but you didn’t slow down, adrenaline still rushing through your body.

“Y/N!” Sangyeon screams looking around, he stops running and waits for the others to catch up, when they do, he shares his plan. “Okay, we're splitting up in the units we use for our missions, call me when you find her.” And they all split up in their units, Sangyeon’s unit going left.

“How could she do this?” Eric sighs. “I mean we kidnapped her, this was bound to happen.” Hyunjae says. He hates to admit but he’s worried sick and hopes you're not hurt. He shrugs it off thinking it's just a normal reaction and that he’s not actually catching feelings for you.

After a while your running slows down and you start to get tired. You stumble across a huge fallen down tree and you decide to hide behind it. Cliche but you're so tired, you can barely feel your legs. Once you sit down, you bend a bit making sure your head isn’t visible. You sigh. Why did you have to be the one to get kidnapped, why did they have to rob the store you work at. You stop the tears you feel from flowing so it won’t block your sight.

“How fast is she, God.” You hear Changmin’s voice from a little distance. Shit. You're freaking out but remain in your position. You pray that they won’t see you, cause they’ll definitely kill you when they do. The voices are starting to fade and you take the opportunity to start running again, regaining the adrenaline you had earlier.

But you should’ve waited. Juyeon spots you. “There!” You hear him yell and they start running after you. You panic, taking a run right, into the darker part of the forest. You jump over another fallen tree and make your way further down. Once you lose them you slow down a bit. You can barely see anything, so you start walking.

Suddenly you feel two hands grab you. You startle and stab the person with the knife you're holding. “Ow!” Jacob. You panic as you start running again, feeling slightly bad that he was the one you stabbed. You hope he’s okay as you start running faster.

After a while you stumble over something that makes you fall down, hurting your knee and elbows. “Fuck.” You whisper, quickly getting up. Soon after you run into a tree hurting your chest and cheek. You were getting so tired, you couldn’t even focus on where you were running to. You prayed this all was just a bad dream and you would wake up in your own room again, remaining your normal life.

“Jacob what happened!” Sangyeon gives him a worried look. The boys gather around Jacob, who’s holding his arm. “She stabbed me.” He understands why you did it but it still hurts him. “God, she has a knife.” Sunwoo panics. “Younghoon and Chanhee, bring Jacob to the house and take care of his wound. The rest of us will keep on searching.” The boys nod at his order and split up again.

An hour passes and the boys still haven’t found you. Hyunjae starts to worry even more. They were all wearing a jacket, but you didn't. It was so cold around this time of the day and it would be so easy to freeze up. “Shouldn’t we just give up. The sun will start rising soon, she’ll probably show up again.” He suggests, but Sangyeon ignores him. He sighs. As much as he wants you to be free, he doesn’t want to let you go.

You’re just roaming around at this point. You have no idea how much time has passed, or if the boys have given up already. You think it might be easier to just stab yourself with a knife and just die. But you didn’t want to give up. You wanted your old life back. You finally see the end of the forest a couple meters away from you and run towards it. But something grabs you and spins you around. You look up and your eyes widen. Hyunjae.

»»————-　➴　————-««

taglist

@beauchamp-fraser @n-xrmy @givememunjang

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Five

ao3 - masterpost

hello, my dears. here's chapter five, without too much fanfare. enjoy<3

---

The morning of her first self-defense lesson with Cassian, Nesta awakes to a cool breeze blowing in the scent of roses from her open window.

"Good morning," Nesta says, smiling slightly. "I guess you liked my gift."

She had finished it yesterday, in the jewelry-making session. It had taken her the better part of the day. A sort of cover for the cracked, broken part of the walls the Illyrians had destroyed. Golden and gleaming and prettier than the beige paint around it, but complementing all the same.

And now the House, apparently, is showing her affection for it: a new rose bush outside of her room, fat flowers dangling down over the top of her window. A very pretty frame for her already spectacular view of the city.

The House gives her different clothes today, too. A fitted shirt, and a knee-length loose skirt, with leggings underneath. As close to pants as she'll wear. By Cassian's slight approving nod when she meets him after breakfast, he approves.

"We'll be starting on the roof," he says, in lieu of a greeting.

She nods once. She remembers hearing him, back in that awful first week here-goodness, but it's not yet been a full month since then, and it feels so long ago-hearing him up there, throwing knives around or whatever it was he did. She guesses she'll soon find out.

The crispness of the morning mountain air hits her in full force, but Cassian doesn't act like it fazes him at all. In fact, judging by the way his wings spread slightly wider, he likes it.

"All right," he says. "Let's begin."

The hour ticks by, slowing and speeding up depending on moments when Cassian touches her. There's none of his usual chatter or teasing; he's serious and unsmiling. The training ring is probably sacred to him.

Serious and unsmiling, but not discouraging. He's generous with his praise when she achieves his simple tasks-too generous, she thinks, but perhaps he has some ulterior motive.

Or perhaps, a small voice inside her head says, he's relieved you'll finally know how to defend yourself, and he means it.

It's not as daunting as it had seemed at first, this self defense. He's good for their agreement; this isn't training. He takes all her weaknesses and her proposed attacker's strengths into consideration and shows her how to maneuver past it all. How to cause an assailant-even one as big and strong as he is-to let her go when they grab her arms tightly in front, how to move her legs when she's caught in a chokehold, and how to break free when someone grabs her from behind.

"I guess no one will be able to pull onto your hair, though," he muses, more to himself than to her. "Keep your arms at your sides; you don't want them to get in the way of this one," he adds, mercifully changing the subject too quickly before he can notice her expression.

No one can pull on her hair now, that's the whole point. But they had, they had, rough enough that strands came out and she had no way to escape. What if she had known these tricks then? Would she have had a prayer? Would she still be human? Elain? And what of Father, would he still be alive? Or would it not have mattered; only delayed her certain torture and death, because she had been human, and they had been Fae, and in the end, that was all-

"Arms like this, Nesta," Cassian says, switching from mock-assailant to instructor as he gently tucks her arms against her sides, and drawing her out of her head to the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on hers, his body behind her. His wings block out the wind, and she can feel the warmth radiating from him to her core. "Because you don't want them to get in the way of when you break out...and why else?"

"So I don't use them to hurt myself," she says, repeating his words from earlier.

"Right...good. Let's do this one again. One last time."

She takes a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Yes." She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't need to. He doesn't let her feel trapped.

"All right, I'm grabbing you now-good!"

For she is ready for him, this time. He wraps his arms around her from behind, his arms trapping hers at her elbows, and she instantly draws them in like he instructed. Without waiting for his prompting, she gathers her strength and throws her head upwards and backwards, like he had shown her, and then leaps away as his arms fly open.

"Good, Nesta!" he says, eyes shining as she turns around. He isn't hurt; he keeps moving away for this one so she doesn't do any real damage. "You would've hit his neck there...normally, I'd say go for the chin, but neck's really good...at that speed, with that force, really good..." He grins broadly at her, his first smile of the morning, and after an hour of being in instructor-Cassian's presence, she blinks at the easy switch.

"You did really well," he says, after handing her a glass of water. "Did you...how was it for you?"

She shrugs slightly. "All right." It wasn't fun. But it was hardly suffering. And the movements, following Cassian's instructions...a good way to keep herself focused.

"Would you...do you want to continue?" His voice is casual, but from the careful way he does not meet her eyes, she can tell he is tense.

"Yes," she says, trying to keep her voice casual too.

He brightens, and something inside her dims automatically. His...elation, relief, whatever this spark is, at seeing her agree to do this...it feels, somehow, as though she is doing something wrong. She is cheating or lying. She does not deserve this, is not worthy of his joy. Of him.

"It's not healthy to do workouts every day," he says, "especially...when you're in recovery."

When you're weak, he means. When one is ill and emaciated-even if she is getting better, and trying, it's not going to be enough-never enough-

"So I think...Mondays and Tuesdays...and Thursdays and Fridays? If you'd like to do this long term, I mean."

Nesta blinks. "How long-term?"

He shrugs. "Till you want to stop, I guess."

She purses her lips slightly. "Don't you have...I mean, will you be able to do this four times a week, indefinitely? Don't you have..." An occupation, she wants to say. Running the strongest military on their island, maybe one of the strongest in the world. "You don't have the time," she decides on instead.

He does it again. His deep hazel eyes latch onto hers and don't let her go. She doesn't have a prayer of looking away until he lets her. There's not enough self-defense lessons in the world for her to be strong enough to fight this off.

"I always have time for you, Nesta."

She shivers, and it doesn't have anything to do with the crisp wind under the weak October sun.

He moves his head, and lets her go.

"So tomorrow, then," he says.

"Tomorrow," she echoes. She doesn't stay to watch him fly off.

---

Nesta had done incredibly well. Spectacularly. And she had looked even better.

He had stayed up half the night before, wondering if she was going to show up in pants. She hadn't, but the skirt she had worn had gone only to her knees. The shortest he'd seen her in by far. And her black top...like a second skin. A healthier skin, almost normal. Not translucent any longer. Covering a softer body. More curves, like she used to have. Bones not protruding so much. Golden hair shining in the dim light, coiled and braided like a princess', like a queen's. She even has it up when she goes to sleep, he'd learned during her first week here. Does she ever wear it down? Only to bathe, probably. And what does she look like then, with this slight new weight, this perfect skin, this beautiful hair reaching he doesn't even know how far down...He'd only allowed himself a few moments of ogling her before violently shoving out all thoughts anywhere near the realm of lust from his mind. The training ring was not for this.

Feyre and Elain are beside themselves with happiness, as he knew they would be, when he tells them how it went.

"She agreed to more lessons," Feyre says in wonderment.

"It can only be a good thing," Elain says, tugging on a stray lock of hair.

"Yes," Feyre agrees. "But...maybe, considering...you know. Your history." She shoots him an apologetic look. "Maybe it'd be best if..."

Cassian's heart rate picks up. "You think someone else should teach her?" No, his instincts tell him. She had asked him. She wants him to do it.

But he knows he'll give in. If her sisters think it would be better...because it's her that matters. Not what he wants. What matters is her getting better.

Oh, but he knows he can be the person to help her. Or one of the people, at least. If she just lets him.

Mercifully, Feyre says, "No, no, not that. Just...maybe you could do with a chaperone? Azriel or-well, no, not Rhys. But maybe it would be good for Az to drop by occasionally...what do you think?"

"That's not a bad idea," he admits. A buffer. He could do with one.

"So, what are you teaching her, exactly?" Elain asks.

"Just some self defense. Breaking away from an assailant, today." But maybe, in time, he can convince her to do more. More general exercise, maybe even some offensive techniques. "There was something at the House," he adds. "On the wall where the Illyrians attacked."

"What?"

"This gold...thing. Covering the damage the Illyrians did to it." He clenches his jaw at the memory.

"I thought the House was magic now," Elain says. "Couldn't it have fixed itself up."

"Nesta made it," he says. "She told it she was going to fix it, so..."

The wall had been as fine as any other in the House, in any one of Rhys' homes, before the attack. Painted well, a warm beige, and decorated with any number of ornate pictures and mirrors and shelves for vases and whatnot. But now, the wall was white and bare but for the swirling metal covering the cracks and craters.

Cassian understands. If Nesta had made something for him, he'd want it to be the only thing people saw when they looked at him.

"She made something?" Feyre asks, eyes widening slightly.

"She did say she had that jewelery thing...she said she liked it."

"I never thought of Nesta as an artist before," Feyre says, quieter. "She never had any patience for painting when I showed her."

"Well, I'm sure she doesn't think of herself as an artist...I got the impression she liked it as a way to calm herself down."

"Do you think? What does she need calming down from? Is she-is she angry, do you think?"

Feyre and Elain continue to discuss Nesta and guess at her thoughts and motives while Cassian sits and desperately wishes he could only ask her.

---

Thalia asks to see her as soon as she's available, so Nesta tells Gwyn she'll see her after lunch and heads down to her office.

"Good morning," Thalia says, smiling up at her from her couch.

Nesta sits opposite her. "Hello."

"You're looking refreshed."

"I started...some self-defense. Just a little. With, um, Cassian." Does she know Cassian, Nesta wonders. Probably. He's the kind of person everyone knows.

"Really?" Thalia says, sounding impressed. "How wonderful!"

Nesta shrugs a little.

"Well, I think that comes at a perfect time, actually."

Nesta's eyes shoot up. "Why?" she asks, wary.

"I think I've settled on an idea to help you tackle your goals. I wanted to know what you think."

"All right," Nesta says, after a beat. "What is it?"

Thalia tilts her head back slightly, chin set. Oh, this should be good. "What do you think about keeping a log and schedule of trying new things?"

She sucks in her bottom lip before saying, "Trying new things? How does that help me with my goals?" It seems like Thalia is trying to push her own agenda over actually helping Nesta achieve hers.

"It'll get you in the habit of doing things you aren't used to," Thalia says, patient. "It'll keep you focused on something. It might bring new joys or interests into your life, perhaps personally, or perhaps by bonding with others. And it'll greatly increase your confidence and self-esteem."

Nesta blinks. "That's not one of my goals."

"I know, dear. It's one of mine."

Nesta looks down. "It's..." She forces herself to say the words she would normally just drown in inside her own mind. "Just hard to remember sometimes."

"What's hard to remember?" Gentle, not prodding.

She swallows hard. It sounds so stupid inside her head. How will it sound out loud? "That I'm actually supposed to...get better. Sometimes it feels like that's the wrong thing to do." She bites her tongue-she hadn't meant for that part to come out.

But Thalia never acts like what she's saying is pathetic, even if it is.

"How does it feel wrong?"

Nesta sighs. Not out of irritation over the question, just because she isn't quite sure how to answer. "It's...I don't know. Sometimes one just knows a thing is wrong."

"Hm," Thalia says. Considering, thoughtful. "Well, at any rate, your self-defense lesson today can count as your new thing for the day."

"Well-wait, for the day? You want me to do one new thing per day?"

Thalia's lip quirk. "How often did you think I was asking you?"

"I don't know. A week, maybe."

"I don't think so. Once a day, please. Don't forget to track them all. Write them down. Run along, now, Nesta, and if you could take these books with you? Thank you."

Gwyn finds her putting Thalia's books back on the fifth level. "So, how did it go with Thalia? And with your training session with Lord Cassian?"

Lord Cassian. She'll never get used to that. "News travels fast, I see," she says primly.

"You know it does. How did it go?"

"It went...all right."

"Which one?" Gwyn takes a book from Nesta's hands and puts it on a shelf over her head.

"Both of them. Actually, I think the lesson with Cassian went better," she says in surprise, after reflecting. "And it wasn't training. It was just some self-defense."

"Same difference. What happened with Thalia?"

"She's making me try one new thing a day."

"One per day? Every day?" Gwyn shudders. "I can't believe you go along with everything she says. All her meetings and exercises and now this self-defense...You must be four times as brave as I am, at least."

Nesta winces.

"What are you going to do?" Gwyn continues, either not noticing Nesta's discomfort or respectfully ignoring it. "For your new things, I mean."

"I don't know," Nesta says, weighing two books, as if debating between her options for tomorrow and all the tomorrows after. "I guess...try every fruit I haven't?" Gwyn laughs. "I don't know what she expects me to do."

"I'm sure you'll think of things. You're...you'll do better than the rest of us. You do better than the rest of us. It's so obvious, how much you want to live." She says it confidently, assuredly, her teal eyes set.

Nesta bites her lip. "I did really want to live," she says quietly. That night in Hybern. She had fought with everything she had. The whole way to the Cauldron, and even after, inside it. She hadn't stopped. "I...can't..."

"I know," Gwyn says, voice soft as Nesta's. "You can't remember why. It's all right. You will. I can tell."

Nesta blinks rapidly. She's not about to cry. She's not. She just...she doesn't know what she is.

"I can't believe it's not even noon," she mumbles.

Gwyn chuckles. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your day's hardly going to be a quiet one. Calliope wants you all afternoon."

She likes Calliope, generally, so that's not so awful. "For what?"

Gwyn shrugs. "Sorting through her papers, probably. Maybe she wants you as an assistant."

If Nesta gets assigned to a High Priestess, than she doesn't have to do these menial tasks anymore. Of course, there's no promise that the priestess she'll be assisting won't have her own miserable things for her to do...Merrill, Gwyn's priestess, is a royal pain, Nesta knows...

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Gwyn says. "Wearing your dress backwards or eating starfruit."

"Ha," Nesta says flatly.

Gwyn laughs once more before going, unbound copper hair flowing behind her.

She's wrong, Nesta knows, about her being braver than anyone else. About her being brave at all. All she's doing now is what other people are telling her. Go see Calliope in her office, Nesta. Come sit with Thalia on the third level, Nesta. Tell Clotho if you liked Daphne's lecture, Nesta. Simple motions, simple movements. Nothing brave about it.

"Now again on the left, Nesta. Good. Good."

It's Thursday morning, and Cassian is the one ordering her about. Sometimes she thinks he sounds like any one of the priestess, with how he talks to her in these lessons, which makes her feel...she isn't sure. It's odd, certainly. Considering all the ways they used to talk to each other. Barbed insults, right in the House, to the other end of the spectrum. The words that cycle in her head some nights, the newest among them being I always have time for you, Nesta...and, of course, intermittent praises from when she does well.

"Excellent. Keep your torso just like that...now with your arms just as I-yes!"

There's really not any bravery required, Nesta decides. Not when the priestesses are all eager to do anything that encourages the girls to, well, do anything, and not when Cassian is...himself. Even now that Azriel, the member of her sister's circle Nesta is wont to consider her favorite if only because he never talks to her, has started showing up for a few minutes every session. Even he, with his face more closed off than Amren's (back when they were on speaking terms), and those dark shadows of his...even he does not discourage her.

Their hour ends, and he watches her drink two glasses of water-discreetly, drinking some himself, too-before turning to leave.

"Um," she says, voice slightly louder than it needs to be.

He pauses. Turns. Waits.

She can't look away again-his eyes-but she has to say something, doesn't she? What was it she was going to say?

"I seem to be doing well," she blurts out. Then flushes crimson.

He grins. "You're doing very well, Nesta."

She smooths her skirt, as if that'll somehow help her regain composure. "What I mean is," she says, voice hopefully not wobbly, "these...lessons...seem to be doing me good."

His grin gets smaller, but his eyes grow soft. "I...am very glad to hear that."

"I mean they help me feel...better. I feel better. Stronger. And I don't get so distracted all the time. And I...don't think about drinking so much." That's true, she realizes. In fact, she hasn't wanted a drink since...Monday? Sunday? She can't even be sure.

Cassian inhales sharply. "Good," he says, rather faint. "That's...that's so good, Nesta."

"So I was wondering if maybe you thought that...because I thought...well, I-I don't know, but maybe..." Stammering, tripping over her own words, it's just-

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

She nearly gasps, the words playing in her mind so clear in his eyes it's almost as though she can hear him saying them aloud.

"I thought maybe some other girls would like to join. If you don't mind. Having some more of us."

Cassian blinks. "I...I don't. I don't mind at all. I think that's a great idea, actually."

"Well, I also thought," Nesta starts, encouraged, "that since, you know, you've wanted that female Illyrian legion for so long-" he blinks again, evidently unaware that she knows that-"maybe you could also see if some Illyrian girls wanted to join. Just to see if they have a taste for...any of this."

Cassian's mouth falls open slightly and his hand goes to his forehead. "I...can't believe I never thought of this myself, actually," he admits. "Self-defense as a sort of gateway...that's actually really fucking brilliant, Nesta."

She huffs a sound of amusement at his swearing; it's been so long since she's heard any curse, as the priestesses are all so pious and proper. He starts at the sound.

"Well," she says, ducking her head to busy herself with her skirt so he doesn't see her color again. "I have to go bathe and..."

"Oh, yeah. All right. Well...so Monday? With some other girls?"

"If they want," Nesta says. "I don't know if anyone will want..."

"Well, you just let them know. Maybe ask Clotho..."

"I will. And...will you go to that camp? Windhaven?"

"Windhaven?" he asks.

"I met a shopkeeper..."

"Emerie?"

"Oh," she says. "You know her."

"She's the only female shopkeeper," he says. "We've met."

"I talked to her a little. I think she might be interested. I think she has some friends who might like it, too."

"Oh," he says, surprised. "I didn't know...I assumed-well, never mind. All right, Nesta. Goodbye, then. And great idea, really. And..." he trails off. She looks up to see him smiling. "You did really well. I mean it."

She nods, just once. But then she says, "Thank you."

She can't quite believe she said that. But judging by the way his grin widens enough to show all his teeth, it's something he's been waiting a while to hear.

[sanstropfremir]

Okay, time for my weekly rant so buckle up. The vocal stages were okay-I cant really remember them well because I watched them only once so take what I say with a grain of salt. Well I watched the Spark one once and I only got through half of the other one because I can’t stand ballads especially when there’s no interesting movement on stage to keep me engaged. Like it’s no fault of the members themselves or the song (I actually think their singing was incredibly beautiful and Eunkwang always sings like his wife just left him with the kids which is how you know he’s good) but I physically could not pay attention. That’s why I liked the spark stage a bit better-there was enough movement that I was able to focus on it. I really liked the use of the fire and the way they were walking in and out of the frame trading off parts so there weren’t too many awkward moments where the other members where on stage but not doing anything. The opening was gorgeous with each members being lit by the spotlight as they harmonize. So stagewise, I prefer Spark but vocally I think the other group was stronger. I love Spark and Taeyon is such an incredible vocalist (I mean the song is great because of her) so I don’t get why their delivery was, I don’t want to say weak, but subdued might be a better word. The only one that really stood out was Junhoe (but also that man couldn’t not stand out even if he tried, not with that incredibly rasp) and even he seemed to be holding himself back a bit. Though it was a bit slow it built up well to the two last choruses but still the first half could have been stronger. I know they were trying to draw it out to a strong pay off but I don’t really know if it was enough. And yes the suits were *chef’s kiss*. I think at this point in their career the FNC stylist has put SF9 in so many suits they’ve got it down to a science. Also I’m a sucker for those shirts with the triangle cut out and we got not one but two of them here.

Okay moving on, I’m not sure which group was next but I’ll talk about the Ikon stage. It seems like they finally realized that they’re on a performance based competition show so they decided to pull out the big guns. Love the little skit at the beginning (making sure people don’t forget that they’re YG), it was cute and refreshing. I really appreciated how they leaned into the campy acting in this stage (Stray kids did it too-just adding to the similarities between their stages). The song was meh but I also don’t really like BP especially not their recent stuff so it’s not a big deal. I would have preferred if they had gone with another song maybe Whistle or As If It’s Your Last or if they’d done a 2NE1 song like Chanwoo mentioned some point in the episode. I also think the stage would have been way smoother if they’d let Ikon and Lisa interact. Like if the boys appeared in her set after her section and then they all moved back to the first jungle set and then the whole thing turns gold and they did a dramatic outfit change (but with better jackets because theirs look like they came out of Party City). I also get what you mean about the dancers outfits not being that great. I actually really liked the outfits of Lisa’s dancers in isolation but they didn’t match with her or the set so they threw me off a bit. At least with the ikon members they were going for a modern look so the dancers outfits didn’t look that strange in comparison. Do you think it would have been better if they were white? How would you have improved then? The best way I can describe this performance was that it was a stage, stuff happened, I enjoyed myself but I don’t plan to revisit it anytime soon. Oh and we also have to give points for them cursing on national television not once but twice (at this point Jinwan deserves to say fuck).

Now to Stray Kids. So I feel like I need to preface this with the fact that I am actually a stray kids fan (I won’t call myself a stay because I don’t associate with the fandom) and though I’ve been really critical of them and their stages tend to be my least favorite I still have a soft spot for them (I got into this show because of them after all). I loved, loved, loved the intro with Felix (and yes his biggest flaw is that he’s Australian but I forgive him for it) and the way it immediately transitions into the chorus of DDD-the abrupt transition does fit really well with the Deadpool theme and I guess it is the closest they’re going to get to the feeling of yeeting themselves into traffic like in the movie. Interesting choice to start with the chorus. Now that I’m rewatching it I do really wish they stuck with the comic theme. I think that’s my gripe with SKZ-they have a lot of good ideas but they move on too quickly from them. Just pick a handful of things and sprinkle them throughout instead of cycling through them at breakneck speed. Like okay they’re doing Deadpool and he’s a comic character so keep the comic styling (it would have been a good thing to put in the projection behind Seungmin’s scene), maybe in the subway they could have had some fight choreo so the guns coming in at Lee Knows part aren’t out of nowhere (also someone please tell me they were trying to recreate the meme with the cat and the knives, please I need to know). I absolutely agree that them having a goal or an antagonist would have really helped the story along. I mean they literally have a spoken intro so why couldn’t Felix just tell us who they were fighting (and I’m pretty sure in the movie Wade tells us he’s trying to kill Francis in that scene sooo). As always they put more focus on the rappers (please can we get less Changbin and more Seungmin, Jeongin, or Lee Know or at least give Felix more parts). Seungmin was the real mvp of this stage and he had the best outfit (I think it qualifies for Hanya’s best gay little outfit list). Personally I with they hadn’t gone with Gods Menu again. I’ve been hoping that they would perform My Pace (and maybe remix it with their B-side TA off their Go Live album) because that would be such a fun stage. Again, I enjoyed myself but I won’t revisit it anytime soon. At this point the only groups I actually look forward to are BTOB and SF9 (they’re doing fucking Move and I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified-there’s a clip of Taeyang covering Move from a variety show or interview and I think he does it really well so I know at least one of them can pull it off). Again thanks for creating space where I can info dump and I hope I said something of interest to you!

i think you wrote more than me!! i love this, im gonna put my response under a cut im not being super obnoxious on the dash.

i get that the mayfly stage would be not as visually stimulating for people and usually i would count myself in with that crowd because i love a good spectacle but i think because i watched the spark stage first and my colour perception is sometimes weird so when there's a lot of movement with very little colour variation my tiny pea brain loses track of whats happening really quickly. especially with red. so it was kind of difficult for me to pay attention to the spark stage in the second half. also i absolutely HATE watching people flub on stage because it brings up such visceral secondhand feelings that i couldn't even watch the stage when i started the full episode today.

i love a good suit but you know what i would also love: sf9 in more costume variations. tbh im just getting nitpicky about it because im a costume designer down to the core and i got trained by a designer who specialized in doing avant garde costuming so i tend to skew more towards wild than reserved. it looks like the move stage wont be be suits so ill take it, but oh man to do i want to see some really crazy stuff. which i know they'll never do because idols have to be pretty at all times or the fans get mad but oh i want it so badly.

do you mean how i would improve ikon's backup dancers outfits or lisa's? here why dont i do both. for lisa's dancers i would have just done away with that harness shape all together, its almost exclusively a military style. the jackets by themselves would have been fine but really what they should have done was put them in something that matched the gold but contrasted enough to give them shape. by having at least her dancers in all black on a gold stage there was a lot of "haha look at me do a duck walk because lets throw in some voguing for spice." they could have gone with a mesh bodysuit idea similar to what she was wearing or even just different colour coats. as for ikon's backup dancers, firstly pants. not black. or even a longer skirt. genuinely a part of the reason why i dont watch girl group content is because i HATE the hem length of the shorts they make everyone wear. words cannot describe how much i hate that cut. kpop is so obsessed with showing off women's bodies and especially their legs but they do it in the LEAST flattering way possible because it "can't be too risqué," just shoot me now. i hate it. i hate it so fucking much. yea yea everybody was on cocaine in the 80s whatever but at least they were all wearing french cut bodysuits so their legs looked fantastic. stop interrupting the lines!! anyways. pants so the only section of skin showing is thigh to mid calf, especially because they weren't even doing any fun legwork! if they really wanted to keep the full sleeve bodysuits they shout have done them in a fabric with a texture or external embellishments, like a patent/vinyl or sequins/rhinestones. something to catch the stage lights so we can actually see the shape of the limb. but the easiest way to fix it is literally just cut the arms off the bodysuits. stages are lit to show off skin, sometimes the best way to have something be seen is just to have it bare.

i agreed skz cycles through ideas way too fast, they need to just pick a couple and stick them out through the stage instead of just adding more and more different ones throughout. also ok good someone else noticed that there is just...so much changbin. we don't need that much changbin. i know there's other boys in the group let them do something! also im pretty sure theyre not recreating the cat knife meme but actually the promo image from john wick chapter two, which i also could have sworn i saw a deadpool version of as an instagram ad back when movies were happening, but now that im looking for it it doesn't exist so i might be crazy.

im excited for the move stage but im also trepidatious because...its move. i have NO clue what the concept is from the previews so i just hope its weird enough to take it enough out of the taemin context for me to enjoy it.

[sparxwrites]

(the opening lines of this, i shit you not, came to me in a dream. or at least in the space between sleep and waking. mr sims, could you get your podcast out of my subconscious pls. set some time vaguely in The Future as a what-if, i guess.)

cw for vomiting, gore, body horror

[ao3]

“Maybe it’s the flu?” says Martin, anxiously, as Jon vomits into the toilet for the third night in a row.

“Maybe,” says Jon, drawing a shaking hand across his mouth, “the human body wasn’t intended to hold a god for this long.” His lips are bloody, and his voice is raw, like he’s been screaming for hours. Maybe he has. Martin’s only just gotten back, only just found him hunched over the toilet and heaving up the contents of his stomach once again.

Martin’s fingers curl into fists, release. “You’re not a god, Jon.”

“Look me in the eye, and say that again,” says Jon, quietly.

His tone isn’t cruel, but his words hit like knives. Martin hasn’t been able to look him in the eye in weeks – it hurts, too much, too sharp, the back-of-the-neck prickle it used to induce turning to the sensation of his skin being slowly flayed away. There’s too much knowing there. Jon sees enough to hurt those he beholds, now.

Martin grits his teeth, and looks Jon in the eyes. The two on his face, at least, the ones still where human eyes should be. “You’re not a god, Jon. Don’t– don’t be arrogant.”

When he finally, finally lets his gaze slide off to the side, it feels like someone’s set needles through his bones. His hands are shaking. He feels seen, down to his intestines, his marrow, the awful, rotten pits of his soul.

Jon laughs, or makes a sound that’s trying to be laughter. One of the two. He spits into the toilet, and rests his forehead against the cold plastic of the seat. Martin doesn’t need to look into the bowl to know what’s there – bile, and blood, and dinner, and vile, thumb-sized chunks of gore in amidst it all.

Stomach lining, Jon had said, the first night. Martin hadn’t questioned him. Hadn’t asked him how he knew.

“That’s… kind of you,” says Jon, softly – and for a moment, he sounds almost like himself. Almost the way he was, before his god sank the last of its hooks into him. And then, casually– “I have eyeballs on my liver, you know. My kidneys, my bowels. My heart. If you cut me open, Martin, I’d blink at you.”

“And heal pretty much immediately,” blurts Martin, though there’s a cold sinking deep into his guts. He thinks of the stomach lining still sitting in the toilet bowl, and wonders for the first time what it’s being replaced with.

“And heal,” agrees Jon, and there’s that careful, constrained flatness to his voice that means he’s on the edge of hysteria. Martin can’t look him in the eye, but he can see him out the corner of his vision, still curled over the toilet as though it might offer salvation. “…I think.”

“How do you know?” asks Martin. “About the eyes, I mean. Maybe it was just a, a dream, or a nightmare, or something–”

Jon snorts in bleak amusement, and then gags, and then vomits wet and choking into the toilet again. Martin drops to his knees, and strokes Jon’s back, and wishes he could do more than just hold his boyfriend’s fucking hair out the way as he pukes up his own body to make way for more damn eyes.

“I can… can see out of them,” says Jon, eventually. He’s panting, and there’s a string of bloody drool stretching from his lower lip to the porcelain below. He doesn’t seem to have noticed. “The eyes, I can– see. I can see inside myself, Martin.” He barks out a harsh, humourless noise, and spits a mouthful of blood. “Do you know what that’s like? How could you. I hope you never do. But– god. I can see myself. Every swallow, every– every contraction, every heartbeat.”

He reaches out, with unerring aim for someone whose head is still half in a toilet bowl – he’s getting better at using his other eyes, thinks Martin, and the thought fills him with dread for reasons he cannot fully explain. When his hand closes around Martin’s wrist, Martin can feel the eyelashes on Jon’s palm flutter against his skin as the eye there closes against the contact.

When he presses Martin’s hand to his stomach, dangerously flat and heaving with every breath, there are bumps there. That’s expected, eyes hidden beneath ill-fitting knitwear, coiling around his torso and up, up in some awful, organic spiral. But then he presses harder, his hand over Martin’s, and there are bumps below. Eyes upon eyes, lurking beneath like awful, clustered tumours, bulging out from the depths of Jon’s viscera and blinking hungrily beneath flesh and muscle.

���Oh god,” says Martin, faintly – because he can’t think of anything else to say, because what the fuck else can he say. “Jon…”

“Maybe,” says Jon, spitting again, swallowing audibly against another heave. Martin can’t look him in the eye – it’s killing him, but he can’t – but he can still see Jon’s crooked grin in his peripheral vision. It’s a mad sort of expression, made madder still by the blood on his lips. “Maybe you should cut me open, Martin, and look me in the eyes, and tell me I’m not a god then.”

He taps fingers, gently, over his heart. The triplet of small, watery eyes on the back of his left hand flutter with every touch.

Then his body jerks, a roll of nauseated motion that starts at his stomach and rolls its way up to his mouth. His throat works, but nothing comes up, other than a thick sliver of slick-red flesh. He gasps, in the aftermath, like there isn’t enough air in his lungs.

Martin wonders if it’s still just stomach lining in the toilet bowl.

“Stop,” says Martin, and the strength of his voice, the way it shakes, surprised even him. “Just– stop, Jon, don’t… don’t say that. God, don’t say that.”

He reaches out, both hands curled into Jon’s sweater, and drags him into his arms, risk of being puked on be damned. Jon smells of sweat, and vomit, and sour fear, and Martin still buries his face in his hair and holds him. As though holding him will fix this. As though holding him tight enough will squeeze the poison from Jon’s body.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” he says, again, quieter, his nose full of the rank smell of sick, unwashed human. Human. “This is– it’s a lot. I know it’s a lot. And I’m so, so sorry. But… you’re a person. You’re a person, Jon. It’s not right.”

Jon laughs, and then sobs, and then heaves up a trickle of bile-or-blood-or-both against Martin’s front. “Am I, though?” he asks, and his voice is cracked, mad, his fingers curling against Martin’s chest hard enough to bruise. “Is that really what I am?”

“Yes,” says Martin, firmly, though he believes himself less with every passing day. When he rubs Jon’s back, he feels every node of his spine, and every bump of the eyes wound around it. “Yes. That’s what you are. A person, Jon. Not a god. A person.”

They sit there – on the floor of the bathroom, surrounded by the stench of sickness and ascension – until Jon stops throwing up, and until Martin stops crying. By the time they leave, the sun is rising, and Jon is too weak to walk unaided, and Martin cannot stop thinking about the knife in the kitchen and the eyes on Jon’s heart.

[loser-writings]

Tristful ||Angst || Dabi x reader

Reader: Gender Neutral

Character: Dabi x Reader (Romantic) Toga x Reader (platonic) LoV x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Death, mention of self harm, possible OOC characters, Platonic affection between an adult and a minor. 

Summary: The league of Villains remember you a year after your death, and two are still dealing with the pain of you being gone.

A/N: I don’t know why Dabi is the one getting the attention, but he is. Welcome to the first true angst that was written at 4:30AM after some serious crying.

3/15. One of the worst days for the League of Villains. Toga would be crying all day, Magne would be doing her best to help comfort Toga, Shigaraki would be a bit more irritable, and Dabi would be completely absent. Shigaraki had managed to find Dabi though after hearing a voice that he didn’t think he would hear ever again. 

“Hey baby! I know you might think this is stupid since yknow, I’m working and Boss would kill me if he saw me on my phone, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll be coming home a bit later tonight.”

Shigaraki had remembered you. How you managed to befriend everybody in the league with your natural charisma as well as your singing that filled the halls. Sure, he may have scolded you for it before, but he didn’t mean it. It was like you both knew that deep down, so you never stopped singing. His heart ached a little as he listened again once your voice picked up again.

“They’re on your tail too by the way. I’d stay indoors for a while and let me handle everything that involves going in public. I don’t think I could handle having you taken from me.” 

Then you laughed. The same laugh that you did when you were stressed, but trying to hide it. It was obvious that under your happy persona you put on for your hero work, you were deeply troubled. Some nights ended up with you breaking down to different members of the league, but the main two that helped you through it all was Dabi and Toga. Thanks to you, the two found comfort in each other when you were gone. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you go darling. Be as good as you can be. At least until I get home-” “Hey! Get back to work!” “S-Sorry sir! Calling my roommate to make sure that I didn’t leave the oven on.” 

The voice of the eldest Todoroki boomed through the speakers before it cut off, a sigh coming from Dabi before the creek of the bed. Shigaraki could only guess what the other was thinking, so he just knocked to alert the other before walking in. He was met with Dabi laying on his back, staring at the ceiling blankly. 

“You okay?”

“Want an honest answer or the one you want to hear?” 

Shigaraki scoffed and rolled his eyes before moving to stand by the bed. “You’re of no good use to me when you’re all mopey like this. Kinda depressing honestly.” He snapped while the other promptly flipped him off. Shigaraki smiled a little before sitting on the edge of the bed. “They would hate to see you like this.-” “Yeah and I sure fucking hate not having them here to yell at me for it.” Dabi huffed and rubbed at his eyes before sitting back up. “Believe it or not, but I miss them too. I miss our bickering and how they would sing at ungodly hours. I miss how they would play fight in the bar with Toga. I miss their contagious laughter, but all we can do now is continue for our goal. A world where Heroes get what they deserve when they harm the innocent. A world where people like us don’t have to worry. A world where-” “A world where innocent people don’t get murdered and then the murderer is praised for it.” Dabi sighed and moved to run his hands through his hair. “Exactly. A world where Endeavor gets what he deserved. He found out, and he didn’t hold back.” 

They both remembered that day. They remembered seeing it on the news in Kurogiris’ bar that Endeavor had found another member of the League of Villains. Not really a big deal since they assumed it was just another pawn, but when they disclosed your name, quirk, and status, they were all in shock. They framed you to be a traitor, the bad person when in reality, you were the most “Normal” one out of everybody. You had no Ill intentions when you gave them the information they wanted, yet they praised Endeavor for “Subduing the threat.” Little did they all know, you wouldn’t wake up from the coma he put you in. In their mind, they murdered you. 

The worst part was that they couldn’t really get in to see you. Sure, Kurogiri would sneak them in to see you for short periods, but they were no longer than 5 minutes due to the risk of somebody walking into the room. Toga managed to go in one day during visiting hours, holding your hand and talking to you until visiting hours ended. Nobody would've believed that it was the bloodthirsty girl from her appearance alone since her blonde hair was down, her eyes were bloodshot and red from crying, and her normally loud voice was barely a whisper. When the doctors asked her about your relationship with her, she just smiled a little, wiped her tears, and said you were their best friend. She left you a few gifts and kissed your forehead before blinking away tears as she thanked the nurses for doing their best as she left the room. When she got back to the hideout, she just locked herself in her room and didn’t respond to anybody. It wasn’t the first true loss in her life, but it was the most painful. Her cries and screams for you didn’t fall on deaf ears either since it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for somebody to walk through with wet eyes.

The day you were announced dead had to be one of the most depressing. Details of your funeral that was being held for anybody to attend flashed on the television before going back to what was playing originally. Despite the day being grey and rainy, everyone in the league went to see you one last time and wish you goodbye. When they saw your plain casket, Twice made a comment about how you deserved better before snapping about how it was lame as hell. Nobody minded though since they knew he couldn’t help it. Toga wiped her tears as they approached the casket before sighing softly. She clutched the stuffed bear you had given her tight in her hands before choking back a sob. This was unfair. Why did everybody she love get taken away from her? Her hand softly rest on the wood before choking back another sob. She wanted to hold you again. She wanted to hug you again and have you tell her that everything would be okay, but the hand of Magne broke her out of her delusions as she broke down in tears again, falling to the ground and screaming out in pain. Magne was quick to hug her to her chest, trying to comfort the young girl the best she could despite her own tears. 

Shigaraki did feel a bit numb to the situation, but he had been finding his mind wondering to you as time went on. Now that your casket was in front of him, he couldn’t help but find himself missing you a little more. One by one, everybody left their gifts for you before going back to the hideout to grieve in private. By the end, the only ones left were Dabi, Shigaraki, and Kurogiri. None of them spoke, just standing in the rain until Dabi broke the silence. “Come back for me in five. I need time alone with them.” The two agreed before leaving Dabi alone with only your casket and his thoughts. 

He moved to sit in front of the wooden box for a minute before he just choked out a chuckle, covering his eyes as he found them watering. “Why?” He asked out loud before shaking his head again. “Why the FUCK must he take everything from me?” Dabi asked out loud as he felt the rage wash over him. He already hated Endeavor for everything he had done in his past, but now he took you too. He quickly wiped away the tears before he grabbed his hair, tugging on it softly to mimic how you would rake your hands through his hair to calm him from his nightmares. “I thought you said you wanted to figure shit out? That we would make it past all of this and that neither one of us would leave? You fucking coward, You broke that goddamn promise!” He didn’t mean it, but he knew he was speaking to the world more than anything else. “Goddamn it...We were supposed to make it to the end…” He leaned back in his chair before looking at the casket again. “You got my fucking hopes up...for a future I don’t deserve.” he sighed and shook his head again. “And you didn’t deserve this either.” He wiped off the scarred burns under his eyes, the staples burning a bit from the tears but it was oddly comforting. After sitting for a moment, he heard Kurogiri behind him again. He simply sighed before standing to pull out the velvet box from his pocket. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re not hurting anymore.” he sat the box down on the lap of Togas bear, staring at it for a moment before sighing. “Maybe one day...we can be normal. Have a family together...like we promised.” he said before placing his hand on the wood just as Toga did before. “I’ll watch her too...So don’t worry.” He moved to kiss the top of the box before pulling away. “I love you doll...I think I always will.” he chuckled sadly and started walking away, sighing as he walked through the portal with Kurogiri following after. 

The next few weeks were hard. Dabi had kept his promise to you and kept an eye on Toga, finding her passed out one day after she had a large fit which resulted in her hurting herself with her knives. Luckily they had a spare medkit and you had taught him how to do basic first aid. Slowly, Shigaraki had managed to create a new task for the league and everybody slowly got back on their feet. It was what you would have wanted anyway. Yet at your one year death date, here everyone was all gloomy. 

Dabi sighed once more before looking at his phone, speaking to Shigaraki once more. “I have a ton of voice mails from them saved. I have all of our texts. I have videos and pictures of them. Sometimes, it just feels like they were here yesterday.” He sighed as the other man just nodded. “Yeah...I still find myself thinking of them. It’s not the same, but one day it’ll all be worth it.” Dabi slowly nodded before another soft knock was at the door, the blonde slowly walking in before noticing Shigaraki already inside. “Oh...Sorry for barging in. I uh...Just was going to ask to steal one of their shirts for the night and maybe ask for you to just...Hold me for a bit.” She sighed and shook her head, rubbing at her puffy eyes. Dabi slowly got up and nodded, walking to the closet to pick out your favorite large shirt before tossing it to Toga. She took it and smiled a little at the memories. “Uh...Thanks. I’ll come back when you’re done talking.” She said as she smiled a little at them. Shigaraki sighed and stood. “Nah, I think we are done. You both need to rest anyway. Recover as much as you can and remember, this is motivation.” Dabi rolled his eyes before sighing. “Sure, now leave us alone you fucking raisin.” Toga couldn’t help but chuckle at Dabi’s retort as Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He waved before leaving the room. Toga sighed and tossed off her shirt, knowing Dabi didn’t care since he saw her as more of a sister than anything else, before pulling on your shirt. 

“Do you think that we could leave flowers on their grave tomorrow? I wanna talk to them and catch them up to speed since we haven’t talked in over a year.” Toga spoke before moving to lay in Dabi’s bed as the other stripped off his jacket. “Sure, we can do that. I bet they’ll appreciate it.” She hummed as Dabi laid next to her before she curled up against his chest, sighing at his warmth before hugging him a bit tighter. His hand played with her blonde locks before he yawned, moving to kiss her head softly. “You know they loved you right?” Toga asked which only got a chuckle from Dabi. “Yeah. Y’know that we had plans to adopt you after we won against the heroes?” Her eyes shot open and she sat up a little. “Really?!” He simply nodded and pulled her back down. “We thought you would want a family that cared. So they brought up adoption, and I agreed.” Toga felt her eyes water before she moved to snuggle in his chest again. “I would’ve loved that…” She sniffled before hugging him tighter. “I wouldn’t have been able to ask for a better family…” Dabi simply sighed and went back to playing with her hair. “Well...I’ll still adopt you when this is all over. Just give it some time?” She nodded and felt herself growing sleepy. “Okay…” He hummed and continued to pet her, watching as she slowly fell asleep snuggling into his chest. 

He couldn’t help but shut his eyes and sigh. When he met this brat, she was just some girl who was crazy, yet now he was holding her and speaking of adoption. You would’ve adored seeing how close the two had gotten and how they trusted each other. For a moment, he felt like you were watching from wherever, smiling at the sight and praising him. He could almost hear it as he pulled Toga closer, holding her protectively. “It’ll all be okay…” He reassured the sleeping girl. “We got this...We will make it through for them.”

[marvel-ousnesss]

Flesh, not porcelain - part ll (Geralt x reader)

Request:  Hi! I don’t know if you are still taking requests but if you do, would you mind writing a witcher x reader where the reader and Geralt have been in a relationship before but somehow lost contact and now they see each other again after so long and they are both shy and afraid of “their love”. But in the end, they know they can’t be together?  Thank you so much if you do write it( please tag me 🙏🏻)

A/N: Okay, so here's the second part of @lareinedususpense​'s  request. Tell me what you think and ask me if you wanna be tagged on upcoming writings. I still don't know where it takes place when it comes to the timeline. 

Part I

Masterlist

“Princess!" 

Among the screaming voices that echoed through the ballroom, you could make out the one coming from your guards, who were now in a fighting stance, with swords ready and worried faces under their helmets. However, your legs didn't obey when you tried to move. 

Geralt pushed you behind him as you processed what was happening. The nobles had risen against the crown, which meant that your life and your family's were at stake. Your eyes drifted from face to face, trying to locate your family among the sea of nobles and guards, traitors and allegiants who were now fighting in defense of their respective causes. Your breath hitched when you found them, and the person conducting the whole mess.

Lord de Barra had his right hand locked around your sister’s arm and his blade threatening to kiss her neck. His men had your parents captive; and Aldestier, who had insisted on attending the ceremony without his elite escort, was struggling to free himself from a man you recognized as one of your father's most trusted advisors - former advisors, that is. 

Geralt growled menacingly at the men who advanced toward you, grabbing two silver knives he had been carrying on his belt. Without hesitation, he fought everyone who came at him, making it almost impossible for them to reach you. 

With horror you watched the men who your family had trusted slay those who were willing to die protecting the crown. You tried to look away, but your eyes were incapable of avoiding the bloodbath that had resulted from what was supposed to be a night of celebration and joy. 

You sobbed and wailed in silence, completely unable to do anything, until one of the quisling guards managed to sneak behind Geralt and grab you by the hair, dragging you toward the center of the room. You cried out in pain, causing Geralt's fall. He turned to look at you and launched himself at the man who had taken you, but Alatar, the mage of your kingdom's court, threw a spell his way, making his limbs freeze.  

The guards secured their grip on you and Ducarious found your gaze. He calmly made his way to you, dragging your sister with him, and spoke, beaming darkly. 

"Let’s get this over with," he scowled. His dagger was still pressed to your sister's neck. She looked at you, and your parents with glassy eyes; only to see that the men holding them had mimicked their leader's precaution, just like the guards who had you.  

 They were about to kill you on the spot, Alatar knew this, so, with remorse of his betrayal, he spoke up. 

"Wait! Lord de Barra, your grace, I beg for your mercy.”

“No mercy is to be granted for this man and his kind; what he did is unforgivable.” The young man’s words were full of anger and thirst for blood. However, you did not comprehend what terrible, unforgivable deed had your father committed for such vengeance to take place. 

“Ducarious, please, don’t let anger cloud your judgment. Your brother caused the people great pain;” the king’s eyes were kind, but the noble leading the uprising only showed himself more aggravated. 

He spoke with gritted teeth, “do not dare speak of my brother, you monster!”

Your lips parted as you saw it all clearly. His own uncle had been the one who proposed the death sentence for his younger brother, and you had overheard some maidens gushing about how he had agreed. His actions, and his lousy cover, were no surprise to you. 

Given his hubris, Ducarious was capable of doing anything to obtain power, and he had always had a way with words. Nevertheless, you couldn’t imagine what he had promised the nobles to bring them all together against your family; for your parents were known for ruling fairly and with kindness above all. 

Alatar’s voice cut through the silence once again; “I completely understand that this man is not fit to rule such great kingdom and that he has hurt you on unimaginable ways, but killing him would not make amends with the past, it ends his suffering way to easily.”

He practically spit the words, he was unable the disgust he was feeling toward himself. Alatar had always been great friends with your family, so Ducarious must've found a way of blackmail for him to stab your parents in the back. 

 “Then what, mage, what is it that you suggest?”

Alatar sighed, catching your father’s eye; the pain in his words was practically tangible. “Exile, your grace, don’t let any of them place afoot in this kingdom ever again; there’s no greater punishment.”

Lord the Barra paced around the room, after leaving your sister with another one of his men. 

“No.”

He was as thoughtful and crafty, as he was ruthless. You knew that he wouldn’t settle with such a simple plot. 

“Here’s what is to happen," he declared. "You are all banished from my kingdom. Not only will you be slain if you set foot in here again, but if you ever cross paths with my people, they are expected to shoot and kill, and will be generously rewarded for it. From the hunter to the beast; that, I call punishment.”

And so, it happened. You were kicked out of the place you had called home your whole life; with nothing but the clothes, you had on. In cuffs and chains, you were all taken to the stables by your own guards - the ones who were still alive - and given a horse and ordered to take off. 

About ten months ago, you had fled your land without knowing where to go, and, to be honest, it would be a lie to say that it hadn’t been hell. With the absence of luxury, you could deal; the worst part was separating from your family, for you had decided that together you were a bigger target, easier to hit. 

You kept in touch through codes and occasional letters addressed to false personas, at least you knew they were okay. Aldestier had negotiated with Ducarious but had only been able to save your sister's life. As for your parents, they raised enough money to get a chariot and, according to their last letter, were planning on traveling around as merchants. You, however, hadn't yet made a life for yourself. 

Sighing, you took a sip of your ale, then a bite of your bread. Six pm, a little bit late to have breakfast; you mentally shrugged, getting rid of the thought. You were exhausted, it had been a long day of traveling and you couldn’t be happier that it was coming to an end. You left a few coins on the table and headed out; walking in the direction in which you thought the hostel was. 

That’s when you saw him. Before you approached, you took in the scene before you. Geralt was walking quite slowly, next to Roach. His silver hair was tied in a loose bun, and his pace was sloppy, tired; but you paid no mind. His armor was scarred, marked with the years of use; yet he carried it so effortlessly that, by this point, it was as if it moved with him. 

“Can’t believe the little shits still sicced on. Fucking stupid, really,” scoffed the witcher; and the mare snorted as if snickering right back at him. 

“I know, no fucking brains. Throwing themselves at us like that; as if we had anything that could interest them,” once again, Roach replied with a soft snort and a head shake. 

 "Don’t judge me, I tried to warn them, but they came at me. Wasted lives, really.“

You couldn’t help but overhear what he was saying, and despite the somber nature of the story, you found it sort of amusing for a man so aloof and dangerous to be talking to his horse. 

"Almost didn’t recognize you without a beer in hand,” you greeted. 

Hearing your voice, he stopped in his tracks and turned around, smiling slightly. “Your highness, it’s been a while.”

You chuckled dryly, ”just Y/N is fine, not ‘your highness’ anymore.“

Even if you said it with a humorous tint, the words left your lips with a sense of nostalgia. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The sincerity of his words brought a soft smile to your lips.

You walked in silence, but didn’t want your encounter to entail such a short and meaningless conversation; so you inquired, “what have you been up to, since the last time we met?” 

“Those are stories you wouldn’t like to hear about,” his eyes remained locked on the dimly lit path you were walking through. His voice was dry. 

“You can talk to me, you know that.” 

He breathed, “Some villagers, they launched themselves at me, drunk; there were eight of them, I think. Took out their daggers and attacked.”

You grabbed your skirts, trying to make walking a bit easier. No avail, your feet were burning. Your horse had fallen ill; it was nothing major, according to the healer who had seen him, but he could no longer endure such travels. You were forced to sell him to a farmer, who had set his eye on him for his children. 

“I didn’t- I tried to stop them, to stop myself, but I ended up losing control;” grumbled the Witcher. “ended up being the monster that they painted me as.”

Unbelievable. You glared at him, “For your sake, and mine, I’m gonna pretend the last ten words didn’t fucking come out of your mouth.” 

“I fucking killed them, Y/N,” he argued. 

“And they almost fucking killed, you, Geralt” you countered, your voice rising with disbelief. 

He didn't say anything else; opting, instead, to look at you deeply, trying to find the reason for which you cared. 

Silence remained for a few minutes, but then he stopped walking. You were about to ask him, but looked at the path; the pair of you were standing in front of a crossroad. 

Your confused expression gave you away. 

“You have nowhere to go.”

You huffed; “actually, I do have a wonderful room waiting for me at the hostel, thank you very much.”

“We walked past the hostel a mile ago.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that ten fucking minutes ago?,” you groaned, glaring at him. However, in the Witcher’s eyes, you were perkier than you were intimidating. 

You turned back around, but Geralt grabbed your forearm gently; he chuckled, “I’m going to the hostel too." 

"Then why would-”

“Next time, don’t follow someone, even if you know them, without being sure where they’re going. Dopplers enjoy playing lonely travelers." 

His ember eyes bore into yours for a second, then he let go. 

You crossed the wooden door and approached the woman behind the desk. As a subject of payment, you placed a silver bracelet over the table; "That should cover both of our rooms for a few days.”

She looked at you quizzically but handed you two keys. Without a word, you began walking toward the rooms, slightly behind Geralt, it was then when it came to your attention that something was off with his right leg. You didn’t say anything until he stopped in front of a door; instead of continuing, you walked inside with him. 

His eyes were tired and expectant, as stood in front of you, motionless.

“Let me take care of you.”

He tried to explain, “listen, your high– I mean, Y/N; I don't see you that way. But, thanks for the offer."  

"Not sex, Geralt, for fuck’s sake,” you grimaced, “I just want to take care of your leg; you’ve practically stumbled your way here.”

“No need." 

"Have you forgotten how stubborn I am?" you teased.

He sighed in surrender, but you were quick to see the smile briefly gracing his features. " No, I haven't, but I'm fine."

“Bullshit."

He quirked a brow. 

You stepped forward, getting closer to him. "If your leg is truly as good as new, it won’t hurt if I do this;” your left foot collided with his shin and both of you groaned in pain. Was this man-made of fucking Iron? 

“Fine,” he grumbled, stepping back. 

You forced your eyes to stay down as you heard the witcher discarding his armor and getting ready for you to take a look at his leg. You damped one of the rags you had fetched in a bucket of water and made sure the bandages were enough and in a decent state.   

You asked, “are you presentable?” 

He hummed, so you lifted your gaze. Geralt was sitting on the bed, wearing a loose linen shirt and the same breeches he had before. 

You blushed, swallowing hard. “You’ll need to remove those if you want me to take a look at whatever’s wrong with your leg.”

He began taking his pants off, so you averted your gaze once again.

He quietly chuckled at your antics, hoping you didn't hear; but the croaky sound only made your face darken another shade. Clearly, he had noticed how flushed the sight of him had made you. 

"Thank you," you turned to look at him, "for letting me do this."

Geralt hummed, relocating himself exactly in the same positions as before. This time, however, with his leg exposed, the rest was covered only by a sheet. 

You took a deep breath as you scanned the scene before you but strictly centered your attention on the part of his body that you were meaning to mend. As you had supposed, his right leg had a tapestry of bruises, - some of which had certainly not been caused by the villagers he told you about -, and an open wound on the external part of his thigh. To be frank, the damage was too messy, animalistic; so you just assumed it had been a matter of occupational hazards. 

“For the monstrous bruising you got there, I don’t know what to do.” You moved the bucket to the side of the bed and, with a motion of your hands, prompted him to move a bit. “But the open, nasty wound; that one, I can fix.”

You drained the rag and placed it over the injury that, you assumed, was a bite. He didn’t move or speak, he just tensed his muscles whenever the rag hit a nerve. Every time he did this, you quietly apologized, to which he responded with either a grumble or a breathy 'it's fine.' Quietly humming, you repeated the procedure a few times before coming to the conclusion that, if it was to heal completely and properly, you would have to clean it more thoroughly.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

"Where are you going?" he asked, but you had already left. 

"Just wait," you shouted from the other side of the hall. 

As fast as you could, as to not keep Geralt waiting, you went to the small bar in front of the hostel and fetched a bottle of vodka, leaving a few coins as payment. Then, you ran back to the hostel and sprinted back to the witcher's room. You had never been agile when it came to running in a dress; so, with a surprised scream, in the hall that led to your destination, you fell face-first against the cold, stone floor. 

Geralt heard your scream and came to your rescue, with the sheet tightly wrapped around his waist. He helped you up and took you to his room, with the bottle still in your hand. 

“I think I told you not to move,” you teased, 

He just scoffed, so you continued.

“For your information, I had it all under control.” 

He placed you on his bed, carefully accommodating your head in one of the pillows. 

“Yeah, I saw that when I heard you scream.” 

He drained one of the rags and handed it to you. Rolling your eyes, you sat up and pressed it against your jaw, which had received quite a hit. 

You scoffed, “it was nothing, just a small exclamation of surprise." 

He hummed, soaking and draining another rag, handing it to you. You left the previous one on the wooden table and continued to apply pressure on the sore spot, hoping that way you'd avoid getting a bruise. 

"Besides, I still have to clean that nasty cut of yours; can’t make all of this a waste of effort.”

“I'm fine." 

He was adamant, you knew, but you persisted. 

"Yeah, if by fine you mean hobbling." You stood up but frowned slightly when your right foot came in contact with the ground. 

How ironic. You brushed it off. Fixing your stance so almost no weight resting on your sore foot, you instructed the witcher to take your previous place on the bed, and, to your surprise, he complied without a word.

He loosened the sheet so that the cotton left his leg exposed, but the way in which his frame was contoured almost made your breath hitch. The fact that it was the second time you saw him like that didn’t make it easier; it was truly difficult to concentrate with the sight of the godlike man before you. 

With a sharp intake of air, you began to work. Even with his pain tolerance, he hissed and groaned every time you soaked the rag and brushed his skin. Intending to distract him, you decided to strike a conversation, even if there was the chance that he would consider it intrusive.  

"How did you get these?" 

 "Selkie maw, a few days ago." 

"What’s a seckymore?" You took a sip of the bottle, almost coughing when the burning sensation hit your throat. You had already mixed part of it with the water in the bucket, so drinking what was left meant no harm. 

"Selkie maw,” he corrected. “It’s like a salamander: but with a few hundred teeth, and the size of a small dragon." 

"Cute,” your tone was bitter. 

You took another swing and offered the drink to him. He accepted it, drowning half of what was left in a single zip. “Sorry,” he looked at the bottle and handed it to you, you tauntingly glared at him as you drained the rag over his wound once again. 

“Not that big of a monster, they usually feed on plankton.“

With a final stroke of the rag, you finished cleaning his open wound and proceeded to stitch it with the needle and thread spool you always carried in your small bag. 

Biting your lip in concentration, you asked, "do you get scared of monsters, or are you just that stoic?”

He took his time to answer, carefully choosing his words; “wouldn’t call it fear. It’s just knowing that, if you get slow, you die. More like a rush; you know what to expect, so there's a certain calm in it too." 

You made a small knot at the end of the thread, and grabbed the bandage, wrapping his leg. 

"There, all done.” You reached for his pants and threw them his way. 

“Thank you,” he said, as he grabbed the garment and adjusted his position to put it on while still covered. Once dressed, he stood up. 

“You’re welcome”, you handed him the bottle, now depleting. That would help him with the pain. This time, he emptied it without thought.

"There’s more where that one came from, you know.“

He gave you a questioning look. 

"Don’t act like you don’t need it,” you foretold. “Besides, you left me with no vodka in like two sips.”

For a moment, you got no answer. The witcher walked to exit the room, so you gave up the hope of his company; but, instead of heading further down the hall, he stopped. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

Tags: @beautiful-tragic-fallout

[abiik]

hey h *keeses u* ilu and hope u r doing well today, also 👉👈 i was wondering if u could tell me abt zhi yin? im not sure if ive properly asked about her in the past (and if i did and dont remember oops) jfkfjdkf

hiii jo ! ily too & i hope u r able to get some rest today *keeses u* mwah <3

i absolutely Can tell u about zhi yin! u have not properly asked about her (besides the second part of this ask) & other than sporadic posting about her, i dont think ive really made anything properly talking about her. SO HERE WE GO!

zhi yin is the heir to the northernmost cardinal clan on youxiong, the zhi clan. she's the older sister to zhi cheng & the niece to general zhi fahai. yin was vital in cheng's parenting, acting as a third, and practically, the primary parent for most of his life. in a way, despite both of their parents being pretty involved in their lives, the two ended up relying on each other most of the time.

before yin's incident, she was able to shift just like anyone else on youxiong & she had a very strong core that enabled how skilled she was w cultivation, even as a child. but after her incident, her cultivation is very weak and shifting is something she is no longer able to do, & this weighs on her duty to her family, especially as the family heir. this doesnt stop yin though; she’s always been skilled in archery, diplomacy, the liberal arts, & medicine. she's also an avid reader, and finds hope for her situation in her clan's philosophy: one should achieve the impossible.

the 'incident' was an event that occurred when yin was young. i have yet to discern how old she actually was when she experienced it but i know she was young enough to have made somewhat of a prodigy out of herself amongst the zhi clan's junior members. im still working out the kinks of how the event unfolds but i Do know yin saves cheng from a soul-snatching spirit by, essentially, taking his place & getting her soul snatched to an egregious amount before she's saved & yanked away from the spirit by cheng. this means she still partially retains her soul but it's a tiny sliver of what she had before.

yin is seen as 'ill' after her incident - cheng is always looking out for her, partially bc he feels responsible & bc he could Never repay his sister for what she did for him & so allow him to do this one thing for her; her father is cautious around her, his high standards have lowered only slightly bc he understands of course, such a horrible accident, one can only be understanding of his daughters ailments, but she will push thru, he knows it! if you dont want to be heir any longer yin-yin, i understand -; her mother is a little harsher, infinitely more cautious, and very scared of the outcome of what happened to yin. lady zhi worries about demonic cultivation more than anything & when yin DOES go into bouts of dissociation so bad where it seems as if yin as been possessed by something, lady zhi can't help but want to both be very far away from her daughter & to help her.

after yin's accident, her body was sort of left open. previously, she was already very sensitive to spiritual energies and such, and she remains so, but without her own filling her body, when she goes to areas with high spiritual concentrations, yin can have a chance of being overwhelmed with it. yin, as a person, ALSO has the tendency to set her negative emotions aside in order to compromise - her family, & by extension, her clan, is known for being honest & unrestrained, so arguments & clashes are common when people don't agree, but when this borders on feud or fight territory, they need somebody to talk them down, and that somebody has ALWAYS been yin. she's exceptionally talented at navigating tense situations, even when it doesnt come to her own family, but a lot of times it can come at the expense of her own feelings. & THIS wells up in a dark place as resentful energy inside of her, helping fuel demonic cultivation, which makes her both much stronger, physically, and easier to control.

yin does not go under often - she has to go to a place with a high spiritual concentration, either a benevolent spiritual concentration, or a resentful spritual concentration OR someone can set her off by puppeteering the energy she has stored within her own emotions. when she Does go under, she is not usually in control of her body, and she does not usually remembers what happens, only in flashes or vague images.

when zoe meets yin, general zhi has been grooming her in the ways of demonic cultivation in order to use her as his own puppet, in order to control her as he sees fit whenever he needs to, but in a way that would ensure that he would not have to be close by to trigger her into going under so that the crimes he has her commit would never be tied to him.

hmm speaking of zoe: yin is the first person zoe CONSCIOUSLY meets on youxiong, and is also punched by zoe immediately upon zoe waking up, and STILL serves her soup. jekxjdkc.

despite her core being very weak & practically being literally the weakest person on youxiong, if yin were to come to earth, she would still be exceptionally skilled by human standards.

yin is more of an archer than a swordsman, and close-range combat is remedied by knives or by simply using poisons, of which she is Also well-versed in :)

she is well-read & loves to experiment with new things. any sort of thing. >:)

yin will always be seen in varying degree of purples & blacks to represent her clan.

if yin could do it over again, she would save cheng again in a heartbeat. she would do it again in every lifetime, even if it meant being the weakest, even if it meant having to work the hardest she can to be regarded as a proper heir to her clan, even if it meant having a mother who was afraid of her, she would do it all again so that he would be safe.

[trippydooda]

this is unedited, as a warning for any mistakes you come across. as usual, this is a draft somewhat and will be picked apart before i post it to either Wattpad/AO3. 

as for future ratings, i will either refer to it as safe for minors or unsafe for minors. eases some of the ambiguity. 

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: Choi San/Park Seonghwa 

Rating: safe for minors

Word Count: 1,331 

San’s neck itches.

The only thing he hates more than having to stand stoically in such a pretentious suit is standing stoically in a pretentious suit whilst wearing some gaudy masquerade mask. He was a trained assassin, not some pretty pet to add to the ambience of this frankly shrewd ballroom. He knows he should be more concerned with all the possible targets that surely want his pretty face on a pike outside, but he’s more vain than he wants to be so—his appearance is hurt more.

He’s not sure why his fancy suit—with all its sashes and belts, mostly to hide his knives—had to have a hooded mask, makes him stand out more he thinks. The gold snickering mask itself isn’t too bad, he admits, but he’d still rather be not… Here.

“Here” being the kingdom to the south’s castle (he has learned to not bother learning their names, they fall too soon anyway), where the king fancies himself some prophet or some such. San snickers at the thought: some ill-fitted king thinking he’s the “peace bringer” of lands so wrought with chaos they wouldn’t be able to recognise peace if it crawled into its bed. He’s fatter than San thought, that’s one of the things that struck him first. Unmarried as well, which is what this whole ball is about. Finding wives and all.

San sighs. How droll.

Still, he remains not as nonchalant as he wants, when someone catches his eye. He can tell who it is just by the man’s flaunting gait, the way his hair never falls out of place no matter where his limbs are tangled. Maybe it’s just the way San was trained, but he thinks the lace mask isn’t doing shit to cover the man’s identity. Maybe he’s not meant to, San concludes idly as the man comes into earshot.

“Park Seonghwa,” someone whispers into the man’s ear. San rolls his eyes; what a shit whisper. He leans farther in their direction anyway.

“I know,” Seonghwa’s soft voice answers. Damn mages and their poise, San grimaces even though no one can see his face. “I assure you, His Majesty will remain safe. You have my word.” He bows gracefully, his hair still impeccably parted. Little shit probably uses magic to keep it that way.

The “Corvid” is what people call him, Seonghwa. It’s entirely uncreative if anyone were to ask San (which they don’t), considering it only stems from the deep black of his hair, paired with his dark eyes. People call them black too—San is skeptical of that. In order to have truly black eyes, the man would have to have made a bargain with the shadows. No one is foolish enough to do that. He’s thinking of a better name (Shit-For-Brains?) when Seonghwa approaches him.

“What a lovely mask,” he says, smile still evident from the mask that only covers his eyes. Up close San sees why people fawn over him—the tight fitted red suit gives off a tsunami of sex appeal. Typical.

“Lovely suit,” San comments back, voice even. He’s not sure if Seonghwa knows, knows that San is here to kill the crown prince. Bastard prince; good riddance, says most other kingdoms. He wonders if Seonghwa agrees.

He extends a slender hand, nails painted black, towards San. “Care to dance?” He asks, cocking his head.

Not at fucking all, San thinks as he nods fluidly. Dancing with some cryptic court mage is not very high on his list of “wants” right now, especially since he hasn’t seen the prince yet. Probably the reason for the masquerade, he thinks, as Seonghwa leads him to the dance floor.

Dancing, San has learned, is a lot like killing a difficult opponent. The two people must have concrete footing, taut posture. There is an intensity of the gazes shared as one relies on the movement of the other, twirls less menacing when there’s not a knife constantly trying meet your throat. Yet the way Seonghwa looks down at him, as if San isn’t wearing a mask at all, makes him think this is perhaps more menacing than an army of men.

Mages, San has also learned, are lethal. They don’t need a weapon; they personify the looks could kill saying, and do so by just the flick of their wrist; the batting of their eyelashes. San has been contracted to kill them before, and he dreads it. He’s never been able to harness magic himself—always relied on his lithe body and sharp reflexes to save him. So maybe he thinks mages cheat. So maybe if he could, he’d kill Seonghwa. He says “could”, because in all honesty he’s not sure he can manage.

Seonghwa is shrouded in mystery—legends this and curses that. Like some sort of veil covers his aura so that no one can look in. Most of the people he encounters say it adds to his charm, adds to how much they want him. To San, it’s annoying. He hates unknowns. Hates even more when he’s intrigued by them.

And, as much as he is loathe to admit, Seonghwa is intriguing.

“Impeccable form,” Seonghwa says, dipping San. He’s pretty sure this dance is reserved for men and women, judging by the odd glances. San’s traipsed enough lands to not give a shit.

He keeps his voice monotone when he answers, “As is yours.” This close, he can almost see Seonghwa’s eyes. Almost—he still can’t ascertain the colour. Frustrated he even wants to know.

Seonghwa chuckles, and it’s the most intimidating thing he’s done so far. “Are we just going to play idle comments all night?” His eyes narrow as he adds, “I know why you’re here, assassin.”

San’s ankle falters as he twirls. Shit. “Here to stop me, then?” He answers, thankful all Seonghwa has figured out is his profession. Somehow.

He shakes his head, bringing San flush to his chest. There’s hardly a heartbeat, San notices. “Not at all. That pest of a son is nothing but an arrogant fool, bent on embarrassing the monarch he’s fortunate enough to be a part of it.”

“Not a fan, I take it?” San returns a chuckle, noticing the tight grip Seonghwa is keeping him to his chest. Probably not good.

A sinister smile. “I don’t much care for any of these fools. It’s merely a job.”

“How noble,” San chides.

“Speak for yourself,” Seonghwa whispers when he leans into San’s neck. “Killing an unarmed prince? Seems not like your normal shtick.”

San tries to will his heart to calm the fuck down, but it’s hard with Seonghwa’s warmth enveloping him, velvet voice cooing down his neck. “I don’t play fair,” San replies, thankful his voice has yet to crack. His resolve isn’t doing so well, though. He kicks up his shoe, a knife protruding from the sole, and nuzzles it against Seonghwa’s ankle.

Seonghwa hums contently. “Clearly.”

There’s a loud crash, and the music stops. San whips his head away from Seonghwa’s piercing gaze, fixating his own on the chandelier that has crashed just in front of the king. “You’d better go now, the prince should be bedding a whore as we speak,” Seonghwa whispers against San’s shoulder blade.

He turns apprehensively. “Did you—?”

“Cocky assassins aren’t the only ones who don’t play fair,” he smiles.

San doesn’t buy the kindness. He narrows his eyes as he turns away from the commotion, although Seonghwa can’t see them. “Why help?”

Seonghwa answers simply: “Because you intrigue me, assassin.” His expression changes, and San can only really map the even line his mouth makes. “Be warned, though—this contract might not be what you hope it is.”

How ridiculous, San thinks as he scoffs. “I only hope for my blade to greet these people on their way to hell.”

He moves swiftly past Seonghwa, though he still catches his voice when he says, “And what if you end up on the other side as well?”

[i-am-arcana-trash]

Cold Water - 12

Cold Water Masterpost

Part 12 of ?

Warnings: Mild Angst, Suggestive language.

Pairing: Muriel x Laurel

@arcana-dumpsterfire @aarcanefool

Laurel awoke in her room a few short hours after having left the beach. 

Marriage....

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she considered what that meant. No more late night chats, no more being close or talking about their hopes and dreams....

She sat up, despite the water around her, her throat felt dry and she needed air. Slipping out of her room she headed for the cove.

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

Muriel hadn’t slept after returning to his tent, his stomach felt twisted.

He tried to calm his nerves “It was only a week....after a meeting 3 years ago, why am I feeling so......terrible.” 

He peeked out of his tent, the sun wasn’t even hinting over the horizon, but he could no longer sleep. Instead he rolled out of his tent, wetsuit in hand, he wanted to float on the water, if for no other reason than maybe his stomach would stop rolling on land. 

Once he got away from the camp, he quickly pulled the garment on. He didn’t think, instead plunging headfirst into the waves. The icy water felt like knives, but it provided the distraction he needed, his brain focusing on the cold of the water, and not the gutted feeling in his chest. He popped out of the water, floating on top, though his legs kept sinking.

This is harder than it looks

As he recalled how easy Laurel made it look to float over the water.

And there she is again....

From below Laurel saw him as she entered the cove, Moving before her brain could tell her to stop, she swam to him, gently picking his feet up so he could float better.

Muriel tilted his head around looking for her when she popped her head out of the water.

“Knew it was you....”

He reached out to her and she pulled him into her arms. 

He had barely reached her when she pressed her lips to his, hugging him closer. Muriel sighed slightly, the ache in his chest immediately disappearing once she was within arms reach. 

When they pulled away, they were both breathless, Muriel relaxed into her touch as Laurel floated on her back, pulling him to her chest.

“You make this look easy....”

Laurel laughed “I’ve had years of practice....”

They floated lazily past an iceberg when Laurel spoke again 

“I couldn’t sleep....my stomach felt like it was knotted....”

“Me either... but...it’s better here.....here with you....”

With that Muriel kissed her again, gently running his tongue against her bottom lip. He felt her shiver slightly when he did, before she returned the gesture. Muriel felt the electric shock up his spine and he felt himself hungrier for her. Laurel wasn’t faring any better. Being this close to him again sent her heart into overdrive. He was so warm, and fit so perfectly in her arms she felt like he was made for her. When she felt his leg brush her tail....she remembered why he wasn’t.

As she pulled away she smiled sadly at him “We really are setting ourselves up for failure aren’t we...?”

Muriel raised a brow, but one flex of her tail reminded him she was right. “Maybe....”

He kissed her again, light and soft “But....I’m not getting married, I’ll...i’ll tell my parents as much.”

“You don’t have to do that......”

“I’ll hold off then...I...there isn’t a guarantee that I’ll even find a suitable partner..and...Laurel...”

She fixed him with a look “Muriel....I don’t know what this is...but....I know that....i feel most at peace, I feel....I feel happy....when I’m here with you....even if it’s just a week at a time....”

“Me too......”

With that, Laurel hugged him, with as much intensity as she could muster. Muriel returned it with as much. They stayed like that until the sky began to lighten. Laurel swam him into shore, before Muriel pulled away he kissed her again and again. Once he pulled away Laurel stayed on the shore, watching him.

When he pulled the suit off, he caught her staring.

He couldn’t help teasing her “see something you like...”

“I.....” he watched her blush and he couldn’t help laughing at her. She immediately turned her gaze away, suddenly very interested in some seaweed by her hand.

Muriel knelt beside her, the wetsuit pulled to his hips. She looked at him shyly, and he pulled her back into a hug. Her skin was cool against his and Muriel shivered at the contact, but made no effort to move.

He held her a few minutes longer, like he was trying to memorize how she felt. When he looked down at her, he suddenly felt very hot and could feel his blood rushing. Laurel felt the change as well, without warning she turned her head, planting a kiss on his chest right over his heart.

Muriel forgot how to breath as she fixed him with a mischievous look. He was about to retaliate when he heard the telltale signs of movement at the camp, and saw a fire’s smoke.

With that he pulled away, but not before whispering to her that he’d get her back for that.

Laurel kissed him once “Good....I”ll be waiting...”

He watched her slip back into the water before rushing back to camp.

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

The ride back to the village proved more difficult than anticipated. The good weather from the cove did not follow them back and they rode through ice and sleet, with the wind blowing it sideways. 

After 9 days of travel they made it back to the village. Muriel was exhausted, however his parents wanted to talk.

“Muriel......the elders have discussed getting you ready to take over from me as leader of the village, as such you know there are certain requirements...you need to fulfill.....”

Muriel took a deep breath, preparing himself.

“You’ll need to start taking over some of the responsibilities of the village....and you’ll need to pick a partner, but we know that picking a partner is important so that one simply needs to be done before you officially become the leader...”

Muriel felt the tightness in his chest loosen, “I understand....”

With that his father sent him to his room “Get some rest, tomorrow you’ll start learning.”

With that Muriel retired to his room.

After washing up, Muriel crawled into his bed, pulling his furs over his shoulder. He pulled out the satchel Laurel gave him.

Pulling out the shell, he was amazed at the size of it, the size of his palm. He wondered where she got it....guess he'd have to ask her next time.

He set the shell on top of the satchel before tucking in deeper. His thoughts drifted to the coast, and deep under the grey blue water.

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

Laurel meanwhile was hard at work. Everyday that passed since Muriel left she devoted to learning everything she could about the hunter and merfolk relationship. She read the old stories, the historical records, and available source to learn more.

Her father was slightly disturbed by her interest, but she was doing well in her other studies, so he felt no need to tell her no.

At night Laurel would watch the water surface shift, she would dream of having two legs instead of one giant tail. Her heart would ache as she would dream about the village he told her about.

In a few short years, she would be ready to take over for her father.

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

Muriel was a natural leader. His calm discreet demeanor made him easily likable in neighboring villages. And as such he had no shortage of potential partners. 

Muriel spent time with many of them, at his father’s insistence. 

He wondered if this was how Laurel felt, having suitors shoved in her face that she felt no connection to.

Muriel felt no connection, not even a mild spark. One evening after a long meeting with the neighboring villages he went out for a walk in the Steppe.

As he walked, he saw flashes of green. Looking up, the Southern lights were sparkling. He felt his heart constrict as he watched them, he wondered if Laurel was watching them too.

“May I join you....?”

Muriel jumped when he heard his mother’s voice.

He smiled at her “Of course mother...”

They were silent for a few minutes, watching the lights overhead.

“Mother....can I ask you something?”

“Yes Muriel....?”

Muriel kept his eyes lifted watching the sky dance.

“Did....how did you know you wanted to marry father...?”

His mother laughed lightly “I’ve never told you? Ah...when I first met your father he....well he just got under my skin....in the best way.. I spent nights thinking about him, we would meet in secret, our parents didn’t like each other...we fell in love”

Muriel laughed “You and father disobeyed your parents?”

“Indeed we did.....eventually they agreed we belonged together and we got married...”

“Mother.....I think....”

Muriel paused “I think....I’m in trouble....”

“What could you mean by that my son..you’ve done so well......”

“No mother....I’m saying......that I....”

“Muriel....do you have a crush...or is it something more...?”

Muriel blushed and pouted, looking away from his mother.

“Mother......she isn’t....one of us...”

“Ah....it’s your little mermaid friend....”“

“Mother! have you been spying on me?!”

She tsked him “The fates don’t spy.......usually.....”

Muriel sighed “Mother I know it’s crazy.....”

“Strong feelings often make you feel that way.....and you know your father won’t see it as I do...”

Muriel rubbed his eyes sighing “I know....”

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

Laurel floated lazily at the surface, Faye floated next to her, snapping at some ice floating nearby.

The dancing lights were back and watching them she wondered how Muriel was, if he was watching the same light show as her.

Freya popped up, floating next to her

“Your father wants you back soon....”

“I know....but look how beautiful the lights are....”

They floated in silence for a while before Freya spoke “How are you...after he left....?”

“Freya if I speak candidly can I trust you won’t tell father....?”

Freya looked aghast “I will always keep you confidence, but I can’t lie directly to your father...”

“That’s okay ill be vague.....but Freya....have you ever been in love...?”

“Love?”

“Yes love....”

“Perhaps once...but it’s been a very long time...why do you ask...”

“Because......” she paused for a long moment, trying to carefully pick her words.

“Because there are these feelings in my chest....this constriction....and I don’t know what they are....but they disappear when...”

Freya touched her shoulder lightly “I catch your drift.....”

Laurel smiled at Freya, her eyes watering slightly “I think I’m in trouble.....”

“So do I....and as your escort...I’ll do whatever I can to keep you out of trouble....”

With that Freya called over Faye and the three returned to the castle.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: All the good girls go to hell

Chapter: 12/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings: Blood, violence, torture, language, needles

~~~

The next two days were some of the most physically demanding of my life thus far. Loki and Nat worked me to the bone, both spurred on by the fear that this mission was going to go sideways and that I was going to be collateral damage. I didn’t blame them; that same fear did all it could to keep me up at night. Loki had taken to sleeping in my bed with me. It was easier to cut out the moments wasted by him running to my room when I had a nightmare, and he would hold me in his arms and whisper stories of his childhood–always about his mother–until I drifted off with the worries and whims of a child to chase away my more pressing and looming concerns.

I talked to Wanda and she got Vision to reluctantly agree not to spill the beans on Loki and I’s relationship. She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood our desire for secrecy with all the controversy around him, and that was all I asked. I was more concerned about Nat blowing our cover with all of the suggestive comments she made whenever we were within five feet of each other. For an assassin, she wouldn’t know subtle if it hit her over the head. And I’d know; I’d tried. The others shot us some questioning looks whenever he would station himself at my side around the Compound, or get a little more hands on with adjusting my stance in training, but nobody asked either of us about it. Maybe they saw it as a natural progression of his haunting me. Just a step up from being the ghost in the corner to a new, more touchy bodyguard. Or they were all too preoccupied with the upcoming mission to give it a lot of thought. Whatever it was, I was grateful for it.

So by the time the morning of the mission came, I was ready for it–if only to get a break from the punishing training sessions. I’d never experienced anything more surreal in my life than sitting on the Quinjet, surrounded by the Avengers, getting mission plans from Tony Stark. Looking around the room to see the people I’d begun to think of as my family suited up and looking lethal as hell was a bit intimidating. I still felt like an imposter, just some PA who had stumbled onto the jet and was given a suit. The usual crew from around the house, plus Loki, were all present and accounted for. He had made it abundantly clear that he was going wherever I was, which turned some heads, and it was agreed upon by everyone else that I wasn’t going to be left at the Compound. So, they got two bonus tagalongs for the job. At least we were useful tagalongs.

My nerves made themselves known as a lead ball in my stomach, and I kept twisting my fingers together in front of me from all the anxious energy threatening to make me explode if I didn’t do something. I stood next to Loki, trying very hard not to be distracted by him in his green and black leather armor, and focus on getting my head in the game.

“Intel says that there shouldn’t be more than 50 in there. Wanda says that this is just a surveillance base, so we shouldn’t be worried about anybody too big and bad. Now, that being said, somebody,” Tony snapped his fingers until I made eye contact with him, “needs to do everything by the book. Nobody runs off, nobody does some dumb hero shit, nobody gets separated from the group.

“Pebbles, you’re sticking with Nat and Loki. Do not leave them. You’ll be looking for their main server so we can get more info on their other bases. Again, you stick to them like glue. This isn't the first rodeo for those two, so do what they say. Just in case any funny business happens in there we want everybody to have someone watching their six.”

Tony pointed to the screen next to him on the wall, gesturing at a blueprint of the building Hydra had commandeered. “Rock of Ages, Widow and Pebbles will go in through here after we land. Loki, stick to her but do your Invisible Man schtick. We don’t think they know you’re with us, and what they don’t know will hopefully hurt them. Cap, myself, Wanda, Vision, and Thor are going in to take as many out as we can on the front end and distract them so that you all,” he pointed to Loki, myself, and Natasha, “can slip in as undetected as possible. Bruce and Sam, you guys are going to stick to the outside of the building in case they call for back-up. We’ll be in Washington D.C. in one hour.” He nodded to each of us in dismissal before turning off the screen and heading up front to sit in the cockpit.

The serious expressions were wiped away from my friends’ faces as soon after Tony finished his spiel. They began talking and laughing with one another; even Steve looked calm and collected as he joked with Sam.

I didn’t know how they could be so calm about everything. I felt like I was going to be sick. In one hour I was going to be sneaking my way through a building full of people who want to take me and make me some superweapon. And if they attacked us, I wouldn’t have a choice but to fight back. Could I do what I needed to do to protect myself, or Loki? My head swam at the troubling thoughts. I must have looked a little green to Loki, who put his hand on my arm to get my attention. “Are you feeling well?” he asked quietly, searching my face for any signs of weakness or illness.

Nope. Freaking out, actually. But he didn’t need to know that. He needed to focus as much as I did, maybe more, to pick up my newbie slack. Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands over the smooth dark green leather of my suit. It felt more like a costume standing next to such professional badasses, but it would protect me better than what I had worn the last two times I’d been forced to fight Hydra. That was something, at least. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just heading into a building full of men who want to kidnap me and wipe my brain to turn me into the next Winter Soldier. And I can only manipulate natural shit, so unless these people are really into indoor gardening I’m useless. Super calm and in control,” I rambled, inwardly cringing with each word that tumbled from my lips. So believable.

Loki reached down and pulled one of my new, lethal-looking obsidian daggers that he had gifted me after I Hulked out on the last one. It was longer and more lethal-looking than the one from Tony with a stained black wooden handle and slightly curved blade. They both fit easily into the holsters that Tony had put onto the outer thighs of my suit. He spun it expertly on his palm before holding it out to me handle-first with a serious look furrowing his brow. “If nothing else, you have these. And I will not leave your side. I will protect you."

I took the dagger from him and slipped it back onto my thigh, tapping my fingers against the handle as I looked around the jet. Just because I had new pretty knives didn’t mean that I wanted to have to use them. But they did offer some small form of comfort in potential protection, as did Loki pressing his hand onto the small of my back, rubbing small circles over the supple leather unseen by everyone else with my back to the wall of the jet. He had seen so many fights and battles and wars, I just had to trust that he knew what he was doing. He had been fought in actual wars before, so hopefully, this was nothing to him. He was at least acting like it was a walk in the park.

Trusting sucks.

~~~

“Okay everybody, touchdown in 30 seconds. Comm’s in and game faces on,” Tony called.

I took my earpiece out from my pocket and shoved it in my ear, secretly hoping that the pencil eraser sized piece of tech wouldn’t get fall out of my ear. If it did, at least I still had my watch on me as a backup. Everyone’s murmured voices were now amplified in my head, including Tony’s after Nat easily landed the jet in the middle of a park, “We got your back, kid. Head out.”

I glanced at everyone one last time, trying to absorb some of the courage and bravado that they now readily displayed. Steve winked at me before tilting his head for me to leave, pulling his shield off of the floor and slipping it over his arm.

“Let’s go, girl,” Nat called into my ear, and I turned and jogged down the open hatch behind her.

I couldn’t see Loki, but I felt his hand in between my shoulder blades as we both caught up to her outside the building we’d identified as housing Hydra. The three of us pressed against the outer wall, sticking to the shadows as we waited for the others to make their move.

“Honey, I’m home!” Tony shouted, and explosions vibrated through the building against my back. Always so dramatic.

That was our signal. We rounded the side of the building and Loki, now visible, stepped ahead of us and used his magic to silently open the locked cellar door protruding from the ground. Natasha moved in first, pulling out a gun and holding it before her. Loki then disappeared once again, and he nudged me down the stairs in front of him. Being touched by an invisible man was way too weird, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Steve said, his voice sounding small in my ear, the explosions having died down. He was right. It was too quiet on their end.

We continued on our way, forming a silent line as we three snuck from room to room to reach where the brains of the team, AKA Tony and Bruce, decided the computers might be kept. If that intel was correct. And if there weren’t a million guards in our way. And if this wasn’t a trap. If, if, if. I was practically vibrating with nerves as I trailed Nat, who looked cool as a cucumber. All in a day’s work for a Russian super spy.

“I agree, Solo. Nobody’s here,” Tony replied skeptically.

“Should we abort or...?” Natasha asked as we walked into a large empty room with several doors leading off of it. The servers should be in the room farthest from where we entered. Almost there and then I could breathe.

But I agreed with the others. Everything just felt wrong. My skin crawled with unease. If this was a Hydra base then we would’ve run into someone by now. Somebody would’ve responded to us blowing down their door and storming the castle with so much firepower. And if this building wasn’t being used by Hydra, why hadn’t anybody at least called the cops about our blowing things up inside the very populated city? They hadn’t exactly been subtle about it.

A flashing red light caught my eye as it slid by us into the middle of the room.

“Bomb!” Natasha shouted.

A heavy, invisible body knocked into me, cradling my head to cool leather and throwing me to the ground beneath it seconds before an explosion rang out through the room. Smoke and fire and light filled the space instantly, disorienting me. I barely heard Loki shouting my name as he appeared on top of me, looking unharmed but alert as he pulled me to my feet and shoved me into the closest dark doorway after doing a quick scan to check me for any obvious injuries. Bullets peppered the wall across from me, forcing me to move away from the door until I could get my bearings.

“Found ‘em!” Natasha shouted into the comms, and I heard her grunting as she did her best to handle whoever had thrown that grenade. She was more than likely responsible for some of the gunshots that echoed loudly throughout the enclosed space. Loki’s sounds of struggle sounded in my ear, and I couldn’t ignore the urge I had to help them.

I made to get up and leave the dark room--heck if I was going to cower in the corner while they fought--when I felt a hand around my mouth and my waist, effectively trapping my arms to my sides and silencing me. I bit down on the hand covering my mouth, tasting copper and sweat. Out of nowhere, a fist collided with my jaw, making me groan from the explosive force behind it. My fingers twisted by my side, and one of my daggers went into my waiting hand. The man holding me grunted in pain as I stabbed down into his thigh. Just because they had me restrained didn’t mean that I was helpless. I left it there when he fell, twisting around to strain to see in the darkness for any more attackers coming my way.

“We’ve got some big black bad-guy looking cars rolling in!” Sam shouted.

“Kid, get out of there!” Tony screamed desperately.

“I’m a little busy!” I cursed, another set of arms yanking me back and restraining me against a large body. There was a pinch in my neck that spread ice through my veins, and I felt my limbs instantly get heavy. Not good.

I struggled, swinging at them the best I could with my remaining blade, but one man handily took it from my hand and tossed it to the floor. Fingers dug into my ear and ripped out the earpiece, which was instantly lost in the darkness. Another punch landed in my stomach and I doubled over, coughing and spitting up a mouth full of blood that I’d earned from the earlier punch to my jaw. My feet were kicked out from beneath me, and I told myself to get up from where I was sprawled heavily on the floor. Just gotta put one foot beneath me, then the other.But my arms and legs were so heavy. And I was so tired. I tried to push through the haze fogging over my mind, but my fingers only twitched uselessly in response to my commands.

“Loki!” I cried weakly, using my last bit of strength to call out to him as desperation and reality sank in. It was an ambush, these men were taking me, and I needed him to fulfill the promise he refused to make just three days earlier. I lost the battle against my heavy eyelids just as I felt someone grab my hands and drag me across the floor.

~~~

White-hot electricity surged through my body and ripped me out of blissful unconsciousness. A scream tried to force its way out of my mouth, but it couldn’t get around my clenched teeth and something rubber wedged between my jaws. When I tried to thrash my head around to escape the agony coursing through me I was stopped by something metal covering the left side of my face and wrapping around my skull, holding my head absolutely still. My hands clenched the armrests beneath me as I did everything I could to just ride out the pain that battered my body. It was the only choice I had.

After the torment stopped I slumped forward, my head fully supported by the restraint around my neck and the metal around my head. I pried my eyes open to look around at my surroundings, trying to get my bearings. An older man in a white lab coat with stark-white thinning hair and hard eyes pulled the weird contraption off my face. Behind him were five men holding rifles pointed in my direction. We were stuck in a concrete, windowless room with iron bars over the only visible doorway. Underground, maybe? Either way, they didn’t want to be found. Wouldn’t blame them. Torturing a woman isn’t a good look for anybody and tends to raise alarm.

Either I was too exhausted or there wasn’t anything around for me to manipulate, because when I tried to reach out with my powers I could barely feel them humming beneath my skin, let alone find something to use as a weapon against them. It was a foolish thought. I was still strapped to the chair even if I could move my head around now. Needed to get my arms and legs free before I tried to think of any heroic escape plans.

Still, I trained my glare on the middle-aged man who strolled into the room flanked by an extra four guards, looking far too pleased with himself with his cheap suit and ugly thin black cane. As he got closer I could make out a design etched onto the cane of a skull with tentacles coming out of it. Hydra.

“Jennifer, I heard you were awake. We’re so happy that you could join us today,” he sneered, voice sickly sweet as he stopped an arm’s length in front of me.

I tried to lunge out at him, feeling my sweaty, grimy skin peel away from the cold metal chair beneath me as my back bowed against the restraints. Looking down quickly, I could just see my bare knees at the edge of my vision. A quick wiggle check confirmed that I was just in my sports bra and boy short underwear, so at least they had only taken my suit, boots, and watch--ruining any hopes I had of Tony using it to track me. Oh well. I could kick their asses in my undies, no problem.

“We here at Hydra are so excited to get you going on the right path. Tony Stark and his Avengers were not good for you. They held you back. They coddled you,” he droned, circling my chair slowly. “But we want you to be the very best version of yourself. To reach your full potential. We need your help to make the world as it should be. Isn’t that what you want, too?” he asked, stopping in front of me.

Get me out of these restraints and I’ll show you what I want, asshole.

He shook his head and walked away, waving his hand dismissively at the man in the lab coat. “Give her the serum, Wood. They’re looking for her and we need to have her camera ready.”

Serum? I followed the maybe-doctor--Wood, I guess--with my eyes, watching him warily as he took a syringe full of green liquid from a metal table next to me. He looked nervous as he approached me, and I growled deep in my throat when his hand came towards my arm; I couldn’t do much more with the rubber bite guard still in my mouth. The cold metal tip of a gun pressed against my temple, digging into my skin threateningly. I froze against the threat of death, silently seething as I felt the bite of the needle into my upper arm.

My blood boiled inside of me starting from the injection site. I’ve never felt my heart beat so fast in my life, and I would’ve sworn that all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. I knew my eyes were open, but I could only see blackness as I screamed around the bite guard. Whatever they had stuck me with felt like it was dissolving all of my muscles in acid, and it was too much for my body to handle after being hooked up to what felt like an entire power grid earlier. My rigid body went limp as I gave in to the sweet relief of oblivion.

~~~

I was unceremoniously dropped onto a hard concrete floor, the force of it knocking my head into the ground and rousing me. Someone hauled me up until I was kneeling and held in that position by a collar wrapped around my throat attached to the wall, if the chains clinking behind me were any indication of my current restraint situation.

I kept my eyes closed as I knelt on the cold floor, doing my best to get as much information as I could from my surroundings without letting Hydra know that I was paying attention. It seemed like something Nat would do, and she would know how to get out of this situation. Why hadn’t I listened to her more? I could feel warm air blowing against my exposed skin, so I was still in my underwear. My hands were tied up behind my back with very thick handcuffs, and I felt cold metal around my ankles as I sat on them. So all of that needed to be handled before I could do anything else.

Try as I might, I couldn’t access my powers. I felt them, barely pulsing inside of me. It was like there was a sheet covering them; I could feel them stirring and working within me, but when I tried to pull them to the surface something was in the way. Which meant if I did manage to get out of these chains I was going to have to fistfight my way out. Not the best option, considering all the guns I'd seen, but it was all I had to work with.

That wasn’t going to go so well, judging by the aches and pains riddling me. Maybe adrenaline would kick in and keep the worst of it at bay until I could get out of here. But I didn’t even know where here was, or how many people there were between me and the exit, or how to get to that exit. I just had to wait. Wait for more information to present itself to me or for my team to come in and get me out of here. Hopefully either one would happen sooner rather than later.

“Get her up.” It was the voice of the man in the suit from earlier. Great, Malfoy was back.

A fist slammed into my nose and hot blood gushed from it into my mouth and down my chin. I coughed, opening my eyes in shock and pain as I tried to lean forward to keep from choking. The cuff around my neck stopped me, forcing me to lean back and tilt my head to the side instead, ignoring the sting in my jaw as the metal collar dug into the bone.

“Morning, princess. We’re going to make a movie for your friends, and you’re going to sit there and be a good girl. Or else we’ll make life exceptionally hard for you,” I looked up at the suited man to see him gesturing to a large muscled man next to him, “and you don’t want your Avengers to see that.”

I spat out the blood that had pooled into my mouth on the floor at his feet, shoving back every ounce of pain wracking my body as I glared daggers at him. He looked like a cheesy movie villain, with his three-piece suit and tacky cane that was just for show. He only smirked at my attitude, moving to stand beside me and revealing the video camera and men set up behind him. I kept my eyes on it, breathing heavily as I tried to ignore the extreme discomfort working against me. One man went up and turned the camera on. After some fiddling and adjusting of the equipment, the cameraman gave Malfoy next to me the thumbs up to begin.

“Tony Stark. We know that you and your team are out looking for this young woman. As you can see, she is in our care-”

I spat more blood at his feet, earning me a hard smack on my exposed back with his cane that was definitely not just for show. I did my best not to reveal how much it hurt, especially if this video was going to be sent to Tony and the gang, but I couldn’t help the hiss of pain that slipped out between my clenched teeth.

“As I was saying, she is in our care. If you do not stop now, we will have to take it out on her. Each man that you take,” another blow slammed down on my back, “each man that you kill,” another into my ribs, “will cause her more pain.”

“Fuck them up!” I burst out, permitting them to do what they needed to do. I knew that they weren’t going to stop trying to find me. Tony and Loki would not let them just keep me. Especially not after this cinematic masterpiece, showcasing just how much care they had put into keeping me prisoner. I probably looked like death warmed over, kneeling in my dirty underwear, covered in grime, bruises, and blood, my hair tangled and disgusting. But I would rather be brutally tortured with the hope of rescue than face the idea that they may choose not to come for me ‘for my own good’ or some heroic bullshit like saving me a couple of bruises. I could take it. And if I couldn’t, I needed to fake it, pretend that I was okay and still fighting, or they wouldn’t be able to focus enough to get me out of this hell hole.

Brawny man hit me like a freight train, and I swear I heard something crack as my eye exploded in my skull. My cry echoed throughout the barren room, ringing in my ears along with my heartbeat. It was immediately too painful for me to open that eye, so I just stared in a pained daze into the pitch-black lens in front of me with the good one, trying to force down nausea that roiled in my stomach and still look unfazed. Judging from the sorry sight I made in the flipped viewfinder, it wasn’t working so well.

“By the time you get to her, she won’t be yours any longer. She’ll be Hydra’s,” Malfoy-that nickname was growing on me-said gleefully and with promise.

“Oh, shu-”

My snark was cut off with Brawny’s boot in my ribs. It sent me coughing again. I writhed around on my knees as I tried to lean forward to breathe but the collar around my neck stopped me from seeking that relief. I lost count of how many times Malfoy whipped the cane against my back, again and again, the pain radiating through my body until it became all I was. Just waves and explosions of pain storming through me, setting my nerve endings on fire and stealing my breath away. Hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with dirt and drying blood in a sticky mess, but I was powerless to stop them.

I wasn’t going to break. I wasn’t going to break. I wasn’t going to break.

I’m stronger than this.

I clenched my eyes shut against it and, unable to take any more after an untold number of hits on my now bleeding and raw flesh, let out a pained scream that felt like it was tearing my throat in two.

“Good girl,” the man whispered, and the beating mercifully stopped.

I slumped as much as I could with the various chains holding me in a kneeling position, panting and crying silently through the pain. The telltale bite of a needle registered in my upper arm and I passed out seconds later.

~~~

“Tony Stark is your enemy. Wanda Maximoff is your enemy. Vision is your enemy. Steve Rogers is your enemy. Samuel Wilson is your enemy. Natasha Romanoff is your enemy. Thor of Asgard is your enemy. Bruce Banner is your enemy. Tony Stark is your enemy-”

It kept repeating nonstop. I sat there, half-naked in a pitch-black room with what felt like concrete floors and walls and an iron door, listening to it. I could repeat every change of inflection and pitch in the recorded voice after having listened to it for who knows how long. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by; I hadn’t seen the sun or a clock since they kidnapped me, but I had fitfully slept in this dingy room twice without them stabbing me full of knock-out drugs. Did two sleeps equal two days? Hell if I knew.

They were trying to break me. Between this insane mantra, no food or water, the beatings when I would get lippy on my way to the electrocution sessions, and the electrocution sessions themselves, I was already so worn down. My mind and body were spent. It was harder and harder to listen to the voice in my head denying everything I heard when I was just struggling to keep the pain and hunger and sleep-deprivation at bay. My mouth was dry, my head was constantly pounding to the steady drum of my heartbeat, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I sat there curled up around myself. To say I wasn’t in the best shape would be an understatement.

I didn’t even have the dignity of clothing to comfort me. Keeping me in my disgusting underwear and taking away my necklace, Michael’s necklace, must have been another way to try to tear me down. I would lie and say it wasn’t bothering me, but I kept reaching for it, the desire to smooth my thumb over the worn whorls ingrained in me over the years. Instead, when I reached for it, I felt the cold metal of the collar they used to restrain me when I left my cell. It rubbed against my shoulders and jaw with each movement I made, and I could add that layer of raw skin to my list of injuries.

But the one person they didn’t manipulate me against was Loki. His name wasn’t on repeat from the speakers above me. His face wasn’t in the videos I was forced to watch, listing all of the negative deeds the Avengers had done. I guess Tony was right, after all, when he said that they didn’t know that he had been on our side. With me. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wasn’t my enemy. I just needed to hold onto that and the tiny sliver of hope that he was working tirelessly to find me, rip these assholes to pieces, and take what was his. He had promised that he wasn’t going to leave me. He’d broken that promise, too…

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine. Boss wants ya,” a gruff voice broke through my thoughts as blinding light filled my cell from the door yanking open.

I blinked against the sudden brightness, stumbling to my bare feet when I was yanked up by a meaty hand wrapped around my upper arm. My ribs, which were at least dislocated if not broken, protested and forced me into taking shallow breaths as I was dragged through the gray stone walls of my new hell. My eye--one was still much too swollen to open--darted around as I tried to find a way out or a weapon I could use or anything that would help me as I walked the almost familiar route to the room where the scientist, Wood, seemed to always be lurking. Dude needed a new hobby other than waiting around to inject me with mystery concoctions.

This time Malfoy was waiting for me with Wood and his typical entourage of armed guards. I kept my gaze on cane-man as I was slammed into the chair, the restraints instantly sliding around my throat, ankles, and wrists. It wasn’t worth it to fight against them anymore. I needed to save my strength and not reopen the wounds rubbed into my ankles and wrists so that I could beat this man senseless once I figured out how to get out of here.

“We have a new test for you, Jennifer. It won’t take long, and then we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming, so to speak. Wood, if you please,” cane-man smiled menacingly, waving the scientist over to me.

I clenched my teeth as he plunged yet another needle into my arm, pumping a cool liquid into my veins that instantly settled over my mind and body like a fog. Damn it, everything was so heavy.

My body relaxed into the steel chair beneath me despite the twinge of pain the action brought to the open cuts and bruises on my back. I lazily looked up to the man with the cane, head lolling in my restraints, watching him thoughtlessly as he grinned down at me.

“There, that’s better. All nice and relaxed.” He patted my cheek harshly, forcing pain to shoot through my system as it jostled my swollen eye socket. “Now, Jennifer, will you try something for me? I want you to take that chair,” he pointed to a metal folding chair in an iron cage in the corner that I hadn’t noticed when I walked in, “and crush it for me. That’s all. And then you can get some food and water and some sleep. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did sound nice. My stomach gnawed at my backbone painfully at the mere thought of food, which I hadn’t had since I’d gotten here. And my parched mouth couldn’t even salivate at the thought of water. Probably a bad sign. But I couldn’t bend metal. There were some natural bits in there, but not nearly enough for me to manipulate.

“I can’t,” I whispered in defeat, leaning my head back against the headrest with a sigh. I was just so tired…

“You can. Just try,” he urged, patting my hand.

I groaned, lifting my heavy head and looked at the chair. I reached for my abilities beneath my skin, and I was shocked when they responded more strongly than they ever have. It was like a barely controlled inferno raged within me, aching to be let out. It felt like power. My bloodshot eye focused on the box, and I felt its presence in my mind just as I did a stone or a fallen log. I could feel it taking up space in the world even with my eyes closed. My right hand clenched into a fist, and with a loud bang and screech of metal, the cage twisted into itself until there only a gnarled mess of iron in its place.

I shouldn’t have been able to do that. Is this what they had been doing to me with the injections?

“How?” I asked wearily, looking up to the triumphant man next to me.

He smiled--not even an evil smile this time--and nodded to Wood, who busied himself behind me. “I told you that we would unlock your full potential, Jennifer. Now lie back, and we’ll get you the help you need.”

My good eye was obscured as the electro-shock mask slipped back onto my head, but I didn’t have the energy to struggle even as the rubber bite-guard was shoved into my mouth and thousands of volts were surging through my system.

It’d end soon enough.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Start of the Nightmare

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

So, Stitched Together sequel thing. This is sorta dealing with how all the boys fit into this AU, so it’s gonna be longer than Stitched, and possibly not as interesting character development wise, but what can you do

tagging @septic-dr-schneep​ for the original idea

“You are lucky to not be dead.”

Jack couldn’t help but poke at the wound on his neck. He winced. “I’m lucky I know the best doctor in the world,” he said quietly. He didn’t want to tear the stitches.

Schneep huffed, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Well, yes, I am a qualified doctor. But that is no reason for you to play with knives.”

“It was Halloween, bro.” Chase piped up for the first time since his arrival. He was leaning against the doorway of the hospital room, trying his best to look casual when he’d just been hovering nervously by Jack seconds before. “Pumpkin carving is a tradition, you know. How was he supposed to know he’d cut himself?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed. For a moment, he wondered if he should just stay silent. But honesty was always the best policy. If what happened was real, then they had a serious threat to deal with. If it wasn’t, then they could figure out why the hell he was seeing things. “Well, actually, guys...I didn’t exactly do it myself.”

Immediately, Schneep and Chase jumped to attention. “Why? What happened?”  “Should we call the police?”

“No, I...you guys are gonna think I’m crazy,” Jack sighed.

“No way, dude.” Chase shook his head. “We’d never think that.”

“I—you haven’t even heard what it is.” Jack muttered. “Okay, here goes...so, like, for a couple weeks now, I’ve had a feeling like something is watching me. But not at times when that would make sense, I mean all the time. And sometimes I’d see things out of the corner of my eye, or hear whispers that aren’t there.”

“Jack, I do not think I am the right kind of doctor for these problems,” Schneep said, half-joking.

“No, no, let me finish. So, sometimes I’d get nosebleeds out of nowhere, and sometimes I started, like, walking down to the shop or something but then a split second later I’d be back home, like there was a—a glitch in the fabric of reality. And I’d start laughing or hearing laughter for no reason.”

“Okay...so what does that have to do with this business?” Chase asked.

“So, I was doing the video, just like normal, and I’d keep hearing noises. When I went to check them out, nothing. I got another nosebleed, heard more laughing, and just...it just seemed like everything that was happening that month got dialed up to eleven. And then, after I got the pumpkin all finished and was about to do some fine cleaning...I just—I fucking have no idea how to describe it. My arm was moving on its own and it was like—it was like there was someone else in my head, like...squeezing it. And this thing was controlling my arm and it—it did the thing.”

Silence. Jack tried not to squirm as his two friends exchanged glances. They looked worried. “Jack...what I said before was joke, but I really think you should talk to a different doctor,” Schneep suggested haltingly.

“You haven’t even heard the weirdest part.” Jack shook his head. “It—he talked to me. He called me weak...and...” He swallowed nervously. He didn’t really want to talk about the things he said after he cut his throat and used his body like a puppet. So he skipped to the most important part. “Anyway, after he left, or retreated, or whatever, I saw him. And he looked a lot like me, but...wearing different clothes. He looked like a living computer glitch.”

“You sure you weren’t just...hallucinating?” Chase asked. “I mean, you’d lost a lot of blood by the time I came to check on you.”

“I know, I know, it’s a real possibility. But the weirdest thing was his neck. It was—was also cut open, but it was stitched close. With green string. But it wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping the wound closed, and the stitches were pulling apart...and I got the strangest feeling I knew him.”

Schneep walked over to the counter nearby and grabbed a pen and pad of paper. He wrote down something real quick, then came back and handed it to Jack. “I think you should check out Dr. Laurens. She is very good. Not to say you have to, but I think it would help.”

“Wait, doc, hang on a second.” Chase frowned thoughtfully. “I think...maybe...”

Schneep glared at him. “Chase, do not encourage him,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep Jack from hearing. “I know you are wanting to help but it will not to do this.”

“All I’m saying is—I mean—I’m wondering—” Chase stopped, gathering his thoughts. “So, I know you remember what happened a little under a year ago. I do too.”

The doctor’s expression immediately darkened. Nobody needed a reminder of what happened to Marvin and Jackie. It was bad enough that the double murder—or possibly murder-suicide, nobody could agree—got an unholy amount of media attention, given that no one could figure out what actually happened. One had a slit throat, the other held the knife, both were dead but only one was injured, and they were inside a circle drawn on the floor like some sort of ritual. How and why did they even die? And then the police found Jackie’s super suit hidden in the closet and all sorts of shady websites on Marvin’s computer. That only made things more complicated.

“Well, it can’t be a coincidence that the same kind of cut appeared on Jack nearly a year later,” Chase pointed out. “And they were probably doing some kind of magic, right? Maybe black magic? Doesn’t what Jack said sound like he got attacked by a black magic demon or something?”

Jack smiled. He hadn’t really thought of the possibility that what happened to Marvin and Jackie could be connected to the thing that attacked him, but it was nice to know that Chase thought there was an explanation besides him being crazy. Schneep, on the other hand, looked doubtful. “I do not mean to speak ill of the dead, but Marvin believed in things that could not exist. If he dragged Jackie into his shit, then that was between them. But it had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“You don’t know that,” Chase snapped. “Maybe there was some sort of sacrifice or something, and things went wrong.”

“For god’s sake, do you really think Jackie would be part of black magic?” Schneep threw his hands up in the air. “Have you ever heard anyone speak out against evil more than him?”

“I mean...the dark side can be tempting, bro,” Chase mumbled.

“I am not being part of this. I am leaving, I have other patients to check on. Jack, please at least try to visit Dr. Laurens. She can help more that mindless speculation.” Schneep stuck around long enough to see Jack nod in agreement, then quickly left.

“Jack...you think that...” Chase hesitated, then said the next few words in a rush. “D’you think that if we find out more about what attacked you we could find out what happened to them?”

Jack hesitated. There was a bit of desperation shining in Chase’s eyes. No, actually, there was a lot. Jack couldn’t blame him. A lot of terrible shit had hit Chase at that moment in time, shit that led to...well, it made sense that he wanted his friends back.  Jack did too. But also, he just really wanted to know what the deal with this thing was. Why was he targeting them? “I mean, maybe,” Jack shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. And if there’s really a demon out there, we need to protect ourselves. But how do we do that?”

The next day, Chase and Jack found themselves standing outside a little shop on the edge of town. The window showed a display made of books, amulets, and hanging talismans. The sign identified the shop as “Jackson Magick Emporium.”

“So, this place is, like, legit, right?” Chase asked.

Jack pulled on the bandages around his neck. “I mean, as much as one of these places can be. The website seemed to know what they were talking about, and there were good reviews from people who weren’t nutters. So...let’s go in.”

A bell ding-a-linged to announce their arrival into the shop. Chase blinked.  “Good god, did we just step back in time or something?” The front room of the shop looked a lot like a living room from the early twentieth century, but with the addition of a counter with a cash register and price tags on the various knickknacks scattered on the tables. It was a pleasant place, pastel blue in color and well-lit with yellow lamps. But nobody was there.

“They head the bell, right?” Jack wondered, glancing over at the little silver instrument hanging by the door.

“Don’t see how they could’nt’ve.” Chase wandered over to one of the tables and picked up the leather-bound book on its surface. He turned it over in his hands. It did look like something Marvin would’ve had. This must be the right sort of place.

“I’d advise you to put that down.”

Chase jumped, looking around for the source of the voice. A well-dressed man in a blue vest and black hat was coming out of a door behind the counter. He...weirdly enough, he looked pretty similar to Jack and Chase, just with a mustache. Did Jack have some sort of doppelganger magnet attached to him?

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled, putting the book back.

“Quite alright. You had no idea. But I must warn you that it’s very old and fragile.” The man walked around the counter and approached the two. He gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand. “My name is Jameson Jackson, but you may call me JJ if you like. Welcome to my shop. How may I help you?”

Jack shook his hand. “Hello. I’m Jack and this is my friend Chase. We, uh...” He looked over to Chase for support, but he just shrugged. “So I went onto your website and saw that you did a thing where you could get rid of, like...evil spirits and shit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use that type of language,” JJ frowned. “But yes, that is correct.”

“Okay, so, you see...I mean it’s been happening for a while, but last night it really...really, um...” Jack fidgeted with the bandages again. “So, I’m not wearing these for fun. You see what I’m talking about?”

JJ’s brows furrowed. “Yes, I think I’m getting the gist of it. Why don’t we go into the other room? I can make us some tea and you can tell me everything, at your own pace of course.”

The other room looked pretty much the same, but red instead of blue and no items for sale. The main piece of furniture was a table and chairs in the center, but there were a few drawers and chests along the edge for holding things, along with a small stove. Jack and Chase sat down and spilled out the whole story, starting with Marvin and Jackie’s mysterious incident last year, and ending with Jack’s account of this thing taking control of his body and seeing it afterward. By the time their tale had ended, the tea was long finished. JJ set a cup in front of each of them, then joined them at the table. He leaned forward and rested his head on his hands.

“So, do you have any idea what your friends were actually messing about with?” he asked in a quiet voice, as if afraid someone would overhear.

Jack shook his head. “No, sorry.”

“They were in a circle?”

“Yeah, with candles around the edges. Is that...is that helpful?”

“Not very, unfortunately. Most spells—or at least, most heavy-duty spells—take place in a protective circle. It’s meant to protect the casters from outside dangers and keep any misfires contained inside. Do you remember anything else? Did they discover any spellbooks or charms?”

“I don’t remem—”

Chase interrupted. “Wait, I think...I think there was some weird things. A bunch of burned paper, and...and there were two weird necklaces, but...I dunno about those ones.”

“Explain.”

“Well, Schneep—he’s a friend of ours, a doctor—showed me the police report of the crime scene. They were both wearing them, and they were when he saw the bodies, but later, when he asked the cops about where those necklaces went, they swore there weren’t any.”

“Hmm...” JJ took a sip of the tea, thoughtful. “Disappearing amulets...that is unusual. Depending on their purpose, we could guess at the spell they were trying. Hang on.” He stood up, walked over to a chest and rummaged it, then came back with a book with a red cover. He opened it, revealing that the book had been patched together with pages tied into the lining, like an old-fashioned kind of binder. They were covered with ink drawings of various amulets, with explanations of what each did. “Did your friend happen to describe them?”

“Uhhh...” Chase cast a line back into the waters of memory. “This is a recall of a recall of a glance, so don’t take this too seriously. But they were white...a bit teardrop-shaped.”

“Wait wait wait I saw those!” Jack nearly knocked over his teacup in excitement.  “He was wearing them! They had these weird designs on them, and they were glowing green.”

JJ slid the book toward him. “Do you think you could identify them?”

“Maybe...I didn’t really see them that good.” Jack started flipping through the pages, then suddenly stopped. He looked around. “It’s happening again...” he muttered. “I feel like someone’s watching us...”

Chase, confused, said “What?” But JJ didn’t hesitate, shooting to his feet and dashing to the drawers, pulling them open and glancing at the contents before slamming them shut again.

“What are you looking for?” Jack asked, nervous.

“Either protection or the source of that feeling,” Jameson explained. “If you can, help me look.”

“We don’t know—oh, alright.” Jack didn’t want a repeat of Halloween night. He stood up, pulled Chase upward too, and ran toward the drawers. He figured he’d know if something was important. The drawers were filled with books and loose papers with strange writing, crude dolls with paint on them, amulets and other magickal jewelry, and so many other talismans that Jack couldn’t identify. Nothing stood out.

Until Jack heard a sudden shriek.

His head whipped around, and he saw Chase standing in front of an open drawer with a look of absolute shock and horror on his face. He held something in his hand, a pair of teardrop-shaped amulets dangling from strings. They glowed green, but the glow couldn’t mask the cracks that marred their surfaces.

“Chase! Drop it!” Jameson yelled.

Startled, Chase did exactly that. The amulets clattered to the surface. There was a sound, a sound in the back of their minds that seemed to be coming from the broken talismans. It was a high whine, punctuated with electronic-sounding crackling. Or was it laughing?

“How’d they get there?” Chase asked, breathless.

“They came with him,” Jack muttered.

It was definitely laughter. Then Jack heard, directly in his ear, “I'm so p̶ro̡u̡d, J̷ąck͝ie̴bo̢y.”

With a yelp, Jack whirled around, but nobody was there. Chase and Jameson, who’d apparently also heard something similar, were looking around wildly as well. The room seemed darker. The whine was growing louder.

“Where are you?” Jameson asked. “Show yourself!”

A giggle. “You’d lik̵e̵ that, wou̡l͞dn̕'͢t͝ yo͢u҉? A neat little ta͡r̴g̨et to throw your s͠p̛e͞l̡ls̶ at? Oh wait, Ì f͝ór͠g̕o̶t, you don’t a̦̝̤̱̥c̗̭͝t̮̤̭̝u͈̭͓̰͈a̦ḻl̩̦͈y̠͟ have any m̀͏ag̢ic̢..” The voice bounced around the room, seeming to come from the corner one moment and the center the next.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Jameson said.

“Oh, I̢̕ ̨͏k͏ǹ̸̕o͠w̸͠.” He sounded amused now.

“What are you?” Jack cried.

“Can’t you t̶e͟ll? I’m y̕͢o̢͞͠u̷̶ , of course, J̮̪̘̯͝à̵̟̣̻́ͅc̨̘̬͓͖̭̞̳̲̟k̛̼̣̝̞̹̹͍̬i̖̞̭͝e͏͓͢b̷̨̫̗̗̕o̤͔̝͖y̖͕̣.”

“N-no...” Jack whispered. “No, you’re not. If anything, you’re the anti-me.”

“ Ą̴̀n͢͠t͞í̶..oh, I l͟i̸̛ḱè̵ that. V͠e̡r̵y̛ m҉uch͝.”

“Great, you just named it,” Chase grumbled. Jack noticed his hands were shaking, and his eyes were darting everywhere.

He—Anti—laughed again, and the lights flickered at the same time. Jack felt the feeling of being watched lighten up, and the white noise seemed to shift...to Chase. “ Y̕o͞u’re putting on sųćh͢ a b̷͝r̴͞av̧̀e fa͏͝c̶͢e, but I can taste the f̛e̵̷a҉̨ŕ̶͝ i͝n͡ y̢o̕uŕ m͏̕͟i͟͠ǹ͞d̷̸̶. It’s dȩ̴l̛ic̶i͠o͡u̡s̸͢.”

The flickering intensified. Jack’s eyes widened as Chase’s shadow shifted, contorted, then stepped away from the wall. “Chase, watch out!” Jack yelled. He started to run toward him, and Chase himself tried to turn around, but it was too late. Anti was real, and he was holding a knife to Chase’s throat.

Jack froze in place.

“ G̨ood i̢ḑeà, J̷̶a̧ck͏̷i̛e̕.” Anti bared his teeth in what would’ve been a smile on anyone else, but on him it could only be seen as a threat. He did indeed look a lot like Jack, but his form was spazzing out and glitching at every moment, coming apart in pixels. The upper half of his face was hidden in shadows that twisted and writhed, strands of green light trying to form a symbol on the center of his forehead. The wound on his neck wasn’t just a cut, but a wide gash weeping blood. Green stitches were trying to keep it closed.

“What do you want?” Jack whispered.

“What do I w̶̡a͡n̵̴t̸̸?” Anti repeated the question, tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey. “First, I want to see if y͡ou̴r f̢r҉ieńd he͠r̶e̡ b̵̶lè̷e̢d̴̡s͟͠ like you, if your faces are t͢hè ͝s̶a̡m̡e. Then...well, you͠'̀l̷l ͡soon fin͢d̀ ͢o̧u̢t̵. I wouldn’t want to s̴po͠į͟l e̦̼v̖̫̱̰͇e͏̰r̤̜͝y̪̼͖̙̙̕t̥h̪͎̙̱i̖n̦̻̭̹͈̼̮͝g͢ for you.”

Chase’s eyes were wide, and he held perfectly still. The knife was glitching ever so slightly. As Jack watched, it nicked Chase’s neck and a single drop of blood trickled down his throat. Jack sucked in an panicked breath. What could he do? Was there anything he could do?

Suddenly, Anti’s smile dropped. His head snapped—quite literally, the sound accompanied by a shattering of pixels—toward Jameson. Jack realized that he’d been awfully quiet during the whole confrontation. And it was because he was preparing. Several drawers were hanging open. There was a tall blue candle burning on the table, surrounded by strange symbols written in red chalk. Jameson held a golden amulet out in front of him, a golden square with a purple gem in the center. It was emitting a faint white light. He grinned triumphantly.  “What were you saying about magic?”

Anti growled. “ F̵̮͎̠̭̮̯͇̀͟i̛͓̦̠͖͈̥̹̞̕n͎̰̠̙̻͟e͖̱̼̬. I’ll l̶͟e͠t ̛͝yǫ͝u win t͞͠͡hiş ̀t̀i̷͞m̶̧̢e. But this i̛sn'͏̶t ̧̕o̢v̵̡e͞r̛.” Reality flickered, and shattered. When everything was set back to normal, the room was light again, Chase was gasping for air, and Anti and the amulets were gone. “S͏҉e̵̡e̶ ̸́ýo̸͡u͟ ̧̀s͏o̶̡o̸͢n͢͞.” One last whisper around their minds, and they felt his presence disappear.

Silence.

After a long while, Jack turned to JJ and said, “You have to teach us how to do that.”

JJ smiled shakily. “A strong and more specific variant of the banishing. I wasn’t sure it would work. But it was better than the alternative.”

“You can say that again.” Chase almost reached up to prod the small cut on his neck, but stopped himself. “We need to tell Schneep about this. Let’s see him deny it in the face of three eyewitnesses.”

“He’ll find a way to.” Jack sighed. “But we gotta convince him. He could be in trouble too.”

And still, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew who Anti was, and not just because he shared his face. There was something eerily familiar...like a favorite song that had been twisted and distorted into a different tune entirely.